#the world is spinning but only in vain

[the-mountain-flower]

Erin Ruunaser and the song "Shatter Me" by Lindsey Stirling and Lzzy Hale aways struck me as very fitting

Now it's practically his theme

[iwashie]

Sevika x stripper!reader, +18, 3k, MDNI!!

“Don’t get your hopes up, girl.” You furrowed your eyebrows, a pout forming on your beautiful face as you watched your painted nails press against the sheet, avoiding looking at her getting dressed. “You know it was just a good time together.”

You bit your mouth, feeling your chin tremble and your eyes burn from the tears that were about to come out because of your heart that had just been broken by Sevika. It's always been that way; you did your job as a dancer in the brothel, exchanging glances with her all night so that at the end of the night she would steal you from other customers, pleasure you, leave a good amount of money and then leave out through the door in the same hurried way that she entered. You knew it was stupid to fall in love with something momentary, but how could you not get feelings when Sevika protected you from annoying customers, looked at you with attention and desire, and gave you pleasure as if you were the only woman in the world. As if her mission was to be your devotee, as she was in those few hours you two spent in a room at the back of the brothel.

You knew you would only suffer if you harbored feelings for those gray eyes and roguish smile. You knew it was all in vain, but you did it anyway; you fell in love with those moments and Sevika's warmth. What can one do about it? The heart wants what it wants…

You felt her fingers on your chin, lifting your gaze to hers and you saw those light gray eyes soften, indecision hovering on her face for brief seconds, soon disappearing as soon as she squeezed your chin. “We're not… I’m not for that, girl.”

Sevika let go of your face and turned back, that broad back disappearing through the door and leaving you alone in the messy room still smelling of tobacco, your perfume and the faint smell of sex, the low purple light wavering just like you. You felt your eyes fill with water, the stinging soon turning into a silent cry, hot tears running down your face along with the makeup and the pain of disappointment filling you as you lay down on the bed messed up by the two of you.

After that night, Sevika never showed up at the brothel again and you had to get used to the new empty routine of looking around the corner where she used to stay and just having the men play, and the automaticity of you getting on stage, dancing, serving a few customers and then left alone, cramming yourself into the big coat, heading through the streets of Zaun.

You moved to the beat of the music, your body swaying back and forth, making the sequin skirt glued to your thighs reflect the colors of the pebbles and follow the slow movements of your waist while your arms slid along the hem, wrapping around the object and holding the weight of your body so you can turn, go up, go down, support yourself and perform as you had rehearsed. Luckily for you, the music was calm, sensual and somewhat melancholy, helping you keep your eyes on the floor as you danced, avoiding eye contact with the customers, as you had been doing since that night.

You felt the music echoing inside you, guiding your movements across the bar, sliding to the floor and continuing the performance lying down, moving your legs and waist in alternating movements according to the rhythm of the music. You climbed back up, jumping on the bar and spinning a few times before hanging upside down, your legs up simulating steps and returning to stand straight on the bar, sliding your hand as your waist swayed against the object. You looked around the people present in the place, not lingering too long on the men who were smiling and enjoying your performance, looking at the back of the brothel to attract customers as they entered, but you swore you saw her hiding in the back.

You felt your heart skip a beat, but you continued the performance, taking the opportunity to check if it was really her. It was her. Sevika was hidden at the back, leaning against the wall, the green light of the brothel barely illuminated her, but you knew that powerful posture, those gray eyes focused on your figure. You finished dancing and continued working, waiting on some tables and keeping company with other customers, your gaze always following where she was.

Sevika looked so different since the last time you saw her. Her hair was very short, that confident and arrogant expression gave way to a dejected and irritated one, those gray eyes that shone with determination and desire were just a blurry gray in a pitiful and sad look, but the worst of all was that her left arm was missing. Sevika held eye contact with you for a long time, and you noticed how exhausted and helpless she was. You almost abandoned everything and followed her when she looked away and left the brothel with her head down.

You ended the night without seeing her again, and that made you restless, a mix of anxiety and nervousness growing inside you, almost leading you to run out and look for her. You stepped out of the brothel and tightened the strap of your bag on your shoulder, closing your arms around your body to hold the heavy coat and protect you from the cold night, you sighed deeply and prepared to continue on your way when in the corner of your eye you saw something moving in the dim street light.

You held your breath, tightening your grip and feeling your heart beat faster, your eyes filling with water as you stared at Sevika standing in front of you protected by a long cloak, both waiting for a reaction from the other. You didn't look away from the woman and saw those eyes ask for you. You almost dropped your bag when you let go of your arms and took steps towards her, the click of your heels echoing loudly on the deserted street, stopping a few steps away from her, asking for permission to get closer.

Sevika let her shoulders fall, sighing softly, and you threw yourself at her, wrapping her in a tight hug that was returned by the woman with the only arm she had left. She buried her face in your neck like she used to do, and in that moment, you had forgotten she had broken your heart and disappeared, and now she came back like a dog regretting having run away from home. You didn't say anything, that hug said it all, and you knew that she had been through a lot during her absence.

You two followed in silence through the streets, heading somewhere you weren't sure of since you had never taken that route, much less had the woman's company. You stopped walking in the middle of the busy street with the bars around, and she also stopped. That silence was killing you, and you needed to know why she was doing that to you.

“Sevika…” The rest of the sentence died in your throat when she looked at you, those gray eyes reflecting your stupid image staring at her and that mischievous sparkle appeared in her eyes again, making you get lost in the present and past, barely noticing her approaching and towering over you, your eyes trailing to her puffy mouth painted with dark lipstick.

You gasped as your back met the hard wall and you felt Sevika's body pressing against yours, her breasts against yours, her hot breath hitting your face raised to look at her and the thick thigh between your legs. You shivered when you felt her calloused fingers passing through your arm under your coat and going up to your neck, caressing the side and wrapping around your throat, giving a light squeeze as you liked and making you let out a whine. Sevika kept those gray eyes on yours, attentive to your every reaction, wandering over your face as if memorizing what she had forgotten, and pressed her forehead to yours, closing her eyes while still feeling your warmth and your rapid breathing.

She opened her eyes and you looked at her, alternating between the gray of her eyes and the dark of her lipstick; You licked your mouth and swallowed, looking up again, knowing that Sevika didn't kiss, never. She smiled, shaking her head slightly and leaned in more, joining your mouths in a seal, you sighed in surprise and she slid her tongue into your mouth while her hand fit the contour of your face.

You remained unresponsive for a few seconds, very surprised that the woman who the first time you spent the night together pushed you away saying she didn't kiss; it was very intimate and was the door to catching feelings. Sevika squeezed your face, bringing you to reality and you kissed her back, following her tongue with yours while your hands went up to her neck and held her against you, moving your mouth in the rhythm she wanted.

Sevika never kissed for fear of falling in love, and now you understand why. That woman's kiss was a killer. You pulled her against you, almost lying against the wall as you pressed yourself against her and returned the kiss with the same intensity, feeling her explore your mouth, sucking your tongue and biting your lower lip, sliding her tongue back into yours as she squeezed you by the back of your neck, and pressed your mouths tightly; savoring your taste and devouring your moans and sighs as her thigh pressed and moved between your legs.

You sighed against her mouth, moaning when you felt her bite your bottom lip and kiss you again, pulling you more and more against her. You were out of breath, your brain going fuzzy, body begging for oxygen as you clung to her as if your life depended on her and that fucking amazing kiss; you felt fucking amazing kissing that woman, trapped in her heat. You didn't want it to end.

Sevika tugged at your bottom lip one last time and moaned as she pulled away from you, pressing her forehead to yours. You half-opened your eyes, seeing the smudged lipstick and the swollen lips wet with your saliva, you swallowed and filled your lungs with air, pushing your forehead against hers, giving her lips a light seal, feeling her reciprocate.

“Sevika…” You pushed your head against the wall, giving more space for Sevika to mark your neck with kisses and bites while her large, calloused hand squeezed the skin of your belly.

She kissed down to your chest, kissing the exposed skin of your breasts, giving light bites and hickeys as you liked. You were shaking from her touches, your trembling hands squeezing her shoulders and your legs shaking from the caress in your intimacy. You looked at her still marking your chest, the dim orange light in the alley illuminating half of her face, her gray eyes shining with desire, her roguish smile as her mouth was attached to your skin.

You placed a hand on her cheek, caressing the warm brown skin, watching her lean into the touch and close her eyes. Suddenly, you were back in that room at the back of the brothel, feeling Sevika's touches and heat, those gray eyes devouring you... And suddenly, she wasn't gone, your Sevika was there.

“Sev… please…” You moaned when you felt her hand on your thigh, reaching up your skirt. She stood straight, her hand cupping your face and her gray eyes glued to yours. You squeezed her face, running your thumb over her lips, still staring back at her, begging for her like before.

Sevika sealed your lips once again, her hand stuck to the back of your neck and some strands before leaving the alley pulling you with her.

You barely noticed when you arrived at a small apartment, probably hers, too focused on the sensations of her mouth on your neck and shoulder as soon as your coat hit the floor. “Ah…Sev…Ngh!” You moaned softly, feeling the strap of your top slide down your arms and her mouth moving down to your left breast. Her left hand was missing, but she managed to pay attention to your breasts, leaving them full of teeth marks, saliva, and lipstick.

“Damn… I missed this so much…” She whispered in your ear, feeling one of your breasts and pulling the areola, making you hang your head and whimper, closing your legs around her knee.

You took off your top, throwing it on the floor as you were guided to the bedroom between kisses and sighs, Sevika's big, warm hand squeezing and scratching your back and waist. You fell onto the mattress with a groan, your hands supported you, and spread your legs for her to settle in the middle.

“Sev, I missed you so much, sev…” You said, rubbing your face against her hand and taking your hands to her tight waist, entering her short blouse and feeling the warm and firm skin on your fingers, moving your fingers up to her breasts. Sevika sighed heavily into your mouth, closing her eyes, feeling your nails playing with her breasts and kissing you with hunger and desire, teeth and saliva.

You undid the zipper on her cape and blouse, throwing the pieces away and enjoyed that firm and warm brown skin that you loved so much, running your hands over her full and soft breasts, feeling her shiver with your touches and letting out a groan when you took your wet lips in the middle of her breasts, her hand getting caught in the middle of your strands and pulling them, forcing you to face her.

“Tonight is not about me, girl. It’s about you and how I want to fuck you like I used to.” You shuddered and smiled openly, your eyes disappearing into a line, your expression dissolving into pleasure as you imagined that woman fucking you willingly like before. “Take off your skirt and open your legs.”

Sevika got off of you, and you slid the piece along with your panties away from your body, lying back on your elbows and opening your legs, showing your already wet pussy to the woman's hungry eyes.

You shuddered as you felt Sevika's long fingers slide from your mouth to your neck, breasts, stomach, groin and thighs, squeezing the soft flesh and teasing you with her thumb very close to your pussy. You stared at the woman, begging her to touch you, but she just smirked and continued to tease you.

“Sev-Ngh!” You moaned, shuddering and curled your fingers as you felt her fingers slipping into your folds, one finger entering and spreading your liquid to the nerve. “So wet for me, babygirl.”

You pushed your waist against her fingers, sliding them into your pussy and smearing them. Sevika took her fingers out of you and brought them to her mouth, tasting and cleaning them, humming when she tasted you. “Fucking delicious … My girl.”

You moaned loudly, keeping your eyes open and focused on Sevika enjoying your taste and bending down on the edge of the bed, approaching your waist and distributing wet kisses on your skin, caressing down to your pussy and placing a light kiss on your clitoris, smiling against you as she felt you shiver.

Sevika distributed kisses over your pussy, running her tongue lightly over your folds and sucking the liquid that dripped more with the woman's caresses. You gasped, lifting your back off the bed when you felt her flatt tongue lick from bottom to top and suck hard on your clit, opening your folds with her fingers and mouthing your pussy, licking and sucking every little bit, rubbing her nose on your nerve, repeating the movement slowly until you bring your hands to her hair, pressing her against you.

You rubbed yourself against Sevika's face buried between your legs, your fingers tightly stuck in the dark strands as she sucked you eagerly, her nose brushing your clitoris as she stuck her tongue inside you and slid it into your folds, returning to sticking her tongue in you and gulping down your liquids in loud, needy noises.

Only Sevika could have you rolling your eyes, moaning loudly, your back arched, your fingers curled, and your body trembling, completely in ecstasy with pleasure. You just wanted her to give you pleasure and have you like that; she was perfect for you, and you were perfect for her.

“Sev… I’m close…” You warned, but she knew just by the way you trembled and your pussy squeezed her tongue. She knew you like the back of her hand. “Ngh! Sevi…”

She pulled away from you, her face glistening with your liquid, her pupils dilated and the gray of her eyes shining clear with desire. You were breathing heavily, your body sprawled out on the bed, your teary eyes shining with desire for that woman.

“Come get what you want, girl.” You crawled towards her, lowering yourself until you pressed your lips against the skin of her stomach, your hands pressing her sides as you kissed down the trail of hair and unzipped her pants with your teeth, sliding the garment and her panties down her toned legs in a hurry.

Sevika was looking at you from above, seeing your beautiful red face rubbing against her thigh and moving up to her wet pussy, placing a light kiss on her hairy crotch. Her hand tugged at your strands before you stuck out your tongue and licked her, pushing you onto the bed and settling between your legs; your left leg raised, locked around her waist while your right leg was on top of her left, like you guys did when Sevika needed relief, and feel all of you.

You held her by the waist, your nails scratching the flesh, sometimes going down to her ass and thighs, rolling your hips against hers as she pressed and rubbed your pussies at a fast pace, and squeezed your neck, swallowing your moans and sighs.

You were close to cumming, feeling her pussy rub deliciously against yours, your liquids making the movement very wet, obscene and pleasurable, the wet noise of your pussies along with the moans and sighs of the two of you, the smell of sweat and sex impregnated in the stuffy room.

You increased the pace of your waist, feeling your clit bump against hers at the right angle, making both of you moan loudly, your toes curling as you pulled her down, kissing her with need and feeling; You were very much in love with that woman.

Sevika laid on you, still keeping the movement and pressed your face, kissing you back with need, affection, and feelings. “Sevi… I’m going to-Ngh! Ah…ah!”

"That's right. Be a good girl and cum for me.” Sevika whispered against your mouth, hand sliding to your breast and squeezing the nipple, feeling you gasp and shudder as you came in her, your nails scratching her broad back. “That's it. My good girl…” Sevika gave you a peck on your lips and stood straight again, the rhythm of her waist accelerated and out of step, also cumming and squeezing you.

She laid on top of you, you intertwined your legs with hers, and hugged her, feeling her heat and weight. You two remained silent, normalizing your breathing and calming down from the orgasm. You became very aware of what was happening and feared that everything would happen again when she moved, freeing herself from your embrace.

You felt your heart sink, your eyes burning, and your breath catching in your throat as you brought your hands to her body. “Sevika, please don’t go.” Your voice was choked, and you would easily cry. Sevika held your hand, and you intertwined your fingers, reaching up with your other hand and kissing her hand. "Please."

Sevika closed her eyes and sighed heavily, squeezing your hand back and pulling you towards her body, resting her chin on the top of your head, feeling the hot tears running down your face. “I’m not going anywhere, girl.”

“I’m sorry about before…” The words hung in the air, and you hugged her, clinging to her warmth and crying more. Her hand stroked your hair as she told you she wasn't going anywhere. “Let’s be together…” You lifted your head, nodding quickly in agreement, and felt her lips on your forehead. “My girl.”

@iwashie 2024 please do not translate, modify or republish my works

[totheblood]

can you write about spencer getting flustered around confident!reader please thanks<33

spencer reid x confident!reader | fluff | cursing, banter

spencer was completely enamored. 

that was the only word for it, he decided. it was a weird moment to come to this realization, seeing as he spilled his glass of red wine all over your dress and was helping you clean it up frantically, but that's when he realized he was completely and utterly enamored with you. 

you were always this way, so unapologetically yourself even when anyone else in the situation would be embarrassed. it's half of the reason spencer had decided to drink tonight. he didn't usually drink but he decided that tonight was the night he'd work up the courage to ask you out, and since he didn't have half as much confidence as you, he found himself relying on the liquid to give him that push. 

but he just found his hands shaky as he approached you. he didn't expect you to look so good tonight, not that you aren't usually stunning, but tonight you were adorned in a short white mini dress that puffed at the end, white heels making your legs look longer than they were, and a simple silver chain wrapped around your neck, the one you always wore. you were tightly hugging garcia, almost squeezing the air out of her as you handed her a gift, wrapped in a cheetah print gift wrap that screamed 'garcia'.

spencer spent too long getting ready tonight, choosing to show up in a grey suit, loose button up and tie. spencer would never admit this out loud but he began wearing his ties looser so that when you saw him, you would adjust it. he liked the contact and being close enough to you to smell your perfume, but it didn't make him feel any better for tricking you. 

he approached, one hand shoved in his pants pocket, the other one holding his glass of wine. he sauntered over to you, grinning ear to ear with his cheeks tinged pink. 

"hey spence," you smiled, turning to him. he liked when you did that, gave him all your attention, your body, mind, and eyes solely focused on him, "you clean up nice."

he practically choked at your comment, words coming out in a jumbled mess but the smile leaving his eyes, "w-well, ye- yeah, you clean up nice... as- as well!" he managed out embarrassingly, but in true you fashion you didn't make him feel bad, you didn't pity him or tease him, you just did a spin in your dress making his throat go dry. 

"thank you!" you giggled smoothing down your dress with your hand, "i got this dress on sale and was so relieved when it fit me like a glove," you beamed at him, pulling up the straps, "it was the last one left,"

"well, you look," he blinked for a moment, "stunning," he surprised himself with how effortless that came out and for a moment had stunned you too. you blinked back, a smile creeping back onto your face. 

