#she's filled with doubts and he's there for her

[syngularitysyn]

It's all fun and memes to joke about how Caitlyn immediately switched sides the moment she hears Vi call her cupcake again. And I do it too. But to me, the switch wasn't abrupt at all.

From the first scene in episode four, Caitlyn already says that the martial law has been going on much longer than she wanted. In the next scene, you see her standing up to Ambessa, using her words back at her, for which Ambessa calls her fearless. It shows that Caitlin has not given up control and is not being puppeteered by Ambessa. She's in control still, but her singular focus is still on Jinx like it was in act one.

Vi was right that Caitlyn is behaving like Jinx, but it was probably the worst thing Vi could have said to her, no matter how true, cause Caitlyn was too deep in her quest for 'justice' in her grief. That's why she reacted so violently.

Jinx is the target of her obsession, or her in her mind for justice, even though what she really wants is vengeance, and being compared to Jinx cut deep. Vi had noticed the similarity before in season one, but that was before Jinx kidnapped Caitlyn and wanted her dead.

In the beginning of episode four, she feels that it's been going on too long, but even after all those months her obsession is still stronger. Her obsession with getting vengeance, finding Jinx, killing Jinx, is still stronger than her moral compass, which she has abandoned to avenge her mother and fill her mother's shoes.

But over the course of the second act before she sees Vi again, there are multiple things that happen that make Caitlyn understand she has to stop, that what she's doing isn't right or justifiable.

Some of these were not initially clear to me when I first watched it. but one thing I realized today while I was working out is that one crucial moment for Caitlyn's arc in act two is with Singed.

Taking her singular focus off Jinx for a moment, Caitlyn does what she does best and figures out who Singed is, and what he's responsible for. She uncovers that Singed is actually the formerly revered alchemist Dr. Corin Reveck, who used to work with Heimerdinger at the academy. Arcane implies he is from Piltover and became a Zaunite after being kicked out of Piltover. He helped build up Piltover to what it is, and now he is ravaging Zaun with shimmer, weapons and monsters.

When she calls him a monster and asks him "why do all this?", he tells her he did it 'for love'. Out of love for his deceased daughter.

And I think that that is one of the crucial moments where Caitlyn starts to realize that what she is doing is not very different from him.

She's doing things her old self would never have approved, of out of love and grief for her deceased mother.

When she sees Vi again, she doesn't suddenly switch sides, she's already been doubting her chosen course of action. She initially says "you can't be here", because Caitlyn is trying to believe she's doing the right thing still, and knows Vi is a threat to that belief/lie.

Vi calling her cupcake though, is one of the last drops in the bucket. She left Vi to do what she thought she needed to do, what her mother might have done. What she's doing out of guilt for not saving her mother when she had the chance. She even tried to be with a girl her mother would have approved of.

When Vi calls her cupcake, all the feelings she's been trying to stuff away come flooding back. She snaps out of this self-imposed love-deprived state she's been in, and she can no longer deny she loves Vi.

When Vi tells her that she's trying to save her dad, I think that is the moment she actually switches sides. That was the last drop. That is the moment where she realizes there are still people she loves, who love her, who are still alive and they need her help, and that is more important than her horrible campaign for vengeance out of grief, otherwise she's no different than Singed.

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

Halo~~ can I request and Poly!Marauders (James, Sirius and Remus) x fem!reader? Where reader has recurring hypoglycemia and ends up standing the boys up on a date because her levels had been finicky all day and she forgot to tell them. So when they go find her to confront her about it they find her on the floor on like the verge of unconsciousness (or maybe she's already passed out) with dangerously low levels and help her like the good loving boyfriend's they are. Pretty please 🥺

Thank you for this request! I had fun with it, and I hope this works for you! 💞 Poly!marauders x fem!reader 💞 2.2k words

The sun dips lower in the sky, painting hues of lavender and pink across the horizon. It's the perfect backdrop for the evening you've been anticipating all week with James, Sirius, and Remus—a night filled with laughter and camaraderie. They've planned something big, no doubt; James has been jokingly boasting about his "romantic genius," while Sirius grins like a Cheshire cat and Remus rolls his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Their good humour is infectious, and you can't help but look forward to whatever they have in store.

But today, your body doesn't seem to be on the same page as your mind. You've woken up with trembling hands and a light head, your blood sugar levels fluctuating in a way that makes your stomach churn. You're not new to hypoglycaemia—you've had episodes before, each one leaving you weak and shaky—but today it lingers, refusing to let go despite your best efforts to stabilise it. You push through, hoping to shake it off, but the fatigue clings to you like a second skin, weighing you down.

"Just a little rest," you tell yourself, sinking into the couch. "I'll feel better after."

Setting an alarm, you allow your eyes to flutter closed, promising yourself that it's only for a moment before you get ready. You know you should let the boys in on what's happening, but the thought of explaining—of offering up excuses yet again—seems too daunting. Too draining. Instead, you tell yourself it will pass. It always does. A quick nap should help; then you can join them, fresh-faced and ready for the evening's escapades.

---

The air is thick with tension at the small restaurant where you agreed to meet. James sits with his back to the wall, his foot tapping out a rhythm of worry against the table leg. He checks his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, his brow furrowed.

"She's late," he mutters, though everyone at the table is painfully aware. "She's never late."

Sirius glances toward the door again, his usual swagger replaced by something more akin to concern. "Maybe she got held up," he offers, but there's a tightness in his voice that belies his nonchalant exterior.

Remus's eyes flicker between the two, worry etching deep lines in his already weary face. "She would've sent word if she couldn't make it—she always does."

James rubs a hand through his unruly hair, the action doing nothing to quell the unease that creeps into every crevice of his being. "That's what has me worried," he admits, gaze far off. "It's not like her to just... vanish."

"Then we should go and see for ourselves if she's all right," Remus suggests, rising from his seat. The chair scrapes against the floor, a grating sound that mirrors the tension threading through each man's veins. "Better safe than sorry."

"Agreed." Sirius pushes away from the table, his frame rigid with an intensity borne of concern. "Let's go."

Without another word, they leave the restaurant behind, its warmth and light becoming a distant memory as they step into the biting night air. Their footfalls echo down the empty streets, a testament to their shared apprehension.

The apartment is eerily still as they approach, the silence hanging heavy in the air like a shroud. Something about it feels wrong, disjointed, and Sirius is the first to cross the threshold, his heart pounding in his chest. "Y/N?" he calls out, his voice laced with both worry and hope. But there's no answer, just the echo of his own words bouncing off the walls.

James follows closely behind him, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of you. Remus brings up the rear, his gaze taking in every detail, a frown etching deep lines into his forehead.

"Over here!" James' shout breaks the tense quietude, his voice edged with panic. He's found you unconscious on the couch, your body too still. In an instant, he's at your side, dropping to his knees and pressing two fingers against your pulse point.

"She's breathing," he says, relief washing over him, but it's short-lived. "It's shallow, though. And her pulse... It's too fast."

Before he can say anything more, Remus is already moving, his long strides carrying him to the kitchen where the emergency kit is kept. His hands are steady as he reaches for the Baqsimi nasal spray, fingers deftly peeling away the red stripe that seals it. The lid comes off with a soft pop, revealing the small device within.

Sirius kneels beside James, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes lightly against your skin. His face is a mask of fear, guilt, and resolve. "Why didn't she tell us?" he murmurs more to himself than anyone else, the question hanging heavily in the air.

He turns to Remus, his grey eyes hardening. "Are you ready?"

"Always," Remus replies with a steady voice that belies the tremor in his hands. He positions the nozzle of the spray into one of your nostrils, his brow furrowed in concentration. "This should help. Just hold on."

With a gentle push, he depresses the plunger, watching as the green line marking the dose disappears. There's a collective holding of breaths as they wait for any sign of change.

"We've got to hope for the best," Sirius says, though his voice wavers slightly. "She'll pull through. She has to."

"Of course she will," James adds, his fingers tightening around yours, as if he could will you back to consciousness through sheer force of grip. His free hand finds your other cheek, his thumb tracing circles over the cool skin. "She's stronger than this."

Remus is already moving again, his long fingers sifting through the cupboards for the quick sugars he knows you keep on hand. He retrieves a carton of orange juice and a box of crackers, sparing no time in spreading peanut butter across the crackers and pouring out a glass of juice. Once prepared, he places the items on the low coffee table before sinking onto the edge of the couch. "We should give her these when she comes around."

The room falls into a tense silence as they wait, their gazes never straying far from your prone form. Sirius's hand hovers over your shoulder before finally making contact, his knuckles ghosting over the fabric of your shirt. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, are shadowed with concern. "She scared us," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

"More than that," James says, his tone gruff with unshed emotion. "I can't—"

His sentence hangs unfinished, the weight of it too heavy for words. Instead, he reaches out, brushing away a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

And then, so faint it's nearly missed, there's a shift. A soft groan escapes your lips, barely audible but enough to cause their hearts to leap. Your eyelids flutter, struggling against the pull of unconsciousness.

"Finally," Sirius mutters, relief flooding his features even as his brows knit together in a scowl. "Took your sweet time, didn't you?"

James leans in closer, his breath hitching as your eyes begin to open. He presses a warm kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "You're okay," he says, his words more of a prayer than a statement. "We've got you."

Sirius moves to help you sit up; his touch is steady, firm yet careful, like he's afraid you might shatter at any moment. The room spins slightly as you're lifted, but Sirius' presence is grounding, a reminder of reality amidst the haze of confusion.

"Easy there," Remus says, his voice soft yet commanding. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, not quite reaching his eyes, which remain clouded with concern. He picks up the glass from the coffee table, the contents sloshing gently.

"Here," Remus coaxes, holding the straw to your lips. "Take small sips, slowly."

The juice is cold and slightly tart in your mouth, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading from your core. You reach to hold the glass, but your hands shake, the tremors betraying the weakness you feel. Remus keeps his grip on the glass, steady as always.

You try to sit up straighter, to focus on the faces hovering around you, but every movement feels heavy, slow. The room tilts a little, and you wince, shutting your eyes. When you open them again, they're still there, all watching you, their expressions etched with concern.

"What..." Your voice is a raspy whisper, barely there. "What happened?"

"Scared the bloody hell out of us, you did," Sirius says, his tone equal parts relief and frustration. He leans back in his chair, passing a hand across his face. "We found you passed out. Your blood sugar was dangerously low."

"We used the nasal spray," Remus explains, his voice steady despite the gravity of his words. "You're lucky it acted quickly."

Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of the day's events. "I—" You begin, but your throat constricts around the admission. "I didn't mean to..."

"We know," James says quietly, his hand covering yours where it rests on the cup. "But you need to tell us when you're not feeling well, love. We could've stepped in sooner."

"I didn't want to ruin the date," you mumble, guilt curdling in your stomach.

"Ruin?" Remus's eyebrows knit together. "That's not how this works." His tone is stern but laced with worry, not anger. "Your health comes first, always. You could have—" He stops, a grimace passing over his face as if the words themselves are painful. "You could have taken a turn for the worse before we found you."

"Exactly," Sirius interjects, his voice softer than before. "You don't spoil anything by telling us you need help. We love you, Y/N."

A lump forms in your throat as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You cast your gaze down to the cup of juice. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." James reaches out, gently tilting your chin up until you're looking at him. The concern in his hazel eyes is almost too much to bear. "No more apologies, all right? Just let us help you. That's what we want."

The corners of Sirius's mouth lift into a small smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head—a gesture that feels as much a promise as it does an act of care. "Exactly. You're not getting rid of us that easily, so you might as well let us look after you."

Remus chuckles softly, though there's a tightness in his shoulders that suggests he's far from relaxed. "And speaking of which—finish the juice. Then we'll get some food in you."

"I'm fine," you murmur, but it's a feeble protest at best.

James's grin is slight, more a quirk of the lips than a full smile, but it's there, a glimmer of light amid the shadows. He picks up a cracker spread with peanut butter and extends it towards you. "Come on, open up. Don't make me do the airplane noises."

Your lips quirk despite yourself, a response to James's levity. You take the offered morsel, and for a moment, the air in the room loosens, the tension fraying at its edges as they watch you eat.

Remus shakes his head, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're lucky we look out for you."

"And you'll never hear the end of it," Sirius adds, his grin broadening. "We'll remind you every chance we get."

James lets out a quiet chuckle, but it quickly fades, replaced by a solemn expression. "Good," he says, his gaze steady on yours. "Because we won't let this happen again."

You finish the juice and crackers, every last crumb swept away, and as the warmth gradually returns to your body, so too does a sense of calm. James tucks a blanket around your shoulders, ensuring you're as comfortable as possible. Sirius settles beside you, his arm a steady presence around your shoulders while Remus remains at your feet, gently massaging your ankle.

James sits on the floor in front of you, his back resting against the edge of the coffee table. There's a tranquillity to him that wasn't there before, a resolution settling over his features. "You need to rest now," he tells you, not as an order but as a suggestion born from concern. "We'll stay."

"Staying?" The word slips out before you can stop it, a small voice daring to hope. "You're not leaving?"

"Absolutely not," Sirius says, his voice firm and unyielding. "We're staying here tonight. You won't be alone."

Remus's eyes lift to meet yours, meeting your gaze with a gentle warmth that defies the harsh reality of your situation. "Of course not," he replies, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Until you're fed up with us," James adds, his own grin small but genuine.

A weak chuckle escapes your lips, though it does little to alleviate the tension coiled in your chest. "I don't think that's possible."

And as sleep begins to pull you under, the last thing you feel is the pressure of Sirius's hand on your skin, grounding you in this new reality. The last thing you hear is James's voice, low and steady as he whispers, "Always."

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

The Party Planner

Matt Rempe x Reader

Summary: Trevor, Jack, and Luke learn they probably should knock before surprising people for their birthday…

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Gonna make this a series abt her being a lowk nepo baby

Y/N’s life had always revolved around hockey. As the daughter of a star defenseman from the ’90s, her childhood was filled with rink-side memories, locker room laughs, and endless conversations about the game. Her dad had gone to university with Ellen and even played on the Mens National Team when Ellen played for the womens. With that remaining close especially when she married Jim. They all remained close with him. Because of that, Y/N grew up with the Hughes brothers—Jack, Quinn, and Luke—feeling more like family than friends.

As she got older, Y/N’s life diverged from the rink. She found fame as an actress, rising through the ranks to become a household name in Hollywood. Still, no matter how bright the spotlight got, she stayed close to her roots. Her friendships with the Hughes brothers expanded to include other NHL players like Trevor Zegras and Cole Caufield. Whether it was hanging out in the off-season or cheering them on from the stands, she was the unofficial sibling of hockey’s rising stars.

But her personal life was a little more complicated.

For the past few months, Y/N had been dating Matt Rempe, a towering enforcer with a reputation for physical play and an even bigger temper. The hockey world knew him as the guy who spent more time in the penalty box than on the ice. His aggressive playing style and frequent fights had earned him a demotion to the AHL—a fact her father and friends couldn’t overlook.

“Are you sure about him?” her dad had asked more than once, skepticism clear in his voice.

Even Jack, Luke, and Trevor had their doubts. “I mean, he’s a good guy, right?” Jack had said cautiously. “But, uh…maybe not your guy.”

Yeah, like someone who doesn’t punch people for fun,” Trevor added.

Y/N brushed off their concerns. They didn’t know Matt like she did. Sure, he had a reputation, but beneath the rough exterior was a man who was kind, funny, and fiercely protective. He treated her like gold, and that was all that mattered. Winning over her friends and family would take time, but she was willing to wait.

As her birthday approached, Y/N opted for a quiet celebration. Between work and travel, she wanted nothing more than a simple dinner with close friends. What she didn’t know was that Luke, Jack, and Trevor had cooked up a plan to surprise her.

Trevor stood in the aisle of a party supply store, holding up a pack of balloons. “I’m telling you, this is the move. We sneak into her place, decorate, and when she gets home—bam! Surprise party.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “How do we know she’s not there?”

“She told me she was filming or something,” Jack said, tossing a bag of confetti into the cart. “We’ll be in and out. Easy.”

An hour later, armed with decorations and a cake, the trio let themselves into Y/N’s apartment. Trevor insisted on carrying the cake, while Jack and Luke carried the rest.

“She’s gonna love this,” Trevor said, plopping the cake box onto the kitchen counter.

Jack grinned. “Yeah, if we don’t screw it up.”

The three quickly got to work. Jack wrestled with an oversized banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, trying to hang it over the living room window. Trevor blew up balloons, complaining about the lack of a helium tank, while Luke meticulously set up confetti-filled balloons around the coffee table.

“This is looking pretty good,” Luke said, stepping back to admire their handiwork.

“Where do you want the cake?” Trevor asked, balancing it precariously on one hand.

“Counter,” Jack mumbled, still wrestling with the banner. “Let’s finish before she gets home.”

