#maybe the answer is more than you bargained for however

[mirandasidefics]

Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader  

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human. 

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days). 

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so. 

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted. 

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought. 

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate. 

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor. 

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her. 

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance. 

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within. 

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do. 

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human. 

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.” 

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break. 

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.  

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters. 

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again. 

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision. 

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall. 

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”. 

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir.  He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut. 

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here? 

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain. 

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow. 

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male. 

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders. 

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.  

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened. 

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet. 

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room. 

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap. 

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together. 

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why. 

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand. 

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.” 

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own. 

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words. 

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.  

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious. 

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries. 

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers. 

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…” 

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.”  She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light. 

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time. 

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday. 

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses. 

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again. 

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her. 

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

[powdermelonkeg]

You're big on Zelda, so I'm curious. How would you rewrite TOTK, if given the writer's room?

Fun question! *cracks knuckles* Let's answer it.

I've answered about the disconnect between BotW and TotK before, so I'm going to take some of those ideas and run with them here.

I'm taking the intended route, for the sake of keeping coherence rather than just making up an entirely new Hyrule from scratch. Link and Zelda are the same as they are in BotW.

To start off, I like the Zonai.

I like that they're an entirely new race of people in Hyrule. I love how weird-looking they are. I love that they're not human race #87.

I also love their bastard not-Zonai lovechild thing. If we saw more examples of Zonai, I would love for this funky lil dude to be part of them, kind of like how the Zora have a ton of variation between them.

So why don't we do that? Why don't we give them a kingdom?

And why don't we put some meat on the bones of what was already built?

There are Zonai-esque ruins all over the Depths, mostly in mines for Zonaite.

Their color palette matches. Rauru's braids and Sonia's earrings match brightblooms.

And the three dragons, who have Zonai features (segmented, color-edged hair, long ears, blunt muzzles, scale beard mouths), could have been a catalyst.

A catalyst for what, though?

It starts with the Depths themselves, and the dragons breaking free.

See, in TotK, the three elemental dragons all dive in and out of the Depths chasms. There's no explanation as to why, and the only explanation we have for the chasms forming is that it was like...geysers of Gloom.

However, the dragons in BotW are confirmed to have carved these canyons:

So let's go back in time a little.

The Zonai live in the Depths. They're underground, away from all the chaos that Hyrule has ever had to endure. They worship the bargainer statues as gods, they collect the souls of those above that drip down into the world below.

They have a rich mining industry, and coliseums for their greatest warriors to test their mettle against captured monsters.

They have their Secret Stones, and the one who's allowed to hang onto those is their leader.

That'd be young Prince Rauru.

The elemental dragons, Dinraal, Naydra, and Farosh, are testaments to why no one can be allowed to have the Secret Stones. They were consumed by their power, literally.

One day, they break free, as if summoned by an unknown force. They tunnel through the ground and into the sky, connecting the world below to the one above.

The Hylians cautiously venture below, or the Zonai above. Prince Rauru, keeper of the Secret Stones, and Sonia, High Priestess of Hylia, meet.

They fall in love.

They marry.

Their marriage marks a unity between the Surface and the Depths.

(Maybe throw in a lil Skyward Sword continuity, mention that while Hylia sent the humans to the sky, the Zonai fled underground to avoid Demise, to keep the Secret Stones out of his grasp. You don't even have to name drop him, just say they went down to avoid destruction.)

Suddenly, Hyrule (the center part of the map, based around the Great Plateau, not the whole sub-kingdom conglomerate it exists as in BotW) undergoes a technological boom. Ganondorf, neighboring leader of the Gerudo, is interested. He talks trade with now-king Rauru, but there's the sub-plot of trying to get his secrets, which he steadily grows obsessed with.

Meanwhile, the Gerudo make their own expedition into the Depths.

There. The stage is set.

Now Zelda falls into the past.

She's found by Rauru and Sonia. Adopted as their daughter, more or less.

Also, the two of them have a small child. Nintendo, you CAN'T set them up as "they're her ancestors" and then kill them childless, descendants don't work like that. Zelda's immediately endeared to the kid, who reminds her of Link. Lil half-Zonai girl with a wooden sword who swings it at anything that moves. There are memories, it's cute.

In the past, Zelda witnesses, real time, Ganondorf going mad with power. They get along well at first, he's cordial, polite, a model diplomat. But she finds his troops in places they shouldn't be, confronts him about it and gets brushed off.

She tells Rauru, he's unwilling to throw suspicion onto Ganondorf. They're semi-friends and diplomacy is important! He's got to run this kingdom right. He can't fail, this is the biggest thing he's ever done!

(Sprinkle in a parallel to BotW Zel's fear of failure)

Some of the memories fill in gaps about Rauru's power, also. He's got what Link can do, minus Recall. Ultrahand and Fuse mainly, but Rauru's been experimenting with Ascend, excited because it'll make passage between the Depths and the Surface so much easier, and we see where Zel gets her scientific excitement from. Regardless of how different they look, they ARE family.

Ganondorf and Rauru get into a fight one day. A BAD fight. Maybe because Zelda tipped Rauru off, and despite telling her no, Rauru looked into it anyways. Regardless, they march out in opposite directions, and Zelda overheard it in the hallway. As Ganondorf leaves, he gives her the most SCATHING glare.

He then declares war on Hyrule.

Rauru makes a bid for allies, trying to get enough manpower to fight Ganondorf's impressive military. It's a struggle at first, but Zelda steps in, being the leader she's skilled at being and telling the others how crucial it is that they help. Ganondorf, meanwhile, turns to forbidden arts in his rage against Rauru, gets infected by Gloom/Malice, becomes scarily powerful. First Blood Moon. The Gerudo are kind of unnerved by him.

We see Zelda and Sonia helping with the war. Sonia's got light powers, Zelda's are stronger, together they can destroy entire ARMIES of monsters, saving their warriors on the battlefield. A few instances of Little Princess trying to be involved like the grown-ups are, getting huffy when she's told no.

In the aftermath of each fight, Rauru runs around, sealing away the monsters' latent energy with green spirals. That's where the Shrines come from, though in the past, they're Luminous Stones—it's all faded by present day, the light bled out of them.

Sonia is on the battlefield against Ganondorf one fateful night, Little Princess wanders onto the field, both the girls panic about it, and Sonia tries to run away with her while Zelda affords them cover. THAT'S when Ganondorf strikes her—he's fast like a ninja, rushes past Zelda, strikes Sonia.

She falls. Little Princess tumbles.

Zelda races to Little Princess's side, picks her up to run away with her as Ganondorf gets Sonia's stone, and he transforms into the Demon King. He raises his army. Little Princess screams, and we see an uncontrolled blast of Hylia's power, like an erratic attempt at what Zelda did at the end of BotW.

It fritzes, Zelda hugs her tight and ducks down to shield her, and the power cascades across the battlefield, affecting monsters AND people alike. The war is in shambles. Ganondorf stares at the child and her guardian, and retreats in a hurry.

Cue Rauru running to their side.

He grieves his wife. Little Princess is kept safe by Zelda. The Gerudo shun Ganondorf and join Rauru's side, and everyone involved in the war dedicates everything to one final assault against Ganondorf, one trap to finally END him, to force him into the Depths and fight him on the Zonai's own turf. The Secret Stones are distributed. Rauru knows what he has to do, and at the climax of the final battle, he uses his Secret Stone to amplify his sealing magic, knowing it'll kill him in the process and locking Ganondorf away in the Depths.

Except, it's not that simple.

Gloom bursts out of the newly trapped Ganondorf's chest, flooding the Depths, eliminating everyone in its path. That includes the Sages, the assaulting army, and the VAST majority of the Zonai. Its sole purpose is to gather enough strength over time for Ganondorf to break his shackles, because the Gloom wants OUT.

(Subtly implied that the Gloom is the first iteration of Demise's curse of hatred, maybe.)

And Zelda is alone. Trapped in the past, stuck with Little Princess, her Secret Stone, and the last of Mineru's notes.

Gloom continues to fume out of the Depths, so they're sealed off. The Blood Moon keeps spawning new monsters, so Little Princess and the remainders of the construct caretakers are sent up to the sky, for her protection. Zelda's the one that orchestrates it. Her people once hailed from the sky, and it's always been known as a place of safety for them.

Is this self-referential to the history she's building, or a Skyward Sword reference? Who knows.

They go skyward.

Then the Master Sword appears, and Zelda knows what she has to do. It's compounded, of course, by crushing guilt over the fact that Sonia's death happened on her watch. She tells Little Princess to look out for the world ahead, tells her to be strong, and brave, and everything she wishes her dad had told her. Then ends it with a final message.

"I'm leaving you something very important. Take good care of it."

Then she goes off alone to become a dragon.

Present day.

Link's not guided by Rauru, he's guided by a strange, beautiful woman who looks kind of like Zelda (albeit with Zonai hair, eyes, and long claws), who has a deep regret for the world below and who knows the lonely world above like the back of her hand. She teaches him the basics of his powers as he visits the shrines.

The Great Sky Island is otherwise normal.

You go to Hyrule. The Light Dragon's the one that breaks the cloud barrier, and as she does so, she sheds a single tear. By the time you get to the tear's location, it's spread a mural of the memory it contains around it.

Whenever you Recall a tear, the Light Dragon sheds a new one somewhere else, and it's up to you to follow.

You're chasing Zelda, twice over.

Besides that, Hyrule's Surface is...largely unchanged. I'm still upset that the pirates assaulting Lurelin weren't ACTUAL pirates, so guess what, they are now. Splinter faction of Yiga. Also, River Zora take over Lake Hylia, there's a spat between them and the Sea Zora, and Yona is the princess of the Rivers.

Then you've got the Depths.

That's where you find the ruins of the Zonai civilization, and you start piecing together the world it contains on your own. You aren't told, you're SHOWN.

Rauru's ghost finds and guides you here. He has a moment of "hey, isn't that MY arm?", upgrades your abilities or shows you how to use them more efficiently (ups your build limit, shows you how to un-Fuse, teaches you DEscend, gives you Autobuild, things like that), then DIES-dies. You escort his poe soul to a Bargainer statue.

The biggest change to the Depths, though, is that under the Gerudo Desert, you find PEOPLE.

So remember how the Gerudo launched their own expedition into the Depths in the past? How the Gloom killed almost everyone and the world below was sealed off?

There were a sparse few survivors of the Zonai, and some unfortunate Gerudo researchers that also got trapped. The people down there now are descendants of both. They're not Zonai anymore, though.

They're Lomei. They evolved like how the Rito evolved from the Zora in Wind Waker. Their tribe name comes from the Zonai word for "loneliness."

Regardless, they're initially inhospitable to Surfacers, because Surfacers are how they ended up how they did. If you sneak into their city, you're captured, like a few unfortunate Zonai Survey Team members that have wandered in, only YOU can escape via Ascend. OoT Gerudo parallel.

You can earn the Lomei's trust by doing things for them (maybe beating all three labyrinths as a rite of passage?), and then they let you into their cities. They've got their own brand of tech based off of old Zonai designs. One of the Lomei scientists is working on a mechsuit—that'll be the sage that Mineru passes her stone down to. And it fits doubly, both because the Lomei ARE the descendants of the Zonai and because the Lomei technician and Mineru are both scientists.

The Lomei people give you more pieces to the complicated Zonai-Hylian puzzle, and they're the ones that first tell you the legend of the dragons-from-Secret-Stones. So you can either learn it from them OR get it revealed in Zel's later memories.

Besides that, the present plot is pretty much as normal. Still the same bosses. Still the same sages-help-with-everything, though each sage you rescue gives you another piece of what really happened at the final fight (rather than the same cutscene over and over), telling you about how Rauru sacrificed himself and the effect it had on the rest of the Depths.

I will change where the Ganondorf's Army fight takes place, though. It's ACTUALLY very hidden, like the game was trying to imply it to be when you chase around Kohga. You do still have to do that, but he accidentally directs you to a place that's hidden in the tiniest crevice near Hyrule Castle, one that's very easy to miss and sitting in a veritable sea of Gloom. Once you finish the Kohga quest, a poe hovers outside of the crevice, which leads into an even deeper chasm that leads to the Underdepths.

The poe's your help to get through the maze there, and wherever it goes, Sundelions bloom at the corners. If you go early, before getting everything done, you have to navigate that place yourself, and it's a nightmare.

But you do it. You get to where everything started, and you beat the army, then Ganondorf, then he shoves his fist down his throat and goes dragon.

As he breaks through the ground and curls around Hyrule Castle, he SHATTERS it. The building crumbles to smithereens, crashing into the Depths below.

You beat Demon Dragon, Zelda catches you on her nose, it's over. You're in the spirit realm over sleeping Zelda.

The poe appears over your shoulder, drifts away from you, then materializes into Sonia. She says nothing, just activates Recall, turns Zelda back to normal, then cradles her in her arms. She gives her a kiss on the forehead, looks at you, then says the same line Zelda said to Little Princess ages ago, with the single change of one word.

"I'm leaving you something very important. Take good care of her."

She fades, as does the Spirit World.

You're falling.

Zelda's falling.

You catch her.

She wakes up, sees you, then hugs you and sobs into your shoulder.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom.

Roll credits.

Bonus for the memory completionists, the True Ending has Zelda meeting the grown Little Princess up at the Great Sky Island, reconciling with her, both of them saying how proud they are of each other. Then Little Princess turns into a poe, and Zelda promises to take her to the Depths so she can be with her parents again. As they walk away, Sonia's poe tails after them.

And THAT is a way longer post than I expected to write. Whew.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

[straykids-97]

Sinner

“Deliver me from evil, for I have sinned.”

Warnings: Dom!Chris, choking, intellectual humiliation, (stupid, dummy, etc), EXTREME power dynamic, sthenolangia, submissive!y/n. Chris is a meanie :( in this. Lmk if I forgot anything!!

Synopsis: Chris can only take so much before he snaps. A typical tirade ends up being far more than what you bargained for…

Word count: 2k

🖤❤️🔪❤️🖤

We’ve all heard the saying, ‘deliver me from evil for I have indeed sinned.’ Even if you aren’t religious, it’s used in media like movies and TV shows left and right. We’ve all been exposed to the mantra, over and over again. However, not many of us take into account what this can truly mean.

If you ask a random passerby, it means could mean you’ve done wrong, and you seek forgiveness from the Lord. And you seek forgiveness from Him in order to make it to those pearly gates in the afterlife.If you ask the right person, you could get the answer you so seek… Just depends on who you ask, and what situation you may be in when you say such a thing. And, well depending on the day, Chris can offer you so much more than just a simple response. His reply may even equate whatever God could offer…

You stand in the kitchen, stirring a bowl of cake batter as you rant and rave about your day and how much you wished he would’ve gone with you to the local farmers market so you didn’t have to go alone. Nothing out of the ordinary, a typical, little gripe. In reality, you knew he had to work. But it still made you feel better airing out your complaints so they didn’t pile up and really cause problems. You know better than to complain about such trivial matters, because in reality, they don’t really matter. You don’t mind going to the market alone, less stares that way. You feel normal again, not like you’re dating some insanely rich, hot K-pop superstar. 

Even though you knew it didn’t really matter, you still prattled on. Talking about how convenient it would’ve been and how much more fresh fruit and veggies you could have gotten if he were there to help carry your basket. You weren’t as strong as him, you argued, causing him to scoff. You roll your eyes at the lack of reply, wishing he’d say something. Anything. But he didn’t seem like he was even listening. 

But Chris was listening, oh was he listening. Chris was rubbing the strong muscles of his shoulders, digging his fingertips into his skin, harder and harder, the more you complained. Every time you said, “If you were only there,” or, “if you had been there,” he dug his nails into is skin. By now, he was leaving trails of red along where hes’ been obsessively rubbing for the last 30 minutes. He’s heard a lot of complaining lately and he’s about to hit his limit.

“…and this weird guy kept asking me if I needed help bringing my stuff to the car.” You babbled on and as you open your mouth to say something more, Chris’s hand slams down on the counter. You jump out of your skin, holding a hand over your heart as it jumps to a faster pace. You look at him, shocked by his reaction. Had you hit a nerve? Perhaps, but he’s never reacted that way before, it’s not uncommon for people to ask if you need a hand, that’s just the kindness of locals. But today, maybe mentioning that guy wasn’t such a idea.

He doesn’t look at you as you watch him rise from his stool and you watch with bated breath as slowly walks toward you. You don’t realize it, but you’re holding air in your lungs until he’s standing right in front of you. 

Chris grabs you by the chin, digging his nails into your skin so hard that you think he may break skin. You hiss, wincing as he yanks you closer to him, watching as he bares his teeth at you. Snapping them shut, he sucks air through his pearly whites, a warning.

He’s not playing- he’s serious.

The laughing and humor gone now, all that lingers in the air is a stuffy, hot feeling. Almost as if he was suffocating you by merely being close to you. You swallow hard, if he didn’t have his large hand around your jaw, it would be parted in shock.

“Shut.” His voice was low, sending a chill shooting down your spine, “up.” The last word was like venom on his tongue, the way he spat it in your face made it seem like he wanted it out of his mouth. Your heart slams against your ribs, fear making your hairs stand on end as his nails bite into your skin harder.

He walks you back until you’re pressed against the counter top, and the familiar sensation of cold sweat starts to cause beads along your forehead. The menacing look in his dark eyes never leaves as he stares holes into your soul. He leans in, his warm, minty breath spreading across your ear and neck as he speaks, “if I hear another fucking word come out of your mouth, I’ll shut it for you.”

You can’t fight the whimper that escapes and you quite literally feel him tense. He becomes a marble statue right in front of you as you feel another stab of adrenaline course through your heating body. You feel like an eternity passes before he pulls away, pure ice in his stare. He pulls you forward so that his nose is millimeters away from yours, and you feel the warning- the malice that radiates off his body, warming yours.

Fuck- this shouldn’t turn you on but it does. And he knows it.

After a few beats, he squeezes your jaw hard. Not hard enough to actually hurt you, but hard enough to get his point across before letting go. With one hand, he reaches for the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing and tugs it up and over your head. His dark eyes never leave your face as he pulls his own shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere near yours. 

You can’t think, let alone breathe as he picks you up with ease and places you on the counter, and wraps his forearms around your thighs, dragging you toward the edge as he kneels down on the ground. “Lift your ass- take off these shorts.” He ordered. There were no niceties- no kindness in his tone. His demand was final, and one to not take lightly. You do as he says without hesitation and lift your hips, sliding your shorts down to reveal no panties underneath. Your stopped by his arms, and he finishes the job by yanking them off your dangling legs. “You are to stay upright. If you lean back, you’re done.” You feebly nod, but when he doesn’t move, you open your dry mouth. “Ok.” 

He narrows his dark eyes, and you fix your mistake. “Yes, sir.” You squeak. Satisfied with your reply, he pushes your thighs apart. You bite your lip and you do your best to abide by his demands as he devours your core like a man starved. Leaving absolutely no part of of you untouched. You can’t help but want more, what he’s giving you is only for him. For his satisfaction, and not yours. When you realize this, you immediately get angry. “Chris-” You plead, trying to escape his hold. Your wiggling only causes his arms to clamp down on your upper thighs, a low growl emitting from between your legs. “Knock it off.” He warned, not looking at you. He pauses long enough for you to quit squirming before continuing. 

“Chris- not fair!” You gasp as he nips your sensitive clit. “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s fair.” He snaps. Anger and malice drip from his every word, “You’ll sit there and take what I give you until I’m done. Understood?” You feebly nod, causing him to pinch your thigh, making you squeal. “Yes, sir!” You cry out, grabbing ahold of the edges of the countertop as he continues his assault on your pussy. 

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’ve came, tears are rolling down your cheeks and even trying to push Chris’s head away didn’t stop the pure force of nature he is. When Chris wants something, he gets it. He pulls away, slowly rising to his feet. Finally, you think, slumping back against the counter, completely exhausted. Your eyes trail up his toned torso, along the lines of your ecstasy covering his chest, neck and lower face. You watch as he slowly leans over and grabs a towel for himself, wiping away your juices before he pushes down his gym shorts. 

You lean up slightly to watch as he runs his right hand along his hardened cock, groaning with satisfaction as he tugs. You practically watch the shiver run down his spine. His dark eyes trail up you flushed body to your chest, watching it rise and fall rapidly with each breath you take. He reaches up and tugs the wiring down of your bra, causing your breasts to bounce out of the fabric. Chris reaches up, taking your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it until you cry out, arching off the countertop and into his hand. He chuckles darkly, stopping and giving your left breast a hard smack before doing the same to your right side. Once he’s satisfied with how red your now swollen breasts are, he stops rubbing himself off and lines up with your entrance. “Chris-” You begin to beg, new hot tears forming along your eyes.