"thanks spence," you replied quieter, but still with all the quiet confidence you carried everywhere. spencer liked being friends with you, but more than that he liked being around you. he always assumed that people who liked themselves would be stuck up, vain almost, but it was never like that with you. you made it a point to make sure everyone in your life saw themselves how you saw them. you'd do small things like give compliments to nearly everyone you met, to bigger things like creating an entire book of your 'favorite things about penelope' when she made an offhand comment that merely suggested she didn't like herself. it was clear you were content with who you are by how you viewed the world. there was no competition, there was no need to put anyone down, just the kindness of your heart. 

your compliments usually made spencer fluster, trip over his words (and his feet) but he always assumed you were being nice. you complimented everyone and he fell in line with everyone. but when you stepped towards him, lifting your hands to adjust his tie, he felt himself faltering again. your manicured fingers adjusted his tie just as he planned but you didn't move when you were done. you stared up at him with big doe eyes that made spencer melt immediately. 

"you smell really good, spence," you said, no, you whispered and it made him nervous. the way you were looking at him made him think that you wanted this, that you wanted him. in that moment he decided now was a better time than ever to finally ask you out, but the thought alone of you rejecting him made him nervous. it made his hands shake as they got clammy and as he went to speak he forgot his glass of red wine was still in his hands. before he knew it he was spilling red wine all over the pretty dress that was the last one left. the one you just told him had fit you like a glove and that you had been excited to find. it spilled and he felt his chances with you trickle to the floor as everyone looked over. 

"shit," he cursed, "i'm so sorry," he looked up at you nervously, putting his now empty glass on the table beside them. he was ready for you to yell, to cry, to shove him, but instead you just laughed, giggling as you wiped at your dress. 

"well, there goes two dollars down the drain," you shrugged, looking up at him to see his nervous face, eyes almost glossed over, "oh, spence," you cooed, "it's fine, i'm fine. mistakes happen."

"but you just bought it, and it does fit like a glove and i'm so sorry, i'll buy you a new one," he rambled out walking over to the kitchen to get some paper towels, you hot on his trail as he took the whole roll and starting dabbing at the stains on your dress. you wanted to push him off, tell him it was okay and to not worry, that there was no way he would be getting the stain off. but you liked the contact so you just watched. you knew it gave his hands something to do while he anxiously patted at it and apologized over and over again like an incantation. 

"spence," you said, voice sweet and saccharine, "stop, it's okay. it's just a dress and the dress was literally two dollars," you stilled his hands by placing yours over his, he stopped breathing for a moment as he looked at you anxiously.

"i just got so nervous, you were so close-" he started.

"oh, shit, i'm sorry. i know how much you like your personal space, i should have-" you rushed out immediately feeling guilty but he cut you off as well. 

"no, i liked it, i like you being close, i just got nervous because-" he stammered out, the confession getting lost in the dual apologies. 

"because germs, i know. i'm so sorry, spe-" you were cut off by him squeezing your hand. 

"because i like you," he cut you off, his hand now shaking, "and i know that sounds childish but i just want-"

"it doesn't sound childish," you whispered gently, "it sounds sweet,"

"it does?" he asked, voice dripping with worried as he looked in between your eyes. 

"yeah," you stood taller, "i like you a lot, spencer. why do you think i'm always fixing your tie?" 

"why do you think my tie is always loose?" he quipped back, small smirk forming on his face, causing you to playfully hit him. 

"you little player," you giggled, your tone teasing as you beamed up at him, "well, are you gonna ask me out?" you asked, removing your hands from his to cross it across your chest. 

"w-well, yeah, i was getting to it," he breathed out nervously, "would you like to get dinner with me sometime?"

"with the guy who just ruined my dress?" you replied, eyebrows raised but instantly feeling bad when you watched the color drain from his face, "spence, that's a joke, of course i want to get dinner with you."

"cool," he breathed out, face returning to its full color and a deep shade of red, "cool, cool, cool," 

[sabyfangirl]

Stay With Me

Summary:

Let's just say that sometimes, when you're having an atrocious night, you need that special someone to be there for you...

“Chris!” Martin called for his brother. “Chris?!”

He was nowhere to be found.

Martin was running through a forest, unlike any other forest he’d ventured in before. He dodged branches, jumped over fallen tree trunks... It seemed as though the trail would never end.

The sun was shining through the tree leaves, making his surroundings all but beautiful. Yet, it all felt so... ominous.

Finally, he slowed to a stop. He thought he had caught a familiar shade of green from the corner of his eye.

Maybe even a hint of red.

He backed up and went to take a look.

…

His face dropped at the sight of his brother lying unmoving on the ground, like a marionette with no puppeteer.

“CHRIS!!!” Martin cried out as he dropped to his knees.

He quickly held his little brother in his lap, and nearly screamed at the sight of blood covering his abdomen. It didn’t take long before his shirt got stained, though it was the least of his worries at the moment as he was too busy trying to put pressure on the wound.

Chris gave a faint whimper. His eyes were closed, almost in a lifeless way…

With a bloody, shaky hand, Martin felt his brother’s pulse: it was weak. Nearly non-existent.

“No, no, no- ” In a wave of panic, Martin held his brother’s face close to his. “Chris, look at me. Look at me, I’m right here!” He begged him as he swiftly brushed his brother’s hair back. He held his hand tight, heavy tears forming in his eyes.

Only two barely audible coughs came out.

“Y-You’re gonna be just fine, I-I promise!” his voice cracked hard.

What even happened? Was it a wild animal?!

“M-Martin…”

Martin gasped softly hearing his brother’s frail voice.

With the little strength he had left, Chris forced his eyes half-open, barely . He was terrifyingly pale; he had lost a lot of blood…

He met his brother’s tormented gaze and, without a word, he simply smiled bittersweetly.

Martin’s eyes grew wide.

No. This couldn’t be happening .

“Chris…” Martin shook his head, his little brother still smiling at him. “Don’t do this to me.”

Chris’ eyes began to close, his hand gradually losing grip on his brother’s.

“Chris?”

Finally, his fingers were resting on the edges of his brother’s palm.

Martin was left staring at his little brother’s lifeless face, eyes wide from shocked despair.

“Christopher…” A pained cry escaped his chest. “Don’t do this to me, bro. Come on…” He gave his body a vain shake. “No, no…” His voice was feeble, nearly broken.

With trembling hands, Martin slowly cupped his little brother’s bloody face. His poor, precious little brother . His tears began to pour down harder than they ever did. He gasped silently as he buried his brother’s numb face in his shoulder. He soothingly ran his hand through his hair, his lips pressed against his forehead. His glassy eyes wandered into nothingness as he painfully processed the fact that he was no longer there, no longer with him.

“No, no, no… Please. Please, don’t do this.”

Eventually, his sobs became louder and interminable, tightly hugging his dear little brother’s limp body in his arms, his tears falling onto his hair.

“ Oh, God. ”

He could already feel the crushing weight of grief pushing down on him, life seeming to have lost all meaning all of a sudden.

“Please, God. No…”

What would he do without him?!

His companion. His best friend.

The world around him began to spin, his tears blinding him from looking at his brother’s face. Then-

“AH!”

Martin’s head was pounding. His entire body was soaked with sweat. He was gasping for air, clenching his chest hard. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest any moment. Tears were stinging his eyes and staining his face. Heavily disoriented, he couldn’t even make out where he was, and the darkness in the room didn’t help much.

“Martin?”

He suddenly heard him, his eyes growing wide in the dark. That voice .

As he looked to the side, Martin found a pair of brown eyes glowing in the dark. He wanted to say something, but it almost felt like his voice had been stolen. He was paralyzed .

He sensed someone getting out of bed on the other side of the room.

Click .

A night lamp was turned on.

Chris, who looked very much alive , went over to check on his brother. As he sat on the side of his bed, Martin’s eyes remained fixated on his brother’s visage.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asked with concern, as his brother only stared at him like he was a ghost. “Martin, you’re kind of freaking me out,” his voice cracked a little.

Martin was pale as a sheet. His eyes scanned Chris’ abdomen: no blood.

At that moment, the image of his brother’s blood-covered body flashed before his eyes.

“ AHH! ” he let out a loud, panicked CRY .

“Martin!” Chris immediately tried to calm him down.

Martin kept screaming, hot tears flowing down his face.

“HEY! Hey, I’m here. You’re okay. Breathe. Breathe.” Chris held his brother’s hands tight, trying to look into his eyes.

“I-I can’t! I can’t!” Martin was practically gasping for air.

“I’m right here, shh…” Chris slowly leaned in for a hug. He gently rocked him back and forth, just like Martin always does to him when he’s in distress.

It took a while, but Martin finally started to calm down a bit, his eyes now bloodshot from all his tears. He held onto his little brother as if the whole world was about to fall apart.

It was a miracle that none of the crew members had woken up so far. (Although Jimmy could be cast aside for that.) It had been a long day, after all.

Chris subconsciously slid into bed, his brother’s arms locked around him as though he was a treasured possession.

In a way, he was .

Chris tried to get his brother to lie down. He could hear his heart pounding hard; he frowned. His brother’s tears had really soaked his hair. Nonetheless, he didn’t mind. The bed was shaking from his brother’s agitation.

Several minutes later, Martin let out a prolonged, heavy and shaky sigh. He sniffled as he wiped his face in his pillow before taking a deep breath.

“Sorry- I-I’m so sorry- ” his voice was terribly raspy.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Chris rubbed his back comfortingly. “I’ll go get you some water.”

As soon as he shifted to get up, Martin instinctively locked his hand on his brother’s wrist like a handcuff.

“ NO! ”

Chris nearly jumped at his reaction. He looked down at his brother’s pleading eyes, his hand tightening on his wrist so hard that he winced from the pain.

“Martin?” Chris’ brows furrowed.

“S-Stay with me,” Martin begged.

Reading his brother’s eyes, Chris understood. “Okay, then. I’ll help you get to the main room and grab a glass of water,” he suggested with a tender tone.

Martin scanned his brother’s eyes deeply, and with the soreness in his throat, it was all enough to convince him. He gave a small, quivery nod.

Carefully, Chris reached out two hands, one to hold his brother’s, and the other wrapped around him for stability.

Martin’s knees were trembling so hard, doing an incredible job at making the trip from the brothers’ room to the main room a challenge of its own. He felt weak, so close to just collapsing onto the floor right then and there. Despite the fact that his brother was heavier than him, Chris was determined to support his weight as much as he could.

When they made it to the main room, Chris led his brother to the center table where he could rest while he went over to the sink to fill him up a glass of water.

That small, insignificant distance between the sink and where Martin was sitting were enough to make him dreadful to the core. He couldn’t even swallow anymore. His shoulders were tense. He kept his drowsy eyes on his little brother, refusing to even blink , fearing that in that minuscule fraction of time, he would just vanish into thin air.

He watched as Chris brought him a glass full of refreshing water before sitting next to him. It took him a few seconds before having a good hold of the glass; his hands were still a bit shaky. But the cool liquid was all but soothing for his throat, making that small “trip” all worth it.

Putting the glass down, Martin sighed heavily. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Chris put a hand on his shoulder and, thanks to the bit of moonlight shining through the rooftop, Martin was able to see his smile. A smile he wouldn’t trade for the whole world.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Chris finally said in a hushed tone.

Without another word, he accompanied his older brother back to their room, Martin seeming a little less shaken. Regardless of how small the change was, it made Chris feel a little at ease.

Once they made it back, Martin lay down in bed, refusing to let go of his brother who had no choice but to stay by his side. He ran his hand through Chris’ hair as a coping mechanism of some sort, cherishing each second of it. Normally, Chris would be giving him a hard time for touching his hair, but this was an exception he was more than willing to make.

Silence.

“You wanna… talk about it?”

Martin’s heart skipped a beat. He shook his head hard, tightening his arms around his little brother.

Chris sighed. “You don’t have to... But it might help you feel better?” His voice was calm and soothing.

Martin swallowed hard.

“I- ” he found it hard to talk. His eyes began to water again. “I’m just glad you’re here. With me .” He pulled Chris even closer.

Chris felt another tear fall on his hair. His brother’s words deeply perturbed him. He remained silent, snuggling deeper into the embrace.

All through the night, Martin was almost certain he’d never be able to go back to sleep. But Chris refused to fall asleep before he did. He could tell Martin was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“You need sleep, bro,” Chris finally said.

Martin didn’t say anything.

…

“I was running in a forest,” he suddenly started.

Chris was all ears.

“And I was looking for you…” His voice was getting more shaky with each word. “And when I found you- ” A small squeak escaped his throat. “You- ” He swallowed hard. “Y-You were- ” He began to tremble again, sounding as though he would burst into tears once more.

Chris could feel his fingers digging into his shirt and arms. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s okay now.” He brushed his hand against his brother’s agonized face. “Whatever happened to me, just know it was never real.” He looked up to find tears already seeping through the corners of his brother’s eyes.

“But i-it felt so real ,” Martin’s lips were shaking badly. He never sounded so scared, so vulnerable.

It almost made Chris burst into tears.

“Hey, look at me.” Chris held his face and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?” His voice was comforting and reassuring. “When you wake up, you’ll find me right here.”

Martin looked down at his brother for the longest time, sensing the sincerity in his eyes. “Promise?” He gave him a longing look.

Chris caressed his hand. “I promise.”

With a tear-stained face, Martin gave him a somewhat relaxed smile. “Okay.” He seemed a little pensive.

After a while longer, Martin finally yawned. “Thanks, Chris.” He gently rubbed his face against his little brother’s hair, scooching as close as possible.

It didn’t take long before Martin gave in as he was drifting back to sleep.

Soon, Chris could hear him snoring softly. With a tired smile, he carefully pulled the blanket over them both, his brother’s arms strongly locked around him.

Chris hid his face in his brother’s shoulder and curled into a little ball, Martin now seeming at peace for the first time since he’d woken up.

At last, Chris closed his eyes, and whispered, “Good night, big bro.”

Notes:

Thank you @littlecrittereli for the wonderful cover you made for this fic!

[incorporealbombchelle]

The Wife Of A Close Friend

Daniel Cleaver × Fem!Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Part 1 - One Christmas Eve, while Mark is stuck at the office, Daniel Cleaver pays (y/n) a visit...

⚠️TW: Cheating, Mild Daddy Kink, Mild Dirty Talk, Manipulation, Sleaziness, Raw P in V Penetration, Carly Simon, General Smut.

The house phone rings out, shrill and I pick it up "Hello?"

"Hello, (y/n). When's hubby due home?" Daniel, my husband Mark's best friend.

"Daniel, hi. Mark said he'd be back closer to 6pm. Do you two have plans tonight?"

"I'll be there in 10. Wear something appealing."

"Its only two, why would you-" click.

Asshole.

I hang up and a little over ten minutes later the doorbell rings. I open it to a smiling, if fatigued, Daniel Cleaver. He's flushed, breathing hard as he runs a hand through his hair. Today he's wearing a linen button down and jeans under his coat and if I wasn't constantly on the verge of wanting to kill him, I'd say he looks good. Great, even.

"Did you run here?"

"Did I run here? Will there ever be peace in the middle east? Are you wearing panties? These are all very difficult questions, (y/n), I propose we start with the panties and work backwards," he wheezes

"Watch it-" I warn

"You're right, I'm awful, we should talk it out over drinks,"

I roll my eyes and he nods into the foyer, pushing past me.

"Oh, won't you come in." I plead flatly.

I step aside, closing the door to follow behind as he saunters into the kitchen, plucks a beer from the fridge and discards his coat over the counter. His eyes leer over me as he takes a swig of his drink.

"Does Mark know you traipse around the house in these skimpy little dresses while he's at work?"

"It's Prada, for your information and it is not skimpy..." I tug the hem of the mini dress as low as I'm able to, but it refuses to support my assertion and I feel myself redden some.

He smiles devilishly and turns away for a moment, teeth catching his lower lip as he does. "Right," he scoffs, amused at my expense.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this midday home invasion, Mr. Cleaver?"

"Two-thirty is hardly the middle of the day, (y/n), middle of the afternoon maybe, but-"

"The point. Reach it."

"You don't remember the model number of the speaker set you gave Mark last year for Christmas off-hand, do you? I've been looking for something similar for my flat, they're sold out everywhere, and I've never heard more crisp audio in my life than I have through those speakers."

"Oh, erm... I don't remember it off-hand, actually, we did just move them to the bedroom from the living room, I'll show you where they are. Do you have a pad and pen?"

"Always, lead the way."

I show him upstairs to the bedroom and lean against the doorframe, pointing out the speaker set just across from mine and Mark's bed.

"Just there, check whatever you need."

"Excellent, you're a peach, thank you."

"Anytime."

I watch Daniel investigate the speakers, turning a couple over and writing down some numbers in his moleskine. He then shuffles through the adjacent CD collection a bit before looking over to me.

"What's your poison?"

"I'd rather not."

"Come on (y/n), have some fun, god knows that's gone out the window here now that you and Mark are married." He quips, continuing his search.

"Here, Carly Simon : 'No Secrets', we love a bit of Carly, dont we?" He winks and I can't help but giggle.

He sets the CD into the player and selects a track, pressing the play button. The muted bass intro of  'Youre So Vain' fills the room and Daniel is... it wouldn't be fair to call it dancing but he is definitely... moving to the beat, and -shock horror- extending a hand to me.

'and all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner and-' 

I let out a loud laugh as I take his hand and we are twirling, twisting, dancing... having fun. 

He's not the worst dancer in the world and I nearly cackle as he dips me, brings me up, spins me out and back into his arms, and this is nice, actually.

We sway and maybe I've judged him a bit too harshly... he is best friends with Mark after all, how bad could the man be, really?

"Y'know, Mick Jagger subbed in backing vocals on this one..." he speaks into the crook of my neck, low and soothing, his breath warm.

"Did he?" It becomes apparent to me that yes, yes he did. Interesting.

"Mm. It's funny, the song could very easily be about him..."

