#you can go through my clips tag to see some of these

[atthebell]

what happened w bolas today i was busy touching grass

tldr cellbit and baghs were hunkered down underground after the nuke went off and the watcher tasked them with fucking with the purgatory 2 participants-- it gave them op gear and set them loose on everyone and they ran around trying to (and occasionally succeeding at) killing people

important roleplay moments:

they said they'd been relying on each other to cope with the loss of the eggs & their loved ones (they both believe all the eggs died in the earthquake/because of the nuke and got mad at bad for trying to tell them otherwise)

they're somewhat listless and, in OG bolas fashion, set in the idea that this is the only option, so they want to follow whatever actions the eye/watcher gives them, as it's kept them alive and gives them things to do and they desperately need direction.

baghera killed brunim for having phil's face but not actually being him (iconic)

cellbit had several fun fuga throwback moments with pac and jvnq, and he got into it with natalan who claimed he'd been married to roier before (somewhat true in chafa lore (they were married for about five seconds and natalan Did Not Reciprocate roier's feelings) but not accurate to his own actual interest in the relationship, clearly said to piss cellbit off, we'll see if it comes up with qroier and whether he considers chafa canon to his character or not)

baghera's chainsaw wants to eat people tbh baghera popped off as she always does with the craziness fr pls watch her pov the way she killed bagi was so fucking funny

at the end they were led to a different place with a sharestone that had an error, and found the camp where richas and pomme had been staying when they were on egg island. they read a bunch of their signs, checked out their little house, and talked about missing their kids and how they wish they could've saved them (again, in rp they both believe the eggs are dead, and when seeing evidence to the contrary seemed confused. i think this was partly them genuinely believing the kids are dead and also bc they dont want to use their meta-knowledge that the eggs ARE alive when they're not supposed to know that).

they decided to go to bed, but the watcher told them they had one last mission-- to kill all the sinners. and then it gave them a sharestone back to the bolas bunker. they decided to go to bed anyway and ignored the mission. the watcher may have wanted them to kill each other, unclear exactly what the deal was

not clear if they're going to be back later this week to fuck with participants again or not-- i got the vibe of not really, but we'll see. they might return but do something different, cellbit said something about wondering if their gear was too op or not, but i don't know if he meant they'll be back and he wants to make sure they talk to admins about nerfing them a bit or if he just was chatting about it a little bit

also cellbit went live on his alt and talked a bit of meta, and said they sent some ideas to the admins and then were told they'd work something up but wanted to surprise them on the specifics. he talked about it being more rp than lore, and that purgatory 2 doesnt have to be entirely canon if people don't want it to be.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

I love the original Cars 2006 game so much. The one that got released on like GameCube and Xbox. I mean, I love all the Cars games(Cars 3 Switch game they did you dirty), but that's an entire story for another time giving my individual appriciation for all of them later. What I'm going to say here applies pretty well to the other games that are centered around the first movie as well like Race-O-Rama and Maternationals, but I'm specifcally rewatching the original one's cutscenes again because I don't want to restart my data every time I wanna go through the cutscenes again(even though I enjoy playing it so, so much), and I just love the atmosphere in it so much. Some of my favorite movie scenes are the ones where they don't have any music playing because I love to close my eyes and turn up the volume and just.. pretend I am right there with the characters and right next to them and stuff or that they're talking to me or such, and that is extra immersible when there isn't an entire orchestra going on(not that I am knocking at having music at all, I regularly go back and listen to the soundtracks from movies if they have them posted).

And the game doesn't really have any music at all during any of the cutscenes and the whole thing is like super..soft to me? Not soft as in like fluffy pillows and pink aesthetic soft, but soft as in like it's getting late out and so you're trying to be kinda hushed with your voice and there's not really anywhere you have to be so you slow down your pace and kick a couple of pinecones or rocks. If that makes any sense at all. Cause normally movies or shows(whether the whole series or each individual episode) have a certain plot or arc that is happening that everyone is focused on and consumes the whole thing, give or take a few moments. And while this game does have a particular thing so it can have a start and end to the story of the game, everything is framed in like a "Yeah, this is what they get up to in their freetime." And I don't know if you know but I love my slice of life stuff so sooooooo so so infinitely much. So getting to get that sort of content is really fun and perfect for me. It's like you're just actively hanging around them and getting caught up in whatever typical nonsense they end up in(assuming we are ignoring the whole monster truck bit), and the "OH THINGS ARE. HITITNG THE FAN." Or bigger development moments are saved for like the movies or something or whatever comes up in my head.

I'm not really entirely headed anywhere with this, I just wanted to put out some appriciation for the game and how nice the atmosphere is. I think it's also cause I really love getting to just sit and here them talk and there is a lot of casual conversation that happens and just plain dialog. Like it's not even filler dialog it's just talking and chatting. And I spend a stupid silly amount of time listening to voiceline compilations on YouTube so this is just the bees knees for me.

Thank you for the read though, may I offer you with a clip because APPERENRLY there's a limit to one clip per post that I am just now finding out about. I think I've already talked about the Litnig one anyway. Maybe I'll post it again later.

I uuuuguguhhh also perfectly reached the tag limit. If anyone needs anything to do in their freetime while bored or as a filler may I suggest reading this post and it's tags, you will be occupied for a while IFNFJCJFNS. I was half joking about reaching the tag limit as well. Well, we all saw it coming, it was going to have to happen one day. And go figure after a long absence that I was going to have it in me to do some running of my mouth...

I do want to say I am probably back now yall! Knock on wood- but I think the reign of my absence is over! Which I am especially hoping so for several reasons but also because I am so SO not done milking F/Ovember to its full extent. I spent too many months looking forward to that to not invest and rot my blog with it.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

shifted gears like alright after the [lucifer the mysteries please] centered approach that found mostly Other Stuff, centering [blade gunnblade please], and already have found something new but in the "possibly inaccurate & probably irrelevant even if otherwise" vein as a review read through the wayback machine says: "perhaps none moreso than the gun toting android Blade Gunblade, perfectly embodied by Asia Kate Dillon. They even get an awesome heart-wrenching backstory." which is so far the singular mention that blade gunnblade is an android, however, reviewers can Just Say Things, so. i believe the blade gunnblade full backstory clip that's available is from pre 2015's run at the pit, & rather a previous run as serials at the flea (and the prop & setpiece differences if it was simply an alex seife understudy performance from 2015 would be: inexplicable) but i have to imagine that blade's peak tragic backstory ft. murdered wife & child would be very similar, & i guess it would be funny if they were just out & about living their ordinary life with a family like that while also an android, but. however i'll also give them that: mentioned a bit more often is that at least at some point kapow-i Becomes part android / referred to as a cyborg, thanks to the same character as in 2015 & prior's tragic backstory. i don't think this fun fact is like super constantly relevant or obvious, so i Could imagine something along the lines of blade getting the same treatment & it also not being particularly more relevant. or else the proximity of such concepts like "kapow-i's a cyborg, the serials run clip seems to refer to like 'we need this specific rando who is now blade to be injected with Ultimate Fighter elixir (& have their family killed. because) & people's whose bodies couldn't handle it are now kind of like funny little robots (cybernetically automated but with some personality)" & like blade we need you to be a fighting machine was thus sort of conflated lol. but maybe they're a cyborg like i think it happens a lot anyways

[starkwlkr]

day in the life of a monaco mama | baby leclerc

inspired by the day in the life of a nyc mom tiktoks :) ruby and théo are aged up a bit here.

Y/n had the bright idea of posting more content to her tiktok account. She had a couple of videos, but that was pretty much it. She would get many comments telling her to post more so she thought of an idea. She had seen those day in my life videos everywhere so she filmed one with Ruby and Mathéo.

“Hi everyone, welcome to a day in my life in Monaco!” The video starts off with Y/n making herself some coffee for her and Charles then cuts to her waking the kids up so they can get ready. Today, Charles is leaving for the Dutch Grand Prix so I got his coffee ready while he helped the kids get ready for the day.”

Y/n filmed Charles giving the kids several kisses and hugs then gave her a kiss and hug before Joris arrived and together they were on their way to the plane. “We try to take the kids to a couple of races, but they recently said they prefer to stay home, hang out with their friends or stay with their grandmère, which doesn’t upset Charles at all.” The voiceover said.

“So after we get ready and eat some breakfast, the kids and I go for a walk to the gardens then we come back to their grandmère’s house and we hang out for a bit.” Y/n filmed the kids waving hello to a couple of people on their walk. Then the video showed Pascale greeting the kids and hugging Y/n.

“When it was time to leave, Mathéo wanted to stay because his grandmère was going to visit some family and he wanted to tag along so him and Pascale left and it turned into a mommy daughter day.” Y/n showed several clips of Ruby running around them posing for the camera.

Then the video cuts to them walking around Monaco. “We stopped for lunch at Ruby’s favorite place called Bella Vita and it’s close to a little playground so if you’re ever in Monaco and with your kids, i would recommend coming here. Ruby loves it.” Y/n filmed Ruby eating a piece of of pizza. The little girl saw the camera then smiled and put up a thumbs up.

“After lunch, we walked around, then Ruby wanted to go to see her papa’s car that’s with the rest of Prince Albert’s collection. Whenever we have time, she always requests to go see it.”

They walked to the museum that held Prince Albert’s collection. Y/n filmed the cars. At one point the video showed Y/n posing in front of Charles’ Ferrari car that won in Spa and Monza. The clip was courtesy of Ruby since she wanted to film her maman at least once.

The video then cut to a couple looking at Charles’ Ferrari that were standing next to Ruby, who was taking a picture with her camera that Charles bought her. The man noticed Ruby and wondered if she knew the history of the car.

“That car won—”

“Monza and Spa. I know, that’s my papa’s car.” She replied to her walked back to her maman.