He bares his teeth at you, causing you to stop talking. “The only noise I want coming out of that mouth, is your pretty little cries.” He hisses. “Anything else, and things will only get worse for you, stupid baby.” Your bottom lip trembles, and a wicked smile is plastered on his face as he shoves himself into you, causing a loud moan to escape your throat. 

You were oversenstive, cumming as much as you did did nothing but make you raw, sore even. But somehow, you managed to get wet enough to take his dick, making him moan into your red chest. 

He digs his nails into your hips, pulling you off the counter just enough so he could guide your ass how he wanted. You held onto the counter for dearlife, but knew better- Chris would never drop you. Intentionally or otherwise. He never had. But still, the gesture was instinctual. 

Chris pounds into your core, heat rising through your body like a wildfire- threatening to burn everything in it’s wake no matter the consequences. You moan loudly, head lulling between your shoulder blades as he picks up his god-like speed until your babbling, begging him to let you cum one more time. He moans, laughing at you. 

“You think I’ll let you cum? You’re stupider than I thought. It’s my turn. Be grateful for the times you did.” He growls, pounding into you harder than before. But you can’t help begging, it was just natural at this point. Especially when he fucked you like he hated you. His thrusts began to get erratic, groans coming out in broken pants as he started to cum. You watch as the man before you crumbles, shattering as he throws his head back in ecstasy before slamming into you one last time.

You remain like that for a short while, panting and chests heaving before he looks down at you. He slowly, carefully, pulls out and helps you stand to your feet. He snorts, watching as your legs shake and nearly give out. “Poor baby. Did I go too hard?” When you toss him a glare, he laughs. “Too much gym time? Awe, guess I should go a little easier next time, hmm?” Chris kisses the top of your head before sweeping you into his arms. “Maybe not. I do quite like being able to sweep you off your feet.” He winks, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“I want to feel bad for being so mean, but,” he shrugged, “you deserved it.” You glower but can’t help but to like it. Chris may be a meanie sometimes when fucking, but you’d both be liars if you said that neither of you didn’t like it.  

©️straykids-97

Sorry if this is garbage heh. I haven't written in months, so trying to dip my toes back into it. Please, lmk what you think of it!!

[lily-fics-11]

I Can See You: Chapter 2 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

*Not beta read

Ellie Williams is a player, on and off the lacrosse field. You begin tutoring her so that she can get her grades up and stay on the team. You try to keep things professional, however, your affection is a great motivator. Ellie wouldn't be caught dead with you so you become her secret mission. 

Chapter 2

Ellie’s behavior towards you fluctuates and you aren’t quite sure why. You go to her lacrosse game when you need to learn more about lacrosse, she ends up giving you a private lesson.

Word count: 4k

CW: Profanities, reference to sexual situations and feelings, innuendos, slight intimacy, *Ellie and reader are both 18*

“Under one condition, we keep things professional.”

Ellie, though in need of a few reminders, holds up her end of the bargain. Sure, she is naturally flirtatious but the two of you start to become… friends? She genuinely wants to get to know you and becomes more comfortable being open about her own life. 

However, as your friendship continues to grow, you can’t help but want her as more than that. You gave the ultimatum, but it wasn't long before you regretted it. Even though it was the right thing to do. 

Seeing Ellie in the hallway goes from inspiring admiration to longing begrudgingly. Pangs of jealousy spike when you see her talking to other girls. 

With a little probing, Ellie starts to share her academically oriented interests, and she wants to teach you about them since you’ve taught her so much. You started by asking if there were any sections of a museum that she likes. Turns out that she has an affinity for dinosaurs. “You should watch Jurassic Park with me. I could point out every type of dinosaur for you,” she declared confidentially. 

You smile and shake your head. “Ellie, you can’t just ask me on a movie date. Professional, remember?”

She raises her eyebrows in shock but you can see in her eyes that she absolutely intended it that way. “I’m not asking you on a date! I'm trying to educate you on a subject that actually matters.”

“So that’s not just one of your tricks, telling a girl you are going to teach her about dinosaurs so you can impress her? Get her close enough to kiss?” You are frowning, not wanting Ellie to see you as some girl to put her moves on. 

She looks a little disgusted. “Do you think girls are impressed by dinosaur facts? That would be a tyrannosaurus wreck.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I would be impressed.”

“You’re nothing like the girls I usually date.”

“Good.”

In an attempt to get Ellie further invested you ask her about her dream job. You expected her to say professional athlete, but she actually wants to be an astronaut.

“I like to go to the planetarium, you should come with me some time,” she offers nonchalantly. 

“I’m not so sure about that Ellie, sounds like a date to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve never dated a girl that would want to go to the planetarium.”

You roll your eyes back at her, but also laugh. “Maybe you are dating the wrong kind of girl.”

“Then maybe you are the right…” she stutters, “right about the girls I date.”

Things go on that way over the next few tutoring sessions before there is a shift in Ellie’s behavior. She is suddenly quiet, and even a bit awkward. You wonder if she’s tired of being friendly and doesn’t know how to say it. The weird thing is that you see her looking back at you when you watch her in the hallway. She’s never done that before, and only started after acting differently. 

While working on her Spanish homework one day the silence is driving you crazy. You can’t help but say something.

“You have nothing, I don’t know… random, to say?” 

“Random?” She questions nervously. 

“You haven’t asked ‘donde está la biblioteca’ for no reason. You haven’t answered any of the questions with ‘vamos a la play, a mi me gusta baila.’”

“I guess I’ve just been… feeling things. About you…” she stutters, “what you’ve said. I really could do well if I focused enough. I’m going to college to play lacrosse, but doing something I actually want doesn't need to end there.”

Ellie won’t carry a conversation. Nonetheless, you continue to catch her looking at you, anytime or anywhere you see her. She will force down a smile, look away, and pretend like it didn’t happen. You try to stay in your lane but you end up confronting her.

You stare her down until she makes eye contact, she looks a little startled. “You know I can see you, right?”

Her cheeks go pink. “Well I am sitting across from you. Best seat in the house.” She laughs but it is forced and fake.

You cross your arms. “Not like that. Actually looking at me, here, and in the hallways.”

Ellie’s eyes nervously dart around the room. “I like to be aware of my surroundings, I look at everything.”

That makes your eyes squint and your nose scrunch. “I see you looking at me, which would be whatever, but it started after you stopped talking to me. It doesn’t make any sense!”

Ellie huffs and runs a hand through her hair. “I’ve just got a lot going on. The first game of the season is coming up. I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to… uh, get your help. And when I do work I get nervous because I, uh, know there is a lot of pressure for me to do well. I hope you know that I,” she clears her throat, “appreciate you.”

You unfold your arms and busy your hands with papers on the table. “I’m sorry Ellie, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’ll leave you alone from now on, it’s none of my business.”

“Please don’t leave me alone,” she mumbles, her green eyes glassy. You’ve never seen her like this and you wonder if anyone ever has.

“I’m here for you Ellie, I’m not going anywhere,” you assure her and she snaps back into reality. She hurriedly gets back to her work, speaking no unnecessary words or making any eye contact for the rest of the period.

The day before the first game of the season your ears perk up when you overhear Ellie’s name in the chatter coming from the table next to you during lunch.

“Anna is upset because Ellie doesn’t flirt with her in class anymore,” one girl shares. 

“Ellie as in Ellie Williams?” Another questions.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound like her.”

“I heard that if she doesn’t fix her grades soon she won’t be allowed to play anymore.”

You would like to say your initial thought upon hearing this was being proud of Ellie. However, the first thing that crossed your mind was an embarrassing satisfaction, knowing that she’s giving less attention to other girls. Even if you aren’t receiving that sort of attention in turn

Later that day you meet with Ellie. You aren’t going to say anything flat out, but you are proud of her, and wonder why she hasn’t mentioned anything. Even if things are awkward, you hope she knows that you care. 

Ellie is on high alert, which makes sense, the first game of the season is looming over her. Between subjects you casually inquire, “how have things been going in class?”

“Uh, fine I guess,” she mumbles, not looking up. 

“Do you think tutoring is, I don’t know, helping you focus?” You question. “Maybe understand things better as they are being taught?”

“Well it is what made me want to stop…” she hesitates to finish the sentence. “Doing things the way I was.”

Your face lights up. “So you are paying more attention?”

Her posture slumps. “I try. But sometimes I think a lot. Get lost in my own head.”

“I understand that it’s easy to get lost in thought, but doing your best to listen to your teachers could make things a lot easier for you.” You do your best to be gentle and encouraging. 

A smile starts to creep up on Ellie’s face. “I don’t need to listen to them, I have you. You are way more attrac- more accommodating than any teacher I’ve ever had.”

You giggle a little. “I appreciate the compliment, Ellie, but they are the professionals.”

She purses her lips. “It makes sense why you would have faith in them. They have faith in you. They’ve never believed in me.”

Your face drops hearing her say that. “For whatever it may be worth, I believe in you.”

Ellie’s eyes widen and her freckled cheeks blush. “No one has said that to me about anything other than lacrosse in a long time, except Joel.”

“Who’s Joel?” You ask curiously. 

“My dad.” She informs you with a small smile, you can tell she must really care about him by the sparkle in her eyes. 

“You call him Joel?”

Ellie runs a hand through her hair. “It’s… complicated.”

That’s not your business and you are happy she’s already shared so much with you. “Well you should listen to Joel, he knows what he’s talking about.”

Ellie goes quiet for the rest of your time together and you don’t push her not to be.

As she is leaving you call for her to wait. She turns towards you and her green eyes are wide and expectant, there is a certain glimmer in them that you haven’t seen before.

“Good luck with your game tomorrow, Ellie.”

On the day of the game you can’t help but stare at Ellie more than usual in her suit and tie. The team always dresses up on game day. She catches you looking and licks her lips with raised eyebrows, clearly pleased with herself, before returning her attention to the friends she is walking with.

Lacrosse seems to be haunting you when your gym teacher announces that it’s the next thing you are going to be covering. 

The teacher hardly goes over anything before splitting the class into two teams and throwing everyone into a game. Ellie plays with grace and ease, not even the other lacrosse players can compare. You try to watch what she’s doing, and that’s obviously the only reason you are looking at her, to try and see if you can figure out how this sport works. But that is really hard to do when you are worried about getting hit in the face with a flying ball or swinging stick. 

In the locker room after class you hear a few girls giggling and talking about how they can’t wait to see Ellie play this afternoon. It hits you that it would be the perfect opportunity to see how lacrosse is supposed to be played without risking your personal safety. You could study the game, but just the game. Nothing else. At least that’s what you are telling yourself. 

After the final bell of the day you hang around school before the game starts, with your friend Nicole. You convinced her to come to the game with you. She doesn’t seem to have any suspicions that you may have ulterior motives for attending. You start reading the chapters needed for one of your classes tomorrow to pass the time.

When you get to the field the bleachers are pretty packed, rivaling the crowd you’ve seen (only on other students' social media stories), at football games. 

You and Nicole take a seat far to one side that isn’t too densely packed. 

The team takes the field and you spot Ellie immediately, you would recognize that stance anywhere. She is wearing number 11, which happens to be your lucky number, on the opposing team's 30 yard line. You hadn’t planned this, but she is basically in line with where you are sitting. Taking a closer look you see a tattoo on her forearm, which definitely doesn’t have you feeling any type of way. 

You recognize Abby Anderson wearing number 7, from her phenomenal physique. Ellie isn’t the only girl on the team you are attracted to. Abby faces off with a tall girl from the other team in the middle of the field. When the referee blows the whistle their two sticks, and the ball, shoot up into the air. Abby jumps higher and secures the ball for her team. She passes it right to Ellie, who makes a quick getaway, and effortlessly scores before 30 seconds has gone by. You don’t really know how this all works, but from the way the crowd roars that must be impressive. 

The first half goes by rather quickly. You would like to say you were engrossed by all the action, but it was number 11 that was consuming your thoughts. In your defense a lot of the game centered around her, she scored 3 out of the 4 goals for her team, they are winning 4 - 2, and had a ton of assists.

As the team takes the field for the second half your eyes find Ellie immediately, and you could swear that she was looking back at you. She is too far away to tell for sure, and wearing goggles, making it easy to fall prey to delusion. The game starts but Ellie doesn’t move until the ball is passed to her and it wizzes past her head while she is still facing your direction. She snaps out of being distracted and manages to recover the ball. Did she actually notice you? 

“Get it together Williams!” the coach yells at her and that only makes Ellie run faster. She rolls around a defender and scores a goal. That one hiccup didn’t stop Ellie from performing with near perfection the rest of the game. She does, however, glance in your direction every once in a while. But your head must be messing with you, right?

Ellie scores 4 more goals in the second half, leading her team to victory with a final score of 12 - 5.

“You are tutoring her, right?” Nicole asks as you clear out of the stands with the rest of the spectators. 

“Who?” You ask, playing dumb and praying she didn’t notice the trance number 11 had you in for the last hour and a half. 

“Ellie Williams.”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply, acting as natural as possible.

“She really is as good as everyone says she is, I hope you can help her stay off the bench.” 

Nicole doesn’t try to discuss Ellie any further and you thank the universe for its mercy. You part ways after exiting the bleachers because you forgot a textbook in your locker. While making your way back to the school you spot Ellie talking to a ruggedly handsome man. He looks slightly older than you would expect an 18 year old’s father to be, but that must be Joel. You don’t spend too long looking at him, not when Ellie looks so hot now that her goggles are off. Sweat is glistening on her forehead and her short ponytail is tousled with a piece in the front falling across her face. You shake your head to rattle the thoughts of what other activities make her look like that.

When you finally get back to your locker you pull out the textbook and notice that the bookmark you had in it is gone, it must have fallen out. While you can still recall the images on the page you left off on you flip through to find it. Then you get stuck in the hallway even longer when your mom calls you, questioning whether or not you are going to be home for dinner, and what you want to eat.

By the time you make it out to the parking lot there aren’t too many cars left, just those of the lacrosse players who are starting to trickle out of the locker room. You start driving, and as you pass the door Ellie has just stepped out of it. You accidentally make eye contact with her, and she flashes you a devilish grin. In turn you force a smile through your embarrassment and quickly look back ahead of you, praying she didn’t notice how red she has turned your face. 

There is a mischievous fire burning in Ellie William’s eyes when she enters the library for her tutoring session the next day, with a confidence she has recently lacked. “I can't believe you came to watch me play, tutor girl.”

You roll your eyes. “I was there to study.”

“Study what? My physique?” Ellie licks her lips, obviously trying to draw your attention there. “I do look pretty good in the uniform. It shows off my muscles, and my tattoo. Plus green really is my color.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to convince her that her charm isn’t working on you, even though it is. “I was studying lacrosse, for gym.”

Ellie’ nose scrunches up, quite adorably. “Why would you need to study lacrosse?”

“We are being graded on participation, but it’s hard to participate when you have no clue what you are doing.”

Her pupils expand instantaneously and her lips part. “You would be a little too powerful if you were able to play sports, you are already so smart.” She turns away and you swear you hear her mumble “especially when you look like that.”  

You bite your lip for a moment, almost giving in to the energy that Ellie is projecting. “They don’t offer tutoring for gym class. I figured watching an actual game would be beneficial.”

Something wicked, yet playful, flickers in her striking eyes. “I could tutor you.”

You start to panic, spending more time than necessary with this attractive girl can't mean anything but trouble. “That won’t be necessary,” you rush to say.

“Oh come on, would you turn down the chance to be tutored in physics by Newton?”

“Are you calling yourself the Isaac Newton of lacrosse?”

“That’s just the first analogy I could come up with. It will be so much easier for you if I show you what to do. Since you won’t let me teach you about dinosaurs and space you could at least let me teach you this. You would never want to go on a sports date, so I can help you out and keep things professional.”

“It would be really helpful to have someone show me exactly what to do.”

“My practice ends tomorrow at noon, come at 1, that way no one sees us together.” Ellie passes you her phone with her contacts open so you can add yourself in. “I’ll teach you how to shoot your shot.”

“You know what Williams, I’ll see you then.”

When you get to the field Ellie is alone, waiting for you, looking undeniably sexy. Her legs are casually spread and her elbows rest on the bleacher bench above hers. The sun has kissed her face wondrously, though her cheeks and nose are burnt a little pink. And her hair, messy from playing hard, you wish you were the one making it look like that.

Ellie saunters down to the field with all her things, and the extra lacrosse stick she had said she would bring for you in your brief text message exchange. You reach out for the stick right away, not leaving room for any funny business. 

She looks a little taken aback at first, but smiles playfully while hungrily looking you up and down. You can see her try to focus in when she suggests “why don’t we start with you showing me how you hold the stick.”

You try to take an athletic stance, legs bent at the knees, feet shoulder width apart. You at least know that much. You fiddle with the stick a little before taking your final guess at how to grasp it. “Is this correct?” you ask.

Ellie blinks rapidly and one corner of her mouth turns up. “Gotta be honest with you tutor girl, not even close. I have to ask, what were you paying attention to during the game if you didn't no even see how to hold the stick?” She looks you in the eyes, seductively. Like she knows exactly what had your attention.

Your mouth scrunches to one side as you try to find an excuse.  “The ball!” you blurt out. “I got distracted following where the ball was.”

Ellie stands with her hands on her hips, chin up in the air, looking way too pleased with herself. “I’m sure. Let me show you how to hold the stick.”

You expect her to show you with her own stick. Instead, Ellie gets recklessly close and puts her hands over yours to reposition them. Your heart rate shoots up and you thank god the long fingers of her veiny hands aren’t too close to where she can feel your pulse booming. Ellie remains in your personal space long enough for you to smell her cologne. It’s pretty strong, like she just sprayed it. The scent attracts you to her more than usual being in an unusual proximity. It's earthy, woodsy, and suits her well. You are distracted by her tattoo when she pulls away, it draws your eyes, and up close you notice that it’s covering a scar. 

Ellie clears her throat but doesn’t step away. “Now that you’ve got that, show me how you cradle.”

“Why don’t you just show me how you do it?” Being able to feel the heat radiating off her body on this cool spring day, her warm skin touching yours, it’s a dangerous game. It will only leave you longing for more. However, watching her strong hands and muscular arms in action can give you at least some satisfaction, without too much temptation. 

Ellie demonstrates how to cradle the ball before letting you try. You hold the stick and swivel your body. 

“Hold on, it’s gotta come from your wrists, not your torso. Ears to nose.” Before you can correct yourself she grabs your shoulders, more tender than you would expect the rough and tough Ellie Williams to be. She could have remained an arms length away, but she is nearly pressed up against you. When she tells you  “I’m going to keep your body in place so that you can only move the way I want you to,” you can feel her breath on your neck, creating a ripple of goosebumps.

Your breath hitches and you bite your lip so that you don’t audibly gasp. “Are you going to give it a try?” She snickers after you had taken time to bring back your thoughts from the dirty place she clearly wanted them to go. You can hear the smirk in her voice, she knows exactly what she is doing.

“Yeahhhh,” you grumble before you start. She gives you a few corrections as you practice and eventually you get the hang of it. You step away first and turn to face her. 

“I’ve gotta say Williams, I’ve been on dates where I’ve been touched less.”

She raises an eyebrow and scratches her head. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

You cross your arms. “Touching my hands, holding my shoulders…”

“Let’s just say it’s easier to cradle you through this. I wouldn’t do it if I had no reason to, professional was the deal. But I’m not going to act like it’s absolutely necessary, or that I don’t enjoy it. But, if you had let me teach you about dinosaurs I wouldn’t have an excuse to do this. Though I wouldn’t complain if you got scared and let me put my arm around you. I want to steal a kiss but I’m not going to.”

“If this is the easiest way to get this done, so be it,” you huff, trying to disguise your excitement.

Ellie goes on to teach you how to throw and catch. Eventually you can do those a few times in a row when tossing the ball back and forth to each other.  

When you realize how long the two of you have spent together you tell her “I think this is enough… enough to get me a grade that won’t skew my GPA.”

“Are you sure? I don’t have anything to do until tonight.” Ellie looks at her wrist like she is checking a watch, even though she isn’t wearing one. “I don’t mind taking my time with you.”

Your face is burning, and not from the exercise. “I appreciate that. I’ve got a lot of work to do though. Thank you Ellie, I really appreciate you doing this for me.” 

“Anything for you, tutor girl.”