"I suppose it could be, huh..."

'I had some dreams, there were clouds in my coffe, clouds in my coffee and...'

As we sway, Daniel's body molds to mine, hands finding my hips. I let my eyes close, my hands resting over his. We fit together like puzzle pieces as our fingers interlace and this is nice. It's never like this with Mark.

Daniel's lips ghost the side of my neck and a shiver runs down my spine "Daniel, don't..." I turn around, my eyes meeting his in shock.

"(y/n), darling, relax. We're only dancing. I know for a fact, Mark barely even uses these speakers. Why not let me appreciate what he so clearly doesn't?" he closes the short distance Ive left bewteen us, eyes trailing over me, drinking in my face, my figure. "What he couldn't...possibly..." his eyes capture mine and he leans down, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. I don't move. I can barely breathe.

'and when you're not you're with, some underworld spy or-'

Daniel's lips lock to mine and the world goes quiet. Our tongues explore eachother's mouths and he moans and before I realize it I'm unbuttoning his shirt.

Daniel places a hand over mine. "(y/n). wait, wait." A look of genuine concern colors his features as he looks down at me, speaking softly "I just... I want you to know that I like you. Love you, really. Every day I kick myself for not objecting to your vows with Mark. You've completely captivated me since our first meeting. You occupy my mind, always... not just when I'm in the shower. So this... you, wanting me too... it...means something to me." His eyes search mine for understanding and it's there.

I take a deep, shaky breath. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"What could I have said? 'No, Darcy, please don't marry her, I love her more than you do' ??"

His tongue traces his lower lip as his eyes flick to my mouth, and he starts to lean in again.

We shouldn't. This is wrong. I'm married to his best friend. He's an awful person. A total prat. A prat who tastes like cigarettes and Diet Coke. A prat whose hands feel incredible on my ass. A prat, who is currently...unzipping my dress... and whose charm I am utterly defenseless to. 

The dress in question falls to the ground in a heap and I'm stood before him in just my bra and panties. As Daniel looks me over, a low moan escapes him and he gasps.

"Ohh, how I've dreamed of this moment. You are...perfect, (y/n), just...ravishing..." his arms wrap around me again and he nibbles my neck while unhooking my bra, tossing it haphazardly aside.

He drags the freshly dampened panties down my legs and helps me out of them, eyes holding mine as he does. But his clothes are still on.

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" I question.

"Looking to level the playing field?" A grin. Daniel reaches a hand back, closing the bedroom door with a click.

I bite my lip, reaching out to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders.

His arms are well-muscled, his chest taut and stomach defined. I start to undo his belt, then his trousers, dropping to my knees before him as I do.

I can tell just from the outline of it he is thick and my mouth drops open as I watch his dick strain against the fabric of his black boxer-briefs.

My fingers hook into the sides of the waistband and he takes in a sharp breath as I pull them down his legs, cock eagerly bouncing forth to greet me.

Daniel tilts my chin up so I'm looking up at him again. "Can I ask a favor of you?"  He smirks down at me.

"Yes, Mr. Cleaver?" my best bambi eyes.

"Open your mouth, Mrs. Darcy."

I open wide for him, tongue out, and Daniel laces his fingers into my hair, slowly guiding my head as far down onto his length as possible, in and out, gradually speeding up to a regular pace. I gag when he hits the back of my throat and blink away tears as he continues to roughly fuck my mouth.

"Ohhh, Mrs. Darcy, your tongue feels fucking exquisite... there you go, that's a good girl... take. It. All..." he dips into the back of my throat a few times in a row and when I  gag again, he groans, gasping sharply. His hand is still enmeshed in my hair and he reminds me of it by jerking my head backwards, cock exiting my mouth with a pronounced pop.

Daniel strokes my cheek, taking in the sight of me on my knees, heaving, lips swollen, body buzzing.

"Mm. I think I'm going to have to fuck you now, (y/n). Too gorgeous not to, I'm afraid. Lay back for me, yeah?"

I rest back on the carpet and he follows me down, nipping and kissing down my neck, hands traveling over the contours of my body as he does.

He takes his cock in hand, stroking it a few times as he looks my face over.

"Are you ready for me?" I nod and he smirks, parting my legs. He glides the tip along my vulva, teasing, and lets out a satisfied hum at the slickness of it.

Daniel aligns himself with my entrance and hastily slips his cock inside of me. He is... much larger than I realized and I gasp at the sudden fullness as he begins to steadily roll his hips down into mine.

"Fuck me, that's tight, have you been fucked recently, (y/n)?"

My face is hot, all I can offer is a choked whimper and he smirks down at me.

"That's a no, then. Ah, don't worry pet. Daddy's here and he's going to take very good care of you..."

he murmurs into my neck, pace picking up.

He feels remarkable but it's so much and "D-Daniel?"

"Mm?" He keeps rocking into me,

"I- mmmh, it's- you're just- it's really big, and-" I gasp as his tip hits my cervix.

"Oh? Are you not used to something like this?" He taunts, grinning.

"Bit much for you then?" He gives another forceful buck into me and I moan.

"(y/n), we can stop whenever you like, you just. say. the word..." he pounds into me hard, one hand pinning my hip in place as I wrap my legs around him. " No Daniel, don't stop, please don't stop!" I whine.

"Mm. See, that's what I thought you might say... sound so fucking pretty when you beg for it like that, too..." he keeps railing into me and I gasp, feeling my body start to coil.

"(y/n) I'm going to pull out now, and you're going to turn over for me, yeah?" I nod.

"Good girl."

He pulls out of me and I do turn over for him, arching my hips up and looking back at him.

Daniel runs his hands over my ass, giving it a firm squeeze before guiding himself back into me.

It's easier to take this time, though still a little overwhelming. He pushes into me carefully, slowly, holding my hips steady, and as he fills me out I realize I spoke too soon.

He starts bucking into me again, his strokes commanding as our bodies clap against eachother. "Oh my Gohdd," I groan, tensing around him.

One of Daniel's hands snakes around my hip and his fingers toy with my clit expertly as he continues ramming into me. His other hand grasps a fistful of my hair, yanking back ruthlessly and my entire body is rigid with need as I clench around his cock once, twice.

"You are just... magnificent, (y/n), so wet, so fucking tight, christ, are you about to come?" He slows his thrusts some and I whimper at the change of pace.

"I said, are you gonna come for me?"

"Yesssss, please" I breathe, desperate.

"Please what?" He slows down to a glacial pace, still playing with my clit, torturous, and does he actually expect me to say it? No. There's no way.

"Please what. (y/n)?" Oh my god. He wants me to call him-

"Daddy! Please Daddy, let me come, I need it,"

"There you go, wasn't so hard, was it?" He speeds up again, pistoning into me rapidly, his grip on my hair tightening. "Tell me something (y/n), has Mark fucking Darcy ever made you feel this good? Ever made you crave it the way you do right now?"

"No, never!!" The words leave me before I'm aware I've said them and I wish it wasn't true.

"Who makes you feel like this?"

"You!! Only you, Daniel!!" I whine.

"That's right, now are you going to be a good girl and come for Daddy? I can feel you fucking twitching, (y/n), just. Let. Go."

Orgasm hits like a train and within seconds I'm a mess of pathetic, whimpering contractions beneath him, completely undone.

Daniel slows, letting me ride out the final waves of my climax, hand finally releasing its grip on my hair.

The familiar creak of the bedroom door handle cuts through our shared panting and the dulcet tones of the Carly Simon CD. Mark. No. No. Nonononono, SHIT.

My body goes slack beneath Daniel's and I look back in mortified terror.

Mark stands in the doorway, fuming.

"What the absolute fuck is going on here?"

A beat.

Daniel clears his throat "Oh. Erm. Hah. Mister. Darcy...you're home... earlier than anticipated. This is... awkward." he manages, sheepish.

Mark's eyes widen at the scene before him and I watch his face crumple momentarily as the information sets in.

Me. Ass up for Daniel Cleaver. On the floor of our bedroom. In our home. In the middle of the day. To Carly Simon. Mark exhales through his nose and he's bright red.

"Cleaver. May I speak to you outside for a moment?"

"Outside your wife or outside of the room?"

"You know what the bloody fuck I meant, now get the fuck off of my fucking floor!" He hisses, seething as he steps politely into the hallway.

"Right. Both then." Daniel mumbles into my neck, withdrawing from me and yanking on his clothes to follow Mark downstairs.

My body is hot lead and my head is hazy as I listen to the frantic yelling downstairs, something is thrown, -glass- it breaks, and finally, the front door slams shut. I hear Mark's footsteps bounding heavily up the stairs and I am well and truly fucked. In all manner of ways.

But all I can think about... is Daniel...

[didhewinkback]

thirty, flirty and thriving

a something old blurb for the birthday boy. 2 and a half months late but who's counting

word count: essentially 3k, warnings: none

---

He can feel tears prick his eyes the second they all start in on the song. All of his favorite people in one place, just for him, gathered around the cake you’re holding up. Suppose he’s someone who cries at birthdays now. 

He’s just…bloody overwhelmed. Perhaps it’s all the tequila flowing through his veins but it feels like more than that. Thinking about how you somehow managed to surprise him with all these people to celebrate his birthday, that his friends - some of whom he hasn’t spoken to in ages, ranging from the lads from school to the friends he made in LA when he was 22 - all made the trek to London to be with him tonight. How he’s often the youngest in his group of friends and how it feels like just yesterday that meant being 19 in a group of 30 year olds and now it's being 30 in a group of friends on the other side of 40. 

He’s fucking thirty. 

It should send him into a spiral about where the time has gone and how it went by so bloody quick but right now, he’s just grateful for where it’s landed him. Right here. Surrounded by his favorite people on the planet, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the woman he’s going to marry, his best friend in the entire world. Ten years ago, he was getting monstrously drunk at a club with Grimmy and their mates, feeling both on top of the world and more alone than ever in ways only an incredibly famous 20 year old can. But here and now, he feels settled. He feels good. Like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes but also like he’s just getting started. 

“....happppy birthday to yOouUuUou” everyone sings, all eyes on him as they wait for him to blow out the candles. He places his palm to his chest, trying to lock eyes with as many people as humanly possible, trying to say thank you with a look, doesn’t want to do a speech, not now. He just loves these people, he loves this life, he loves his birthday and –

He feels an elbow in his side and looks over at you, your face aglow from the absurd amount of candles you’ve squeezed onto the cake - he’s 30, not 87, thanks - your eyebrows raised in expectation. 

“Cake’s fucking heavy, mate” you say and he throws his head back in laughter, smacking a kiss to your head before looking back out at the party. 

“Sorry - know the wax ‘s getting everywhere, but just wanted to say -” he says, taking a deep breath, vision blurring a bit. “‘M so lucky and feel so grateful to you all for being here. Thank you’s never going to be enough. But you’ve all made me into the man I am today ‘nd I wouldn’t be me without you. So thank you and I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And with that, he takes a deep breath, squeezing you close and making a wish, wishing for every birthday to feel just like this, for the ability to make everyone in this room feel like they’re making him feel now as he blows all the candles out in one swoop. The party erupts in cheers and whoops and he barely has time to press another kiss to your cheek before he’s pulled back into the fray, bombarded with an endless stream of hugs, kisses, people rubbing his head and pressing glasses of tequila into his hand. He just feels like he could burst, is the thing. A room full of people who know him and love him and don’t want or need anything from him, just want to celebrate him for who he is. They’ve turned the music back on and he sways his hips and stomps his feet as he knocks back another glass, letting the beats wash over him as he gets lost in the crowd of friends.

It’s later, he’s tucked in a booth with the lads as he takes in the room around him, though it’s spinning a bit more than it was before. Tom’s got his arm around him and is telling the 18th embarrassing anecdote of the night, trying in vain to bury the fact that just moments ago he got a bit teary when he spoke about the first time they met. And that’s when he sees you across the way, laughing about something with Johnny. His eyes trace the line of your neck as you tilt your head back, the curve of your jaw, and then, as if you can sense him, your eyes lock with his. 

It never gets old, this. It feels like electric currents are buzzing through his system when you smile at him, that just for him smile,  as he tilts his head towards the doors leading out back, once, twice, three times, topping it off with a dramatic roll of his neck until you’re smirking, already making your way up to stand. He taps Tom on the thigh before sliding out of the booth and making his way over to where you’re waiting by the doors, instantly wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as the two of you duck outside. 

It’s cold, but the heaters and fire pits around the patio help and he wraps himself around your back, matching you step for step as you head over to the corner railings, away from any prying eyes. You lean against the railing, looking up at the night sky, what you can make of it from the city lights. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

“Y’ cold?” he asks and you’re shaking your head but he feels you shiver against him and that’s all the answer he needs, already pulling his suit jacket off despite your protests, and holding it out for you to put it on. “C’mon, ‘s my birthday wish.”

You shake your head and snort, sliding your arms into the jacket and turning around, wrapping your arms around his waist as you smile up at him. He shuffles you a bit closer to the heater, pressing a kiss to your cheek, brushing his knuckle along your jaw.

“Good birthday?” you ask softly and he’s already nodding, can’t believe you’re even asking.

“The best,” he says, “Can’t believe you did all this.”

“You really had no idea?”

“Surprised the shit out of me.” he says. “Y’ always get stressed when we’re running late for dinner so that’s the only reason I thought y’ were being jumpy.”

“Oiii–” you say, slapping him lightly as you laugh. “Not my fault you took ages to get ready. Man’s early for everything but the second you tell him what time to meet at a restaurant, he moves in bloody slo mo.”

“Heeey.” he whines, but there’s no heat behind it, pulling you closer and laughing when you do.

He can hear the party raging on from out here and he still just can’t wrap his mind around it. That he’s 30. That he’s gotten to live the life he has over the last ten years and he has all those people in there to thank. He’s bowled over, the love in that room radiating through his every pore. Not sure he ever knew he could be this loved. 

He can feel your eyes on him and knows you’re letting him gather his thoughts, content to just stand there and patiently wait until he’s ready. Letting him do what he needs to do. Never pushing, or prying. Just knowing him. And loving him. And there’s just something about that, isn’t there?

“‘M just like…” he starts to say, stopping himself when he feels emotion clog his throat. “I cried 10 times already. Bloody Cal is here.”

“Easiest party planning of my life,” you say back softly, tightening your arms around him. “Everyone said yes immediately, they were so excited to celebrate you. Everyone in there really, really loves you.” 

His breath gets caught in his throat at that, blinking back the tears that seem to permanently reside in his eyes tonight. He rests his hand along the side of your face, dragging his thumb along your jaw. Not sure what he did to get nights like this, to get you looking at him like that. He’s so, so lucky.

“I really, really love you.” you say softly and he just - he can’t explain the noise that escapes him as he crashes his lips against yours, tightening his grip on your jaw as he kisses you the way he’s been thinking about all night. You sigh against his lips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him, lips not daring to leave yours for a second, kissing you over and over again. 

He could stand here forever, kissing you like this, but he has to breathe, eventually. He pulls back slowly, kissing along your jaw, cheek, temple before burying his head into your neck. You slide your arms up his back, hugging him around the neck and pulling him close, your hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck, scratching at the short hairs there. You just stand there for a minute, wrapped up in each other and this may just be his favorite part of the night. There’s something about knowing he’ll always have this. Your arms to fall into. And that’s the greatest birthday present a lad could ask for.

“Thank you so much for all this,” he mumbles into your ear. “Best birthday ever. Proper birthday.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your delighted laugh, pulling back to get a glimpse of your face, the way your eyes are glowing as they stare back at him.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” you say with a laugh. “You were pissed and burning your mouth on a cheese toastie almost a decade ago when you said that.”

“Mmm, a cheese toastie,” he says, giggling at your eye roll. “Course I remember it. Think it every year. ‘S not a proper birthday unless you’re there. I love you so, so much.”

“Thanks for being born,” you say softly, leaning into his touch. “Greatest thing to ever happen to me. You.”

“Baby - ” he breathes out, but can feel emotion clogging his throat again, trying in vain to blink away the tears your words made spring to his eyes. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hand shaking not just from the cold. A lifetime of knowing you and you still make him weak at the knees. 

“Y’ make every day feel like my birthday, y’ know that?” he says softly, feeling like he’s found the right words for the first time tonight. “This party ‘nd this night is incredible. But nothing - nothing - compares to getting to go home with you every night. Greatest gift I ever got.”

He can see the words hit you, the deep breath you take as your eyes rake over his features, smile twitching at your lips as you look at him with such love in your eyes he feels his heart skip a beat. You’re looking at him like you always look at him, really, really seeing him with nothing but utter love in your eyes. God. There aren’t words for that, are there? 

You pull him in, kissing him hard, like you’re trying to pour every ounce of love from your mouth to his and he’s more than happy to drink it up. Drink you up. Drink you in. His favorite taste, his favorite mouth, his favorite person on his favorite day.

His hands squeeze you tighter, living for the way you lean into his touch as it rakes down your back, settling on your bum. He could lose himself in this, in you. But you both seem to become aware of your environment at the same time, deep kisses slowing into gentle pecks before you drag your lips up his jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you pull him close, hugging him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist as he sinks into your hold. He nuzzles his head into your neck, breathing you in, as he slowly sways the two of you, the party mere background noise to the sounds of your steady breathing, the feel of your hands carding through his short hair. 

It’s a while before he moves, slowly, begrudgingly, pressing a kiss to your neck and tightening his arms around you before mumbling, “I’ve got a crazy idea,” into your skin. 

He lifts his head to look at your face, can see your eyes twinkling, already bracing yourself for what he’s about to say, already in on the joke. It’s a bit he’s been doing every few weeks at this point, ever since you set the date. 

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” you ask, unable to stop the smile growing on your face as you slide your arms down his shoulders, resting your hands on his biceps. 

“Was thinking - since y’ did such a good job planning this party… what do y’ say we throw another one? Like, end of June maybe? Right after your birthday?” he says, pretending to actually mull over those dates, trying to remain deadly serious while your lips twitch into a smile.