The woman tried to hold in her laugh, but she couldn’t. The couple watch Ruby wave goodbye to them as her and Y/n walked away to their next destination.

“On our way to the oceanographic museum, we ran into some Ferrari fans that wanted to give Ruby and i some friendship bracelets and coincidentally, Ruby had some on her as well so we traded. Thanks for the bracelets, Amanda and Jade!” The clip showed two girls trading bracelets with Ruby.

“Ruby is going through her ocean phase at the moment. She loves telling Charles and i facts about the ocean at all times and I mean at all times. This girl will sit you down and tell you facts as if her life depended on it.” Y/n filmed Ruby admiring the pretty fish then pointing to her favorite one.

Then the video cut to Ruby trying to pronounce anemone because she was trying to tell her mom a fact about the clown fish. “The anemoney . . anu. . anomoon. . .” She stumbled over her words.

“Anemone.” Y/n clarified, but Ruby still messed up. “That’s okay, you’ll pronounce it right next time.”

“I hope so. I don’t want the clown fish to feel sad because I can’t say it right.” Ruby said sadly.

The video then shows Ruby talking with kids her own age. She, of course, made new friends and even invited them to sleepover at her house. Y/n and the other moms laughed, but did promise a sleepover some other time.

“Finally, we went back home to Pascale’s and had dinner where the kids FaceTimes Charles. Our days aren’t always like this, but I always want to fill our days with something to do.”

The TikTok ended up gaining millions of views, likes, shares and comments. Most of them coming from F1 fans, but she didn’t mind.

COMMENTS

pierresgaszlys I NEED MOREEE

f1elle ruby making friends 🥹

sebsbees imagine trading friendship bracelets with ruby leclerc

cruelsummerstan mathéo choosing to stay with his grandma awww 😭

charlesleclerc miss you!!

danielricciardosupremacy oh to live in monaco and trade bracelets with ruby leclerc 😭🥲

[leonspretty]

“slut!”

spencer had never told the team he had a girlfriend, never mind what her job was

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x reader

tags: fem! reader, no y/n, reader is a stripper (not explicit), based on a tiny scene but idk what ep or season, fluff!

notes: i was watching spencer clips and i saw the scene of him from i think season 6 where he and Emily were in a strip club asking questions. Then I was listening to slut! by taylor and thought i could make this work somehow. this isnt me calling strippers sluts btw!!! i just know some guys who have called them sluts and i love the chorus of this song and figured i could make it into something.

wc: 1,468

“And if they call me a slut, You know it might be worth it for once” — Taylor Swift's "Slut!" (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

He honestly hadn't meant for his team to find out about you through him spilling about your job. He also hadn't meant to keep you as a secret but with the continuous cases recently, he hadn't had much chance to tell them about you.

Spencer asking the witness if her boyfriend had a problem with her job wasn't judgemental, it was a question they needed to ask, and he knew how some men reacted to finding out their girlfriends were strippers, you had told him enough stories from your own experiences to support this.

"It's how we met, so no. Why? Do you have a problem with it?"

"No I don't, actually my girlfriend is in the same line of work and also I'm from Vegas so-" He stopped his ramble early at Emily's pointed look. He had assumed it was because he was starting to ramble, but her look of, 'we need to talk' told him it was because of this new fact about him that she didn't know. Luckily, she dropped it for now and the rest of the talk went smoothly. The subject of a girlfriend wasn't brought up until they were back at the precinct.

"Got anything for us?" Morgan asked as Spencer and Emily walked in.

"Yeah, did you know Reid has a girlfriend?" Emily questioned, not giving Spencer a chance to say anything about the case. Morgan's face shot up in surprise as did JJ's, but Emily continued, "And get this, she's a stripper!"

Ignoring the looks he was getting, Spencer turned to Emily, his tone accusatory. "You say that like it's a bad thing." Immediately, Emily corrected herself.

"No, of course it's not, it's just-"

"We didn't expect someone like that to be your type." JJ said.

Before Spencer had a chance to say that they had never even met her so how could they know, Hotch and Rossi walked in, forcing a subject change.

It wasn't until they were on the jet home and Spencer was reading a book waiting for your reply to him asking to come over for the night that the topic of his mystery girlfriend was brought up again.

As Emily took a seat across from him she asked what they had all been wanting to know. "So how come we've never met your girlfriend? Or even heard of her?"

"I did want to tell you all but it was still relatively new and then we had a long string of cases and I wanted her to meet you when I told you so I just didn't mention it." As he was talking, his phone pinged with a text to which he immediately picked up to read.

"So now that we know, do we get to meet her?"

"I will ask her. You guys were thinking of going out tonight right? I'm going straight to her apartment so I can see if she's off tonight to join us."

That seemed to be enough for Emily as she nodded and gave Spencer a smile, walking back to her seat from before.

You could tell Spencer was hiding something. When he arrived at your apartment he was quiet and it seemed like he wanted to talk but he hid it by practically devouring you and keeping you moaning for over an hour.

Deciding you wanted to find out what it was right now, you took action: grabbing his book from his hands and placing it page down on the table behind you, straddling him on the couch. His hands instinctively went to your waist as he gave you a kiss, despite his questioning look.

"Hi." He said, to which you replied the same. "As much as I do love you on me, we decided to rest for a while. Realised you actually can't resist me after all?" He joked.

It was true. To resist Spencer was torture but your pride refused to let you go back on your statement from earlier so quickly. In your break earlier Spencer had called you insatiable when he got up to get you some water. To this you denied and said that you could easily resist him, you just never wanted to and so Spencer challenged you.

"No... but I can tell you want to say something and I'm just curious to find out what it is."

Spencer had been holding off on asking you to go out with him tonight. He couldn't understand why he was so nervous but he took a breath and asked you anyway.

"It kind of slipped during the last case that I have a girlfriend and also what your job was and now my team wants you to come out with us tonight." Spencer spoke quickly in hopes to not stumble over himself.

Your head filled with questions like why was he scared to tell you this? what prompted him to tell them? was he meaning to keep you a secret? Instead you replied with one single "Yes," throwing Spencer completely off guard. He was expecting at least a question about why he had only just told them when you had been together for nearly 3 months now.

"Oh, that's great, um, we're going to a bar not too far from here actually and we can leave in about 2 hours?"

You nodded and internally decided against bombarding him with questions, instead going in for a kiss, all pride and challenge from earlier forgotten.

The nerves only hit you when you were walking to the bar hand in hand with Spencer. Your face must have displayed these nerves, prompting Spencer to pull you closer and ask if you were okay.

"Yeah, I am, I'm excited to meet your team, but you told them about my job right? They're not all weird about it?" Usually, you didn't care about what people think about you, but you really liked Spencer, and the way he spoke about his team proved that he cared deeply for them and you just wanted them to like you too. From the way Spencer had spoken about them, they didn't seem like the type to judge people for doing what they needed to for money, as long as it was legal of course, but still, you'd had your fair share of encounters with boyfriend's friends that have lead to you being dumped all because they've seen you on stage.

"They would never. They're nice people, truly. And I can tell you right now, Emily will be all over you for how you look tonight."

His words lifted your nerves and by the time you were walking through the bar doors, you were eager to meet them. It took not a minute for Spencer's hand to be at the small of your back leading you to a booth full of people. You took a deep breath saying to yourself that even if they called you a slut, it might be worth it for once, as long as you were seen on Spencer's arm.

Getting to the booth you noticed four people sat, watching as you guys approached. You could feel their eyes on you but to your surprise, they didn't feel judgemental or disgusted - they were kind and eager.

Before Spencer had a chance to introduce you to anyone, a woman was in front of you offering her hand. "Hi, I'm Emily, you are so hot!" Her enthusiasm made you giggle as you shook her hand and replied with your name and "So are you!"

As you got acquainted with the team, Spencer left to the bar to buy you and him a drink, smiling to himself as he saw your own smile from across the bar.

The rest of the night ran smoothly with you quickly realising just how true Spencer's words were. None of his team even cared about what kind of job you had, all they cared about was if you were a good match for their youngest team member.

As you parted ways from Penelope's hold, promising to go out with her and the other girls alone again, Spencer watched with a smile.

"You really love her, huh?" Derek's voice startled Spencer slightly, but he nodded anyway, giving you his biggest grin as you came closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest.

"Yeah, I really do." Spencer replied, putting his arm around your waist and saying goodbye as he began to lead you back to your apartment. You didn't even need to have heard what Derek had said to him because you could see it in Spencer's eyes. Because in a world of boys who judged you and called you a slut for doing what you're good at, Spencer was a gentleman who would never let those boys anywhere near you.

this one took me a little longer to finish up than i had intended cause work was draining the past few days but i finally got it done. i have more ways to lengthen it but then id feel like it drags on and i just wanted to get it out so i apologise for the semi-rushed ending. i actually dont mind this one so i hope you enjoyed and please send requests, the people i can write for are in my masterlist!

dividers by @cafekitsune

thank you for reading!

[meanbossart]

Pin!

Hi, I'm RJ (Male, 27 years old) I'm a -usually- horror oriented artist and collaborator alongside my partner and better-half @barbatusart, though I'm currently on a Baldur's Gate 3/DnD streak with both my art and writing, specifically centered around the Dark Urge I created for my campaign and his antics, so that's most of what you will find here!

I want to leave a warning right here that I occasionally venture into delicate topics in regards to character lore and history - though none of it strays too far from what the game already delves into and I try to give a heads-up ahead of time whenever I feel like something might catch someone off-guard otherwise.

