#she is brutal and i know most people will not catch it

[asteracaea]

oh my god, so high school is SO funny

[gatheryepens]

okay some thoughts about Sunrise on the Reaping, because if I don’t say anything I might go insane….

[cherryheairt]

Hidden Truths

Cregan x Wife!reader

pt. 1

named reader (aye-leese) no description, from house Glover.

summary - Cregan comes home from war with a scandalous surprise, much to the horror of his wife. Though, it is not all that she expected when she heard of her husband's infidelity.

Inspired by Ned and Catelyn Stark (obviously lol)

It had been four moons since Cregan Stark returned from King's Landing, ending the war and placing Aegon iii on the Iron Throne. Four moons since he presented his bastard for all to see, declaring to his wife that they would raise the boy as a legitimized Stark.

Aelys Glover, now Stark, had never thought her husband would betray her in such a brutal way. To bed another woman down in the South, in a time of war, to father a bastard. To give the bastard his Stark name.

She hadn't even had her first babe yet, due to the young couple deciding to spend their first few years of marriage having each other all to themselves. Had it all been a lie from Cregan? A masterful deceit to make his mistress' son his heir? Perhaps he had regretted their marriage and chosen to disregard any of her future children, thinking her genetics undesirable. Whatever dull excuse he had, it would never be enough to balm her heart.

People whispered about which mother's son might be Cregan's heir apparent.

It was not yet decided, and would not be until years ahead when Aelys showed if she could bear him more sons or not. Until she did, Brandon Stark would be Cregan's unofficially heir as his eldest son.

Aelys had refused to share a bed with Cregan since the night he returned. She would not perform her marital duties anymore, not until she was either dead or he forced her, which she knew he at least had the honor to not. Aelys would give him no children of her own, spitefully intending to leave the Stark line to a bastard who would forever be known to the world as such.

She would make it clear that her husband's stupidity would end the Stark's honorable history streak. The babe would be legit, yes, but never trueborn. It was said that bastards were born nasty and cruel, and Aelys had not believed such rumors until she met the babe herself. Her spite grew in spite of her previous kind and understanding nature, driven to hate the babe without knowing him.

Even with the same House name as his father, the boy was nothing like him. He seemed to carry his mother's traits, instead, whoever she was. Dark black hair and even darker eyes to match, though the Northern pale skin Cregan carried had stayed through the genetic battle.

At least Cregan did not bring her home, too. If he had, Aelys would have thrown herself from The Wall in shame and disgrace. She would not be the other woman in her own marriage.

His words when he returned burned at her heart, even now the dust had not settled nor had the fire quelled.

"It was a one-time tryst, I swear this to you. A night of vulnerability, when it got rough in King's Landing." He said, voice strained and undereyes dark with the heavy weight of guilt and responsibility. She'd never felt such an intense urge to hit a man before.

His bastard sister, Sara Snow, a woman whom Aelys had grown to see as her own sister and close confidante, returned from King's Landing a month after her brother.

She looked even worse than her elder brother, who still could barely hold Aelys' eyes when she wordlessly passed him in the halls. She looked gaunt and exhausted, though she claimed that the journey back was tiring. Sighing, Aelys could only welcome her back into the Great Keep to catch up over all that she had missed. Apparently, Sara had stayed in the Riverlands for most of the moons Cregan had hosted in the Crownlands. She was housed by the Blackwoods, becoming fast friends with Alysanne Blackwood and Davos Blackwood, the fierce aunt and nephew who fought together against the Greens.

No useful information about the whore that Cregan had bedded that night, Aelys bitterly thought for a moment. Then, a wave of guilt and regret hit her. It was not Sara's fault for her brother's mistakes. She was truly glad to have the conpany back, seeing as Winterfell had felt cold and emptier now that Cregan was back than it ever had before. She had been avoiding his for these four moons, leaving only a few rooms accessible for her privacy and peace of mind.

She never entered the nursery room's entire hallway. Even when needing something past it, she chose to go the longest possible route to avoid it. She didn't wish to think about the boy more than she already did. She saw him during dinners, being presented to Cregan by his wet nurse before being put down to sleep for the night. Those mere glimpses were plenty to feed her anxious mind.

Today, the adjacent hall towards the Keep's hotsprings was closed. "A few cobblestone in the wall have cracked, m'Lady. You mustn't enter for one might accidentally fall on you." A young servant boy had informed her, thoroughly apologetic as she sighed and headed him. The nursery's hall was the only one that also held the door outside, lest she chose to go all the way around the outside of the keep in this blizzard.

The thought was tempting but childish. Steeling her courage up, Aelys had fixed herself to stride past the door. She could not help the subconscious glance inside, seeing the glimpse of curly black hair laying alone in his crib, but wide awake and almost flailing around in a fuss.

Looking around, Aelys was surprised to see not one attendant or wet nurse. From her experience with babes, they were rarely left alone unless they were sleeping. Even then, some mothers and nurses liked to hover to ensure its safety while unconscious. Aelys stepped into the dim room, finding that Brandon's attention immediately focused on her. He whined out, reaching out grabbing hands toward her. Grimacing, she reached into the crib to lift him up, holding him at a safe distance from her face.

Up close, she could reluctantly admit that the babe was cute. He was well-doted on in the Keep by all the maids and even visiting Lords. Though his parentage was questionable and whispered about, none actually had the courage to ask why the boy had been legitimized so quickly. Aelys guessed it had been the circumstances. Aegon, the new King, was young and suseptible to influence, so legitimizing a bastard like Brandon was done without question.

"What are you fussing on about, you spoiled thing?" She asked, though her tone was soft and gentle. Brandon smiled a gummy smile, face lifting as he reached out again for her. This time, she allowed him to rest on her shoulder as she supported him, gently rocking back and forth as she stood. The faster he was asleep, the faster she could leave without feeling like a monster.

She already had that feeling nagging at her mind too much. Hating a babe took a lot of energy. She knew it was wrongfully placed, but Brandon's very nature and sire had wronged her more. The physical reminder that his father had not loved her.

Soft snores filled the room as she hummed lowly, the vibrations and comforting sound putting the fussy tot to sleep quicker than she had anticipated. Gently placing him back in the cot, she hands gripped the wooden edges harshly, a sharp contrast to her previous touch. Was she betraying herself for not demanding that the babe be taken away? Warded with another great House until she finally had a son? No. Cregan would never allow it, even as Lady of the House she held no true power over the Warden.

Turning, Aelys was met with her husband in the doorway. Silent as a stalking wolf, he leaned against the doorway and looked upon his son and wife with pools of affection. There was a slight gloss to them as she looked closer that she opted to ignore. "Cregan." She greeted curtly, moving to slide past him and speak no more of her presence in the nursery.

"He has a way of melting one's heart, does he not?" He asked, tilting his chin to look down at her. A branch, left out and hanging by Cregan's strong arms. Too bad that she did not need it.

"He disgusts me." She said instead, shouldering past him and continuing back to her rooms. She changed her mind in the few minutes that she spent with the bastard Stark boy. She could stay here no longer, could not bear for her own husband to bring this embodied lie to live in the very home that she did. Wouldn't raise any children to be in their older brother's shadow.

Ignoring the hushed plea from Cregan, Aelys went straight to the Maester's tower. Maester Parek had been a helpful and understanding ear for Aelys to rant to when dealing with arisen problems, whether with her moon blood, achy bones from the cold, or questioning if any ravens had come from mysterious women. None had, as far as she had been told. That is, if Parek had been entirely truthful to his Lady.

Hurriedly knocking on the man's door, it was soon opened after a grunt of physical labor had been heard from the other side. The Maester had always complained about his bad knees and how they were made worse in the winters.

"Lady Stark?" He asked, shocked to see her at midday. It was a rarity, as she usually made her visits in the morning after she broke her fast.

"Maester." She greeted, shifting on her feet. "I need to send a letter, urgently."

"May I ask to whom?" He inquired, earning a solemn nod from the young Lady.

"I'm sorry, Parek. It is private."

"Of course, my Lady. The room is yours." He bowed and left the chambers to occupy himself while she busied herself as well. She immediately made for the small attached room in the tower, made into a raven nest hundreds of years ago. A few perched black birds squaked or raised her heads at the unfamiliar sight curiously, but they were well-trained and did not spook.

Bending over the crickity desk, she quickly drafted a messily-writen yet vague letter.

Father,

Some troubles have come up in Winterfell, and Cregan Stark has advised me to return to House Glover's protection while he deals with matters here. I will be returning swiftly, though the snow will hinder the horse a few days.

See you soon,

your dearest Aelys.

As soon as she finished, she hastily melted the powder blue wax and sealed the direwolf sigil onto the rolled paper. Tying the scroll to a raven's foot, Aelys sent it off. The bird would reach House Glover's Maester quickly, and in the meantime she would ready herself for departure.

As she was shoving clothes and pelts into various bags, the very ones that carried her belongings to Winterfell over two years ago, Aelys could not stop the hot, angry tears that fell to her cheeks. Wiping away at her face with scruffy sleeve fur, gifted to her by Cregan himself, Aelys felt the frustration and loneliness sting at her soul. The loneliness was a choice on her part, most would say. That she was dramatic and most Lords sired bastards. She should be grateful he did not bring the mother back, too, and house her in his home next to his Lady Wife. All whispers she heard from her ladies-in-waiting, whom she immediately dismissed from service upon hearing such impudent things.

She would not be subjected to the humiliation. She wanted love, and she once had it. Oh, she had it. Cregan treated her like a goddess walking amongst humans for the moons they spent together before his leave to King's Landing. If she could not have Cregan's loyalty or love, she would at least find a man who she did not have high expectations for. An older Lord, perhaps, one who just wanted a young and pretty woman to give him final heirs during his last years of life. Aelys would know her role, then, and would live contently knowing she did not love foolishly while expecting faithfulness in return.

First, this marriage had to be annuled. In Lord Glover's home, she could easily ask for such a thing. The marriage had been commsumated, but there were no witnesses and no babes to confirm this to outsiders. Aelys would simply have to claim that she and Lord Stark never once bedded before he left to find another woman, and then she'd be an unmarried Lady once more. A Glover, not a Stark.

She realized she'd been quite fastidious in her packing. Unlike her carriage ride to Winterfell, her luggage could not be carried easily on one horse. She picked only one of her bags, with the thickest dresses and warmest pelts she had, rushing out of the room while clipping a cloak over her shoulders. Dark blue in color, Aelys almost cursed at the thought that almost all of her wardrobe and fine things had been gifts from Cregan. Her pelts, gloves, and even the horse that she would take home.

Cobalt, she had named the steed, noticing how his pure black coat almost gleamed blue in certain lights. Cregan had a wide and cherishing smile on his face as he walked the young stallion out of the stables a few days after their wedding. They often took walks on trails in the Wolfswood together on horseback, just their muffled conversations filling the still air. She remembered every moment with her husband fondly before he tarnished everything. Now, she knew all of it to be a facade, just like any other Lord in Westeros might have done. At least other men had the decency to be nasty plain to your face, unlike the Stark.

Aelys sneaked into the armory to pick up a few extra things, knowing no one would occupy the room when the whether was so unfortunate.

Striding towards the stables with squinted eyes, Aelys shivered at the temperature change. Luckily, the journey would be quick, with only a few days to walk on horseback. Cobalt was a resilient horse built for such harsh weather, and she was a Northern woman through and through.

She attached the bag and waterskin to Cobalt's saddle after she tacked him up. His long and unruly made quivered in the breeze as the light blizzard raged on as it had been for two days now. It did not deter her. She attached her bow and quiver to the other side to keep weight even, knowing she'd have to hunt for herself during the journey.

Steadying herself on the saddle, Aelys glanced once more at Winterfell's Great Keep, where Cregan was surely in his study or councilroom. She squeezed Colbalt's side lightly to urge the percheron onwards, giving herself no room for second guessing her choices.

At the wall's gate, the two snow-covered men regarded her with weary looks. "My Lady, there is a blizzard—" Ron Frasel told her, ginger brow upturned in question.

"I have eyes, Ron. I will return soon, I have buisness in Winter Town." She said tiredly, not wanting to be interrupted by the men at such an important time. It would not be long before a maid reported her missing.

Ernest, the guard's most frequent partner, inquired gently. "Will you require any assistance, Lady Stark? I'm sure Lord Stark would feel more at ease knowing you are escorted."

"He is fine with me going on my own, it is a short ride." She said curtly, anxious for Cregan to find out about her plan.

Ernest nodded and gestured for the iron gate to be lifted. "Safe travels, my Lady." Before bowing his head politely.

As Aelys walked through the opened gate, she urged Cobalt to a faster trot to create quick distance between her and Winterfell before she set up camp.

Ron shared an uneasy look with Ernest as the woman passed. "Lord Stark has never allowed her out without a guard before." He whispered.

His friend nodded, eyes glancing between her fading figure in the snow and the Keep. "Perhaps we should go see Lord Stark himself, just to be safe."

Ron shivered. "If he finds out we let his wife go into the blizzard without him knowin', who knows what'd happen to us."

"Quickly, then." They were both skidding off towards the Keep with no time to waste.

[sugugasm]

BET | love and deepspace

⟡ tags : underground boxer! sylus + reader — sylus isn’t afraid of going all in when it comes to you.

ミ★ content warning : fem! reader uses she/her prns, mentions of blood & injuries, mentions of female anatomy as well as male anatomy, oral fem! receive, gentle to rough sex, pet names like bby, dove, kitten, honey, 5.0K WORD COUNT

you step into the dimly lit underground boxing gym, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cigarette smoke, and leather. it’s a seedy place, hidden in the heart of the city’s most notorious neighborhood, where the law doesn’t dare to tread. the crowd tonight is a mix of rough characters - bikers with gang patches on their jackets, local gangsters with glares and expensive watches, shady high-rollers in suits looking to place big bets on the illegal fights.

as you navigate through the throng of people, you spot him in the corner, preparing for his match. sylus - the man who happened to be your ex-boyfriend . . oh, and only the most feared bare-knuckled boxer in the underground circuit. he was a sight to behold, all rippling muscles and newfound tattoos, with messy silver hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. you watch as he methodically wraps his hands, his intense red eyes focused on the task.

your history with sylus is complicated, to say the least. you met him two years ago at a biker rally, drawn to his bad-boy charm and undeniable charisma. he swept you off your feet with his daredevil antics on his custom harley and his smooth talking ways. but sylus’s world was always filled with danger, violence, and illegal activities. as the leader of onychinus, the city’s most notorious motorcycle club, he ran an empire built on illicit evol weapons, protocore deals, and underground fighting.

at first, the thrill of it all was intoxicating - the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of his bike, the wild parties at the onychinus clubhouse, watching him dominate in the ring. but as time went on, you grew tired of the constant chaos and the fear that one day, sylus’s risky lifestyle would catch up to him. you wanted stability, a future - things that sylus scoffed at. ‘i live in the moment, babe,’ he would say with that infuriating smirk. ‘and right now, all i want is you.’

but it wasn’t enough. six months ago, after a particularly brutal fight that left sylus battered and bleeding, you reached your breaking point. you told him you couldn’t watch him destroy himself anymore, that you needed more than he could give you. sylus, stubborn and proud as ever, refused to change. ‘this is who i am,’ he growled. ‘so take it or leave it.’ so you left, walking away from the man you loved, determined to build a life free from the violence and uncertainty.

now, seeing him again after all this time, you feel a mix of emotions stirring within you. anger, hurt, frustration . . . but also a undeniable pull of attraction and longing. as if sensing your presence, sylus glances up, his red eyes locking with yours. a slow, confident smirk spreads across his handsome face as he saunters over to you, the crowd parting before him.

“well, well. look who it is,” he drawls, looking you up and down appreciatively. “didn’t expect to see you here tonight, [★]. come to watch me dominate the ring as usual?”

you scoff and cross your arms, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects you. “i’m not here for you, sylus. i’m just here to collect on some bets.”

he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “sure you are, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that.”

sylus takes a step closer, invading your personal space. he smells like musk and sandalwood, a scent that brings back memories of stolen moments and passionate nights. “i miss you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “everything’s been so boring without you around to keep me on my toes.”

you try to stay strong, but you can feel your resolve wavering. damn him and his charm. “i’m not here to rehash the past, sylus. what do you want?”

his eyes glint with a challenge. “make a bet with me - when i win the championship belt tonight, you give me another shot. a chance to prove that we’re meant to be together.”

you laugh in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. we’re done, sy. i’m not falling for your games again.”

“who says it’s a game?” he counters, his expression turning serious. “i know i messed up, [★]. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want you back in my life. i need you.”

you hesitate, torn between your lingering feelings and your better judgment. sylus is a force of nature, wild and untamed. being with him is like dancing on the edge of a razor - thrilling but dangerous. can you really risk your heart again?

“and what do i get if you lose?” you ask, buying yourself time to think.

sylus flashes you a cocky grin. “you know i never lose, kitten. but if by some miracle i do . . i’ll leave you alone. for good. unless you decide you can’t resist me and come crawling back.”

you snort at his arrogance, even as a part of you wonders if he might be right. sylus has always had a hold on you, an undeniable magnetism that draws you in against your will, “fine,” you hear yourself saying, almost as if from a distance. “you’ve got a deal.”

his grin widens, triumphant. “get ready to come back to where you belong, [★] - with me.”

the crowd starts to get louder, chanting and cheering as the lights flicker and dim. it’s almost time for the main event - sylus’s championship fight. he starts to walk towards the ring, but pauses and turns back to face you.

“watch closely now, honey,” he says with a wink. “i’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”

with that, he strides away, his movements graceful and predatory. you watch him go, your heart pounding in your chest.

what had you gotten yourself into?

as the crowd’s chanting reaches a fevered pitch, sylus steps into the ring, the picture of coiled power and raw aggression. his opponent, a hulking brute known as ‘the mauler’, glares at him from across the mat, pounding his meaty fists together in a show of intimidation. but sylus just smirks, unfazed. he’s taken down bigger, badder fighters than this guy.

the referee calls them to the center, going over the rules - not that there are many in the underground circuit. “no biting, no eye gouging, fight ends with a knockout or tapout. keep it clean . . ish. touch gloves and come out swinging!”

sylus bumps his taped fists against the mauler’s, staring him down with those intense red eyes. then they’re backing away, the air crackling with tension as the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

the bell sounds and the mauler charges forward with a roar, swinging wildly. but sylus is too quick, too skilled. he slips and weaves, dodging the heavy blows, letting his opponent overextend himself. sylus fires off a rapid jab - cross combo, snapping the mauler’s head back and drawing first blood from his nose.

the big man snarls and redoubles his efforts, trying to use his size to his advantage, to trap sylus against the ropes and pummel him. but sylus is like smoke, always just out of reach. he targets the mauler’s weak spots with surgical precision - a knife-hand to the solar plexus to crush his wind, a heel kick to the floating rib, an elbow smash to the jaw.

each blow lands with devastating impact, chipping away at the mauler’s formidable stamina and sending the crowd into a frenzy. they chant sylus’s name like a war cry, thrilling at the sight of the chiseled, tattooed demigod of the ring in his element.

you watch in breathless awe, pulse racing, body heating. damn him. he’s magnificent like this - a perfect fighting machine, all fluid grace and controlled violence. it’s enough to make you forget why you walked away, to let yourself imagine those powerful hands on your body once more . .

a pained grunt snaps you back to the moment as the mauler finally lands a solid hit, a haymaker to sylus’s ribs that sends him staggering. your heart leaps into your throat. but sylus just shakes it off with a feral grin, spitting blood and bouncing on his toes as he beckons for more.

they trade blows in a brutal, lightning-fast exchange, neither giving quarter. the mauler is flagging but still dangerous, pure grit keeping him on his feet. sylus bleeds from a cut over his eye but barely seems to feel it, an unholy light in his gaze as he scents victory.

he presses his advantage with a dizzying flurry of strikes, driving the mauler back . . back . . until he’s pinned against the turnbuckle. sylus hammers his torso without mercy - left hook to the liver, right uppercut to the chin, again, again. the mauler’s knees buckle and sylus steps back, letting him crumple to the canvas.

the crowd erupts as the ref counts it out. at “ten,” sylus throws his hands up in triumph, basking in the adulation. his eyes find yours across the room and the heat in them makes your breath stop. in three long strides he’s out of the ring and hauling you into his arms, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

for a moment, you forget where you are. forget the mob of rowdy spectators whistling and catcalling. forget every reason you swore you'd never let him back into your heart. all you know is the demanding press of his lips, the steel - cable strength of his blood-slicked body, the intoxicating rush of his victory and your surrender . . .