“Hmm. I think I could be down for that.” 

“Yeah? Same guest list, bit more of your friends. Some family maybe. Could do it in Italy, near the house.” he says, trying to keep up the bit but the reality of what he’s saying is catching up to him, the familiar tears making an appearance again as he chokes out his next words. “Y’ could wear white.”

“And you could wear a suit.” you say softly, eyes never wavering from his. “Maybe get a new ring.”

“Yeah. You’d like that?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your face when you nod. “You wanna marry me, baby?”

“I really, really do.” you say, the look in your eyes making his heart beat out of his chest.

“Four months,” he says quietly, almost in disbelief of his luck, his life. “You’re gonna be my wife in four months.” 

He can’t tell who moves in first after that, both of you clutching on for dear life as you just about snog the living daylights out of each other. He’s never wanted to ditch a party more in his life. Just wants you, your bedroom, and several hours to even begin to express all he’s feeling right now, all he wants. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you. 

You softly moan into his mouth and he just about loses his mind, thinking about he’ll have a lifetime of getting that sound out of you, just for him. He pulls you impossibly closer as he drags his tongue over yours, keeping your jaw in a tight grip. He could die here, actually. He’d die a happy man, being slowly taken apart by your mouth. 

“Oiii!!!” Johnny’s voice through the open door has the two of you springing apart in shock, though he doesn’t let you get far, burying his head in your neck as he moves his hand off your jaw to flip Johnny off. 

“If you’re both done rubbing against each other out here –”

“Oh grow up, Johnny!” you shout at the same time Harry lets out a “You wish!” that has you smacking him against the head as he laughs.

“The Holmes Chapel lot did promise Hometown Hero over there a birthday shot.” he slurs and Harry begrudgingly pulls away from you to twist towards the doors, pulling your back into his chest as you both face Johnny, his hands resting on your shoulders. “And we’ve been waiting bloody ages –”

“So bloody dramatic,” you huff and Harry laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

“We’ll be right in,” he says watching as Johnny rolls his eyes, holding up a hand to indicate “you’ve got one minute”, as he turns back inside and closes the door behind him. 

“Suppose we better go in,” you say, turning to look at him over your shoulder and he all but swells with pride at the look of you, the swollen lips and slightly messy hair. He tilts your chin a bit more towards him and kisses you once more, squeezing your shoulder before taking a step back. You shrug out of his jacket despite his groan, handing it back to him as you bring your hands up to attempt to smooth down your hair.

“Let’s go, old man.” you say and he squawks, sliding the jacket back on before giving you a cheeky smack on your bum, which you try in vain to dodge before reaching for his hand, interlacing your fingers and heading back into the fray. 

The night spirals from there in the best possible way and while he may not remember every conversation he had, every song he danced to, every shot he took, he’ll always remember the way that room made him feel, the love radiating towards him, overwhelming him, inspiring him, fortifying him. He’ll always remember the feeling of your hand in his, the way your body felt against his own, and later, the taste of you on his tongue. Feeling like he could do anything with you by his side, your love making him feel like the greatest version of himself. Like the best is still yet to come, if that's even possible. 

Proper birthday.

---

a/n: the way i literally had 3/4 of this written on february 1st and then could not get myself to finish it. but here we areeeee baby. hope people are still interested. i really like it and couldnt let it go. let me know what u think love u mean it

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Hey, would love to see a slightly dom Tech x female smut with the prompt "remember you asked me to be rough"

this has been in my inbox for quite literally six months and a day. thank you for your patience, my creative muse has been so wishy washy. thanks to @/dystopicjumpsuit for the ending divider, the other one is mine

Use Your Words

Summary: Tech holds you to your word.

Warnings: 18+ minors begone; dom!Tech, f!reader, manhandling, armor kink kinda, Tech records everything it's a hobby, dirty talk, PiV sex

Word Count: 473

His hands are rough and insistent against your body, pulling clothing from you without a second care for where they end up. He hadn't even bothered to take his armor off; you'd fixed him with a heated look when he entered the cockpit, alone, and he'd simply gestured for you to stand with two fingers. He'd only asked you one question, voice steady and modulated: "How do you want me?"

Arching away from the cold durasteel ship wall, you gasp, cold racing over your skin even as heat burrows into your core. Tech uses the opportunity to slot one of his thighs between your own. Deftly, in the same movement, he snags both of your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand. His other hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise as he adjusts you to his liking. Desire, electric and insistent, hums through your veins. It only becomes more intense when your soaked folds make contact with the rough denim, separated only by the flimsy material of your underwear.

"Stars," you gasp. "Please, Tech."

The little red light on Tech's helmet never wavers when he tilts his head. "Please, what, cyare?"

"Please touch me," you whine. You try to rock your hips, gain some much needed friction on your aching clit, but Tech's grasp tightens impossibly. Through his goggles, his gaze hardens in warning.

"I am touching you," he states. "If you would like me to do something different, you must use your words." 

Swallowing hard, you try in vain to wrest control over your panting breath and racing heart. Maker, he'll be the death of you, and you'll greet death willingly if this is how you go. 

"Tech," you say, a pleading note in your voice, "please play with my pussy." 

You can't see the smirk, but you can hear it. "Why would I do that..."

The world spins as he flips you around and, one hand between your shoulder blades, pushes your chest flush with the cold metal wall. Hissing, you wiggle your hips, moaning at the vulnerability of the new position. 

"...when I can fuck it instead?" 

While he'd been talking, he'd freed his cock from the confines of his pants and, holding your panties to the side, splits you open over his hard length. A choked moan strangles in your throat at the sudden intrusion. Without any prep, the stretch is almost too much—almost. Your body accepts him like it was made to; pleasure alights every nerve. Tech doesn't stop until he's flush with your ass. Both hands come to rest on your hips. 

"Remember, cyare," he says, withdrawing without giving you a moment to adjust, "you asked me to be rough." 

Your mind goes blissfully blank as he fucks into you with abandon, fulfilling your request with every sharp thrust of his hips. 

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @dickarchivist @a-single-tulip @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @mssbridgerton @isaidonyourknees @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @dangraccoon @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry @zenrobbins0021 [add or remove yourself from my taglist here!]

[updownlately]

say my name (and everything just stops)