(Shout out to my sister Nicole for being my lacrosse expert) 

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @dinanellie, @everegretseverything, @mikellie, @lamolaine

[arachine]

. . . 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

— pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

general tags: college! au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive

content warnings: period cramps, reader is a baby, ellie is patient, kissing, allusions to sex, brief mention of dealer!ellie + not proofread and also not my best work bc i was in pain !

note: this is super self-indulgent bc i am, unfortunately, on my monthly, and so, i am making it everyone’s problem >.<

ellie’s annoyed. actually, she’s concerned—maybe, slightly, kind of more than that too, but right now, she’s annoyed. this wasn’t like you—not answering messages, not answering calls.

she’d understand it if you were busy, especially since finals season was steadily approaching as the days passed, but she knew you didn’t have any plans today. that much was confirmed the last time she’d spoken to you, which was, if she could recall (she could recall it perfectly), last night at 8:00 p.m.

future wife 👰‍♀️: gn baby, see you tomorrow for breakfast! get some sleep ok? <33

ellie: alr goodnight baby. i’ll come get you at 9 ok? don’t oversleep this time, wanna get some french toast before all the athletes take it :/

future wife 👰‍♀️: never gonna let me live it down, huh?

ellie: never!

future wife 👰‍♀️: god alr, i won’t oversleep!!! promise :3 now gn fr this time!!! gts!!!

ellie: ok bossy i’m going to sleep 🫡 love you

that was the last message she’d sent to you that night. this morning, however, she made an effort to send you a slew of follow-up texts before making her way over to your dorm:

ellie: good morning sexy, you up?

ellie: it’s french toast time ☝🏻

ellie: don’t tell me you’re sleeping…

there was five minutes sent in-between each message, and yet, still no response. that’s when she got the bright idea to call.

“alright, this should wake her up,” she raised the phone to her ear, pacing around her apartment while waiting for the line to go through. to her dismay, it rung a few times before going straight to voicemail—to which she almost got excited over because you’ve got one of those annoying ass voicemails that sound like someone picked up the line.

“hey […], this is (name). sorry you can’t reach me right now, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you as soon as i c—”

“fucking hell.” ellie pinches the knot between her brows and sighs, ending the call before voicemail you can finish your sentence. again, she calls, thinking this time you’ll answer, but to no avail. it goes right to voicemail.

“the fuck…” she doesn’t even bother leaving a message. beelines right to her closet and grabs her sneaks, a hoodie, and her wallet, then heads out of her apartment building and begins the trek to your dormitory.

when she gets there, she buzzes in with her student keycard, and pads right up to the security desk. just as she’s about to open her mouth, one of the guards sitting interrupts her.

“can i see your proof of residence, please?” he says blankly, raising a fig bar up to his mouth.

“randy, really? you know me, i’m here almost every other day—just without my girlfriend—who i’m actually here to see,” she raises a finger, forearms leaning forward over the desk. randy feigns indifference, and opts to stuff the last of his bar in his mouth.

“you’re not a resident here, ellie. sorry, but you know the rules.”

“how about you shove the rules up your a—actually, that’s alright. my buddy right here will sign me in as a guest.” she grins devilishly at the dark haired man across the lobby, blinking once, twice, before flashing him a smile.

“jesse! my life saver, my best-friend, my messiah, my—“

“what do you want, ellie?” he rolls his eyes, pulling out his student keycard to flash randy. ellie purses her lips as if she’s been found out, then pulls jesse aside by the cloth of his jacket. she leans in real close so that what she says is out of earshot.

“sign me in as a guest and i’ll give you free weed during your next visit,” she bargains, wiggling her brows like she knows the offer is too good to pass up. jesse doesn’t answer her right away. instead, opts to tease her. puts his index finger on his chin, and opens his stance as if he’s really mulling it over. ellie’s not impressed.

a beat, then, he shrugs, mumbling a quick ‘better keep your word williams’.

ellie grins, something real big and cheshire-like, because she knows him. who’d be stupid enough to pass up free weed? exactly, no one. especially not a stressed college student, that’s for sure.

“thanks man, you’re really doing me a solid, you know,” she pats his back, to which he mutters a knowing ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’. she watches intently as he signs her in under his name, then makes a face at randy when she hands over her student keycard for him to keep.

“see ya later rand’!” the auburn haired girl says with the flick of a hand, turning the corner of the desk to get to the elevators.

“yeah, whatever.”

. . .

once the elevator comes to a halt on your floor, ellie gives jesse a final thank you before departing. as she walks down the winding hallway, she can’t help but to think the worst. what if you were unconscious? what if you’d been axe-murdered? what if you’d been kidnapped? all very unlikely, she knows, but not impossible.

when her mind sifts through a few more frightening scenarios, she realizes she’s already made it to your door. should she knock? she feels like she should knock, but then she figures if all her previous attempts to wake you up were unsuccessful, then who’s to say a few measly knocks would do the trick?

she decides against it. instead, she unhooks her carabiner from her jeans and fiddles around with her set of keys until she finds the spare you’d given her. until now, she’d never used it. the day you’d given it to her, you’d told her it was strictly for ‘emergencies’, and what better time to use it than now? this was surely an emergency, right?

the door unlocks and she immediately goes to twist the knob, pushes the door open and then shuts it closed behind her.

“babe, you here?” she calls out, walking through the kitchen, “you alive?” turns down the hall, “you in one piece?”

a beat. silence—save for the heavy padding of her boots as she makes her way towards your bedroom. the door is cracked open, just by a sliver, but she can see—or at least somewhat make out—the beginnings of a sleeping silhouette.

she pushes the door open and ambles to your bedside. you were fast asleep. curled up into a tight little ball with the duvet pulled up to your chin, and a mean little pout on your lips. it was adorable, and it made ellie’s heart twang with relief. at least now that she was able to verify your safety, she could forget all those terrible thoughts that she was getting herself all worked up over.

“hey, sweet girl,” she cooed, brushing the pad of her thumb over your cheek. your brows cinched in response, but you didn’t move. not even an inch. “baby,” ellie drawled in a sing-song voice.

she let her hand fall from your cheek to your back, and she rubbed it in slow, steady circles in an attempt to rouse you. after a while of this—a combination of her rubbing and cooing—you started to react.

“mmm,” you groaned, curling your knees up higher, “it hurts.”

“what hurts? what’s wrong?” opening your eyes, you were able to pair the voice of concern with a familiar face.

“ellie? what are you doing here?”

she lets a small chuckle escape her lips, then raises a hand to rest atop your head.

“what am i doing here? what are you doing here? had me worried sick about you,” she smooths a hand over your head, “missed our breakfast date.”

sighing, you slap a clammy hand over your head, then reach over ellie to grab your phone from the nightstand.

ten messages. three missed calls.

“god, i’m sorry, bellie. took some midol and melatonin last night so that i could beat these cramps, but i guess they worked a little too good, huh?”

“yeah, you nut.” she takes a glance at your nightstand and picks up the bottle of pills, shakes them around before settling them back down. “how many did you take?”

“just two…maybe three?” ellie’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“three? babe, these are 500 mg. why would you do that? the bottle says take two every six hours, and here you are taking more than the recommended amount, on top of taking melatonin,” she chides, though, it’s more out of genuine concern than it is her actually being upset.

you laugh at your own expense, but it’s short-lived because a second later, you’re clutching for your belly and writhing in pain.

ellie sighs, kicks her boots off and fully climbs up onto the bed and under the covers. once she settles into a comfortable position, she pulls you into her side.

“i know, baby, let me take care of you,” she strokes your back soothingly, “but next time, please don’t take that much. were you planning on sleeping forever?”

“maybe.” you jest, snuggling further into her warmth. admittedly, mixing both of those drugs was kind of stupid—maybe really stupid, but in your defense, you were in pain!—and really desperate. when you have cramps this bad, sometimes death sounds like mercy.

“oh, yeah?” the laugh she lets out is a deep rumble, and you can feel the vibrations of it as you lay on her chest. it’s soothing. a remedy that you should’ve utilized sooner, and you would’ve, had you been in the right headspace.

“mhm…” you purr, looking up at her, at her lips. ellie scans your face for pain, then dips down and pilfers a kiss from your lips. it’s slow, and sweet, and ends far too soon for your liking. before she can pull away, you tug her by the collar of her shirt. look up at her with pleading eyes, and fist it tighter between your knuckles.

“more,” you drawl, pulling her back down to meet your lips. she indulges you, because of course she does, and pushes you onto your back.

“thought,” a kiss, “your,” another, “cramps were bothering you?” she queries, breathless as she holds herself up above your sprawled out body. she thumbs with the hem of your shirt, waits expectantly for you to answer.

“they are,” you say, “so why don’t you make ‘em go away?”

and what kind of girlfriend would she be if did otherwise?

© arachine 2023

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 9

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ramp up the angst, guilt trips all around, hospitals, bits of fluff in all the chaos, smut (with a heavy dose of more angst)

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Well, there was no way this wasn't going to be angsty af. Enjoy the ride, loves! 😘

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 9: Marooned

The cool, breezy autumn air whipped you across your face, a sharp, frigid sting in your lungs that burned right through to your heart. Each breath you desperately clutched was a fight for life.

Your mind, moonstruck and lunatic, spun complicated cobwebs. Your feeble body and fragile bones threatened to crumble and crack underneath the devastating weight of the truth. You crouched down on the parking lot asphalt, head heavy in your shaking hands.

“Hey, hey, just breathe…” Beau’s deep voice and warm hand on your back were a short-lived comfort before the first sob broke through you.

He knelt down in front of you, large hands cupping your head when your own grew too tired to hold it. He rested his forehead against yours, green eyes leveling with you. His thumbs wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“Maybe it’s not him,” Beau bargained, his voice a soft whisper. His disavowing mind refused to accept what his breaking heart knew to be true.

However, there was no doubt in yours. “No, I’m sure it’s him.”

“It still might not be true… It could be one of those CGI deep-fakes. You know, they’ve gotten crazy good… She just wants to mess with us,” Beau tried to reason, every bone in his body fighting to accept the truth. Because as soon as he would acknowledge it, he’d lose you. How could he live with that?

Your eyes lifted from the ground, your gaze boring into his. “You really believe that?” Your voice was harsh enough to break through the solid brick barrier he had erected over his heart, your words a wrecking ball. A jittery and hesitant lick of his lips was his abdication. He lowered his head in resignation. “How’s that even possible? You saw him die, right?

Beau’s mouth opened without an answer, his eyes flickered alive with memories. Panic rose with realization and poisoned the pumping blood that coursed through his heart. “I-I saw him get dragged away… I heard the shot.”

He was sure. He was so, so, so sure. And then, it all fell apart. What had he done?

You straightened up, slipping out of his grasp, and clasped your mouth, turning your back to him as your body rattled with shock. “Oh my God… Oh God…”

Beau rose to his feet behind you and swallowed harshly as the realization hit him like a freight train. He wanted to reach out and touch you, needing you now more than ever, but he didn’t know if he still could. His mind raced a mile a minute with questions he couldn’t find an answer to.

How was Randy still alive? Had the cartel kept him all this time? How did Diane find out? And how the hell did she get a hold of him?

“Y/N, I-… I don’t know what to say.” His voice trembled. He could feel you drift further and further away from him till you were just a dot out on the vast ocean. He didn’t want to lose you but didn’t know how to stop it, either. He thought all he needed was for you to just look at him, and it would all be right again. But when you did, it shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“All this time he was alive and God knows where. I-I could’ve looked for him. I could’ve helped him…”

“You didn’t know,” Beau said softly, pushing your blame onto himself. He could’ve known. He should’ve known. He felt helpless, lost, adrift. “Y/N, what d’you want me to do?”

You needed a moment to clear your head enough to think straight. If it wasn’t Randy but any other victim, what would you do next?

“We need to find that bunker. Get him outta there,” you concluded. “You think he’s still alive? You think she’d kill him?”

Recalling the snippet of the video, you remembered the timeline only read an hour instead of the usual forty-eight. It wasn’t about making you suffer through his death because you’d already done that. Diane just wanted you to see.

Beau knew there were only two possible options. Either Diane caught Randy only to show he was still alive and then kill him, or she brought him back into your life to wreak havoc. But the hows and whys didn’t really matter. Both options would cause a rift between you two wider than the Grand Canyon. If Randy was back, dead or alive, Beau’s relationship with you wouldn’t survive it.

He knew it was over. You’d never pick him. He wasn’t the love of your life. He wasn’t your once in a lifetime. He wasn’t true love.

He was your second choice. The one you were stuck with. Your rebound.

“I don’t know,” Beau replied and forced some oxygen into his lungs. He didn’t know for how long he had held his breath. For a minute there, he had forgotten how to breathe at all – and he didn’t even care.

The ringing of your phone broke both of you out of your haze and fatal fantasies. You fished it out of your pocket and stared at the screen with a furrowed brow.

“Who is it?”

“Unknown caller,” you replied before you answered the phone, pinning it between your shoulder and ear. “Hello? Yes, this her…”

Beau watched as your eyes widened, how your brow rose, how your mouth fell open, how your heart stopped. As you hung up, he could see you swallow before you found his eyes. He waited with bated breath for news he already knew.

“That was the hospital here. They said someone brought in my husband.”

The stone silent ten-minute drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Beau drove, his grip stiff and knuckle-white around the steering wheel. The heat of the old Jeep had barely kicked in by the time you arrived, your hot breaths coming out in vaporizing clouds as you bit your nails bloody and down to their beds on the passenger’s seat. Neither of you spoke a word, too terrified it would cut the last string between you that still tied you to each other.

As the bright sign of the hospital came into view, your heart thudded in your ears, so loudly you could barely hear the world around you anymore. Everything was subdued and distorted as if someone was holding your head underwater. All you wanted was air, but your lungs flooded with water.

Beau killed the engine in the parking lot. Both of you sat there in silence and petrified in time, two fossils buried deep in the earth and uncovered by archeologists with fine brushes millions of years later.

His gaze drifted up to the star-filled sky, green eyes locked on the North Star. He wished he could rewind the tape to that night, all the way back to the start where the two of you were still alive. His eyes then swerved to your hand that lay there untouched on the edge of your seat, his own palm twitching to hold it in his.

“You want me to come in with you?” Beau asked carefully.

It was the first time since you’d left the Sheriff’s Department that you looked at him again. Your eyes were pleading. “Of course I do. Please don’t go. Don’t let me do this alone.”

Then, you saw it – the flicker of relief that flashed through him. You recognized the insecurity and apprehension in his eyes. Your heart dropped. You had been so consumed by the news, you hadn’t noticed how he had spiraled. You clasped his hand tightly in yours. He squeezed it desperately back. He was drowning, and your touch was the lifeline he had been waiting for.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see him. I don’t know if I’m ready to see you with him,” Beau confessed. He had endangered his best friend, deserted him, and left him to die. And that wasn’t even the worst he’d done. The worst was you.

“Me neither,” you admitted and interlaced your fingers with his. “We’ll take it step by step, okay?”

He nodded.

As the nurse sent you down the hallway to your believed-to-be-dead but actually only-long-lost husband, you didn’t know what to expect as your hand lingered on the door handle.

Beau could not only feel the tension in your body but physically see it. The stiffness in your neck and shoulders, the tremble in your hands, and the twitch in your eyes were a dead giveaway.

As you felt Beau behind you with a hesitant palm resting on your lower back, you wondered if you should tell Randy. You supposed you had to at some point. And suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

You had been so focused on what awaited you in that room, you hadn’t thought about what your husband expected. Or was it ex? Did he know you had moved on? Were you still allowed to? Would he be happy for you? Would he let you go? Would he hate you for it? He probably would, considering who you ended up with. Or maybe you had it all wrong, and he would be relieved it was someone he loved, too. Wouldn’t you be if the roles were reversed?

His death had severed your ties, but now that he was back, were your vows, too? Did he even know everyone thought he was dead? Had you cheated? Was that what Diane had been trying to tell you? That you had sinned? That you were a liar? That you were awful? That you were a whore?

“Should I-, uhm…”

“No,” Beau answered your dangling question as if he could read your mind. He dropped his hand from your back and ceased all contact, even going as far as taking a step back. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought you were radioactive. That should’ve been answer enough. “Not yet, at least.”

“Okay.” The rejection hurt, but you understood. This was hard for him, too. Maybe even harder. You had to weather the storm alone, ship-wrecked and marooned on a desolate island.

“You wanna go in alone first?”

“No.” You shook your head and pushed down the handle, suddenly feeling more courageous and determined than before.

You barged in. Not gentle. Not slow. The urge to see him, face to face within the same four walls – after all these years, after all the tears – washed over you like heavy rainfall. You didn’t want to weather the storm – you wanted to be it. It felt safer than to seek shelter under driftwood.

Then, your heartbeats halted. The world around you paused. No murmurs in the hallway, no beeping machines or bustling footsteps. It felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane, everything else flying fast around you, but the center was calm.

As you stood there, feet calcified in front of his bed, a set of familiar whiskey-colored eyes found you. The slightly furrowed brow above them softened, his lips parted in awe. He still looked the same, only slightly aged by the years and what he’d been through.

“Randy?” Your voice was a quiet tremble but still filled the entire room.

A smile flickered alive on his face. “Hey,” he said, his own voice raspy and dry as if he hadn’t had water in several days. Deserted like he had been. His hazel eyes lit up, full of love and adoration. It was the same look he had always worn when he gazed at you. For a second, it felt like nothing had changed. It saturated your frozen heart with warmth and your gray and bleak vision with technicolor.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stammered with a thick swallow.

Randy snorted a bit. “Now, you know how I always felt,” he quipped, blinking the tears in his eyes away. He’d always been a ray of sunshine. He was light and sweet and good down to his bones. A part of you had expected that light to fade, though, considering what he must’ve experienced the last few years. But it hadn’t. He was still shining as bright as ever, his spirit untouched by the darkness that had tried to swallow him. “Are you just gonna stand there like a moron?”

A small laugh escaped you as tears began to sting your eyes when he spoke those same words you once had said to him. You wanted to cry when you heard them. What sliver of doubt remained in your mind that it wasn’t truly him vanished upon his words. Your feet wanted to move forward, but your heart tugged you back.

You glanced back over your shoulder and found Beau, standing with lovelorn patience by the door as he watched the exchange between you two. The muscle in your chest then stung, like someone had dropped it into a pit full of cacti. You felt torn in two, pulled into opposite directions.

Randy followed your gaze and finally noticed his second visitor, his brow shooting up in surprise. For a second, Beau felt nervous as he awaited a reaction. He expected resentment, hatred, blame, and anger. What he got, however, was a rising smile.

“Hey, man.” Randy seemed happy to see him, not an ounce of animosity detectable. “You two realize you’re staring, right?”

“‘S good to see you, Randy,” Beau managed to say and forced a quivering smile to his lips. And it wasn’t a lie. A big part of him was elated to have his best friend, his old partner, his brother back. But he couldn’t ignore the gnashing, lethal wound in the shape of you that Randy’s return caused.

Carefully, you stepped closer and let out a nervous breath as you sat down at the edge of his bed. He reached out and tenderly caressed your cheeks, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. A smile curved his lips as soon as he touched you again. It felt like he was holding a miracle while you looked at him like he was a ghost.

“You look good, sweetheart,” he said. His hand then slid down your arm to hold yours, fingers brushing over the one. His gaze dropped when he couldn’t feel what he was looking for, the tan line of the missing item around your ring finger still visible. Pensively, he licked his lips. “They told me everyone thought I was dead.”

“Yeah, uhm, that’s kinda my fault. I’m sorry, buddy,” Beau said and swallowed harshly. The sight in front of him almost took him out. Even though it was a familiar picture, one he had seen a million times before, seeing it now was a different story. After everything he knew, you in someone else’s arms that weren’t his felt like a bullet piercing through his chest. His heart was bleeding. “I thought you got shot.”

“It’s okay. Don’t blame yourself, man. It was crazy in there. It could’ve happened to anybody. I did get shot. Only the slug went straight through the shoulder,” Randy explained. “Cartel then took me to Mexico. Juárez.”

Your wide eyes wandered to Beau, the two of you sharing a horrified look. Randy had been right underneath your noses this entire time. You could’ve saved him.

“You were in Juárez? We were there, too,” you muttered in shocked realization.

“Oh, I know,” Randy said, surprising you both. Your heart beat faster, accelerating to lightning speed and close to jumping out of your chest. Did he already know about you and his best friend? But he answered your question before you could ask it. “Cartel talked about a task force moving in on them. I overheard them once. Said my old partner and wife were looking for me. When y’all got too close, though, they moved me further south. There’s nothin’ you coulda done.”