“looks like i won our bet, babe,” he says smugly, smirking down at you. “hope you’re ready to pay up.”

you scowl, hating how easily he affected you. “one. drink. that was the deal.”

sylus touches his tongue to the seam of his split lip, gaze roving hungrily over you. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

he drags you through the throng of well-wishers and sycophants, his grip on your hand unbreakable. outside, the night air is cool against your overheated skin, charged with tension and the distant growl of engines.

sylus leads you to his pride and joy - that sleek demon of a harley crouched by the curb. the way he straddles the throbbing machine is blatantly sexual, all hard muscles and black leather. he jerks his head at the space behind him.

“c’mon - you know the drill, hop on.”

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

then, sylus kicks off and you’re flying, the city lights a neon blur as he opens the throttle. your pulse pounds in time with the roar of the pipes, excitement and desire a heady drug in your veins. by the time he screeches to a stop outside a dingy saloon on the outskirts of town, you’re dizzy with need.

inside, the bar is a den of sin and swagger, all scuffed leather and polished chrome and clinking bottles. eyes follow sylus with a mix of fear and reverence as he stalks to a booth in the back, one possessive hand at the small of your back.

he orders a whiskey, neat, and your favorite poison, not bothering to ask what you want. at your raised eyebrow, he shrugs.

“i remember.”

two words. but the weight of history and unspoken emotion behind them squeezes your heart. your fingers tremble slightly as you raise your glass in a mock toast.

“to your victory. and my reckless wager.”

sylus’ gaze is molten as he clinks his tumbler against yours, gaze holding you captive over the rim as he tosses back the smooth liquid. the slight burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the smolder of his stare.

“what are we doing, sy?” you ask into the charged quiet, liquid courage loosening your tongue. “why now, after all this time?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw. he looks down, spinning his empty glass, broad shoulders rigid with tension.

“i fucked up.”

his voice is low, raw with a vulnerability you've never heard from him. your breath snags.

“i thought i needed the rush, the rep, the respect. and yeah, maybe i did, for a while. but none of it meant shit without you.” slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he reaches for your hand — lacing his scarred, tape-wrapped fingers with yours, “i was a coward. i pushed you away because i was scared shitless of how bad i wanted you - needed you. needed your strength, your goodness. you made me want to be better. and it truly fucking terrified me.”

his grip tightens, almost painfully. anchoring you to him.

“losing you . . it broke me, [★]. made me realize that the only thing i’m actually afraid of is living without you.”

sylus swallows hard, his throat working. when he looks up at you, his eyes are blazing with fierce intent.

“i know i don’t deserve another shot. i know i need to earn back your trust. but i swear to whoever may hold my fate, if you give me a chance, i will spend every waking day proving that you’re my whole damn world.”

your heart is a wild bird in your chest, frantic and yearning. you search his face, finding only sincerity and aching tenderness beneath the bruises and blood.

“i never stopped loving you,” you confess, voice breaking. “no matter how hard i tried to hate you . . i couldn’t let you go.”

sylus makes a rough sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. then he’s kissing you, deep and urgent and saying everything he can't put into words. you fall into him, all hunger and desperation, the levee finally breaking on the flood of your need.

“take me home,” you gasp into his mouth, fingers curling in the sweat-damp silk of his hair.

“i thought you’d never ask, dove.”

the anticipation is a living thing as sylus speeds through the lamp-lit streets, the throaty growl of his harley between your thighs a heady reminder of the man commanding the machine. by the time he pulls into the cavernous garage beneath his loft, your body is humming, every nerve ending alight with need.

sylus is on you the moment you dismount, crowding you back against the rough brick wall, his large frame enveloping yours. his kiss is searing, possession and passion, strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds into you. you moan into his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his leather-clad shoulders, craving more.

“been dreaming about this,” he rasps against your lips, his voice like gravel and whiskey, igniting heat in your veins. “having you back in my arms, in my bed. fuck, [★], need you so bad it's like a sickness.”

“then take me,” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant hunger shining in those crimson eyes. “i’m here, sylus. i’m yours.”

something animalistic unfurls behind his gaze, a primal sort of satisfaction that has you clenching with want. in a burst of movement, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his lean hips as he strides purposefully to the industrial elevator that will carry you to his domain.

the short ride up is a haze of frantic kisses and roving hands, two years’ worth of pent-up longing seeking outlet. by the time sylus kicks open the door to his loft, you’re both panting, clothes askew and lips kiss-bruised. he carries you straight to the bedroom, a cavern of shadows and silver moonlight spilling across rumpled black silk sheets. when he lays you down in the center of that decadent expanse, the reverence in his touch steals your breath. his battle-scarred fingers shake slightly as they skim over your curves, learning you anew.

“so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, crimson gaze tracking hungrily over your body like he's committing every detail to memory. “can’t believe i almost lost this . . lost you . .”

“never,” you whisper fiercely, reaching up to cup his angular jaw. “i’m here, sylus. right where i belong. and i’m not going anywhere.”

he turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his lips graze your fingers — and ever so gently, he bites. then slowly, deliberately, he divests you of your clothes, unwrapping you like a gift. you echo his actions, baring him inch by glorious inch to your avid gaze.

sylus’s body is a work of art, all chiseled muscle and inked skin, a roadmap of violence and survival. you take your time tracing the ridges and hollows, the scars and scrolling tattoos, familiarizing yourself with this new landscape of him. he shudders beneath your questing touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low rumble building in his chest.

“[★],” he grits out, and fuck, how you’ve missed the way he says your name, guttural and raw, like a prayer and a plea. “please, baby . . need to taste you.”

“yes,” you hiss, already aching, empty. “please, sylus.”

granted, he descends on you like a man starved, that talented mouth charting a path of fire over your sensitized flesh. he maps every curve and valley with lips and teeth and tongue, each nip and suck and lap stoking the inferno building in your core.

when he finally settles between your trembling thighs, the first bold stroke of his tongue punches the air from your lungs, your spine arching involuntarily. he groans in appreciation, strong hands splaying your thighs wider, opening you fully to his voracious appetite.

“fuck, i missed this,” he rasps against your slick folds, the vibration of his words making you keen. “missed the way you taste, the sounds you make when i devour this sweet cunt. could feast on you for hours, little one . .”

you whimper breathlessly, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other tangling in his silver hair, holding him to you. sylus takes the encouragement for what it is, sealing his mouth over your aching flesh and suckling greedily. stars erupt in your eyes, pleasure rioting through your veins as he works you ruthlessly, adding clever fingers to his oral assault. he curls them just right, rubbing that secret spot that has you seeing god, all while his wicked tongue paints obscene promises on your clit.

“s-sy, fuck!” you wail, back bowing, thighs clamping around his ears as he drives you higher and higher. “oh god, yes, just like that! don’t stop, please, i’m gonna’ cum . . fuck, baby-”

he doubles his efforts, a man possessed, growling his own pleasure into your core. “that’s it, my love,” he urges gutturally between long, lewd licks. “go ahead and give it to me, wanna’ feel you drench my face, want you gushing on my tongue . .”

his filthy encouragement hurls you over the edge with a strangled scream, release slamming into you like a freight train. you shatter spectacularly, pulsing and clenching around his thrusting fingers, slick gushing into his eager mouth as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

when you finally drift back down to earth, aftershocks still rippling through you, sylus is grinning up at you wolfishly from between your thighs, his beard glistening obscenely with your essence. “fucking incredible,” he rumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your still-twitching center. “could watch you fall apart on my tongue forever and never get tired of it.”

“get up here,” you demand breathlessly, tugging him to you. he comes willingly, settling his considerable bulk over you, caging you beneath miles of warm, hard muscle.

you claim his mouth in a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. he responds with matching hunger, hips rocking into the cradle of your thighs, the thick ridge of his erection a brand against your sensitive flesh.

“please,” you whimper into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “need you inside me, sylus. been too long, i want it . .”

“fuck,” he snarls, the words seeming to snap his restraint. “far too long, honey. be patient, you know i will.” slowly, giving you time to adjust, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes forward, gasping harshly at the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him. “goddamn,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead pressed to yours. “silly me. i almost forgot how fucking perfect you feel. like coming home.”

“yes,” you moan, reveling in the familiar stretch and burn of his thick length entering your body. “missed this so much . . missed you . . love you, sylus, so fucking much.”

“i love you too,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before surging back in, starting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. “i never stopped, never will. you’re only for me, [★]. only me.”

you lose yourselves to the timeless dance, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, rediscovering every perfect angle and hidden sweet spot. sylus takes his time, building you back up with long, measured strokes, whispering words of worship into your skin, branding you with his love.

“so good,” he groans, hitching your leg higher on his hip, sinking impossibly deeper. “could stay buried in this tight little pussy forever. never wanna leave.”

“don’t.” you gasp, fingers clawing at his flexing back, desperate for more. “stay — harder, sylus, fuck me harder. wanna’ be able to feel it tomorrow.”

with a low, approving growl, sylus complies, snapping his hips faster, driving into your yielding body with the piston precision of the machine he rides. the wet, obscene slap of flesh fills the room, punctuated by your escalating moans and cries.

“i’m not gonna last,” he warns, rhythm faltering. “too good, too fucking good. tell me you’re close, baby . .”

“s-so close,” you pant, the coil in your belly wound to the breaking point. “just a little more - fuck, right there, sy . . o-oh my —”

sylus hammers into you, grunting with the effort, sweat sheening his skin. he wedges a hand between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. “cum on my cock,” he demands, voice strained. “let me feel that pussy grip me, milk me . .” his words are your undoing, hurling you into oblivion with a keening wail. your inner muscles seize around him, rippling and fluttering, trying to pull him deeper as you drench his driving length in release.

“fuck, yes!” sylus roars, pistoning wildly, chasing his own end. “gonna’ - ah, shit, kitty, i’m cumming!” his climax overtakes him with a force that borders on violence, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself deep in your still-spasming core, painting your inner walls with thick ropes of his seed. you mewl weakly in blissed-out overstimulation, aftershocks rolling through you as he fills you to the brim.

finally spent, sylus collapses onto you, taking care not to crush you with his bulk. you cuddle as sweat and other fluids cool on your skin, hearts gradually slowing in tandem. he’s still stuffed deep inside you and you clench involuntarily around his now-softening length, loving the way he groans, overused nerves sparking. “keep that up and we’ll be going again real soon,” he warns playfully, nuzzling into your neck.

you huff a laugh, carding your fingers through his damp hair. “yeah, yeah,” you tease. “we’ve got time now, sylus. all the time in the world. i’m not going anywhere.”

he raises his head to look at you, crimson eyes soft and full of wonder. “damn right you’re not,” he rumbles, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “i’m never letting you out of my sight again. you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

“eh, could be worse,” you quip, grinning up at him. “i think i can handle being stuck with you. it’s only forever, after all.”

“forever,” sylus echoes solemnly, like an oath. “i like the sound of that. you and me. binded as one.”

“ . . . and loving each other stupid every chance we get,” you finish impishly, wiggling your eyebrows.

he barks a laugh, the joyful, uninhibited sound making your heart soar. “oh, that is definitely part of the plan,” he assures you, a wicked gleam in his eye. “gotta’ make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“mmhm, that we do,” you agree readily, warmth suffusing you. “better get started on that. forever’s not getting any longer.”

“as my lady commands,” sylus murmurs, capturing your mouth again as he begins to stir inside you once more.

and as passion ignites anew, the promise of countless tomorrows enfolding you like a benediction, you know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs.

because this love, tempered by loss and longing, by time and truth . . it’s unbreakable. a bond that even the harshest trials will only serve to strengthen.

and with sylus by your side, his heart in your keeping as surely as yours rests in his scarred and steady hands . .

. . you know you can weather any storm.

forever, and then some.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent. tagging @ramonathinks <3

[leviathanspain]

Hello!! Would you be able to write a request for finnick? Just like he’s the capitols darling, reader is the capitals hound dog. Known to be fiercely protective and exceptionally violent and brutal. During the third quarter quell, katniss’ group is afraid of reader because they haven’t seen her all match, but they run into her and she defends them brutally against something? Sorry I know it’s specific:) love your writing!

my body is a cage

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: his focus was protecting katniss, but he sleeps with an eye open as long as you’re still out there..

a/n: i made some changes, jus go with it lmao

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“she’s still out there, katniss.” finnick had made this pointedly to katniss, who wanted to go out hunting for the remaining victors with johanna. you were shrouded in mystery, out of all the victors, finnick knew the least about you.

“where would she be?” peeta looked at finnick, who sighed, shrugging, “the arena is different than the arena she won in, i assume somewhere low to the ground-“ finnick sweeped the beach, eye catching on a rustle in the bush, straight across from them, “and close.” he remembered now how you had won your games.

you had tracked all the tributes like prey, manipulating their surroundings to kill them, it had been one of the most invigorating games for the capitol ever. “she’s a bloodhound, probably sniffed us out before we realized.”

johanna watched the area that finnick had saw you, but still offered her commentary, “she’s brutal, katniss.”

katniss looked at them all, surrounded by skilled people yet found herself doubting their abilities, especially her own. none of them were sure they’d win, not against her.

“the careers are the least of our worries with her out there.” peeta noted. finnick looked at him and shrugged, “she might just kill them herself.”

they knew getting back on the island was a bad idea. katniss ducked at the sound of a mysterious voice, feeling as something flew past her head, stabbing cashmere right in the chest.

“get up.” katniss looked up to see you, standing over her. you had an array of weapons on you, and you were reaching for another one. katniss felt the panic in her throat until you launched it at enobaria, who had thrown herself at katniss. “get up!” your voice sounded more frantic and katniss did, struggling from keeping her eyes off of you.

suddenly the island began to spin.

your grip was loosening, and you groaned with slight fear as you felt the cold water thundering against your feet. katniss reached out for you, “grab my hand!” she screamed, but the water trashing drowned her out.

you could see her hand amidst all the water and grabbed it tightly, closing your eyes as the island slowed to a stop.

you sat on the beach, alone as the others argued over you. katniss had defended you, deciding she wanted you as an ally. but finnick and johanna deemed it too risky, “she could kill us all in our sleep, then what?” johanna had made that point as one of your methods, and you inhaled sharply.

finnick glanced at you, noticing the solemn expression on your face. he had known that expression far too many times, and it made him change his mind.

“johanna.” finnick called her name and sighed, “she saved her life. that’s not something we can just ignore, we don’t even know her.”

there was silence between them all, katniss had looked to johanna, watching as she fought internally before giving in. “i’ll go get her, maybe threaten a little.” she stood up, taking her axe with her.

finnick looked to katniss as johanna left, “i’ll keep an eye on her. for you.” he knew that once katniss settled on allies, she settled. her choices weren’t always the best, but somehow it would work itself out.

“why did you save her?” finnick had taken the first watch with you. johanna had convinced him, as just having you as watch would be ‘asking for it’.

you shrugged, “why not.” there hadn’t been much decision making on the island. it was either her or cashmere, and you didn’t see much of a choice.

finnick looked at you, “i don’t believe that.” his eyes slid themselves back to stare at the beach and you scoffed, “and why is that?”

finnick shrugged, “no one would just randomly save someone without an ulterior motive.” he said it like a fact and you smirked, “do you have one?”

“have one what?” he looked confused, obvious by the furrow in his brow.

“do you have an ulterior motive?” you repeated the full length question and watched as finnick practically whipped his head around.

“no.” he stated plainly, and you rolled your eyes, “i saw you saved katniss, similiar to how i did. you and johanna can’t just be doing this,” you glanced back to katniss and peeta sleeping, “for nothing. whatever it is, finnick, is an ulterior motive.” finnick pursed his lips, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“i’ll let you have yours if you let me have mine.” you finished, catching his gaze. finnick knew there were layers to you. you were different than most victors, your brutality is what made you like the rest of them, the willingness to kill. but you were turning out to be way more than what meets the eye. whatever your motive was, finnick sensed it wasn’t malice.

finnick settled to watch the sun rise upon your face, ending the conversation with a nod.

finnick watched as you sat by the beach. it had been post jabberjays, you, him and katniss had all been trapped with the birds, fluttering and screaming your names. now it seemed, like you had decided to decompress by the beach, just as he was going to.

he piled up next to you, close but far enough to give you a good amount of space.

it was then that finnick realized you had been crying, tears evident on your cheeks. he had heard katniss yell her sister’s name, and he had heard annie. you had just screamed in response, as if you were trying to drown out the birds with your own voice.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized to finnick, wiping your eyes as he settled down. you sniffled, watching as the waves moved.

“don’t apologize, there’s no need.” finnick spoke, “who did you hear?”

there was silence for a moment, until you spoke, “my best friend.” your mind shuddered back the sound of his screams and you laughed, painfully. “he’s been dead for years. i killed him.” you admitted, “he died because of a mistake i had made during the games.”

your mind flashed back to the games, where you had accidentally launched a knife to his chest, thinking it had been another tribute.

“he had spent all of his games searching for me. and once he found me, i had killed him.” it was cruel for him to be your district partner, for only one would survive, but you “never thought it would be me.” you glanced at finnick, who had been listening.

“it was supposed to be him.” you cried, “i killed everyone else to get to him, and when it was down to four, was when he came to get me.” you shook your head, “there is nothing in this world that i loved more than him, finnick. now that he’s gone, there’s nothing left for me.”

finnick shook his head, “stop. you know that’s not true.” he tried to comfort you, your words mirroring his own thoughts.

“that’s my motive, finnick.” you revealed, “my body is a cage, and i can’t stand to live in it much longer.”

johanna had woken up abruptly. she clutched onto her weapon, eyes glancing around before she settled on the two figures on the beach. she squinted and made out finnick’s hair, and you. the only two missing from the group. you had your head leaned on finnick’s shoulder, as the two of you watched the rising sun.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving V

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You hate clay courts

It's not often that two people from the same country end up in the finals for the French Open but you and Carlos Alcaraz have taken the Rolland Garros by storm.

You weren't the biggest fan of clay courts. You didn't like the way they felt under your feet and you knew you were a bit hit and miss this entire tournament.

You always managed to win though, by the skin of your teeth sometimes. But a win is a win and both you and Carlos were representing Spain at the finals.

He was against Zverev and you were against Iga.

She was your usual partner in training, the world number one. Her coach was your coach and he had purposely decided to sit this one out because he knew he couldn't coach both of you fairly for this final.

Iga was nice though. She'd always been nice and welcoming and she helped you settle in Poland and even introduced you to the girl that would eventually become your girlfriend.

But all that was off the table as soon as she first served.