PATREON WHERE I POST WIPS, SKETCHES, UNRELEASED ART, ALL OF MY NSFW CONTENT, ETC : patreon.com/meanbossart/

BLUESKY WHERE I PUT UP FULL VERSIONS OF *SOME* OF THE NSFW THAT I CAN'T POST HERE: bsky.app/profile/meanbossart.bsky.social

TWITCH WHERE I STREAM SOMETIMES: twitch.tv/meanboss14

PSA: I get a lot of asks and I'm slow to go through them, please don't take it personally :U

Anyway, here's the guy of the hour:

🚨FAQ BELOW🚨

Q: Does your Durge have a name? A: Nope! I named him "drow" when I played the game because I didn't feel like thinking up anything special. His lack of a name has become part of the character's lore and you will find him to always be tagged with "DU drow", or referred to as The Drow or just Drow.

Q: Where can I read your BG3 fan-fiction? And what is it about? A: Right here! The main plot follows DU Drow, Astarion, and Shadowheart on a new adventure that fractures into a couple of different directions, but mainly focuses on the aftermath of the spawn that Astarion has released and the personal development of the main cast, alongside a number of original characters that get involved in the narrative. My goal was to create a kind of "DLC" experience, so you can expect a lot of themes that parallel the main game.

Q: Can I draw one of your characters, a scene from your story, or any of your characters interacting with mine/other characters? And can it be NSFW in nature? A: YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN, AND I'LL BE DELIGHTED TO SEE IT IF YOU CARE TO SHARE. I'm equally fine with NSFW as long as everyone involved (in the art and otherwise) is an adult.

Q: What drawing software/tablet/brushes do you use? A: I draw on a Wacom Cintiq 22, using Clip Studio Pro. I switch around brushes quite often but most of what I use comes from the DAUB super-bundle by Paolo Limoncelli.

Q: Where can I find more of your work? A: You can find mine and my partner's comics here, but please bear in mind that most of it is highly violent stuff and you should read the content warnings on the store page carefully before making any purchases - if in doubt of whether or not any of it could be detrimental to your mental health, DON'T BUY IT. Stay safe!

Q: Do you take commissions? A: I am not currently taking any new commission inquiries, sorry!

[jishyucks]

⋆.˚ Twinkle, Twinkle ˚.⋆ — lmk (Teaser)

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader

‣  genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers

‣ current wc: 5.6k (so far), about 65% done, predicted 10k

‣ summary: The world is sick and tired of your and Mark’s inability to understand feelings. With a friendship that has lasted longer than you can count on your fingers and friends who can tell you’re both utterly in love with each other, the universe decides to make use of its different light forms to tip you both over the edge of friendship.

‣ warnings (so far): some cliches?, like one kms joke, mentions of alcohol, mentions of vomiting (cause of alcohol)

‣ an: this idea has been rotting in my drafts since like February and i finally got the motivation to write it yippeeee,,, tag list maybe? just ask!

Without light, it’d be awfully difficult to see (duh)

Mark’s bed was the 2nd most comfiest bed in the world, a close runner-up to your parents’.

His mother truly chose the perfect pillow for you to use, paired with a blanket that complimented it well. They both smelled like fresh laundry, an aroma you were familiar with because your best friend smelled exactly like this.

The clock on Mark’s nightstand reads 12:23 AM, moonlight pushing past his closed shutters to emit a bit of its light into his room. Its light does poorly, giving the glow-in-the-dark stars on Mark’s ceiling a chance to emerge through the darkness.

Your mind’s filled with thoughts of the conclusion of the movie you both had just watched—Tangled—and your younger self could not help but think…

“Mark?” you called out into the darkness, “Mark, are you awake?”

There’s shuffling in the space next to you and then you hear Mark hum, “I’m awake. Why?”

You hesitate to ask the question that’s been keeping your brain occupied ever since the credits started rolling. But knowing Mark, he wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

“Do you…”

You can barely see Mark’s head lift up to look at you in the darkness, bedhead creating a jagged outline.

“Do you think I’ll ever fall in love and get married like Rapunzel did in the movie?”

Your mind replays the clips of Rapunzel and Eugene underneath the lanterns, lights creating a scene you’ll never forget for the rest of your life.

Mark hums again, something that he did when he was deep in thought. Your question wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s overheard a lot of the other girls in his class talking about crushes they’ve had on other classmates or squealing over that one idol he couldn’t remember the name of. The only difference now was that these thoughts were coming out of you.

“Do you think you won’t?” Was Mark’s reply.

At the time, you really didn’t know what you were saying, barely having the knowledge to understand the deeper meaning of it all.

Love and marriage? You weren’t aware that you had skipped practically everything before that.

“I think so.”

Mark doesn’t reply for a long while, long enough to convince you that he had fallen asleep the second you answered his question. But when you feel the bed dip, you can make out that he is now sitting up and reaching for his lamp.

Click!

You let out a quiet hiss, squeezing your eyes shut because you’re suddenly blinded.

Mark snorts, “Sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

There’s movement on his end again, the blankets softly rustling. You’re not sure what Mark was trying to do, but once you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see in the lowly-lit room are his eyes shining back at you, mouth opened slightly because he was going to say something. He’s propped up on his elbows, crushing the barrier pillow between you both.

“Why’d you have to turn the light on?” You scoot yourself up to face your best friend.

Mark shrugs as chews on his bottom lip in search of words, “I just feel like it’ll mean more if you could see me saying it.”

“Saying what?”

“You’ll find your happily ever after,” Mark says seriously. You can tell just by the way he looked at you that he was serious. Not even a hint of kidding looming behind his pupils. You forget that Mark was such an optimist.

Your brows furrow, unsure whether or not you should take this boy seriously. “And how are you so sure about that?”

Mark’s eyes reflect the light coming from his lamp and he grins. It’s almost creepy the way he does, like he has something hidden up his sleeve.

“I just am.”

[tojisun]

do you think biker!simon has an instagram account to share some videos or photos of his motor? even he shares his own photos, he won't take off his helmet i suppose hehe :3

YEA I DO!!! biker!simon’s instagram account was made so he can follow his friends (not just the squad but also those that he met in meet ups) and also biking events. he first gained traction because of the bit he’s got going on wherein no one knows how he looks like until now, but then clips of his tricks during meet ups get posted and naturally people are drawn to him. add the fact that this well-built man with a sexy voice is also just a big bike nerd? yeah, people are enamoured for sure.

it’s not like he’s influencer famous, which he’s fucking thankful for, but simon becomes a household name for bikers and fans alike. then, your name came along and all of a sudden, a power couple just bloomed right before simon’s followers’ eyes. of course they’ve got to extend the support your way.

at first they’re following you because of simon; because they see just how cute he is whenever he talks about you – always posting you on his account or story; always finding ways to include you in the topic (with limitations of course) and tag you in posts. and god his followers adore seeing simon act so smitten and in love.

but you’re just too beautiful and sweet and kind.

what started as curious support became genuine; often they’d even ask simon where you are when simon’s account goes live during a meet up (all his followers know by now that every time simon’s live during a meet up, it’s actually johnny using simon’s phone), and simon would wag his finger in front of the camera as if to say “secret.” it’s johnny who would thankfully grace them with a normal reply, doing so by flipping the camera to show you to them. and, well, they wouldn’t be able to blame simon for wanting to keep you all for himself because they’d see you perched on his bike, wrapped in leather while wearing your and simon’s matching helmet, looking all parts divinely and untouchable.

simon would mass like comments that always compliment you. his favourite? “@yourname please please step on me. i promise i’ll bark”. simon laughed at the ridiculousness of it before liking the comment and replying to the original commenter with “get in line, lad.”

HHHH BUT YEA!! i absolutely see simon having a decent-following instagram account that is full of pictures of you, the two of you driving around, and his bike.

-

i searched through the trenches (my room) and was able to find my old phone!! i revived it for a short smau of biker!simon and what i think his account would look like (also featuring a short one of reader’s account!). check under the cut <333

click through the individual pictures for better quality and so that u can see the captions teehee!!

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i enjoyed making these omg!! hope u loved them toooo <333

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Finale — Azriel x Reader

Summary: The grand Illyrian ball is here. Reader is more than ready to return to Windhaven and Azriel, but daddy Fin throws a huge spanner in the works. Life as they know it is about to change.

Note — I’ve tried to tag everyone who’s asked but there are some people that it simply won’t let me tag 🥲

Word Count: 10.6k (oop, sorry 😅)

Warnings: There’s a looot to unpack here. Depictions of violence and gore. Some light smut. 18+!

This place is cold and unforgiving.

The air in your lungs is constricted before you’ve even stepped through the giant gates. They call it the Hewn City due to its entirety being hewn from cold, hard rock.

But you get the feeling these walls are more than that. You can feel the horror in the cracks, the loneliness that screams behind its surface.

You don’t know how Mor has survived so long here. You’re already itching to get out.

A warm hand splays across your back, and you turn to face Fin. It’s not the first time he drinks you in so hungrily, but you could be forgiven for thinking so, by the way his eyes heat all over again. He glances quickly at your lips, and in this empty meeting room that he’s stolen you away to, you’re not at all sure that he isn’t bold enough to act on that hunger.

“Focus, High Lord.” You murmur, brushing the lapel of his tailored jacket. “You’ve an audience waiting for you.”

Somewhat of an infantile groan leaves him — one you’re not sure he’d share with many others. He dips down and allows his forehead to drop against your shoulder, slowly breathing in your scent.

“And if I said fuck the audience,” he murmurs, “and decided to stay here to dip under this gown and ravish you? What then?”

“Then I wager your subjects would be mighty displeased that you brought them here for nothing.”

“I could make you moan,” his nose nudges your neck, “loud enough to give them a show.”

“Later.” You promise falsely, and the lie is sour on your tongue. You step back and straighten yourself out. “You have a duty to attend to.”

The way his eyes sweep you tells you that you are the only duty he wishes to attend to. But he relents with a sigh and inclines his head.