“What did they do to you? How are you still alive?” you asked and didn’t want to sound ungrateful for it, but you were completely baffled. You had too many questions racing through your mind.

Randy chuckled a little at your line of questioning. “You’re still the same.” He smiled and tore your heart apart, because you knew you weren’t. Not really. “I think they thought they could keep me for leverage. Trade me at some point? They held me in a basement at first till they moved me south. Kept me at farm of some cartel member. It wasn’t highly guarded, but even when I had opportunity to flee, I didn’t know where I was or where to go. I thought they’d either kill me or give me back at some point, but then months… years passed. I gave up hope they’d ever let me go. And then, one night they threw a bag over my head and I woke up in some weird bunker… in Montana. Apparently. Anyone wanna explain what I’m doing here? How did you guys get here so fast? They only brought me here a few hours ago. Had to convince them a little to find and call you since they thought I was dead.”

“I was already here for a case. There’s a crazy serial killer lady who took you. That’s who locked you into that bunker,” you explained and watched his brow crease.

“Huh.”

“I work Major Crimes now. It’s a long story,” you added quickly. You didn’t even know where to start. How could you recap three years?

“Really?” His smile was back. This time, it was a proud one. “That’s good. You always wanted that.”

“Yeah.” You blushed a little and gave him a small smile in return.

He squeezed your hand, his gaze flickering to your missing ring on your finger once more. “So, uhm… since everyone thought I was dead, I guess we’re not married anymore, huh?”

Your heart exploded like he had just deposited a grenade inside of it. You averted your gaze to your joined hands. “Uh, Randy…”

“No, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he quickly soothed and chuckled to lift your worries, and you weren’t sure if it was a real smile or just one for your sake. “I’m just trying to catch up, you know? Get up to speed. ‘Sides, if we’re not married anymore, we could have a second wedding. Might be fun, right?”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you tried to smile through the pain. “Uh, yeah.” You nodded and hoped he couldn’t see your reluctance.

Randy then stretched his neck and pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a slow and chaste kiss that felt like your first. Tears of happiness mixed with sadness as they rolled down your cheeks. When Beau softly cleared his throat, you broke away from Randy, your cracked heart shattering into sharp daggers that sliced through your skin. What were you supposed to do, though? Reject the man you married because it would break the heart of the one you currently loved?

“I-, uh, I should go. Let you two catch up,” Beau said uncomfortably. The crestfallen look on his face destroyed you. “I’ll keep the press away from this for as long as I can. Lord knows they love a good back-from-the-dead story.”

“You can do that?” Randy arched a curious brow.

Beau pulled his jacket back a little and tapped the badge on his belt. “Kinda the sheriff here.”

“Wow, congrats, man. You deserve it,” Randy said with a genuinely happy grin. He seemed like a kid who was catching up with all his friends on the first day of school after summer break.

Beau gave him a tight smile that said he didn’t think he deserved it. But only you could read that one. “Uhm, thanks, bud. I see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Beau, wait–”

But he had rushed out of that room so fast, he couldn’t even hear you as the door fell shut behind him. You offered Randy the same tight-lipped smile and stroked his cheek. Your emotions were a mangled mess. A part of you was hauled back to the past, old feelings that you had buried deep coming back alive, while new ones reminded you that it wasn’t the same anymore.

“Give me a sec, okay? I’ll go talk to your doctor. See when we can get you outta here,” you said and waited for Randy’s nod of confirmation before you darted out of the room.

Your heart thrummed in your ribcage as you raced down the hospital’s corridors all the way to the parking lot where you finally caught up with Beau. He was on a fast-paced escape to his car before he stopped when you called his name.

“Beau, wait!”

As he spun around, he dragged a palm over his face in an attempt to wipe away the tears. But the evidence was still visible, his eyes red and distraught. “You should go back, Y/N. He needs you.”

The heart in your throat caused you to choke. “So do you. I’m so sorry,” you said, sniffling as tears flowed down your cheeks. But as you stepped forward to hold him, he took a step back.

“It’s okay. I get it. Trust me. I do. He’s your husband, and I’m just… Well, I’m nothin’,” he said, his voice laden with heartbreak. “Just don’t come closer, ‘cause if you do, I don’t know if I can hold myself back, alright? ‘Cause all I wanna do right now is kiss you and love you, even it’s the last time. I can’t do that to him. You understand?”

Everything in you wanted to break through the fence he had set up, full-throttle with a lead foot on the gas, but you thought it was best to respect his wishes for now. You didn’t even know where your head was and wanted to avoid hurting him more.

“Here, uhm, you should have this back.” He fished out your wedding ring from his back pocket and dropped it into your palm, the quick brush of his skin tearing you apart even more. The golden band suddenly felt heavier than it ever had. You didn’t even know when he had grabbed it from his desk drawer, but the foresight scared you. He let out a humorless chuckle as the sadness brimmed in his green eyes. “Not the ring I thought I’d give you…”

Your lips parted, your brow lifting in realization. Whatever dusted remnants were left of your heart plummeted. “Beau…”

“Don’t. ‘S okay,” he wrung out with a doleful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Call if you need somethin’.”

With a passive nod, he jumped into his Jeep. You clutched the ring in your hand so tightly it almost burned through your skin as you watched him drive off.

Beau uncapped his third beer of the night (plus two tumblers of whiskey and a shot of his old friend Don Julio) as he sat on the bed in his trailer. A pile of your clothes still lay on the floor to his right, your favorite coffee mug stood in the kitchen sink, and your shampoo was stored in the shower. It felt like you hadn’t left, even though you had.

He replayed the clips of the hospital in his mind over and over again. How Randy held your hand. How he touched your cheek. How he kissed you. How he looked at you when he first saw you – like he had finally found the piece of his heart again that he lost years ago, the same love in his brown eyes that had been there since day one. And Beau understood, because he had felt the same way once, too, when you walked into his office – back into his life.

He told himself it was the torture he deserved for all of his sins. And he swallowed it all down – the hurt, the heartbreak, the jealousy, the possessiveness. He had no right to feel those things. Not anymore. You weren’t his. You never were.

How long did he have with you this time around? Five weeks?

Suddenly, he regretted leaving Houston, regretted leaving you. He wasted a whole year that he could’ve spent loving you. He always thought, in the end, he'd have more time. Eternity, even. How fucking foolish was that?

The headlights and sounds of a car in front of his home drew his attention to the window, shadows and lights dancing along the walls of his trailer. He couldn’t see his visitor, but considering it was in the middle of the night, he assumed it was either Jenny or Cassie checking up on him. He had texted them to let them know what was going on. But as he opened the door, the sight left him speechless.

“Y/N…” Your name fell from his lips like you were an angel he had prayed for. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were seeing things right, or if you were a booze- and depression-induced hallucination. You wouldn’t be the first ghost that came back to haunt him, after all.

“You ain’t nothing.”

With those words still floating in the night air, you cupped his neck and crashed your lips against his, kissing him fervently with everything you had as tears streamed down your cheeks. He returned the kiss just as passionately, although you could feel a part of him fighting against it. But his large hands grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, the kiss lasting till both of you were bluer than the sky. You didn’t let go of him, though, hands holding onto his shirt, too scared he would slip through the cracks of your fingers if you did.

“Y/N, I can’t…”

“I love you,” you interjected his hesitance with firmness and gripped him tighter, your gaze drilling into him like you hoped your words would. “You think I’d just forget? You think my feelings for you just vanish into thin air? It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just snap my fingers and stop loving you. I can't go back to the way things were. I know you think me and Randy are some great love story, but so are you and I. Look, when he died, I grieved that loss and it felt like I was dying, too. I never thought life would be... exciting... and fun... and happy... and so full of love again. And then… I-I fell in love with you, and my life somehow started again. And I know this whole situation is fucked up and confusing and impossible. And I don’t know what to do… I don't know what the right thing is here. But I do know you feel right, and I can’t just pretend you and me and everything good that came with it never existed. I don’t want to. Please, just… I need you, Beau. You said you wouldn't leave again. You're not making things better by walking away...”

With a stretch of your toes, your nose grazed his before you gently claimed his plump, soft lips once more. Your tear-stained cheeks met the roughness of his beard. The kiss started ginger and careful, giving him time to withdraw if he wanted to. But he didn’t. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and stoked the flames of the fire that burned for him deep within your soul. Inhibitions were set ablaze as the kiss turned searing. He hoisted you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his middle as he carried you inside.

The trailer’s peaceful silence was disturbed by panting breaths, a pathway of clothes leading from the entrance to the bed. You peeled off his shirt, and he slid off yours over your head. You unclasped your bra and tore it off, pressing your tits against his bare chest as your lips tried to remain connected to each other through it all. By the time he sat down on the edge of the mattress with you on top, only two naked bodies seeking friction remained.

You wanted to feel him everywhere, wanted him to fill you and make you whole again until you stopped feeling like you were breaking apart at the seams. Hands roamed and explored as tongues mingled and savored tastes. As you straddled his muscular thighs, his arms wound around your middle and kept you firmly pressed against him, his hold on you strong as his fingers dented your flesh. You hoped it was enough to leave bruises behind. You never wanted to forget him, wishing his marks would be permanent ink on your skin.

“I need you,” you murmured against his thoroughly kiss-swollen lips, his cock rubbing against your soaking core as you gently rocked your hips.

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips. One hand steadied itself on his broad shoulder as your other one fisted his hard, throbbing length and positioned it at your entrance, his cockhead gliding through your slick and teasing you till you shuddered with wanton need to feel him inside of you.

“I love you,” you whispered and gasped as you sank down, sheathing his thick cock in your warmth as your velvety walls welcomed him. With a needy and yet tender kiss, you soothed his grunt when he was fully inside you and prodded at your cervix. “Wanna make you feel good, okay?”

He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t do this to me if you’re gonna leave,” he pleaded, his gravelly voice laced with desperation and pain. His hand softly caressed your face as he rested his forehead against yours. His love for you radiated in his green eyes like kryptonite.

You cupped his bearded cheeks and forced him to look at you, lifting his chin to find your eyes. “I’m not leaving you, okay?”

“But–”

You kissed him before he could bring forth all the reasons why you should, but you didn’t care. Your heart was the North Star, and your heart had led you to him. When you left the hospital, there was nowhere else you wanted to go, no one you wanted to see more. Your heart had only ached for him.

You were finally home, and now that you were back in the arms where you belonged, you kissed him so hard till his mind quieted down to a soft lullaby. You kissed him so hungrily till his cock twitched inside of you because you were the only one he wanted, too. You kissed him so passionately he felt your love for him seep into his own heart.

As you began to roll your hips, he met you thrust by thrust as he pounded up into you. His massive hands and sinful mouth roamed every inch of your body. Palms groped your tits and fingers tickled your spine. Lips kissed your throat and tongue massaged your nipples. Teeth grazed your flesh and beard burned your skin.

Your nails dug into the thick muscles on his shoulders and scraped his scalp as his cock split you open with each pump. His girth tore you apart, each time you eased back down a new pleasurable burn coursing through you as your walls stretched to accommodate all of him.

Your pace rose with the tides of your hips, your thighs flexing as your cunt stroked his cock and came closer to the finish line. Beau buried his head in the crook of your neck, writhing and groaning underneath you. His fingers bit into your flesh, surely leaving bruises behind this time. Your tits rubbed against his chest, and you could feel his muscles tensing and straining underneath your fingertips with each bounce. He was barely holding on.

“Come for me, baby,” you beckoned him, feeling your own orgasm approach. The fuse was sparked and burned a path right to your explosive core. “I love you…”

“Fuck!” Beau cried out and spilled into you, his body trembling in your grasp. Those words were all it took to tip him over the edge.

You came with a thundering moan. His release triggered your own, your pussy pulsing violently around him and milking his cock for all he’d got. His cum mixed with your arousal and gushed out of you, trickling down your thighs and coating even his balls. Your thighs shook with exhaustion as you let yourself fall down on him, his arms catching you and holding you close.

Still panting, his mouth found yours in the dark. His thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks, the rest of his fingers dangling in your hair, the grip soft turned bruising as he kept you lip-tied to him, the kiss tender turned rough.

His nose brushed yours as he looked deeply at you. You could see the despair drowning in his pine green eyes, his emotions overtaking him.

“Pick me. Don’t go,” he begged in a harsh whisper, your flushed face in his warm palms.

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, corazón.”

Chapter 10: It Matters

Phew, writing that hospital scene nearly killed me 😮‍💨 Next up, we have even more drama as the awkward throuple reaches a boiling point...

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[peekawoocc]

LAW X READER

CW - 18+, smut, really long fanfiction. Lots of words, went too big brain mode on this.

P.s. I noted the sections where smut was in case you just wanted the juicy parts (relatable). Also, I tried to stay with plot similar to the show, so spoiler warnings if you haven't started Wano yet. I literally just started it.

This was really fun to write and definitely was a full day hobby project because I have no self control or concept of taking breaks 🙃

Pretenses - You're a straw hat, and while you're not as strong as the monster trio, you can definitely hold your own and then some if nessacary.

Cockblocked in Wano

You had just arrived in Wano with Nami and the others. Finally, ready to be reunited with everyone, and secretly excited to see Law again.

After running into Luffy, you all made your way into the old ruins to gather an update from Kinemon. After being caught up, Kinemon began giving instruction to everyone about their role. You were the last to receive your instructions.

You were excited to find out what you could contribute to help everyone. Instead, you felt as if your eyes were going to pop out from how wide they became, in complete shock. T-there's no way, you told yourself.

Everyone continued on with doing as Kinemon said so he could provide the proper outfits for each role. You didn't even seem to notice your clothes become a blue floral kimono and your hair now in a bun being held by a beautiful hair pin. You were kind of dissapointed you didn't have a more important task, but the shock was still there. As you came back to reality, it seemed like everyone was already trying to head outside, until you spoke up.

"Wait, why don't I have my own role?"

"My apologies, y/n, I did not have another role in mind. I felt it was best to put you with someone to provide assistance in gathering the nessacary troops," Kinemon answered.

Law came back into the ruins to fetch you, making everything set in completely. I have to be with Law for a whole 2 weeks and pretend to be his wife!?! Noticing the blush spread across your face as you were drowning in your own thoughts, Law caught your focus with a sigh.

"If you don't want to, that's fine, I'm sure you'd rather be partnered with one of your own crewmates," he said, sounding a bit annoyed at the inconvenience.

"N-no, it's fine. Plus, I know you won't bring me more trouble than I bargained for. You think things through so I know I can rely on you if anything happens,". You wanted to say more, but seeing Laws lips turn into a slight smirk you thought it better to just stop talking. It was true though. As much as you appreciated the spontaneous nature of your captain and fellow crewmates, you felt most confident when you had more details and facts to rely on. Knowing your enemy and even your environment can help end a fight more quickly and more efficiently. Or maybe, just maybe, you had anxiety. Which is also perfectly understandable.

"Then shall we be off...y/n?" Law said after finally coming up with a fake name for you.

"Definitely!" You said with appreciation for his thoughtfulness. You had a feeling he was always going to be a few steps ahead of you, as per usual. You both followed the others outside.

And then everything went to hell in a hand basket.

You all started to notice something flying, fast. The huge mass had a very commanding presence.

Yep, that's Kaido.

*time skip to after Luffy and Law dissappear after Kaido*

You had no idea where your partner in crime was, nor your captain. You knew Luffy could hold his own, it was Law you weren't sure about. Rather than go hunting for them, you all decided to go into your roles. Not really sure where to go, you decided to follow Sanji, knowing he wouldn't find you to be a burden. It wasn't that you couldn't hold your own, you were actually quite powerful. However, your task was simply to assist with passing out flyers to future fellow fighters, so you followed the cook in putting up a soba stall.

"I'm so glad I get to spend some alone time with you, y/n~," Sanji said with hearts for eyes.

"Yeah, I guess it's more efficient than trying to hunt down Law right now," you said, not being able to hide the dissapointment in your voice. Sanji noticed the worry on your face, even if he was a little jealous of your attention being focused on another man, he was still your friend and wanted to be there for you.

"You sure you're ok with this?" He asked, trying to help shoulder your troubles.

"Yeah, I just hope he's ok. Not that he's not powerful. Anyway, let's get to work!" You said, deciding to distract yourself with the task at hand.

*time skip to Law showing up*

It had become dark now, and you sat down next to the stall as Sanji began cleaning up from the hard day of cooking he just had. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned your head towards over your shoulder and looked up.

"So there's my partner, was wondering where you went," he said with a smirk, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

"That should be my line!" You giggle as relief washes over your face.

"No time to chat, we've gotta go. Sanji, they're looking for you," Law suddenly became extremely serious.

"Who is?" Sanji asked.

"Kaidos men, we'll walk and talk," Law answered.

As you all moved together, you ran into Usopp and Franky. Law filled them in on the details and became interrupted as you saw a building get thrown into the air.

*time skip to when they get to Ebisu town, where Zoro supposedly was*

As you all sat together in the tiny home, you had a huge grin on your face. Who would've thought that the man next to you, who was so intelligent and strict, was also a huge nerd? You began to giggle thinking back to how excited Law was about Sanji's germa raid suit. Thinking about how Law was completely nerding out like a fan boy with a deadpan expression on his face started to make you giggle more. Law noticed how you began to hold your stomach from how hard you were laughing, and he began to raise an eyebrow at you.

"Whats got you giggling so much, sister?" Franky asked, matching Law's confusion.

"I was just thinking about how Law knew so much about the Sora Comics," you began giggling hysterically again, Franky and Usopp joining in your amusement.

Law instantly became flustered.

"I TOLD YOU ALREADY, THEY WERE POPULAR IN THE NORTH BLUE! EVERYONE WAS READING THEM!"

"I know, I know. It's just really cute when you nerd out like that. Plus, it's good to know I wasn't the only one who hated germa in the comics,".

Law started malfunctioning when you called his nerdiness "cute". With his whole face red he got up and stormed out of the house, making the excuse of needing fresh air. You gave him 3 minutes before you decided to follow his lead.

*sexy build up*

He was sitting, legs crossed, upon a freshly dusted off mat on the ground. You walked up behind him and placed your hand on his shoulder as you sat down beside him. With his eyes closed and brows furrowed, it looked like there was still a blush across his cheeks but you couldn't tell with it being so dark out.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, but you really were cute. I'm also glad to know we share a similar interest," you said cheerfully, trying to bring the mood back up. Cute. There it was again. He looked like he wanted to say something, then began stammering until he just gave up and sighed. Finally opening his eyes, he just stared straight ahead as if he was trying to puzzle his thoughts together.

"It makes me happy to get the opportunity to know more about you. Really makes the mysterious, cunning Surgeon of Death even more attractive than you already were," you brought a hand to your mouth, shocking both you and Law at the realization of what you had just said. Then his face began to soften as he turned his gaze to you. He ended up letting out a small chuckle at seeing you sitting there as if still frozen with shock. The sound of the low chuckle broke you out of your trance and you began to relax, thankful that he didn't look at you with disgust after finding out your true thoughts of him.

"Attractive, huh?" He said in a knowing tone, a smirk on his face as you started tripping over your words.

"U-uh...um...yeah,"

"Likewise,"

"Wait, huh?"

"You're pretty attractive as well," he looked away for a moment before looking back at you.

"I thought so when we first met, but didn't think much of it. After getting to know you in Dressrosa, the feeling grew. What about you?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, it's the same with me. At first I thought you seemed kinda scary back in Sabaody,".

Locking eyes with you now, it seemed like he was asking for permission for something. Noticing the puzzling expression he had, you felt the need to reassure him with a smile. However, you still felt the need to properly explain yourself.

"I-i mean, I don't find you scary anymore. Actually, thinking back, I think it was more of a feeling of intimidation. I wasn't that strong back then either, so the thought of ever having to hold my own against you was a bit anxiety inducing-,".

Before you could keep rambling, he cut you off with a soft kiss. It wasn't that long, but it felt like time had stopped and nothing in the world mattered but him. Your mind completely blank, you felt the tension in your shoulders release and the dull ache of pain that came with it. It seems you had been on edge the whole time, which looking back isn't all that surprising considering the bottled up feelings you had for him. No one knew, because you were too scared to tell anyone. Especially since you weren't sure in the beginning, but now, you're more sure of this than anything else.

As he pulled away, seemingly reluctantly, he locked eyes with you again and happily matched your smile with his own signature smirk but there was something new that you'd never seen before. There was a light in his eyes. You only saw them light up with anger in the heat of battle. This was the first time you felt that you were witnessing Law looking truly happy. Any of the questions bubbling up in your head about What are we? or Am I going to be a Heart Pirate now? were suddenly pushed aside with the new details you were taking note of while looking at his handsome face.