Iga was brutal on the court and you'd always known that. She was a great player, a perfect player most of the time but you had a different play style than her.

She had it all planned out. She had a style and she stuck to it.

You were a bit more reckless. You were younger and you hadn't quite worked out the way you preferred to play.

It left you in a few tricky spots throughout the Rolland Garros but you'd pushed through like you're pushing through now, getting a volley going with Iga and trying to work out how to get her to make a mistake.

You're a bit of a wildcard sometimes. You've been known to feign one way and hit the other.

The audience is used to Iga dominating a final, especially this one, but you're holding your own very well. You're battling against her well though, holding your own even as you have to regain your footing a few times on the clay ground.

It's decided, as you stumble forward and just hit the ball over, you hate clay courts with a passion.

But, still, as the minutes go by, you find your rhythm.

A rhythm that lets you try one more reckless manoeuvre that completely catches Iga off guard. She can't return it and you fall to your knees in shock.

You've just won.

You hadn't gone into this final thinking you would win. You'd gone into it hoping you'd win, for sure, but you thought that you didn't actually have a chance.

You get to your feet shakily, stumbling over to the net to shake her hand.

"Next year," She says, bringing you into a hug," Let's go for the doubles together, alright?"

You nod. "Sounds good."

You thank the umpire and you go around shaking the hands of all the ball girls. When you were younger, at one of the professional tournaments, you had been a ball girl. You knew what it was like.

Iga got given her prize, holding it up for the crowd and then you received the cup, smiling brightly in all the pictures.

You were covered in red clay as you made your way through the corridors.

Your family was waiting for you.

You went into Alexia's arms like you always did and her arms wrapped around you, completely familiar and welcome. You lean into her, sagging in relief as someone takes the cup from you so you can hug her properly.

"I'm very proud of you," She whispers," So proud of you."

"I don't like clay courts," You say back and you can feel the little chuckle of amusement from her.

"I know."

"I'm covered in muck."

"I know but you can go and shower and then we'll head back to get some food."

You giggle as you pull away. "I'm so hungry."

Alexia laughs too. "I know."

Dinner is perfect when you've got the trophy sitting next to you and Alba insisting on having dessert for a job well done.

Mama cries, like usual after you've done anything even related to tennis. Alba makes fun of her.

Alexia sneaks into your hotel room.

You both lay on your bed together, looking up at the blank ceiling.

"I don't know anything about tennis," Alexia admits," Nothing. Nothing at all."

You flick your eyes to her. "What?"

"I don't know anything about it apart from you hit the ball back and forth."

"Ale...I've been playing tennis for years."

"I know and I still don't know anything. Isn't that scary?" She's laughing a little bit. "Years taking you back and forth and getting you new rackets and outfits and watching you win. I still couldn't tell you anything about it."

You're laughing as well, almost hysterically laughing. "Well," You say through your giggles," I must be the better sister because I actually understand the rules of football."

She swats at you with an eye roll. "Football's easy to understand. You don't get sister points for that."

"But still," You say," I've got the most amount of points."

"No you don't!"

"Yes I do!"

The thing about growing up with your sisters is that the three of you were hyper-competitive people, to the point that the 'Sister Championships' happened every year complete with a shared spreadsheet to keep track of everyone's points and a strict set of rules on how they could be earnt.

"I do," You say, bringing up the table on your phone to show," I've got ten more than you because I looked after Alba's dog when I was last home."

Alexia swears. "Damn it."

You grin. "I'm going to win this year."

"I've still got time. I'll let Alba have my window seat on the flight back tomorrow."

You shuffle closer until you've got your head resting on her shoulder. "We're not flying home tomorrow."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Because Carlos has won so it means Spain has won the men's and women's singles. There'll be lots of PR stuff for me to do with him."

"And why can't I go home?"

"Because I need someone to keep me sane, Ale."

She thinks for a moment before nodding. "That'll earn me at least fifteen more sister points."

[space-cowgirllll]

Crush

a/n: soft jackson ellie ily.

not proofread, if you see any mistakes look away lol.

She couldn't stop staring. Sitting on a cold bench in front of Jackson's little schoolhouse, she hides behind the astronomy book she'd recently found while out on patrol. Frozen fingers flip to the next page every couple of seconds, far too fast to actually retain any information. She watches you lead Joel to a particular part of the fence that has clearly seen better days. The wood is rotting and splitting apart in certain spots. No longer safe for the children who play nearby. You nudge the post with the toe of your boot, eyes widening when it topples over. 

Her eyes follow the curve of your neck as you throw your head back, laughing at something Tommy said. Your smile lights up your entire face, sending a flutter of giddiness through her body, almost as if it had been directed at her. She bites her lip, averting her eyes when you crouch down to inspect the damage. Where you found jeans that fit you like that in times like these she'd like to know. One more quick glance and she contemplates walking away, leaving Joel to get dinner by himself.

"What are we looking at?" A familiar voice whispers behind her, causing her to almost drop her book. She clutches it to her chest.

"Nothing!" She whips her head around to find Jesse and Dina behind her. The pair plop down on either side of her watching while the two men try to make the broken piece work until Joel can come back and replace it later. You stand off to the side chatting, not wanting to get in their way. Ellie marvels at how pretty you look under the street lights. Your hair a messy halo of waves, making you look angelic. 

"So," Jesse knocks his knee against hers "Are you ever gonna actually talk to her?"

"I talk to her!" Ellie scowls. "She comes over to Joel's for dinner once a week."

"Oh, we know." He interrupts "We've been invited."

"It was brutal."  Dina winces. 

The couple quietly tease Ellie, reminiscing over that night a few months ago. She had begged them to come and serve as a buffer between you and her. They spent the whole night watching Ellie try and fail to not make a complete fool of herself. Stumbling over her words and cracking lame jokes that left her screaming into her pillow later that night in embarrassment. Jesse's foot kicking her under the table when she stared for too long. Ellie listens with a pout on her face. 

"You guys are the worst." She groans. Her eyes travel back to where you stand, widening a little when she sees you already staring. There's a tiny smile playing on the edge of your lips. Heat rises to her cheeks when you send her a little wave. Sorry, you mouth, gesturing to Joel and Tommy.

Dina's giggle seems to catch your attention. You shift from Ellie's flushed face to the brunette beside her. The two of you share a look, seemingly having a conversation with just your eyes. There's a sly smirk on your face when you finally look away. Her brows furrow in confusion. In that moment, Ellie wishes she spoke girl better. 

"You know what? Surprisingly, I think she might like you too." Her best friend pats her thigh as she stands. "Do something about it before she finds someone else who will actually make a move." 

She grabs a confused Jesse by the hand, leading him in the direction of her house. The two whispering as they go. 

Ellie digs the heel of her sneaker into the ground, the thin layer of snow crunching underneath her foot. Most of the people in her life knew about her little crush. The way she offers to take your patrol shifts if it was too cold. Always on the lookout for things that would brighten up your small classroom. Volunteering when you ask for help with random little tasks during town meetings. She isn't as subtle as she thought. There's no way you don't know she's spent the past year and a half pining after you and haven't said anything. 

Not only is she ridiculously awkward, Ellie speculates your disinterest also comes from the three year age gap between you two. At twenty four, you probably see her as a little girl with a crush. 

She can see how much you enjoy spending time with Joel, especially after your grandfather's passing. She would hate to ruin that for you. It's better for everyone if she keeps her mouth shut.

____

It isn't until a week later that Ellie sees you again. She's shirtless in the middle of her makeshift home in the garage just feet behind Joel's house. There's a small pile of discarded tops sitting at the foot of her bed. She huffs, trying to find one that nice enough, but doesn't make it look like she tried too hard.

You stopped by the stables in the morning, making plans with Joel for dinner and a game of poker. Ellie hid behind Shimmer, trying to think of a way to get out of tonight when a look from Joel told her she had no choice. She fumbles with the last couple of buttons on the flannel, too lost in thought to hear the sound of the door opening. 

"Ellie, food's read- oh!" 

"Shit!" She spins around to find you standing in the doorway, eyes fixed on her panicked face as she pops the last button open. Ellie shoves her arms into the sleeves of the maroon flannel she'd borrowed from Dina, knowing it probably matched the color of her flushed cheeks. At least she'd thought to put on a bra.

"In my defense, I knocked twice." You state as you slowly make your way around the room, pausing to inspect the posters hung on her walls. She watches you pick up the comic she'd thrown on the coffee table earlier. Your eyes light up in recognition. "Oh hey! My grandpa used to read these to me. I think I have some you're missing if you ever wanna see them." 

Her breath catches in her throat at the prospect of spending more time with you. "Really?" She grins. "I'd like that."

You nod, walking slowly towards her. Your footsteps loud in the quiet room. Ellie watches the way your piercing gaze roams her face, slipping to her exposed torso for just a second before locking eyes with her. She hopes you didn't hear the embarrassing way her breath hitches when you replace her clumsy fingers with yours. Ellie basks in the warmth radiating from your body as you button up her shirt, your warm breath hitting her temple. 

"Cute." You smirk looking down at her. "Really makes your eyes pop." Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, you step back towards the door. "Don't make us wait too long."

Ellie stands frozen, heart pounding in her chest, listening to your retreating footsteps wondering what the hell just happened.  ——

After another slightly awkward dinner, she was shocked when you showed up at her doorstep again that night, this time waiting until she opened the door. Giving her a shy smile, you'd held out a box full of old comics, letting her know there was no rush on returning them. Ellie still remembers the grin that bloomed on your face when she'd invited you in. 

The two of you rarely left each other's side after that. Your friendship blossoming in the months that followed. It helped that you liked to talk and Ellie liked to listen to you talk. Most nights were spent together, either at your place or hers. She loved it when you read to her while she drew in her sketchbook. Some nights she would attempt to teach you how to play some of her favorite video games, enjoying how cute you looked when you were pouting after losing to her. The two of you had even started growing a dvd collection, always fighting over what movie to watch (she let you win almost every time.) 

She couldn't believe how quickly you'd become such a big part of her life. Ellie still had the urge to pinch herself on the mornings when she'd wake up to you sleeping soundly next to her. And on the nights where she'd stay awake, late into the early hours of the morning, memorizing every inch of your face, the magnitude of her feelings for you scared her. She'd do anything for you. 

Which is how she finds herself standing in the corner of the room nursing a drink, doing what she does best - watching you. You've been looking forward to the winter dance for weeks, begging Ellie to come with. The sweet look on your face when she walked through the door sent a rush of excitement through her.

You stay by her side all night until one of your friends pulls  you to the makeshift dance floor, managing to get Ellie out for one song before she quickly retreats back to where she was despite your protests. You're glowing under the twinkling lights, dancing and singing your way around the room. The navy blue sweater she'd gifted you for Christmas last month fits you like a glove.

"So where's your girl?" She looks up to find Jesse standing there, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat from dancing. Dina's laugh sounds off from somewhere behind him.

Ellie chokes on her drink "She's not my girl." She says through a nervous chuckle. 

"You mean to tell me you follow her around like a lost puppy and you'll sleep in her bed but you won't tell her how you feel?" 

She shifts nervously from one foot to the other. "We're just friends. I sleep over at Dina's all the time."

"You don't look at Dina the way you look at her." He sighs looking out at the crowd of dancing people. "All I'm saying is it's only gonna get worse the longer you ignore it. Are you prepared to be her friend while she dates someone else?"

Ellie's eyes follow to where he's currently staring. Bile rises in her throat as she watches you dance with someone else. Twirling around with another woman, her hands where Ellie's had been just minutes before. Her hand grows clammy around the glass. The blonde kisses you. Her lips far too close to your mouth for it to be friendly. Before she knows it, she's pushing past her friend and rushing out the door. 

The chilly January wind bites at her face as soon as she steps outside. Blood rushes in her ears as she quickly walks back towards her house. She's mad. Mad at Jesse for being right. You for leaving her standing there alone. But mostly she's mad at herself. What had she been thinking? That she would just get to know you more and not fall even further? Her cold palms press into her eyes, trying to alleviate the stinging sensation. This crush was going to ruin her. 

She stops just feet from her door, digging into her pocket for her key. Footsteps that are not her own pound on the snowy pavement behind her. "Ellie!" 

Her eyes squeeze shut, regretting not walking faster. She wants nothing more than to freak out while buried underneath her covers. For the first time ever she doesn't want to see you. 

Your hand grips her bicep, spinning her around to face you. "Els what's wrong?" 

"Nothing 'm jus tired." She mumbles shrugging you off and taking a step back. Your lips pull down into a frown at her actions. 

"Why didn't you tell me? We could have come back together."

She scoffs. "You seemed a little busy. Didn't wanna bother you." 

"Ellie-"

"Caroline's great." She interrupts. "Word around town is she has quite the crush on you. If you wanna go back don't let me stop you."

"Oh my god shut up." In the blink of an eye she find herself up against the wall, your body caging her in. Your hands fly to the back of her head, fingers tangling in the short strands of her newly cut hair. You tug gently, forcing her to look up at you.

"She kissed you." Ellie whispers looking like a kicked puppy. 

"And if you had stayed long enough you would have seen me brush her off." You cup her face, slowly dragging your thumbs across her cheeks in a soothing manner. The tenderness in your eyes will forever be ingrained in her mind. "There's only one person I want to spend my night with and she's right here."

"Really?" You nod, brushing the tips of your noses together.

"I don't want to be just your friend Ellie," You whisper against her lips, your breaths mingling together. Her ears ring at your confession, and she hopes you can't hear the way her heart is pounding. "and I know you don't either. I've been waiting for you to make the first move, but I'm real tired of being patient baby." 

Your lips press against hers in a soft kiss. It's hesitant at first, giving her the option to pull away. You see her eyes flutter shut, shaky hands wrapping around your neck. She whines quietly, wanting more. Her fingers slip down and hook onto your belt loops, pulling you in and deepening the kiss. Your tongue is soft and warm in her mouth, sliding against hers as you press her further into the wall. She shivers when your cold hands caress the warm skin of her lower back. 

Ellie's head goes fuzzy at the feeling of your thigh slotting in between her legs. Her hips seem to have a mind of their own as she slowly rocks back and forth on it, the seam of her jeans giving just enough friction to provide some relief. 

Her soft mewls and the wet sounds of your mouths fill the air. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realizes you two are still outside, where anyone walking by can see. You need to go inside. She just can't find it in her to care at the moment. 

Hands slide from their place on your hips to cup your ass, squeezing harshly, drawing a groan from you. "Hmm. Do you wanna know how many times I've caught you staring at it?" You ask as your mouth pulls back to kiss down the column of her throat. Teeth nipping the soft skin there. Ellie laughs breathlessly in response, somewhat lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. The dazed look in her eyes sends a jolt of heat through you. 

"Ellie?"

The two of you rip apart at the sound of Joel's voice. He stands just outside of his back door, the concerned look on his face vanishes when he spots you and Ellie off to the side of the garage. 

"You two alright out there?" 

You want to laugh at the clear discomfort and amusement in his voice. "Fine Joel, just walking her home."

"Uh huh." He doesn't sound convinced. "Well, best get inside before the snow picks up."

"Right. Good night!" 

Ellie rushes to unlock the door, pulling you in and slamming the door shut. 

"How did you know?" She asks, playing nervously with her fingers. Her freckled face deliciously flushed. A love bite peeking through the collar of her hoodie. 

"You weren't good at hiding it. I had my suspicions." you giggle, intertwining your fingers with hers. "Dina also might have put in a good word. Said I would love you if I just got to know you better."

"And?"

"She was right."

[amywritesthings]

in the wrong. / levi x f!reader

for @levievent #levimonth24. (day one: pre-canon, first time)

pairing: gang leader!levi ackerman x military police!reader word count: 2.4k summary: You're Military Police. He's public enemy number one. Getting involved with one another is wrong.

tags: 18+ MINORS DNI! pre-aot, in the canon of 'a choice with no regrets', smut, enemies to lovers, military brutality mention, first time, bottom!levi, virgin!levi credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

And so it goes—

There’s no disputing if waiting here in the dead of night is right or wrong.

Leaving your post, forcing your colleagues to pick up the slack — it’ll catch up with you eventually.

Military Police stationed within the Underground City is about as much of an oxymoron as it comes. You see the irony of walking these streets as the symbols of order when it’s a place that thrives in disorder. 

Your superiors don’t wish to save these people.

You — your squadron — will do nothing here.

(But he could.)

Meeting with the leader of the most notorious gang in the city started out as an accident, really. 

You’d minded yourself down here, still trying to do your job when you could: helping elderly people walk their rotting groceries to their door; aiding a young child who found themselves lost, only to witness the dilapidated home they came from; smuggling your own rations down from the surface to feed the sick.

In their eyes — wrong.

In his — confusion.

If you ever came into contact with the perpetrator known as Levi, then you were meant to engage.

Albeit fast on his feet and even faster with a weapon, his ever-growing group of goons were the Military Police’s biggest enemy.

You’d just spotted a redhead doing her best to creep up one of the staircases towards the surface, assuming no one was watching.

There are people up there, you remember saying.

Her wide eyes stared back at you with uncertainty, like perhaps getting her attention was a trick to set her up, but you’d managed to grab her by the scruff of her dirtied vest.

The small girl made a noise of protest, but you did your best to press a finger to your lips:

Silent.

Pulling her back into the shadows with you had been the smart move — the unit at the top of the stairs trudged down the stairs and into the Underground pathway, presumably to cause trouble.

They always did.

You held onto the stranger until the unit disappears, letting go only once the place is clear. 

The girl turned around, seemingly breathless. “You… why?”

You didn't know.

“I don’t know,” you confessed, blinking between her face and the pathway. Paranoid. “Those two are pieces of work. Nasty. Would’ve had your damn head on a platter.”

“So you saved my life?” she asked, and the musical naivety of her voice squeezed your aching stomach.

“It wasn’t that noble,” you promised softly. “Just… be more careful.”

She realized as seconds pass: you’re letting her go.

There’s nothing to arrest her for.

The people down here suffer enough.

When she left, you thought it was the last time you’d ever see her.

.

.

— —

.

.

  It isn’t.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “The hell is an MP doing here, Isa?” 

You can’t say. You’re not sure.

The redhead, a common recurring figure in your time patrolling the Underground, seems to have taken a liking to you when she surely shouldn’t.

Isabel Magnolia, you learn, is her name.

Talking to you about her life, asking questions about the surface, wondering if there’s a better life up there—

She’s a part of a found family she definitely shouldn’t be telling you about.

You explain that, while the sun is beautiful, the surface isn’t much better sometimes.

If there’s a better life, then clearly you wouldn’t know it.

You’re stuck down here, too, whether you’d like to admit it or not.

Perhaps by choice — you enlisted for a reason — but nonetheless stuck.

She’s so cheerful. Trusting. 

You hate that for her.

(Someone could take advantage. Doesn’t she know that?)

Yet when Isabel grabs your hand one day and excitedly pulls you down an alleyway, telling you she has to show you something, you wonder if this is the moment where your stupidity catches up to you with a final blow to the head.

So it begs the question while you’re standing in an oddly pristine, clean-to-the-edges apartment in the middle of the city where two boys stare at you like you’re the devil incarnate:

What the hell is an MP doing here?

An ashy-haired boy yelps from his spot at a round dining table, catching a second dark-haired boy’s attention. He whips around, the whites of his eyes growing while he stares directly at you.

Immediately you recognize the cold stare, the raven-black fringe sweeping against them.

A smaller frame for a man but nevertheless daunting.

Billowing white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His hands are busy scrubbing dishes at the sink of their quaint kitchenette.

The one they call Levi.