“I do.” He admits. “And I will have to play my role out there. I’ll be mostly unavailable for the duration of this ball, so…I want you to go and have fun. Just don’t stray too far. I’ve organised the evening’s entertainment with you in mind, and I want you by my side when you see it.”

For a beat, you can only blink at him. You’re…touched, that he would do that for you. And your mind immediately starts swirling with possibilities of what that entertainment might be. Perhaps a show of professional dancers or a theatrical performance.

You study him, attempting to glean information merely from the expression on that granite-hewn face. “It’s Starfall.” You remind him. “Is that not the evening’s entertainment?”

He merely smiles. “I’ll send for you when it’s time.” He leans down, coasting his lips over one cheek and then the other. “Enjoy yourself.”

Without another word, he turns. Rolls his shoulders and slips into his High Lord roll. But before he can take a step towards the door, you're grabbing his hand.

“Fin—” You blurt, and he stops. You swallow as you stare up at him. “Just…please don’t let Tathaln Baralas ruin the camps.”

His gaze searches your face. You can’t get a read on his expression.

But then the corners of his lips curve up, and he’s squeezing your hand.

“I won’t let Tathaln become a problem.” He says, and then repeats, “enjoy yourself.”

The way he prises his hand from yours has an air of finality that stops you from pushing any further. You want to ask — beg, if you have to — for his reassurance. But he strides to the door, sleek black shoes clipping against the marble floor.

And left alone, you think you may have done all you possibly can do. That the rest is out of your hands.

So you attempt to shake off your relentless anxiety, and you go to find your friends.

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Weaving through the mammoth structure and the sea of Illyrians that fill it, you’ve already witnessed three fights and two couples damn near fucking in nothing more hidden than the alcoves carved into the walls. Pretty tame for your people, but alas, the night is young.

There are so many pairs of wings. There is such a thick air of arrogance and ego and brutishness. You’re not quite sure where you fit in here, but before you can find a refreshment that will dull that feeling, strong arms are wrapping around your waist and yanking you backwards.

You scream, and no one around you bats an eyelash. You thrash and buck, but the attempt is met with—

Deep, smooth laughter that you know so, so well.

You relax in the offender’s hold immediately, and their arms loosen enough for you to twist in them.

You glare up at Cassian and send a punch to his bicep. “Asshole.”

“Ow!” He chokes on another laugh, and then he’s grinning brilliantly, white teeth gleaming in the fae light. “Hello, Sweetpea. I’ve missed you.”

Fuck, you’ve missed him too. And that’s all it takes for you to throw your arms around him and squeeze.

He smells like Cass. That rugged scent of his that is such a comfort. And the way he hugs you back, firm yet gentle, warm and loving and present, tells you that any previous anger he had towards you is a thing of the past.

“Windhaven is fucking boring without you.” He pulls back, holding you at arms length — and blinks. “Holy gods, look at you.”

“Look at you.” Your eyes rove over him, from his tailored, maroon-coloured suit to his brushed, slicked-back hair. His wings are squeaky clean and flared proudly. He’s stunning. Breathtaking.

He cracks another Cassian grin. “Who knew we could brush up so well, hey, Sweetpea? You’re absolutely gorgeous. I’ll be the envy of all these Illyrian males, knowing I fucked you—”

“Cassian.” You land another hit to his bicep. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ve actually been sent to collect you. A certain someone is waiting for you on a patio. I’ll give you a clue — he, too, has fucked you—”

With a roll of your eyes, albeit a fond one, you’re breezing past him with a feeling of…need. To see Azriel. To have him ground you in a place and circumstance of such unfamiliarity. You need that comfort.

Cass follows promptly, slinging an arm around your shoulder — not just because he’s missed you, but because the leering eyes of hundreds of Illyrian males follow your every step. Those gazes seem to drink in your dress bead by little bead. They’re hungry for sex and for violence.

“Out here.” Your friend steers you down a hallway, untouched by not only guests, but also the horrific brilliance of the rest of this place. This is an area that most aren’t supposed to see, with chipped concrete floors and peeling walls. It’s so cold, so ugly and uninviting, that you can’t imagine why Azriel would summon you here, of all places.

But then a door appears at the end of the winding hall, open just enough for a sliver of moonlight to touch the threshold. The fresh air has goosebumps spreading over your skin.

“He wanted some private time with you. Rhys and I said we’d keep watch.” Cass studies you and huffs a deep, dramatic sigh. “I’m trying really hard not to feel left out right now.”

“I’m sure you don’t really want to be the third wheel—”

“Sure I do. I’ve told Az that he wouldn’t even know I’m there, but no, he wants you all to himself. Selfish bastard.” He reaches out, pulling the door open wider for you. And then he calls, “I hope you heard that, fucker!”

Strong footsteps emerge from argent moonlight, and Azriel’s voice is a lilting shiver across your skin. “You know I heard it, you idiot.” He says. “You…”

His words trail off as he takes you in, and suddenly you don’t know what to do with your hands, your face, with any part of you.

His stare holds the weight of a very ancient love, so much older than the both of you. It somehow translates that you had his heart in a previous life, when you were different people entirely, and you’ll still have it in the next, when your souls begin anew.

He swallows, loud enough that you all hear it. And his voice is husky as he says, “There are no words worthy of you.”

And you’re hit with a strange urge to cry. Mostly because you feel exactly the same way about him.

He is…exquisite. He’s slicked his hair back, and that alone is a huge thing for him — to openly show each and every curve and line of his face, with no strands to hide behind. The curtain of his thick, dark lashes only accentuates the honey of his eyes and the gold of his skin.

And the suit he’s donned for the evening — that same maroon colour that Cass is wearing. You wonder if Rhys, wherever he is, is wearing the same. Whether the trio look as breathtaking together as you expect them to.

“No words.” Az repeats, shaking his head. “The Mother herself must have sent you to me.”

Cassian smirks and rests an elbow atop of your head, regardless of your perfected hair. “I said the same.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I said something similar.”

“It wasn’t even close to that.”

“Be grateful of my winning charm—”

“Cassian.” Az cuts him off. “Why don’t you go and find Rhys?”

Cass lets out an infantile whine. “But he’s having private time with Zakai.”

“And I’d like to have some private time with Y/N, so. Run along.”

Your friend offers a great, dramatic huff that makes you grin, but he removes his arm from your head and turns.

“This whole coupling up thing is boring!” He calls, retreating down the hall.

And then it’s just you and Azriel.

Your love. Your heart.

You turn back to him with a coy smile, reaching up to fix your hair.

“Let me.” Az murmurs, and he steps closer, his fingers sinking into the strands of your hair. Up close, you drink him down even more, greedy and insatiable. You want to know every expression, every thought.

“There are no words worthy of you, either.” You whisper, and his eyes drop down from your hair to meet yours. “You’re a vision, Az.”

He studies you for a moment. And though his hands leave the strands, they lower only to cup your face. His thumb strokes your cheek.

“What I am,” he murmurs, “is yours.”

Your eyes shutter, and you drop your forehead against his. Every last bit of trouble and turmoil you’ve experienced has been worth it to hear those words. You want them to mark your skin.

You push up onto the tips of your toes, slanting your mouth over Azriel’s. He wastes no time in sliding his hands to your waist and hauling you close to him.

You kiss him like doing so here isn’t risky. Like you have the freedom to kiss him whenever and however you both want, and there are no outer forces getting in the way. You long for the day when that will be the case. When you can love, and love proudly.

Perhaps that luxury isn’t too far out of reach.

Az seems to think so, too, as he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours once more, and he says, breathlessly, “Things are going to change — after tonight. I can feel it.”

You study him, searching for deeper meaning. And as though they can sense your anxiety, his shadows snake around your ankles in a soothing caress. “A good change, I hope.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. Me and you. I’m yours.”

You peck him once, twice. “And I am yours.”

Those words alone are enough to make heat blaze in his eyes. With adoration making way for passion, lust, he allows his gaze to rake over you, and he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.

“So fucking gorgeous.” His voice is guttural. “If we didn’t have to attend this ball right now, I would—”

The door flies open behind you, and Az looks more than ready to throttle Cassian as he prances back into sight and announces, “Found Rhys!”

“And we brought booze.” Rhys swiftly follows with a smirk. “Raided personally, by me, from my asshole father’s stash.”

Sure enough, his suit matches the other two. And seeing the three of them together like that, looking so beautiful, so proper, so…matured—

A lump forms in your throat that you force down. You furiously blink away the tears that sting your eyes.

Because it hits you, just then, how much you’ve missed this — the four of you, just being together, like old times. You were always such a strong unit, always driven by your love for one another, and the dysfunctional, unconventional, beautiful family you became. It’s been a long while since you looked upon these three males without burdening thoughts always remaining a step away. You miss the ease. You miss the love.

But here it is, right in front of you, just like it always will be. And in that moment, nothing else matters but your little unit. Just you, Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand.

As you shake out of your thoughts, you realise Rhys is staring at you just as intensely. Strong emotion swims in his eyes.

“…What?” You ask, smoothing your hands over your dress.

“You just…look incredible.” He smiles softly. “Every single star that soars above our heads tonight will have nothing on you.”

Just as you think you’re about to get choked up all over again, Cassian smirks and declares, “I said the same.”

You scowl, reaching out to swat him. “No, you did not. Just accept you’re bad at compliments and move on.”

“I’m a master at compliments, thank you very much.”

Az slides an arm around your waist and quirks an eyebrow. “You took Sacha for a drink and complimented her by saying you look like you bathed. You’re hardly a poet, Cass.”

It’s Cassian’s turn to scowl then. “Well, what I may lack in poetry, I make up for in the bedroom. As Y/N clearly knows.”

A snarl rips from Azriel’s throat. “Watch yourself.”