“She’s not home,” Trevor said confidently, grabbing a balloon to blow up.

But he was wrong.

Y/N was home, and she wasn’t alone.

In her bedroom, she and Matt had spent the morning together, enjoying a rare, quiet day off. They’d slept in, laughed over shared jokes, and gotten caught up in each other in a way that made the rest of the world fade into the background.

Matt leaned back against the headboard, a lazy grin on his face. “So, part one of your birthday present?”

“Can it be presented with people around? Or is this a private one” Y/N replied, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“Definitely just us, might give your dad a heartattack” Matt teased, pulling her closer. “Come here”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. They leaned in for another kiss creating explicit faint sounds of muffled noises through the apartment.

Out in the living room, Trevor froze mid-step. “Wait. Did you hear that?”

Jack, teetering on a chair, glanced over his shoulder. “Hear what?”

Trevor held up a hand, signaling for silence. All three of them stilled, ears straining. From down the hallway came the faint sound of moans—deep and unmistakably male and female.

Luke’s face turned bright red. “Oh my.”

“No way,” Trevor whispered, a grin spreading across his face.

Jack hopped down from the chair, his expression one of sheer panic. “It’s not what you think. Maybe she left the TV on.”

Another sound—this time softer, followed by an unmistakable thud—left no room for doubt.

“Oh, this is gold,” Trevor whispered, clutching the edge of the couch for support.

Luke groaned, burying his face in his hands. “We have to leave. Right now.”

“Agreed,” Jack said, already gathering their decorations. “Pack it up. Let’s go.”

Trevor, however, lingered. “Guys. We could just—”

“Nope,” Jack snapped, grabbing Trevor by the arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”

As they scrambled for the door, another sound—one that they really didn’t want to identify—echoed from the bedroom.

“Call Quinn,” Luke muttered as they fled into the hallway. “Call Quinn right now.”

Quinn answered on the second ring. “What’s up?”

Trevor’s voice came through in a near-shout. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”

“What did you do now?” Quinn asked, sounding suspicious.

“We didn’t do anything!” Trevor insisted. “But we went to surprise Y/N for her birthday, and, uh…”

Jack snatched the phone. “We heard them! Her and Matt. Going at it like rabbits.”

“What?!” Quinn sounded half-amused, half-horrified.

Luke’s groan was audible in the background. “It was so bad. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

Trevor took the phone back, grinning. “Quinn, I’m telling you. I’m traumatized, but it was also hilarious.”

“You guys are idiots,” Quinn said, though there was laughter in his voice. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything.”

“We ran out of there so fast, they probably didn’t even know we were there,” Trevor assured him.

“Good,” Quinn said. “Because if Y/N finds out, she’s going to kill you.”

Later that day, Cole joined the group call, his laugh echoing through the line as they recounted the story.

“She’s going to find out eventually,” Cole said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “You guys are the worst.”

Jack groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Meanwhile, back in her apartment, Y/N had no idea what had just transpired—or the chaos that her well-meaning friends had unleashed.

Weeks after her birthday, Y/N found herself seated in a sleek studio alongside Jack, Trevor and Jamie Drysdale, appearing on Instagram live. The atmosphere was casual and lighthearted, the kind of energy Trevor thrived on—and the kind that made Y/N suspicious of what he might say.

Jamie leaned forward with a grin. “So, Y/N, how was your birthday? Heard stuff happened but I’ve been so busy can’t believe I missed it.”

Y/N smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was great, honestly. Very low-key. Just how I like it.”

Trevor, sitting to her left, suddenly perked up, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Not that low-key,” he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jack immediately groaned and slumped in his chair. “Trevor, no.”

“What?” Trevor said innocently, spreading his hands. “It’s a funny story!”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Oh, I need to hear this. What happened?”

Y/N shot Trevor a warning glance, but he was already leaning into the phone, fully committed to his role as the ultimate pot-stirrer.

“So,” Trevor began dramatically, “we thought it would be a good idea to surprise Y/N for her birthday. You know, being the amazing friends we are. Balloons, banners, cake—the works. We figured we’d sneak into her apartment and have it all ready for when she got back.”

Y/N shook her head, already sensing where this was going. “Trevor…”

Trevor ignored her. “The thing is, we didn’t realize she was home—and, uh, she wasn’t alone.”

Jamie burst out laughing. “You’re kidding!”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor continued, grinning ear to ear. “We’re mid-decorating—Luke’s got balloons, Jack’s fighting with a banner—and then we hear…” He paused for dramatic effect, lowering his voice. “Let’s just say we heard things.”

The studio erupted in laughter. Jack buried his face in his hands, muttering, “I told him not to tell this story.”

Trevor was on a roll now. “We froze, completely starstruck. Like, ‘Is that Matt?’ And sure enough…” He trailed off, smirking at Y/N.

Y/N, her face a mix of embarrassment and exasperation, finally spoke up. “Are you serious right now?” She turned to Jamie. “This is Trevor’s favorite pastime—making up ridiculous stories to embarrass me.”

Trevor looked affronted. “Making up? Oh, no, this is 100% real. Ask Luke!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m telling you, it’s not true. Matt and I would never—” She gestured sarcastically and vaguely, clearly trying to keep the conversation from getting too graphic. “This is pure fabrication.”

Jamie leaned in, still laughing. “So you’re saying you weren’t home?”

“I was home,” Y/N admitted, her voice calm but firm. “But Trevor has a very active imagination. Matt and I were for sure watching a movie in the bedroom.”

Jack, seeing an opportunity to back her up, jumped in. “Yeah, I mean…we didn’t actually see anything. We just heard…stuff. Could’ve been the TV.”

Trevor groaned. “Don’t cover for her! You know what we heard.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, please, Trevor. You probably heard muffled sounds and immediately jumped to conclusions. Matt and I were watching a crime thriller.”

Trevor shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

Jamie laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes. “This might be my favorite story of all time.”

Y/N sighed, half-laughing despite herself. “I can’t believe I’m defending my perfectly pg 13 relationship on live.”

“You’re welcome,” Trevor said smugly.

Jack chimed in, trying to steer the conversation away from further disaster. “Honestly, the best part is how fast we ran out of there. Luke didn’t even look back. We just left everything—balloons, streamers, the whole setup. It’s probably still there.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You guys are unbelievable.”

Jamie grinned. “Well, whether it’s true or not, it sounds like Y/N’s birthday was very memorable.”

Trevor gave a mock toast to the phone. “To Y/N and Matt—congrats on keeping things…entertaining.”

Y/N gave him a playful shove, laughing despite her embarrassment. “Next time, maybe knock before you decide to play party planner.”

As the live wrapped, Y/N couldn’t help but shake her head. She might never live this down, but at least life with these guys was never boring.

[ponyosmom35]

once he finds you, you're fucked

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: reader is questions about ghost and his whereabouts

warnings: torture, blood, gore

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Her head throbbed as the cold, damp concrete floor pressed against her back. Her hands were tied tightly behind her, raw from the strain of the ropes. The room around her was dark, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb overhead. She had no idea where they'd taken her, but she could already feel the tension in the air, thick with the scent of oil and decay. Her throat was dry from screaming, but she had no intention of giving them the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

Her mind raced, the thought of Simon filling her thoughts like a storm. Every part of her being screamed for him to find her, to save her. She knew he would. There was no way he would leave her in this place.

Her captor, a gruff man with a scar running down his cheek, paced in front of her, a cruel grin playing on his lips. The others in the room stood back, watching her, waiting for her to crack. He held a folder of photos, his fingers flicking through them like a deck of cards. Then, he paused.

One of the photos was of Simon. Ghost.

The next was of the two of them, taken on a warm spring day. They were laughing, her hand resting on his arm as they stood in a park, the sun casting a glow on his face. She could almost feel the warmth of that day again.

Her jaw tightened. Don't let them see you break.

"You know him, don't you?" The man's voice was low, cruel. His smile widened when he saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes.

She remained silent, staring at him with defiance.

"You're his little girlfriend, aren't you?" he taunted, taking a step closer. "It's not surprising. You've got that same fire in you. Feisty, just like him."

Her lips curled into a sneer, but she didn't answer. She wasn’t about to make this easy for him.

The man's patience was wearing thin. He tossed the photos aside and grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head back. "Tell me what I want to know, sweetheart. Where is Ghost? Where is your little boyfriend?"

She spat at him, the blood in her mouth from previous blows splattering across his face. His expression darkened, and with a growl, he slapped her hard across the face, the sting of his hand leaving a trail of heat behind her ear.

"You're a tough one," he said, wiping the blood from his face. "But I'll break you. I'll make you talk."

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t flinch. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You want to know where he is?" she hissed, her voice full of venom. "He'll be here soon. He'll find you. And when he does, you’ll be fucked."

The man’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she saw a flash of doubt in them. But then the rage returned. He picked up a knife, the steel gleaming in the dim light, and without a word, he plunged it into her stomach, twisting it deep.

Her scream echoed in the room, the pain consuming her like wildfire. Blood poured from the wound, soaking her shirt as her body lurched forward. The man grinned, his face twisted in sadistic pleasure as he pressed the blade deeper.

"Tell me where Ghost is!" he shouted, his breath hot against her face.

But her eyes never left him, even as her body fought to stay conscious. She was shaking, every part of her telling her to just give in, but she refused. She would not break.

Her vision blurred as she struggled to stay awake, the weight of the darkness pressing in on her. Her body ached in ways she hadn’t thought possible, the pain from her wounds only adding to the suffocating despair threatening to consume her. She felt the coldness of the concrete beneath her, the rough ropes digging into her wrists, and her breath came in ragged gasps, each one more difficult than the last.

She could hear the harsh footsteps of her captors pacing around her, the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the corner of the room as they waited for her to break. But she wouldn't. She refused to.

The man in front of her, the one who had been speaking to her with such cruel amusement, stepped closer again, his face twisted into a grin as he watched her closely, his fingers brushing the edge of her bloodstained shirt. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" he sneered, his voice thick with mockery. "Tougher than most. But that's not going to save you."

Her lip curled in a defiant sneer. She wasn’t about to give them what they wanted, not even if it meant her life. "Go ahead," she spat, her voice hoarse. "I don’t know where he is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. He’ll find me. He always does. You’re wasting your time."

The man's grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, his fingers tightening around the knife in his hand. He moved so quickly that she barely saw him coming, but she felt the sharp sting of the blade as it sliced across her stomach, the pain searing through her like fire.

She couldn’t suppress the scream that tore from her throat. Her whole body lurched forward, the ropes digging deeper into her skin, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of begging. She had to hold on.

"You're still not talking?" the man growled, his eyes narrowing. "You think Ghost is going to come and save you? You're nothing but a liability to him now. You're going to break, sweetheart, and when you do, I’ll be the one who gets the answers."

Her head swam with the agony, but she clenched her teeth and glared at him, her gaze unwavering despite the tears that welled in her eyes. She felt the warm trickle of blood from her wounds, but she refused to show weakness. The man’s grip on the knife tightened, and with a low snarl, he cut her again, this time across her arm, the blade slicing through flesh with sickening ease. She gasped, her body jerking involuntarily, but she didn’t give in. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t let him break her.

Her eyes never left his as he loomed over her, his face twisted in anger. "When we’re done with you, you’ll wish you had talked."

She couldn’t stop the flicker of fear that crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a cold smirk. She knew Simon. She knew how far he would go to find her. He would come. He had to.

"You don’t get it," she said, her voice steady despite the pain. "Once Ghost comes for you, none of you will be left standing. He’s ruthless. And you’re just making it worse for yourselves."

The man sneered, his patience running thin. "I don’t need you to tell me how dangerous he is, sweetheart. But if you’re going to be difficult about this, maybe we’ll just have to make sure you look pretty for him."

At that, she felt a chill run down her spine, the implication clear. They would break her in ways that even Simon couldn’t stop. They would use her to get to him, and they would do it in the most brutal, unforgiving ways.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Do your worst."

The man looked at her, eyes cold with malice. Without warning, he slapped her across the face, the force of the blow snapping her head to the side. She felt a sharp pain in her jaw, and her vision blurred for a moment, but she fought to stay conscious, to stay defiant.

"You think you’re tough?" he sneered. "We’ll see how long you last."

The pain from her wounds was becoming unbearable now, the world around her spinning in and out of focus. She could feel herself slipping, her body growing weaker as the blood poured from her wounds, but she held on. She had to.

She couldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they had broken her.

The man turned his back on her, muttering something to the others in the room. Her vision was fading fast, the black spots crawling into the edges of her mind, but she heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Then, footsteps moving toward her again.

When she looked up, the man was standing in front of her once more, and this time, he was holding a gun in his hands. Her heart lurched in her chest, the weight of her situation hitting her with brutal clarity.

"You’ll die before you see him again," he said coldly, pressing the barrel of the gun against her temple.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye. But even in the face of death, she didn’t break. She wouldn’t. She had promised herself that she would never let them see her scared, never let them know how much she longed for Simon to come and save her.

She heard the door creak open. Footsteps. Low voices. But none of it registered in her mind. She was fading fast.

And then, as everything went black, she heard the softest whisper.

The last thing she felt was a wave of calm, as if her body knew what she couldn’t accept: he would come for her.

[cheriebrat]

Bucky gently wiping his girl’s never ending tears as she tries to apologize for trying to escape a third time, promising him she’ll never do it again only for him to chain her back up for the rest of the night but he knows that she’ll be his perfect little Stockholm princess in no time, especially when the winter soldier is there to help sort her out💞

fuckkkkkk.

warnings; fem!reader, kidnapping, early stages of stockholm syndrome, soft but manipulative bucky, mentions of the winter soldier coming out to play (😏), (perhaps opportunity for an au here!!!)

Your cheeks are glossy with the seemingly never ending wave of tears that portend their descent over your flushed cheeks. Your pulse thrums against your neck, skittering like a nervous doe when Bucky's thumb slides over the tender spot beneath your jaw. His amorous touch only serves to have you sobbing harder, tearing at the loose fitting tee that hangs around your neck as though the fabric is suffocating you.

"Shh, shh," Bucky coos, a thumb coasting the length of your waterline – a futile attempt to plug your tear ducts and slow the second onslaught of frantic tears. "Take it easy."

"I'm sorry," you wail. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done it."

Your breath comes in wheezing pants, voice petering out into a whisper as terror's icy grip clamps around your throat and you start to sob in earnest. Bucky sighs, scooping you up tight against his chest and pressing a chaste peck to your sweat-slick temple.

You thrash and cant away from the touch, your body poised tightly and waiting for the punishing blow that is no doubt on its way. His arms tighten over your frame, biceps bulging with the effort it's taking to keep you from squirming out of his grip.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. Stop," he growls, his voice a harsh, grating bite against your fragile ears. Bucky's cadence had come out crueller than he would have liked, and he pets your hair in an effort to dissuade you from panicking beneath his firm grasp.

"Please, I won't do it again. You have to believe me, I'll never do it again," you snivel, bowing your head low until your features are obscured.

"You said that last time, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can't keep doin' this. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Bile crawls up your throat, hot and fast. Your chest burns.

"I feel sick."

"I know." He pulls the hair back from your balmy cheeks as you start to retch and heave, sobs still clawing from your chest all the while. You know what comes next, as does he.

"Please don't- don't put me down there. Please, I'm sorry."

"Do you need me to let Winter out, hm? You want him to take you down there, or me?"

You go stock still. Everything slows, Bucky's voice sticking to your ears like syrup. "No, no. I'll be good, I'm sorry," you croak, lips filling with air as you suppress another retch.

The mere mention of the soldier is enough to halt every ounce of defiance in your body. Winter is far less forgiving than Bucky, and you're not willing to take your chances.

Not tonight.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, smearing a sticky kiss along your cheekbone. "You stay down there tonight and be good for me, and we'll do something nice tomorrow, how about that?" he bargains. "I'll let you pick a movie to watch, and you can sleep in bed with me for as long as you want, yeah?"

You sag like dead weight against Bucky's chest, seeping up the warmth of the skin-on-skin contact while you still have the chance. You're in for a very long - very cold - night.

"Please don't do this to me," you whisper. Desperation clings to your every syllable, weighs down every word you speak until your voice is thick with tears.

"You know I have to, sweetheart."

His kindness makes it worse, you think. If he was cruel, if he didn't show you this... softness, maybe you could find it in yourself to hate him.

But the way he lets you cling to him, kisses the top of your head as he delivers your punishment, murmuring soft, adoring affirmations all the while... You just can't.

And you know when he lets you out in the morning, you'll be good for him. You'll accept him, in his entirety. You'll let him kiss you and tuck you into his side like you've always been there. You'll let him love you.

Maybe you can learn to love him, too.

Bucky knows you can. He just has to give it time.