“This is the girl who saved me a few months ago,” Isabel chirps like it’s nothing, happily tugging you further into the apartment.

Your uniform feels constricting, like it’s threatening to choke you out.

“You never said it was a goddamn MP, Isa,” the lankier boy whisper-shouts as he stands from the table, his head whipping between the other two. “Levi? The hell do we do?”

Levi’s silent, observing you.

“Isabel, I should go,” you murmur to your odd friend, looking over the ginger warily. “They’re right. I shouldn’t be here.”

“But why not?” Isabel asks with confusion. “You’re not like them. Furlan, she’s really not, she’s actually really—”

“You’re the one who saved her ass from MPs?”

Levi’s voice, smooth like honey and deep like a rumble, cuts through your panic.

You turn your chin to regard him, lips parted with an apology you shouldn’t owe.

“She was getting too close to the stairwell,” you confess softly to him, clenching your fists at your sides. “I know how the MPs treat people down here. I didn’t — I couldn’t let something happen to her.”

“Why?” he asks abruptly, eyes narrowing.

Isn’t that the question of the hour:

Why are you trying to get yourself fired and tossed down here with the rest of them?

“Because it… was the right thing to do.”

He makes a noise, something of a tch, before picking up a fourth tea cup.

.

.

— —

.

.

  If your colleagues knew you spent the better part of your shifts in the Underground talking to their number-one public enemy, with your backs against adjacent brick walls — you facing the street, him in the shadows of an alleyway — they wouldn’t hesitate.

Execution style, side by side.

You confess the routes of your brethren.

You warn them of the dangers of different colleagues that want nothing more than to hurt people, to use their position of power for worse.

It takes time — months upon months — but eventually his group grows stronger than your unit.

They could very well kill you themselves, if they wanted.

Maybe you’re like Isabel with the desperation to connect.

Maybe you find yourself hating the animals your colleagues become under the guise of an endless night.

Levi meets with you weekly, if not daily, by this point.

For the good of his friends, he claims. Nothing more.

You don’t blame him.

(Yet the more you talk to him, learn about what he’s built, what he’s about, the less you feel like returning to the sun.)

.

.

— —

.

.

  He likes tea.

That much you’ve gathered in your time sitting in the living kitchenette of their apartment.

You’ll never forget the change in his expression, usually so stoic and emotionless, when you produced a small bag from under your emerald cloak late one evening.

“The traders down here don’t carry these blends,” you tell him, pushing the bag towards him.

His eyes squint, observing the brown pouch with confusion, before reaching to delicately unravel the tie holding it together.

Levi lets out a gentle huff when the aroma hits him, face smoothing with recognition.

Fresh leaves. 

“Why?”

It’s a question you’ve even asked yourself.

You get things for Furlan and Isabel all the time, their requests for surface goods fairly frequent, but—

“Because you never ask for anything,” you confess. “And it’s the least I can do.”

“But why?” he questions again, softer this time.

His gaze flickers to yours.

Your throat clenches with the truth.

“I don’t know.”

A lie.

.

.

— —

.

.

  You’re meant to be patrolling the streets of the Underground City in the dead of night.

Another lie.

All you’ve learned to do is hide, steal, and lie.

Yet nothing feels closer to the truth than Levi letting you into the small, cramped apartment.

Opening his home to you.

The enemy.

“Furlan and Isabel are elsewhere tonight,” he confesses under his breath when he closes the door.

“Elsewhere?” you ask him quietly. “Are they safe?”

“You would know if they weren’t.”

You step forward, anticipating the same song and dance you’ve played for over a year now.

Instead of dancing with you, playing the game, Levi stays put. 

It forces you chest to chest, eye to eye, and suddenly you realize just how blue those gray eyes really are.

Stormy, like a sky he’ll never see.

Something shifts in his expression. Something lighter, tangible, as he takes a slow inhale through his nose.

You shift on impulse, angling closer, until you feel the heat of his face.

“Can’t,” he states, like you know what he’s saying.

By now, you do.

“I know,” you whisper, and those eyes dart lower.

Cheeks.

Nose.

Lips.

“Shouldn’t,” he argues to no one but himself when he leans closer. 

His breath tickles your face.

“Wrong,” you agree, accidentally brushing your lips to his.

A single act opens the floodgates.

Both pairs of hands jump as your lips smash into one another’s.

His palm cradles the back of your head while yours guides his cheek closer, directing the angle of the kiss.

With a purposeful push, he slams you into the front door, caging you in and causing stars to flash behind your eyelids.

You’re already undoing the straps of your uniform with haste — he may have stolen ODM gear in the time you’ve known him, but you’re not confident he knows how to disrobe a military uniform.

He seems grateful, because he grunts against your lips and flicks his tongue against your lower lip in thanks. You part your lips obediently.

Can’t, but you’re still hopping up into his arms the second you free your lower half of white uniform trousers.

Shouldn’t, but he catches you with ease, digging his free hand into the flesh of your ass while he pivots and walks with you in his arms.

Wrong, but he drops down to his couch anyway, letting you sit in his lap.

There’s no time for decorum.

His hand blindly dips down your lower belly and slips under the fabric of your panties, groaning when he realizes you’ve been wet since you saw him.

You make the tiniest noise, a strangled moan at best, and you feel it right against your lips:

A smirk. 

Brief and fleeting, but you felt it.

Lazily dragging his fingertips in a circle around your clit, your breath becomes stagnated. Shaky.

Your bare thighs clench around his, trying to keep your wits about you, but his hand only proceeds faster to ruin those efforts.

“Off,” you weakly state, reaching between you to pathetically tug at his own trousers.

Levi pulls away from your mouth, staring up at you in his lap. “That’s—”

“What I want,” you interrupt, and you see his throat bob with a swallow.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, and it feels like the closest you’ve ever gotten to knowing the essence of him.

“You don’t have to,” you promise. “I do.”

Once, fumbling at the cadet barracks.

It was awkward and quick and unremarkable.

Yet the way Levi’s eyes widen with recognition, you already know this is what you want — him, every fragment of him, hidden away from the world.

Pushing him to the couch cushions, you raise your hips to help him push down his trousers and underwear.

His cock springs free and his hisses at the contrast of the cool air and his hot skin.

You take advantage of the moment, wrapping your hand around him.

The way he whines when your hand leisurely pumps will be burned into the back of your skull.

“Are you sure?”

His question manages to weave itself through the hazy maze of your mind.

Glancing down at him, you note how flushed his cheeks have become; how his chest rises and falls under that flowing white shirt. He looks utterly wrecked without having to do much of anything.

“Are you sure?” you ask in return, giving your answer rhetorically.

Panting, the dark-haired boy nods.

Certain.

So are you.

“Just touch me,” you tell him, and Levi leaps at the damn opportunity to do so.

He raises up from the couch to loop his palm around your neck, dragging you down with him into a searing kiss. You moan into it, gently nudging the tip of him to your entrance.

When his hand returns to your clit, eager to draw those noises out of you, it only makes it that much easier to slowly push yourself down onto his length.

Both of your mouths drop open, wide with a soundless shout, as you ease him fully into you.

Wrong.

Over and over, the word plays in your mind.

Levi groans as you drag your body up, then down, beginning a tentative rhythm.

Wrong.

Nothing fills you like him.

Nothing fills you like this.

He lets you set the pace as you fuck him on his couch, the sounds of your pleasure mixing in the midnight air.

Faster.

Harder.

His hand grips your hip so hard it could leave a bruise.

You don’t care.

He groans a semblance of your name, something he rarely does, and squeezes harder.

Close.

If he’s never done this, then you know he won’t last long.

With your own climax coming at you with a vengeance, you can’t find a reason to care.

Suddenly you feel it — the wave rises so fast and falls that you don’t have time to warn him.

Within seconds you cum around him, violently shuddering around him as you cry against his mouth.

The sheer force of it causes Levi to gasp sharply, hips slamming abruptly into you so he’s buried deep—

He doesn’t have time to warn you, either.

He cums just as hard, sealing the loud moan with a kiss to your lips.

You still your hips, spent — his arms catch you when you crumble against his chest, desperately trying to catch your breath.

You’ve passed it: the point of no return, forced to confront a choice with no regrets.

The aftermath, euphoria clouding judgment, hasn’t quite hit yet.

Wrong.

(Neither of you care.)

.

author's note:

Thank you so much for reading! This one shot was unbeta'd and written in two hours so I hope this insane "I woke up with this idea and really wanted to participate" story made you as sweaty as it made me this morning.

[totheblood]

all-american bitch!

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: mostly fluff, cursing, suggestive themes maybe.

a/n:i wrote this for my monthly challenge in our writing server, so if you see GUTS themed ellie and abby fics... that's why.... so i chose the song, all american bitch because i thought it would be a difficult write and wanted to challenge myself. so this one is a little shorter and i hope you enjoy! AI AUDIO in the fic also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 1k

"with perfect all-american lips."

ellie wanted to hate you.

with every fiber in her being, she wanted to hate you. but as she sat in the student center, laptop open and earbuds in, she couldn’t help but stare. from her place at the table she could see you wide-eyed and grinning, talking to a group of people she didn’t know. when you laughed you touched the shoulder of the guy to your right, but when you smiled you leaned into the girl to your left. she noticed how you looked at people when they spoke, hanging onto every word they were saying. every time the group would laugh at a joke or statement you made, she watched as you nervously fiddled with the necklace loosely hung around your neck with your initial on it. 

she wanted to hate you but she didn’t. instead, she hated everything she thought you represented. the mean girls in the movies or the girl next door. you were somehow all of it wrapped up in one. she didn’t know you at all but somehow you were the perfect all-american -

“bitch!” a girl sitting across from you screamed, throwing her full cup of coke onto your face, causing everyone to stand up and gasp. ellie stood up with them, removing her headphones and ignoring the pull of dina’s hand, asking her what she was doing. 

you wiped the sticky liquid from your eyes, and tried to get as much of it off your face so you could walk back to your dorm. when you began picking up your things and noticed no one was going to follow you, ask if you were okay, or defend you, a tear formed in your eye. you, however, was determined to not cry in front of most of the people that attended this school. instead, you scurried off as quickly as you could.

ellie didn’t even notice she was following you till the brisk fall air hit her face. your feet were moving faster than her mind was going, but she was determined to catch up. 

“hey,” she called out. you didn’t turn around though, you just kept walking. from where she was she could hear your sniffles, “hey! are you okay?”

that got your attention. you stopped, not turning around, and waited for ellie to circle around you and say something.

“are you okay?” she asked again, watching your stunned face. she ignored the bubbling in her stomach at being this close to you. she could see every detail of your face, every crease, every freckle, and every pore. you were prettier up close, “i saw what happened back there… it looked brutal.”

“i’m,” a tear slipped from your face and onto your already damp clothes, ellie was sooooo not looking at your tits right now, “i’m fine.”

“are you sure?” she asked again, eyes searching your face for an answer, “none of your friends came to check on you?”

“i guess they aren’t really friends, huh,” you laughed dryly, wiping at your eye again.

“just shitty ones,” she joked back, “look, do you want me to help you get cleaned up? maybe you can vent to me about whatever the fuck that just was.

your eyes scanned her face this time, “why would you do that? you don’t know me?”

“i think you may be in need of some new friends,” she smiled, making you crack a small one.

“very true.”

------

ellie helped wipe the coke off your face and neck. since it had been sitting on your skin for a while it had gone sticky, and you were getting choked up trying to wipe everything off. plus, ellie was so nice and tender, gently rubbing at your skin and making sure she wasn’t rubbing to hard. she held your face in her hand, turning it and using your roomates expensive facewash to get it clean. when it came to your chest she backed up, saying a, “i shouldn’t.”

“why?” you asked, “we’re both girls.”

“i think i’m supposed to ask you out on a date before doing that.” she chuckled, stepping back a little further, expecting rejection, a slap in the face, anything.

“oh,” you said, eyeing her up and down, head-turning and lips pursed when you saw her tattoos, “could have figured from the tattoo alone.”

“hey! are you saying my tattoo makes me look gay?” she laughed, a big bright smile on her face. this time when you smiled you showed your teeth. ellie’s face turned a bright red, as she looked down. she made you smile, she was proud of that.

“it’s a dead giveaway that you’re gay,” you giggled again. ellie looked up at you, squinting her eyes. 

“if you knew that i was gay then, why did you let me come in and?” ellie’s voice got quiet, she didn’t want you to think she was a creep. it’s not like she came in here to flirt with you, or did she. the way you were looking at her was making all her thoughts mesh together into slush.

“i don’t know,” your voice was teasing, you were fucking teasing her, “maybe i wanted a cute girl to come in here and clean me up.”

“cute?” ellie laughed.

“yeah, cute,” you repeated, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, “like how you’re blushing right now. that’s cute.”

ellie’s face got even redder somehow, causing her to hang her head and pinch the bridge of her nose, “fuck.”

“were you going for hot?” you asked, reaching for her from your place on the bathroom counter, pulling at the sleeves of her oversized t-shirt so she would move closer to you. 

“what about my t-shirt doesn’t scream hot?” she looked up now, and fuck was she close to you. 

“cute and funny,” you smiled, eyes bright, “who would’ve thought?”

ellie looked away again, flustered still, but still in your grasp, “you forgot respectable.”

you laughed and ellie was close enough to feel your breath on her neck. she shivered, but her eyes met yours again.

“when are you going to ask?” you whispered, voice low.

“what?”

“the date?” you clarified, making her smile grow again.

“oh, yeah,” she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, “do you want to go on a date with me?”

“yes.”

[mermaidsirennikita]

I gotta say this is also very unsuprising casting when you think about it. Like as soon as the shock had worn off I was like...yeah of course she cast them.

Oh yeah, it does make sense because Emerald isn't about what's good for the project, Emerald is about what makes Emerald happy. Which is why I fundamentally can't get into her creatively.

Because of course, any creative has their aesthetic, their sensibility, their work. And I respect that, as a creative.

But you also have to kill your darlings. And we think of that in the writing sense most often—cut that sentence, that scene, that chapter if it doesn't truly serve the work. Scrap the whole thing and start over if it's truly not what it should be.

I'm a STRONG believer in that, to be fair. Brutal. Maybe too much so? Lol. Or I'd have a book out by now.

But anyway, it applies to every type of creative work, imo. You don't cast someone because YOU like them, particularly in an adaptation of a work as iconic as Wuthering Heights. You cast them because they are right for the role.

Heathcliff and Cathy, especially Heathcliff, are two of the most groundbreaking and influential characters in literature of the past 3 centuries. Heathcliff's lack of proximity (for his era) to whiteness is particularly central to the role, and I don't know anyone who seriously takes this work apart and isn't like... actively racist... who interprets Heathcliff as white. It's so crucial to his character that he is "other" in his society.

It's just TRULY a shame to me that she not only cast someone as subpar as Elordi, but someone so, so white. Like, I wouldn't want a white actor I love to play Heathcliff. And this is a fabulous role for a man of color, too.

The last adaptation did cast a man of color, but it was frankly not a very high profile project and not well done.

(I also think it would be compelling to cast a man of Roma descent OR a man of Asian, specifically South Asian descent because the text literally uses a contemporary term for Indian men to describe him... Though Nelly also speculates that he has Chinese heritage, and there are definitely some implications that he could be descended from presumably African enslaved people. The latter I could definitely see being an interpretation when you factor in the speculation that he's Mr. Earnshaw's illegitimate child. I think there's always this idea that "catch-all" terms were probably being used to describe Heathcliff's appearance, but I've thought for a while that I would personally most love to see a Roma actor or a South Asian actor play him.

But like. Literally any other than a white guy.)

This will be much more high profile, with way more attention, and it just really sucks that Emerald decided to use it to push one of her faves. It tells me that she has very little respect for the text. On what planet would anyone, even in the 1800s, look at Jacob Elordi and think that he was anything other than a white guy.

And again, I think Margot is way too old to play Cathy, and honestly doesn't read in any way as Cathy to me. I say that as someone who, again, considers her a very strong actress when she's in her element. I just. Ugh.

[flemingsfreckles]

Don’t Be Sad

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: based off of this request. You take your kids to watch their mom play in the gold cup semifinal.

Warnings: upset Jessie, not really angst though

WC: 4.8k

A/N: okay, so the timeline here is all kinds of messed up in terms of how old Jessie is, the fic revolves around the US/CAN game but she obviously doesn’t have kids already so just go with it. It’s called fiction for a reason. This is also my first attempt at writing based off a request/an idea that my brain didn’t come up with.

“James, slow down please.” You hollered at your oldest child as he ran a couple of feet ahead of you. You watched as he stopped immediately in his tracks as if he had been frozen in place. The brown curls on his head bouncing slightly. Once you catch up to him you extend your hand out for him to hold.

“You have to be careful, you can’t be running ahead, there’s a lot of other people here.” You often took your kids to watch Jessie’s games, but most of the time they were not this busy. The stress of temporarily having to operate as a single mom with an almost 3 year old and 1 year old was building on you. Your wife would not be thrilled to learn you let one kid run off 20 minutes after arriving at the stadium.

“Sorry, just want to see Mama.” He said, reaching up to grab onto your hand.

“I know kiddo, we’re going to see Mama, but after her game remember, we can’t go talk with her before. Remember what I told you in the car?”

“Mama’s at work and is warm.” He tried his best to remember what you had told him about how Jessie wouldn’t be able to talk to you before the game. You had explained that she would have to warm up and be focused and ready for the game. Trying to explain that the field was her work and she wasn’t allowed to just come hang out.

“Mama!” Your one year old daughter, Nora, squealed, waving her hands in the air. You were holding her on your hip, not wanting her to get trampled in the busy stadium, also not fully trusting her minimal walking skills. She had recently started taking a few steps alone, and while holding the hand of you or Jessie, she could walk for a bit. A crowd of people was not the time to practice walking.

“Yes baby, Mama’s at work. We can see her after the game.”

Gripping your son’s hand tightly you continued to make your way to the friends and family box that the Canadian Team had set up for the Gold Cup Match. You didn’t love being in the box, it made you feel far away from the game. You liked being up close being able to see your wife playing just a couple meters away. Not being able to complain too much though, it was so much easier with the kids to be in the box, they were free to roam safely and could occupy themselves with other activities if they were too restless to sit and watch Jessie play. It was also nice on afternoons like tonight where the weather was brutal, you were able to stay nice and dry.

You checked into the box, grabbing some juice boxes for each of your kids. You looked around, you had gotten to the stadium pretty early, meaning the box only had a few other people in it already. You moved to the corner with a small table, setting down Nora, and pulling out a chair for James to sit as well. You rummage through your bag, pulling out some toy dinosaurs and cars for James and a stuffed moose than Jessie had gotten for your daughter before she left for the World Cup. Nora insisted it went everywhere she went so you had to bring it with. Placing their juice on the table as well you stood up, looking over the field. You spotted your wife, doing some dribbling in a space all by herself. Not being able to help yourself, you watch her for a second before you feel a hand on the back of your shoulder and a voice calling to you.

“There’s our favorite daughter-in-law!” Jessie’s parents had arrived, her mom standing behind you, arms out for a hug.

“I’m your only daughter-in-law.” You remind her as you move into her arms. Jessie’s father, already kneeling down to talk with your children, opts to give you a wave, you reply with a wave and a quick hello before he goes back to playing with a dinosaur.

“How are you? How are the kids? I feel like we haven’t seen you in forever. What has it been 6-7 months?” She asked.