Rhys rolls his eyes and smacks Cassian upside the head. “Don’t wind him up, dickhead.”

“Who are you calling dickhead?”

“I’m calling you dickhead, dickhead.”

The bickering becomes background noise as you prise the bottle from Rhys’s hand and take a generous swig — none of which he even notices, as he and Cass continue taking swipes at each other.

And as the liquid burns your throat, you meet Azriel’s gaze. Both of you grin. He takes the bottle from you.

In that moment, all you feel is happiness. Beautiful familiarity. Rhys and Cassian tearing chunks out of each other while you and Azriel watch and laugh from the sidelines. It makes your heart feel heavy with such warmth that it may just burst.

You do not need lavishness or luxury. Your life is nothing special, but you do not want for anything.

Just this. Only this.

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“Who knew so many Illyrians could dance?”

Rhysand’s steps are swift and flawless. It’s situations like these — ones of strict propriety and, dare you say, class — that you’re reminded he’s only half-Illyrian. The other males around you may be trying their hand at dancing, but Rhys flows through each number with barely a thought.

You smile up at him, secure in his hold. A dance floor full of Illyrians is a temperamental and, quite frankly, stupid idea. Anyone who gets too close to another’s wings is asking for a punch. Or five.

But so far, it’s been surprisingly uneventful. And you might even begin to relax and enjoy yourself — if not for the images you keep glimpsing in your periphery.

Every now and then, a flash of bright red will pass you by as Kaeda is spun from one set of burly arms to another. Her dress is the same shade as her hair. It’s alarming. Makes you think of blood.

And even more alarming, perhaps, is the pair of eyes that follow you from the dais. Fin spares only cursory glances to the rest of his guests, from where he sits on his throne in pensive silence, but his eyes linger heavily on you. Hungry, flaming eyes that follow your every move. And standing at his side — Tathaln Baralas.

The Lord of Fenlaros is even bigger than you remember. In a tailored suit, he looks…all wrong. That kind of finery will never work with him. He’s rugged, and cold, and something tells you that while Fenlaros is considerably more civilised than the majority of Illyrian camps, Tathaln Baralas feels most at home with the bare necessities. Luxury is nothing but a fly buzzing in his ear.

But he will tolerate that fly, you know — can tell, precisely from the way his dark, frightening eyes watch the room with more intensity than any single person should harbour. And that intensity is directed solely at one person. Azriel.

Tathaln watches the shadowsinger as though he’s weighing up whether he can kidnap him from this event and force him to Fenlaros. It makes your stomach turn.

“You seem on edge tonight.” Rhys’s deep gaze studies you. His hand presses firmer against the small of your back. “I won’t let anything happen to you, don’t worry.”

You’re not sure if he’s referring to his father, or to Kaeda, or to her father. Or even just to the evening in general. But you squeeze his hand, all the same.

“You’re the best.” You tell him. “And you should be dancing with Zakai.”

His eyes glimmer with his signature charm. “Oh, I will. But I always intended to save the first dance for my best girl.”

The sentiment is so…Rhysand, so comforting, that you almost — almost — start to think that everything will be alright.

But he spins you under his arm, and it’s like being spun straight back into reality. Because as you turn, that gaze from up on the dais meets yours again.

And this time, it’s not just hungry — but possessive.

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You dance and dance until your feet feel like they might fall off. Although, you’re not sure how much of that can be attributed to Cassian stepping on them throughout his uncoordinated prancing.

But the more the night wears on, the more your stomach churns with deep, unrelenting anxiety. You feel sick. Like a shadow of doom is looming over your shoulder and waiting to pull you into its thrall. By the time Cassian hands you over to Azriel, you’re not entirely sure that you won’t be sick.

Az studies your face with clear concern on his own — concern that doesn’t make his steps falter. He’s a natural dancer, taught and honed by Roza. Almost as good as Rhys. He moves as swift as flying, but his expression doesn’t hold the same ease.

“What is it?” He asks, and his thumb sweeps a stroke over your hip. “You don’t look well.”

So badly, you want to lean into his touch. But…not now — not with Fin watching. You dare a quick glance at the dais, and sure enough, his eyes stalk you. They follow everywhere Azriel touches your body. Strangely, the hunger in them intensifies. The hickory shade of them has darkened until it’s almost a stark black. He licks his lips and watches Azriel’s fingers caress you through your dress.

“I’m just…ready for this night to be over. You know all this luxury isn’t my thing.”

His hands press firmer against your skin. “I must say, as much as I’m loving this dress, I’m equally excited to rip it off—”

“May I?”

Two seconds. You look away for two seconds, and Fin is suddenly off the dais and behind you. The guests around you all watch with curious eyes.

Azriel pauses, his lingering touch letting you know just how reluctant he is to let you go.

But ultimately, he is wise. And ultimately, he concedes.

“Of course, High Lord.” He inclines his head. “She’s your special guest, after all.”

“Yes.” Fin’s eyes don’t stray from you. “She is.”

You know it’s deliberate — the way he makes sure everyone is watching as he scoops you into his arms with a small lift off the ground. And then he begins dancing, and everyone else resumes.

As you follow his steps, you allow yourself the chance to look at him. Look at him, and wonder if he’ll hate you after all this is over. You…you don’t want him to hate you. That complicates things, but gods above, it’s true.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and you may as well be the only two people in the room as he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear, “When you look at me like that, Y/N, it makes me think I’m not such a bad male as most would think.”

“You’re not.” You respond almost immediately, and you mean it. “I think it’d surprise you to know how highly you’re regarded. Everyone in this room who is looking upon you—”

You yelp as he suddenly dips you, his lips at your ear.

“Everyone in this room,” he says, “is looking at you. And rightfully so. You’re a masterpiece — my masterpiece.”

The compliment — the possessiveness — all seems extreme. But then, you think everything about Fin might be a bit extreme. He doesn’t do anything by halves. The blush that dusts your cheeks seems to please him.

“You like it, don’t you?” His voice is like gravel. “That not a single male in here can take their eyes off you. You are the envy of every female. Stripped of wings, but not of raw, natural beauty.”

He straightens you out before you can reply, and your head spins — with the sudden movement, and with the whiplash of the comment. It both pleases you and reminds you how exposed your back is — the trauma that everyone can see.

“Charming as ever.” You swallow, hope the smile on your face is convincing. “I don’t quite know what to say.”

“Words are not necessary — not tonight.” The song you’re dancing to fades to an end, and he steadies you gently on your feet. His gaze sweeps you again, and he remarks, “The stars will begin their journeys soon.”

In the strange headiness of the evening, you almost forgot that this is, essentially, two events wrapped up in one. Starfall, and Fin’s lavish ball. Perhaps seeing those stars will bring you some semblance of peace — make you feel less lost than you do right now, as they travel somewhere unbeknownst to you, and perhaps unbeknownst to themselves, also.

“Will you be joining us outside to watch them?” You ask.

A strange smile curves his lips. “Indeed I will. It’s a magnificent sight to behold.” He steps back, bowing to press a kiss to the backs of your fingers. And then he straightens up. Retreats.

“However,” he says, “I do believe the entertainment I’ve arranged for you may just outshine those stars this year.”

He saunters away, back to his dais. And as he lowers himself into his throne, he meets your gaze.

That same old thirst in them is unquenchable.

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The males are treating the stardust like it’s the snow that so often coats your respective camps.

The first specks of it showering down on you were surprising, beautiful. But in true Illyrian fashion, what started as a cordial gathering to observe the soaring, luminous beings, has been reduced to little more than a drunken bust up.

You don’t know which camp launched the first clump of glimmering dust at another, but that was all it took for chaos to break out. The fray jostles you away from your friends until you can no longer feel Azriel pressed to your side or hear Cassian’s constant chattering. Try as you might to locate them, it’s impossible to see past giant, burly males with alarming wingspans. It’s a sea of dark hair and tan skin.

You push and push your way through, looking for a small exit through the gathered bodies. Your gown is trampled on, and you’re shoved this way and that, taking a few handfuls of stardust to your face and neck and arms. The feel of it is a cold contrast against your hot skin.

Just as you spot an opening to squeeze through, a male is careening into you and taking you down with him. It stuns you so much that you forget to brace yourself for impact. You’re about to tear your skin open against the sharp ground—

But huge, warm hands from behind catch you beneath your arms and keep you upright. Set you on your feet.

You turn, smacking straight into a broad expanse of chest. And a little higher up — long hair and wicked eyes. A taunting grin. Too-sharp teeth.

Tathaln Baralas seems to command the area around him so much that the fighting moves away from you both. A fact that makes him so incredibly smug.

“You’re welcome.” He sounds as rough and rugged as the mountain rock.

You clear your throat and incline your head in reluctant thanks. You’re not too keen on the idea of lingering for a chat with him.

But before you can so much as turn, his hand is fastening around your wrist. It’s not a tight grip, and yet it’s a warning — that it could become tighter if you tried to move.

“I’d like to go and find my friends—”

“I’ve been wracking my brain trying to work out why the High Lord is so taken by you.” He angles his head, and his eyes travel down, a smirk toying with his lips. “Besides a magnificent pair of tits, of course.”

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to rip your arm away. “You do him a disservice by thinking him so shallow—”

“Does Rhysand know you’re fucking his father?”

“You’re mistaken, my lord, and I’ll thank you to let go of me.”

“My daughter’s warning was clearly of no use. Perhaps I’ll be able to drive the message in harder. Whatever you’re planning—”

“There you are.” Out of seemingly nowhere, Rhysand’s voice saves the day. “I’ve been looking for you.”

The most minuscule, tiny beat passes — but Tathaln Baralas is no damn fool. With such blatant reluctance, he lets go of your wrist and takes a step back.

Rhys presses himself against your side, slinging an arm around your shoulders. He stares at Tathaln as he says, “My father wants everybody rounded up. It’s time for the entertainment he has planned.”