[pinkydevil16]

Aemond Targaryen x Strong/Targ! Reader

18+, sex, miscarriage, grief, injuries, death

This is not a loving fanfic

Brown hair fell past her face, sticking uncomfortably to her forehead and neck as she tucked her chin against her chest. Her fingers digging into the concrete wall, dirt digging into the skin under her nails and blood rimming her cuticles, each deep breath stung her lungs. 

"Well isn't this a pitiful sight." Aemond's voice grated against her ears as he stood at the end of the corridor, Y/n digging her chipped nails into the concrete and spitting out the pooled blood onto the ground, raising her head to look at him. Blood dripped down her forehead and onto her eye as she glared at his figure, a smirk on his face, sword drawn and ready. Pushing off the wall Y/n placed a hand against the wound on her side, her kidneys screaming in pain and muscles spasming as she held her sword. 

"Not so strong now are you Y/n." The words were spat from his mouth as he walked closer, Y/n laughing as she raised her sword towards him, pointing at his face.

"I will be taking your other eye to hell with me if it is the last thing i do. Your mother can cry over her eyeless boy once more." Her lips curled into a cruel smile as Aemond sneered at her, his sword swinging in a circle around his hand. 

"If my Brother did not demand you were brought back then i would happily slice you through where you stand. But i much prefer watching you suffer by his side slowly dying inside than a quick and easy death." Y/n glared at him as he stepped closer, his sword in a defensive position as Y/n cracked her neck.

"And yet you call me pitiful? You rush around trying to stop his tantrums. You are a glorified wet-nurse." Y/n laughed as she shook her head, inhaling a deep breath and closing her eyes for a split second in pain. Opening them to stare at Aemond as she parted her legs, bending her knees and bouncing slightly in anticipation.

"This has been a fun back and forth but i am not going back." Aemond chuckled as he began walking closer. 

"I doubt you could even swing that sword before you bleed out on the ground." Aemond narrowed his eye as Y/n's eyebrow twitched. 

"Shall we test that theory?" 

Three years earlier

"My darling, what is wrong?" Aegon's voice was sweet, sickly even, as he whispered in her ear. Her body shivering in disgust as his hand pulled her hair from her neck to get closer, hot breath against her skin, penetrating her pours with his smell.

"You are too close." Y/n snipped back, pulled her head away, her hair slipping from his hand as he pouted and turned back to his drink. Y/n clutching her own cup until her fingers ached and begged her to loosen her grip, her eyes staying on Aemond as he smirked at her. His arrogant expression making her wish to slam the cup against his skull and watch his blood fill it until it overflowed. 

Y/n excused herself, happy Aegon was drunk and a maid had taken his fancy allowing her some reprieve for atleast a night from his continuous need for her attention. Her hand reaching her bed chamber door when she heard his voice.

"Leaving your husband so soon?" Y/n turned and leant her body against the door as she watched Aemond close in.

"He has taken a fancy to that little maid and who am i to stop him?" Aemond slammed his hand beside her head, watching her closely for any sign of fear, his lips curling into an arrogant smile as he tilted his head.

"Perhaps you are rushing off to a lover of your own to have bastards just like your mother." He spat out the last word, Y/n scowling as her hands grabbed the fabric of his coat and used her body weight to push the door open, Aemond's eye widening as he was shoved against the wall inside the room. Y/n pressed her body against him, her face tilted up to meet his eyes.

"I suggest you watch your tongue Uncle, it is not wise to spite those who could harm you." Her voice barely above a whisper before his mouth locked onto her own, a moan escaping her throat as he grabbed at her body. Hands on thighs as he hoisted her into the air, her fingers delving into his silky hair and tugging at the root. A groan leaving his throat as he dropped onto the bed, his weight pressing her into the fabric, hands hurriedly bunching up her dress and forcing his own trousers down. Parting for a moment before he plunged into her cunt, Y/n moaning at the painful stretch, one of her hands wrapping around his throat to tug him back to her lips. His own moans mixing into the kiss as he thrust in and out, her hips pinned beneath his own. Her hand pressing further into his throat as his hands dug into the sheets beside her head, his head dropping back as he felt her cunt clench around him, every move sinfully dragging her walls around his cock. His hips snapping against hers as she dug her heels into his butt and pushed him deeper, the hand on his throat pushing his head back as he relished in her grip. 

Y/n felt her stomach warm and his thrusts grow deeper, every thrust pushing a mewl from her throat and a groan from his that vibrated against her fingers. Her other hand slipping from his hair to grip him arm, swiping his elbow out from under him and throwing him onto his back. Her body barely disconnecting from his own before her legs bounced up and down, a choked moan leaving his throat as she pressed down with her weight. His hands finding her hips and slamming her down onto his cock as he watched her take him. Y/n could hear and feel his arousal peaking, her eyes open and watching him as he drowned in his lust, his grip digging into her dress to cling to her skin under it. Rolling her hips she let out a moan and lifted off his cock, his chest rumbling as he came over her thighs and his lower stomach. Her hands leaving his body as she dropped onto the bed next to him, both panting before she got up and went to the door, opening it quickly before hurrying him out.

"This is the last time Aemond." A glare back on her face as he tucked himself into his trousers and stood before her, towering over her before humming. The door closing behind him as Y/n let out a sigh and rushed to clean herself from him.

 A year later 

"Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the iron throne." Criston's words echoed through the grand hall, Y/n kept her head turned away from the ceremony, Aemond next to her as he gripped her arm painfully behind her back. A warning. 

"Now go and kiss your husband and King." The words were whispered into her ear as Aegon rose from the ground, the grip on her arm tightening until she heard a crack, her eyes finding Aemond's as she sneered at him.

"A usurper is not a true King." Pulling away from him as she walked towards Aegon, Alicent's eyes intently on her as Aegon smiled at his wife. His hand raising to cup her face as he drew her into a kiss, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her. Y/n pulling back quickly, his hand laid gently against her cheek as he looked at her expectantly. Bending down onto one knee Y/n kissed his hand, pressing her forehead into the back of his hand as she held back her tears. Hearing Aemond hum before the crowd erupted into cheers, Aegon turning and raising his arms as he lavished in the praise of the people.

"Come." Alicent pulled Y/n from the ground, guiding her to Aemond but Y/n yanked her arm out of the hold and disappeared into the crowd. Aemond chasing after her as she ran through the halls, her heavy dress tucked into her palms as she heard his loud footsteps behind her, his sword clanking against his leg. His hand reaching her arm and slamming her against the wall as she closed her eyes and grit her teeth, tears prickling her eyes but she refused to let them fall as she gazed at Aemond.

"The whole Realm will know you support him now, i am sure your Mother will weep that her only daughter has abandoned her." Y/n's palm met his face, his eyepatch landing on the ground as her chest rose and fell with each angered breath. 

"You one-eyed cunt, i despise you, i despise him and i despise your fucking mother. When my Mother takes the crown from Aegon's dead cold fingers i will pluck your eye from your head and feed it to your mother." Aemond only smirked at her anger, chuckling before grabbing her hair and pulling her through the corridor to the bed chambers, throwing her in and slamming the door as she scrambled up. Y/n hitting the door as she screamed, a pure hatred filled scream as Aemond walked away. 

Aemond found himself outside her bed chamber once night fell, pushing the door open and relishing in her beauty as she sat by the fire. Her expression blank as he entered, kneeling before her as his hands ran from her ankles to her hips, her night dress bunching at his wrists before he tugged her hips towards him. His eye on her as she stared at him, neither saying anything before he leant down and bit her inner thigh, her cheek between her teeth as he sucked on the soft skin. His head lowered further until she wrapped her hands in his hair, only able to see the top of his head as he delved into her cunt. Her head falling back against the chair, back arching to push her cunt into his tongue as he lapped at her clit. Her breath catching in her throat as she almost choked on her own spit, his tongue working her closer to the edge as she heard each movement as she drenched his chin. Small moans leaving her throat as she clung to his hair, eyes half closed and legs thrown over his shoulder as he gripped them. Forcing them wider as the fire crackling next to them, the heat prickling her toes as she curled them, small pants leaving her throat as she pressed his head into her cunt. His hands leaving finger prints along her skin as she wiggled and squirmed in his hold, moans growing louder as her chest rose and fell, body coming undone. Aemond slowed his tongue until each swipe made her shiver, his hair yanked hard forcing him to look at her as she pulled him from her thighs, letting his head go when he leant back.

"This changes nothing, i will always despise you." Y/n turned her head, staring into the fire as Aemond stood, wiping his mouth as Y/n tucked her legs up and covered her body with her night dress. Aemond leaving without a word, the door closing as he rounded the corner, his eye widening as Aegon stumbling down the hall drunk. Passing Aemond, unable to see him in his drunken haze as Aemond watched as Aegon pushed open the door he had just left.

"Darling lay on the bed-" the door closed behind Aegon as Aemond clenched his hand, lifting one to touch his lips where he could taste Y/n's cum, still fresh and the moment tender in his mind as he stormed away. 

3 months later 

Y/n's screams of anguish could be heard through the halls as maids held her on the ground, Aemond staring at her in horror as her nails dug into the ground and almost split from the pressure. Her body wracked with sobs as she cried for her younger brother, every tear followed by a scream of grief that overwhelmed her. 

"Get out." Y/n screamed, her voice hoarse and broken as maids rushed out, Aemond glued to the ground as she stared up at him.

"Get out you murderer! You disgusting bastard get out." Her fists pelted the ground as she glared at him, his body staying still as he watched her crumple and break, a tear welling up in his eye as he gulped. 

"I-" Y/n's scream stopped him from speaking as she held her stomach and hunched over, falling onto her side as her body shook with tears.

"Get away from me." Y/n clutched her stomach tightly as she felt her heart race and inside twist in agony, Aemond's eye widening as she gripped her dress exposing her lower legs. Fresh red blood dripped down her legs, staining her dress and pooling onto the ground as she cried out in pain. 

"GO!" Y/n screamed so hard Aemond thought the walls would shake, doors opening as guards entered, Alicent following with Criston before she gasped.

"Get a maester now!" Aemond felt arms on him, pushing him out the room as Y/n shoved off anyone trying to touch her, still screaming at Aemond as the doors closed. The heavy wood barely muffling her desperate cries and wailing, the door opening and closing as maesters and maids entered and exited, bloody cloth and towels disposed of.  

"She lost the babe." Aegon's voice was full of sorrow as he drank his pain away, Aemond sat across from him with white knuckles and his tongue between teeth. 

"I did not know-"

"The maesters did not say if it were a boy, but i know it would have been. Another son."  Aegon's words were slurred as he rambled, not taking care of what Aemond said or his brother's remorseful face. 

"Jahaerys. That was to be his name. A fine name for the second prince." Aemond could not take the pain and stood, leaving his brother to drown his sorrows as he wandered the halls. The air knocked from his lungs as he saw her. The door ajar and candles lit around where she sat on the ground, the night dress she wore still had blood coating the rim and her hair was matted at the back of her head. Leaning against the doorway he watched her light another candle.

"I should thank you." Her voice was shakey as well as her hand as she placed the candle down and stared out the window, the moonlight coming through and illuminating her in the circle of candles. 

"You relieved me of a burden." Aemond felt tears pool in his eye as she turned to him, eyes blood shot and red, cheeks puffy and nose pink as she showed him her stained hands. Blood coated under each nails and wrinkle, scratch marks down her arms and scrub marks on her wrists.

"You killed my brother and in doing so you killed your own brother's child too. You must feel satisfied. Full of pride even. It is what you have always wanted...To tear him apart from the inside out and in doing so you have ripped me apart aswell." Aemond went to move closer but stopped when she flinched, her eyes wide and doe like, no hatred in them as she cried. 

"Do you intend to go to the nursery and slaughter my son and daughter where they sleep? Would that satiate your need to hurt me?" Y/n sobbed, words jumbling together as she fell forward, laying her head against the ground as the candles burnt down and extinguished one by one. Aemond only able to watch as Y/n crumbled into nothing. 

A month later

Y/n sat in the nursery, her daughter in her lap whilst her Son was with Aegon, teaching him all the things Viserys never taught his own children.

"Mama, can we pick the flowers?" Y/n stared down at Rhaenys, pushing her white hair back and kissing her forehead before nodding.

"We can do anything you want Princess." A maid coming over to pick the four year old up as Y/n accepted the guards help to stand, her body still recovering from the miscarriage. Thanking him as Rhaenys reached out for her mother, the maid giving her a concerned look when Y/n reached for her.

"I will be fine." The maid nodded quickly and stepped back, head lowered in respect as she and the guard followed closely behind. 

Y/n sat in the meadow, her daughter running around and picking flowers, the maid chasing her as she tried to collect each one before the Princess grabbed another.

"Mama!" Y/n felt small hands grab her shoulders, trying to wrap around her as her son hugged her tightly, a smile coming across her face as she pulled him around to sit across her lap. The boy of six laughing as Y/n tickled him, ignoring the pain in her muscles as he kicked at her unaware of how fragile his mother was.

"Aemon be careful your mother cannot fight like the guards can." The little boy gasped and apologised as Y/n laughed and pet his hair, hurrying him after his sister.

"He asked me if he can have a brother soon." Aegon looked down at Y/n expectedly as she let out a cold laugh and stood, looking at Aegon in disgust as she spoke.

"Then fuck one of your whores and be done with it." Before Aegon could respond Y/n walked towards the children, kissing their heads as she laughed at their antics. Leaving a moment later, Aegon calling the children back to him and picking his daughter up.

"Look at me." Y/n refused to raise her eyes, staring past his chest to her bed chamber door, Aemond holding her arms tightly and shaking her as she ignored him. His anger besting him as he grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him as he glared down at her.

"I did not know you were with child." Y/n let out a scoff, shoving his hands off her as she stepped back, placing a distance between them that jabbed Aemond in the heart in a way that made him want to crumple to the ground.

"Would that have stopped you? Would that have truly saved Lucerys' life? If you do think it would have then you are blissfully unaware of your own insanity and desires because i can say without a single doubt you would have done it regardless. You are an impulsive child just like your brother, just like your mother and if you ever are gifted a child they will be just as you are. You do not feel remorse for what you did, only for being stupid and celebrating it with no regard for others. I have said it once and i will say it as many times as it takes for you to leave me alone. I despise you Aemond, i detest you so deeply it feels as though a dagger is digging into my heart and tearing it open every time i look at you. When i speak to you my throat burns with each word, it makes my blood boil and scars my insides. The mere thought of you near me makes me want to gut myself and pull each organ out for it would be easier to tolerate than your presence." Aemond stared at Y/n as she spoke, every word stabbing him deeper, cutting into the wound and dragging salt along the edges. 

"I hate myself for allowing you inside of me, to corrode me from the inside out and poison my soul as yours is." 

6 months later

Y/n downed her wine, her hands shaking as she stared in the mirror, her eyes sunk in and hair braided away from her face. 

"My darling, come to bed." Y/n looked away from her reflection looking at Aegon as he stripped of his shirt, his trousers following soon after leaving him bare as he laid on the sheets. Y/n walking towards him, her night dress pooling by her feet as she climbed on and crawled towards him, a smirk on his face that made her want to smother him. But she had a duty and Aegon was sure to remind her of it every time he entered her bed chamber, wearing her down until she accepted it. His cold hands pulling her hips to him, as she drowned in her thoughts.

Her fingers gripped the bowl tightly, the maid behind her fussing over Y/n as she threw up, tears staining her cheeks as she violently wretched up anything in her stomach. Aegon having only left minutes prior but her body could not take it and needed him out of her as quick as possible, to force her body to be rid of him. But she knew it would have worked, it always seemed to, when he wanted a child bad enough her body provided. And she wished for nothing more to be barren. When she was young she dreamt of being a mother, to raise her children in dragonstone alongside her mother and father, to show them the same love she was. She did not feel like a mother, she felt like a vessel, she loved her children dearly but she did not think she would kill for them. Not in the way her mother would, she would fight but she would not move the stars for her children. She did not have it inside her, to love them as deeply as they deserved, for they were his. Aemon belonged to the crown and when Rhaenys had been born she thought she would be hers, but she was not, she was betrothed before she was three. A promise that she would lose her. 

"Run me a bath." Y/n barely raised her head from the bowl, eyes cast down as she felt her insides twist, ready to expel him once more.

"I am sorry my lady, i cannot, the King instructed us to only hand wash you. To...to ensure you would have a babe." At her words Y/n's stomach flipped, bile rising and burning her throat as she threw it up, her body shaking as more came up. Even when nothing would come out her body wretched and forced every ounce of fluid it could from her stomach. 

Aemond leant against the fire place, the wood crackling as he watched Y/n enter, her eyes finding his before she looked away and closed the door. His eye following her as she approached him, her hands raising and gripping his shirt as she pulled him towards her.