| alessia russo x reader

~~~

“What do you think?”

Doing a little spin, Alessia modelled her dress for you.

Eyes widening at the sight before you, you let your gaze trace over the striker, loving the way the black cloth fit. 

You knew your girlfriend could make anything look gorgeous, but this? This took the win by a landslide- easily being one of your most favourite outfits of hers. 

You were about to tell Alessia as much, mouth opening to speak right as she spoke.

“I bought it because I thought it would look great on your bedroom floor…”

Taking a second to comprehend what Alessia had just said, you blushed at the words. 

Head turning to the side in a vain effort to not get flustered, your tongue pushed into your cheek as an impressed look crossed your face.

You forgot what you were about to say moments earlier, just barely collecting yourself to look back over at Alessia, a small shrug and raised eyebrows your only response.

An amused smile shone on the blonde’s face, the Gunner deciding to tease you a bit more, obsessed with the rosy hue that always coated your cheeks at even the slightest flirtations

“I mean, if you’re having doubts, we can always test it out and see how you like it…”

At this point you didn’t know what to say, too flabbergasted with your girlfriend’s forwardness.

Biting her own lip to hide a smile, Alessia eyed you carefully, heart melting as your blush reddened, head ducking, eyes downcast as you dug your toe into the floor.

Deciding to take it a step further, she stepped forward to where you stood, taking your slightly shaky hands in her own, placing them on her shoulders as hers promptly went to your waist. 

If your brain had been glitching before, it was definitely short-circuiting now. 

Mouth opening and closing a few times, you willed words to come out but there was nothing but pure silence, silent pining and anticipation thrumming in your veins. 

It was at your fourth impression of a fish out of water that Alessia decided to put you out of your misery- or into more misery if you were asked.

Whispering your name into the space between you, the footballer tugged you closer to her, closing the gap between your bodies. 

All you could feel now was Alessia. Her hair slightly tickling your ear. Her strawberry perfume overwhelming you in the best way possible. Her slight exhales against your own. All you knew was Alessia, Alessia, Alessia- the rest of the world fading away in that moment.  

Only a fraction of a hair of space between you both, your bodies pressed together in the dim room, you could feel your heartbeat start to race even faster.

“Less…” Your exhale was quiet, only heard because the blonde was as near as she was.

You got a hum in response, the girl in question only bringing your faces closer. 

“Did you know I absolutely love the way my name falls from your lips? I can even think of a few circumstances where I’d absolutely die for it…preferably when a bed’s involved…”

By now your brain was mush- complete and utter mush.

Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to keep it together, nervous for where this could go. 

Swallowing hard, you let your forehead fall against the hers. 

“God…”

“Not my name but I guess I don’t mind being called that for a night…”

You let out a quiet huff, mind frenzied in the most pleasant way. 

“Please…” You couldn’t help the plea that fell from your lips, your body completely surrendering without even so much as thinking of anything past this point.

“Please what?”

Taking a deep breath in, you considered backing out now, stepping away, pretending none of this happened, saving your dignity before you nearly started begging.

Your decision, however, was made for you, the grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly- the gentle pressure heady. 

“Please just kiss me…” Your lips were nearly brushing hers as you spoke.

“Yeah? Or what?”

You groaned in response, before not able to handle the flirting and now the teasing.

“Lessi…please…”

You were at the point beyond recovery, too far gone in the intoxicating presence of Alessia around you, the feel of her, her touch, her closeness, to care now.

You tried again…the first ask futile.

“Alessia…”

“Or what?”

You could feel the smile on your blonde’s face, the grin growing with each second.

Mind barely snapping out of it, you managed to form a somewhat coherent sentence, more words than what you had strung out in the past few minutes. 

“Fuck around and find out then…” The teasing threat was clear as your hold on her strengthened. 

“Let’s just fuck around, yeah?”

Feeling the striker close the gap, you let yourself be consumed by the following kiss, being gently pulled towards your shared bed, trusting Alessia as she guided you. 

Glad that your best friend was that and everything more, you followed her blindly, letting the electricity in the room charge you, patience and anticipation of the night to come exciting you. 

Yeah, this was definitely your most favourite dress of hers. 

[ironstrange1991]

Starting Over

Paring: Tony!Stark x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Synopsis: Tony Stark is the best friend you can have when you're struggling with depression.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and medications, depression, social isolation, suicidal thoughts (in the fic they appear in some ironic and deprecatives thoughts).

A/N: I'm not going to pretend I wasn't writing about myself in this fic, you're all too smart not to realize that. It's been difficult days, weeks, months and writing this fic has helped me in a way. There is a lot of angst but also some fluff moments. Hope you guys like it.

You were stuck. In life, in love, at work. The whole world seemed to be spinning, running, happening and you were just there, standing, motionless looking through the window, stuck in gravity.

You were depressed. Not just sad or down, but really depressed. After fighting depression for years, taking every type of antidepressant there was and not being able to get out of that state, you simply stopped trying. Depression was part of your personality now and you wore it almost like a battle trophy, a victory flag that you brandished as if to say: I survive.

Surviving became the thing you were best at. A true prodigy when the subject was to endure. You withstood the strong winds of life, endured through each wave of catastrophe, and remained. Even if inside you were falling apart.

To fall apart. What a funny way to say it. To actually fall apart it was necessary that, in principle, you had risen up at some point. That somehow, even if just for a little while, you had managed to let go of that sad and pitiful state, but that wasn't what happened. You never made it out. Once you got close, but the doors closed before you got through them. The sun set before you could finally reach it just like in that Marilyn Manson song. The same song that played on repeat now through your tv speakers as you sat on your couch in your small apartment on a Friday night after getting home from work. Your cat, Sebastian, sleeping lazily next to you on the couch, completely oblivious to your problems. You liked watching him sleep, he calmed you just by existing and you envied his innocence.

God, you hated Fridays. To be honest, there wasn't a day you liked when in fact you hated being alive. But Fridays were oppressive. They were like a reminder that the world was a living, breathing thing where things happened and you were on the outside, never a part of it.

On Fridays you would hear the conversations of your coworkers talking about the parties they were going to, the dates with their crushes, the family dinners, the happy hours with friends. You once heard a colleague saying that weekends are made for enjoying your family and you wondered if you would feel better if you had a family to run to.

All these fruitless and cursed inquiries would arrive on Fridays like an unwanted visitor and weigh on your chest as soon you close the door behind you and contemplate the emptiness of your apartment. Of your life.

I should get another cat. You would think every Friday night and ended up on the couch, like now, with a bottle of wine, a clonazepam pill, and the vain hope that one day maybe things could change or that one day you just wouldn't wake up on the next Saturday morning. The second option would always bring a sadistic smile to your lips.

Flirting with death again, Y/n. Why do you always end up on this couch flirting with death?!

You were distracted by your own thoughts, immersed so deep in them that the very air around you seemed thick and unbreathable when you heard the sound of the doorbell. You froze for a moment scared by the intrusion. The sound, which you weren't at all used to, sent a shiver down your spine.

There was only one person in the world who had access to your apartment, one person in the world who you trusted enough to give your address, your phone number, your friendship. And this person unfortunately had a too busy life to spend time with you. Even if he tried very hard.

However, contrary to everything you knew to be true, when you opened the door, he was the one standing there, dressed in jeans and a hoodie with the hood pulled to hide the majority of his face and a pair of sunglasses, although it was night. Tony Stark.

"What...?" You started to say, but were interrupted.

"Are you going to let me in or am I going to have to stand here and risk being recognized by one of your weird neighbors?"

You opened the door for him to enter and closed it behind you, still amazed that he was there in the first place.

You and Tony met at one of his science fairs. You worked for a technology company and he offered you a scholarship because he was enchanted by one of your creations. The rest was history. Well, in fact the rest was the only real friendship you had or have in your life, not counting the financial help that ensured you continued paying your rent when the company you worked for went bankrupt and you were fired.

"I've sent you at least ten messages all day. And I've tried calling you a thousand times." He ranted looking at you as if looking for something. "I thought you’ve died or worse."

"What could be worse than dying?" You asked, your voice sounding as monotonous as your life.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, returning to where he had left off.

"What I'm trying to say is that I was worried about you. The last time we spoke you didn't seem well and that was two weeks ago."

You sighed, sitting down and he pushed Sebastian to the side so he could sit next to you. The old cat seemed to glare at him before getting off the couch and starting to lick the exact spot where Tony touched him.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry about the messages, I didn't know what to reply and I didn't see the calls because the cell phone is on do not disturb mode."

Tony sighed. "What's going on? Aren't the medicines working? Is there a problem at work?"

You shrugged. "Same as always. And I'm not taking medication, you'd know that if you read my latest messages, which you haven't done in the last week."

He didn't seem satisfied with your answer. "Why the hell did you stop the meds, Y/n? You  just said they were helping!"

You shrugged. "For the first few weeks. Then they stopped working like all the others. Plus, they don't let me cry. It's a strange feeling."

Tony ran a hand over his face. "Isn't this a good thing?"

"Not really. They don't take the sadness away, Tony, they just don't let me cry it away."

He stared at the TV sighing. "I'm sorry I didn't respond to your messages. I was away. I just got back."

You nodded. "Out of the country?"

"Out of the planet." He said with a shrug "Alien threat, long story. The short version is that I was there leading a team and we won. The earth is saved again. I saved your life again, I'll send you the bill later."

You smirked "As far as it's up to me, you don't need to bother anymore."

Tony made a face, analyzing you closely, but didn't say anything.

"Why are you here, Tony? Really. Don't tell me you were just passing by because you have no reason to come to this side of town."

He sighed. "I'm worried about you. I dreamed about you last night. It was bad, really bad. It made me think..."

You frowned, waiting for him to continue, but instead he pulled you into a tight hug like he was afraid of losing you. You were surprised at first, but then you hugged him back and that feeling, the human touch, was enough to make you start crying.

"It’s okay." Tony whispered in your ear. "You can cry. I'm here, now."

And you cried. In a way you hadn't cried in a long time. All the feelings pent up inside your chest seemed to overflow and you felt relief, almost as if you had carried something heavy in your arms for a long time and could finally let go.

When the torrent of tears finally stopped you pulled away hugging your knees and feeling a little embarrassed, but Tony somehow always knew how to deal with every situation in such a natural way. Sometimes you would catch yourself looking at him and thinking how you could be so lucky to have him as a friend. Good things didn't usually happen to you, but Tony was an exception.

"Can we turn this thing off or at least find something decent to listen to?" He said while searching for the remote.

"Anything but your old man bands." You responded finding the strength somewhere to tease him. He rolled his eyes, finally finding the remote and turning off the TV.

He made himself comfortable on the couch and leaned his face in his hand, staring at you and simply said it. "I want you to come live with me."

And before you could show any reaction, he continued explaining himself.

You shook your head in disbelief. "Tony, you're not responsible for me. We're friends, that's all."

"I have more rooms available in that tower than I have people living in them. Besides, it would make things a lot easier for me. It's hard to keep an eye on you when you live on the other side of town."

He seemed to completely disagree. "It's what I do. I care about the people I love. Please, just... consider it." He ran his hands over his face again. "This is my way of saying I care about you, Y/n."

You sighed heavily. The idea of ​​no longer needing to pay rent was tempting, but on the other hand, what would you do in that place? You would feel like a fish out of water.

"I don't know, Tony. I'm not your superpowered friends, I have nothing to do there."

He stood up looking around and heading towards the cubicle that was your kitchen, somehow completely ignoring your answer. "Have you had dinner?" He asked rummaging through your fridge and grimacing. "Y/n there's no food in here. It doesn't even look like there's a human being living in this place."

You shrugged. "There's enough."

He opened the freezer, rummaging through the packages of frozen food. "For God's sake, is this what you're feeding on?"

You sighed, slightly irritated by the intrusion. "Tony, fresh food is expensive."

He closed the refrigerator, took out his cell phone and typed quickly. "Well, I guess we'll go for pizza tonight. Do you like Pepperoni?"

You weren't hungry, but you nodded anyway, knowing there was no point in arguing with him. Tony might be the smartest person you knew, but he was as stubborn as a mule.

He sat back down next to you. "If you need money just tell me."

You rolled your lips. The idea of ​​asking Tony for money was always in the back of your head, but since you got your job you stopped accepting his help and didn’t want to give in to the temptation again. "I don't want to overstep the boundaries of our friendship. Besides, that would put me again in an uncomfortable position, Tony..."

"Then come work for me. Okay, sorted. I need someone with your skills..."

You rolled your eyes "Do you need someone to create software for you?"

He smirked, "Okay, you got me. But, we can think of something."

You sighed, the corners of your mouth turning up in a smile. Tony was so sweet, you could see an herculean effort from him to make you feel better and it was definitely the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for you.

"I would like to quit my job. It’s a shit job." You admitted staring at your hands. "… and I hate that place. I hate those people."

"Is there any person in the world that you don't hate?" He teased.

You smirked, "You're not so bad."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You snuggled feeling the pleasant warmth of his body and laid your head on his shoulder.

"In fact, I think you're the only person in the world I don't hate."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "I'll take that as a compliment."

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah, as you should.”

He looked at his cell phone's display for a moment and then informed. "Pizza in 20 minutes." He grabbed the TV remote and turned it on again, this time looking for something to watch. He went through the streaming catalogs – from which he was paying for - and ended up deciding on a random horror movie.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes watching the opening scenes of The Nun. The silence, however, was not the uncomfortable kind, the kind that you need to fill with anything because the situation starts to get messy and strange. In fact, there was a certain comfort in being next to Tony, the intimacy that existed between you was something comforting and even cuddling with him on the couch, your head lying lazily on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his waist, his arm resting affectionately on your shoulders, you felt completely at ease and carefree because you knew it was completely platonic. Tony had Pepper and you had simply given up on having a man in your life. Romantically speaking.

"How are things at home?" You asked, breaking the silence. "With Pepper and Morgan."

"Very good. Pepper has been taking care of the company and so she's been traveling a lot, but we're doing great. Morgan is doing really well in school. I think I've done well in life."

You smiled, genuinely happy for him. "Does she know you're here?"

He nodded, but you pushed a little harder.

"What does she think about me?"

"She knows what I tell her. She doesn't care about our friendship, if that's what you're asking."

You nodded, getting distracted by a particularly scary scene in the movie.

"She agreed to you coming and living with us." He said proudly.

You looked at him in surprise. "Seriously?"

"She also warned me that I should offer you a job if I expected you to accept the offer. Pepper knows people, she deals with them better than I do."

You smirked to yourself. "She's an incredible woman. I don't know what she saw in you." You teased tickling his ribs and eliciting giggles from him. You loved the sound of Tony's laughter. It would do you more good than all the anti-depressant pills you've ever taken in your life.

It took about 30 minutes for your pizza to arrive. Obviously, it was you who greeted the pizza guy at the door. Tony was terrified of any of your neighbors finding out he was coming to your house, not only because it could be fodder for the gossip tabloids, but also because it would ruin your privacy.

You put the pizza box on the coffee table and got two cans of soda from the fridge and threw yourself back on the couch.

Sebastian, who had settled into the small loveseat, was now staring at the two of you jealously.

You were surprised by how much you enjoyed your slice of pizza. It was the first thing you were eating that day, but you were sure that what made everything feel so special was the company. Any food, no matter how tasty it was, seemed tasteless in your mouth when you ate it alone sitting on that couch using TV to pretend a non-existent company.

"I could use an assistant." Tony said finishing his soda and looking at you waiting for an answer.

You took the last bite from your piece and chewed slowly thinking about what to say. Deep down you wanted to say yes, but rationally you wondered if you weren't crossing a line.

"You'll have your own room, which is bigger than this entire apartment. You'll have a good salary, meet new people, and spend more time with me. Something tells me that would do you good."

You smiled "I wouldn't know where to start. I don't know your work, Tony and I've never worked as a secretary."

"Assistant." He corrected.

"What if I screw up? What if I disappoint you?"

Tony touched your face "The only way you can disappoint me is by not trying. I want what's best for you and we both know that's not continuing to live in this place alone."

Immediately you glanced at Sebastian sleeping peacefully in the loveseat. "Can I take him with me? You know I'm not going anywhere without him."

Tony pretended to think about it. "You know he hates me, right?"

"He doesn't hate you. He's just jealous of me." You corrected him.

Tony smirked "You can take him, but he will have to stay in your room the whole time. It's not safe for him to be loose in the tower."

“Is it safe for me? I mean, with your weird friends there?”

Tony nodded “I’ll be there to protect you from them, don’t worry.”

Tony pulled you into his arms and you finished watching the movie like that, feeling safe in his arms and with a sense that somehow everything would be okay.

You sighed finally surrendering.

"Then the answer is yes."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Happy Ending | EXTRA 02 | Because I love you

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 3,494

Warnings | +18, presence of a lot of blood, a dead body, Jungkook is absolutely crazy here, dark atmosphere, MC is deeply shocked, many tears, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, anger, angst, smut dubcon, raw sex in the shower, vaginal penetration, yandere themes, touches and kisses, this is a yandere story, be careful.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You have finally discovered Jungkook's dark secret, are you ready to accept the man you have come to love?

➢ Author's Note | Happy birthday to me!!! 🥰🥰🥰

To celebrate I decided to post the second extra of Happy Ending, let me know if you like it! 💕

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts, @aiiselle90210, @fewercascade , @mageprincess7, @m00njinnie, @get-that-brain-working, @whipwhoops

➢ EXTRA 01

➢ Main Story

➢ Spin - Off | Dark Moon || PJM

She really didn't want to ignore what Jungkook told her.

But she was alone in that new house, it was so dark, and the storm outside was terrifying her as it had not in a long time.

Something strange vibrated in the air that evening, something that moved under her skin like a snake and caused long chills of frost.

She clutched tightly with her other hand the gold ring that proved their marriage had taken place, it had been strange to see all those unfamiliar faces taking part in the ceremony, it had seemed to her more like a business meeting than actual nuptials, but the most important thing was being together, Jungkook had clutched at her all the time to make her understand.

Now she needed him, who was in the basement working on something, he had not told her exactly what he was working on, he had simply made her promise that she would not go down there for any reason in the world, with or without him.

Deglutinating slightly in front of the door in question, it was tall and dark, imposing and terribly menacing, she was about to turn back to their bedroom when a thunderclap far louder than the previous ones made her jump on the spot with a squeak, she grabbed the handle pulling it toward her and cast a glance at the dimly lit stairs that were supposed to lead downward.

With a sigh she took her first steps, barefoot and with only a thin nightgown to protect her from the drafts of that place, the further she went the more she could hear strange noises expanding throughout the flight of stairs, she squinted wondering what the hell her husband was up to.

"Jungkook?" she whispered with her arms wrapped around her own body in a vain attempt to protect herself from anything that might harm her.

Another painful noise to her strained ears left her speechless, maybe... maybe Jungkook had hurt himself?

She hastened her steps with anxiety painfully gripping her chest, flung open the small door that separated her from the smaller room, and what she saw left her breathless.

There was blood, so much blood, everywhere.

On the work table were scattered numerous weapons, all of them ominous-looking, but even more grotesque was the lifeless form of a man slumped badly in a chair, his feet were bound by a chain and his arms behind his back had received the same treatment, his dark hair and skin were premeared with red, viscous liquid, his swollen, ashen face confirmed what the girl was thinking. He was dead.

A high-pitched, shrill scream left her throat, she brought her trailing hands to her pale lips and began to take small steps backward, her breath coming less and less.

Who was he? No. Why was he there? What the hell had happened in there?!

She turned like lightning to run away from that horrific sight, but blocking her escape she found her husband himself, staring at her with a stern, icy, frightening expression. His imposing shoulders covered the door, preventing her from running away like a terrified mouse.

Y/N sobbed harshly at the sight of his bloodstained clothes; she could not believe it, he... he...

"You promised you'd never come down here," he said reproachfully, furrowing his brow and wondering why she had preferred to leave the warmth of their bed to go down into that hellhole.