It’s a cloaked order, and you can see how much the Lord of Fenlaros wants to grit his teeth against it. But again — no damn fool.

“I’ll help gather everyone up.” He relents, and then he turns and pushes through fighting males as though they’re not there.

Rhys turns to you, concerned eyes taking you in. “Are you alright?”

“I will be.” You respond vaguely, linking your arm with his. “When this is all over, I will be.”

Little does he know, it’s not only the ball that you’re referring to.

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Like petulant children, the bustling males don’t want to go back under the mountain for the remainder of the ball. They want to stay outside and frolic in the fallen stardust and maybe fight or fuck in it, too.

But somehow, Fin commands their return. And the silence with which they now all stare up at the dais has you wondering if there’s anybody he can’t get to obey him.

Roza, probably. The thought brings a smile to your face.

Gods, you’d love to be with Roza right now, Spending quiet, quality time together. Blocking out the world in its entirety. You’re glad, so heavily pregnant as she is, that she’s not here tonight — but still, you can’t help wishing she was—

A loud clap sounds through the room, jolting you from your thoughts. You force your eyes into focus once more, and though you’re buried a few rows back, Fin finds your gaze immediately. He smiles.

“I wanted to thank each and every one of you for coming here tonight.” He addresses the room. “I understand that Illyrians have a way of life that you like to keep loyal to, and that integrating with other camps is not normally a done thing. I appreciate you keeping your minds open and straying from your traditions to honour this event.”

The crowd stirs and murmurs, and every person packed within it must be wondering why Tathaln Baralas is the only camp lord up on that dais with the High Lord while the others all congregate on the floor, common as muck. They are not privy to the things that you are. You have a horrible feeling that that is all about to change.

“While there have been a few…hiccups, this evening, I have mostly been impressed by how well you were able to interact.” Fin goes on. “That is exactly what this little experiment was intended for. Because that’s what this ball was — an experiment. I address each and every Illyrian when I say this: change is coming.”

No.

Your stomach bottoms out. Hands turn clammy in an instant.

Surely…surely he hasn’t just ignored everything you’ve said. Surely this hasn’t all been for nothing.

“You may recognise the male behind me.” He’s not looking at you now. His eyes skim the room, but they don’t stray in your direction. “Tathaln Baralas — Lord of the Fenlaros camp.”

At that, a small burst of cheers breaks out from one section of the room. Fenlarions, you can only assume. You’re too panicked to care.

Tathaln takes a step forward, not quite in line with Fin, but almost. He seems to be fighting back a smirk. And as you feel another heavy set of eyes on you, you look to your left — to a few steps down, where Kaeda stands. She eyes you with what must be triumph in her eyes, and she doesn’t bother to hide her smirk.

This…this has all gone very, very wrong. You’ve fucked up — failed. Perhaps even doomed the lives of countless people. Fin may have poured sweet sentiments into your ear and boosted your confidence, but you so clearly weren’t enough. Weren’t enough to appeal yourself to him, and weren’t enough to save Illyria as you know it.

You’re not at all certain that you aren’t going to faint. Whatever is about to be said or done, you don’t want to be here for it. You want to gather up Azriel and Cassian and Rhys and get the fuck out of there, far away from this, from him. You look frantically around for them, but you’ve lost them again. Can’t even glimpse the backs of their heads.

“A short while ago, the Lord of Fenlaros came to me with a suggestion. A proposition.” Fin slides his hands into his pockets; a strangely arrogant gesture that tells you just how at ease he is. “But before I tell you all about that, I would like to speak to you about somebody else. Another one of your own who I have recently had the delight of spending my time with. Getting to know.”

It takes a delayed moment for you to realise he’s staring at you once more.

Staring firmly, unflinchingly at you.

He extends a hand in your direction, and everybody — every single fucking person around you — turns to get a look, also.

“Sweet Y/N,” He cocks his head. Smiles. “Would you join me up here, please?”

You falter on the spot, forgetting entirely how to move. Every pair of eyes…the attention…it’s all too much. Everyone is looking at you. Everyone can see you, your scars.

“Y/N.” Fin repeats. “This is for you, after all.”

Someone shoves you in the back, and snickers titter around you, the sounds swimming from one ear to the other. On shaking legs, you slip between bodies. Bodies with faces attached that won’t stop looking at you, staring at you, wondering why you, of all people, have caught the High Lord’s attention. A lowly Illyrian female without any wings.

Numb from head to toe, you climb up onto the dais. Fin takes your trembling hand. Pulls you to his side.

Only then do you find Azriel, Cassian and Rhys in the crowd. All staring up at you with alarmed, horrified expressions. They can sense something very terrible is about to go down, too.

“For all of you who haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her — this is Y/N.” Fin speaks loudly, clearly, his tone clipped. “She hails from the Windhaven camp. She is Illyrian in her own right. She has a brain wise beyond her twenty years, and a heart of solid gold. She cares for Illyrians — for all of you. Cares for your futures.” A very, very potent pause. His expression changes — darkens. He purses his lips. “But you all do not care for her, do you?”

Silence. Nobody knows where this is going. There’s a slight movement in the crowd, and out of the corner of your eye, you see your friends pushing closer to the front.

“You cannot claim to care about her — about your own females — when you are willing to do this.”

So quickly, Fin’s hands are gripping your arms, and he’s wrenching you around on the spot. Forcing your back to them. Forcing them to swallow down the sight of your ruined back.

But your scars poking through the sheer fabric is not enough for him, it would seem. Those hands of his, gentle at times and dangerous at others, skate over your shoulders. Stop at the top of your back, where you hate so profoundly to be touched.

And he rips the fabric open like he’s cleaving air.

The cold air hits your exposed back, and surprised murmurs ripple through the room. Each and every one of them will have seen clipped wings before — but not this. Not the brutal hacking you were subjected to.

On instinct, you’re fighting against Fin, trying to turn, trying to hide. He holds you steady.

“Her own father did this to her.” He announces. “As so many of you intend to do to your own daughters, no doubt. Look at her. Look at how she suffered, and believe me when I say, again, change is coming.”

“Father.” Rhysand’s voice reaches you from behind, severe, outraged. “Stop this.”

It surprises you that Fin immediately turns you back around. But you are under no illusion that he’s listened to his son’s plea. He simply isn’t finished.

There is not one part of you that isn’t shaking. You stare firmly at your feet, refusing to meet any of the gazes pinned on you. Some may be pitying. Most will be delighted.

“I understand that Y/N may not appreciate what I just did. And rightfully so.” With a theatrical wave of his hand, the rip at the back of your dress is mended. But the damage is already done. “She has a right to those feelings. A thing I believe you Illyrian males do not understand. That your females feel. That they can rightfully be hurt, and they can rightfully want to be avenged. Y/N?”

You know he’s addressing you, asking you to look at him. But you can’t move. You can’t…can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop feeling like you want to throw up.

“Y/N.” He repeats, softer this time. “Look at me please.”

You pause.

And then you do.

You turn, and you look at him with an expression that will never promise forgiveness.

To his credit, he studies your face. It’s like he’s searching for an answer as to whether his little stunt was irredeemable. His eyes swallow your expression, and a moment passes between you. One that doesn’t include everybody else in this room.

You imagine you look hateful. You imagine you are sneering, and clenching your jaw, and allowing him to see that you will not stand for such disrespect from anybody, including him.

And he…he looks upon you like he wants the rest of the room to disappear. Like he wants nothing more than to steal you into his arms and spirit you away, far away from this.

You take a small step back.

“I got you a gift.” He says, too quietly. Extends a hand again.

You feel yourself shaking your head. You cannot speak. But this does not deter him. He retracts his hand and murmurs to somebody — somebody you can’t see around the roaring in your head — “The box, please.”

As blurred movement stirs in front of you, you angle yourself towards the crowd — towards your friends. You search their terrified faces without seeing them, and you know that they are just as powerless as you are. Even Rhysand. That throwing themselves in the mix may just make the situation worse.

And you don’t even know what the situation is. All you know is that your heart is thudding and your ears are screaming. All you know is that you feel…betrayed…by Fin making a spectacle of you like this. That your body and mind are having such violent reactions because your vulnerabilities, insecurities, may just be the evening’s entertainment that you’re supposed to somehow enjoy—

“Y/N.”

Your eyes snap back to the High Lord, and a tear escapes the corner of it. You pretend it doesn’t exist, even if Fin’s gaze tracks it and softens.

“For you.” He holds a box out to you.

For a moment, you weigh up the likelihood that you could just dart off the stage and make a run for it. Find somewhere to hide and cry. But as your hands extend outwards without you telling them to, you know it’s no use. You’re seeing this through, however reluctantly.

Your trembles are violent as you take the box into your hands — and almost drop it. It’s heavier than you’re expecting. Fin smiles.

Every single person in that room watches you slide the lid off the box.

Every single person in that room watches you peer inside — and drop it. Stagger back.

“What the fuck is this?” You choke. “What have you done?!”

There are murmurs, people angling to get a look, as Fin casually strolls over to that box. As he reaches in.

As he lifts your father’s severed head by his hair and holds it up like it’s a fucking show and tell. And grins at it.

Steeled Illyrian warriors who have been bred for violence scatter back, curses and noises rolling off their tongues.

“Allow this to be a lesson to each and every one of you.” Fin speaks loudly, entirely unperturbed by the head dangling from his fingertips. “That while your camps are overseen by your camp lords, I am still your High Lord, and I am always watching, and listening, and waiting to act, if necessary. This male wronged somebody I care for. The only fitting punishment was this.”

Without a care, he drops your father’s head back into the box and kicks it away. You stumble back, back, toppling off the dais. Somebody catches you.