“Something like that.” The last time you had seen the Flemings was when they had come to visit after the World Cup. “The kids, they’re good. They’ve definitely been keeping me on my toes these days especially while Jess has been away for this tournament. They still haven’t grasped the concept that this is Jessie’s work though. James kept asking when he could see her, it’s just hard to explain at that age, they think she’s just playing like they do in the yard.”

“Yeah I can imagine they don’t quite get it,” Jessie’s mom trailed off turning to watch her husband with his grandchildren. You both stand for a minute watching Jessie’s dad who now had your daughter in his lap, still holding a dinosaur in one hand, play with your kids. “Gosh they both look so much like Jess when she was that age.”

Your children were practically spitting images of your wife. They were, after all, biologically her babies. You and Jessie had decided to do reciprocal ivf after careful consideration. Together you had chosen that you would be the one that would carry them, not wanting to take Jessie away from her career and love for football, meaning the kids would be genetically related to Jessie while you carried them for 9 months, letting you both be a part of their creation. Who could say no to the idea of little versions of Jessie running around, not you.

Both having her brown hair, James' hair had started to show the soft waves that resembled Jessie’s. They both had big brown eyes, which they used to get their way with you. It was hard to say no to them when looking into their eyes reminded you of the woman you were so infatuated and in love with.

The resemblance was obvious at birth with their beautiful eyes looking up at you and Jessie as you held them for the first time. The first time you really recognized how much they all looked alike was one afternoon when you got home from work, you walked into an empty house calling for Jessie and getting no response. It was then that you had heard giggling and joyful screaming coming from the backyard. You walked out to watch as Jessie chased James around the yard, following him with the garden hose as Nora sat on her hip. It seemed they had been playing in the sprinkler all afternoon, all 3 of them soaked. You stood on the deck and watched, just admiring your family for a second before Jessie caught a glimpse of you. She dropped the hose to come say hello and proceeded to hug you, soaking your clothes in the process. Your kids followed and you saw all three of them with the freckles that covered their pink rosy cheeks, just another trait they had gotten from their mother.

The game started shortly after, you had taken a seat on a bench with Jessie’s dad, your son seated between the two of you and your daughter crawling across your lap. You weren’t always the most relaxed watching your wife play. Watching her play was so fascinating and you loved watching your wife play the game she loved so much, but it stressed you out. She always joked to you that you were more nervous than her and all you had to do was watch. Today you were extra anxious. Not only was this a knockout game, but the pitch conditions were horrendous. Everytime Jessie would go for a ball you were just hoping she didn’t slip and end up injured. The US took the lead 20 minutes in, only adding to your anxieties. Halftime came and went, Canada still down. It wasn’t until only 10 minutes were remaining that Canada tied it. You had jumped up and shouted in response to the goal, watching Jessie jump on top of Jordyn in her celebration. You watched as full time played out, ending in a tie. You stood up excusing yourself to use the restroom, leaving James and Nora with their grandparents.

Extra time began just as you returned to the box, you made your way to the table in the back of the room to grab a water bottle and turned back to face the pitch. The sight in front of you warms your heart. It even takes away the stress of the game for just a moment. There were your two children, Nora sitting on Jessie’s mom’s hip, you watched as she babbled at her grandmother, only a couple of the sounds coming out being actual words, but Jessie’s mom was responding as if she was having a complete conversation. James was sitting on his grandfather's shoulders, watching and listening closely as his grandpa pointed and tried to explain the game to him. You and Jessie, mainly Jessie, had tried to teach him but that’s hard to do with a just under three year olds attention span. All he wanted to do was roll the ball around with his hands. You had joked that he’d grow up to be a keeper.

What really tugged at your heartstrings was the assortment of jerseys that all had on, a mix of new and old and a mix of home and away. Your wife’s family name on all of them, which was now your last name too, displayed proudly across the back, her number sitting just below. You felt so lucky, you felt lucky everyday with Jessie, but even in a moment when she is caught up elsewhere, you feel her love and everything she had brought you in this life. Two beautiful children, an amazing set of in-laws, the chance to experience things you could’ve never imagined. Thinking about how adorable it was you grabbed your phone and snapped a photo to show Jessie later.

The anxieties came back as you returned to your seat on the bench. You couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Jessie parents seemed watching their daughter play, maybe it just came with decades of experience that you didn’t quite have yet.

You watched as overtime continued. Feeling upset when the US scored again, only to feel ecstatic when Canada tied it up. Before you knew it, overtime had expired and the game was moving on to penalties.

You watched as the US player made her penalty, followed by a miss by Canada. A goal and another miss had happened for the Canadian side before your wife took the ball and headed to the penalty spot. The US having scored three of their four penalties taken meant if Jessie missed, the game was over, but if she made it they would keep kicking.

Watching Jessie, or any player, take penalties was one of your least favorite parts of football. You always felt bad if a player missed but then you also felt bad for the keeper if it went it. Jessie had laughed when you told her, claiming you just weren’t competitive enough, when it’s your team on the line you don’t feel sorry for the other side. You had told her that your competitiveness only applied to her and whatever team she played for, other than that you were more of a ‘hoe everyone has fun’ type person. You asked Jessie about how it’s such immense pressure being put on just one person on each team and how it feels to be in that spot. Penalties usually didn’t bother your wife, everyone knew it, she had been a penalty kicking machine most of her career. The pressure on her shoulders everytime she steps up, being expected to make it every time, no questions asked, is not something you ever wanted to feel.

You watched her line herself up, placing the ball. Seeing this routine done more times than you could count you had memorized her behaviors. You knew each of her steps before taking it, asking one day in the backyard to explain it to you as she was practicing. Your hands came to rest on your knees that were anxiously bouncing.

She stepped back, took a deep breath and started toward the ball. And then it was dark.

You had shut your eyes, not intentionally, it just happened. You didn’t see the kick, you only realized that it must not have gone in when the crowd erupted in cheers. You slowly opened one eye, peeking as if it’ll change what had just happened. First you see the US team running, dog piling on top of one another. Second seeing Jessie, her head hung, walking toward the bench, shaking her head, brushing off the teammates attempting to console her. Feeling your heart sink for her, knowing just how upset she must be.

“Mom why are they hurting each other?” Your son tugged your hand. He pointed at the pile of US players on the field.

“They’re not hurting each other, they’re celebrating kiddo, they won.”

“But Mama supposed to win.” His eyebrows pinched together, confused looking up at you.

“Well honey that’s not how it always goes, do you remember watching the World Cup?” You hadn’t actually let them watch the games live due to the timing of them but you had put them on during the day letting them watch their mom play. “Mama’s team didn’t always win, right? That’s what happens sometimes. And sometimes that makes her sad. She might be a little sad when we go to talk to her, okay?” He just nodded back at you.

As the stadium cleared out, you and Jessie’s parents, each of them holding one of your kids hands, headed down to the base of the pitch. Jessie was making her rounds, thanking the Canadian fans for coming, signing autographs and taking photos. You loved how even after a tough game she made time for those who came to watch her play. You watched as she continued to make her way headed toward you, not seeing you yet.

“Mama!” James shouted pointing at Jessie. “Mama, hi!” His hand waved in her direction. Hearing her son's voice, Jessie’s head snapped to the side with a smile on her face as she saw her family, you, her kids, her parents all standing together waiting for her. Giving a quick wave to James she turned her attention to the young fan in front of her. She finishes greeting and chatting with the few fans between you and her. As she wanders over, her eyes meet yours for a second and while she isn’t currently crying, you can see she must’ve been at some point. Her face has small tear streaks and eyes are a little red.

“Hi Mama, don’t be sad.” Your son says, making grabbing motions with his hands at Jessie.

“Hi buddy, I’m just a little sad right now, but I’ll be okay. I’m happy that I’m getting to see you and Nora.” She reaches over the wall, grabbing James and pulling him up and over, into her arms. She hugs him tightly and then puts him down at her feet.

“Mama, it's grandma and grandpa.” Your son points, as if Jessie hadn’t seen her own parents in front of her.

“Hi Mom, hi Dad.” She acknowledges them with a quick wave, knowing she’ll be able to fully catch up with them later tonight.

“Hi love.” She turns her attention to you.

“Hi,” moving toward her you reach over the wall giving her a quick peck on the cheek quietly talking in her ear . “I’m so proud of you, even if you don’t want to hear that right now. I love you.”

You pull back, hearing your daughter start babbling again, the words “Mom” and “Mama” coming out as she looks from you to Jessie. She’s standing both of her arms above her head holding onto her grandpa's hands

“You heard her, give me my baby.” Jessie laughs holding her arms out to take Nora. You bend down to pick her up and pass her into your wife’s extended arms. “Hi cutie,” she bounces her, making soft giggles come from her mouth.

You admired Jessie’s ability to put on a happy face for your kids, you knew she was upset about the loss, the lack of penalty called against her, her missed kick, the pitch conditions, but none of it showed as she held your daughter. She looked as happy as can be, as if she had just won the whole tournament. Even if it was a forced smile, you could tell it was, she still put forth the effort.

“Look at us all matching.” She’s talking to your kids. “Can you take our photo?” Now directing her question to you. She bends down to kneel next to her son, daughter still in her arms. She smiles big and tickles your son, getting him to laugh, his smile big in the photo.

“Oh man, we’re all matching. It looks like we’re going on a family reunion with matching shirts.” You see Jessie standing up looking between you and her parents. Everyone laughs at the realization, sure you knew you were all wearing her jersey but it being pointed out was humorous .

“Okay James I have to go, but I’ll see you later tonight okay?” Your wife is back kneeling down, talking to your son.

“Okay Mama, you did a good job at your work job today.” He tries his best to tell Jessie she played well. She looks at you with a questioning glance.

“I was explaining to him that this is your job, the game is work.”

“Gotcha.” She hands you Nora before lifting James over again. “I just have to do recovery. I think since we’re out we’re released as well so I don’t have to stay at the hotel. I don’t know I’ll find out though.” She quickly informs you.

“Alright babe, just shoot me a text and let me know. We’re just going back to the rental.” Deciding that more space and isolation would be better than a hotel with two small children, you had rented a small house for the week. It had a couple bedrooms and was perfect for letting the kids be free and not cooped up in a hotel.

You give Jessie a quick kiss on the lips, making it short and sweet your wife wasn’t big on PDA anywhere, let alone in front of fans and more importantly her parents. Jessie gave hugs to her Mom and Dad before saying goodbye to them as well.

All five of you headed back to the house, Jessie’s parents deciding to crash in the extra bedroom for the chance to see their daughter more than if they had gone to the hotel they had originally booked. It was only an hour later when the knock at the door told you Jessie had arrived.

Jessie’s dad greeted her at the door. You were occupied feeding Nora in the bedroom, while Jessie’s Mom was watching James while he ate. Through the cracked door you could hear your father in law talking to his daughter. He was telling her how proud of her he always is. You could tell she entered the kitchen as you heard James start talking to Jess. You knew her arrival meant he would be done eating, forgetting food was ever an option, just wanting to hang out with her.

“She’s in the bedroom feeding Nora, third door on the left.” Jessie’s mom was telling her daughter.

It was only seconds later that there was a soft knock on the door and Jessie peaked her head though. Her cheeks are still rosy from the game.

“Can I come in or do you want privacy?” Her concern regarding you being comfortable showing.

“Yeah babe, nothing you haven’t seen before, it just felt a little weird with your Dad there so I figured I’d feed her in here.” Nodding at her to come in. She opened the door to come through, closing it behind her. She moved next to you, placing a kiss on your lips, one on your forehead and grazing a hand across Nora’s head. She smelled of vanilla and coconut, freshly showered, her hair still wet.

“I love you, you’re such a good Mom.” She sits down on the bed next to you. Jessie loved watching you with the kids. She especially loved watching you do the more “mundane” tasks, like you were now, Nora resting in your arms as she fed, a task you had done hundreds of times. It felt incredibly intimate to share these small moments together and Jessie was so grateful that you let her be there.

Deciding this might be the only bit of time you get with Jessie alone, without your son or her parents hearing, you decide to check on her. Jessie isn’t the best about expressing her emotions especially in front of your son, she never wants to appear sad or disappointed. Nora was here but she was occupied and she was not yet at the age of picking up much from conversations that didn’t involve the words Mom, Mama, or milk.

“Are you doing okay?” Looking in her eyes, you see the beautiful brown color looking back at you.

“I’m disappointed.” She pauses before continuing, “it just felt like something we could’ve won.” Her head comes to rest on your shoulder and she lets out a sigh.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. Are you okay besides being just disappointed?” You wanted to make sure the missed penalty wasn’t weighing too heavily on her mental. Jessie knew exactly what you were asking.

“I think so, I chatted quickly with the sports psych while I was stretching about the penalty, I think missing the one earlier got in my head. I don’t feel much at all about it.” Nora decides she’s done feeding, pulling her mouth away and trying to squirm from your hold. “Here let me take her.” Jessie pulls her into her lap, allowing you to clean up and pull your shirt back down.

“It was really nice having you all there after the game.” Her voice was soft as she continued “it just made it hurt a little less getting to see them. They take my mind off the game so quickly.”

“They were both so excited to see you.” You wrap your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to your side. “I was excited to see you too.” Jessie hummed in response, her cheek still resting on your shoulder. You look down in her arms, your youngest was laying, her eyes fluttering as she fought off sleep. Moments later your son is knocking at the door.

“Mama, Mom come on, I want to play and make Mama not sad anymore” You open the door to find your son, a dinosaur in one hand and a small ball in the other. Jessie’s mom quickly following him down the hallway.

“Sorry, we were cleaning up the table from his dinner, we can take play with him if you two need some more time.” She reached out to move James away from the door.

“Oh, no we’re good. Nora’s about to be asleep.” You point back into the room where Jessie is sitting gently rocking your daughter. “We can come play.”

You and Jessie leave the bedroom, coming back to the living room to play with James. Jessie’s dad takes Nora who is sound asleep, claiming he doesn’t get to hold her nearly enough. You both sit on the floor as James hands you plastic animals and begins telling you both about the make believe scenarios he had come up with. You stay on the floor for a while, switching between the make believe world with your son and having regular adult conversations with your wife and in-laws.

Jessie is quiet, not contributing much to the conversation, focusing more on your son. Wishing you could just lift the weight off her shoulders and take away the disappointment she is feeling toward herself, you try your best to steer any conversation away from mentions of the game or football.

James lets out a big yawn as he makes his dinosaur trample a small city he had created.

“Someone’s sleepy.” You tease him.

“No I’m not!” He protests. Looking at you with his brown eyes, silently begging for more time. “Want to keep playing with Mama, it makes her happy.” Jessie shoots you a look, her eyes begging just like his were, mouthing ‘five more minutes’ her hand being held up to emphasize her point.

“Okay, but only a few more minutes bud. You and Mama can play in the morning.”

He seems content with the extra few minutes and the reminder that Jessie would be there in the morning and goes back to playing.

After the few minutes pass by, Jessie starts to clean up the toys, James helping her. You stand up taking Nora from her grandfather’s arms, she’s still fast asleep. You say goodnight to Jessie’s parents and carry your daughter into the office that you had turned into her temporary bedroom. Your kids had separate bedrooms at home and you wanted to keep it as similar as possible. Being able to move around Nora’s crib easily, meant James got the other bedroom in the house. You placed her softly, with a kiss on her forehead and a whisper goodnight. Jessie surprises you by wrapping her arms around your waist.

“She’s so perfect.” Jessie whispers in your ear. “You made two perfect babies.” She adds a kiss to your cheek.

“Technically you made them.” You whisper back to her, still looking at Nora sleeping.

“We both made them, those are our kids.” Humming in agreement, you feel Jessie grab your hand turning to leave the room. You enter James’ room, he had changed into his pajamas while you both were putting Nora down.

“Do you want Mama to tuck you in tonight?” You ask him, wanting to give Jessie the chance as you had tucked him in alone the past few days.

“Both!” He points to both you and Jessie. You each take a side of the bed as he climbs in. You tuck him in, each giving him a kiss and telling him you love him and to not let the bedbugs bite.

Finally back in your bedroom, you and Jessie get ready for bed, each making a trip to the bathroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, change into sleeping shirts and shorts. You come out to Jessie sitting on the edge of the bed, you notice tears on the brims of her eyes.

“Hey, baby what’s wrong.” Rushing in front of her, you kneel down, cupping her face in her hands.

“Nothing, I'm okay.” She blinks hard, clearing the tears that were tempted to spill over.

“Jess, it’s okay if you’re upset, you can be upset in front of me.”

“I know.” There’s a pause and you’re not sure if she’s going to continue or not. You watch as a tear manages to make its way out, rolling down her cheek, you extend your thumb to brush it away. “I just, I feel like I let people down. It’s silly I know, it’s a game, but, I don’t know. I’m just disappointed in myself.”

“It’s not silly Jessie.” Grabbing her hands in yours. “You’re allowed to feel however you want about the game, you’re allowed to feel disappointed. You have to remember you’re just doing your best. Just like everyone else in that game and everyone else in the world, you’re doing the best you can. That’s all you can do.” Not sure if she’s even really listening to your words but wanting to get your point across you continue, “Jess people miss penalties all the time. It’s how it goes, you weren’t the only one to miss tonight. This isn’t all on you. You played so well this whole tournament.” You stand up as your knees started to ache, Jessie was the professional athlete in this family, not you. Deciding to sit on the bed next to her you wrap an arm around her shoulder and lean in.

“I hope you know how proud I am of you.” Hoping she can accept the compliment, she nods at you. The two of you sit in silence on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, just enjoying the quiet after the long day. You’re reminded of something from earlier in the day, reaching for your phone on the bed next to you.

“I know it’s not going to fix how you’re feeling about the game, but look at this.” You slide open your phone, open your photos to show Jessie the image you took of her parents with your kids. “Look at our family.”

She grabbed the phone from your hand, examining the photo. For the first time since the game had ended you saw a genuine smile come across her face.

“That’s our family.”

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: Everything to Everyone (Intro)

track 2 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +750

》 I need the guts to go and give you up / 'cause I'll kill myself tryin' and I'm not scared of dyin'

“Qué es eso de que te vas?!” (What do you mean you’re leaving?)

Legit question, you think. One can leave so many places and in so many ways.

You can clearly read the shock in her naturally stoic face, usually unreadable for people who don’t have the privilege to orbit close to her heart.

Your head sinks, eyes too focused on your unlaced shoes to see Alexia taking a step toward you. But you sense her. And putting some more distance between the two of you is the only response you can give her right now.

She tries to make you look at her, she knows you can feel her pleading eyes desperately trying to lock into your darker ones, but you don't dare to. You will drop everything otherwise. 

“Alexia, please”

“No, no hace esto, ¡no lo digas así!” (No, don’t do it, don’t say it like that!), like she’s the one hurting you.

You take even more steps faraway from her frozen form, hitting with the back of your calves the sofa in the abruptly smaller house. You let yourself drop on it, sitting and rubbing the stiff texture of your jeans.

The catalan takes it as a sign of you being ready to explain whatever this is, to explain this epically huge misunderstanding. But your muffled sob makes it evident to her you need space, space from her.

Dropping your head into your hands is the only way you can think of to make them stop shaking so much.

You can’t let Alexia come closer, you can’t let her touch you in the way somehow capable of healing every aching part of your body and soul. You can’t glance at your lover, you can’t let her look at you the way she does when she needs you to understand the feeling she can’t communicate.

You just can’t.

However, when the blonde starts crying, silently as if not wanting to disrupt your breakdown; you’re sure.

Leaving truly is the only way.

“I got an offer”

“You got offers all the time”

“I asked for it”

You have known her for four years now, getting closer and closer with time passed and shared experiences.