"That was amazing," you said dreamily, you wanted to slap yourself out of embarrassment with how hypnotized you knew you had looked.

"We should do it again sometime," he said with a flirty tone.

You instantly pressed your Thighs together. They weren't that open, but the sexiness of his voice was doing things to you below the waist. Suddenly, you were feeling a bit brave.

*sexy time ensues*

"How about...now?" You asked shyly, expecting him to refuse. He looked at you for a moment as you watched as his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed, hard. He leaned back into you, just barely away from your lips, awaiting for your physical invitation. As you leaned in closer, the kiss had started again. It started slow and became more needy and feverish. He licked your top lip, asking to deepen the kiss, and you allowed it. You then wrapped your arms around his shoulders, lifting yourself up to sit in his lap. You pressed your chest against his, causing him to lean back on one of his arms, which made his hat fall off as he tilted his head back. He broke the kiss, both of you panting for air as you looked into eachothers eyes. His expression hungry and predatory now. You started trailing your eyes down his face to his neck and they stayed there as you subconsciously bit your bottom lip. You decided to stop wasting time looking and decided to give in to your desire as your lips met the side of his neck. Kissing his neck until you found a comfortable spot to sit for a moment as you lightly sucked and bit the spot. You weren't there for more than a few moments, thinking it wouldn't be a good idea to mark him no matter how badly you wanted to. He sucked in his breath, head falling back more as you went a little lower to his collarbone. You kissed and sucked at the defined bone structure until you heard a hushed groan.

"There, you can leave a mark there,".

It was as if he had known what you were wanting to do to him. You hovered for a moment, admiring the rise and fall of his chest in the moonlight. As much as you'd like to see more of his exposed skin, you'd have to settle for the portion of his chest that was seeable thanks to his sluttily open kimono. Law let out a frustrated groan as he became impatient, having no idea that you were actually admiring him, he grabbed a handful of your ass with his free hand. You pushed him back onto the mat, forcing him to lay down. You looked down at him, which allowed him to drink up the view of you on top of him, outlined in light blue moonlight. He sucked in his breathe as you dove your head back towards his neck, going back to his collarbone to finish what you started. You kissed, sucked, and then sank your teeth into him. You deeply sucked on the small bite mark, making it viewable even in the darkness of the night. You went back to being face to face with him, wanting another makeout session. Just when you were only seconds away from having your lips on his, you hear a voice from inside the house.

*PAUSE THE SEXY MUSIC! We got cockblocked guys 😔*

"Uh, where's Sangoro?" Usopps voice said.

"Didn't he say something about spying on girls in the bath house?" Franky continued.

Shit.

You hadn't thought about it until now, but you realize you don't remember him being in the house with you all before you and Law started sharing this moment.

After realizing your lack of acknowledgement of your missing crewmate, you sat up and face palmed yourself.

"Damn straw hats, I swear," Law said annoyed. It was clear he was sexually frustrated about being cockblocked due to Sanji's pervertedness.

"Sorry," you offered a dissapointed smile to Law, begging for forgiveness. How could you overlook a missing crewmate?

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault," he said reassuringly, "I didn't notice he was gone either. Not that I'm mad he's gone. I didn't like the idea of you being all alone with that pervert," he sat up and crossed his arms. With furrowed brows he released another frustrated sigh and grabbed his hat.

"Hang on just a moment. Wait right here for me please," you say, clearly scheming something. Before Law can protest, you stand up above him and walk towards the frantic house. Law watched as you walked towards the house, then down at himself. His once hard erection beginning to lose blood flow due to his annoyance for Sanji. I am so going to go after you first if we become enemies, Sanji, he thinks to himself. He sits still and waits, just like you told him, and starts listening to your crews conversation from in the house.

"Franosuke, Usohachi, why don't you guys go look for Sangoro at the bathhouse nearby, while Law and I stay here in case he comes back?" you asked with a confident smile, knowing they're going to think that's a good idea on your part. Until Usopp opens his mouth.

"Wait, why do you and Law get to relax here? What if that t rex guy shows back up? That's not fair! You just want to be alone with him!" Usopp was unfortunately right on the money, but you were prepared for this due to his squeamish nature.

"Mr.Yasuie? Are the bathhouses in this country seperated or mixed?" You ask, already sure you know the answer.

"Some are seperate, but most are mixed. The closest one here is mixed. I wouldn't recommend you go though, y/n, ma'am. Most of the women around here don't have as many curves as you do, wouldn't want those men getting their hands on a pretty thing like you," he said smiling all the while.

You smiled triumphantly, but this battle wasn't over yet.

"Why can't Law go, you can protect yourself!" Usopp once again protests.

"Because, it's a bathhouse. Law has his jolly Roger tattooed all over himself. Even if this is Wano, they know what pirates are. And Laws jolly Roger looks nothing like Kaido's. That'd bring unnecessary attention to all of us," you argue back, you start to think up another excuse until you see Usopps face become skeptical, the debating lawyer look now faded from his face and voice. Bingo! We have a winner.

"Oh, ok. That actually makes sense since we're trying to lay low," Usopp says as Franky nods in agreement.

"You sure it's ok for us to split up again?" Franky asks, still needing a little push to be convinced.

"Yeah, you guys are strong enough to hold your own if the enemy shows up. Even moreso if you can find Sanjiii-I mean, Sangoro. In the case you do get captured, it wouldn't be good if they caught all 5 of us at once," you say, hoping you just put the final nail in the coffin.

And with that, they started to head off.

"Ok, we're going, but call me on the snail if anything happens or if Sangoro comes back,"

"I will,"

"Oh, one more thing," Usopp leans in to whisper to you, "Don't let nerd alert make you fall for him. He's been eyeing you up ever since we left that dinosaur in the dust. If he tries anything funny, use this,".

Usopp hands you 2 little red seeds.

"What's this?"

"They're puff puff plants. They release a red mist and if it touches your face it feels like it's burning your face off-"

"Nope" you say as you shove them back into his hand.

"But what if he tries something? What if he hurts you?"

"Usohachi, as much as I appreciate you looking out for me, we both know I can hold my own. Plus, I trust him," you say reassuringly.

"You trust him? Well I guess I can hang that 'don't fall for him' mess up. It's too late, you've already been infected," he shrugged.

"Alright, when he gives your heart over to the navy to become a warlord again, I don't wanna hear it," he said crossing his arms.

"Hey, he needs this alliance just as much as we do. And don't worry, if he does give my heart to the navy, I won't complain. Won't have anyone to blame but myself, so I won't cry to you about it,"

"YEAH, BECAUSE YOU'LL BE DEAD!" Usopp yelled as he and Franky exited the house. You made sure to flip him off before turning to Franky.

"Good luck Franosuke! Come back safe!" You waved as they went off into the night.

"Well miss y/n, I'll be retiring for the night. I'm sorry I can't offer you any nice places to sleep or any blankets, I only have one and I'm skin and bones!" Yasuie laughed.

"That's ok, we'll come back inside and sleep on the floor if you don't mind,"

"Not at all, goodnight!" He said as he walked to his room and closed the door behind him.

*sexy part resumes*

You jogged back to where Law was waiting patiently, feeling horrible for how long it took to convince Usopp to leave.

As you walked up to him, he looked peaceful. With his arms under his head, back to the large mat on the ground, eyes looking at the stars. You got closer and noticed that his hat was off again as you laid down next to him. You looked up at the night sky with him for a moment until you decided to speak.

"Sorry about taking so long. I didn't expect to play lawyer with Usopp,"

"It's ok, and I get why he's worried. I'm not a very open personality like most people,"

"That's another quality I like about you, just makes me want to know more,"

"I will say though, I didn't get why he thinks I'd betray you,"

"Me either, after all you told Luffy you wouldn't. Not that I wasn't skeptical at first, but I've learned that you're always honest,"

He glanced over at you gazing at the sky. He didn't expect to be this comfortable around you. This feels almost foreign to him. There was only one other person he remembered being alone with like this and that was a long time ago and in a different sense. He snapped out of his memories as he sees you suddenly shiver.

"Cold?"

"It is a little chilly," you say as you look back at him. Before you can take your eyes off of him, he's getting up and above you. Pinning you as he puts his hands on the ground. He looks into your eyes seeing a reflection of both himself and the starry sky.

"Figured I could be a gentleman and warm you up," he says.

Damn. There it is again. That sultry voice.

You begin to brace yourself off the ground and up into him, but he swoops down to kiss you before the thought becomes an action. It feels like a do over from earlier. Kiss starting slow and then burning into something more again. However, you don't plan to hesitate this time. It was even later into the night, around 2 a.m. now. Everyone in the village would definitely be asleep. He starts trailing down from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck. You suppose that now it was his turn to leave a mark, and he wastes no time doing so. As he makes work of your neck, making it sting so sweetly, one of his hands trails down to the bottom opening of your kimono, sliding his hand up the side of your thigh. He moves to another part of your neck to make yet another mark and moves his hand up to your hip, unintentionally loosening the bow of your kimono and giving him more of your skin to feel. He stops for a moment, hovering over you, he removes his hand from your hip. You whine in frustration at the loss of contact. He let's out a low chuckle as he moves to look down at you.

"How far do you want to take this, y/n?" He asks looking down at you carefully to read your expressions. You shot him a lustful and longing look and before he could start to say "Use your words,", you bucked your hips up in the air to meet his. You let out a quiet moan, never breaking eye contact as you felt his need to be inside you. That made something in him snap into his own desire. The once careful and cautious look of furrowed brows and frowning, now a dangerous smirk with half lidded glazed over eyes. He kept eye contact with you as he lowered his bottom half onto you, grinding against where you needed him most. As he began biting his lip, he slipped one hand under one of your knees to spread your legs out for him, trying to get as much friction as possible. You put a hand over your mouth, not trying to wake up any neighbors with your feverish cries. He stops for a moment, somehow regaining his senses enough to look around and really make sure no one was out and about. Once he makes sure the coast is clear, he takes an extra precaution.

"Room,".

A blue filter surrounded the 2 of you. He wanted to make sure that if someone were to walk upon you 2, that it wouldn't cause another interruption. He couldn't handle stopping now.

"Law, what're you-aaa," you cut yourself off with a moan as Law brought 2 fingers to your entrance and his thumb to your sensitive bud. And he gave a devilish smirk as he realized just how wet you were for him. All for him.

"I wanted to make sure there were no more interruptions like the perverted cook situation," he whispered into your ear as he slowly inserted his fingers into you. Once he was in he began curling his fingers to hit your sweet spot as he rubbed small circles into your clit. You involuntarily bucked your hips to met his rhythm as he started working on you. He contemplates biting and sucking on your ear, but your moans made it evident you needed help with muffling them out, so he kisses you. And he kisses you more desperately then before. He has quite a way of surprising you. It's almost as if he's been planning this moment for a while, taking mental notes on what to do if the moment ever came. He was thoughtful and strategic like that, which made him even hotter.

As he removes his lips from yours, he takes his fingers away at the same time. Denying you the pleasure of having one sensation without the other at the moment. Then he finally opens his kimono, making quick work of stripping his undergarments. You decide to follow his lead, opening the front of the light blue clothing. Before you can remove your panties, he's already doing it. He takes a moment to appreciate the feast in front of him, feeding his eyes at your bare flesh, noticing every freckle, scar, birthmark, all of it. He loves all of you even more than he already did. It felt like the final puzzle piece falling into place. And it was everything he wanted and more still. You were just as transfixed as he was. Studying every single detail of his tattoos as you could. How godly he looked, bare and bathed in moonlight.

"Hey, don't tell me I've bewitched you or sometheing" Law said jokingly, but there was enough worry in his voice to tell you you've been spaced out for a little too long.

"Hmm...what...uh yeah, I-I mean no...sorry," you were tripping and fumbling over your words, trying desperately to form coherent words and sentences.

He looked at you with a smile that was a mixture of the pride in the fact that he had made you a mumbling mess and of how much he adored how cute you were.

"Law,"

"Yes? Able to speak now?"

You nodded, a little embarrassed for feeling so dumbfounded under this extraordinarily intelligent man.

"What is it, y/n?"

"I need you,".

He let out another low chuckle and pressed his chest against yours. He then had his lips next to your ear as he dangerously spoke.

"Tell me how badly you need me, y/n," he said has he lined himself up with your entrance. You practically feel that he was smirking without even looking at him.

"F-fuck, I need you in every conceivable way possible," you whimpered, hoping desperately that he had heard you quiet plea. And oh, he definitely did.

He slowly sheathed himself within you, taking the opportunity to hear every lewd noise you let out as you felt him become one with you. His pace started slow, controlled, but it seemed as time went by he felt more and more the need to lose himself within you. All the bottled up feelings that had been bubbling up between you was being taken out on your body with every rhythmic thrust, becoming quicker and more aggressive by the second. He made sure to keep rubbing circles into your clit, wanting to make sure you enjoyed every second of this. That was the only consistent controlled place of motion he kept on you as he gave in to the rolling of his hips and need to make you his. The louder you got, the more it sounded like praise to his ears. Paying attention to both of your needs as he listened to every beautiful sound you made under him. Once you started to sound a bit too loud, he crashed his lips to yours. He knew that if someone were to show up that he wouldn't have the energy to stop anymore. The coil in your stomach was tightening, you were almost there. You were about to speak up about it, but Laws mouth was still on yours. So, you let your body tell him instead. Walls tightening around him as he gasps, thrusting through every wave of your high until he reaches his own. He looks at you, a bewildering questioning look on his face, sweaty and flush.

"Cum in me," you say, and he does so.

Once he finally catches his breath, he slowly pulls out of you and plops down beside you on his side. He lifts his head to look at the mess he made of your lower half and it's quite a sight. Almost enough to make him want a second round, but quickly dismisses the thought when he looks back at your face. Your eyes are closed, lips slightly parted as you're still trying to get your breathing under control.

"Sorry for dirtying your kimono," he giggles proudly, pressing a kiss to your temple. He's never been more sure of anything in his life as much as he is about you right now.

"If you really feel guilty about it, buy me a new one," you smile at him, eyes dreamily again.

"I don't feel guilty in the slightest about any of this," he smirks.

You giggle as you turn towards him and kiss him, your body shudders, breaking the kiss.

"Whats wrong, is it difficult to move?" He becomes worried so quickly you'd think his personality switched.

"U-Uh, no. Just...um...we should definitely look for a way to clean me up. Kind pouring out like a faucet down there," you say shyly.

He follows your gaze as you open your legs, revealing quite the mess. If the kimono wasn't dirty a moment ago, it definitely was now.

Luckily he had another kimono packed in his bag, he used shambles to get you both inside, switching your bodies with the 2 seeds Usopp had left on the table even after you refused to take them.

He cleaned you both up with a small water bottle of clean water that he had kept secret and a rag from his bag and gave you his second kimono. Of course, it had his jolly Roger on it, and you knew Usopp was going to give you hell when they got back.

[msklassickilla]

Delirious | J. Uso|R. Reigns Ten

Summary: When Titania buys an old typewriter from a closing thrift store, she thinks it’s just a vintage gem—until the words she types start coming true. However, the typewriter doesn’t just bring fantasies to life—it twists them. Giving Titania way more than she bargained for.

Pairing: Titania Marshall (Black OC) x Jey Uso x Roman Reigns

Author’s Note: This story is another AU thing. So, it might align, or it might not. I will try my best to keep it current enough. Nonetheless, it’s mash up of a few things: That one episode of Goosebumps. That one episode of the Twilight Zone. And that movie by the same title, Delirious featuring John Candy. I’ma make it work. Plus, I like mystical spooky shit with a bit of Jerry Springer type mess.

Warning(s): SMUT incoming. Some minor harsh language. A smidge of toxic behavior.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Ten

Titania sat on the couch, staring at the muted television, barely registering the flickering images on the screen. The house was quiet now. Jey had left for the airport that morning, kissing her goodbye with his usual warmth, promising to call her later. It was supposed to be comforting, knowing she had a few days to herself, a chance to clear her mind. Instead, she felt untethered.

There were only two weeks left until the move. Two weeks until she packed up everything and left behind the life she had built before all of this. Before Jey. Before the typewriter. Before everything shifted. She should be excited. She had written this future. She had wanted it.

Then why did she feel like she was walking into something she couldn’t escape?

Titania leaned forward, rubbing her temples. She just needed to shake it off. Find a routine. Get back to the version of herself that existed before she started rewriting everything. Maybe she’d go out today. Get some fresh air. Do something normal.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced down, expecting Jey or Naomi, but the name on the screen made her stomach clench.

Tamya (FaceTime Call)

Titania exhaled sharply, guilt curling tight in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to her sister in weeks. The last time they talked was before she bought the typewriter, before her entire world rearranged itself into something unrecognizable. She had been avoiding her, just like she had been avoiding her parents.

But Tamya wasn’t like their mother and father. Their parents would be disappointed, but Tamya would be mad as this wasn’t like her at all. Titania forced herself to answer. The moment her sister���s face filled the screen, she knew she had been right.

"Girl," Tamya’s voice was sharp, her expression pinched with irritation. "Why am I hearing from Mia that you’re moving to Florida? Is this what we doing now? Keeping secrets?"

Titania’s stomach dropped.

She should have known Mia would say something. Her best friend had always been loose-lipped, but Titania had rewrote things, made her someone who believed in their relationship. It hadn’t occurred to her that Mia hadn’t been rewritten enough to keep secrets.

Titania scrambled for an excuse. "I—I wanted to tell you myself."

Tamya’s eyes narrowed. "And when exactly were you gonna do that? After you moved? What the hell is going on with you? This ain’t like you."

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Titania lied, though she could hear how weak it sounded.

"A surprise?" Tamya’s brows shot up. "Titania, this is your whole damn life! You don’t make decisions like this without telling your family especially me.”

Titania swallowed, feeling the heat of shame spread up her neck.

"You never kept secrets from me, T," Tamya continued, her voice softer now, but no less firm. "Not even from Mom and Dad, but especially not from me. You always told me everything."

Titania’s throat tightened. She knew Tamya was right. Before Jey, before the typewriter, before all of this, she had always confided in her big sister. Tamya was the person she trusted the most, the one who knew her better than anyone.

But what could she even say?

That she had written herself into a different life? That she was losing track of what was real and what wasn’t? That she was terrified of what was to come because things hadn’t really been working out in the way she wanted but she didn’t know how to fix it.

She couldn’t say any of that.

"I just didn’t want to deal with everyone freaking out," Titania said, grasping for anything that might calm her sister down.

Tamya’s expression remained unreadable for a moment before she sighed, shaking her head. "Mama and Daddy are gonna lose it when they find out. And I swear, T, if you think you’re gonna blindside them with this, you got another thing coming."

Titania’s pulse spiked. "You’re not gonna tell them, are you?"

Tamya folded her arms, studying her carefully. "With the way you been moving? I should."

"Tamya, please," Titania whispered. "I’ll tell them soon. Just… not yet. I still got things to get in order."

Her sister exhaled, tapping her nails against her arm before nodding. "Fine. For now. But you need to get your shit together." Her voice softened again, worry replacing the irritation. "This isn’t like you. Not calling, keeping secrets, making huge life changes out of nowhere. Something’s not right with you, T."

Titania’s chest tightened.

Tamya didn’t know how true that was.

"I’m fine," she lied.

Tamya didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press. She just sighed again. "Just… don’t forget who you are, okay?"

Titania forced a small smile. "I won’t."

Tamya gave her one last long look before hanging up. The screen went dark, leaving Titania staring at her own dim reflection. She set the phone down slowly, pressing her fingers against her temples.

Her sister was right.

She wasn’t herself anymore.

Before Jey, before the typewriter, she had been Titania Marshall. Daughter of Teedria and Gary Marshall. Little sister to Tamya and Kenneth Marshall.

So why did she feel like that person was slipping away?

Her gaze flickered toward the spare room, where the typewriter sat packed away in its box. The thought creeped in before she could stop it. Maybe she didn’t have to lose herself. Maybe she could just… adjust a few things.

Titania shoved the thought away, shaking her head. No. She wasn’t doing that again.

She just needed to figure out how to get back to being who she was without losing Jey in the process. Without letting Roman pull her into something she didn’t understand. Without making things worse.

----

Titania tried to fall back into her normal routine, but normal didn’t exist anymore. She went through the motions—waking up, making coffee, checking emails, answering a few messages—but nothing felt the same. Nothing felt like hers.