"Do not kiss me." Aemond could smell the wine on her breath mixed with bile, the smell bitter and burnt his nostrils as he inhaled. Nodded as Y/n walked him to the bed, pushing him down and climbing into his lap. Her body limp against his as he rolled her onto her back, pushing her night dress up and repressing a moan at the site of her cunt, months of desire building up as he pulled his cock free. Head thrown back as he thrust into her, moaning at the heat enveloping him as he took his pleasure. Every thought stolen from his mind as he relished in her body, eye closed and hands gripping the sheets as he took what he wanted. Y/n stared at the ceiling, her hands clutching at his arms as she felt the bile in her throat, her insides twisting in disgust at each thrust. She wanted the pain, wanted to feel the hatred course through her veins. She wanted to punish herself. 

Aemond groaned as he opened his eye, looking down at Y/n, moving a hand to grab her jaw and bring her back to him. Leaning down to kiss her when her head turned quickly, an annoyed grunt leaving him as he laid kisses along her throat and collar bone. Wanting to mark her, to make her feel his every emotion and desire with a kiss but he did not want to lose this moment. Not when she clung to him and panted with a roll of his hips, his mind clouding as he dropped his hand to grasp her breast. Rolling her nipple in his fingers as he felt her clench around him, each roll of his hips and pinch bringing her closer until she moaned and came around his cock. His own thrusts stuttering until he went to pull out, her legs locking around him and forcing him deeper as he choked out a moan and came, his eye wide and face filled with shock as her legs dropped. Hands shoving him away and curling herself into a ball, his body stumbling back as he stared at her in horror. Her face hidden as she turned to lay on her side, body shaking as she began to cry, fists clutching the sheets as she cried out and shook. 

"Get out." Her voice was quiet but he heard it clear, echoing in his head as he stumbled back and ran from the room, leaving her alone. 

8 months later

Aegon held Y/n's hand as she pushed, her nails digging into the back of his hand and splitting the skin as she cried out in pain. The maester crouched between her legs as he wiggled the babes head, calling out for Y/n to push harder as she screamed through gritted teeth and pushed, Aegon praising her as she pushed his hand away.

"Get it the fuck out of me!" Y/n shouted as she pushed again, a loud cry signally the babe was out as Y/n flopped back onto the bed and let out a sigh. Her head pounded, the room seemed to spin and she wished to sleep. Instead she was cleaned, changed and forced to sit in a chair feeding the babe whilst Aegon announced his son. Y/n stared at the babe, her fingers caressing his face before she called for the wet nurse.

"Take him." The nurse nodded and took him away quickly, leaving Y/n by the fire, staring at it for hours before she hummed and forced herself to stand. Staring at her bed, the sheets changed but she could smell the blood lingering in the air, climbing in as she winced and tried not to cry at every movement. Left alone to heal whilst the grand hall filled with cheers and every man and lord drank until they passed out. 

A few hours before

Y/n stared at her son, only a six months old but she knew, knew that he was not Aegon's. The thought alone made her feel sick to her stomach, he had the same eyes as Aemond, such a difference to her other children. As she looked across the nursery she felt no happiness, no desire to look at her children, nothing but emptiness. Nothing but the need to punish herself, for the life she lived. Standing she left the nursery, finding her way outside as she fell to her knees and dug her hands into the ground. Tears prickling her eyes as she gripped the dirt, pulling her hand up and slamming her fist back down. Looking towards the sky, the night rolling in as she stared at the moon, trying to recall the last time she felt anything but hatred. A feeling other than emptiness, a want or desire to be happy. She could not think of it, she could not think of anything that could make her happy. Instead she looked at her hands, sneering at the dirt making its way into every crevice of her skin, imprinting itself on her. The same way everyone had, not giving her a choice, only forcing her to accept it was there. 

Y/n stood in the nursery, her son no longer sleeping with his siblings, the heir being given more duties whilst her daughter and babe slept soundly. She could hear the echo of Aegon's words playing in her mind. Another one. He would always want another. Would not settled until he had a hoard of them. Until her body was wrecked and she died to give him another. Her hand settled on the dagger in her hand, her eyes staying on the babe as she dug it into the her side, yanking it into her stomach before dropping it. Looking down at the blood and dirt that stained her hands, the burning of her insides nothing compared to the agony in her heart as she stumbled down the corridor. Finding a guard half asleep as she grabbed his sword, running him through before he could scream, the metal heavy in her hands as she collapsed into the wall. Heaving at the pain and yet finding comfort in the simpleness of it all. The ease of it, pushing off the wall and staggering towards the castle gates. She refused to die in her prison. A spark of happiness fired in her blood, a second wind hitting her as she leaned against a wall, catching her breath and clutching her side.

Present

Aemond held his sword high as Y/n slammed hers down, her whole weight falling into the sword as she slashed at him wildly, his feet moving like a dance as he moved back and dodged. Grunts coming from both as Y/n swiped at his side, throwing her sword in the air and grabbing it with the side of her hand, slashing at him as she cut across his chest. Aemond stumbling back as he grunted in pain, a hand coming to his chest as he looked at the blood coating his hand and violently swung at her. Both dancing against the other as the swords clashed, Y/n's body slowing as she gritted her teeth and landed harder blows, throwing her weight into each swing. Slamming her sword down from over her head and into his own, letting out a cry as both sword fell to the ground, her body falling forward in exhaustion as Aemond caught her. Y/n coughed as she tasted metallic blood, crimson dribbling from her mouth as Aemond crouched to the ground and held her close. Pushing her damp hair from her face and cradling it as she glared at him.

"Do not pity me, i do not want your sympathy or whatever this facade is." Aemond shook his head, ignoring her as he wiped the blood from her mouth, smearing it across her cheek as he stared down at her.

"I do not pity you...just do not die." His voice was soft, dropping the malicious tone he frequently used, his hand touching her as if she would break. Y/n let out a cold laugh and began coughing, more blood spluttering from her lips as she grinned at him.

"I have been dead for years, a walking corpse through out these halls and yet you never minded. You only wish for me to live to be a pawn, but i am taking back control." Aemond looked at her stomach, blood pooled around the wound as he watched her dig her fingers deeper, ripping the skin open as she cried out in pain. His hands coming to grab at her hands but he could inside her body, her organs almost spilling out as he tried to stop the bleeding. But he knew, just as she did as she coughed again and laughed, shaking her head as she stared past him.

"I cannot wait to see Lucerys." Her voice was weaker as he watched her eyes widen, her eyes going dark until he could barely see the colour, only black staring back at him as she stopped breathing. Her blood coating his hands as he grabbed her face and shook her, calling her name and demanding she woke up. 

[elryuse]

Obsessive Yandere noona Taeyeon who’s 15 years older than the male reader? Everything about him, his look, smell, taste, and feel just drive/ her senses into overdrive. He is like her fountain of youth.

HER FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

YANDERE TAEYEON X YOUNGER MALE READER

Taeyeon, a woman of quiet strength, had weathered life's storms with grace and resilience. At 29, she'd been left to navigate the treacherous waters of life alone, a victim of love's betrayal. Her husband, the man she had trusted with her heart, had abandoned her, leaving her to bear the weight of shattered dreams and a broken heart.

The pain of his departure was compounded by the loss of her child, a young soul who had chosen a different path. The world, once vibrant and full of promise, now seemed bleak and unforgiving. Taeyeon retreated into a shell of solitude, her spirit dimmed by the weight of loneliness.

Years passed, and Taeyeon, now in her forties, had learned to live with the scars of the past. She had built a life for herself, a life filled with quiet dignity and understated beauty. But deep down, a part of her yearned for connection, for love.

Then, Y/N entered her life, a young man of 25, brimming with youthful energy and unbridled optimism. His presence was a breath of fresh air, a reminder that life could still hold joy and wonder.

Y/N was drawn to Taeyeon's quiet strength, her wisdom, and her unwavering spirit. He saw beyond her years, beyond the pain she had endured. He saw a woman of depth and beauty, a woman who deserved to be loved.

As their friendship blossomed, so too did Taeyeon's obsession. She found herself consumed by his every word, his every gesture, his every breath. She craved his attention, his affection, his love. The more she got to know him, the more she wanted him, the more she needed him.

Her obsession grew into a dark, possessive love, a love that was all-consuming and destructive. She began to monitor his every move, to control his every action. She would follow him, unseen, a shadow lurking in the darkness. She would intercept his messages, read his emails, and listen to his phone calls.

She became a master of manipulation, using her charm and intelligence to control those around him. She would sow seeds of doubt, spread rumors, and sabotage his relationships. All in the name of love, a twisted, distorted love that knew no bounds.

Y/N, oblivious to her obsession, continued to see the best in her. He was drawn to her kindness, her intelligence, and her unwavering support. He had no idea that the woman he admired was capable of such darkness.

As their relationship deepened, so too did Taeyeon's obsession. She became increasingly possessive, jealous, and controlling. She would lash out at anyone who dared to threaten her claim on Y/N, her jealousy a consuming fire.

One day, Taeyeon crossed a line. She confronted a young woman who had dared to flirt with Y/N. The confrontation turned violent, a terrifying display of Taeyeon's dark side. The young woman was left shaken, traumatized by the encounter.

Y/N, horrified by Taeyeon's behavior, confronted her. He demanded to know what had happened, what had turned her into a monster. Taeyeon, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and madness, confessed her obsession.

Y/N was stunned, his heart heavy with sorrow. He had loved her, truly loved her. But now, he saw the darkness that consumed her, the monster she had become.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just love you so much."

Y/N, his heart aching, turned away. He couldn't help her. He couldn't save her. He could only hope that she would find the help she needed, that she would break free from the darkness that had consumed her.

Taeyeon was left alone, a prisoner of her own obsession. She had lost everything she had ever loved, her sanity, her soul. The love she had craved had turned into a nightmare, a haunting reminder of the destructive power of desire.

Y/N had managed to distance himself from Taeyeon, but the damage had been done. The once vibrant and hopeful young man was now haunted by the darkness that had consumed her. He had learned a hard lesson about the destructive power of obsession, a lesson he would never forget.

Meanwhile, Taeyeon, left alone with her twisted desires, descended deeper into madness. Her obsession with Y/N had become all-consuming, a force that threatened to obliterate her sanity. She would stalk him, monitor his every move, and interfere in his life, always lurking in the shadows, a malevolent presence.

One day, Taeyeon decided to take matters into her own hands. She orchestrated a series of events, a carefully crafted plan to bring Y/N back to her. She staged a kidnapping, a terrifying ordeal that left Y/N traumatized and shaken.

When Y/N woke up, he found himself trapped in a secluded cabin, a prisoner of Taeyeon's twisted love. She had created a world for them, a world where they were alone, where she could control every aspect of his life.

"Welcome back, my love," she purred, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "We're finally together."

Y/N, terrified and confused, struggled to break free from her clutches. He knew that he had to escape, to break free from her grasp before it was too late. But Taeyeon was always one step ahead, anticipating his every move.

She would manipulate his emotions, playing on his fears and insecurities. She would shower him with affection, only to withdraw it just as quickly, leaving him feeling lost and alone. She would gaslight him, convincing him that his perceptions were flawed, that his reality was a mere illusion.

Y/N, caught in her web of deceit, began to doubt his own sanity. He questioned his perception of reality, his sense of self. The line between truth and illusion blurred, and he found himself trapped in a nightmare of his own making.

As time passed, Y/N's spirit began to break. The constant manipulation, the psychological torture, had taken its toll. He was a mere shell of his former self, a shadow of the vibrant young man he once was.

But even in the darkest of times, a flicker of hope remained. A spark of defiance, a refusal to succumb to despair. He knew that he had to fight, to break free from Taeyeon's clutches, no matter the cost.

With renewed determination, Y/N began to plot his escape. He bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And when the opportunity arose, he seized it, breaking free from Taeyeon's grasp.

The escape was a harrowing ordeal, a battle of wills that pushed both Y/N and Taeyeon to their limits. In the end, Y/N emerged victorious, but the experience had left him scarred, both physically and emotionally.

Taeyeon, defeated and broken, was left to confront the consequences of her actions. She had lost everything she had ever loved, her sanity, her soul. The love she had craved had turned into a nightmare, a haunting reminder of the destructive power of obsession.

Y/N had escaped the clutches of Taeyeon's obsession, but he knew that the danger was far from over. She was a woman capable of great evil, a force of nature that could not be easily contained. He had to be vigilant, always looking over his shoulder, always ready to defend himself.

He moved to a new city, a place where he could start anew, a place where Taeyeon wouldn't find him. He changed his appearance, his habits, his entire identity. He thought he had successfully erased his past, his connection to the woman who had nearly destroyed him.

But Taeyeon was always watching. She had a network of spies, a watchful eye that extended far beyond her reach. She knew where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. She was always one step ahead, always lurking in the shadows.

One day, as Y/N was walking down the street, he felt a familiar gaze upon him. He turned around, but saw nothing. Yet, he knew she was there, watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And strike she did. She orchestrated a series of events, a carefully planned scheme to lure him back into her web. She used his friends, his family, his past to manipulate him, to draw him closer to her.

Y/N, caught in her intricate web of deceit, found himself drawn back to her. He was helpless, a puppet on a string, dancing to her tune. She had him exactly where she wanted him, a captive in her twisted world.

Taeyeon, with a cruel smile, watched as Y/N succumbed to her will. She had won. She had him. And she would never let him go.

A few years later...

Taeyeon sat beside Y/N, her fingers gently tracing the contours of his face. A soft, sinister smile played on her lips as she admired her captive. Y/N, once a vibrant soul, now lay before her, a mere shell of his former self. His eyes, once filled with life and hope, were now dull and lifeless, a vacant stare fixed on the ceiling.

A chilling silence filled the room, broken only by the soft ticking of a clock. Taeyeon leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. She began to sing a haunting lullaby, a melody that seemed to seep into his soul.

"Hush now, my love, close your weary eyes," she crooned, her voice a soothing poison. "The world outside is cruel, filled with lies."

Y/N's body trembled involuntarily, his eyes slowly fluttering shut. Taeyeon continued to sing, her voice growing louder, more insistent.

"Sleep now, my love, let me cradle your dreams. I'll protect you forever, it seems."

Tears, silent and solitary, trickled down Y/N's cheeks. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own mind, a victim of a love gone awry. Taeyeon, the once-loving woman, had transformed into a monstrous figure, a harbinger of darkness.

As the sun began to rise, casting long shadows across the room, Taeyeon tightened her grip on Y/N. Her love, a twisted and destructive force, had consumed them both. And in the end, only darkness remained.

- The End -

[whatisthisdrea]

Pook pook ima need u to write me the freakiest, nastiest, filthiest, DISGUSTINGEST Bucky barnes smut in the history of smut. Need him and that fuck ass thunderbolts bob

[Alter Ego] - Bucky Barnes x reader

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes drinking in the serenity of their surroundings. The cabin's windows gleamed with the warm light from within, and she could see the flicker of a crackling fireplace through the glass. The door creaked open, and she stepped inside, the warmth enveloping her like a lover's embrace. The interior was cozy, with a large, plush couch in front of the fireplace.

"You like it?" Bucky said, his voice rumbling through the quiet space as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes searched hers, looking for any hint of doubt or dissatisfaction.

Y/N nodded eagerly, unable to contain her excitement. She stepped closer to him, her eyes traveling over his muscular arms. "It's perfect, Bucky," she murmured, her gaze lingering on the intricate tattoos that wove their way over his biceps and forearms, a silent testament to his past. "Better than I ever imagined."

"Mmhmm, you hungry?" Bucky said, his tone teasing and filled with amusement.

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. "No, Bucky," she said, her voice softly purr. "I was thinking about something else."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing as he stepped fully into the cabin, his arms sliding around her waist. His hands were warm and firm, the touch sending a thrill down her spine. "And what's that?" he asked, his breath warm against her neck.

Y/N turned in his embrace, looking up at him with a mischievous smile. "I was thinking," she began, her voice a sultry whisper, "that maybe it's time we try something new."

Bucky's eyebrow shot up, a look of surprise and intrigue crossing his features. He had seen so much of the world and done things that no one should ever have to do, and yet, with her, he was still discovering new facets of himself. His grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly, and he tilted his head, waiting for her to elaborate.

Y/N took a moment, her heart racing in anticipation of his response. She knew that Bucky was a gentle soul, but she had felt the restrained power within him, the intensity that he kept tightly leashed. She wanted to explore that side of him, the side that was wild and untamed. "I want you to be more rougher with me," she finally said, her voice a soft yet firm command.

Bucky's eyes searched hers, a flicker of surprise mingling with something darker, something primal. He swallowed hard, the cords in his neck standing out. He had never taken her like that before, but the idea of it sent a jolt of excitement through him. He could see the hunger in her eyes, the desire to delve into the depths of their connection.

But deep down, Bucky felt it was a bad idea. He was worried he would hurt her, that the beast he had buried for so long would rear its head and destroy the fragile trust they had built. He had always been careful with her, treating her with the tenderness she deserved after the horrors she had faced. The thought of losing control and letting his past consume him again was terrifying.