Four years of studying all the finest details of the ways she acts and moves. Three years of falling asleep with your hand on her chest, her heartbeats as the only lullaby that can make you rest. Two years of heading to a future that appallingly looks a lot like the same for the both of you. One year of trying to tell yourself that nothing changed about the way you feel of your life here, of your life here with her.

You have known her for so long, so profoundly, yet this is the first time you meet this Alexia.

A truly, deeply broken Alexia.

And you’re the reason why.

“Tú lo pediste?” (You asked for the transfer?)

“Yes”

The captain moves slowly, dropping on her knees right in front of you and taking your hands in hers. She’s not shaking like you, but you can catch deep worry in her eyes. She’s the most scared she’s ever been. 

You beg every goddess and gods on earth and sky she doesn’t ask you to stay.

If Alexia asks you to stay, you’ll stay.

“Por qué?” (Why?)

She is not hiding her cries anymore and the brutal honesty of her feelings is something you will never get used to.

Something you will never forget.

“I need to leave”

“Me?”

“I can’t leave you, mi corazón”

The catalan closes her eyes and tries to calm herself down, her sudden shortness of breath alarming you. The term of endearment always gets her heart skip a beat, your broken accent somehow making it even more special.

“Me estás dejando” (You’re leaving me)

“I’m not, I’m not leaving you”

Your hands unties from hers, moving fast to hold her face before she panics. You study your lover’s distinctive features one more time, one last time. You know you will never forget her, but you can’t take any chances now.

The older girl closes her eyes, letting even more tears fall. When you gently caress them away with your thumbs, smiling softly, she knows this is a goodbye.

“No puedo dejarte, Alexia” (I can’t leave you)

You kiss her, one more time.

“Voy a dejar Barcelona porque no puedo dejar a ti” (I’m leaving Barcelona because I can’t leave you)

One last time.

[perfectsunlight]

[30] I, CARRION (ICARIAN)

warnings: heavy themes (depression, suicidal thoughts, emotional distress, family conflict, intense feelings of isolation) and public scrutiny.

DO NOT READ IF THESE THEMES ARE TRIGGERING FOR YOU.

jennie had always been afraid of falling. nothing good came from such an act. falling in love, falling out with friends, falling from fame. it was an act that symbolized the moment one became weak, vulnerable, and at the mercy of the world around them. and jennie kim had always prided herself on being anything but weak.

she had built her life, her career, and her reputation by standing firm. she had learned how to hold herself together when everyone else was falling apart. she knew how to stay on top—how to be untouchable. her world was one of carefully managed control, where every detail was scrutinized, planned, and executed to perfection. but the truth was, beneath that polished exterior, jennie was terrified of the one thing she couldn’t control: losing the people she loved.

falling, to jennie, wasn’t just a physical act. it was emotional, mental—it was the slow, creeping descent into something deeper and darker than she could manage. she had seen it happen too many times, to too many people. friends who had lost themselves in the chaos of fame. relationships that had crumbled under the weight of expectation. but nothing scared jennie more than the idea of falling away from the one person who mattered most.

ivory.

if the wind turns, if i hit a squall

allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

becoming a mother had changed everything for jennie. it wasn’t a decision she had made lightly. in fact, when she first found out she was pregnant, fear had consumed her like nothing she had ever known. she could handle the demands of being an idol, the grueling schedules, the intense scrutiny, the endless pressure to be perfect. but being a mother? that felt like a fall she wasn’t prepared for.

and yet, when ivory was born, it wasn’t fear that overwhelmed jennie—it was love. a love so intense, so consuming, that it redefined everything she thought she knew about herself. ivory became the center of jennie’s universe, the only person who could truly make her feel both grounded and weightless at the same time.

but with that love came a new kind of fear. 

jennie knew the demands of her life—the constant traveling, the public persona, the secrecy—would one day take its toll. ivory wouldn’t always be a child, oblivious to the world outside their small, hidden bubble. eventually, she would ask questions. she would want to know why jennie had kept their life a secret. she would wonder about her father, about the world jennie had shielded her from. and jennie feared that when that day came, ivory wouldn’t understand. she would see jennie not as a protective mother, but as someone who had kept her in the dark, someone who had hidden too much for too long.

i feel lighter than i have in so much time

i've crossed the border line of weightless

the more jennie thinks back, the more she concluded that this burning bridge started when her daughter was just a child. it started when jane would hide from her mother, the small habit becoming a sort of game between the two.

it began with those playful moments of hide-and-seek, when little ivory would giggle, darting away to find the best hiding spots—behind the sofa, beneath the dining room table, or even in the small space behind the curtain, her laughter ringing like chimes in the air. for jennie, it was a cherished game, one that solidified their bond and filled their home with warmth and joy.

“you know i’ll always catch you,” the idol had whispered to her daughter, her voice a playful mix of mock seriousness and warmth as she tried to pull a squirming toddler closer to her. the corners of her lips curled up in a smile, an expression of love that glimmered in her eyes like the soft glow of a sunset. ivory’s innocent laughter was a melody that echoed through the house, drowning out the worries of the outside world, the pressures of fame, and the relentless pace of her career.

in those moments, time felt suspended, and the burdens of life faded into the background. jennie had reveled in their little universe, a sanctuary built on shared secrets and unbreakable trust. they were a team, navigating the unpredictable waters of life together, her daughter’s tiny hand always reaching for hers, trusting that jennie would guide her through every storm.

but as the years slipped by, that innocence began to wane, replaced by the turbulent tides of adolescence. the once-cherished game transformed into a battleground of wills, where jennie found herself no longer seeking out her daughter’s hiding spots, but instead chasing shadows. each giggle that faded into the distance now felt like a reminder of what was lost, a haunting echo of the connection they once shared.

the playful laughter turned into hesitant sighs, and the hide-and-seek evolved into secrets tucked away in the corners of her daughter’s heart. where once she had run to jennie with open arms, she now retreated into her own world, a realm filled with friendships and experiences that jennie could only glimpse from afar. 

but jennie knew she had to be an idol first, she always had to be. but her heart ached to simply just be a mother.

one deep breath out from the sky

i've reached a rarer height now that i can confirm

all our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

ivory was the perfect baby girl. she always had been, even when she cried and kept jieun and jennie up for hours.

those late nights, filled with the sounds of wailing, never diminished the beauty of her daughter. each cry was a reminder of ivory’s fierce spirit, a testament to the life she brought into their home. the way she scrunched her little nose in displeasure or how her tiny fists waved in frustration were moments that painted a picture of pure innocence.

jennie often found herself mesmerized by the sight of ivory’s delicate fingers wrapping around her own, as if they were meant to fit together. even during the toughest nights, when exhaustion clawed at her, jennie would look down at her daughter and see perfection—the way ivory’s lashes fluttered softly as she finally drifted to sleep, or the gentle rise and fall of her tiny chest, filling jennie’s heart with a warmth that made every sleepless night worth it.

yet, amidst the laughter and joy, there lingered an undeniable weight in jennie's heart. she missed so much—missed first steps and the excitement of new words, the way ivory would proudly show her the drawings made in preschool, her fingers smudged with paint. with every missed moment, a piece of jennie’s soul felt like it was slipping away, replaced by guilt and longing.

but every time ivory saw her, she would run with open arms, too innocent to understand the world of obligations and the pressures that pulled her mother away. “mommy!” ivory would cry out, her voice bright as sunlight, wrapping her little arms around jennie’s waist. those moments made jennie’s heart swell, yet the ache of missed opportunities would linger like a shadow. 

how could her little girl forgive her for being absent during so many pivotal moments? how could she bear the thought of her daughter feeling alone when all she wanted was her mother close by? would she hate her when she was older?

however, despite it all, jennie would never forget the way ivory had changed her, even if she couldn't see it yet for herself. because it wasn’t just her experience and the industry that shaped her.

it was also ivory.

and though i burn how could i fall?

when i am lifted by every word you say to me

jennie remembered the day her daughter saved her life. 

it was the darkest time of her life, the media tearing every piece of her limb from limb. she had done her best, she had tried to kill them with kindness, but her mind had suffered far too much.  each headline was a knife, each article a reminder of her failures, her struggles, the weight of expectations pressing down on her.

it was late one evening, and the rain had poured down in sheets, mirroring the turmoil in her heart. she had found herself standing on the edge of the balcony, feeling the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. the city sprawled beneath her, a maze of lights that felt as distant as her hopes. the thought of jumping had crossed her mind—a moment of reckless abandon that almost felt liberating.

she hated falling, but maybe this time it would be freeing.

droplets of water soaked through her clothes, clinging to her shivering body. whether she shook from fear, the cold, or from crying, she couldn't tell. all she knew was that she was exhausted. she was tired of feeling like this. it would be so easy, so quick to just end it all. her members would be fine, the company wouldn’t suffer much of a loss. her mother would grieve and move on, and her daughter would be taken care of regardless. jennie was a bad idol, a bad person, and a bad mother. there was nothing left for her to try and be good at anymore. a lull of thunder groaned in the distance, the rain not letting up one bit. jennie’s clothes still hung off her form like wet rags, her body just as numb as her mind. with a deep breath, she made her decision. she took one step forward, than another, and then she was at the edge of the railing. her hands gripped the wet metal bar, feeling how easy her grip slipped. they could make it look like an accident. it would be a bit easier to digest for people that way.

but just as jennie prepared to let go of her anguish, a bright, cheerful voice broke through the raging storm outside and inside her mind.

“found you!”

startled, jennie turned slowly, her heart racing as she caught sight of a small figure emerging from the curtains of the doorway leading to the balcony. ivory, only five years old, stood there, beginning to become wet from the rain, her cheeks flushed with excitement. she was soaking wet but beaming, her eyes the same as her mother’s beaming with innocence.

“ivory,” jennie’s voice trembled as she stepped away from the edge, her heart pounding not just from fear but perhaps relief as well. “what are you doing out here?” she whispered, trying to comprehend how her daughter had found her. jieun had been sending the small girl home from school with a personal driver.

but this was jennie’s house, not her mother’s. that could only mean ivory had asked the driver to take her home to her, not to jieun.

jennie’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at ivory, the little girl’s presence pulling her back from the precipice of despair. the warmth radiating from her daughter felt like a lifeline, grounding her in the chaotic storm of her emotions.

“i found you!” the girl repeated with glee, the innocence in her tone cutting through the weight of jennie’s sorrow. in that moment, the world outside faded, and all she could see was her daughter—the embodiment of everything she loved, everything worth fighting for.

but as the reality of the situation settled in, so did the crushing weight of jennie’s anguish. tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling over as she dropped to her knees, unable to hold back the flood any longer. the sheer relief of seeing ivory, of having her here and safe, overwhelmed her senses.

“valentine,” jennie choked out, her voice trembling as she fell to her knees and pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace. she clutched the small girl tightly, burying her face in the soft fabric of her daughter’s damp clothes, feeling the warmth of her small body against her own. “oh, my sweet girl,” she sobbed, the tears flowing freely now, each one a testament to the fear she had felt just moments before.

jane wrapped her tiny arms around jennie’s neck, the innocence in her embrace radiating a comfort that began to mend the pieces of jennie’s shattered heart. “i thought you were hiding from me!” ivory exclaimed, her voice still light, filled with the joy of the game. 

“i’m here, sweetheart,” the idol admitted, her heart aching as she held her daughter closer. the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little, but the fear remained, echoing in the back of her mind. “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

ivory tilted her head, her brows furrowing with confusion. “why are you crying, mommy?” the young girl asked, her dark pigtails soaking with water and her face covered in droplets that reflected light like diamonds.

jennie felt a rush of conflicting emotions. her heart swelled with love, yet the fear of losing her daughter loomed like a dark cloud. “i’m just scared,” she whispered in reply, doing her best to try and not cry even more in front of her daughter.

but all the little girl did was smile up at her mother, the rain not causing her emotions to falter. “but i'm here, you don't have to be scared.” she pulled the idol in closer, and jennie never cried harder in her life.

if anything could fall at all, it's the world

that falls away from me

it had been two weeks since the incident happened and jennie had been fighting tooth and nail with her lawyers to sue those who dragged her daughter in the headlines. she didn’t care what they said about her. the idol didn’t care what they called her, or what they thought of her. all that mattered was ivory—all that had ever mattered was ivory. 

the thought of her daughter’s name being dragged through the mud ignited a fire within jennie, one that eclipsed her own anguish. she was ready to battle, ready to shield her child from the cruel world outside, a world that had become increasingly invasive and toxic. the whispers of judgment and disdain only fueled her determination.

no amount of scrutiny or scandal could diminish her devotion as a mother.

at night, she would lie awake, her mind racing with the words she would throw at the media, the statements her lawyers would issue. she replayed the interviews, the snippets of hurtful commentary, the careless remarks that had turned ivory into fodder for sensational headlines. it made her sick to think that people could be so cruel, so callous about a child who hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

during the days, she stayed busy, ensuring that every detail was managed, every angle covered. meetings, phone calls, legal documents—they all became her lifeline, a distraction from the gnawing worry that threatened to consume her. she felt like a warrior, fighting against an army of nameless faces and faceless voices, all bent on destroying the one thing that mattered most to her.

but in the quiet moments, when the chaos of the day settled, the weight of it all would come crashing down. in those stillness-filled nights, she couldn’t help but wonder how ivory was coping with the backlash. was she scared? confused? had she eaten?

“we need a statement from you,” her manager hesitantly brought up during their next meeting. “you haven’t confirmed your relationship to her yet. i think it is best if you say something officially.”

jennie felt a surge of frustration rise within her, an emotion too powerful to suppress. she stood in the dimly lit conference room, the soft hum of fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare on the glossy table that reflected her tense expression. dressed in a tailored black blazer that hugged her form and paired with fitted trousers, she exuded an air of professionalism, yet the sharp edges of her attire did little to mask the storm brewing within her.

“no.” the word sliced through the air, sharper than she intended, but she didn’t care. “this isn’t about me. it’s about ivory. i won’t put her in front of cameras until she’s ready. if she wants to make a statement, that’s her call.”

her manager frowned, shifting uneasily in his chair, the weight of their conversation heavy between them. he adjusted his tie, a nervous habit she’d come to recognize. “but the media won’t wait. the speculation is damaging. we need to control the narrative.”

“control?” she scoffed, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. the room felt constricting, the walls closing in as she thought about the tabloids ripping apart her daughter's innocence. “what control do we really have? we’re dealing with people who don’t care about the truth—only the drama. i won’t pressure her into speaking before she’s ready.”

she took a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the floor-to-ceiling windows, where rain streaked down like tears on glass. the dreary weather outside matched her mood, but she steeled herself, focusing on the task at hand. “i want to protect her innocence. if the girl chooses to speak, i’ll support her. but this decision has to come from her—not us. i won’t let them twist her words.”

silence enveloped the room, heavy with tension, as her manager hesitated, contemplating the implications of her words. “but jennie—”

“no,” she interrupted, her voice firm and unwavering, echoing off the stark walls. “i won’t make a statement without her consent. she’s been through enough. i want her to know she controls her narrative.”

her manager sighed, recognizing the resolve in her eyes—the fierce determination that set her apart from the fleeting glances of the world outside. “alright, but we need to prepare for the backlash.”

“let them come,” the idol replied without missing a beat, her voice steadying as a flicker of maternal instinct surged within her. “i’ll take whatever hits they throw. as long as none of them hit ivory.”

you have me floatin' like a feather on the sea

while you're as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath

jane had always been jennie’s strength. in her highest highs and her lowest lows, her daughter was always her anchor. each milestone in her career, every award and fashion show, was often celebrated with ivory in mind. every time jennie was whisked away for a new brand ambassadorship or invited to walk the runway, she meticulously picked out souvenirs that reminded her of the little girl waiting at home.

the delicate silk scarves from paris, the glittering hairpins from milan, the brightly colored baubles from tokyo—each item was a token of love, meant to fill the void of her absence. but soon, jennie started to notice a disheartening change. the excitement in ivory’s eyes dulled with each new gift, her small hands less eager to unwrap the carefully packaged tokens.

when the idol had moved into her own house, the distance between them became painfully clear. the new home was supposed to be a fresh start, a sanctuary filled with light and dreams. yet, as she unpacked boxes in the empty living room, reality settled heavily on her chest—ivory wasn’t going to be coming with her. her daughter would remain with jieun, it was safer that way. but even she knew it wasn’t just about safety, she had used that excuse too many times to believe it.

the day she officially moved out was the day everything changed. 

as she stood in her new kitchen, surrounded by gleaming appliances and fresh paint, the echo of ivory’s sharp voice felt like a distant memory. that morning, jennie had sat down and explained to her daughter what was going to happen. jane was only 8 at the time, and she was already becoming extremely aware of the absence of her mother.

it was also when the small girl began to stop calling her “mom.”

“why don’t you want to be with me?” jane had asked bluntly, small hands balled into fists as she watched her mother taping another box shut. the innocence in her eyes pierced through jennie’s heart like a dagger. it was a simple question, but the weight of it felt insurmountable.

“i do want to be with you, sweetheart,” the idol replied, forcing a smile that felt strained and hollow. “but this is what’s best for both of us right now. you’ll be safe with grandma, and i’ll be here working hard so i can give you all the nice things you deserve.”

“but i don’t want things,” the small brunette insisted, her voice rising with frustration. “i want you.”

the sharpness of the truth stung like cold water, and in that moment, jennie felt the walls she had built around herself begin to crack. she wanted to scream that she wished she could be with her every moment, but the words died on her lips. instead, she knelt down to her daughter’s level, trying to steady her trembling hands as she brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her forehead.

“i know it’s hard, but i promise, we’ll make this work. i’ll visit you all the time, and we can have fun together. we can make new memories.” the rehearsed phrases felt empty in the air between them, but she hoped they would comfort the little girl.

but even jennie knew her daughter had heard those empty promises too many times.

ivory’s eyes, devoid of any real emotion, searched her mother’s face for reassurance, but instead, they found uncertainty. the moment hung heavy, and as ivory blinked back her tears, jennie realized just how fragile their bond had become.

“i don’t believe you,” ivory finally whispered, her voice small but fierce. but as jennie watched her turn away, something deep within her cracked open, and the reality of her choices loomed larger than ever.

and she finally realized that her daughter was slowly slipping away from her.

once i had wondered what was holdin' up the ground

but i can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down

each of the pinks had taken turns coming over, but tonight, it was just rosé sitting across from jennie. the glow of the candles flickered softly on the coffee table, casting dancing shadows against the walls of the stylish parisian apartment. the faint scent of vanilla wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of the bustling city outside, a stark reminder of the world that felt both close and distant.