“I am your High Lord.” Fin repeats, seemingly unaware of the panic roiling in his audience. “I do not take kindly to being used or manipulated. I do not take kindly to somebody presuming to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do with my court. And Illyria is part of my court — no matter how much you try to distance yourselves. You are under my jurisdiction. What happens to you is my call to make.”

For a split second, you can only hear certain words; used, manipulated, presuming to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. You think he’s addressing solely you, but he isn’t.

People are moving around you. Arms wrap around you. It takes a moment for you to register that it’s Azriel. That he’s tucking you between himself and Cassian and Rhys. They’re shielding you.

Fin is now pacing the dais, hands behind his back. “The Lord of Fenlaros spent months concocting –and perfecting — a self-serving scheme that he then presented to me, as though he has the authority to do so.” He stops, turning to Tathaln — a very pale Tathaln. “And while I agree there would be some benefits to what you proposed, your methods have pissed me off. And I don’t like being pissed off.”

Tathaln squares his massive shoulders. Steps forward. “I—”

“What gives you the right to delegate your daughter and sons to rival camps to do your bidding, without bringing your case to me first? I should have been your first port of call. I should have decided how this plan of yours should play out. Yet you schemed behind my back and tried to build power and gain favour in case I disagreed to your plan. So you could then build a cause against me.”

“My Lord, I assure you, that is not—”

“Yes — your Lord.” He reiterates.

And then quick as a flash, he’s drawing a sword.

Quick as a flash, it slices through the air and hacks Tathaln Baralas’s head clean off his neck.

It drops to the dais with a wet-sounding thwack. The rest of his body crumples to the floor.

You can’t breathe, or think, or hear. Can only stare at Tathaln’s open, glazed eyes, peering off into nothing. There are gasps and curses and panic. Hands claw at you. You can’t move.

And then a high-pitched, wailing scream rents the air, like nothing else you’ve ever heard. So loud, it snaps you out of your shock.

You turn, despite the hands that hold you firm and still. Through tear-blurred eyes, you glimpse Kaeda on her knees. Her beautiful face is screwed with despair. She stares at her father’s head, and she wails.

“Change is, indeed, upon us.” Fin says calmly, as though a river of blood is not pooling at his feet. “But it will be dealt by my hands, and my hands only.” He sheathes his blade once more. “This ball is over. You can all leave.”

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he strolls off the dais, tracking blood with each step. He disappears through a door without looking back.

And then chaos is erupting. Kaeda is still screaming. People are scrambling to book it out of there. You turn back to Tathaln’s head. Turn to your father’s, still in that box. You think you might be sick—

“Y/N.” Hands grasp your face tightly. Azriel is staring into your eyes, pleading with you to stare back. “We need to get out of here, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

You open your mouth, and a strangled noise escapes you. “I…I can’t…move.”

“You can. You can. Come.” His arms band around you. And though he holds you strong, you can feel that he’s shaken, too. “We’re leaving before the High Lord comes back. I’m getting you out of here. Hold onto me.”

You have no choice other than to comply. But your grip is as weak as you are. You can’t stop yourself fucking shaking.

You don’t hear the words that Azriel speaks to Cassian and Rhys. All you can hear is Kaeda’s screaming. All you can do is stare over Azriel’s shoulder at your father’s lifeless face. That face didn’t once look upon you with love in twenty years. Now, it certainly never will.

You keep on looking until Azriel spirits you both out of there, and the coppery tang of blood follows you all the way back to Windhaven.

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“Please try to drink some of that.”

Azriel perches before you, his eyes fixed upon the steaming cup between your hands. You can’t remember how long ago he handed it to you, or how long ago you made it back to Roza’s cottage, or how long ago you watched Fin cleave Tathaln’s head from his body.

The fire is roaring, and more than one blanket is draped around you, but you can’t get any warmth to seep into your bones. You shiver from head to toe.

“It’ll warm you up.” Az reaches out, pressing a hand to your cheek. “I added a drop of whiskey to take the edge off.”

“I need more than a drop.” Cassian’s voice comes from behind the sofa, where he’s been pacing pretty much since he entered. “What the fuck was that? Your father is insane, Rhys.”

Rhys hasn’t breathed a word — that you’re aware of, anyway. Just sat in the armchair and stared into space. 

But his eyes shutter now, and he murmurs, “I know.”

“Absolutely insane.” Cass repeats. The pacing continues, up and down and up and down. “I didn’t realise you’d gotten so close to him, Y/N.”

As if you need reminding.

Fin had made it clear that in some fucked up way, everything he did tonight was for you. He’d slaughtered two people for you. You’d wanted to stop Tathaln, but not like that…never like that.

A tear rolls down your cheek, and you hear Azriel utter a quiet warning to Cass. Cass stops his pacing.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He says, softer. “I just…didn’t realise there was so much going on while you were in Velaris.”

“I was trying to help.” You whisper. “I didn’t mean for…I didn’t mean—”

“None of what happened tonight was your fault.” Azriel moves to your side. He pulls you close against him, arms soothingly wrapping around you. “Don’t you dare start thinking that. The High Lord does what he wants.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. What if he’s coming for me next? I was scheming, too.”

Az growls quietly. “He can try. He won’t get close.”

“My father doesn’t want you dead.” Rhys rests his head back against the chair. He doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re wondering if he’s replaying the picture of bloodshed as much as you are. “If he did, he would have killed you there and then, alongside Kaeda’s father and…yours.”

Cassian spits on the ground. “And may your father never know a shred of peace.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, allowing yourself to slump fully against Az’s body, be supported by it. You’re not sure you can hold yourself up right now.

And it’s not that you disagree with Cass’s statement…you’re just not sure what to feel right now.

You hated your father. Despised him. But—

But that kill was supposed to be yours.

Fin had taken that from you in some fucked up display of…of affection, you supposed. Maybe even of ownership.

“He may not want me dead,” you whisper, “but I don’t think he’s finished with me. He’s surely not going to let me come back to Windhaven as if nothing happened. And what of Roza and the babe? Are they safe with him?”

Rhys gives a slow, meditative shake of his head. He’s exhausted. You’re all exhausted. The smell of blood clings to you. “I checked in with her. Despite what he did, they’re always safe with him. As for everything else…I don’t know what he intends.”

“Change is coming.” Finally, Cassian sits down. “That’s what he said. Over and over again.”

You don’t want change. Not the kind that Fin is probably thinking. You don’t want extravagance or luxury. You just want…this.

This little cottage. Your friends. Your love. Your simple, quiet life.

It feels like it hangs in the balance more than ever.

Eyes open, you’re staring at everything you may just lose. But the second you squeeze them shut, you see such thick, alarming red. Hear the thwack of Tathaln’s head falling. Hear the carnal scream that rips from Kaeda’s throat.

Your heartbeat picks up, and tears prick in your eyes — but Azriel’s arms tighten around you.

“Easy.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “I’m right here. All three of us are.”

You know he can’t possibly be as calm as he’s making out. But he’s doing it for you — staying strong for you.

“You should try to sleep, my love.” He murmurs into your hair. “We all should.”

You focus on his warmth, his scent, but the tears keep coming. “I’m not sure I can.”

“Try.” He kisses you again. “For me.”

All you can manage is a relenting nod. And that’s all it takes for him to slide down and pull you with him. He holds you so tightly, as though he’s terrified of letting go. He bundles you against him, wraps a blanket around you both. It can’t be comfortable for him, his wings, but he lays there like it is.

A soft snoring from the armchair tells you that Rhys has already succumbed to exhaustion. You bunch your fingers in the front of Az’s shirt and force your eyes to close, even despite the horrors that await you behind them.

But after a while, you’re aware of the sound of Cassian traipsing to the kitchen. Reaching for the bottle of whiskey that sits mostly drained on the side.

And you realise that in Azriel’s arms, you’d started to drift off, too.

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You wake with a gasping start.

It’s pitch black in the room, besides the dying embers of the fire. Their muted orange glow illuminates the space enough for you to glimpse Rhys, still fast asleep in the chair. Cassian is sprawled out and dozing on the floor.

Any one of you could have stowed away upstairs in the privacy of a bedroom, but…you need each other right now. Each other’s comfort.

You don’t know what the time is; the middle of the night, judging by how dark it is. But there’s a lot of noise and foot traffic that’s carried past the house. You assume it must be Illyrians who have attempted to drown the night’s events in alcohol and are now skulking home.

You try to block it all out. Roll over. But as arms tighten around you and pull you flush against a warm body, you glance up to find Azriel awake, already staring at you.

You stare back.

That’s all you do for a while. Just…stare. Drink each other in. He is so beautiful. So brilliant. Your friend, lover and so much more.

“Hi.” He eventually whispers.

You scan his face. Murmur back, “Hi.”

“You should be sleeping.”

“So should you.”

A small shake of his head. Strands of hair fall from where they were earlier slicked back. The grandeur of the ball seems like eons ago, now.

“I can’t.” He says. “I’m worried about you.”

It’s rare…for him to lay vulnerable thoughts and feelings out like that. You study him again. And you want to reassure him, tell him you’re doing okay — but you’re not. Not right now. And don’t you owe him honesty in return?

“I’m scared.” You admit. Keeping your voice hushed doesn’t stop it from cracking.

Azriel leans down, dropping his forehead against yours. His hand rests at the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles.

After a moment, he asks, “What went on in Velaris?”

You don’t know what to say. It was so easy, in the City of Starlight, to pretend to be someone else. Someone that Fin would desire and eventually trust. So easy to follow a plan unflinchingly.

But back in the frozen grips of Windhaven, you do not feel like that person. You do not know her.

“You said you were scheming.” Az presses. “What went on?”

“I told you…I was trying to convince Fin to reject Tathaln’s idea—”

“Convince him how?”