Her phone was constantly lighting up. Jey sending her videos from the gym, sweaty and grinning like he wasn’t thousands of miles away. Naomi checking in, reminding her how excited she was for Titania to move down. It was all sweet, thoughtful—everything she could’ve wanted.

But the more she saw those messages, the more she realized her old life was slipping away.

She wanted both.

Her old life. Her new life. The independence she had before. The love she had now. But could she even have both?

The thought made her chest feel tight, her stomach twisting with something restless. She needed to get out of her own head. Needed to do something.

Her phone buzzed beside her. A FaceTime call.

Jey.

Titania exhaled, grabbing her phone. She forced a smile as she answered, pushing everything else to the back of her mind.

Jey grinned at her, his background showing a hotel room. He looked relaxed, fresh from a shower, a towel draped around his shoulders. “Damn, you look good. You miss me yet?”

Titania let out a soft laugh, despite the knot in her stomach. “I don’t know. It’s been kinda nice having the house to myself.”

Jey scoffed, shaking his head. “Lies. You probably been walking around in my T-shirts all day, wishing I was there.”

Titania rolled her eyes, warmth blooming in her chest despite everything. This was her normal. Jey. The conversation drifted to his match, his workout, what he had for dinner. He always liked keeping her updated, knowing she was invested in the details of his life.

“How’s everything over there?” he asked, leaning back against the pillows.

Titania hesitated, fingers gripping the phone a little tighter. “Good. Just getting things together for the move. Nothing crazy.”

Jey’s expression softened. “Yeah? You excited?”

Titania nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

And she meant it. She just didn’t know which part of her was excited anymore.

They talked for another fifteen minutes before Jey started dozing off mid-conversation, his exhaustion catching up to him. Titania smiled as he mumbled a soft "Love you," before hanging up.

She set the phone down, staring at the dark screen. Jey was her future. She had written this life, created it. She wasn’t going to let it slip away. But as the quiet settled in around her, the unease crept back in.

She found herself grabbing her laptop, her fingers moving before she could talk herself out of it. Titania started searching for the old thrift store. The place where she had bought the typewriter. The place that no longer existed.

She scoured the internet, looking up the store’s name, the address—anything that might lead her to information about the old man who sold it to her. But there was nothing.

No business listings. No past reviews. No evidence that it had ever been there.

Titania’s fingers stilled over the keyboard, unease settling deep in her stomach. She leaned back against the couch, staring at the screen. Her heart pounded in her ears. This didn’t make sense. There was no way a store could just vanish without a trace.

She was about to close the tab when a search result caught her eye. It wasn’t about the thrift store. But the title made something in her chest tighten.

"Reality Shifting: The Science of Unseen Worlds."

She clicked without thinking.

The page loaded, revealing an old blog. The background was dark, tiny constellations scattered across the top like a map of forgotten stars. The entries spanned years, some dated as far back as a decade ago, the author only posting sporadically, as if they wrote only when they had something urgent to say.

Titania’s pulse quickened as she skimmed through the opening paragraphs. The blog wasn’t just about shifting realities. It was about rewriting them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she read further.

The author spoke of dimensions layered on top of each other, stacked like pages in a book. Most people only ever existed in one version of their story. But sometimes—rarely, dangerously—those pages could be rewritten.

The symptoms of a "rewritten reality" were listed out carefully, methodically, like someone had studied them for years.

Sudden changes in relationships, even with people you’ve known for years.

Objects appearing in your home that you don’t remember buying.

People knowing things about you that never actually happened.

A growing sense of unease, like you’re losing control of your own story.

Titania felt the blood drain from her face. This wasn’t paranoia. This wasn’t stress. This was real.

Her chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, her mind racing. She scrolled further, searching for anything that might help. A passage buried deep within an old post caught her attention.

"A rewritten reality cannot be erased. It can only be reshaped. One cannot go back—only forward. But to move forward, one must first decide: What is the true story?"

Titania’s breath shuddered. The true story. She stared at the words, rereading them over and over. If she couldn’t erase what had happened, maybe she could… blend it.

Maybe she could make both lives—the one she had and the one she had written—exist together.

Maybe she could have everything.

Titania snapped her laptop shut, a decision settling heavy in her chest. She stood, moving toward the spare room, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The typewriter sat on the desk, waiting. Her fingers trembled as she reached for it, hovering over the keys.

This time, she didn’t hesitate.

She started to type.

"Can you blend both of my realities?"

The moment she pressed the last key, the typewriter responded. Words appearing right after hers.

"Is that what you desire?"

Titania swallowed, her throat dry. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself before she typed again.

"Yes. I desire to blend both realities into one."

The machine was silent. Then words appeared in response.

"Good."

She let out a shaky breath, relief flooding her chest. But just as she was about to pull away, another message appeared.

"The past and future have been blended. Her story has changed."

Titania read the words carefully, slowly, letting them settle. The answer wasn’t ominous. It was good news. She had done the right thing.

She could have it all now. Then why did she still feel like something was still amiss?

----

For the first time in weeks, Titania felt normal. She wasn’t questioning what was real. She wasn’t obsessing over the typewriter. She wasn’t being consumed by thoughts she couldn’t control.

Everything felt… balanced. Jey was texting and calling as usual. Naomi was checking in, excited about them growing closer. She had managed to called her parents, her brother, even Mia. Everyone knew now. The haze she had been trapped in for weeks had lifted. She had both worlds now. And it was good.

Titania stood in the spare room, staring at the packed-up typewriter. She had done it. Her old life, her new life—merged. No more rewriting. No more questioning. She had gotten what she wanted. She was happy. Wasn’t she?

She inhaled deeply, pushing the thought away. She had a work meeting soon, and she wasn’t about to let her mind spiral when things were finally going right. This was what she had been fighting for. A life with Jey, a love she had dreamed of, without losing everything she had before.

Her laptop was already open on the desk when she sat down, logging into the virtual meeting. The familiar faces of her colleagues appeared one by one, grounding her in something solid. Despite everything that had changed, she still had this—her job, her career, her independence. She listened, took notes, nodded at the right moments, forcing herself to focus.

Then her phone vibrated.

She glanced at it quickly, expecting Jey or Naomi, but the name on the screen made her stomach clench. Roman.

Titania froze. She hadn’t given him her number. Had she? And she wasn’t supposed to have his. Her throat felt dry as she stared at the screen. The meeting continued, voices droning in the background, but she no longer heard them. The phone vibrated again. Another message. She forced herself to ignore it, her fingers curling into fists. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to entertain this. She had fixed things.

But as soon as the meeting ended, her resolve cracked.

Her hands moved before she could stop them, grabbing the phone, unlocking it. The first message was simple.

"Jey gave me your new number. Why did you change it? Anyway, did you get the bracelet? I thought you would at least tell me you got it."

A slow, creeping unease spread through her.

Jey gave him her number? That wasn’t right. Why would he? And the bracelet—Titania hadn’t even touched it since the day it arrived. It sat in its box, tucked away in her jewelry drawer. But Roman remembered sending it and was expecting confirmation.

Her fingers tightened around the phone. If she ignored this, it wouldn’t continue. If she ignored it, maybe whatever past Roman thought they had would be forgotten.

Another vibration. Incoming call—Roman.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Panic surged through her, and without thinking, she threw the phone across the room. It landed on the carpet with a soft thud, the ringing silenced. She pressed a hand to her chest, her heartbeat erratic. She shouldn’t have reacted like that. But why did it feel like she had been caught? Why did he feel like something she couldn’t outrun?

Minutes passed before she worked up the nerve to retrieve the phone. A voicemail icon waited for her. She should delete it. Pretend it never happened. Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating—then she tapped play.

Roman’s voice came through the speaker, deep and smooth, too familiar.

"We need to talk, sweetheart. Call me back."

Titania’s stomach tensed.

Not Titania. Not Tee. Sweetheart.

She swallowed, but it didn’t ease the tightness in her throat. He had said it like they had always been like this. Like this wasn’t new. Like she already agreed to whatever this was to him. A shiver crawled up her spine, but something else tangled with it, something she refused to name.

----

“Baby, what are you doing down there?”

She turned toward the doorway, still gripping her phone like a lifeline, as Jey dropped his bags and gave her an easy smile.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

She could still hear Roman’s voice in her head, smooth and steady through the voicemail. We need to talk, sweetheart. The heat of it was still clinging to her skin, the weight of something she didn’t want to acknowledge pressing down on her.

She fumbled for an excuse. “I—uh, I was just looking for something.”

Jey cocked his head slightly, his brows drawing together. “Everything okay?”

Titania forced herself to move, to push off the floor and cross the room toward him. She tucked her phone behind her back as she reached him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his chest.

Jey hesitated for a second before his arms circled her, his body warm and solid against hers. “Damn,” he murmured, his voice dropping slightly. “Missed me that much?”

Titania shut her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, grounding herself. This is what’s real. Not the message. Not the lingering temptation curling around her thoughts like an unwanted guest. Jey was here. Jey was hers.

“I just wasn’t expecting you this early,” she whispered, tightening her hold on him.

Jey smiled against her hair. “Caught an early flight.” His hands slid up and down her back, soothing, possessive. “Told you I’d be home before you knew it.”

Titania swallowed, nodding against his chest. She wouldn’t think about the message. She wouldn’t ask him about giving Roman her number. Not now.

Jey pulled back slightly, tilting her chin up. “Come on, let’s go out.”

Titania blinked. “Go out?”

“Yeah.” His lips quirked. “Movie night. You and me. Remember?”

Titania felt something loosen in her chest. A date night. A normal night. Exactly what she needed.

She nodded, managing a small smile. “Okay. Let me get ready. I had forgot all about our date.”

Jey kissed her forehead before stepping back, grabbing his bags. “I mean I can go to the movies by myself, girl,” he joked, heading toward the bedroom. “I’ll date me if you won’t.”

Titania let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she followed after him. She had to hold onto this.

----

The movie theater was perfect. Dim lighting, plush seats, a full menu that made it feel more like a private dining experience than a typical night at the movies. This was exactly what Titania had always wanted—date nights with Jey, little pockets of time where the outside world didn’t exist. And for the most part, it worked.

Jey was completely relaxed, stretched out beside her with one arm draped over the back of her seat, the other reaching for his food. He made her laugh between bites, whispering jokes and little comments about the film, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against her shoulder.

Titania wanted to get lost in it. She wanted to forget about everything else. But the peace shattered the moment she stepped into the bathroom.

She had only been in there for a minute, washing her hands, when her phone vibrated inside her purse. The sound barely registered at first—until she glanced down at the screen.

Roman.

A chill curled down her spine. Her first instinct was to ignore it. She had done it before. She could do it again. But the buzzing stopped. A message appeared.

Her stomach clenched. Slowly, Titania reached for her phone, swiping to open the text.

“You looked beautiful tonight. Shame you’re wasting it.”

The breath left her lungs. Her head snapped up, eyes darting around the bathroom as if he could be standing right there. But she was alone. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be. Then she remembered. The Instagram story. It had been so small, so insignificant. Just a simple mirror selfie of her outfit before they left, posted without thinking. And then later, a quick boomerang of the drinks at the theater, Jey’s arm barely in frame. That was it. That was all.

She gripped the edge of the sink, her pulse hammering.

This was too much. He knew too much. How did he know her Instagram handle? She hadn’t even thought that was possible. But somehow, he had been watching.

Titania inhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t let this get to her. She had made her choice. She was with Jey.

She needed to prove it.

Steadying herself, she turned off the faucet, squared her shoulders, and stepped out of the bathroom. Jey was waiting for her in the lobby, his back to her as he scrolled through his phone.

Titania forced a smile as she reached him, slipping her arms around his waist. Jey grinned, tucking his phone away and kissing the side of her head. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice even.

She wouldn’t think about the message. She wouldn’t think about Roman. The drive home was quiet at first, Jey humming along to the music while Titania stared out the halfway down window, trying to sort through the storm in her head. But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more restless she became.

She needed to replace them.

She needed to fill the space with Jey.

Titania shifted in her seat, rubbing her palms against her thighs, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. She turned toward Jey, her gaze flickering over him. He was focused on the road, his jaw sharp in the dim glow of the dashboard, his hands loose on the wheel.

She reached over, sliding a hand over his thigh.

Jey’s brows lifted slightly. “What you doin’ over there?”

Titania bit her lip. “Pull over.”

Jey glanced at her, amused. “What?”

“Just… pull over,” she repeated, nodding toward a small, wooded area off the side of the road.

Jey hesitated but eventually obliged, steering the car onto the dirt path and parking under the cover of the trees. The engine cut, leaving them in silence.

“Tee, what’s—”

Before he could finish, Titania was climbing over the console, her dress riding up as she settled herself in his lap. Jey’s eyes widened, his hands instinctively gripping her hips.

“Tee—”

She silenced him with a kiss, fierce and desperate. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. She needed this. Needed him.

Jey groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding up her thighs, and she could feel the moment he stopped questioning her. He kissed her back with equal intensity, his grip tightening as she ground against him.

“Jey,” she whispered against his lips, her voice breathless. “I need you. I need it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands found the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head. She was left in nothing but her bra and panties, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Jey’s eyes darkened as he took her in, his hands roaming over her curves.

“Damn, Tee,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “What’s got into you?”

The words sent a wave of heat through her, and she reached for his belt, fumbling slightly in her haste. Jey chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made her ache.

“Easy,” he said, but his own hands weren’t exactly steady as he helped her free him from his jeans.

When they were finally skin to skin, Titania let out a shaky breath. She could feel the hardness of him pressing against her, and it only fueled her desperation.

“Tell me what you want,” Jey murmured, his lips trailing down her neck.

“You,” she gasped, her hips rocking against him. “I just want you.”

Jey’s hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she sank down onto him. The stretch was exquisite, and she threw her head back with a moan. Jey’s groan matched hers, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he adjusted to the feel of her.

They moved together; the rhythm slow at first but quickly building. Titania’s hands braced against his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she rode him. Jey’s hands were everywhere—on her hips, her ass, her waist—pulling her closer, deeper.

“Jey,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he growled, his grip tightening as he thrust up into her.

The sensation was overwhelming, and Titania felt herself spiraling closer to the edge. Her breath came in short, jagged gasps, her body trembling with the force of her pleasure.

“Fuck, Tee,” Jey groaned, his hands gripping her ass as he spanked her, the sharp sound echoing in the small space of the car.

The sting only heightened her arousal, and she cried out, her body clenching around him. Jey cursed, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge. They stayed like that for a moment, both of them breathless and shaking. Titania’s forehead rested against Jey’s, her heart still racing.

She should have felt satisfied. She should have felt grounded. But she didn’t. Jey’s arms tightened around her, his lips pressing against her forehead, completely lost in her.

“Tee,” he murmured, voice still wrecked, still clinging to the moment. “You ain’t never been like that before. I like that shit.”

Titania swallowed, pressing closer, burying her face in his neck.

Maybe I needed it.

Jey’s fingers skimmed her back, slow, lazy. “What’s mine is mine, right?”

Titania exhaled shakily, nodding. “Right.”

Jey hummed in satisfaction, his grip on her just a little tighter. She closed her eyes. She needed to hold onto this. She needed to believe it.

----

Titania was exhausted, but Jey wasn’t done with her yet.

They barely made it inside before he was pulling her back into his arms, his lips trailing over her skin, his hands gripping her like he was trying to burn himself into her. His passion had always been fierce, but tonight? Tonight, it was insatiable.

Titania let him take what he wanted, let herself give in, let him remind her that she belonged to him. Only him.

She needed this.

Needed to drown out the whisper of Roman’s voice. Needed to erase the way her body had tensed at his text, at the message she never sent.

Jey tangled his fingers in her hair, tilting her head back, murmuring against her lips. “Say it.”

Titania shivered, her breath hitching. “I’m yours.”

Jey groaned, satisfied. “Damn right you are.”

And he made sure she knew it.

----

The house was quiet.

Titania lay in Jey’s arms, his warmth pressed against her, his breathing deep and even. She should have been asleep. She should have felt safe, at peace.

But something wasn’t right.

She swore she had heard it—faint, just on the edge of her consciousness. A sound that didn’t belong.

Click. Click. Click.

Her body tensed. She held her breath, listening. The room was still, the faint hum of the AC the only thing breaking the silence. Jey didn’t stir. He was deep in sleep, completely unaware. But then she heard it again.

Click. Click. Click.

Titania’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t possible. She packed the typewriter away. Didn’t she?

Carefully, she slid out of Jey’s embrace, barely breathing as she pulled herself from the bed. The hardwood was cool against her bare feet as she crept toward the door, her pulse a steady, suffocating drum in her ears.

The hallway stretched before her, dark and unmoving. But the sound was coming from the spare room.

Titania hesitated.

She should turn around. Climb back into bed. Pretend she heard nothing. But her feet carried her forward anyway. The door to the spare room was cracked open. A sliver of light stretched across the floor. Titania pressed a shaking hand against the wood, pushing it open further, her breath lodged in her throat.

Her knees nearly gave out.

The typewriter sat on the desk. It wasn’t in the box. It was back in its place. Waiting.

And a new message had been typed. Titania’s chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths as she stepped forward, her legs barely supporting her weight.

The words on the page made her skin crawl.

"Blending your worlds did not change the fate that awaits you."

Titania covered her mouth, a strangled sound escaping her throat.

No. This couldn’t be. She had fixed things. She had said what she wanted and didn’t want.

But the typewriter— the typewriter was always one step ahead.

----

The next morning, Jey kissed her lazily before heading to the gym, leaving Titania in bed with a lingering ache in her body and a storm in her mind.

She needed air.

She needed clarity.

But what she got instead was Roman.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. FaceTime. Titania’s heart stopped. She knew who it was before she even looked.

Roman.

She shouldn’t answer. She should ignore him. But she didn’t. With trembling fingers, she slid her thumb over the screen.

Roman’s face filled the display, his expression easy, familiar, like nothing about this was strange.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Titania swallowed. “Roman…”

His eyes flickered over her face, reading her like an open book. “Been ignoring me.”

Titania forced a breath. “I’ve been busy.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “That right?”

Titania didn’t know how to respond. There was something too steady, too knowing in his expression, like he was waiting for her to slip.

She straightened. “Why did you send me that bracelet?”

Roman’s brows lifted slightly. “You don’t remember?”

Titania stiffened. He wasn’t playing with her. He wasn’t teasing. He was genuinely confused why she didn’t remember why.

Titania’s breath grew unsteady. “Roman… I don’t know what you think we had, but—”

Something shifted in his expression.

For the first time, he looked hurt.

“How could you forget?” His voice was quiet, edged with something Titania couldn’t name. “I don’t—I don’t understand. We were—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply, shaking his head like he was trying to steady something inside himself.

Titania opened her mouth, ready to demand answers, ready to piece together what reality he thought they had.

But before she could speak, the front door opened.

Jey.

Titania’s body snapped to attention. Panic surged through her, her heart hammering as she quickly hung up.

The room felt too small, too charged.

Jey’s voice carried through the house. “Tee?”

Titania fumbled to put the phone down, trying to shake the weight of the conversation. “Yeah, I’m in here!”

Jey appeared in the doorway, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, his expression easy—until he really looked at her.

Something shifted.

His eyes flickered over her, reading the tension in her shoulders, the way she was holding herself too still.

His jaw tensed. “Who was that?”

Titania’s breath hitched.

Jey’s gaze dropped to the phone on the bed. He exhaled, running a hand down his face. “It was Hakeem, wasn’t it?”

Titania’s stomach dropped. She blinked. “What?”

Jey scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking knew it. Knew I ain’t like that dude. And now you sneakin’ around—”

“Jey—”

“Don’t,” he snapped. His face darkened, something raw flashing behind his eyes. Something possessive. “Just tell me the truth. You fucking him, Titania?”

Titania stared at him, her pulse erratic. He didn’t suspect Roman. He had no idea. And somehow, that made this worse.

Before she could speak, her phone vibrated again. Jey glanced at it, his anger already simmering. Titania barely had time to react before he grabbed it off the bed and hurled it across the room. The sharp crack of it shattering against the wall made Titania flinch.

Her heart was pounding, her entire body locked in place. “Jey—”

“I’m out,” Jey muttered, shaking his head, his breathing ragged. “I’m done with this shit.”

Titania’s throat was dry. “It’s not what you think—”

Jey’s jaw clenched. “Don’t.”

He turned, storming out.

Titania barely registered the sound of the front door slamming shut.

Then—

The typewriter.

Titania heard it before she saw it. That familiar clacking of keys. Her stomach twisted violently.