“what’s she like?” rosie asked gently, her tone laced with genuine curiosity as she observed jennie’s hunched figure on the plush couch, wrapped in an oversized hoodie that swallowed her whole. it was a cozy look, a comforting barrier against the chill of the night.

jennie’s gaze drifted to the candles, the flames reflecting the turmoil in her heart. there were so many words to describe her, and yet none of them were fitting enough. ivory was and always would be indescribable. “she’s everything.” the older girl whispered, trying to piece together her words. “she’s like poetry i’ll never fully understand. sometimes she’s the softest verse, the kind that makes you feel warm without realizing it, and other times she’s like the sharpest line, the one that cuts right through you.”

ivory had always been a melody jennie couldn’t stop humming. even when the world was too loud, when the pressures of fame felt like they were closing in, it was her daughter who reminded her what really mattered. how ironic was it? that the person who was her entire world was also the one holding it up. jennie had always known that getting to the top came at the expense of being there for ivory. she had built her empire on sacrifices, and the largest one was her absence from the moments that should have mattered most. each red carpet, each endorsement, each sold-out arena—they were the milestones of her career, but they were also the milestones of ivory’s quiet solitude.

it was upon her daughter’s small, unsteady shoulders that jennie’s world sat. the weight of it all pressed down on the girl, and jennie had given her the world and left ivory alone to hold it up.

leave it now, i am sky-bound

if you need to, darling, lean your weight to me

jennie didn’t know how many times she had called her daughter over the past weeks. ivory was eighteen now, legally an adult, but she would always be jennie’s little girl, no matter how much time passed. and that made it worse—because jennie knew her daughter was still too young to bear the weight of everything being thrown at her.

every unanswered call felt like another crack in the fragile bond between them. she had seen her daughter grow into this fiercely independent young woman, strong and capable, but jennie couldn’t shake the sense that she was crumbling beneath the pressure. the media, relentless as always, had turned their full attention to ivory. speculation, rumors, accusations—all aimed at her daughter, dissecting her life in the cruelest of ways.

jennie had faced that kind of scrutiny before; it came with the territory of being a global icon. but this was different. this was ivory, and jennie had no control over it. no way to protect her. all she could do was wait, hoping—praying—that her daughter would reach out.

the silence was suffocating. she had sent dozens of messages, her fingers flying across the screen in moments of desperation. ivory didn’t respond. not to her, not to jieun. her daughter was mia—not physically, they knew she was safe somewhere—but emotionally, she was unreachable. the longer the silence stretched on, the more jennie’s worry turned to fear.

what was she thinking? how was she handling the constant barrage of headlines, the ruthless commentary from strangers who had no idea what her life was really like? was she struggling alone, feeling abandoned? the thought of her daughter enduring all of this on her own made jennie feel physically sick. she had built her career on being strong, untouchable, but nothing could prepare her for the helplessness she felt now.

late at night, the older woman would find herself staring at her phone, willing it to light up with a message from ivory. she couldn’t sleep, her mind running through all the worst-case scenarios. what if ivory didn’t want to speak to her anymore? what if this silence was her way of pushing jennie out for good? it was a thought that haunted her, even though she didn’t want to believe it.

jennie had always been the one in control—the one with the answers, the one who made decisions. but now, she was at the mercy of her daughter’s silence. all she could do was wait, and it was tearing her apart.

we'll float away, but if we fall

i only pray, don't fall away from me

“have you talked to her?” the idol whispered aimlessly, leaning against the sofa cushion with her head propped on her elbow. jieun glanced over her shoulder, staring at her daughter. the older woman’s gaze softened as she took in jennie’s tired form, slouched on the sofa, her face half-hidden in the dim light. jennie looked like a shadow of herself—hollow-eyed, her usual resilience cracked and exposed, like glass splintered under the weight of her worry. she wasn’t the jennie kim that everyone knew—the one who faced cameras with a certain glint in her eye, who made the world bend to her will. 

no, this was someone far different—this was a mother, unraveling at the seams of her sanity.

jieun sighed softly, crossing the room with measured steps, each footfall silent against the plush carpet. she’d watched jennie navigate the peaks and valleys of fame, but never had she seen her like this. this wasn’t the guarded idol, the woman who could withstand scrutiny and judgment with a steely front. jennie was exposed, raw, with her vulnerability wrapped around her like a second skin.

“she’s safe,” jieun said gently, kneeling down beside the sofa, her voice as calm as she could manage. “you know she’s safe.”

jennie’s lips tightened as she looked away, her eyes lingering on her phone as if expecting it to vibrate at any second. she lost count of how many times she had kept checking her phone throughout the days. it was not completely out of her daughter’s character to be radio silent, but this type of silence felt far more dangerous. it was the kind of quiet that echoed loudly in her maternal mind, amplifying every worry and fear she tried to suppress.

“but she’s alone,” she murmured, voice thin and cracked. “again.” her biggest regret as a mother was being absent for so long in her daughter’s life. it was a regret that gnawed at her like a relentless hunger, an ache that twisted and turned, reminding her of every moment lost. 

the idol knew her mother would only understand somewhat, given she did help raise the girl in her absence. but jennie was her mother. ivory was hers. what if this silence meant something more? what if it signified that jane was falling away from her, slipping through her fingers like sand?

the rain pounded against the window, a steady rhythm that mirrored jennie’s racing heartbeat. outside, the world was drenched, streets shimmering with reflections of streetlights and the distant glow of the city. it was beautiful but also haunting, reminding her of every moment she had taken for granted—every hug, every laugh, every late-night conversation that now felt like a lifetime ago.

jennie’s voice was barely a whisper, more to herself than to her mother. 

“i just wish she would come home.”

i do not have wings, love, i never will

soarin' over a world you are carryin'

jennie remembered the last time her daughter called her “mom.”

she was in la for a quick trip with her members, the sun dipping low in the sky and painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink. laughter echoed around her as they wandered through the bustling streets of venice beach, the salty air mingling with the scent of fried food from nearby stands. she and her members were meant to be celebrating, living in the moment, but all jennie could think about was how far she was from her daughter.

as they strolled along the boardwalk, her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her from the moment. she pulled it out, her heart racing at the sight of ivory’s name flashing on the screen. but just as quickly, the excitement turned to dread; she hesitated, caught between the urge to answer and the noise of her friends. the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—it all felt so vibrant, so alive, and yet, it felt hollow without her daughter accompanying it.

finally, she silenced the phone, promising herself she would call her back in a minute. yet, in that minute, the moment turned into hours. the sun sank beneath the horizon, and by the time jennie returned to her hotel room, the buzzing of her phone had stopped. she pulled it out again, her heart heavy, and saw a voicemail notification blinking at her. she didn’t need to listen to know what it was—a stab of guilt pierced her heart.

after she settled onto the plush hotel bed, she pressed play, her stomach twisting as ivory’s familiar voice filled the room.

“hi,” ivory’s tone was soft, almost shy, like she was uncertain of how to navigate this unspoken chasm that had grown between them. “i don’t really know why i’m calling.” jennie felt a lump in her throat as she listened. this wasn’t the vibrant teenager she usually heard, full of life and excitement; this was a girl grappling with the shadows of her mother’s absence. there was a pause, the silence on the line heavy and stretching on as if ivory was wrestling with words that refused to come. 

 ivory spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she feared saying it too loudly might shatter whatever fragile hope she held.

“i miss you,” she murmured. “i mean, i know you’re busy. and i know it’s important… but i just” her words trailed off, dissolving into silence once more. there was a rawness in her voice, a longing that felt like it had been buried for too long, like it had clawed its way up from deep inside her, desperate to be heard. “i did something today. um…”

another beat of silence passed by before the younger girl let out a muffled chuckle, and the unmistakable sound of a sniffle.

“i don’t know what i’m saying.” jane added, her vulnerability in her voice hitting jennie like a punch to the gut. “i’m sorry for bothering you. have fun, mom.” the voicemail ended with a soft click, leaving jennie sitting in stunned silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her. 

later on, she would find out from jieun that was the day her daughter had gotten into hybe. and once again, jennie was halfway across the world for it.

jennie remembered the way she went to the bathroom and sobbed on the edge of the tub, fighting the urge to throw up. everything she had worked for, everything she’d sacrificed—it all felt so hollow in that moment, sitting on the cold tile floor of some high rise hotel in the city of angels.

what kind of mother was she? 

the thought echoed in her mind, relentless and unyielding. jennie gripped the edge of the tub as if it could anchor her, her fingers shades of her daughter’s name with the effort to keep herself steady. she had spent years building an image, carving a path to success and fame, but now, all of it felt like dust slipping through her fingers. she was idolized by millions, praised for her talent, but in the one role that mattered most, she felt like a stranger.

her daughter had achieved something extraordinary, something she would have been so proud of—and jennie hadn’t even been there to pick up the phone, let alone celebrate. she could only imagine ivory standing alone, phone pressed to her ear, hoping to hear her mother’s voice, only to be met with silence.

she’d missed it. she’d missed everything.

jennie’s vision blurred with fresh tears, and she buried her face in her hands, biting back a sob. she could picture every missed moment, every time she’d told ivory she’d make it up to her, every night she’d kissed her through a screen, promising it was only temporary. but her baby girl had grown up in the gaps jennie had left, filling in the spaces with memories jennie would never share. 

if these heights should bring my fall

let me be your own

icarian carrion

part of jennie always knew she wasn’t invincible. she could conquer stages, face the world’s scrutiny, but when it came to protecting jane, she felt utterly powerless. it was a thought that twisted in her gut, reminding her that no matter how much she wanted to shield her daughter from the storm, she was just one woman against an unforgiving world. still, the fierce love she held for ivory ignited a fire within her. 

she would die trying to keep her daughter safe, even if it meant battling the very system that had once elevated her to the highest heights.

the idol leaned back in the plush leather seat of the car, her eyes vacant as she stared out at the blurred lights of the city. the soft hum of the engine was drowned out by the relentless patter of the rain, but it was a comfort compared to the storm brewing in her heart. just as she closed her eyes to escape her thoughts, her phone buzzed insistently in her lap.

she glanced down, the dim light illuminating the screen, and her breath hitched in her throat. the headlines pierced through the fog of her despair.

"IVORY DENIES ANY RELATION TO RUMORED MOTHER, JENNIE."

“LE SSEREAFIM MEMBER IVORY DENIES FAMILY TIES WITH BLACKPINK’S JENNIE.”

“JENNIE KIM—NOT A MOTHER AFTER ALL?”

jennie couldn’t believe the words she was reading. she read the different headlines over and over, trying to understand what was happening right now. her heart sank even further as she read the quote beneath one of them:

“in a recent statement, ivory kim has publicly denied any familial ties to the renowned idol jennie, stating, ‘i am my own person and have nothing to do with her public image or lifestyle.’”

a bitter chill coursed through her veins as the weight of those words settled in. the world was watching, and her daughter was choosing to distance herself from her mother. it felt like an emotional dagger, the kind that twisted and turned, severing the bonds they had fought so hard to forge.

if the wind turns, if i hit a squall

allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

“why would you say that?” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling. the denial felt like a rejection of everything they had built together, a painful erasure of their connection. she quickly checked her recent call history, tapping on her daughter’s name once again for the nth time. the idol fought the urge to scream when she heard the dial tone go immediately to voicemail. just then, the driver turned onto a familiar street, the sleek glass building of her office looming ahead. the car slowed, and jennie blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, her heart racing with a mix of anxiety and determination. the sleek façade of her workplace, usually a source of pride, now felt like a battleground, a place where she would have to face the raging storm outside.

as the car came to a stop, she could hear the distant shouts and the clicking of cameras, the cacophony of the paparazzi waiting to pounce on her the moment she stepped outside. she felt sick. she wanted to tell the driver to turn around and drive straight to the hybe building. but she couldn’t. 

with a heavy sigh, she adjusted her sunglasses, the dark designer lenses serving as a shield against the world. she took a moment to gather her thoughts, feeling the weight of her daughter’s words pressing down on her chest. she quickly wiped the corners of her eyes with the ends of her sleeves before steeling herself for the hell awaiting her.

taking a deep breath, she opened the car door and stepped out into the pouring rain. the cold droplets hit her like a thousand tiny needles, but she welcomed the sensation, using it to mask the tears threatening to escape. she could feel the cameras flashing, the questions being shouted, but all she could think about was ivory.

“jennie! what do you have to say about ivory’s statement?” one reporter shouted, shoving a microphone in her direction.

"did you pay her to say that?” another voice rang out, sharper than the rest, slicing through the crowd's cacophony and echoing in jennie's mind like a jagged wound being reopened. "where is your official statement?" someone else demanded, and the barrage of voices grew relentless, questions stabbing through the heavy rain, flashes sparking like bursts of lightning even through her tinted lenses.

the idol’s fingers curled into fists as she fought back the impulse to scream, to plead with them to understand that this was more than just a story to her. her skin felt raw, scraped by the flashing cameras and the biting cold, as if each shout and accusation stripped another layer from her, laying bare the ache she tried so hard to hide. but she couldn’t break down here—not in front of the world, not with ivory's fragile truth hanging between them, vulnerable to this voracious hunger for scandal.

she swallowed hard, pushing the tears down, forcing herself to lift her chin. each step she took toward the building was heavy, as though she were dragging the weight of her guilt and grief alongside her. it felt like walking through a storm without shelter, the rain mingling with her tears, each ounce of water a reminder of the distance that had grown between her and her daughter—a distance she’d allowed to widen.

ivory’s innocence, her future, was on the line, and jennie would do whatever it took to protect her, even if it meant facing this battle alone. she could bear the cruelty, the invasion, the unyielding scrutiny if it meant her daughter didn’t have to. this was her responsibility. her burden. and if it came to it, jennie would willingly take every accusation, every whispered insult, if it meant jane could live without this shadow hanging over her.

she had no delusions about the battle ahead, but she would face it—she would endure every cost, every scar, if it meant shielding ivory from this storm. even if it destroyed her, jennie would be her daughter’s armor, her shield.

even if it meant her daughter denied her as a mother, the same way jennie had done for years, she would still keep trying. she would always be a mother, no matter what.

and if that meant she had to fight until there was nothing left of her, then so be it. she’d die trying.

if i should fall, on that day

i only pray, don't fall away from me

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TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo @imahallucination11 @jisooftme @yerimbrit @linnnsworld @edeivveiss @urmom2314 @aespasoooool @mygfiswonyoung @yeetaberry127 @@sixflame438 @yourmyst4r @shegoswhoree @saysirhc @hwm1hyun @literallybipanic @yejiscene @gayforalll @yvsvrn @bunnywonyo @karifrogs @thefckghost @yoontoonwhs @pandafuriosa60 @somedaydream @hotluvlet @pagedpick7 @lizseos @cy8erpunkz @keiji-jin @lizseos @xszn @awkwardtoafault @hellokiraa @chicopichu @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite @lesbian4themis @literallybipanic @tjdc25 @st4r4ngel @jihyos-hoe @jxmis @phamianaz

CLOSED.

[lovelettersfromluna]

｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ The Bug Collector ｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: The one where you own a sweet little book store, and Ellie makes it her life mission to torment you.

an: a request from @ximtiredx !! (Thank you so much btw). Basically Ellie is a raging asshole with a giant fucking crush on you, and you’re too sweet and oblivious to even notice, so she just comes off as cocky and mean heh. ALSO! This is most definitely a small town fic! The summer is in full swing and it’s inspiring me so much to make something inspired by it. I strayed away from Ellie being a dickhead a tiny bit towards the end bc I can’t help but make her soft and enamored with the reader I’m sorry @ximtiredx 😭 Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! (Not proofread again SO SORRY)

Warnings: 18+ smut!! Ellie is kind of an asshole in this one and very bad at feelings. A tiny bit of angst? Reader is a little oblivious, thigh riding sort of?? Scissoring sort of?? I KNOW ANOTHER SCISSORING FIC IM SORRY it just made the most sense to me, pet names, Ellie is obsessed with readers tits, slight mean!ellie (she redeems herself later), super fluffy at the end, let me know if I missed anything!

The small fan you had perched up on your counter did nothing to cool you down.

The summer had been brutal, and business was extremely slow because no one wanted to set foot out into the miniature oven that was your town. You let out a soft sigh, doodling little stars and moons all over your notebook, which was completely fucking empty.

It was too warm out, and you were suffering the worst case of writers block. It was like any thoughts that came into your head were always involving how hot you were and how much you wanted to be anywhere else other than where you were right now.

And that wasn’t even like you. You adored your little book store, putting your entire heart and soul into bringing new stories to the people of your town, your heart fluttering every time you rang up someone and they had that familiar face of wonder and excitement as they waited for you to wrap up their books in your brown paper bags, your cute store logo written on the front.

But it was hard to be excited for that when the only person you saw was the baker next door, and when the summer was melting you from the inside out.

It was almost noon, and you were contemplating closing up shop early and going home. You’d still be hot, but you’d be hot in the comfort of your little home.

But then the bell above your door rang, signaling that a customer had arrived.

And your face was lighting up, because finally, someone was there that you could talk to.

But of course, out of everyone in your very small town, the person that happened to walk through your doors was of course none other than Ellie Williams herself.

You didn’t have a problem with Ellie, you loved all your customers equally. Giving each and every one of them the same sweet smile that you always did, making sure to throw in extra goodies with every purchase, because you truly adored them all for supporting your tiny store.

But Ellie was a little….mean.

Most things went right over your head, because you were too caught up with trying to help her find a book that she’d like (which she usually never even bought anything from your store). But other things, you did catch onto.

Like when she teased you for being an old lady stuck in a 20 something year olds body, that one sort of hurt your feelings. Or when she asked you when the last time it was that you went to a party or a bar and no tea parties didn’t count, also hurt. Or, when she’d make fun of your clothes, specifically calling you a farmer whenever you’d wear your favorite pair of overalls, they were cute, okay?

So some of the things she said did hurt your feelings, but you just assumed that she was just…like that, that all of that was just Ellie being Ellie. No matter what, you never stopped giving her your sweetest smile, because as much as she wanted you to.

You never took it personally.

Your sweet smile is on your face as you perk up once you see her, straightening your back out and adjusting your posture as you give her a wave.

“Ellie! Welcome in! Having a good day?” You chirped, and she’s already stalking her way towards you, smug smirk on her face as she leans her forearms against your counter, shaking her head as she turns your fan so that it’s now only hitting her.

“It’s fuckin’ hot sweetheart, do you think I’m having a good day?” Her voice is rough and raspy, and you can’t help but sigh softly before nodding in agreement.

“It is…I do wish it was cooler in here for you” you sighed, looking down at your fan that was blowing warm air through her pretty brown hair. “Looking for anything specific today? Maybe I can help”

And you’re flashing that sweet smile in her direction again, making her roll her eyes. “Are books all you can ever think about? God it’s a little pathetic, don’t you think sweetheart?”

Her words make you frown, but then you remember that, that’s just Ellie.

You let out a soft sigh before you shrug, your lips pouting out a bit as you speak. “I dunno…books are just…they’re comforting, you know? It’s nice to lay down after a long day and just read” you explain.

And Ellie is holding back a groan because she’s picturing you in bed, in her t shirt, reading a book, and she can already feel herself getting turned on. It’s pathetic because you haven’t even done anything to make her want you.

Maybe that’s why she picks on you so much.

You don’t even try and she’s putty in her hands, and that pisses her off. You don’t give her any special treatment, you don’t bat your eyelashes like the other girls whenever she compliments you, and you act like she’s just any other person when she walks into your store, trying to find it in herself to ask you out and not be a dick to you.

But she doesn’t, she’s always mean to you.

She likes the way your cheeks get red, and she thinks you almost like that she’s so mean. There’s just something about the way you take deep inhales after she’s said something particularly nasty that has her smirking like an asshole.

“That’s fuckin lame man…and you know it” she sighs out, pushing herself off of your counter. She finally gets a good look at you once she does, and she’s shamelessly letting her eyes drift down your pretty body.

The warmer months are Ellie’s favorite, because it forces you to wear less and less clothes.

Your white linen dress hugs your mid size perfectly, pushing your tits up more than she’s ever seen them before. It’s just short enough that she gets to see more of your plush thighs. She’s biting her lip like she’s staring at a fucking meal, her green eyes burning from a lack of blinking before she looks up at you, raising her eyebrows once she realizes she’s missed what you said.

You furrows your eyebrows as you watch her watching you, looking down at your dress. Was there a stain on you or something? Or maybe she was going to make fun of your dress?

When she doesn’t, and she continues to stare at you, you repeat yourself.