"I don't know, baby," he said, taking a step back. His voice was hoarse, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. "I'm not sure I can do that."

Y/N stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. She placed her hand on his cheek, her touch gentle despite the demand in her voice. "I trust you," she whispered, her thumb brushing against the rough stubble. "I know you'd never hurt me."

Bucky's eyes searched hers, the turmoil within him clear. He was torn between the desire to give her what she wanted and the fear of losing control. He knew the depths of his own darkness, the things he had done as the Winter Soldier. But she saw past all of that, straight into the heart of the man he was trying to become.

Suddenly, his head started to hurt—a sharp, stabbing pain that took him by surprise. He turned his back against her, groaning as his hand shot up to clutch his forehead. It was like the walls of the cabin were closing in on him, the memories of his past threatening to swallow him whole.

"Buck, are you okay?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with concern as she reached out to him.

Bucky took a deep, shaky breath, trying to shake off the sudden onset of pain. "Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, his voice strained. "Just a headache."

Y/N's eyes searched his, her concern growing. "You're sure?" she pressed, her hand hovering near his shoulder, ready to offer comfort.

Bucky nodded, but his eyes remained squeezed shut, the pain in his head now a full-blown assault. He knew what was happening; the mind games Hydra had played on him were resurfacing, the conditioning trying to take hold once again. He had to fight it, had to keep the beast at bay. He took a deep, shuddering breath and felt the room spin around him.

"B-Buck," Y/N's voice was small, barely a whisper. She had never seen him like this, so vulnerable and lost in his own mind. The silence stretched between them, thick and oppressive.

Suddenly, his heavy breathing stopped. His back was still turned against her, as if he were bracing himself against an invisible enemy. The quiet was so profound that the crackling fire sounded like thunder in the background. Y/N's heart raced, her palms sweaty. She didn't know what was happening but knew she had to help.

"Buck," she said softly, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. He flinched at the contact, his whole body tensing.

Slowly he turned around, and Y/N gasped. Bucky's eyes, once the vibrant blue that mirrored the endless sky, had turned dark, almost black. They were empty, devoid of the warmth and kindness she had grown to cherish. It was as if the soul she knew was being swallowed by shadows.

"B-Buck," she stuttered, taking a step back.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Bucky's hand shot out and grabbed her, his metal arm pressing against her throat gently. She gasped, her eyes wide with shock and a hint of fear. But instead of the pain she anticipated, she felt his warm breath against her cheek, his voice low and gruff in her ear. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a mix of the Bucky she knew and something darker, something more primal.

He crushed his lips to hers, the kiss demanding and possessive. Y/N's body responded instinctively, melting into his embrace despite the initial shock. His other hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as his tongue sought hers. The hand around her throat tightened just a fraction, the pressure thrilling rather than terrifying. She moaned into the kiss, the sound a blend of surprise and arousal

The hand that had been resting on his chest started to travel down her body, the touch sending waves of heat through her core. His metal fingers skimmed over the fabric of her shirt, tracing the curve of her waist before hooking under the hem. With a swift, powerful movement, he ripped the garment away, the sound of fabric tearing echoing through the cabin. Her naked breasts were exposed to the cool air, her nipples pebbling with desire.

This wasn't the gentle Bucky she knew; this was the Winter Soldier, staking his claim. His eyes, once filled with love and care, were now cold and calculating. The touch of his metal hand was firm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He was no longer her protector but a predator, and she was his prey.

Bucky dropped to his knees, his mouth latching onto one of her breasts, the cold metal of his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. His tongue flicked and danced around her nipple, teasing it into a peak before sucking hard, eliciting a gasp that turned into a moan. Y/N's hands found themselves in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp as she urged him closer. His human hand reached up to clamp down on her other breast, squeezing and kneading, his thumb brushing over her nipple in time with his rhythmic sucking.

With a sudden jerk, he released her nipple with a wet pop, leaving it red and sensitive. He gave her a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, the coldness there sending a shiver down her spine. His metal hand slammed down on her ass, the sound echoing in the quiet cabin. The sting of pain melded with the heat of desire, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

"You want it rough, darling?" He growled, his voice thick with a lust she had never heard from him before. "You got it."

In one fluid motion, Bucky stood, lifting Y/N with ease and throwing her over the couch. She yelled in surprise, her body landing with a soft thud on the plush cushions. The fabric of her jeans scraped against the material as he flipped her around, her cheek pressing into the warm leather. Now, she was face down, her legs hanging over the armrest, her ass high in the air. The position was vulnerable, exposed, and it sent a thrill through her body.

He stepped closer, his booted foot nudging her thighs apart. Y/N's heart raced as she felt the cool metal of his prosthetic hand trace the seam of her pants, the anticipation making her wet. And then, without warning, his tongue darted out, a single, hot stroke that sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. He bent down and took a lick of her pussy, the sensation so unexpected and intense that she gasped, her hips bucking up to meet his mouth. The taste of her arousal on his tongue was intoxicating, the scent of her desire filling the air.

The sound of her moaning grew louder as he started to eat her out, his tongue delving into her folds, exploring every inch of her with a hunger that was both new and thrilling. He licked and sucked, the pressure building with each pass, his teeth grazing her clit lightly. The sensation was overwhelming, and Y/N could feel herself losing control. Her body writhed beneath his ministrations, her hands clutching at the couch cushions as she tried to hold on to reality.

Her juices started to soak his face, but the Winter Soldier didn't care. He was lost in the taste of her, the sweetness of her arousal only fueling his desire. His human hand reached up to grip her hip, keeping her in place as he feasted on her pussy. Y/N's body tightened, her legs trembling as she felt the beginnings of an orgasm coiling deep within her. "Bucky," she moaned, her voice muffled by the fabric of the couch.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her skin. "Not yet," he murmured, his tongue swirling around her clit. The anticipation was unbearable, the pleasure building in waves that threatened to crash over her at any moment. She could feel her muscles tensing, her body begging for release.

"P-please," she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea.

Bucky's eyes narrowed, his grip on her hips tightening. He knew that she was begging for release, but he wasn't ready to give it to her just yet. He loved the sound of her pleas, the way she trembled under his touch. He pulled back slightly, his tongue tracing a wet path up her spine, leaving her gasping for air. The anticipation was palpable, the tension in the room thick with desire.

"P-please," Y/N begged, her voice needy and desperate. The sound of it made something primal stir within him, a beast that had been kept at bay for so long. He couldn't resist her, not when she was like this, so open and willing. With a feral groan, he gave her ass a good, hard spank, the sound echoing through the cabin.

"Oh fuck," she screamed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing with the force of it. She felt the wetness between her legs, heard the slap of skin on skin as Bucky's hand connected with her flesh again and again. It was as if he was punishing her for her desires, marking her as his. And she loved it. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, her juices soaking the leather armrest.

But the sound of her pleasure seemed to enrage the beast within him. He pulled away from her abruptly, his eyes flashing with something darker than lust. "What the hell?" he growled, his voice deep and guttural. "You're not allowed to come until I say you can."

Y/N looked over her shoulder at him, panting and flushed. "Bucky," she whispered, "I couldn't help it."

"Get up," Bucky growled again, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it, the darkness in his eyes swirling like a storm. He grabbed her by the wrists, hauling her to her feet. She stumbled, her legs weak from the intense orgasm that had just ripped through her body. He didn't let her go, pulling her closer until their chests were touching. His heart hammered against hers, a wild, untamed beat that matched the ragged breaths she took.

He sat down in one of the plush chairs by the fireplace, his metal leg creaking slightly as he leaned back. The fire cast flickering shadows across his face, making him look even more intimidating. "Kneel," he ordered, his voice a low rumble.

Y/N's eyes widened, the command sending a fresh wave of excitement through her. She had never seen Bucky like this, so commanding and powerful. With trembling legs, she obeyed, dropping to her knees before him. The heat from the fire kissed her skin, a stark contrast to the coolness of the floorboards beneath her knees.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a thrill through her body. His hand reached out, tangling in her hair and pulling her closer. She could feel his hardness pressing against his pants, the heat of his desire scorching her through the fabric. Her own need for him grew with every second that ticked by, her heart racing with anticipation.

"Suck," he demanded, his voice a dark, velvet whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't need to be told twice; she was eager to taste him, to feel him in her mouth. She unbuckled his belt with trembling hands, the sound of the metal echoing through the silent room. His zipper followed, the fabric parting to reveal the monster that lay beneath.

Her eyes widened at the sight of his cock, thick and hard, jutting out from his body like a weapon. The head was red and glistening with precum, begging for her attention. Y/N leaned in, her heart racing as she wrapped her lips around him, her tongue sliding along the velvety skin. Bucky's grip on her hair tightened, guiding her movements as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, the sound low and needy. "Take it all."

Y/N's eyes watered as she took him deeper into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with each bob of her head. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of salt and musk that made her stomach clench with desire. She could feel his pulse against her tongue, the veins on his cock standing out, a testament to his arousal. His hips rocked upward, the movement pushing her down even further until she was choking slightly on his length. But she didn't pull away; she was eager to please, to give him the release he so clearly craved.

Bucky's eyes never left hers, his gaze intense and focused. He watched her, the way she struggled to take all of him, the way she gagged slightly when he hit the back of her throat. His hand tightened in her hair, the grip almost painful as he held her in place.

The sound of her gagging only made him harder, the beast within him reveling in the power he held over her. He started to fuck her mouth, his hips moving in a rough rhythm that she tried to match. Her eyes watered and her throat burned, but she didn't care. All she could feel was the desperate need to please him, to be everything he wanted in that moment.

"That's a good fucking girl," he murmured, the words a dark praise that sent a shiver down her spine. His voice was a mix of Bucky and the Winter Soldier, the two sides of him blending together in a symphony of lust and power. "You're being so good for me right now."

Y/N's eyes watered as she took him deeper, her throat working around his cock. She could feel the veins pulsing, the heat of his desire radiating through her. Her own arousal was a living thing, coiling in her stomach and making her pussythrob with every stroke. The sound of her choking was the sweetest music to his ears, a reminder of the control he had over her in that moment.

he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You're doing so well." His eyes searched hers, the darkness swirling in their depths. "You're mine, and you're going to take everything I give you."

The words were like a command, one that she couldn't resist. She took a deep breath and pushed herself down, her throat tightening around his cock until she felt him hit the back of her throat. He groaned, the sound low and primal, and she knew he was close. His hips bucked upwards, his hand in her hair urging her faster. And then, with a final, desperate groan, he came, his cum spurting into her mouth, filling her throat. She swallowed, the taste of him hot and salty on her tongue.

For a moment, he remained still, his hand tangled in her hair as he panted heavily, his body shuddering with the aftershocks of his release. Y/N's throat was raw, but she didn't pull away. She waited, her eyes locked on his, her mouth full of his seed, until he finally released her.

Bucky leaned back in the chair, his eyes never leaving hers as she swallowed, her throat muscles working overtime. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. The hand that had been gripping her hair so tightly now moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that had formed. The gentleness of the gesture was a stark contrast to the ferocity of their encounter, a reminder of the man beneath the soldier.

"Come here," he rasped, his voice still thick with desire. Y/N nodded, eagerly moving to straddle his lap. The warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold metal of his leg, the heat of his arousal pressing against her sensitive folds. She could feel the stickiness between her legs, the evidence of her climax a testament to the power of his touch.

As she settled over him, Bucky's mouth found hers again, his tongue delving deep to taste the remnants of their shared pleasure. The kiss was raw, unfiltered, a claiming that left her breathless and trembling. He kissed her as if he were trying to devour her whole, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she rocked against him, desperate for more. The taste of her sex mingled with the salt on his skin, a heady blend that made her core clench with need.

Then, without breaking the kiss, Bucky reached down, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against her sensitive flesh. Y/N gasped into his mouth as he began to enter her, inch by torturous inch. The stretch was exquisite, the fullness of him filling her up in a way that was both painful and perfect.

As he seated himself fully inside her, she threw her head back, a long, keening moan escaping her lips. His arms tightened around her waist, lifting her slightly before slamming her back down onto his cock, making her scream. The force of his movements was unlike anything she had ever felt, his strength overwhelming. She could feel herself tearing around him, her body struggling to accommodate his size, but the pain only added to the pleasure.

He started to pound up into her, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm that had her body singing with sensation. Each thrust hit her deep, the metal of his arm digging into her flesh as he held her in place. Y/N's nails scratched at his shoulders, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she tried to muffle the sounds of her pleasure. The room was filled with the sounds of their flesh slapping together, the wetness of her arousal mingling with the harshness of their breaths.

God, it was perfect. The way he claimed her, the way she felt so alive and so utterly consumed by him. Every rough stroke was a declaration of his need, his desire to mark her, to make her his in every way possible. The pain was a sweet symphony that played in harmony with the pleasure, each note sharper and more intense than the last. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt another orgasm building, her body trembling and shaking with the force of it.

Bucky's thrusts grew rougher and harder, his cock pummeling into her with a ferocity that left her breathless. Y/N's juices trailed down her thighs, slicking his legs as he pushed deeper, his metal hand digging into her skin, leaving bruises that would linger for days. The sound of their flesh colliding filled the cabin, a primal music that seemed to resonate with the very air around them.

With a final, powerful surge, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, his cock pulsing as he released a torrent of hot cum deep within her. Y/N's eyes widened with the intensity of the feeling, her walls clenching around him as she squirted, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. Her orgasm ripped through her, making her body convulse in his arms as he continued to fuck her through it, his hips moving with the rhythm of her spasms.

"Fuck, bucky," she screamed out, the word a declaration of pleasure and a cry for more. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red streaks that stood out starkly against his skin.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes glazed with passion. The hand that had been wrapped around the base of his cock stilled, the intensity of her gaze piercing through the haze of lust that had clouded his vision. It was in that moment that she saw the change in his eyes, the dark void that had swallowed them up just moments ago receding, leaving only the deep, gentle blue she had come to love.

"Oh, fuck, baby, what did I do?" The words tore from his throat, raw and desperate, as if he had just woken from a terrible nightmare. Bucky's eyes searched hers, filled with a mix of horror and relief. The hand that had been buried in her hair now cradled her face, his thumb brushing away the tears that had spilled down her cheeks.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes dropping to her neck. The sight of the bruises sent a bolt of panic through him. They were dark and angry. His gaze traveled lower, taking in the marks on her thighs and the handprint on her ass. His heart raced, a cold sweat breaking out over his body. He had lost control. The beast within had taken over, and he had hurt her.

"I'm fine, baby," she murmured, her voice small and shaky. But she didn't look away from him, her eyes fiercely determined. "It's what I wanted."

[lightlycareless]

seeing your fic about naoya having a child and naming her after reader had me thinking; what if he had a daughter by y/n but then she died or the zen’in clan got rid of her and had him marry another woman to produce a son, but naoya raised naomi to be his sole heir and successor, even if he has children with the other woman?

Heya anon!!

WOW. This ask is sure angsty, or maybe I made it angsty with what I’ve written. But you were 100% right, Naoya wouldn’t really care for kids he might or may not have with other people. I mean, if he could, he would NOT but we’ll go into more detail at the end :)

For now, I’ll just let you enjoy what I’ve written hehe.

Warnings: angst. You’re dead. Naoya’s new wife is a bitch. Naomi is hurt :( I’m sorry, I’ll just get this over with, she was slapped. That bitch gets what she deserves anyways so…

Happy reading!

She doesn’t know you, but she already hates you.

The hindrance you represent, how you voided her one-way ticket to a new, fulfilling life—and all because of her husband’s unwillingness to move on from his dead ex-wife.

It rightfully infuriated her, mostly because she had been nothing but perfect when it came to complying with the Zen’in’s overwhelming demands.

If they wanted her to keep quiet, she’d never speak a word. If they wanted her to be obedient, she’d go beyond their expectations, there would be none more loyal than her.

And yet—her performance went undetected to her husband and his obsession with your presence.

From those stupid portraits of you scattered across the estate, to his chambers still filled with your garments…!

In a fit of anger, Kaede tried to get rid of them once and for all, grab them and toss them out the door for whoever found some use in them, if a dead woman’s clothes could still have some—but the moment Naoya caught wind of her intentions, he made sure she’d regret ever thinking of such stupid idea.

“Get your disgusting hands out of my wife’s clothes!” He growled, swiftly taking hold of her wrist and throwing her to the side, careless if she got hurt in the process. “Out— get it out my room, now!”

There’s no doubt in Kaede’s mind that if she weren’t protected by that flimsy marriage certificate, she would’ve met her end right there and then.

It wasn’t fair; it really wasn’t. That after all she’s given up to make him happy, Naoya is still hellbent on considering you as his one and only wife, the sole recipient of his affections, and assets.

But that wasn’t to be the worst of all.