She turned, her feet moving on their own, her breath shallow as she stepped into the spare room. The typewriter sat on the desk, waiting.

The paper was fresh.

A new message.

"He's always been this way. But for her, he'll only get worse."

Titania’s knees buckled and she crashed to the floor.

No.

No, this wasn’t what she asked for.

This wasn’t what she meant. But it was too late. The story was shaping into something she didn’t like. And she knew deep down she couldn’t stop it.

----

Read Chapter 11... (coming soon)

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[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Staying In

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~700

Summary: Rainy day activities

A/N: More fluff.

Warnings: None

Wanda looks up at you with an amused smile when she hears you grumble under your breath for the second time in barely a minute. 

“What is it, detka?” 

Wanda watches as your furrowed brows straighten as her question registers. You look away from your tablet and turn your attention to your wife with an apologetic smile. You hadn’t meant to distract her from her own reading.

It’s a dreary day outside which left you, Wanda, the dogs, and Fletcher to make do with indoor activities. The dogs mostly just sat around watching Fletcher have her zoomies while you and Wanda decided to have a lazy day. Since it was Sunday, you insisted on not leaving bed as you caught up on the book you were currently reading. To be honest, you were reading maybe 4 books at once, but you kept bouncing back and forth between them. You couldn’t read too much of one of them because it was a seriously slow-burn romance and one of the supporting characters was annoying as hell. The other involved a love triangle which usually you hated, but the author was doing a very good job keeping it from diving into the miserably cliché territory. 

That said, the book you’d decided to read today was about two teachers, well a teacher and an administrator, in a boarding school casually butting heads as they fell in love. 

It was fluff personified and it included a resident pet mascot so you loved it. 

You did not; however, like how shortsighted the main character was being right now. You thought you’d hidden it well, or at least hadn’t verbalized your pinched and exasperated expression, but Wanda’s voice makes you realize you’ve failed miserably. 

You sigh as you take note of your wife where she still lays with her head in your lap. She’s also reading on a tablet, but her book is a political thriller that you’d read last month. She was finally reading it so you could talk to her about it, but you were a little more distracting than either of you bargained for. 

“Sorry, Wands. These women are just…clueless sometimes.” 

You decide to settle on this instead of something decidedly less flattering, but from the look on Wanda’s face, you can tell that she knows that you’ve only scratched the surface of your frustration. She smiles as she sets her tablet aside and sits up slightly so she’s resting her head on her hand. She could honestly use a break from her book. The many conspiracy theories are giving her a headache. 

“How many pages are left in the book?” 

You smile as you check this before mentioning that you are almost 75% through the book. Plenty of time for the characters to get their act together…in the last act. Wanda laughs when you say this and she sits up a bit as you lean down to kiss her. You shoot her a curious look and ask how her book is going. She sighs before moving so she’s more comfortable. She’s lying down beside you and resting her head on your stomach before she answers. 

“Oh you know how it is. Nothing is as it seems, and people are getting overwhelmed. Including me.” 

You can’t help but laugh at this and you only feel a little bad when Wanda pouts at you before reaching out for you. You’re certain that she’s going to tickle you in retaliation, but instead she wraps an arm around your waist and lays her head down with a yawn. 

“That sounds tough.” 

Wanda shrugs and mumbles non-commitally before closing her eyes. She’s going to take a short break from her book, and maybe fall asleep while you finish yours. Once you’re finished it will be close to time to make dinner. She smiles when she feels your fingers begin to run through her hair, distracting her from her mild headache. 

“It is. I’m going to take a break. Wake me when it’s time to cook?” 

You nod before you return your attention to your tablet. It’s 5pm, you probably can finish this book in the next hour if you stop pausing to groan every 3 minutes. You continue to play with your wife’s hair as you settle back against your pillow with a smile. 

“Sure thing, Wands.”

Masterlist

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic heart - (4)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

The OG Barbie movie made me believe in magic.

---

“Give me the rollerblades.”, you stomped up the stairs to only notice then, that weird Barbie was headed out.

“I would but we’re all gathering for the sending away party are we not?”, she asked you but in the state that you were in, you were sure your plastic heart was melting. Atleast that was what you hoped your body could do, so it could shed this uneasy feeling. To become a rain cloud so you could pour it all out.

“Who are we sending away?”, you asked feeling out of touch with everything going on.

“Stereo. She’s having a crisis.”, you heard the answer and began to zone out. So that was what she meant before. If she was leaving, then you possibly had a chance now, a thought gripped you.

But the anger that Ken displayed flashed in front of your eyes again. As much as you loved him, he didn’t.

“Tell me where they are and I’ll get it myself.”, you brushed past her. Your only need right now was to forget.

“In the trunk. Don’t forget to read the instructions.”, she bid you farewell as she went on her way while you trudged ahead to find your cure.

The house was dark and eerie. No one could explain why dark clouds swirled around this particular house or maybe it was an aesthetical add on. There was only one trunk, placed in the center with ominous lighting over it. The fear was beginning to take root.

Why would you need instructions for rollerblades?

As you popped open the lid, it let out a hiss and smoke began to bellow from within it. As you seated away the grey wisps, you caught sight of a shimmering pink rollerblade set that looked brand new.

You reached for it and picked it up, the metal rim gleaming almost as if you heard voices telling you to put it on.

In it’s place was a small post it note with something written on it.

In bold font, it was labeled as ‘instructions’

Go to the tunnel of dreams and use the rollerblades to venture further in.

At the heart of the tunnel, you will be shown your deepest desire that could fix your broken heart.

If you chose to accept it, a path will open that will take you to it.

That seemed much more simpler than the box of chocolates. You began to wonder why she didn’t give this to you in the first place.

So you took the skates, the instructions and exited weird Barbie’s house, the cold air was making your smooth skin shiver.

Malfunctioning was the worst experience, so much so that you had had enough of it. You just wanted to go back to your routine, forget Ken and start making cakes again.

‘The tunnel of dreams’, a vintage poster that looked faded was stuck on to the side of a big gapping hole that you were sure was the just the main sewer tunnel. Except it looked it wasn’t in use.

You looked back at Barbie land, you could hear faint cheers and fireworks, no one was going to notice you had gone. You inhaled deeply and then put on the blades. There was nothing here that could make you stay and if you truly were to get your heart’s desire by doing this. Then there was no better bargain.

The wheels glided smoothly against the plastic floor of the pipe, the dark enveloping you until you could see a small light at the end, which began to glow brighter as you approached it.

The buzzing white light was actually coming from a small vintage TV, it’s screen flickering with different ads of different barbies. As you came to a halt in front of it, the screen flickered and it played an advertisement about you.

"Great potential combined with impeccable skill to make the most profound dishes from all around the world. This Barbie has it all, the house, the intellect, the resilience to survive in the most cruel places, *with a drumroll* ‘the chefs kitchen’."

"But not everyone can have everything. This Barbie however does not have a Ken accessory and the one Ken she loves never truly sees her for who she is. "

"So go follow your dreams and establish your careers by adding her to your collection!"

*Each item sold separately

Now that didn’t make anything better. The screen glitched to have a noisy black screen as you stood there taking in the information. But from the darkness came a voice, starting soft as a whisper to soon becoming a commanding echo.

“Is that what you dream of?”

“Is that who you are?”

“What do you long for?”

"Speak it out at once."

The silence had vanished and as the voices echoed, the TV came alive playing pictures of your life here.

What did you long for?

You didn’t know anymore.

Say it

What did you want?

Say it

You covered your ears and began to crumble as the space around you became overwhelming.

The noise, the swirling wind, the jarring lights from the TV that began to flick images from your mind, all of them full of Ken and a few from the bakery. As the foundation of your life began to shake, it cracked all the unnecessary thoughts until there was only one that echoed along with the voices outside.

You wanted to feel like yourself again.

To wake up and wear your outfit and smile like this was who you had always wanted to be.

So you said it softly, first. Unsure.

“I want to be me.”

But it was lost in all the chaos around you, so you began to yell.

“I want to be me.”

“I want to feel like me again.”, you didn’t know you had that in you, a commanding presence to change this storm. And as you peeled away your hands to stand up straight because now you knew your demand. Your true desire.

If you didn’t value who you were? Deriving satisfaction or attention to fill that void from an outside source was never going to prove to be useful.

So as you said it, without a trace of doubt, without Ken’s face appearing in your mind, there was a new conviction.

You were going to put yourself first.

And with that everything stopped instantly. The chaos died and with it your skates began to glow. A bright pink that filled you with a warmth that felt good.

As you began to feel like everything was finally piecing itself together, it only began to fall apart. There was a tear in the dark floor that made it look like you were tearing out of your barbie box. The tear grew and grew until it swallowed you, causing you to fall through.

A choir began to sing around you, as you felt the grip on gravity on your legs.

Never let them know where you are from

Never go in search of your Barbie form

Keep this and you can return when you wish

But beware the tempt of reality, for it will change you

The more you crave to be real, the more it will sever your ties to your world.

All it takes is a wish to come back

If you choose to come back

All it takes is a wish to come back

Will you choose to come back?

With that, as the voices faded, you felt solid ground beneath your feet and immediately, a jarring sound of car horn.

“Oy get off the road!”, a man shouted  from with a yellow car that had taxi written on top of it.

As your eyes began to adjust to this unknown world, buildings stretching up all the way up into the sky, strong smells swirling around you, you panicked to skate away when a pair of strong headlights blinded you. You scrambled to the sidewalk and bumped into another woman, who only turned to shout at you.

You backed into an empty alley way as you watched the crowd pass by.

Feeling scared but strangely, feeling set free too.

---

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[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Two

☁︎ notes: so much tea drinking in this chapter?? my bad

☁︎ warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, implied domestic violence

☁︎ word count: 1.9k

☁︎ AO3 Link // Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @cauldronblssd @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86

Eris barely remembered the night before. He did not remember the questions his father had asked or the nonsense he’d given as answers. He knew in his gut that the truth remained tucked away and that’s all that mattered. 

He did recall his mother hurrying away, though the image was blurry from the pain. He thought he remembered an angel, kneeling by his bedside and blessing him with a touch to his brow. But of course, that was delirium from the blood loss. Every snap of his father’s whip, however, echoed through his memory in a loop.

He woke once in the night, head pounding as he surveyed the room. The moonlight revealed his mother’s sleeping form on the couch by the fire. On the floor beside his bed, another figure slept curled up with a throw pillow. Maybe two figures? It was hard to tell, their outline bulky beneath the quilt. He had a vague understanding that he should be dead, or at least in a great deal of pain. But the bedding felt real enough beneath his hands, the ache in his head like an anchor.

He did not have a chance to wonder about it any further before sleep pulled him away again. He dreamt of the angel and her lovely voice, deep and smooth, easing his pain. 

Worry not , she had said. So Eris slept deep and easy. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

When Eris woke he braced for the full impact of his injury to envelope him, but it never arrived. There was a dull ache throughout his body, but nothing compared to what he felt the night before. He found that he could sit up and move and even stretch with no resistance. 

He flicked on the fae lights and twisted in the mirror, examining his back. There were large, pink scars still tender to the touch. And he was clean, not a hint of the ocean of blood that had threatened to swallow him in his bed. 

That was how his mother found him, staring at his back with confusion and frustration written across his features. She let out a silent sigh as she set down the tea tray, preparing for his interrogation. 

“Someone else was here,” He said. Or rather, demanded, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. 

“Yes. The healer I hired.” She did not look at him, focused on spooning tea leaves into the sieve. 

“Beron forbade it.” His tone was sharp. 

“He will not know. He was called away this morning and you leave for the Spring Court this afternoon.” 

Here she was, pulling strings again. He would always admire her cleverness and always dread the consequences. She was constantly doing favors just so she would be owed one in return. It was the oldest Fae trick in the book and the only way she could gain footing in this court. 

Most of the court and its people would follow her over Beron in a heartbeat. But his reach was wide and his eyes all-seeing. Not to mention his punishments, always cruel and disturbingly creative. Thus, these games of bargains and favors remained. Whispered in dark halls and midnight meetings. Sometimes outside the borders of the court. So far, she had managed not to be caught. Beron underestimated her and one day it would be her salvation and the last nail in his coffin. 

“You hired a secret healer?” 

“And swore her to secrecy, yes,” It was an idea she’d toyed with for a while, but Eris had always asked her not to do it. It was not worth it, to risk some healer’s life on his sorry behalf. 

“Did you tell her the nature of the job?” 

Edana pursed her lips, quiet as she placed sugar cubes into cups. He sat down slowly, releasing a long sigh as he went. 

“The risks, mother,” He said, weariness making it sound more thorny than he meant. 

“Do not scold me, son,” Her tone was firm but her voice shook. She looked at him, russet eyes gleaming. “You would have died last night if she had not been there. I have said it before and I will say it as many times as it takes for this court to hear me. I will not lose another son.” 

Her lips trembled as she let her body crumple into a chair. Eris stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her ruddy hair. Two sides of the same coin, they were. Too soft for Beron’s preferred shade of games, too stubborn not to play their own. 

The purple smudges under her eyes were so pronounced Eris wondered if she’d slept at all. If she’d truly slept in years. 

“Why now?” He asked, his voice soft. An uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. Edana took a moment to answer, her eyes troubled and distant as she warred with something that Eris couldn’t see. 

“Things are brewing, Eris,” She said, “Not just in your father’s court, but in Prythian. I needed to ease my mind. To have one less things to worry about.” 

He didn’t bother asking what she alluded to. She would have told him already if she were able to. Whether it be Beron or some other higher power, she stayed vague for a reason. It did nothing for that sense of unease.

“Thesan has requested to speak with me,” Edana sighed, sounding a little more like herself again, “I assume I will be receiving a scolding from him as well.” 

“No more scolding from me,” Eris sat back down and pulled a cup of tea towards himself, “You know what you’re doing. I just don't want to see you hurt.”

She gave him a small smile and took a sip from her own cup. 

“You’re a force to be reckoned with, mother. One day you will get your justice.” 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

Lady Edana sat across from Thesan, tea and pastries arranged on lace runners between them. The table sat on a balcony, so similar to where she had met with Aya. Fluffy clouds floated past the stone pillars, the arches between them like picture frames housing masterful paintings. 

Edana did not care for the Dawn Court. Everything here was too farefree, threatening to float away with the lightest touch. She preferred to be on solid ground, back in her own court with its scents of humus and ripe apples. 

“Edana,” Thesan began. His eyes avoided hers, as if her opinion would be read clearly within the amber. 

Edana said nothing, anger ebbing and flowing through her like the tide. One moment she had herself worked up, convinced that everyone around her was trying to prove that she was nothing but a fool, a paranoid little housewife. Then she would remind herself that those ideas were Beron’s creation, her anxiety his design. And she calmed, letting all of those feelings flow away until the cycle began again.

“I understand your machinations,” He said, “I know their importance, and I will contribute where I can. But you cannot draw my loved ones into this game. Especially without consulting me.” 

“Loved ones?” Edana asked, meeting his gaze as she took a sip of her tea.

“Aya is my cousin, Edana,” Thesan sighed. 

“Is there a reason you kept her hidden?” 

“She is not hidden. The Dawn Court knows her. But she has always insisted on earning her own living. She wants her success to be her own.” 

“I see,” Edana said, though her expression suggested that she did not see.

“I have a feeling that you elected to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.” He continued. 

Edana tossed her head, but she did not disagree. That was exactly what she had done. Though she had to admit that the fact of Aya and Thesan being related made her decision look much bolder. She had never meant to make a statement. 

“I suggest you do not make a habit of it,” Thesan’s voice rumbled through the balcony. 

Some considered Thesan to be the weakest of the High Lords. Even Tarquin, young and experienced as he may be, could move oceans with his power. But to hear Thesan speak this way painted a different image. Like he possessed some hidden blade within him that was as sharp as he was gentle. Like perhaps, the other courts would be grateful that he stayed close to his palace in this sky. 

Edana finally accepted that perhaps her plans had been rash. Maybe she had underestimated how easily Thesan would forgive her. The clouds floating by the balcony grew dark with the threat of a storm. 

“I cannot break the bargain,” She said, eyes on the table before her. She studied the crumbs of her macaron, pastel purple and flavored with lavender. 

“No,” Said Thesan, a growl full of warning, “But if you misstep, I will have Helion dismantle it.

“I did it for Eris,” Edana choked out, looking up at him. The lovely brown of his eyes was so soft compared to the command in his voice.

“Then he will help protect her. Or he will need more than one healer.” 

“Beron will not touch her.” 

“Do not make promises you cannot keep.” 

They were quiet for a long moment. Then the clouds lightened again, all of the tension gone from the sky. Thesan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

“I did not call you here to scold you,” He said, and Edana thought bitterly that it was a little late for that sentiment. 

“I wish to warn you.” 

She took another sip of her tea and wondered if this was merely a bridge to another lecture about her schemes and manipulations. As if she was a reckless child with no self control, and not a woman trapped in the underground halls of the Autumn Court. They all gave her sympathy, but if they would not help her with their actions then their words meant nothing. She prepared to tell him off. 

“I wish to warn you about Aya,” His eyes narrowed at Edana’s refusal to answer. But he had her attention now. She pursed her lips and locked eyes with him. “There are facets to her power she has not yet discovered. She could rival the best of us one day.” 

“And you have not told her this?” Edana’s brows furrowed, “You do not wish for her to control it?”

“Not all of us fancy ourselves puppet masters,” Thesan said tightly, “I was hoping it would be her own discovery. She’s so unsure of herself.”

Edana stared for a moment longer. It had crossed her mind, the depth of Aya’s power. The ease with which she manipulated Eris’s wounds. Her skill was greater than any other healer Edana had met.

“And I suppose you will not tell me any more about her?” 

“It is not my story to tell.” 

Edana’s nerves were feeling a bit frayed. A scolding, a threat, and now a warning. 

“Are we done here, Thesan?” She sighed and dropped the napkin from her lap onto the table. 

Thesan’s eyes narrowed. No, he had hoped this conversation might last a little longer. He had more to say. But he was as tired of Edana as she was of him. 

“Yes, Edana.” 

Truthfully, she had always been this way. Paranoid, calculating. Even in her days as a young and single courtier, she gambled for scandals and drama, her ante paid in lovers. She had played these games for so long now, her entire world was tinted. Perhaps the right person could have encouraged her to hone that energy. But Beron brought out the worst in everyone. 

Some thought her sons inherited their cunning from their father, but it was all their mother’s. All of their scheming they learned from her. Beron was as dense as he was cruel. 

Thesan watched the Lady leave, her burgundy skirts swishing over the stone floor. Lady of Autumn, Queen of games, mother of foxes.

[waynewifey]

aporia — b.w

part one : dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

sumary: aporia suggests “an impasse”, a knot or an inherent contradiction found in any text, an insuperable deadlock, or “double bind” of incompatible or contradictory meanings which are “undecidable”. [reference]

pairing: battinson/bruce wayne x reader

genre: drama & romance

warnings: mental health struggle, miscarriage, car crash, a lot of internal dialogue

word count: 2k

A/N: the more i write, the more i put myself in this story. i feel like this ‘you’ is so complex i can’t help but try to explain her further. part four will be bruce’s perspective on all of this + an epilogue. i’m so grateful for the amazing feedback given on the last two parts and for the new followers, thank you so so much. i hope you enjoy this. (also this gif??? HELLO???)

GOTHAM. USA.

— bargaining.

the uncomfortable silence makes you want to scream. she told you that was a normal reaction and they couldn't get rid of those moments, they were essential for your self reflection. the problem was being alone with your thoughts, even for just one minute. they keep deciding you won't recover any time soon. everyone keeps holding you like a cracked vase. even negligence was better than being put under the microscope.

"i don't know what you want me to say" you respond, your gaze anxiously shuffling between the objects in the room. the woman's eyes, however, don't ever leave your face. she holds that journal like a scientist analysing a mutation. like you're some weird thing.

"you should say whatever you feel like saying." that's what she always answers. dr. quinn was extremely stoic, even for a therapist. you still liked her, though, because her pragmatic approach helped you shift your point of view and see yourself from an outside perspective, which made you want to help yourself. after weeks of feeling extra irritable, still trying to forgive your husband for lying to you, you realised maybe everything was too much for you to handle by yourself. you wanted to go back to the real world but before that, you had to do this. a quick chat with your psychiatrist and he gave you the contact to harley quinn.