“I said, that it’s fine that you feel that way…we’re just different, that’s all” you nod to yourself before you round your counter and make your way deeper into your book store, busying yourself with organizing your shop a bit more.

Ellie follows you, leaning up against the shelves that you’re restocking as she's eyeing you up and down, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she watches you.

It's annoying because you're so fucking oblivious. You don't notice any of the attention that she gives you. You don't notice the way her eyes roam down your body, or the way she's dead silent whenever you bend over to pick up a stack of books, Ellie is positive that she needs to tattoo 'I want you' on her forehead for you to get the message, and even then it wouldn't be clear to you how badly she wants you.

She also hates when you say that, that you and her are different. It sounds like you're dismissing her attempts at trying to ask you out, and it pisses her off.

"No, means you're lame and i'm not" She huffs out, turning her back so she was leaning against the shelves. You sigh, standing on your toes to get one of your books on the higher shelves, huffing softly to yourself in concentration.

"I...yes thats nice Ellie...if you're not going to buy anything, you can leave" You sigh out, still struggling to reach the highest shelf. You were too focused on restocking your books, and frankly you had no time for Ellie and her games. It was too fucking hot, you were very fucking tired, and she was just so...so..

So fucking mean.

Your words make Ellie seethe, because you've never asked her to leave.

And she's scoffing, rolling her eyes as she finally pushes herself off the shelf, snatching the book from your hand and settling it on the shelf without any struggling from her end. "Get a fucking step ladder next time, princess" She spits, and her tone makes you flinch a bit.

You watch her as she storms out, and for a moment you think you might have been too mean for saying what you did. You truly didn't mean it, not in the way that she might have thought anyway. You were just...frustrated, and Ellie made you feel even more frustrated...

But then you're thinking about how rude Ellie is to you all the time, so cocky and smug. Bragging to you about the parties she attends in the city, or the amount of girls that are dangling off her arm whenever she's there, and she tells you that you could never be like that, you could never get out the way she does because you're just a boring little librarian who's only friends are the baker next door and the couple who owns the pet store a few blocks down.

Ellie is fucking mean, and you hate that you're blaming yourself for finally stand up to her...sort of.

｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

The end of the day comes sooner than you expected.

Mainly because all you can think about is Ellie, and it's distracting you from the heat. No one else comes in for the rest of the day, only a few of your regulars to drop off some books they had finished and wanted to donate to you. Other than that, it was just you and the soft music that played out of your old little radio.

You close up an hour early, figuring that there was no use in staying open late. More times than not, people wouldn't be making an emergency late night run to the little book store in town.

You frown softly as you turn off all the lights, and flip the little sign on your door to the side that says 'sorry! come back tomorrow!'. You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, the strange weight that you had been carrying ever since Ellie had left earlier in the day.

She didn't even say anything that was out of the ordinary for her, she was always witty and rude. It was just...she seemed so...hurt, when you told her to leave. You then realized that it was something you had never done, to her or anybody that set foot in your shop.

Even though you shouldn't, it made you want to apologize.

You pulled your bag further up on your shoulder, deep in thought as you only hoped she would return the next morning. You were already replaying the words in your head that you would say, trying your best to make amends with the girl that would never once apologize for all of the mean things she said to you.

You don't even notice her sitting on the bench thats set right outside of your shop.

Her fists are shoved in her pockets, and her knee is bouncing wildly as she waits for you. She had been waiting for quite some time, knowing that you would have to close up shop eventually.

When she does hear the little bell on your door ring, she's up on her feet in seconds, making her way towards you.

"Hey..um...you mind if I walk you home?" She asks, and you're blinking up at her almost in shock because you're positive you've never heard Ellie use such a gentle tone with you before.

You even go as far as to look around you, just to make sure she's speaking to you and not someone nearby. When you confirm that she is in fact speaking to you, you give her a small nod, and you both begin to walk into the direction of your house in silence.

She feels awkward, and stupid, and she regrets the way she's been tormenting you for god knows how long, and she finally has the chance to be civil with you and she isn't saying anything.

Because she's an idiot.

You break the silence first.

With a small clearing of your throat, you're tugging the strap of your bag gently, eyes glued to your shoes as you walk. "Um..do you live around here?" Your voice is soft, and Ellie feels like she wants to kick herself for being so rude to someone so fucking sweet.

"No, no. I live on the other side of town." She doesn't even fully finish her sentence and you're already stopping in your tracks, shaking your head quickly. "Oh no..you dont need to walk me all the way there then..I'd hate to make you walk across town in the dark."

Ellie stares at you in disbelief, because its already dark, and you'd be walking alone, and she is quite literally your bully, but yet you're still worrying about her walking home on her own, sacrificing your safety and comfort so that she doesn't have to make her way back,

She chuckles softly before she shakes her head, placing her hand on the small of your back as she urges you to continue walking on. "No fuckin' way, you're not getting rid of me that easily" She hums, and her words make you giggle, the air between the two of you already feeling less tense.

She sighs out softly, her hand dropping from your back before she speaks again. "Look I...I waited for you so I could apologize...its not cool the way I treat you.." She mumbled, almost sounding ashamed of herself for even being in this position to begin with.

You hum softly, staring down at the ground once again as you nod at her words. "Didn’t expect to hear those words from you, Ellie…” you mumble out, and it makes Ellie feel like shit.

She groans “I can be nice too you know..” and it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than she’s trying to convince you. You giggle softly as you look up at her, the warm summer breeze blowing her pretty hair back, brown fringe sweeping across her face before you speak.

“Oh really? I’ve yet to see that” you hum, and it doesn’t have any bite to it, and it isn’t harsh. It’s simply the truth. You truly have never experienced any sort of nice behavior come from Ellie that wasn’t used as a way to lure you into another one of her stupid jokes or pranks.

Ellie sighs, because she knows you’re right, and she’s annoyed at herself for it. She opens her mouth to speak, but you’re already in front of your house, and of course your house is just as fucking cute as you are.

It makes Ellie want to scream at herself.

She sucks in a harsh breath as you both stand outside your place, and she asking before she can even stop herself.

“Can I come in?”

｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

Ellie is sat at your little kitchen table while you get her something to drink. She’s taking in the little trinkets in your home, and it looks like a cozier version of your book store, she wasn’t even sure if it could get any cozier than that in all honesty.

But it does, because it’s bright and colorful and it smells like you, and Ellie finds that she doesn’t even want to leave.

You return with a talk pitcher of fresh lemonade that you had made yourself the day before, knowing the weeks weather would be brutal and you’d need it for when you got home. You placed two glasses on the table and a pitcher before you poured some out for her.

“It’s too hot out for tea…I hope this is fine” you gave her a gentle smile before you sat down across from her.

It’s moments like this where Ellie doesn’t think you’re even real. As she watches you move from the kitchen to the table in your little sundress, pitcher of lemonade in hand, she realizes how badly she wants you. She’s always known that she’s wanted you…but it’s practically screaming at her as she sits there in your home.

The two of you talk for a bit, and she finds that it’s the first time she’s actually talking to you. Getting to know you, asking you about your store, and it’s the same for you. You’re able to ask Ellie things you were too scared to ask her in the beginning.

Ellie realizes her little crush for you is so much bigger than she thought it was in the beginning.

Soon enough, you’re both moving to the couch. The cool breeze that was blowing in through your window made you look like a dream to Ellie, and she was sure that she was staring like a dazed out idiot, but you seemed so comfortable around her, and Ellie had realized that she’s never actually seen you this way before.

Not around her at least.

You hum softly once your words die down, looking over at the large old clock on your wall. It was already so late, and you knew for a fact if you sat there any longer, that you’d be able to sit with her for hours and just talk.

“It’s already so late…I should probably start heading to bed” you sigh out, and Ellie can tell that you’re feeling tired. She nods quickly, standing up and grabbing both of your glasses and taking them to your sink. The gesture makes you giggle softly.

You pat down your dress before you walk her towards your front door.

As she walks out and turns around so that she’s facing you, you think there’s an angel at your door. Because the moon is shining down on her pretty face, and she’s staring down at you with those big green eyes, and you feel like she’s walked out of a dream of yours.

Your staring is how you end up in Ellie’s lap on your couch.

Because she knows that look, she’s seen it so many times before from other girls that have wanted her. But she feels like she’s dreaming because you’re looking at her that way, so she couldn’t help herself from leaning forward, wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing a needy kiss to your lips.

She takes advantage of the way you gasp into her mouth, pushing her tongue into yours as she��s already walking you backwards towards your couch, kicking your front door closed.

You’re a mess on top of her, straddling her lap, her hands pushing up her dress and squeezing the plush skin of your thighs.

You moan softly into her mouth, feeling like the first kiss from her made you want so much more. Your hands are tugging at her hair, pulling her closer to you and keeping her closer to you. “Ellie….” You moan out.

Ellie breaks the kiss, looking up at you with blown out pupils as she nods, just as breathless as you are. “What is it baby? Tell me what you need?” She sighs softly, giving your thighs a soft squeeze.

And you’re whining because you don’t even know what you need, you’re just moaning, and needy, and your skin feels like it’s on fucking fire because you haven’t felt want and lust like this in a long fucking time. So you begin to grind your hips down on her lap, moaning out as you arch your back at the feeling.

“Mmm….fuuuuck…just…need you Ellie…wanna feel you…please” you whine, and Ellie is staring up at you like you’re a fucking goddess because she’s only ever dreamt about you like this, on her lap moaning for her.

The feeling of you rocking your hips back and forth on her lap is making her moan with you, because your thigh is slotted right between her legs, and your movements are bringing her just the right amount of friction that she needs from you.

She grips your hips harder, forcing you to grind harder down on her lap. She let her head fall back against the couch, a soft hiss leaving her lips followed by a long, drawn out moan.

“Fuuuuck…that’s it baby, grind that pretty lil cunt on me…fuck you feel so good….” She leans forward, pulling your dress down so your tits pop out for her, and her lips are latching onto your nipple in an instant. The feeling of her warm mouth has your head spinning, and you’re positive there’s a wet spot on her jeans.

From you and from her.

You gasp softly as you stare down at her attacking your nipples with her mouth, biting and sucking, your hands still laced in her hair as you go faster.

“F-fuck! Ah…mmm…Ellie I’m…oh my god!…I’m gonna fucking cuuummm”

Ellie is nodding against you, her lips coming off of your nipple with a pop before she’s staring up at you again, strong hands guiding your hips to go faster, her own pussy grinding against your thigh as she moans loudly.

“That’s it princess, fuck…cum with me, be a good girl and fucking cum with me..” she groans out, and you truly don’t need to be told twice.

Because between her words and her moans, you’re throwing your head back and your hips stifle as you cum hard against her. She’s pressing her face into your chest, breathing hard as her orgasm washes over her as well.

The two of you sit there for a moment, the only noises in the room being the sounds of your breathing and the occasional kisses she’d press to your chest.

This time, Ellie breaks the silence first.

She sighs softly, her arms sliding up to grip your middle as she pulls you closer to her body, now pressing kisses to your neck as she hums.

“I wanna take you out…on a real date” she hums softly, and it makes you giggle. She smirks softly against your skin before she pulls back a bit, staring up at you with raised eyebrows. “You laughin’ at me?” She questions, and you smile softly as you give her a nod, brushing her hair out of her face.

“It’s a little late for asking me out on a date, don’t you think?” You hum, and she groans softly as her eyes flutter shut. She’s embarrassed because you’re right, you just made her cum on your thigh and she was choosing now of all times to ask you out.

“Better late then never? I mean…I know it’s really fucking backwards on my end but I just…I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out for a really long time..and I get it if you wouldn’t want to go out with someone who’s only been rude to you but I just really fucking like you and-“ you cut her off with your lips pressing against hers.

Ellie furrows her eyebrows, but still melts into the kiss nonetheless. She stares at you with a confused expression, because you’re giving her that sweet smile with pretty sleepy eyes and she feels like she’s being pranked or something.

“You’re cute when you ramble…” you hum softly, and it makes her cheeks go red. You giggle softly before you nod, pressing another gentle kiss to the corner of her lips.

“I’ll let you take me out on a date if you spend the night” you hum, and her eyes are nearly bulging out of her head because she couldn’t believe that someone as sweet as you is asking her to stay the next.

She nods eagerly, turning her head so she catches your lips against hers, making you giggle.

You spend the rest of the night in each others arms after the nicest shower Ellie has ever had, getting to know each other and making up for lost time. And as crazy as it may sound to you…

You are so fucking happy that Ellie was so shit at flirting.

[angelsknifeprty]

What would Sadie Adler be like being the fem!eader's girlfriend? I love she🩵

sadie as your girlfriend hcs ✿⋆.˚⊹

ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

‧₊˚౨ৎ before the two of you started dating she was unexplainably protective over you. she was already very protective of the gang, leaping into action whenever there was danger. but she always seemed to have her eyes trained on you, watching like a hawk for if you were in any sort of trouble

‧₊˚౨ৎ this only intensifies when she finally gets to call you hers. you were always the first person she’d check on both in and after any danger. she’d rush to your side to protect you and make sure you weren’t too shaken up afterwards. her arm would constantly be wrapped protectively (and possessively) around your waist. when sadie was around you didn’t have to worry about taking shit from anybody, they’d have to go through her first

‧₊˚౨ৎ “you redirect that attitude to me, ‘cause if i hear another word leave that filthy mouth o’ yours, i’ll kill ya.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she’s very generous with her death threats but to anyone who knows her or has any common sense, they know she’s not joking

‧₊˚౨ৎ despite her harsh exterior and brutal nature, she’s actually a big softie. she’s a fan of mushy pet names, calling you “sweetheart”, “angel”, “pretty girl”, you name it. and she’s not worried about calling you these in front of people. most think she’d shy away from it as she has a reputation for being a bit hot-headed and intimidating. but she holds her own well enough for there to be no doubt about whether she’s truly a threat or not, just for her to then turn around and dote on you like nothing happened

‧₊˚౨ৎ she is very possessive and loves calling you hers. what’s hers is hers and that will be known, every affectionate name having “my” in front of it

‧₊˚౨ৎ loves doing things for you, always talking about how she isn’t a fan of sitting around and not doing much. if she sees miss grimshaw is wearing you rather thin she won’t hesitate to come and take some tasks off of your hands, even though she prefers the more hands on dirty work the gang gets up to. but if it was for you, she’d do just about anything

‧₊˚౨ৎ if you aren’t already able to she’d teach you how to defend yourself, always worrying over what might happen if she’s not around to protect you. the idea of that makes her feel helpless, which she hates, so it brings her some comfort to make sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself if needed

‧₊˚౨ৎ she loves to fluster you. she is absolutely not shy when teaching you how to shoot, pressing herself up against you as she readjusts your posture and gives you directions in that raspy voice of hers. you swear she wants you to start messing up when she whispers a proud, “atta girl,” after a particularly good shot. “my pretty girl’s doin’ so good.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ you are the only person she’ll play the harmonica for. she was very reserved about it at first, nobody but her late husband getting to hear her play. but when she feels herself becoming more at ease with you she’ll occasionally let you stick around while she plays. you of course respect her and her privacy but on days where she can’t bring herself to dismiss your company, she lets you stay

“alright, you can stay, darlin’. but ya can’t laugh if i mess up, okay?” 

‧₊˚౨ৎ she is actually very upfront about her feelings. she’s quite openly vulnerable, though she wishes she wasn’t. she’s a tough cookie to break but sees the importance of being honest with you (she’s so applejack coded aaaa) and doesn’t like leaving tension in the air if you’re upset with each other or one of you is going through a hard time

‧₊˚౨ৎ will absolutely spoil you with her bounty hunting money. what better way to spend her time after chasing down crooks than giving you whatever you wanted? it also wouldn’t hurt to give you any shiny trinkets she took from the pockets of her newest catches, they wouldn’t be needing them anyway once they were behind bars

‧₊˚౨ৎ literally the best girlfriend ever, i firmly believe she devotes her every breath to doing right by you <3

a/n: i love sadie sm i wanna write for her more !! i hope you enjoyed :D xoxo

[on-the-clear-blue]

The idea warms are hitting extremely hard today, so outside of my usual DPxDC I give you, Spider-Man in Gotham...Not MCU Peter edition!

Give me a Peter Parker that is 18 going on onto 19, he has been Spider-Man for like, 5 almost 6 years, getting his bite very early, and dealing with all the things that happen to him younger.

And give me a Year One Batman. Who is still trying to figure out what the hell he is doing, and toting along a 9 year old Robin

Peter, falling out of a portal, and doing his standard check of surroundings, spotting Batman staring at him in clunky armor and a brightly colored child: Waves slowly

Bruce, who heard some freaky shit was happening with a cult near by and went to investigate: blinking at the blue and red being that got summoned

Dickie, who is trying (and failing) to do the Bat glare: still waves back.

And like, just the idea of this 19 year old Spider-Man taking a much older vigilante under his wing, teaching him the ins and outs of it all.

Like..

Bruce, Storming through a bag guys base gets suddenly pulled back by a web to his cape.

Peter, giving him a "bitch you dumb" look under his mask: Traps! LOOK FOR TRAPS?? AND LOOK UP? PEOPLE HID THINGS UP?

Bonus, Spider-Man bending himself into a human pretzels and Dick "I have no bones" Grayson is gleefully testing to see if he could do it too.

Jump cut, years later, Peter beats emotional intelligence into Bruce with Dick.

All the Bat kids grow up with Uncle Peter, (either Peter can't get back or has been told specifically that he can't by a higher being or something) and like...

Peter is the only one that catches Tiny Tim following them during patrol, he shows him all the places to get the best angles, even poses a few times for him.

Either is there when Jason dies and saves him, or is there mourning with Bruce

(Gotham lives in fear of the memory, Batman at his most brutal and Black Suit Spider-Man)

Teaches Jason how to control his pit rage after he comes back, what is Spider-Man if not control?

Stephanie is his bestie in puns and white girl music tastes.

Tim finds a partner in constantly staying up far to late as well as someone who likes to invent,( because I hc that Peter has pretty much worked with every scientist in New York, cus like since this is a blend of canons, he has worked with the Lizard, Doc Oct, Reed Richards, the only one he said no to an internship was Stark)

Duke gets a meta mentor that can help him with his powers, Spidey has been on more than one team with someone that had some form of light powers.

Plus I think Spider-man is Gothams daytime hero before Signal joins him, they are the daytime duo

Cass is his favorite (don't tell anyone because they already know) she can see him and he can see her in a spider sense, they do the point meme whenever they sense each other.

Little stabby Damian finds out that this person with his father has been trained by many an assassin (Wade, Daredevil, Natasha, Shield in general)

And Wade...Deadpool pops up occasionally, even he doesn't understand why or how lBruce gets a strange feeling he should punch the Flash in the face the next time he sees him)

Bruce having to deal with Deadpool is terrible for him and I sadly love it.

(Also on the point of Black suit spidey in Gotham...ESPECIALLY after Jason is murdered? Oh Peter is killing the Joker, or his arm privileges forfeit. I feel like Peter would try not to kill him but wouldn't try too hard.)

Spider-man being a founding members of the Justice League, them having to deal with Peter crawling on the ceiling, and scuttering through air vents!

Peter making Parker Industries, pointing inventions from other heros/villains from his world, he isn't above pettiness, and that's how the DC world gets some of Reed Richard's old designs he gave to Peter "Because they are practically useless" they arnt they save millions of lives. Not to mention Arc Reactors, Peter grinned the whole time claiming it was his idea.

Hope you enjoy my ADHD rambling brought to you be sleep deprivation