In fact, the bane of her existence wasn’t the constant rejection of her so called husband, but rather, how she had given him a child by that point, a son, that was ought to effectively ensure her position in this family considering their gender—

And yet, Naoya has done nothing but reject his existence. Failing to claim him as his legitimate heir, or even name him…

In favor of that daughter, her mere existence stripping her of such right.

Once again, Kaede is reminded that she cannot compete with you.

You must’ve done some kind of witchcraft to have such a suffocating grip on Naoya, because the way he behaved even after years of your death wasn’t right.

It wasn’t natural.

She had to do something, and it had to be quick. Because his growing resentment only signified her eventual discardment, and Kaede had gone through so much to lose it all against a dead contender.

commodities.

But what could possibly be the answer to all her ailments?

Another son?

Or perhaps… a reminder of the prosperity she provides?

Through the scolding of an errant child, Naomi plays out that role when unwittingly crossing her path and bumping into her, accidentally spilling a bright colored drink on the expensive kimono her in-laws had gifted her at the announcement of her pregnancy.

Such tragedy, what an awful transgression, expected of a resentful child against her stepmother...

What a perfect stage.

“I’m—I’m sorry!” Naomi cried, tugging and pulling against the cruel woman’s hold on her hair as she’s guided away, somewhere, she didn’t know where— to be punished. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

But no matter how much she pleaded, she had played right into her hands and there was no way in hell she’d let this opportunity go.

“Oh, you didn’t? Think I haven’t noticed how unfairly rude you’ve been to me since I married your father?!” Kaede lies, for Naomi has been nothing but courteous to her, though most of the time she prefers to keep to herself, distant, because she’s not precisely someone many would consider approachable.

And because her father asked her to as well.

“I’ve done nothing but be compassionate towards you, understanding of your pain now that your poor bitch of a mother isn’t around anymore.” She continues to berate. “And you? You’ve rejected me and my son from the very beginning! I ought to teach you a few things about respec—”

“My—my mama wasn’t a bi—bitch!” Naomi cries back, and her words, as if her resistance wasn’t infuriating enough, made something inside her snap.

It’s like you’ve—like you’ve brainwashed this whole family into holding you to such a high standard! Appraising you like some kind of goddess whose honor was much greater than their very existence!

Because here she was, casting lies against her character, but all that Naomi cared for was clearing your pristine image—the saint you were for these two… two stubborn fools!

But she’s had enough. Of these theatrics, of this blind loyalty…

And for once, she ought to use her title of mother, her father’s wife, to put a stop to this.

Even if she has to sacrifice Naomi for it.

“Shut up! For once, shut up!�� Kaede yells, quickly raising her hand and striking your poor daughter across the face, sending her tumbling down to the wooden floor with a loud thud, soon followed by loud wails and calls for help, anyone to come rescue her from her stepmother’s madness—

But she had made sure to take her where no one would be able to intervene, no witnesses to account for. And those that lingered were simply too scared to do anything, selfishly putting their livelihoods above this young child’s innocence.

No one would end up caring for Naomi, no one… except, that is, the only person who would know when their child is in danger—a heartbroken, protective father that had long sworn to take care of his family and all that remained of his love’s legacy.

Rounding up your staff and making haste to her direction the moment he heard his supposed wife’s erratic cries.

Eyes wide and red at the infuriating sight of that disgusting woman looming over his precious child, making haste to grab her hand with such strength is bound to mark her for the following days.

“Na—Naoya!” Kaede gasps, startled as she attempts to fight him off, but she’s immediately forced to surrender when his hand flies up to her neck, choking her on the spot, barely giving her any time to explain herself, not that he cared to listen, and putting an end to her foolishness.

Permanently.

The last thing Naomi sees before your staff picks her up is the anger irradiating from his face, the vengeance burning in his eyes—a sentiment so distant from the loving father he’s always been with her, the man you’ve greatly spoken of… it almost seemed like a nightmare.

Like all that transpired was simply a figment of her imagination, a matter of sleeping it off and the following day would come along, fixing it all, as if nothing ever happened.

As if that were to clear the anguish settling in her heart.

But little Naomi couldn’t rest, not when her cheek and eyes still burned, her small heart loudly pounding against her chest as she tried to process the abuse her so-called stepmother had inflicted on her—no one, ever dared lay a hand on her. Less someone so close to her.

Not even the unwavering company of your loyal staff and their attempt of comfort through the sound of reassuring, kind words were able to quiet down the turmoil going through her mind. If anything, it only fueled it, a vivid reminder that all that transpired had been real, beyond a horrible dream.

A situation that wouldn’t have a proper conclusion once her father returned to her chambers, dismissing the ladies and taking a seat by her side, wrapping his arms around her and tightly holding her against his chest, to profess the words that further stirred her confusion.

“Papa, what—what happened? Where is she—” breathed, Naoya quiets her with a soft shh, kissing the top of her head. Naomi feels something warm soak her forehead.

“She’ll never bother us again. I’ve made sure of it.” She knows what it is now, feels it more—her father was crying.

“What… what did you do?”

“What I had to do to protect you” Is all that he says, no further explanation for when she’s never seen again around the estate, nor her so-called brother. “No one will harm you ever again, I promise.”

Rumors didn’t take long to spread like wildfire, nor whispers to infest the hallways, the staff’s and members of the clan’s futile attempt to uncover what truly happened that awful autumn evening, because it so happens, no one was around to see it.

They all knew of Kaede’s awful behavior towards Naomi, but her fate… was simply unwritten in the Zen’in’s history. Her legacy… gone.

Not that they would eventually know, since Naoya moved out of the estate with his daughter soon after that.

He was never remarried.

Ok so, let’s go through some things that I’m not sure they were properly detailed here, or things I want to detail lol:

That kid he had with his so-called new wife, unwanted. No consent was given. We can go with either he was drugged, sa’d to conceive that child, or she did the same thing but with someone else and just acted like it was Naoya’s. Maybe did it willingly to get back at him or something, but the bottom line is that kid couldn’t be any more irrelevant to Naoya.

Secondly, I think the ending could be interpreted two ways? 1. He either left the estate but is still part of the clan so he’s just waiting to become head of the family to come back and make things right for his daughter, or 2. He left the clan. He no longer associates with the Zen’in. I, personally, go with the first one. But if motivated enough, I think he might cut ties with them. You’re open to choose whatever you want :)

Well, get a few more dead y/n asks to write down… surprisingly. I wonder what that means lol 😂 anyways, it’s always a treat to write angst stuff!!! Keep it coming hehe. And thank you so much for sending in this!

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!

[hoonieyun]

collecting tears - sunghoon

jar of tears that were shed for sunghoon

park sunghoon x reader "y/n"

genre: angst, right boy wrong time, failed relationship, rejection, ex-boyfriend

warning: profanity, depression, anxiety and insecurity, alcohol, overall 18+ - italics are flashback

summary: sunghoon loved you. he did, but the voices in your head kept telling you that you weren't good enough for him. after a public display of affection, the weight of the gaze of your loved ones, and the voices in your head, you're now forced to replay the moments of leaving sunghoon alone; on one knee and a velvet box in his hands.

I know I said I’d wish you well But I did not mean with someone else I don't wanna ask too much But don't fall in love without me Been through hell Waiting if the time could tell I don't wanna press my luck But don't fall in love without me pia mia - wish you well word count: 1843

“Y/N?” a voice calls out to you and you're pulled out of your thoughts. It was Yeji, Sunghoon’s little sister. She had grown so much since the last time you saw her and she was only getting more beautiful. You gave her a warm hug and asked her how she’s been. The two of you catching up in the ladies bathroom of the reception venue. You haven't seen Sunghoon’s sister in a long time and to be frank, you hadn’t seen Sunghoon for a while either. 

You were in the bathroom trying to recollect yourself after seeing Sunghoon and his now wife take the stage for their first dance as a married couple. You thought that you had long gotten over Sunghoon and that you would be able to attend his wedding with only love and support for him but as soon as you stepped out of your car and onto the cobblestone pathway that led to the ceremony, you were only filled with regret. 

Regretful that you weren’t the one walking down the aisle and staring lovingly into Sunghoon’s eyes. Regretful that you weren’t the one Sunghoon was slipping a beautioful diamond ring onto and softly reading his vows to. Regretful that you weren’t the one on the receiving end of his kiss as the officiant announces the marriage. Regretful that you weren’t the one dancing with him as loved ones admired. Regretful that you walked away from him. 

Sunghoon had planned a whole day for the two of you. He had been planning for the last three months, consulting with your best friends and sisters to come up with the best plan to propose to you. He even got the blessing of your parents, taking the two of them to dinner with just him and although your dad was hesitant to let his little girl go, he willingly gave Sunghoon his blessing to wed you. 

Everything was planned out and all Sunghoon had to do now was ask you the question. But not before the two of you finish all of his events planned for the day. Sunghoon watched as you put your earrings on and sprayed your perfume as your last step of getting ready. He admired your beauty and couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you, as husband and wife. 

He spins you around in a whim of the moment, landing on his chest as you look up at him with wide eyes, a toothy smile on Sunghoon’s face. “Yes?” you ask and Sunghoon just continues to smile at you, excitement boiling inside of him as he runs over the events for the day once more. “Nothing, just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.” Sunghoon says before placing a tender kiss onto your forehead. “Come on, our reservation is soon.” he says, grabbing your hand and gently walking outside to his car. 

You mull over on his words. Luck. Was that all this was? Was he just lucky to have stumbled upon you and now he just happened to think he had to be with you? Lucky that he found you but… did he want to find you? Your doubts were now starting to seep into your mind and the insecurity you fought so hard against was starting to win. You didn’t realize you were dwelling on these negative thoughts for so long because you had arrived at the first spot Sunghoon had planned and hadn’t even noticed until he was opening your door for you. Trying your best to brush away your insecurities, you put on a smile and took Sunghoon’s hand in yours as you approached the beautiful restaurant. 

A fancy steakhouse that prepared a variety of different meats and dishes prepared tableside. He spent all dinner making sure you were having fun and although you would say yes, your mind was starting to unravel. Like you were starting to fall apart the longer you were out with Sunghoon. You couldn’t get those thoughts out of your head no matter how many times Sunghoon would tell you that you were beautiful and that he loved you and that you were the one for him. 

The next step on his plan after dinner was to go on a walk by the river. The river wasn’t too far from the restaurant and Sunghoon planned it that way, so you two could walk hand in hand to the next location on his plan. 

He slightly swung your arms as your hand was in his, enjoying the cool breeze of Spring. There were groups of kids running around with kites, parents lounging on the grass as they watched their children, and several dogs running around. Sunghoon couldn’t wait for the day he could be one of those families, a family with you where he can admire the life he has because it was a life with you. The velvet box in his back pocket burning a hole into the fabric the longer the walk went on. 

The walk was short and soon enough you’re approaching a clearing near the river, the sun was beginning to set and the flickering lights from candles were coming into your line of sight. Various candles, rose petals, and photos of you and Sunghoon adorned a small lookout that stood just above the river; giving whoever stood there the perfect view of the sunset and river altogether. 

You were looking out into the view, wonderinf what all of this was for when suddenly, Sunghoon was on one knee and some of your loved ones had appeared behind him. All of them with smiles on their faces and phones pointed towards the both of you. 

“Y/N. You’re the best thing to happen to me. There have been a lot of times where I questioned what I was doing with my life. Whether I should continue ice skating, whether I want to become an architect, what I should have for breakfast. But in every instance, you were there to reassure me that you would be there with me through everything. Never have I ever questioned my love for you and I hope you know that you were the reason I think love exists. 

I’ve never felt this way for anyone before and I’m glad I learned to love through you because I don’t want to experience love with anyone else. 

You’re the most beautiful girl I know and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. 

Y/N… will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?” Sunghoon says, pulling out the velvet box and popping it open, a beautiful diamond ring glistens in the sunset and a smile on Sunghoon’s face paired with his glossy eyes make your chest rise and fall even faster. 

You glance around to your loved ones, your dad smiling at you as he consoles your mom while she cries, your sisters crying and smiling as they record the loving moment, and your best friends trying their best to keep it together. 

When you look back down at Sunghoon you soon realize that you hadn’t answered his question because the smile on his face has started falling into a confused frown. You blink a few times while looking into Sunghoon’s eyes and you don’t even realize you were crying until a tear falls down your cheek. 

“I- I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” you say, shaking your head and running away from Sunghoon. Stunned and shocked as he blinks away the tears welling in his eyes, too embarrassed to even stand up and face your loved ones. 

The silence in that moment was so loud and Sunghoon could’ve sworn that amidst the silence, he could hear his own heart shatter inside of him. 

“Are you okay?” Yeji asks as she watches a tear slide down the side of your cheek. You quickly wipe it away having not realized you were crying as you recalled the traumatic events of Sunghoon’s failed proposal. You reassure Yeji that you’re fine and that you’ll see her outside. She soon leaves you alone, noticing that you probably needed some time alone. 

After a few minutes of composing yourself, you touch up your makeup and head back outside to the venue. The reception was just as lively, if not more, than when you had excused yourself to the bathroom. You were scanning the dancefloor, trying to find your old friends to hang out with when a voice from behind you gets your attention. 

“Having fun?” Sunghoon asks and you’re startled by his presnce. If you were being honest you had been ignoring him all night and would hope that you could go the whole night without having to interact with him. 

“Y- yeah. Beautiful wedding, congratulations to the both of you!” you say, trying your best to sound genuine. Sunghoon smiles at you, a type of smile you hadn’t seen in a long time. You really wished that you were the one being celebrated alongside Sunghoon but your insecurities and anxiety prevented you from receiving all the love that Sunghoon was ready to give you. 

“Sometimes I wish things were different…” Sunghoon says quietly and you have to close your eyes to prevent yourself from acting in a way that would only hurt the both of you, you especially. 

“Sunghoon, don’t… We’re literally at your wedding.” you say, eyeing the room but due to the dark atmosphere from the lowlights and strobe party lights, no one could actually see the two of you right now. “Yeah but I wish it was-” Sunghoon begins to say but you cut him off by walking away but he grabs your hand in his. A small gesture but to the both of you it was more than that. 

“You’re literally married, Hoon…” you say, the nickname mindlessly rolling off your tongue. “This isn’t right and you know that.” you say and Sunghoon sighs in defeat, staring down at his feet. Although he was now married and had a new woman in his life, you were the one who held his heart. 

You walked away from Sunghoon that night just like you did the day he proposed to you. Wishing that although he was now married and how much you wanted to believe that you truly wished him well, you wished that he just wasn’t with someone else. 

That he’d fall in love but secretly wishing he would fall in love with you once again and even though he tried to prove to you that he still does love you and that he was willing to drop everything at his own wedding reception to have you back, you chose to walk away once again. 

Sunghoon watched you walk away a second time. “Take me back to the night we met…” he says, hoping that his empty words would somehow miraculously grant him his wish so that he could start all over and show you the love you deserve and reassure you so that you wouldn’t walk away from him. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

the credit for the lyrics used in this piece of writing go to their rightful owners

[typicalopposite]

WIP Wednesday

thank you thank you @bidisasterevankinard for the tag! 🫶🫶🫶

take me back - Tommy amnesia fic - from ch 3

Evan: Hey! Hope you have a great first day back! Be safe! 🙂

Tommy’s heart skips a beat… he said– he said their thing… Be safe / Of course. Like Bobby and Athena’s Home Safe, or Howie and Maddie’s Miss you already / Miss you most or Han and Leias I love you / I know. It floods his brain with memories of what feels like just last week; him telling Evan the same thing when he called to let Tommy know they were going on a pretty serious call. It stabs him in the chest, and tears sting at his eyes that he quickly blinks away because, no… Evan is allowing him a friendship when he doesn’t deserve one. He will not screw it up this early in because he has a giant sack of unresolved emotional baggage that he filled himself. He replies: I will be he hits send, reels at the sting of making it different, then he sends and thank you :) to balance it out.

The messages are instantly read, and Tommy waits for a moment to see if he’ll say anything else. He doesn’t, so Tommy grabs his keys and heads out the door to his truck. The engine roars to life and he turns his music up loud enough to make his ears hurt— from the volume and the fact every song reminds him of Evan— as he drives the miles to Harbor Station. 

He is actually pretty surprised at the effort his team put into their welcome back, complete with a banner and cake. (If Tommy is being honest he is just about cake’d out from his birthday… but he appreciates the gesture… Especially if— unless they changed a lot in the span of last year to now— this isn’t usual for the 217. This is more of the 118’s style of celebration. He’ll take it.) “Thanks everybody,” he says humbly. 

“Good to have you back,” his captain says, shakes his hand then excuses himself to his office. 

He is approached one by one by his other coworkers ending with Lucy. She grins widely at him, and throws her arms around his neck; a gesture he was used to from her… but things are supposedly different between them now, so it’s an unexpected surprise.  