"i think i've been way too mean to bruce" your confession has her nodding, like that observation had been made sessions before and she was waiting for you to realise that. "he's been so supportive and helpful, but sometimes words just fly out of my mouth and i don't even mean them"

"do you think it's easier to blame him than to come to terms with what actually happened?" you can't answer, because this was all you've asked yourself lately. you were a coward, hiding behind his suffering to prevent confronting yours. it's easy to curse him, to reject him, but it's not what you want to do. lately it feels like you don't have any control over your emotions and actions. you thought maybe if you pushed away the last person that still cared for you, you could disappear in your loneliness and finally stop hurting. "y/n you've been through something terrible. the kind of thing we never think it's gonna happen to us. i know it doesn't feel real, but you have to face it that it is. the thing about trauma... you have to keep living with it. you have to keep going, because it doesn't go away. but this is your life and you don't get to stay on standby. you hurt the people you love because it's better than hurting yourself. you told me you feel bad about it, so why won't you change?"

why won't you? you don't even know where to start. it felt comfortable living in sorrow forever. horrible, but comfortable. again, it was in fact easier to blame him than to accept this was reality. but he's right outside, been waiting for you for two hours, as he has done twice a week for over a month. you weren't being fair to him. he didn't deserve this. dr. quinn sees the defeat in your eyes and sighs in a mission accomplished type of breath.

"think about this, okay? we'll talk on friday." you nod, as if you weren't already overthinking it.

bruce sees you before listening to you. he's created the habit to stay in the waiting room with headphones in, blasting loud music. he didn't want you to feel like he was prying on you. he also didn't want to listen anything you had to say about him. you had the right to be mad at him, given everything that had happened. he knew you didn't mean it when you bomb dropped the word 'divorce' every now and then. it would take you some time to get back to normal and he wouldn't rush you.

you walk to the car quietly and get into the driver's seat. he agreed to let you drive to and from therapy. the office was actually in dr. quinn's house, a little bit on the country side of the city, if you could call it that. it was a 50 minute drive with no traffic, roads empty enough for you to drift off in you thoughts. he watches you drive, eyes brightening up a little more everyday. he realised that trying to shield you from the world wasn't going to work out. you need to learn how to be on your own. he needs to learn how to care for you while away.

"i'm sorry," you caught him off guard, observing the curves of your face. he frowns at the unexplained sentence. you glance at him but look back at the road. "for the way i've been acting. for pushing you away. for being too complicated. i know you're trying to help… thank you for staying."

"darling, of course. for better or for worse, remember? i'm never leaving you. we're getting through this, together. and don't you worry about me, i'll be okay when you are too, alright? you're doing great, i can see how much you're working towards it." he holds out a hand for you and you take it, intertwining your fingers. his calloused palms are softer now, courtesy of the months without batman-ing. they still embrace yours entirely and warm the cold tips of your fingers.

"i love you" the sweetness of that feeling dominates your tastebuds and it's almost like the day you started dating. that innocent type of love that consist of the pure enjoyment of each others company. however, your attempt to savour the moment is ruined by a shape in your peripheral eyesight.

"i love you too" bruce's voice is muffled by the anxious thoughts taking over your mind. the panic starts to overflow. he notices your body getting stiff and the wheel looking loose on your hand. your breathing lost it's rhythm to creaking gasps. there's something wrong. your eyes are frozen in a vehicle. he's seen this van before. maybe not this one, but an identical one, in a security camera tape in court. it looks exactly like the one that took you. "baby, hey, hey. i'm right here." you don't pay any mind to the man beside you. you can't, not when your instincts are telling you to run. not when you can feel the gun getting knocked on your head over and over again. bruce is saying something. the tears are blurring your sight. this is too much.

he's calling you screaming at this point, tears are rolling down your cheeks and you still haven't looked away from the van. there's a bump coming up, the car is dangerously fast and you're not driving at all. he goes for the wheel but isn't quick enough. the tires wiggle, going in their own direction. the car changes lanes, getting in the wrong way of the street. another car is coming and the impact isn't light. your head is thrown forwards, the airbag covering your face. the windshield shatters and little pieces of glass get stuck in your hair. the crash isn't too bad, you're both still awake and only the front has been smashed. but you get out hyperventilating, falling onto the ground and weeping.

bruce gets out as well, only a scratch on the forehead. he has to kneel on the dirt to hold you up. for a while, he doesn't say anything. the other driver is standing, phone in the ear. he's also fine. the cars were the only damage. two other drivers stop by, offering help. you wish he could help you, but it seems as if there's something inherently wrong with you.

— depression.

the weeks following the accident were harsh. it took a while to get you believing in recovery again. you still weren't sure. somehow there was press at the site, so pictures of you crying next to a car crash made it to the papers. there's minor commentary online about you faking it for your husbands popularity. most of the netizens feel desperately sorry for you and have painted you to be their new princess diana, the comparison seems wild to you.

you only go online every three days or so, because you can't resist the urge to know what bruce hasn't been telling you. jokes on you, he's actually been a lot more transparent lately. you agreed that the batman would show up to the sentence of edward nashton, to pressure the jury with his presence. it worked and the criminal got life without parole. the lawyers said that your public presence impacted on his trial, as 20 years was the standard. you were just glad he wouldn't do that to anybody else ever again. the case got national and your family from outside the state, that you not-so-kindly kept in the dark, started making contact, victimising you all over again.

but things were getting better, gradually. it had been almost a year and it felt like that chapter of your life was finally being finished. you were trying to get your life back, including your driver's license. it was suspended for a while after the accident, so now you had to submit a bunch of medical records to prove that you were mentally fine to drive again. that's how you found yourself in bruce's home office, searching everywhere for your documents. you could've asked him where he put it, but he had just fallen asleep in the living room and you didn't want to disturb him.

in one of the desk's drawers, you find a folder with the local hospital logo on it. you open it, shuffling through the papers you've seen before. only one stands out, with "ob/gyn" on the top of the sheet. you wonder if there's anything helpful there. your eyes start reading the words one by one, listing the examinations they've done on you. the subject changes abruptly.

the ultrasound analysis reports the miscarriage of an unknown pregnancy to the patient's spouse.

you feel like you're about to throw up. the world starts spinning as you force yourself to continue to read.

the fetus was estimated to be in the development stage of the beginning of the second trimester. the miscarriage was most likely a result of several mechanical trauma. dilation and curettage was performed with the patient in a medically induced coma.

you try to remember to breathe in and breathe out just like dr. quinn taught you. you expect the tears but they don't come out. the panic doesn't come. it's suddenly so quiet. it's not like a hole has been punched through your chest, it's like you have no chest at all. it's like you don't even exist. you somehow sit down, your body does. you feel as if it's moving on it's own and you're just watching from afar. your thoughts sound so distant, so irrelevant. you can only think of the baby that had once been inside of you and you didn't even realised. you didn't have the time to love him. you've had him there, right there, the thing you wanted the most in the world and he was taken from you. everything was taken from you.

if a tree falls on a forest, and there's no one around to hear, does it still make a sound? it felt like your fall was silent.

[megumimania]

4:44 — patrick zweig

synopsis: after publicly embarrassing you and your marriage being at deaths door, patrick shows up offering much more than you bargained for.

warnings: angst, smut (17+), patrick is messy as fuck (figuratively and literally) ,cheating, brief mentions of art and tashi.

a/n: finally wrote something for patrick and of course it got a bit nasty and angsty lmao.

he never meant for you to find out like this.

finding out along with the rest of the world that he was cheating on you was something you didn’t expect to wake up to.

patrick knew of the humiliation and embarrassment that you were going to be subjected to as a result of the leaked paparazzi pics that showed him getting hot and heavy with tashi duncan, an old flame that never really died down. even though he reassured you otherwise.

the media never really left you alone at that point. your simple wish of privacy being disrespected at every turn you take. running simple errands were a thing of a past as you couldn’t escape the barrage of questions being asked as you put your shopping cart away.

‘mrs zweig, is it true that you’re divorcing your husband?’

“mrs zweig, how do you feel about the cheating allegations? do you forgive your husband?”

“mrs zweig, reports say that you engaged in a months long affair with art donaldson, is that true?”

the questions were obviously asked to get a rise out of you and despised it. using your marital issues to sell a quick buck was so low blow. a part of you wished they would fuck off somewhere else,hoping that there would be some new drama that they would fixate on and leave you alone.

thankfully they did, a random celebrity’s pregnancy announcement being enough to distract the public from the turmoil that was your life. you were so relived, finally being able to fade back into obscurity. however, whilst everyone managed to move on like the internet does, patrick was terribly relentless.

patrick kept trying to make up for it, buying you luxury bags and designer goods at your request as if that would heal the heartbreak and embarrassment that you were experiencing. it was a pathetic display of forgiveness and it hurt how litle effort he put in trying to salvage this marriage.

couples therapy was a miss, the both of you being ego driven and stubborn meant that it was like pulling teeth to get any of you to try and take some accountability for the roles each of you played in this marriage.

you weren't delusional, you knew that you weren't perfect and that your marriage with patrick shared the same fate. however in comparison to his infidelity, your supposed issues with control and jealousy seemed minor in the grand scheme of things.

with all avenues exhausted, you decided to push for a divorce much to patrick's dismay. his refusal to sign the papers pissed you off.

why did he have to make everything so difficult?

you thought that some distance would do the trick. so for the past month you've been staying at a fancy hotel in the midst of packing up your whole life to move back to the west coast where your life has always been.

as you were preparing to wind down for the evening, you heard a knock on the door. you quickly shrugged on your robe and your slippers and opened the door to find him of all people standing there.

his eyes looking somewhat ashamed and embarrassed and for the first time the mighty indomitable patrick zweig, looks as small as ever.

“why are you here?” you ask him the million dollar question, the one he cannot answer.

you dont even know why you step aside to let him in. maybe it's the newfound loneliness that makes it harder to maintain that degree of impassiveness towards him. with patrick standing before you in your hotel room you're forced to acknowledge his presence.

he hands you a bottle of wine with an intention to share it between you both and you oblige. he pulls out two glasses for you both as he pours the wine into your glass first and then into his. you watch how his freckled hand smoothly pours the wine into the glass without any spillage.

you dont even know why you listen to him talk, as if you'd get something reasonable from him but you know he's full of bullshit. when you ask why? with a lump forming in your throat. he stands there aimless, the words falling dry on his tongue. looking at you as if the answers written on your forehead.

yet it isn't enough to fully squash your want for him. so when he does lean in to kiss you, you let him. the kiss is short but weighted, his apology being interwoven into every kiss. the several glasses of wine in your systems has you both feeling some type of way.

“should we even be doing this?” his voice seems worlds away when it’s buried in the crook of your neck. his hands roam around your waist in a tentative manner, unsure whether he's doing the right thing but when you place his hands firmly on your waist, he feels his heart race.

“i won’t say anything if you don’t.” the go ahead you’ve given him turns him into a madman, with clothes being haphazardly strewn across the hotel room. he can't get enough of you. his hands wanting to leave a mark on every single part of your body making you groan in pleasure.

patrick fucks like a man starved.

your legs rest on his shoulders as he buries his face into your wet cunt, lapping up the juices with his tongue. the lewd slurping and sucking sounds as well as the way his nose bumps against your clit has you grinding into his face. god he missed this, missed you.

“patrick im so close…” you mewl as you grip onto his messy curls. he ignores your warning continuing to devour your pussy without a care in the world. your vision swims and your toes curl as you’re on the brink of coming undone. patrick knows this and like the asshole he is he will not stop until you're a whining mess.

he lets out a low groan becoming drunk on your pussy, his eyes half lidded and filled with lust. “missed your pretty pussy, fake ones didn’t hit the same.” he murmured. eating you out was his favourite past time if he could say so himself. patrick ignores your pleas, making direct eye contact with you as he spits onto your cunt smearing it all across your puffy folds.

“fuck... patrick!” you cry out as your vision goes white and your body goes limp. he comes up a few seconds later, his lips coated in your slick as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss where you can faintly taste yourself on his tongue. his teeth lightly grazing your lower lip makes you pause for a second when you realise the bastard was fucking smiling.

“what's so funny?" you cock a brow at him and he laughs again even harder this time, before dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand. "can’t a man enjoy his last fuck with his soon to be ex-wife?” he grins like the arrogant fuck he is, the vitriol that threatens to leave your mouth is quickly silenced with a gasp as patrick swiftly enters you.

you both still for a moment, as you try to accommodate each other. it’s been a long time since you’ve slept with someone let alone your husband. you hopelessly grip onto his bicep, your manicured nails leaving red crescent shaped marks on his skin.

finally patrick starts to move, his strokes slow and languid as if he’s trying to savour every moment of this moment with you. he drinks up all the moans and expletives that carelessly leaves your lips as he picks up the pace, slamming into you with a desperate fervour.

the way patrick’s dick kept hitting your g spot was enough for you to start seeing stars, the obscene squelching sounds from your pussy was enough to drive him insane. “baby, please m’gonna—” you whined, feeling your body tense up as you desperately clawed his back.

he was fucking you stupid but you couldn’t complain, he knew your body like back of his hand our mind foggy as all you could focus on was him thrusting in and out of you.

if patrick was able photograph this moment, he would. your fucked out expression, the way your tits bounced with each thrust, the anklet he bought you that was adorned in diamonds sitting pretty on his shoulder. however he knew that this wasn’t something to be commemorated, this was a goodbye.

his hands squeezed your pretty tits, circling your spit covered nipples until they were hardened peaks. “you’re gonna what? i can’t help you if you don’t use your words doll.” he rasped against your ear, biting back the urge to moan after feeling your pussy fluttering around him.

he knew that he was being a bit mean by playing dumb but he didn’t want this to end, so if he had to prolong your orgasm then that was it.

your back arched slightly at the stimulation you were experiencing, making you heady with pleasure. “i-i’m gonna cum patrick.” you admitted, voice strained and tears brimming your eyes as you were soon approaching your climax. “see, now i can help with that.” his hands snake down to your clit rubbing it in circles, only speeding up your orgasm.

your body convulsed as you came all over patrick’s dick, legs still trembling from the after effects of your orgasm. patrick’s release followed shortly after, slumping down beside you with a huff. the two of you stayed like that for a while, your breathing being the only sounds filling the room.

eventually sleep claims you both, his arms snug around your waist providing you more comfort than you anticipated. by the time you wake up its midday and the sunlight is streaming through the curtains.

you get a start on your day, ignoring the way your muscles ache with each turn and the litter of hickeys decorating your neck that are still visible no matter how many times you part your hair in different directions.

days later, patrick finally signs the divorce papers you’ve sent him in the mail. you’re too busy staring at the words on the paper to notice your wedding ring that has rolled out of the envelope.

you hold the ring that now more feels weighted than before, it holds an air of finality toward it that leaves you with a bittersweet feeling, that it was now all finally over.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Nostalgia Fest

Nostalgia Fest 2024:

Just Like Heaven by Dizzle00 - E, one-shot - They lay face-to-face after, kissing, hands brushing hair and skin. No words were spoken because none were necessary. Then suddenly, words became impossible. The sun was no longer streaming in, the light now had a grey tint to it. They shivered, suddenly feeling a cold breeze over them, and both of their brows furrowed in confusion. A clap of thunder, then darkness, and the heavy sound of a downpour. Draco’s teeth chattered. He was so cold.

If You Fall by Dizzle00 - E, one-shot - “I hate it when you ignore me,” he growled into her neck as he kissed across her throat. “You drive me mad.” “You ignored me for five years,” she panted. “I thought of you every day. Every second.” “Why didn't you come back?” “I did.” “Why—oh,” she moaned as he sucked a mark into the spot below her ear, “why did you wait so long?” “I tried to stay away, so you could be happy.” I was only ever happy with you, she wanted to scream.

Like A Little Prayer by SomnophiliaSweetheart - M, 4 chapters - During their Eighth Year at Hogwarts, efforts to promote interhouse unity brought the Slytherins and Gryffindors closer—some in ways that feel like a dream. Draco Malfoy found himself falling head over heels for Hermione Granger, but he's convinced she'd never want him, resigned to let his love be nothing more than a whisper in the dark. Content to stay her best friend, he keeps his secret until Pansy Parkinson threatens to let her know. Draco might find that life is indeed a mystery, but his prayers may finally be answered. Based on 'Like A Prayer' by Madonna (Excessive use of lyrics throughout!)

Who Would've Thought? by ghouls_just_wanna - G, 3 chapters - Hermione's excited about maybe, possibly, hopefully meeting her secret pen pal at the water park. That is, until her day starts taking a turn for the ironic.

10 Things I Maybe Hate About You by Asilynn - E, 4 chapters - Draco Malfoy was anything but approachable. Trying to survive life after the war, the reformed Death Eater and Slytherin bad boy, returned to Hogwarts for his mandatory 8th year. Little did he expect he would end up accepting a bet to ask out Hermione Granger to the Hallows Eve Ball. However, getting her to say yes was more than he bargained for between navigating 80’s music, a muggle record player, and a swoty witch. Loosely based on the movie 10 Things I Hate About You

Hold My Heart by TheLadyMalfoy (RiverOfTheSand) - T, one-shot - Hermione was tired of being the notorious bookworm. She wanted to be seen for herself. To be appreciated. And the 80’s themed, final dance of her Hogwarts years seemed like the perfect time and place to just let go. To let magic and fate take over for one night. But when it leads him to her, she doesn’t want the night to end.

This is ongoing.

[reginalusus]

power scalling gotham crime lords: two face versus all the non meta criminals like black mask, joker etc. how far does he go before he gets defeated? everything counts like skills, number of goons and 1v1 etc.

Harvey solos.

Serious answer under the cut.

What the fuck do you mean 'before he gets defeated', that MF is winning. He has blackmail on everyone, a 1983 Milkor MGL and a AA-12 shotgun at his disposal. Everyone is dying.

Ok, ok, sorry for my bias. It would be silly and unfair, yes. I'll give a more comprehensive answer. Also, I love how people throw fighting questions at me specifically because I don't stop yapping about how Harvey is physically capable and should be in a fighter game and shit (he should be).

Anyway, I'm only counting Joker, Penguin and Black Mask as to not get too convoluted. Harvey canonically dismantled the old crime mobs almost single-handedly and ushered in the era of crazies, we all know that, so I'm not counting them either. He has that behind him. So consider that also.

I think out of those three, Black Mask would probably, maybe, be the easiest to take down. 'Easy' is not too easy, obviously. Roman is a petty pyscho and if he has his False Face Society backing him, he's gonna have some loyal grunts at his side. Roman himself is also a pretty good criminal strategist, but Harvey is just better IMO: he's been in the game longer and knows an uncanny amount about how the underground operates, an underground which cannot completely hide Roman. Harvey has, and could gather, information on everyone. Harvey is known for having loyal men (just look at the Arkhamverse), and I do think Harvey's influence stretches farther than Roman's. Harvey himself also has more combat training than Roman, better gun handling too, so I am very confident he'd whoop Roman's ass 1V1, sorry, Roman.

Next is Oz. Oz is a lot trickier to tackle as an answer because, while obviously Harvey could one-shot him, it's the power that Oz has under his belt. He has guys everywhere, he controls gun operations in Gotham, he is surrounded by protection, he is extremely manipulative also, and has a SHIT ton of money. I think the hardest thing Harvey would have to do is actually get *near* him. However, again, I think Harvey's wit and knowledge could allow that. He could find a way to 'meet' Oz through bargaining and blackmail, if he has any, though the latter may be a mistake since Harvey and Oz normally don't get along. At all. So that may have future repercussions. If we go by the Arkhamverse again, a lot of Oz's men are quite fickle, with some even betraying him to join Harvey's side. So perhaps Harvey could take advantage of that, take him down from the inside. And then, when he finally does get into close proximity of Oz, boom, it's over, really. However, it's *still* not that simple. Oz has enough money to build himself an impenetrable fortress, really. BUT, Harvey HAS got the drop on him before. So this is difficult. It'll boil down to Harvey's prep. The dreaded 'prep'.

Oh, boy, then there's Joker! The issue with Joker is that he plays dirty and has gadgets and toys to use. He is unpredictable, and also extremely powerful in Gotham's underground scene. I am going to completely disregard modern takes on the Joker, including my beloved Arkhamverse Mark Hamill version, because modern depictions make him far too OP IMO. He is a twink clown with a lot of guys, gadgets, and a clever, criminal wit. Harvey could physically solo him, but it's the trickery and dirty play that he'd have trouble with. Harvey, again, is better with gun handling, so ehhhh. It's 50/50 here, ironically.

I'd say the one to defeat him, if it does result in that, would be Oz. But, again, it comes down to SO many variables. You could twist it any way to make any of these characters win TBH.

But Harvey solos in my heart.