Y/N shook her head, "N-No... I-I just wanted to... Please, let me out" she cried with less and less breath, trying to get as far away from him as possible, but in doing so she collided with the table. She was stuck.

Jungkook approached her slowly, holding a threadbare dishcloth in his hands, "Aish...look at your lovely little feet," he huffed, Y/N cast a glance at her bare feet, they were completely soiled, "You shouldn't have seen any of this," he continued with a twinge of displeasure in his gaze.

When he reached her Y/N found herself stiffening, afraid of a possible violent reaction, but nothing of what she feared happened.

Jungkook hugged her to himself, cradling her against his strong chest as if before his eyes he did not have a girl in the throes of a nervous cry, but only a puppy to comfort.

"You didn't have to find out like this, although I'm actually relieved...it's a part of me that I couldn't keep secret forever, I was tired of lying to you in fact," he murmured into her hair, leaving a tender kiss that didn't match the surroundings and situation.

"What does it all mean, Jungkook? What is going on? What are you doing?" she sobbed shakily, terribly shattered by the aberrant sight of the man behind her lifeless.

Jungkook tenderly caressed her cheeks, his expression softened by a note of adoration. Y/N was beautiful even with fear written all over her face.

"That's what I am, my love," he admitted, "I didn't want to scare you, so I never told you anything, I knew it would be hard for you to understand."

A light bulb went off in the young woman's brain, Seokjin and the evenings he made Jungkook spend away from home.

"You kill people," she huffed, lacking strength.

"I don't kill people, I deal with those who deserve punishment," he emphasized harshly, "They are bad men, Y/N...I just clean up."

Y/N cast another glance at the body, but had to look away immediately to prevent herself from vomiting her dinner, she staggered into her husband's arms, close to fainting.

The nauseating smell in the tiny room was making her feel sick.

"Was he a bad person, too?" she whimpered, praying for an affirmative answer, something to help her accept such a truth.

Her heart was torn.

Her husband was a murderer, but the love she felt for him was so strong and suffocating that, even with such knowledge weighing on her small shoulders, she was unable to turn away from him.

Jungkook's dark irises sparkled brightly, understanding the meaning behind his wife's words.

"He was, he hurt a lot of girls before I managed to catch him, I'm sorry I brought him here," he said truly regretful, "Our house should not be infected by certain beings, but tonight I had to make a break from the rule of not bringing work home."

He spoke of killing as to a job, Y/N did not know how long it had been going on or who he was working with, she just wanted to go back and forget whatever she had seen or heard that night.

"I...I don't know who you are," she murmured with tears in her eyes, "I don't know who you are and I'm afraid," she cried harder hitting him in the chest, she didn't even know what she was saying.

She felt split in two, she was scared but also very, very angry.

Why had he not told her such a thing earlier? Why had he forced her to discover his secret in such a revolting way?!

Jungkook let her do it without moving a single muscle; he knew too that it was difficult for her to accept it, but he was also sure that she would.

She was his woman, she would never let him down.

"I'm still the same, Y/N," he whispered in her ear, leaving a small kiss on her temple.

"Jungkook, I have to-" I have to get out of here.

"I'll clean up everything of course! Honey, I'm sorry...I know you hate to see dirt everywhere," he made crucified and sorry, Y/N could not believe her ears, according to him that was what was making her sick to her stomach?, "Come here," he hummed as he brought his face closer to the girl's face, took her gently by the cheeks and pressed his lips to the girl's, heedless of the blood on his fingers that soiled the soft skin, Y/N groaned in disgust.

"Jungkook, what the hell!"

"Y/N" the boy's dark, predatory eyes caged her, his lost expression troubled her, "I need you now," he begged grabbing her by the hips, pushing her against the table he badly scanned away the objects and made her lie down on that hard surface, not giving her a chance to disentangle herself from his grip, so strong was he.

Y/N screamed breathlessly, frightened and confused.

The boy towered over her with his entire size, adoring the sight of his wife now sharing the same secret with him.

"What do you want to do here?!" she shrieked in a high-pitched voice, looking around as if mad.

Her legs were unceremoniously spread wide, she peered breathlessly at her husband's lost face.

There was something they both loved to do sometimes, sex without foreplay.

There was something arousing about entering her still tight and rigid because they were too aroused to give themselves time, it was exciting the way she got wet quickly after the first thrusts, and Y/N loved feeling him hard and mighty in her.

Reduced as he was like that, he could not venture to touch her too much; therefore, he found it was the right time to take advantage of that wild way of joining.

"You like raw sex, don't you, love?" he asked without really expecting an answer, Y/N squeaked looking at him like he was crazy, "Take my cock," he growled leaving her speechless.

He forcefully pushed his taut erection against her covered core and Y/N shuddered breathlessly, her brain shut down at her husband's subtle growl.

"Don't make me repeat myself, sweetheart," he licked his wife's lips, cupping her face in his bloody hands, ignoring how the viscous liquid uncomfortably smeared the woman's soft skin.

She moved like a robot, unzipping his pants and pulling out Jungkook's heavy cock, he practically purred against her mouth, kissing her again, "Look at me, my love, just me" he murmured to her teary eyes, moved his hips against her hand, his cock already stiff and throbbing, spurring her on.

"Jungkook..." she pulled up with her nose, tightening her lips indecisively on what to do, watching the door behind her husband, "Please don't make me do it here," she pleaded, causing him to freeze.

He frowned, he had never forced her to take him and she had never refused sexual intercourse with him, finally fully understanding her discomfort.

He kissed her forehead, sighing against her warm skin, before pulling away disgruntled.

If Y/N thought she was finally free, she had to think again, in front of her Jungkook began to strip off his soiled clothes, throwing them to the ground with a resounding slap! Soon his perfect, blood-stained body was completely naked, heedless of the confusion printed on his young wife's face.

He unceremoniously took her in his arms, Y/N dared not move to refuse the contact, aware that Jungkook could keep calm up to a certain point and then... there was that dark curiosity that made her wonder what he would do next.

They walked back up the stairs to the basement, Y/N took one last look at the lifeless body in the room and shuddered, that would be an image she would never forget, she let her forehead fall back on the boy's smoothly sculpted chest wearily, casting a glance at the hallway they were walking down she noticed that the boy's goal was to get to the shower room they had recently had installed in the new house.

They had moved into a new house after the wedding, she was so happy, she would be able to leave behind those first terrible memories she had of the four walls, too bad that now even those were filthy with a new and terrible event. She swallowed the nonexistent saliva, trying to chase away the stench of death that accompanied them both.

"Y/N," Jungkook began, holding her tenderly in his strong arms, he entered the shower with her before beginning to undress her, the woman shivered from the cold, she had almost forgotten about the storm howling outside, "I would never hurt you, you know that, yes?"

He bent down slightly so he could look into her eyes, but Y/N escaped his scrutinizing gaze.

"Look at me." he intimated firmly, he took her chin between two fingers, forcing her again to point her irises into his dark ones, when they bonded once more Jungkook threw himself on her lips, claiming them with possession and desire, the grip he maintained on her face was soft, however, as if he wanted her to know that she was safe with him and she had to give in to that passion, she returned that contact with desperation, trying to bury in the meanders in her mind what she had discovered that night.

Jungkook groaned smugly, grasping her thighs securely to allow her to bind her legs to his hips, her back stuck to the glass of the cabin, soon after she felt the jet of water hit them and she screamed in surprise, widening her eyes.

At their feet the water began to run crimson, as bewitched she ran her hands over her husband's chest, rubbing away those terrible stains, the signature of the sin committed by the man a few meters away. She did not want to look him in the eye, not at that moment as she passed to clean the arms that held her.

"Y/N-."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed in a broken voice, shedding more tears that mingled with the still flowing water.

Jungkook's wet hair stuck to his forehead and the tips touched his wide-open eyes. He looked like a little fawn caught by surprise.

He should not have had such an innocent look, even his red lips should not have been so sweet and tantalizing.

"You've been lying to me all this time, and just like that you bring a dead body into my house," she hissed, driving her nails into the boy's forearms, "You're a fucking crazy bastard," she continued snarling, exploding for the first time that way.

The boy watched her for a few moments without saying a word, before a grin spread across his otherwise angelic face.

"You may well be right, my sweetest wife," he laughed softly, "But to take you away with me and save you from that miserable life of yours I certainly could not be normal, those who love cannot afford to be normal," the tips of their noses touched as he blew those words at her and entered her with a slow thrust, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as her unready pussy recognized the cock of the man she loves, Jungkook sadistically pushed deeper, enjoying the relaxed progress, he knew that she was experiencing a burning sensation that she secretly adored.

"Those who love cannot be normal," she repeated as she clutched at his chest, that phrase continued countless times in her mind as Jungkook underscored that thought by shaking her body repeatedly with direct and precise strokes, feverishly kissing her lost face.

She rested her head against the glass of the shower, letting the jet of water cloud her vision as her walls moistened around the man's increasingly tense cock, beginning to flicker more and more intoxicated by that forbidden pleasure, accompanying Jungkook's gradually more frequent and devouring moans.

"I fucking love you! You're perfect," he said through clenched teeth in her ear, growling at yet another squeeze of her abused and needy core, "Y/N, without you everything I do would be meaningless," he confessed, kissing her full cheek before brushing her face with his forehead, hiding his expression from her.

But his tears Y/N felt anyway, and it was the first time she could feel him so vulnerable.

Perhaps that night had not been upsetting only for her.

"J-Jungkook," she stammered, stopping short when the thick tip of his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot, her thighs glistening with water trembled as she increased her grip on his sculpted body, "I believe you, but no more secrets or-... work at home," she begged him with a knot in her throat, accepting without more strength what he was.

Those who love cannot be normal.

The boy nodded instantly, leaving small kisses on her chest, taking a sensitive nipple in his mouth, then going up her tender throat to her lips.

"Do you love me?" he rotated his hips expertly, making light contact with the young woman's swollen, tense clitoris, which at that point trembled uncontrollably.

"Mpf! -Kook!"

"Tell me, fuck! Tell me again, like you always do every day and every night; when I hold you, when I look at you, when I fuck you so good you lose your mind," he ordered in a raw voice, ready to make his cock explode inside her womb, wanting to offer her a little life that was already ready to grow with her.

He slammed into her several times violently, the glass shuddered furiously, and Y/N's eyes automatically closed at the powerful orgasm that shook her to her bowels, followed by the boy's copious jets of cum that filled her completely.

"I love you," she whimpered against his neck, trying to block her husband's last thrusts by clutching her walls, making them both gasp, "It's impossible for me to imagine a life without you, I could never leave you," she sobbed, completely exhausted and overcome by that all-consuming awareness.

"That is exactly the effect you have on me, my love... see? Together we are our everything, we don't need anything else."

The water was now flowing clear and clear, every trace of what had taken place in the basement had been buried.

Jungkook shut off the shower spray, got the girl down from his arms and immediately covered her with a large clean towel, helped her gently, kissing every visible patch of skin from time to time as he finished drying it thoroughly, it was a ritual now and there was no trace in him of the crazy man he had been almost an hour before.

In the bedroom he helped her brush out her damp hair, the next day it would be an unwatchable tangle of strands, but she really didn't have the strength or patience to even think of drying it with a hair dryer, she just wanted to sleep for hours on end. Jungkook on the other hand brushed the damp locks with joy, he loved their softness and shine, his little woman was gorgeous in every way.

"Let's go to bed, honey," he crooned, "You're about to collapse," he chuckled, snapping a noisy kiss on her forehead, missing the effect it had on the girl, who watched him with a lighter heart and a blank mind.

She fell asleep wrapped in her husband's arms, her head buried in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, lost in that sweet and inviting body heat, inhaling Jungkook's delicious scent.

He waited patiently for her to fall into Morpheus's arms before moving slowly, untangling their bodies from the firm grip that Y/N unconsciously tried to maintain, he sighed discontentedly.

He did not like the idea of parting with his beloved, but there was a filthy worm that had to be disposed of as soon as possible before it plagued their beautiful home with its stench.

The next day Y/N lazily opened her eyes, the sun's rays had long since penetrated the room, and stretched herself thoroughly before getting up and putting her feet on the floor.

She looked around for her husband, but he was not there.

In return she sensed voices whispering in the living room, frowned remembering that they were expecting no one that day, put on her Stitch slippers, a gift from Jungkook to tease her because of her endless love for the little being, and clasping her arms to her chest went to "investigate" the mysterious guest.

A dark-haired head and a blond-haired head turned in her direction when she gave evidence of her presence, her eyes widened.

Jungkook and Kim Seokjin both looked at her with a smile.

Suddenly memories of the night before flooded her mercilessly, causing her to gasp for breath.

She had accepted that she had to share Jungkook with that life, but the images of what she had seen still remained horrifying, and the smile they were both giving her sent shivers down her spine.

"You're awake!" exclaimed Jungkook cheerfully, leaving her interjected.

He was bursting with happiness for a reason still unknown to her.

"Jungkook, what..."

"Y/N."

Seokjin's quiet voice stopped her, she shifted her gaze to the man in silence, he had always given her the impression that he knew more than he wanted to reveal, her ex-principal had always been a mystery to her and now she had concrete certainty.

"Welcome officially to the family, Mrs. Jeon."

Jungkook's eyes shone euphorically, thus expressing his pride, Y/N instead observing Seokjin's angelic features understood that the devil had a face and a name.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | explicit | 1.1k | tags: established relationship, sub!eddie, top!eddie, dom!steve, bottom!steve, porn with feelings, Good Boy Eddie | @steddielovemonth Love is liking the version of yourself you are with them the best by @tinytalkingtina | AO3)

Eddie has been called many things in his life. Some good, more bad.

He's been called a good friend, a herder of lost sheep, a dungeon master, a rock star, even a hero.

But he's also been called a pariah, a coward, a waste of space, a fuckup, trailer trash, a freak, a murderer, a monster.

But no one had ever called him a good boy. Not until Steve.

Ever since he was a little kid, Eddie had learned to fit in, to become whatever someone needed him to be.

When his ma got sick, he learned to be her sweet little boy, quiet and uncomplicated instead of loud and wild. To take up as little space as possible, one less thing for his mama to worry about.

After she died, Eddie learned to be self-reliant. An adult in a child's body, able to take care of himself because who else would. Whenever his father was around, he adopted the Munson charm, the easy smile and empty flattery. He learned how to hot-wire cars, pick locks, steal, lie.

In the process, he learned to hate himself and even more the path his father was trying to set him on.

It wasn't until he started living with his Uncle Wayne that he didn't know who to be, because his uncle never asked him to do anything but be himself. Which should have been a relief, but by then Eddie had almost forgotten who that was.

So he began to reinvent himself in ways that made sense to him.

A storyteller, like Tolkien, spinning tales through his campaigns and having his party hanging on his every word.

A rock star, like Osbourne, van Halen, or Hammett, who played his heart out and made himself heard through his music.

A rebel, like Bowie, who stood up for those who, like him, were on the fringes of society, being their shield and offering them a safe place and a community where they could be their wonderfully weird selves.

Those versions of him were all Eddie, but at the same time they weren't. Not all of him.

Not the soft parts, the sweet and sincere and quiet parts he thought he lost when his mom died. Being all that for her hadn't been enough, it hadn't saved her, so Eddie buried that part of himself with her and became someone else. Someone the world couldn't break so easily.

Until Steve.

Brave and reckless, kind and bitchy and oblivious, self-sacrificing and self-centered, vain and dorky Steve. An enigma if Eddie ever met one. One he couldn't get enough of, each layer a new but pleasant surprise.

With Steve, Eddie doesn't have to reinvent himself, doesn't have to be any of the stories or boxes or labels.

With Steve, Eddie can let go.

With Steve, Eddie can stop looking over his shoulder.

With Steve, Eddie can let down his guard and show his soft belly.

With Steve, Eddie can be a good boy, sweet and obedient and sincere.

"You're doing so good, baby, so good for me. Fucking me so well, so sweet, feeding me that thick cock of yours. Can feel it in my throat. All for me, my good boy treating me so well," Steve coos with his mouth right next to Eddie's ear. They've been at it for what seems like hours and Eddie is so far gone, trembling in Steve's arms as he keeps rocking his hips, the only thing on his mind is Steve. Being good for Steve.

He's already made Steve come down his throat, lapping up every single drop like the good boy he is, before opening Steve up with his fingers and tongue. He pulled another orgasm out of him as he kept stroking across his prostate while licking messily inside him where he had spread him open on his fingers.

Eddie thought they were done, but Steve had other plans as he gathered up his own cum to spread over Eddie's cock, intention clear. Eddie had hesitated, afraid to hurt Steve because it was too much. It was only when he told Eddie to fuck him with a smoldering look from under his lashes that he finally, carefully, pushed inside him.

He's been hard and aching ever since Steve pushed him to his knees and made him nuzzle the bulge in Steve's tight Levis.

He's been ready to come since Steve's cock hit the back of his throat, moaning so prettily as it fluttered around him.

He's been holding himself back from coming by the skin of his teeth since Steve started clinging to him, overstimulated and loving and everything Eddie could ever want, cooing the sweetest and filthiest praise as Eddie slid in and out of the hot, tight grip of his body.

"What do you want baby, tell me, I'll give you everything my sweet little thing, just tell me what you need." Steve's soothing voice washes over him and he realizes he's whimpering into the sweaty skin of Steve's neck.

"You," Eddie replies without hesitation. "Just you, wanna make you feel good, 's all I need, just you." He's babbling, too far gone to be anything close to coherent. Reduced to his soft, needy core. "Love you so much, wanna stay like this forever, never wanna leave you." Things he never thought he'd say out loud spill out of his mouth and he can feel Steve tighten around him, impossibly so and he's so close but he can't, not without -

"Eddie, baby, don't stop, 'm so close, I love you too," Steve pants before whimpering, "Oh God, you're making me come again, kiss me, please, baby, kiss me."

He can't really feel his body anymore, his mouth clumsily seeking Steve's, but he could never deny him anything. Especially not when he's begging him so sweetly.

They both come within seconds of each other, no more words needed. Steve, whose legs and arms are wrapped around Eddie so tightly that it's impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, is the first to spill between their bellies. The fluttering of his hole, the bucking of his hips and the rhythmic way he clenches around him makes Eddie follow suit.

It almost hurts in its intensity after holding back for so long and he can't help the pitiful whimpering or the overwhelming tears.

Cradling Eddie's head in his giant hands, Steve wipes away the tears and kisses the whines from Eddie's trembling mouth. More tears follow, his love and devotion and gratitude for being loved in this way running down his cheeks as salty droplets, and Steve kisses them away as well.

"You were perfect," he whispers between his kisses, "I love you so much."

When his face is clean, the tears finally stopped, Eddie sinks back down onto the man beneath him. The man who gave him back this side of himself, a side he missed and mourned without even knowing it. A version of himself he has learned to love, to like best, thanks to Steve Harrington and his unwavering love for Eddie.

[obriengf]

Long Live for the Dylan characters!!!

send me a taylor swift song and i'll give you a random dylan blurb ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

Long Live (Thomas' Version)

I said remember this moment In the back of my mind The time we stood with our shaking hands The crowds in stands went wild

Thomas could feel the heat from the bonfire - the flames wild and vivacious, licking at the skin of his cheeks as he sat among new and familiar faces. The Safe Haven was a lot of things, but it stood mostly as a reminder to Thomas about all he had gained and lost since he first stepped foot in the Glade. He glanced around as he took in the smiles and laughter of his friends, watching as they recalled tall tales before they settled into their somewhat contentment. It was a far cry from days ago when he awoke to crashing waves and a bullet wound in his torso, bittersweet cheers and thanks were delivered his way for taking down all that was WICKED.

I said remember this feeling I passed the pictures around Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines Wishing for right now

He could feel your hands weave around his arm before you settled comfortably into his side, breaking the boy from his continuous run of thoughts. You both had talked about this moment only a few months ago in the Scorch when finding the Safe Haven was an unbelievable construct - an impossible reach, a story told purely for reassurance rather than reality. But sitting here now proved it all wrong, in the most settling way possible. Thomas always promised that he would take down the evil in this world, and he did, with the help of his newfound family. It was endless torture from the moment his feet were swallowed in the sand of the Scorch - the constant running for your lives, fighting for survival, grieving for lost friends one by one. It was as if the ambivalence weaved through his mind and soul as he began searching for the faces that were no longer with you, among those of your friends. You always asked if he was okay, and he would always answer yes - after wishing for this safety for so long, Thomas had no other reason not to be.

Hold on to spinning around Confetti falls to the ground May these memories break our fall