“How’re you feeling?” she asks. Her– usually sharp, ready to give as much sass and shit as she receives among a crew of mostly men– eyes are soft and sincere. 

“Better… I– I guess,” Tommy replies. “Doc said as long as I don’t crack it open again, staples can come out next week.”

“You still don’t know how that happened?” 

Tommy pulls his lips down into a frown and shakes his head. “That garage is a mess… Evan is always– or… was always–” he stops and sighs, running a hand over the back of his neck, wondering if one day talking about Evan will stop hurting. He doubts it’ll be anytime soon. “He always said I needed to organize my stuff better– guess I should have listened.” 

She gives him a sympathetic smile, hooking an arm around his arm and leading him through the hangar. “Well at least you have plenty of paperwork to keep your mind off of… everything, until you’re cleared to get back in the sky!” 

“Oh, great…” He groans at the piles of unorganized files left for him to keep busy while he is on temporary light duty, and drops into his chair to get started. 

Or rather try to get started… except everything reminds him of Evan– of the accident– of what he lost— of how miserable he is. 

Calls where their stations worked together. Calls with people named Evan, or Tommy, or even worse Dylan. Calls involving head injuries, and memory loss, and extreme depression, and anxiety– a call involving a person giving a statement so filled with regret and despair Tommy has to stop what he’s doing and walk outside for some air. 

“You okay?” Lucy asks, sticking her head out of the helicopter she is running a safety check on. 

“Fine…” Tommy lies, still unable to suck in a deep enough breath that it will stop feeling like he’s being suffocated. 

Lucy sighs and turns the helicopter off. She hops down and walks over to him, face determined. “Seriously, Kinard… I’m not saying you have to be an open book; hell you never were, even before— But don’t start shutting everyone out again. We’re a team and if you’re going through it and your mind is not clear it’s not safe– you could get hurt… again. So we’re not going back there, okay?” Tommy slowly lifts his eyes to hers and nods. 

Lucy calls out for Melvin to finish the inspection and she tips her head towards the side of the hangar. They walk down alongside the metal wall towards the water’s edge. She picks up a rock and flicks it out onto the water; it skips three times before dipping under the surface. She glances over at Tommy, giving him the floor to start the conversation. Tommy doesn’t speak and instead repeats her action– picks up a rock and skips it across the lake. Seven skips before it disappears and Lucy scoffs, calling him a show off. 

“I don’t know why I broke up with him…” is Tommy’s reply. 

Lucy stares at him for a second, like she’s trying to formulate a response. “I– I mean… I’m sure once the amnesia–”

“It’s not because of the amnesia, Luce…” Tommy interjects. “I–” He exhales, long and deep. “I don’t know why I broke up with him because I don’t want to break up with him.” She furrows her brows and he continues before she can speak. “Lucy I woke up thinking it was our anniversary. Just a few days before I dumped him, for– for the stupidest reason!”

“Wait, you know the reason?”

“Ye– Yeah. Evan told me.”

“You spoke to Evan?!”

Tommy sighs. “That’s not the point. The point is that I don’t— or— or I didn’t… I still don’t want to not be with him. I– I was ready Lucy. Ready for the next step– granted the next step was telling him I loved him… whereas his was moving me into his loft–”

“Wait…” Lucy pushes forward from where she had been leaning against a tree and starts to pace. “He asked you to move in– into the loft?”

“He did.”

“But you have a house…”

“Yes but– dammit Lucy this is still not the point! I love him! I- I would have said yes. I s- should have said yes! I don’t–” His voice breaks, he covers his face. Then Lucy’s arms are around him, tugging him down to her level, allowing him to hide his face in her shoulder instead. 

No Pressure 🏷️ (even though I know it’s late 🫣) : @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @judymarch15

@onthewaytosomewhere @lavenderleahy @bangpop91 @hyperfocusthusly @weewookinard

@beanarie @leashybebes @somethingaboutfirefly @silversky9 @bucksxkinard

@sweaters-and-silly @quintessenceofdust88 @sierrarreads @saibowtie @kinardsevan

@unhingedangstaddict @portinastorm @ladyeyrewrites @rubydaiquiri

@mmso-notlikethat @a-mel0n @rdng1230 @fenrirscarsback

(I am so sorry if I missed someone! Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[mc-lukanette]

"Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody. You've been the song stuck in my head since the day we first met."

Luka meant every word of it. He hadn't known Marinette for long but he knew people. Whether one called it intuition, a sixth sense, or nothing more than a "feeling," he didn't care. Marinette was a special girl and anyone who didn't know didn't understand her. It was the way she talked, the way she laughed, and even the way she was constantly stumbling over herself because she cared so much about others.

He felt it in her designs and had seen the process himself, how she would sit in the same spot for hours until someone snapped her out of it. He wore his Kitty Section costume proudly because of it and swore that it made him play better, just by having a piece of her with him.

That was all he needed, as far as he was concerned. Whether she loved him or not was irrelevant, and he only confessed at all in the first place because he wanted to alleviate whatever doubts she'd had. He was just happy to know her and to be called her friend.

She looked so beautiful against the colorful stage lights too. Had he not needed to leave, he might've told her so. He only hoped she wouldn't run off to let them take all the credit if there were any interviews afterward. She was just as big a part of the band as he was.

He smiled and released her shoulder, turning around to face the stage where he was set to play with the others. He took one step, two steps—

and then his wrist was snagged, pulling him back. He tried to keep his balance, especially as another hand grabbed at his jacket to bring him downwards. Everything was happening too fast, his vision only able to register the blur that was Marinette's face coming towards him.

Heat flooded his system as her lips came into contact with his skin, just to the side of his mouth. She'd kissed him on the cheek before, but that had come off entirely friendly as opposed to the one she'd given him now.

"Worse" still was that he knew she'd missed her intended target in her rush, which was definitely not his cheek.

It was over too soon, but he registered the voices behind him calling him to the stage as Marinette let him go and pulled away. Despite the bold move, she looked away sheepishly and cleared her throat, her blush obvious even in the lighting.

"U-um... good luck?" she said, giving him a fluttery wave.

His shoes felt like they were filled with very selective lead, keeping him firmly in place unless he was moving towards her specifically. Alas, his bandmates were still calling and not going would've ruined all the effort Marinette had put into getting them to this point.

Thus, he turned - for real this time - and went to set up with the others.

—————

Luka somehow managed to concentrate throughout the entire performance. The nice thing about his Kitty Section mask was that he could look around freely without being noticed, particularly at the siren of a girl standing in the background watching his every move. Her fingers were steepled in front of her mouth, making it hard to gauge her exact expression, but her eyes never left his.

Each note he played felt like a pleasant shock through his body, a positive feedback loop that kept going throughout the whole song. It'd happened before when he was in a good mood, playing his feelings through the strings, but not like this.

Not after being kissed by the one he was in love with, and not on a stage where the energy surrounding him was so high. Whenever he turned to the other bandmates, they were staring at him in bewilderment, but not in any bad way. He wasn't overshadowing them or throwing off the song, he was just more of what was already there, and the stage crew was getting into it.

It was fantastic.

By the time everything was over and the recording was done, there was nothing stopping him anymore. He wordlessly passed his guitar to a confused Rose, then walked off the stage, past the crew, and past a reporter who had snuck in and was asking him questions he didn't bother listening to. He pushed his mask up and took a straight path directly towards Marinette, who was bouncing from the thrill of the moment.

"That was incredible, Luka!" she squealed. "It sounded even better than in the video! People are going to love it, I—"

He grabbed her face and kissed her. It momentarily occurred to him that he could've said something romantic like, "I only played so well because you were there," which was true, but kissing her the way she'd tried to kiss him seemed like a far more appropriate response to what she'd done.

It felt equivalent to getting to play a song she'd written just for him, which was almost a shame. Had he known she could've made noises like she was just by him kissing her, he would've suggested a different type of song for the music video.

There was a shriek in the background that was probably Rose, which he paid no mind to. He broke the kiss, but remained hunched over to Marinette's level, still holding her blushing face and cherishing the warmth against his palms.

"Did you love it?" he asked quietly, stroking her cheeks. "That's all I care about."

Her voice had raised an octave when she replied, "O-of course? I said it was incredible! I love you—it! A lot!"

She managed to fit her hands between his, covering her face with an embarrassed whine. He sighed blissfully, dropping his hands to wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her shoulder.

"I can't believe you tried to kiss me," he began, then added even though he could've left it at that, "right before I had to go on stage."

"Sorry," came the muffled apology behind her hands, though he smirked when he caught the hint of not actually being sorry in her voice. She returned his embrace, squeezing and shaking a little as she whispered, "I should've done it sooner."

When Luka had thought just a few minutes ago that he would've been perfectly happy just getting to know Marinette and be her friend, he meant it, but he wasn't about to complain about being thrice as perfectly happy either.

[ladytanithia]

WIP whenever tf

I've had practically nothing in progress writing-wise in ages. Lost my mojo. But I'm trying to get back into a groove. Not happy with how I've done BLP so far, so I'm rewriting it, from the beginning, and incorporating Miranja's journal into it.

However, this scene from Out of the Ashes came up in a conversation the other day, and OotA technically still counts as a WIP, since it's not finished (dammit - NONE of the parts of Miranja's story is truly finished!). So I figured what the hell. It's been a long time since I had any writing to share, and this is one of the best scenes to really show how Miranja's mind works. Not even any sex here. <gasp!>

Tagging friends whose writing I've been enjoying whilst not producing anything myself. @dirty-bosmer @lillxart @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter @theoneandonlysemla I hope you enjoy it.

It was just about eight o’clock in the evening when they arrived back in Solitude. Before doing anything else, Miranja went directly to Castle Dour.

Tullius was sitting on the bench in the corner by the enchanting table in the foyer. Miranja had gone straight to the war room looking for him, hadn’t found him, had checked his bedroom, still hadn’t found him, and had backtracked to the front door before he finally spoke to her and drew her attention.

“Looking for me, Auxiliary?”

Surprised, Miranja turned toward the sound of his voice and approached him.

“Yes, sir. Here’s the Jagged Crown. Legate Rikke sent me to deliver it to you.” She handed over the Crown, and Tullius took it and turned it in his hands, examining it with interest as he replied.

“Excellent work, soldier. I have to admit, I had my doubts it even existed. Did you run into any trouble?”

Tears filled Miranja’s eyes, but she kept a stiff upper lip. Teldryn’s hand in the middle of her back certainly helped give her fortitude.

“We lost a lot of good men. I hope it was worth it.” Tullius didn’t need to know that she was also talking about the Stormcloaks who died.

“That’s not for you to decide, soldier. I wouldn’t have sent you in the first place if it wasn’t going to be worth it.”

Miranja’s pride stung at those words, while at the same time, her sense of justice was offended. She was the gods-damned Dragonborn, as well as a Thane in this hold, and she had become largely unaccustomed to people talking down to her. And in her opinion, this stupid war wasn’t worth the loss of ANY people, if you got right down to brass tacks. No one should be dying over what she felt was a deeply personal religious issue. It was tantamount in her mind to killing people for what they did in their own bedrooms.

“You seem to forget who you’re speaking to, General. May I be candid with you, sir?”

“By all means, Auxiliary. Let’s hear it.” There was a challenge in his voice and in the way he jutted out his chin.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t like you very much.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Tullius replied indifferently. He rose and brushed past her to carry the crown into the war room. “I’m not here to win popularity contests. I’m here to keep the Dominion out of Skyrim, and to quell this dissention.”

Miranja followed him, and Teldryn tagged along quietly behind her. “The Dominion is already in Skyrim, whether you want to admit it or not. I pass Thalmor on the road every day taking Stormcloak prisoners to gods-know-where to do gods-know-what to them. The only reason I don’t kill them is that I don’t want a bounty on my own head.”

“Wise choice,” Tullius acknowledged briefly, but added, “Think what you want, Auxiliary. It could be much worse.”

“I’m sure it could. I just want you to know that I think you’re a cold, insensitive…” She hesitated for a moment, searching for a milder word than ‘asshole.’ “…jerk. I wonder if you have a compassionate bone in your body, and if you really care about the people of Skyrim at all.”

Tullius’ face darkened with anger. “Listen up, Auxiliary. I’m here to do a job. Not that it’s any of your damned business, but I have family back in Cyrodiil who I love and miss terribly. I’ve been in Skyrim longer than I ever wanted to be. I’m doing what I’m paid to do, what I believe is for the greater good in the long run. I hope that’s also what you’re doing, why you joined the Legion in the first place.”

“Of course it is,” Miranja glowered back. “But I’d like to think I’m going about it in a more personal, compassionate way. I’m not sitting in a fancy castle ordering everyone else around. I’m on the ground, learning about the people and helping them in more ways than just killing Stormcloaks and getting Imperial soldiers killed.”

“Well, good for you,” Tullius replied with overt sarcasm. “Imperial Generals don’t have that luxury. I didn’t get to my station in life by being compassionate.”

“That may be so, General, but it’s obvious you’re not particularly happy. And there’s no reason to take it out on others. You chose your path.”

“And you chose yours when you joined the Legion, Auxiliary. You can either follow orders or take up residence in the Solitude prison. Which will it be?”

She was sick of being addressed as a title. “My name is Miranja. Miranja Laurentius. And I will follow orders, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Miranja. We all have to do things we don’t like to bring about things we do like.” He stopped and regarded her with a scrutinizing look, as Miranja stared back with some surprise at his unknowing echoing of her father’s words.

“You said your name was Laurentius?”

“Yes.” She didn’t bother with the ‘sir.’

“Your father was in the Legion, wasn’t he?”

“Yes… sir.” Where was he going with this?

“Ah, yes, I see the resemblance now. I worked with your father briefly in Hammerfell some twenty-five years or more ago. I remember him because he had the same bleeding heart and lack of respect that you do.”

“I’m proud of my father and his work for the underprivileged,” Miranja said, jutting out her chin as Tullius had earlier. “And both my father and I give respect where it’s due. We just feel morally compelled to point out injustice regardless of who’s perpetrating it, and that includes the Empire.”

“Well, his soft heart is what kept him from advancing past Captain. He could have been a general himself, if he’d been tougher.”

“My father and I don’t measure success by titles and wealth. We measure our riches and our station in life by the happiness we create and the love we give and receive. My father retired a happy, peaceful man, and he’s still bringing joy to those around him and earning respect for his deeds.”

“Well, that’s a heartwarming story, Auxiliary, and your opinions are duly noted, but it’s time we got back to business.”

Miranja heaved a resigned sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke tiredly. “Very well, sir. What’s next?”

“I need someone I can trust to deliver a message of great import to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have it on good authority that Ulfric has raised enough men to attack the city of Whiterun. The Jarl, however, refuses the Legion’s support. This missive should convince him. Be aware, soldier, these documents contain sensitive intelligence for the Jarl’s eyes only.”

Yes, yes, she’d overheard the conversation between Rikke and Tullius when she’d first walked into Castle Dour yesterday. “Of course, General. We may not see eye-to-eye, but we are on the same side, and you can trust me. Balgruuf was one of my first friends when I came to Skyrim. I’ll see this gets delivered.”

“You do that,” Tullius replied, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You’re dismissed.”

Once they were outside, Tel whistled – or tried to, and only partially succeeded with the scarf over his face – and shook his head. “Damn, woman, I can’t believe you spoke to a General like that and didn’t end up in the stockade.”

“Speaking your mind isn’t a crime, Tel, and I didn’t disobey any orders. I asked him for permission to be candid, and I also made sure to include ‘with all due respect.’ My father taught me that. I know when I’m within my rights.”

Teldryn chuckled. “I like a woman with cast iron balls. I bet your dick is bigger than his.”

Miranja grinned and blushed with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. They were still standing between the door guards, and there was no way the guards hadn’t heard the whole conversation, but they were wisely keeping their mouths shut. She knew the barracks would be abuzz later, though.

“So, what are we going to do with the rest of the evening, boss?”

[angelsdvsts]

"i mean, i guess there isn't anything wrong with the confidence that you give... but like you said, i'm going to need to see it for myself to decide if you're really skillful or not," she had no doubts about it -- especially when he accusingly was two-timing girls... he had the looks and he definitely seem to be good in bed. laughter falls from her lips, their talk was anything, but innocent.. yet it amused her, this was the type of conversation that keeps her hooked. "oh? well, i definitely do prefer a tighter grip as well. . . it annoys me when my hair gets in the way." no ayla might look as if she was innocent, didn't know how to handle dick, yet there was a part of her that was just plain nasty, enjoys the rougher aspect when foreplaying, there was a curiosity to see if he would exceed to her liking. hearing his words, she didn't expect anything less from him, "so.. what i'm hearing is that you're really desperate for another date with me?" would he still chase after her, even if she turn down his advantages? there was a part of her that likes how he's actively after her.. it was what she wanted, to get the plan in motion. "arlo, it's freezing cold outside, my tits are going to fall off if i'm in your car shirtless," she points out, shaking her head knowing that he would enjoy the view all too much if she sat there topless with her perky tits asking for him to play with them. "yeah? if i send you little tutorials you'll rewatch it over and over again?" and if she were to send him little videos of herself, she definitely would ensure it was something cute and sexy, flashing her tits or playing with herself, maybe even show just how flexible she could be in her little lingerie. "a girl that only wants one night with you? that's kinda hard to believe, right?" chuckles falls from her lips, not meaning to boost his ego, but ayla always imagine he was the one to break things off with girls. "i do.. and i'm just waiting to be stuffed, think you can be the one who's able to fill me up?" when he releases her fingers, her body felt hot.. cheeks flushed at his words making her shake her head. laughing as she shoves him slightly. "i'll just slide onto your lap make sure i don't stain anything."