It was simple in the Glade. Everybody and everything had their place, routine dictated each day, the sun would rise and it would set within clear expectations. It was a safety net for the time being and a place that, to an extent, advertised calmness. And yet, Thomas found the open wilderness of the Scorch to be unpredictable and somewhat exciting. It was where you all were tested exponentially and brought closer together. Danger creeping around every bend to counteract the hope for freedom. The search for Minho followed, and the other taken survivors - a turbulent spanner thrown into Thomas' plans. They were all filled with bad memories. And Thomas nearly gave up. Nearly. The camaraderie between lost teenagers gave him the good memories, however. Banding together to rule the world, a saving grace to soften the harshness that they each endured. It's what brought him closer to you than just cuddling into his arm - the lightness of pure love cracking through the cage that WICKED built to keep you all down. It was the friends that he made along the way - how each encounter resulted in a lifelong friendship and sense of family. It was the unforgotten memories of the people who were left behind - their deaths never in vain, but carved in stone as a reminder of who you all continued to live for.

Will you take a moment? Promise me this That you'll stand by me forever

Thomas found himself staring at the names often; inscribed on a large stone that stood proud and tall in the centre of camp. The flickers of the flames danced along his back now as his dark henley shirt absorbed the heat. He could still hear the laughter and chatter but it fell to softened white noise the more he stared at the carvings before him, and even more so as memories flooded back in with each name his finger dragged lazily across. His eyes burned from ash and a clenching chest - blinked away as you made your way to his side again. It was instant as his fingers entangled with yours before he brought joined hands to his lips, chapped skin pressing gently to your knuckles. And soon, his other side was occupied by Minho as his large hand clasped Thomas' shoulder, squeezing with reassurance. The light of the fire was blocked by Gally's tall frame next, followed by Brenda's arm over your shoulder and Aris' frame to the side. You all stood in silence, but eyes were focused in the same direction. Remembering the faces of the names; the memories.

And bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid Long live all the mountains we moved I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you

Thomas had lost a lot, including a part of himself along the journey to rightful freedom. And it would continue to eat at him for days, months, years after it was all over. But he also gained a lot, too. His surroundings were composed of a new community - a new society that had the bones to flourish, with new members joining as they were saved from a burning world. It was composed of a new lifestyle - building something to be proud of, an opportunity to continue using heart and strength for good. It was also composed of people that had embedded themselves to utterly deep in his life that there was no possible way he could be without them ever again. And long live them all.

One day, we will be remembered.

[nomie-11]

Chapter 6 - Echoing of Silent Screams

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Violet’s cry tears through her throat, echoing across the cliffs as she watches Aurelie plummet to her death, the moment stretching out in agonizing slow motion. Her body hits the cliff, and the air is forced out of her lungs in a wheezing shout. She’s collapsed in on herself, tumbling down the side of the mountain as Violet and her screams echo in Genevieve’s ears, melding with the pounding of her heart. 

“NO!” Violet’s voice cracks, the terror in it slicing through the stunned silence. She’s reaching out, straining towards where Aurelie had just been, but there’s nothing she can do now. It’s over. Aurelie is dead. 

Her body finally hits the rocks at the bottom of the Gauntlet with a sickening thud, the sound reverberating up the cliff side. For a moment, the world is deathly quiet. The wind has died, the rustling of the leaves halts and the world stops spinning. Even the distant calls of the dragons seem to have disappeared, as if earth itself is holding its breath in mourning. 

Genevieve’s heart feels as if it’s stopped beating, she hasn’t even made it up the ramp, she’s just collapsed in front of it, refusing to admit defeat. 

Her breath is caught in her throat as she reaches for the rope and makes her way down without ever reaching the top. The second failure she’s had in Basgiath in straight succession. First her fight with Xaden, now Gauntlet. What has gotten into me?

As she reaches the bottom, the rest of the squad is at the base as well. Only Rhiannon, Ridoc and Sawyer made it to the top. Violet, Tynan and Genevieve failed. Aurelie died. Genevieve can’t breath, she can’t talk, but she refuses to let the tears escape her eyes the way Rhiannon and Violet have. She cannot cry, she cannot cry, she cannot cry.

Professor Emetterio is beside them in an instant, his face a mask of grim professionalism, though his eyes betray the weight of what just happened. He stands beside Genevieve, his voice steady but cold. “You have to keep moving as a squad. Don’t let what just happened slow you down.”

Genevieve looks at him, disbelief and rage bubbling inside her. She won’t cry, but she will get angry. “She’s dead! Aurelie’s dead! How can you just-?”

“You should know better than anyone else! There’s nothing you can do for her now.” Emeterrio’s voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “If you don’t finish, her death will be in vain. Do you understand? Get up, and tomorrow, you finish the course like the three who did in your group will do before you.”

“Genevieve, come on,” Rhiannon whispered, tugging on her arm. “It’s the next squad’s turn. We have to go.” 

The words barely register. Genevieve’s hands tremble, her fingers digging into her training pants. A scream builds in her throat, but she swallows it down, forcing herself to take a step and another. She looks back at the spot where Aurelie fell, her heart heavy with guilt. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to her, not like this. 

But the Gauntlet doesn’t care. The world doesn’t care. And the voice in her head, now silent, offers her no comfort. 

Genevieve's legs feel like lead as she forces herself to walk away from the Gauntlet, each step heavy with the weight of Aurelie’s death. The squad moves in a somber silence, the excitement that once filled the air now suffocated by the grim reality of their world. Every breath feels like it’s burning her lungs, her heart pounding in her ears as the image of Aurelie’s fall replays over and over in her mind.

Violet is crying quietly, her shoulders shaking with each sob, while Ridoc walks beside her, his face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. Rhiannon, usually the calm voice of reason, looks just as shaken, her eyes red-rimmed as she holds onto Genevieve’s arm, guiding her through the motions.

Genevieve wants to scream, to punch something, anything, to make the pain go away. But she doesn’t. She keeps walking, keeps swallowing down the rage and guilt that threaten to consume her. 

She can’t let herself break. Not here. Not now.

What the hell is wrong with me? How could I let this happen? She was right there, and I couldn’t save her.

A part of her knows that she couldn’t have done anything, that it was just bad luck, but another part of her, the part that refuses to let go of control, blames herself entirely. She failed. Again. And this time, it cost a life.

She’s not even sure how long she stands there, frozen, before she feels a hand on her shoulder. It’s Rhiannon, her eyes filled with a compassion that only makes the guilt worse.

“Genevieve,” Rhiannon says softly, “it’s not your fault.”

But Genevieve can’t find it in herself to believe her.

Shoving past Rhiannon, her world collapses inward. She’s stuck in the middle of a swirling vortex of emotions she can barely understand. Rhiannon’s words bare;y register as she stares at the floor as she runs down the stone hallway, her vision blurring at the edges. She can’t breathe, the air in the room is too thick, too suffocating. The steady rhythm of her pulse begins to pound in her ears, mocking her. The harder it pounds the heavier her breaths, each reminding her that she is alive and Aurelie is dead. 

Her feet move solely on instinct, dragging her up the winding stairwell and into the darkness. It’s dark and cold without the use of mage lights, but she can’t bother to think. There’s one place she can find solace, there’s one place that’s as familiar to her as her mind is. Her feet know where the steps are as she clambers up, higher and higher, until she slams the door to the roof of the dorm hall open. 

She’s not alone when the door opens, the all-to-familiar silhouette of Xaden greets her on the edge of the roof, and her breath catches. Her chest heaves with the effort of scaling the stairs so quickly after running away in a panic, her eyes are glossy with tears, and as he turns around, all he sees is her. 

For a split second, Genevieve hesitates, her body screaming for her to turn around and run right back down the staircase and into Rhiannon’s open arms. She doesn’t want to face him, not like this, not after everything that’s happened, not when she’s this raw and exposed. But being alone sounds worse. 

“Genevieve,” Xaden crosses the roof, his voice is low and steady, but there’s an edge of concern in it that she’s not used to hearing. “What happened?”

She doesn’t answer, she can’t answer. The words are trapped in her throat, tangled with the screams that threaten to let loose and matted with the sobs that she’s been holding back. Instead, she stumbles backwards, her back hitting the wall as her legs buckle beneath her. She clutches her head in her hands, her hand tightly clamped over her mouth. 

She lets out a scream, muffled by her own hand as she tightly clenches her hair, her body tense. Sobs follow the scream, and once the first choked sob escapes her lips, she can’t stop. The tears she’s been holding back for years spill over, and she gasps for air as the sobs wrack her body. 

Xaden doesn’t say anything, but she feels him kneel beside her, his presence solid and grounding. for a moment, she’s still and he doesn’t move away, the only sound is the ragged gasps of her breath and the distant roar of a storm long off. 

Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Xaden reaches out and pulls her into his arms. And for a moment, she relaxes into him, his warmth of his embrace surrounding her.

But then she shoves him off of her. 

“No! No, no, no-!” She gasps, getting up and moving away from him. “You do not get to pull me into your arms as if you care for me! I’m a failure, I’m awful, I can’t- I can’t!” Her breath catches in her throat and her legs crash down into the tiles of the roof once more. He moves to get close to her once more, but she shakes her head no frantically, her eyes terrified. “You don’t understand, get away from me!” She yelled, her hands shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself. 

Xaden freezes, his expression shifting from concern to something more guarded, though he doesn’t retreat. His dark eyes swim around Genevieve, taking in every detail of her slow unraveling. For a long moment, he says nothing, just watching her as if weighing his words. 

“You think I don’t understand?” he finally asks, his voice low and laced with intensity. “You’re not the only person who’s lost people.” 

Genevieve shakes her head, vision blurring with tears that she's relented to hold back once more. “No,” she chokes out, her voice trembling. “You don’t get it, you don’t-” her voice catches in her throat, and her hands snake into her hair once more. “I’ve never failed, I never fail, and then I fight you once and I lose! And then I fail to make it up the Gauntlet. And then she dies, right in front of my eyes and it hurts!”

Xaden inches forward, slowly but surely. He���s getting closer and closer to her, but she doesn’t even look at him. 

“When Quinn died, I didn’t even cry, I just got up and pushed through it. When my mother left, I did what I needed to survive! But this! It replays in my head over and over again every time I blink and it’s your fault!” 

Genevieve’s accusation hangs in the air between them, sharp and jagged and crackling like a downed electrical wir5e. She doesn’t know if it's fair or even true, but right now, she doesn’t care. Everything feels like it’s crashing down on her, and she needs someone to blame. 

Xaden’s expression hardens at her words, his eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he stays right where she can feel him, feel the tension radiating off of him. “My fault?” His voice is dangerous. “You think this is my fault?” 

“Yes!” she screams, her voice tearing through her chest like a wild animal. “If you hadn’t- if we hadn’t-” Her voice cracks, and she shakes her head, her thoughts barely clearing with each word she spits out. “It’s your fault because you started talking to me, you made me weak, and now-”

“Now what?” he cuts her off, his voice harsh. “Now you’re human? Now you feel something? This isn’t about me, Genevieve. No, this is about you. And now you’re pining it on me because you can’t handle what’s going on inside you.” 

“Shut up, just shut up-” Her voice is awfully panicked, ragged and shocking. “You don’t know what it’s like, Xaden, you don’t know what it's like to be alone. You have your cousins and friends who are so close they’re basically brothers waiting for you, but I’m alone! I can’t feel anything because then I feel alone. Everytime I look at you it’s a constant reminder of every single failure in my life! How could I fail!? You don’t know how much I hate myself right now!”

Her sobs finally broke free once more, they were loud and desperate, and Xaden nearly flinched at how guttural they sounded. It’s raw and destructive, and Xaden’s jaw tightens at each desperate breath that passes by her lips. Her hands tremble as she claws at her chest, her skin raw and red underneath her thin training shirt. 

And then, in the midst of the mess in her head, she feels it again—that steady presence beside her. Xaden doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t try to move her, or pull her into his arms this time, he simply stays close, sitting next to her the same way she’s already used to. His warmth grounding her the same way it did on those mornings they sat together.

Genevieve’s breathing is still erratic, her chest is still rising and falling with each gasping sob. Her heart feels like it's being squeezed in a vise, the pain radiating outwards, making her limbs heavy and her thoughts sluggish. She’s drowning in it all, the guilt, the anger, the self-loathing—it’s suffocating her. But Xaden’s presence beside her, steady and unyielding, is like a lifeline she didn’t know she needed. 

And for a long moment, they don’t speak, just wait and listen to her breathing even as the storm in the distance rumbles softly. The night is thick and oppressive, the darkness around them is heavy and close in, but there’s a strange comfort to the shadows that surround them. 

Her body is slumped against the rough stones of the rooftop wall, and the cold air nips at her tear-streaked face, but she doesn’t try to move, doesn’t try to warm herself. The numbness of the cold is a foreign relief. 

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispers, her voice barely audible before being carried away by the wind. It’s a confession, one she’s denied and never allowed herself to voice, not even to her own reflection. The girl who was never afraid of a challenge, who always knew she wanted to charge into battle, is failing. 

Xaden shifts slightly, just enough that she can see him out of the corner of her eye. His expression is unreadable, a mask of calm that doesn;t betray the storm brewing in his own mind. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and measured, careful, as if each word would make or break her. 

“You’re more than who everyone else wants you to be, Genevieve. You’re allowed to fall apart.” 

She wants to reject his words, to push him away, and reshape her mask into the image of a perfect soldier who obeys every order without a second thought, but she’s too tired to fight anymore. His words are truthful, and she lets them sink in, lets herself feel the weight of her own humanity. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” She admits, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I want to do that.” 

Xaden doesn’t offer any solutions, doesn’t tell her that it will get easier, instead, he leans back, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the first hints of dawn are beginning to streak the sky of their sleepless night. 

“You’re not a machine, Genevieve. You’re not meant to keep going without feeling anything. No one is, not even you.” 

Genevieve flinches at his words, the contradiction between him and Violet not too long ago cutting her deeper than she wants to admit. For so long, she’s buried her emotions, convinced herself that they were weaknesses she couldn’t afford. But now, she sits on this rooftop, raw and exposed in front of Xaden, and she realizes just how wrong she’s been. The walls she built around herself are crumbling, and she doesn’t know if anything will be left once they’re gone. 

“I can’t- I don’t know,” Her words struggle to escape from her mouth. “I don’t know how to just… be.” 

Xaden finally turns to face her, his eyes searching hers, and for the first time she sees a clear emotion hidden in his gaze. It’s new and something she hasn’t seen before. It’s not pity, not judgment, but a deep and quiet understanding. 

“You learn,” he says simply. “You do what you can and take it one moment at a time, and you let yourself feel everything, even when it hurts like hell, because that's the only way you’ll ever know who you are.” 

His words hang in the air between them, heavy and lingering with the weight of the truth they carry. Genevieve doesn’t want to accept them, doesn’t want to admit that she's been wrong all this time. But deep down, she knows she can’t continue the way she’s been going. 

The first rays of sunlight break over the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the rooftop. It’s a new day, a fresh star, but Genevieve feels anything but renewed. She feels raw, her emotions scraped down to the bone, and yet, she feels lighter.

She turns to look at Xaden like he looked at her, her eyes red and swollen from the tears, her face streaked with the evidence of her breakdown. But she doesn’t care about appearances right now. All she cares about is the truth in his eyes and the strange, fragile connection that’s between them. 

“How do you do it?” she asks, and Xaden is taken aback because her voice is soft, almost childlike. “How do you keep going, even when you know everything is falling apart?” 

Xaden can’t respond for a moment, his mind weighing his options on how much to reveal. Then he shrugs, the movement small and almost imperceptible. “I don’t know. Some days, I just put one foot in front of the other and move, and other days, I find something–anything–to hold on to. Even if it’s just a single thought that gets me through the day.” 

He can tell that Genevieve feels small, trying to find some sense and solace in his words, some piece of advice she can cling to, but all she feels is fear of the unknown. The terror of facing herself without the armor she’s so carefully constructed over the years is making her feel like a child again. 

“Am I strong enough?” 

Xaden’s gaze softens, and for a moment, she thinks she sees a flicker of pride in his gold-speckled eyes. “You’re stronger than you think, Genevieve. You’ve been through more than most people can imagine, and you’re still here. That’s what strength is. And if you aren’t, you’ve got people who care about you. You’ve got Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Violet… and you’ve got me.” 

The last part of his statement lingers in the air, and Genevieve feels something inside of her shift. She looks into his eyes, and for the first time, she sees something she hadn’t noticed before—a flicker of vulnerability, a hint of something deeper. With each passing moment she’s coming to realize that maybe…

Maybe she can learn to be human. 

The thought is paralyzing, but for the first time, the paralyzing fear barely scares her. It feels like a challenge, one that she has no idea how to face, but she knows she needs to try, because the alternative is running. To keep hiding, and to be afraid. And she’s tired. 

“Why do you care?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Xaden doesn’t answer immediately. He just sits there next to her, leaving the space between them empty and waiting. “Because you’re worth caring about,” he finally says. 

For a moment, she’s stunned into silence. She doesn’t know what to say, how to respond to the raw honesty in his voice. She just nods, and the world outside the roof fades away. For the first time since the fall, the tightness in her chest loosens. 

Whipping the tears from her face, her eyes are rimmed with red, and she holds his eyes for a moment longer. She stares, her gaze hopeful, searching for his or some sign that she’s not alone in this, that he’s human too. And then he meets her gaze head on, his expression steady and unwavering, she feels a flicker of hope. 

“I’m going to try,” She says, her words strong for the first time since Aurelie fell from the Gauntlet. “I don’t know what I’m doing or if I can, but I’ll try.”

Xaden nods, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of his lips. “That’s all I can ask.” 

And then they sit in silence as the sun rises above the trees, the light washing over them, a new day beginning. Against the stone wall, Xaden and Genevieve sit with a space between them, and then her hand moves to the center of the space. Xaden’s gaze flickers downwards. And then her hand is in his. 

—————————————————————-

The buoys are Tynan’s downfall, the chimney is Violet’s Achilles heel, and the ramp is Genevieve’s worst enemy. Before the tenth session-and the last session- Ridoc, Sawyer, Genevieve, Rhiannon and Violet all sat in a circle. 

“We need to figure out a way to get Violet up the chimney and Genevieve up the ramp,” Rhiannon said, laying out the purpose for their impromptu meeting. “All of us are making it to Presentation tomorrow, so we need to get this done.”

Genevieve zones out for a moment, the weight of the ramp crushing her. If she fails, her squad’s time ranking is tanked, then they’re last in presentation. Which she won’t even get to go to if she fails. No presentation, no threshing, no dragon, no sky, no stars.

“Pay attention.” The voice booms. 

So you’re back, she thinks to herself, no longer startled by the huge presence in her mind. 

“I never left,” It responded, and her eyes widened. 

Can you hear my thoughts? 

“Unfortunately.” It grumbles, and she stifles a snort at it’s deadpanned response. 

Why didn’t you say anything that night?

Her thoughts drift back to how alone she felt, despite physically sitting right next to Xaden. To their hands meeting in the middle-

“You needed him, not me.” 

Oh. Genevieve’s cheeks are red. 

“Maybe you can climb up onto my shoulders and then…” Rhiannon pauses her ‘save violet’ tirade, and puts her attention onto Genevieve. “Why are you blushing?”

“No reason!” She immediately says, her flushed face immediately getting darker. “Let’s go back to the issue at hand- Violet! You can’t touch a squadmate during Gauntlet, let alone help them, so she needs to do it alone with her own devices.”

Rhiannon passes her a glance, as if to say ‘sure, no reason, definitely,’ but Genevieve waves it off, not passing her a second glance. 

“So you read the codex about the Gauntlet?” Ridoc asks, a part of him genuinely surprised. “What else does it say? Any loopholes?”

“I’m not smart enough to find loopholes, believe me,” Genevieve waved him off, before eyeing Violet, who definitely is smart enough. “It said that only a cadet and stuff that is considered them or on their person when they crossed the parapet can scale the Gauntlet. I’m not sure what that’s insinuating, but it might be able to help us.” 

Violet’s face flashes with an idea, and she immediately pushes herself to a stand. 

“I’ve got it!” She said, her voice finally happy and full of hope. “I’ll be back!” And she turned to run towards the dorm hall, leaving the four of them still sitting in a circle, planning for Genevieve’s ascent. 

“Well, she’s got it, so now let’s focus on you,” Sawyer says, turning his attention

“So, you and the ramp,” Ridoc starts, turning his attention to her. “You’ve got the speed, and the stamina, but every time you do it, it’s like you hit an invisible wall halfway up. What’s going on?”

Genevieve bites her lip, the memory of her last attempt fresh in her mind. The ramp is deceptively simple—a steep incline that requires both speed and precision. But every time she’s tried, her legs give out just before the peak, her muscles locking up as if resisting the very idea of reaching the top. 

“It’s not just the ramp,” She admits, hating the vulnerability in her voice that she tries to fight back. “It’s like… everything stops working when I get close. My body, my mind. It can’t be fear, I’m not afraid, it’s something else…”