"there's nothing wrong with confidence, especially when you know you can back it up but hey i get it . . . you need to experience it first before you admit that all that ego stroking is well deserved." homme flashes her a cocky smile, because on this subject at least arlo is sure of his ability to follow through. while his little handyman business was yet to become a real thing he wouldn't turn down a chance to help ayla out with a little filling and plugging. he's just kind in that way. "most of the time a soft and gentle grip is preferred", admits with a barely disguised crinkle of his brows, "but personally i'm a bigger fan of a tight hold, gives me more control . . . over your hair", tacks on with a quiet laugh. as if the pair were just talking about her long locks and how best to secure them. most of the girls he's been with were interested in a little roughness, a spank to their ass or their cunt when they were feeling it, but for the most part it never went beyond that -- arlo couldn't say for certain what his limit was, but he knew he hadn't found it yet, hadn't even gotten close. "when i know what i want i don't stop until i get it, it's the way i am", shrugs at her praise, not being able to hide how it lifts him a little. he was focused on his sport which most of the time meant his grades suffered, too much time spent on the football pitch and not enough spent studying and preparing for tests. "oh no need for that, you can just take your top off and sit on that", idly waves his free hand in the air, chuckling at the image that conjures up in his mind. bare tits, cunt soaking her own t-shirt as she practically begs for arlo to close the space between them and play with her. "mhm it's all about the mixed media aspect, y'know? i think it'll really help me learn if i have something to watch . . . maybe more than once." while he was alluding to content definitely not suited to essays and multiple choice questions arlo also would appreciate some actual help toward his biology grade --- once they got this tension down a notch or two. "it can be hot", relents with a slow shrug, "but i've dealt with girls who want a quick fuck and nothing else but they don't actually say that. or it goes the opposite way and i'm an asshole for not realising. i just want someone to come out and fucking say it how it is --- that they wanna be fucked over and over again until they can't handle it anymore, until their cunt is too full of cum to take another load." he thinks ayla might be that girl, the one who actually understands him, who can match him perfectly. "you have a big appetite?" hues dance across her beautiful face, landing on those sinful lips. licking that digit clean the man slowly pulls back, releasing her finger with a light pop. "and we don't want you to get wet in public, do we? the owners might not like it if their booth is stained by you . . . but i would." and there's another tug on her dark hair, a knowing smirk playing on his mouth.

[kathlare]

balancing act

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: A glimpse into the whirlwind of Amelie and Lando's intertwined lives, balancing their thriving careers and personal moments amidst the chaos of London. Through playful banter, demanding schedules, and quiet shared moments, their bond is a testament to finding stability and joy in the fast-paced world they navigate.

Wordcount: 2.1 k

Warnings: just fluff

July 2nd, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

The early morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Amelie’s cozy London apartment, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. The faint hum of traffic from the streets below mingled with the occasional meow from Benny, who stretched lazily on the windowsill. His brother, Björn, darted around the living room in pursuit of a stray piece of crumpled paper, his antics filling the space with chaotic energy.

Amelie sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop balanced precariously on her thighs as she typed furiously. A half-empty mug of coffee rested beside her, forgotten in her focused haze. Benny sauntered over and plopped himself onto her lap, purring loudly as he demanded attention.

—Benny, cabrón, not now,— she muttered with a laugh, gently scratching behind his ears.

The door to the bedroom creaked open, and Lando emerged, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. His curly hair was a mess, and he wore a McLaren hoodie that was clearly one size too big for him—her hoodie.

—Morning,— he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He shuffled toward the kitchen, glancing at the chaos Björn was causing. “Jesus, your cat is feral.”

—That’s not news, babe,— Amelie replied without looking up. —He’s been like this since the day I got him. Maybe he gets it from me.—

Lando snorted as he poured himself a cup of coffee, adding an ungodly amount of sugar. —Doubt it. Benny’s more your spirit animal.—

The early morning banter set the tone for their day. Lando leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, his gaze softening as he watched Amelie wrestle with Benny’s insistence on being the center of her universe. The apartment was a mix of their lives—her eclectic taste evident in the mismatched throw pillows and vintage posters, and his influence peeking through in the occasional F1 memorabilia scattered around.

—You’ve got that radio thing at ten, right?— Lando asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

—Yeah, and the magazine shoot after. You?—

He groaned, running a hand through his curls. —Interview at Silverstone. Something about “British pride” or whatever. Then another one in the city later. Can’t wait to be asked for the fiftieth time what it feels like to drive a car.—

Amelie chuckled, closing her laptop. —Poor thing, living the dream sounds exhausting.— She placed Benny gently on the couch and stood, stretching. —Well, at least we’ve got lunch to look forward to.—

—You mean we’re actually sticking to the plan today? Miracles do happen.—

She rolled her eyes, swatting at him playfully as she headed to the bathroom. —Go shower. You smell like yesterday.—

By nine, the apartment was a flurry of activity. Amelie’s glam team had taken over the living room, their chatter mingling with the buzz of curling irons and the faint strains of her album playing in the background. She sat in front of a mirror, her makeup artist deftly applying a bold eyeliner as her hairstylist curled strands of her dark hair into soft waves.

Björn leaped onto the counter, knocking over a bottle of setting spray.

—Björn, hijo de tu madre!— Amelie exclaimed, reaching out to grab him before he could cause more chaos.

Lando, freshly showered and dressed in his signature black jeans and a Mclaren tee, watched the scene unfold from the doorway, amused. —Your cats are more dramatic than you are.—

—Takes one to know one, Norris.—

—Touché.—

He wandered over, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. —You look nice.—

—They’re not done yet.—

—Still.—

Her stylist smirked. —He’s a keeper, Mila.—

Amelie met Lando’s gaze in the mirror, her lips quirking into a soft smile. —Yeah, he’s alright.—

By noon, their schedules had dragged them in opposite directions. Lando was seated in a glossy studio in Silverstone, fielding a barrage of questions about his hopes for the weekend, the car’s performance, and his thoughts on the iconic British Grand Prix.

—It’s home turf, so yeah, there’s always pressure. But honestly, I’m just trying to enjoy it and give the fans a good show.—

The interviewer leaned forward, grinning. —And is it true you’ve been spotted around London with a certain Oscar-winning actress?—

Lando’s cheeks flushed, a boyish grin creeping onto his face. —Uh, yeah. Amelie and I are dating. But you already knew that.—

—Lucky guy.—

—Tell me about it,— Lando replied, a spark of pride in his voice.

Meanwhile, Amelie was stationed in a chic Soho café for a photoshoot, balancing a steaming cappuccino in one hand and answering questions in between poses.

—Your album Short n Sweet drops next month. What inspired the title?—

She tilted her head thoughtfully. —It’s kind of an inside joke. I’m not exactly known for being concise, but this album is. It’s a snapshot of where I am right now, you know?—

The photographer motioned for her to shift, and she adjusted her position, her heels clicking against the tiled floor.

—And where’s that?—

She smiled, thinking of Lando. —Happy.—

At 1:30, the two of them met up at a quaint bistro tucked away in a quiet London alley. Lando had beaten her there and was scrolling through his phone when she arrived, her presence announced by the clink of the bell above the door.

—Hey,— he greeted, standing to pull her into a quick hug.

—Hey yourself. Survive the morning?—

—Barely. You?—

—Björn didn’t burn down the apartment, so I’m calling it a win.—

They settled into their seats, the hum of conversation around them providing a comforting backdrop. Amelie reached for the menu, her fingers brushing against Lando’s in the process.

—What?— she asked, catching his amused look.

—Nothing. Just happy you’re here.—

Her heart skipped a beat, but she played it cool, flipping open the menu. —You’re such a sap.—

They spent the next hour laughing over shared appetizers, swapping stories about their hectic mornings, and stealing bites off each other’s plates. Despite the whirlwind of their lives, these moments felt sacred—a reminder of why they worked so well together.

As the waiter cleared their plates and brought the check, Lando leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed lazily over his chest. His eyes glinted with a teasing mischief that Amelie had come to recognize all too well.

—So, did they ask you about me today?— he asked, a grin playing on his lips.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, reaching for her purse. —Of course they did. Apparently, being in a relationship is my entire personality now. Forget the album, forget the acting, it’s all about Lando’s girlfriend.—

—Sounds like great PR to me,— Lando quipped, leaning forward to grab the bill before she could.

—You’re not paying, cabrón,— Amelie shot back, tugging at his hand.

—Too late,— he teased, holding the receipt just out of her reach. —I already made up my mind.—

—Lando!— she groaned, but the playful frustration in her voice only made him grin wider.

—Relax, you can pay next time.—

—There won’t be a next time if you keep this up.—

He laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek. —You love me too much to mean that.—

She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t hide the soft smile tugging at her lips. He’s infuriating, she thought, but he’s also kind of right.

The afternoon saw them go their separate ways once more. Amelie returned to her apartment for her final interview of the day—a candid sit-down with a popular podcast host. Her team had transformed the living room into a cozy set, fairy lights twinkling against a backdrop of bookshelves and her own album cover prominently displayed.

—Welcome to the show, Amelie!— the host began, their voice warm and inviting.

—Thanks for having me,— she replied, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

The conversation flowed easily, touching on her creative process, her inspirations, and how she balanced her career with her personal life.

—You’ve been incredibly busy lately, movies, music, and now you’re performing at the Summertime Ball. How do you stay grounded?—

Amelie paused, her thoughts drifting to the curly-haired boy who’d teased her over lunch. —Honestly? It’s the people I surround myself with. My family, my friends, and, um, my boyfriend. They remind me of what really matters.—

—Lando Norris, right?—

She nodded, her cheeks tinged pink. —Yeah. He’s been great. Super supportive. Even when I’m all over the place, he’s just…there.—

Meanwhile, Lando was back at Silverstone, fielding another round of questions under the hot lights of a press conference.

—So, Lando, you’ve got the British Grand Prix this weekend and your girlfriend’s album dropping next month. Will you be celebrating both?—

He smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. —Of course. I’m her biggest fan, so if she wins a Grammy someday, I’ll be taking all the credit.—

The room erupted in laughter, but Lando’s grin softened as he added, —Honestly, though, I’m proud of her. She works so hard, and she’s amazing at what she does. I’m just lucky to be along for the ride.—

By the time evening rolled around, Amelie was packing for her trip to Paris. Her suitcase lay open on the bed, a mix of chic outfits and comfortable staples spilling out. Benny lounged on top of her folded clothes, his soft fur a stark contrast to Björn’s wild leaps across the room.

By the time evening rolled around, Amelie was packing for her trip to Paris. Her suitcase lay open on the bed, a mix of chic outfits and comfortable staples spilling out. Benny lounged on top of her folded clothes, his soft fur a stark contrast to Björn’s wild leaps across the room.

Lando appeared in the doorway, holding two steaming mugs of tea. —Need a hand?—

—If you can convince Benny to move, sure,— she said, gesturing at the cat.

He set the mugs on the nightstand and walked over, scooping up Benny with surprising ease. —Come on, mate. You’re in the way.—

Benny purred contentedly as Lando scratched behind his ears, and Amelie couldn’t help but smile.

—You’ve got a way with him. Björn, on the other hand…—

—Björn’s just misunderstood,— Lando joked, dodging as the mischievous cat pounced toward him.

They spent the next hour together, folding clothes, sharing stories about their day, and stealing kisses in between. The cozy atmosphere of the apartment felt like a refuge from the whirlwind of their schedules.

As Amelie zipped up her suitcase, she turned to Lando, her expression soft. —You know I’m going to miss you, right?—

He pulled her into a hug, his chin resting on the top of her head. —I’ll miss you too. But it’s only a week. Then I get to see you light up Wembley.—

She smiled against his chest, letting his warmth settle over her. —You’re coming, right?—

—Wouldn’t miss it for the world.—

They stayed like that for a while, the sounds of the city fading into the background. For all their chaos, these moments of stillness reminded them why they worked. They were each other’s calm in the storm—a love as steady as it was electric.

[peppymintdreams]

isaac with a listener who had a toxic mother growing up?? hurt/comfort please, i've had a rough week :(

Ofcourse my child let mama peppy comfort you may I bless you with a better week

Shadows of the Past

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

The rain fell steadily against the windows, a soft melody that filled the stillness of the room. You sat curled on the couch, lost in thought, your gaze unfocused on the faint glow of the television. Though Isaac had been in the room with you, you barely noticed when he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned moments later, a warm mug of tea in his hands.

Quietly, he set it down on the table before settling beside you, his movements deliberate and calming. His gaze, piercing yet tender, lingered on you for a moment before he spoke.

“You’re carrying something heavy,” he said softly. “I can see it in the way your shoulders curl, the way your hands tremble. What is it, my love?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Isaac always had a way of unearthing the thoughts you tried to bury, of coaxing them out into the light with his quiet persistence. But this... this was a pain so deeply ingrained, you weren’t sure how to put it into words.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, the crack in your voice betraying you.

He moved closer, his hand resting gently on your knee. The touch grounded you, soft yet firm, like a tether keeping you from being swept away. “Don’t do that,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Don’t diminish what you’re feeling. You can tell me. Always.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you looked away, ashamed of your vulnerability. “I was thinking about my mom,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible.

Isaac didn’t react immediately, but his hand stayed where it was, offering silent support. “Go on,” he urged, his tone a gentle nudge.

You drew a shaky breath, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them. “She wasn’t like most mothers. She was... controlling, cruel. She tore me down every chance she got, made me feel small, like nothing I did was ever good enough. And then, somehow, she’d twist it so I felt like I needed her approval just to exist.”

Isaac’s jaw tightened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes, though his grip on your knee remained steady.

“She criticized everything,” you continued, the pain of each memory sharpening your voice. “My looks, my choices, my dreams. She’d compare me to other people, like I was a disappointment she had to endure. And if I ever tried to stand up for myself... she’d guilt me until I felt like the worst person alive.”

Isaac’s hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away a tear. When you met his gaze, you saw something that made your breath catch—a depth of emotion so profound, it was almost overwhelming.

“My love,” he began, his voice low and sonorous, each word chosen with precision, “it is an unspeakable cruelty to wound a soul as pure as yours. The torment she inflicted is not your burden to carry—it is a testament to her own inadequacies, her own failure to recognize the radiance you possess.”

The weight of his words settled over you, a soothing balm to the ache in your chest.

“She stole pieces of you, didn’t she?” he asked, his tone a mixture of sorrow and fury. “She took your confidence, your joy, and replaced them with doubt and pain. But hear me now, my love: you are whole. Even with the scars she left behind, you are whole, and you are extraordinary.”

You blinked rapidly, your tears flowing freely now, and Isaac cupped your face with both hands, as if shielding you from the shadows of the past.

“She sought to diminish you because your light outshone her fractured soul,” he continued, his voice soft yet commanding. “But you are brilliance personified. Every scar you bear is a testament to your strength. Every step you take away from her is a victory, a defiance of the narrative she tried to write for you.”

Your voice trembled as you whispered, “Sometimes I still hear her... telling me I’m not enough.”

Isaac’s jaw clenched, and he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Then let my voice rise above hers,” he said, his words a tender vow. “Let me drown out her echoes with truths that are irrefutable: you are enough. More than enough. You are a symphony of grace and resilience, a masterpiece of heart and spirit.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, filling the voids left by years of doubt and pain.

“You are the very dynamics of beauty and strength,” Isaac continued, his tone reverent. “And I, who have seen the depths of you, find myself in awe every single day. To me, you are not broken. You are radiant, my love. And no voice, not hers nor anyone else’s, can take that from you.”

You sobbed openly now, your face buried in his chest as his arms wrapped around you, holding you with the unwavering steadiness you so desperately needed.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words fragile yet fervent.

“And I you,” Isaac murmured against your hair, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “With a depth that words cannot fully capture, but I will try, again and again, for as long as you’ll allow me. You are safe here, my heart. Always.”

In his embrace, you felt the chains of your past loosen, the weight of your mother’s voice fading beneath the steady, unrelenting strength of Isaac’s love.