The presence in her mind stirs again, a warm, steady pressure that isn’t quite comfort but something close. “It’s not fear,” it rumbles, more thoughtful this time. “It’s doubt. You’re holding onto your loss against Xaden and your failure in protecting Aurelie. The ramp is a reflection of that. You think you don’t deserve to make it to the top.” 

Her breath catches, once more, the truth in a stranger's words stabbing her in the gut. She’s been so focused on the physical obstacle that she hasn’t even looked at the mental one. 

“What? What happened?” Ridoc asks, concern and curiosity etched into his features. “Why’d your breath catch?”

Genevieve hesitates, the words tangled in her throat. She knows what Ridoc is asking, and she knows the answer, but saying it aloud feels like admitting defeat.

“I’m… not sure,” she finally says, her voice tight. It’s a lie, of course, and Ridoc knows it. He gives her a look that says he isn’t buying it, but he doesn’t push further. Not yet. 

Rhiannon, however, isn’t patient. “Genevieve, this is serious. If something’s messing with your head we need to know. We can’t afford having you freeze up tomorrow.” Her tone is firm, but there’s an undercurrent of worry that softens the edge. 

Genevieve meets Rhiannon’s gaze, her usual confidence faltering under the weight of the lingering self-doubt. “It’s just… I’ve been messing up a lot lately,” she confesses, her voice low as if whispering will cause her friends to miss it. “Aurelie’s death, losing to Xaden,” the voice in my head… “I feel like I’m dragging all of you down with me.” 

Silence falls over the group, heavy and uncomfortable. Genevieve stares at the ground, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. 

But then, to her surprise, Ridoc laughs—a quiet, almost incredulous sound. “Genevieve, you’re not dragging us down,” he says, shaking his head. “If anything, you’re the reason we’ve all made it this far. We all doubt ourselves, but that doesn’t mean we’re done for.” 

Sawyer nods in agreement. “He’s right. Look, we’ve all had our setbacks. But we’ve also seen what you can do when you’re on your game. We believe in you, even if you’re struggling to believe in yourself right now.” 

Rhiannon places a hand on Genevieve’s arm, squeezing it gently. “You’ve carried us through so much, let us carry you.” 

Genevieve feels a lump forming in her throat, the unexpected support from her squadmates overwhelming her. Tears well up in her eyes, her hands are trembling, her shoulders start to shake with silent tears. 

“Woah! Don’t cry!” Ridoc says, worried, waving his hands trying to get her to stop. “We’re just here for you! Is that so shocking?”

They don’t see her as a failure, as a burden—they see her as someone worth fighting for. Someone to believe in.

“Listen to them,” the voice in her head says. “I chose you because you’re strong and kind. I trust you, now trust yourself.” 

Genevieve takes a deep breath, ushering the tears from her eyes, and clearing her cheeks of the now familiar red streaks. “Alright,” she says, looking up at them. “I’m getting the quickest time on the stupid Gauntlet. Let’s figure this out.” 

Sawyer grins, his eyes lighting up. “There she is!” His voice is loud and welcoming. 

Rhiannon smiles, and the tension breaks as she pulls Genevieve into a quick, fierce hug. “That’s the spirit!”

Ridco nods, his own face one of happiness. “Alright, so it’s a mental block, here’s what we’re going to do…” he begins, launching into a strategy to tackle the ramp. One that not only capitalizes on Genevieve’s superior physical abilities, but strengthens her inferior mental abilities. 

As they plan, the hope reignites in Geneveive’s chest—a reminder that she’s not alone in this, that she has people who will fight alongside her, and with them, she can overcome the doubts that have been holding her back. 

————————————————————

Genevieve took a deep breath, Ascent #4 was easily passed as she flew up the staircase of rolling logs.  She propped herself in the chimney and quickly made the climb, her time getting longer with each passing second but still miles ahead the slowest. All that was left was the vertical ramp, and the sprint up to it. She could do this. 

Exiting the Chimney, the ramp towered over her at the end of the short runway. Sweat trickled down her temples, and she spared a quick glance down to where Violet was starting her ascent. The sun was high and mighty over the course, but she paid it no attention, not allowing her eyes to squint from the glare of the blazing rays reflecting off of the shiny and frictionless surface of the ramp. 

It feels like she’s been standing in front of the wall for hours, but in reality, it’s been less than 3 seconds. She focused her breathing, steadying the adrenaline coursing through her veins. One more push and then you’ve done it. Just one more. 

With a burst of energy, she launched herself forward, feet pounding against the ground as she sprinted towards the ramp. The weight of the past few weeks threatened to drag her down, the memory of Aurelie’s fall, her failures, her guilt—but she couldn’t let them win. Not now. Not yet. 

Her boots made a clashing noise as they hit the base of the ramp, and she dug her fingers into the grooves, pulling herself up with every ounce of strength she had left. The incline fought back, gravity and doubts pulling at her, but her resolve was stronger than the force of the earth. She could hear the distance cheers, the voice of her squad mates who had already made it up the Gauntlet. 

Halfway up, her muscles seized, screaming in protest, her breaths came in ragged gasps. Her vision blurred for a moment, and the thought she was dreading crept in—I don’t deserve to make it up this ramp. I can’t do this. 

“Ignore yourself,” The voice echoed in your mind. “You deserve this. Climb. Go.” 

She pushed herself aside, forcing herself to listen to the voice in her mind. She was fighting for herself, for her squads time that she’s undoubtedly dragging down the longer she lingers here. For her squad. For Aurelie. For herself. 

The top of the ramp made contact with the palm of her hand, and this time she gripped down on it. With one final, desperate effort, she hauled herself up and over the edge, only using the force of one arm, collapsing onto the flat surface. 

She laid there for a moment, chest heaving, the world spinning around her. 

She had done it. 

“You did it, my child,” The voice in her head had an air of pride.

Quickly, she pushed herself to a stand. Her eyes excitedly meet the eyes of Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Sawyer. In an instant, she’s running to them, jumping into their arms. 

“Yes!” She yells, her voice the happiest it’s been since she’s arrived at Basgiath. “We did it”

As they excited the hug, Rhiannon placed both of her hands on Genevieve’s shoulders, holding her tightly as she looked dead into Genevieve’s eyes. Her smile was so big it looked like it was out of place at this hell of a school. 

“No,” She corrected, glee audible in her words. “You did it.” 

———————————————

Hey guys! Last chapter for a little bit as I’m starting school tomorrow!! Exciting, right? (No, save me please)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave likes or comments letting me know your thoughts or if you liked the chapter. Thanks!

[vortexonsaturn]

The Mirror Metaphor Used In Tangled

Mirrors are an important narrative device all throughout the film, one of the first times we see a mirror on screen is when Rapunzel is a child.

We see a young Rapunzel sneaking out of her room to look at the floating lanterns, this specific mirror merely helps us understand how vain Gothel is. The mirror is reflecting back Rapunzel, and as the movie continues, a mirror reflecting Rapunzel represents a time where she is under Gothel's control.

During this scene we get our first introduction the The Mirror, the one that is primarily used for this metaphor. The Mirror shows the viewer the relationship between Gothel and Rapunzel. Here, Gothel says,

"Rapunzel, look in that mirror. You know what I see? I see a strong, confident, beautiful young lady. Oh, look, you’re here too!”

This scene is not only Gothel tearing down Rapunzel, but it gives us a direct connection between Gothel, The Mirror, and Gothel's desire to remain young forever. It shows us how Gothel views Rapunzel, how she views her only as a device to remain young, not as a daughter.

It shows us the control Gothel has over Rapunzel, as Rapunzel does not stand up for herself or even question this behavior.

In the Mother Knows Best scene The Mirror makes another appearance.

Gothel forces The Mirror in front of Rapunzel after describing all the reasons why Rapunzel can never leave the tower, after making Rapunzel feel naïve and dumb for believing she ever could survive in the real world.

The Mirror is used often to distort or only show fragments of the truth.

When Rapunzel begins to trap Flynn in the closet, The Mirror is facing away from her/the act.

The after she...secures him in...she accidentally knocks The Mirror towards her.

Following this, she finds the crown due to it's reflection in The Mirror, which she then goes to try on. She has a moment where she feels confident again, forgetting Gothel's doubts, even if it's just for a moment.

After Rapunzel has this moment, Gothel returns to the tower. This causes Rapunzel to fumble around knocking The Mirror as she hides the crown, causing The Mirror to spin around, now facing fully away from Rapunzel/the tower.

The moment is key, because this shows us Rapunzel now has a new goal. One that doesn't include Gothel's agreement. One that threatens Gothel's control.

After this, Rapunzel and Flynn escape the tower and we don't see The Mirror again until Gothel returns to find Rapunzel missing.

We see The Mirror for a brief moment, as Gothel hasn't yet realized she's lost control over Rapunzel.

When Gothel finishes inspecting the tower, The Mirror is gone.

This shows Gothel's loss of control, and the break in Gothel and Rapunzel's relationship.

In the end, after Gothel has manipulated Rapunzel back into her control, Rapunzel begins to have her realization/deja vu moment. When she realizes she is the lost princess, The Mirror reappears. Now showing a blurred reality outside of the frame.

In the final confrontation, Rapunzel rejects Gothel's attempts to touch her hair. Causing Gothel to stumble backwards, knocking over and shattering The Mirror.

Gothel and Rapunzel's relationship is broken. Gothel's control over Rapunzel is broken.

As we all know, Flynn then proceeds to use a piece of this shattered glass to cut off Rapunzel's hair. Gothel immediately begins to grow old, her death imminent.

Gothel desperately stares into the shattered remains of The Mirror, showing the shattered pieces of Gothel and Rapunzel's relationship as well as the control Gothel once had over Rapunzel.

I have more metaphors I'd love to talk about, another favorite of mine is the use of light throughout Tangled. So expect another unnecessarily long post soon!

[namii-88]

boboiboy galaxy au

pairing: reversed!elements x reader

TW: blood, injuries

(a/n: i tried my best to keep their personalities as close to canon as possible but struggled a bit, so apologies in advanced if they seem out of character!)

How.. how did things turn out this way?

It was supposed to be a simple mission, but why?

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I ran as fast as I could, trying to navigate where I am along the way. We haven't even stayed here for a day but it felt as if we've been here for months. Navigating a planet that's covered in trees made it impossible to know where I came from. Every time I pass an area, I can't help but feel like I've come across that area before. Finding my way back was almost impossible, but I don't have a choice.

I suddenly felt a vine wrap around my leg and it pulled me harshly until I fell. The impact wasn't that sudden so I was able to catch myself before I sustained any injuries on my face. I screamed in pain as I realized that there were thorns on the vines and they were digging into my flesh. I scrambled around in panic trying to tug my feet away from the vines that it was captured in, careful in trying not to drag the thorns further into my leg.

"I'm coming to get you," I heard a playful voice echoing from the trees, a surge of terror fills my entire body as I hastily removed the vines. I continued to run trying my best to ignore the pain in my leg, tears were building up in my eyes but I tried my best to push it away. Exhaustion was slowly filling up my body as the damage from the previous fight started to kick in. My running became more sluggish and I became less aware of my surroundings, bumping into trees and stumbling in every rock that I come across.

No.. Please just a bit more and I can get some help..

Just a bit more and I can save hi-

My thoughts were cut off when I slipped on ice that suddenly appeared from the ground. I tried to push myself up but was struggling to do so because the entire world seemed like it was spinning. My head was pounding and I felt a wet and warm liquid drip down the side of my face. I lifted a hand to touch it.

Blood..

I bit my lip and wiped the blood off as best as I could. With the little strength I have left, I lifted myself off the ground while trying to ignore the splitting headache I was having because of my injury. I was about to run again but was unable to, due to vines suddenly crawling up and encaging my entire body. My legs, arms, and waist were completely covered by vines.

I can't move

I tugged as hard as I could against the vines but my attempts were in vain. "Stop trying to escape," I quickly looked in front of me and saw Thorn pouting at me, "Don't you wanna be with us?" I hardened my gaze towards him and continued my struggle with trying to escape the vines. He starts to walk towards me with a smile—smirk and starts to giggle, "Stop doing that n/n, it's not gonna do anything silly."

"Daun," Ice suddenly appears behind Thorn and stares at him in annoyance, "Stop fooling around and bring her back to the ship, Solar is almost done preparing." I felt a chill run down my spine when I realized what he said.

The ship?

That was the only place I could send help, why would they want to go there?

Unless.. no...

Dread fills my entire body as I realize what they did, yet I couldn't help but feel a tiny speck of hope.

Thorn rolls his eyes and turns around to meet his 'brother'. "Boooo, you're no fun, I'm just having fun with capturing her," he whines. I felt the urge to roll my eyes but was afraid to do so when Ice's gaze met mine. "Oh please! You only want n/n's attention for yourself!", Blaze suddenly appears and accuses him in a snarky tone. He crosses his arms and shots Thorn an annoyed look, "Keeping her for yourself won't make her like you any more than she likes me." A smirk appears on Blaze's face as he sees Thorn's eyebrows furrow in anger. Ice sighs tiredly at Blaze's attempt to pick a fight and chose to watch silently, having no intentions of stopping his 'brothers'.

The vines that were wrapped around me started to get loose when Thorn faced Blaze in anger, but before he could come up with a comeback, a voice suddenly interrupts their little argument. "Daun, you were supposed to bring her back 20 minutes ago," Gempa suddenly appeared with a disapproving look on his face. I let out a whimper of pain as I felt the vines tighten around me because of Thorn's reaction with the sudden appearance of his brother.

Gempa suddenly meets my eyes and the previous look of disapproval was replaced with a look of worry. "Daun, you're hurting y/n," he says with an assertive voice. Thorn quickly looks at me, eyeing me up and down until his eyes widen as he finally spots my injury. I quickly felt the vines loosening up, he quickly rushed over to me and gently held my face. "N/n! I am so sorry, I was so busy with trying to get you, I didn't realize that I was hurting you." I almost felt bad with how he sounded, he actually sounds guilty.

With the sudden appearance of the four of them, I didn't realize that my wounds were getting worse by the second. Blood started pouring out of my forehead again and the pain in my leg was beginning to become more unbearable. Thorn was about to inspect my wounds but was unable to because of my hand suddenly grabbing his wrist.

"Stop," I tried to muster out the most confident voice I could do, but was struggling to do so with the tears welling up my eyes. Thorn looks at me in confusion—worry, "N/n?" I almost broke with how genuine he looked but was able to keep my composure, "Stop acting like you care about me."

Thorn looks at me in disbelief as I saw the other three having similar reactions. "W-what do you mean?", I let go of his hand as I tried to get out of the vines. With how much they loosened up, I was able to remove them easier than before. Gempa tries to make his way to me but with my new found freedom, I try to escape. I turned around and tried to sprint away from them, hearing them yell my name, but was frozen from my spot when I saw Thunderstorm already looking at us with his usual cold stare. His arms were crossed and his eyes were following my every move intently.

From the back, I felt arms wrap around my waist and a chin laid against my left shoulder— hugging me. A familiar tone fills my left ear, "Why do you want to run away so badly?", I tried to ignore the pounding in my chest when I realized how close Cyclone was next to me.

"Let me go," I shakily tried to remove his arms around me but was unable to, due to him tightening his hold around me even more, "Hmmm? But I don't want tooo," he whines as he snuggles into my shoulder even more.

"I wanna hug n/n too!!", I heard Thorn's voice get near us, followed by a remark by Blaze as well, "No fair I got here first!", Blaze and Thorn then tried to remove Cyclone who was persistently holding onto me while laughing and taunting the other two. I heard Gempa sigh as he commanded the three to let go of me, "Taufan, please let go of y/n. Api, Daun, can't you see that she's struggling because of your rowdiness?". And with that, Thorn pouted while stepping away from Cyclone, Blaze stepped away with a 'hmp' while crossing his arms, and Cyclone removed his hand from my waist with a dejected look.

Gempa sighs again then turns to look at me with a warm look and a gentle smile. He slowly makes his way to me and gently holds my cheek. I felt his warm hand and I subconsciously leaned against it, the exhaustion from my body, making it difficult to show rejection to such warmth.

"Are you okay n/n?"

I almost believed that he was still the boy I fell in love with, but wasn't able to fully sink into that delusion because of the constant reminder of who he really is. Those red eyes and white hair that every single one of them has. The kind, selfless, and warm hero that I fell in love with was gone–at least some of him was. All that's left are the elements that he used to control, free to be their own person. But they were much more twisted than they used to be, no matter how much they try to be who they were before, I could tell that something about them has changed—for the worst.

[manicpixiefelix]

Whatever you do, friend! Try not to think of Felix in-between Reader and Ollie - maybe on a couch or bed - alternating between making out with the siblings. Felix is breathless and a little dizzy.

vibes 😌💖 but also I have started thinking about this!! trapped in this little fantasy even though you warned me!! You've also reminded me of this absolutely delicious thought you sent the other day;

Reader and Ollie's elite friend group at Oxford now includes Felix, this beautiful boy radiating such glorious himbo energy, draping himself across the siblings at every opportunity and including himself in the groups conversations and plans. The dynamic between the three is so strange as the siblings seem to share Felix.

so since I'm here I'm gonna play in this space for a bit; just a warning it gets a bit suggestive and you all get a bit high --

Because Felix has spent so much of his life as an object of desire. If he admitted that out loud he knows it'd make him sound vain and self obsessed, but it is just true. This, however? The way both you and your brother look at him, touch him, want him? It makes his head spin.

Because Felix has spent so much of his life being wanted, he never stopped to think how fucking good it would feel to be wanted by someone he wants in return.

And there's two of you.

Everyone at Oxford knew the dynamic between the three of you had shifted after you and Oliver had spent the Summer with him at Saltburn. Sure, you'd clearly both adored Felix before, had flirted with him and gone out of your way to be in contact with him, but now it was... official? Was that the right way to put it? Possessive. That's more like it. Uncomfortably hot to think about, he'd once overheard. All three of you took a bit of pride in that when he'd told you. But no, Felix never really minded; he knows people find him charming and beautiful and magnetic, but even he is shocked to have two beautiful heirs so willing to get on their knees for him. He'd take any opportunity to show either, or both, of you off just as you'd both eagerly do the same with very little provocation.

"Our Felix."

In a dark corner of some house party, all of you a little high, a little drunk, tangled up together, curled around him on a loveseat definitely meant for two people, Felix feels like he's losing track of where he ends and you two begin. Its not at the point of indecency - yet - but he's not exactly sure which hands are yours and which are Ollie's, both of you curled up with him pressed between you both. You're tucked up with your head on his chest, while Oliver has his chin on Felix's shoulder, all enjoying the warm, buzzing high that engulfs you as you pass a joint back and forth between the three of you. If this moment lasted forever, Felix thinks he'd be okay with that.

Oliver always seemed to get quieter when he got high, somehow more owlishly observant, but his focus was always unnervingly absolute, if affectionate. You, however, were the tactile one of the pair, insistent yet careless about your love, needing others to keep you in check while in public as your shame seemed to evaporate in the smoke. Sober-Felix is glad for Oliver in those moments, as he seemed to have a great deal of experience in stopping High-You from making a fool of yourself. (High-Felix thinks he's a bloody buzzkill half the time; it's not like anyone would really care if you went down on him under the table at a club, right?)

All that to say that Felix knew it was really only a matter of time before you were pressing insistent kisses along his jaw, practically begging for his attention here on the sofa well after midnight at this house party. He loved having you both like this, with all the world at your fingertips but you both prefer to be holding him. Oliver cradles his face so delicately as he presses the joint between Felix's lips, and you practically melt under his touch as he shotguns that lungful of smoke into your mouth. He mumbled blurry praise against your lips as you hold the smoke in.

"Aren't they just darling?" Oliver sighs fondly in Felix's ear in a voice that reminded Felix why so many people believed the rumours about the two of you. But in this moment he can only bring himself to agree, wearing a smug smile as he nips teasingly at your lips.

"They're just darling," he echoes as you whine and finally let the smoke from your lungs. Felix finally stops teasing and kisses you, just as sloppy, passionate, and desperate as you are in that moment. The moment his hand slides from around your shoulder, down your side to your hip to pull you in closer, you moan faintly into his mouth. Felix feels when you cross one leg over the other, that leg coming making its way over one of his too, but coming to a stop before you can slide your leg between his thighs.

"Careful," Oliver's voice is low and sly when he interrupts you both. When you pull back, Felix sees Oliver's hand on your knee, the thing that had kept things from getting far more scandalous for the time being. While you whine about it, Oliver gives you a placating smile, softly pushing your leg back and passing over the joint as if it's compensation. Felix's head already feels like it's spinning from the sensations of it all, but Oliver's hand is gentle on his chin, tilting Felix's lust filled gaze while you were otherwise taking a hit.

"You'll get your chance," Oliver promises with a wicked grin before he too is kissing Felix. More insistent than his sibling, Oliver bites at Felix's lips, makes Felix think the word obsessive in the most loving way.

You giggle in his ear this time - our Felix, so good to us - as if he'd be anything less than. Oliver's hand is still on your thigh while you're half curled against Felix. A tiny part of him thinks the three of you must be getting looks, if anyone's bold enough to look in your direction, but the rest of him doesn't care. None of you do, your own little world, your own feedback loop of endorphins, all at once desiring and the desired. When he has both of your attention on him like this he is inevitably a mess, the way you lavish him with praise and affection, a lover shared, obedient between you both and simply eager to give as good as he got.

I'm kind of a mess about this dynamic omg...... but so is Felix 🥰🥰