You swallow. Because you hate the truth. Back in the ordinariness of your Illyrian environment, your behaviour seems so, so bad.

“Did he touch you,” Az breathes.

“No.” You immediately shake your head. “I made him want me. I made him want me so badly that he would trust me and listen to me. I never wanted him to kill for me. And I never wanted him. Every single second I spent there, I just wanted to come back to you—”

His lips fold over yours, and he breathes deep and slow. You waste no time in kissing him back. That kiss is truth, and it’s love.

“Only you, Az.” You whisper as you pull away. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

But he’s not done with you. His mouth is on yours again, and he promises into it, “I’ve only ever wanted you, too.”

Not merely wanted, but needed. And you need each other now. It doesn’t matter at all that you’re not alone in the room — that Cass and Rhys are sleeping mere footsteps away.

Your hands are on each other, grasping at each other, and your bodies come together. It’s unhurried and quiet. Azriel’s eyes don’t leave yours once, from the second he slides into you and you both gasp onto each other’s mouths.

Every slow thrust is one of love. Every one of them is a promise.

“Whatever happens,” he pants quietly, pleasure straining his voice, “whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

“Together.” You vow. A tear escapes the corner of your eye, and Azriel leans in to kiss it away.

He holds you as both your climax and his build together. He holds you as you bury into his shoulder to stop you from crying out. He holds you as you clench around his cock and he spills every last drop into you.

And he holds you as you catch your breaths and press your foreheads together, exhaustion beckoning you once more. He’s held you through so much, and he’ll continue to do so to whatever end.

Only when your eyelids are threatening to close does he brush his mouth against yours once more. And he says again, “We’ll face it together.”

There’s a stirring behind you. Cassian rolls over. Croaks out, “Can you quit fucking?”

And then he snores and he’s back to sleep, the fire warming his wings.

You and Az stare at each other and pause. And despite it all — everything that’s happened tonight — you both break into laughter. It vibrates through his chest and into you, the feeling pleasant, reassuring.

He kisses your forehead, a smile still ghosting his lips.

It stays there as he drifts to sleep.

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“What the fuck is that?”

Your groggy eyes wrench open and squint at the weak daylight that filters through the cottage. Both Rhys and Cass have bolted upright. Az, too, is jerked awake.

A thumping lands on the front door, urgent, panicked. Anxiety floods your gut.

“I’m coming, fucking hell.” Rhysand clambers to his feet. He’s dishevelled and uncoordinated as he clambers to the door and rips it open.

“Rhys,” Zakai pants from the other side. “What the fuck is your father playing at?”

“What—”

It’s then that the sound hits you all. The sound of authoritative voices calling out. Of people shouting — arguing — back.

Rhys follows Zakai out of the door. You, Azriel and Cassian share a glance before the three of you are also following.

And what you find outside is…chaos.

The sight of Illyrians fighting is nothing new, but males are being ripped from their houses. Children and wives watch, tears staining their cheeks. Paper and clothes and belongings litter the ground as if they’ve been stolen and discarded. The sky is shadowed by the temporary night of soaring Illyrians

Your wide eyes swivel to a roof a few cottages down — where a male stands upon its tiles, his voice bellowing out. He’s leather-clad and puffed up by his own importance — one of Devlon’s cronies, you think.

He seems unperturbed by the pushback on the ground — the gathering, angered males, as he addresses anyone and everyone around him.

“If I call your name, you’re coming with me! You pack the bare necessities — we leave for Steelshore in thirty minutes!” He announces. “Rahu Sepheron, Venia Char, Falkon Galos, Telarion Krin—”

“He’s lost his damn mind.” Rhys grits his teeth, shaking his head.

“He’s actually doing it.” Ice shoots through your veins, nothing to do with the brisk spring morning. “The High Lord is actually splitting everyone up.”

“Zakai Athalar—”

“Fuck this.” Rhys grabs Zakai’s hand, turning to you, Az, Cassian. “Everyone get back inside. None of us are doing anything or going anywhere until I’ve spoken to my father.”

You don’t hesitate to turn on your feet and pull Azriel with you. You want nothing more than to hole yourself up inside the cottage and pretend that none of this is happening. That anxiety and panic isn’t turning your stomach—

But the second you step foot inside, you’re halting in the doorway so suddenly that Cassian smacks into you from behind.

Fin sits at the table, cleaning his nails with a dagger.

He drinks in the sight of you greedily. Glances down at yours and Azriel’s joined hands. Smiles.

“Do you want to tell me what the fuck you’re playing at?” Rhys pushes past you, storming over. “What the hell is all this?”

“This?” Fin sits back. “This, Rhysand, is the reality of war.”

His son grits his teeth. Clenches his fists. “What.”

“War is upon us. Days, weeks, months away. People will have to fight and people will have to die. It is my duty as High Lord to take necessary action to ensure we come out victorious. If I have to sever some relationships for that outcome, then so be it.”

Cassian barrels forward, nothing but anger given flesh. “And what is this supposed necessary action? Tearing families apart?”

Even he, with his quick temper and loose tongue, would never normally address the High Lord in such a way. But Cassian cares. He’s passionate about what’s right.

And what Fin is doing is not right.

But Fin vaguely smiles and picks an invisible piece of dirt from his jacket. “If need be, Cassian, yes.” He says. “I’m delegating Illyrians where they will serve me best in this war. That includes your cosy little unit here.”

“If we are truly at war,” Azriel says quietly, dangerously, “now is not the time to play games.”

“Who’s playing games, shadowsinger?” Fin shrugs. “Not me.”

You don’t think it’s accidental, the way the High Lord’s eyes slide to you in that moment. You look away, refuse to hold his gaze. You could swear he chuckles quietly as he stands up and tucks his chair in.

“So here’s how it’s going to be.” He rests his forearms atop of the chair. “Rhysand — you will be commanding a legion in Camp Theriel.” He glances — barely — at Zakai. “I do believe your lover has already received a summons to leave for Camp Steelshore, so he should probably run along, lest he gets left behind.”

“Father—”

“Cassian.” He interrupts. “You will remain here, in Windhaven — as a common foot soldier in this war.”

“A foot soldier?” Cass spits. “That’s beneath my rank and you know it. You’re only doing this because you’re threatened by Az, Rhys and I being together. How powerful we are. Everyone knows that.”

Fin simply tsks. “Watch yourself, foot soldier. You don’t want to slip further down the ranks, now, do you—”

“Fin.” Finally, you find your voice. You step forward, despite Azriel trying to yank you back. You stare pleadingly at the High Lord.

He turns to you. His eyes sweep your face. His expression seems to go somewhat…quiet.

You had begun to respect this male in some roundabout way. You don’t think you’d ever have fully trusted him, but…there was an understanding, for a time. An allegiance of sorts.

You’d seen a side to him that so few did. And though it’s nowhere to be seen now…you have to believe that it’s still under there somewhere. You have to.

“Please don’t do this.” You whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “Please. This is our home. Our family.”

At the first sight of a tear rolling down your face, Fin swallows — hard. He clenches his fists at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and wipe it away.

It seems like so, so long that he stares at you. So long that he seems to be fighting something internally.

So long that a small glimmer of hope ignites in you that perhaps he cares enough to listen.

But then his eyes are shuttering, and he’s looking away. He says, stiffly, “We all have to make sacrifices in war.”

“Fin—”

“Rhysand will go to Camp Theriel. Cassian will stay here.” His eyes open again. He looks from you, to Azriel, back to you. “You and the shadowsinger are coming to Velaris with me.”

“What?!”

“You’d better say your goodbyes.” He squares his shoulders, not looking at you at all, now. “It’ll be a very, very long time before you all see each other again. If you see each other again.”

You open your mouth — to say what, you don’t know.

But Fin disappears before your eyes, leaving you — your family — alone.

What sounds far, far away is Cassian’s outraged ranting. Rhysand cursing his father. Zakai trying to talk to him, calm him down.

You and Azriel are the only two who don’t say a thing. Just stand there in silence.

Because you know you can curse all you like. You can shout and throw things and damn Fin to a miserable existence. It may bring you some temporary reprieve.

But it will not change a thing.

Fin is your High Lord. His mind is made up. This is just the next round in his game.

Your family is being cleaved apart. You stand in that cottage where you all slept in each other’s company — not realising it might be the last time, ever.

Your head roars and your tears keep on coming. But you can do nothing but stare at Azriel. He stares at you, too.

You and the shadowsinger are coming to Velaris with me.

It makes you sick to your stomach. Probably makes Azriel sick to his stomach, also.

But your locked, silent, crestfallen gazes communicate one sacred promise to each other.

Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.

Authors note: Oooooof how are we all feeling? Good? Bad? Sad? Mad? Tempted to commit arson?

I just wanted to say thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. What started out as a fun little smut piece turned into a whole story I didn’t even know I had in me, but I’ve enjoyed every bit of it — especially hearing from all of you. Your likes, reblogs, comments and asks have meant the world to me through this. Thank you so much for the wonderful responses 🫶🏻

For anyone who didn’t see my answer to an ask regarding this last part — I understand it might not be the ending everyone wanted or expected, but I felt there was still so much potential in the story that I wanted to leave it open to — perhaps — write a sequel at some point. I have so many ideas, and I’m totally willing to talk about it and answer any questions about it you have any!

Thank you, again, for all the support, darlings. And I truly hope you enjoyed Practice On Me. 💕

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[wintfleur]

ꔫ clingy lover and sunrises

°. — pairings ( lando norris x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( what’s better than watching the sunrise with your pretty boyfriend? )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; kissing. wc; 3k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( this is totally based off this tiktok, I watched it and fell even more in love with lando, didn’t even know that was possible. I’m not fully happy with the ending, i feel like it’s rushed. But I do hope you enjoy it! Cant wait to write more of lando, I have a longer lando fic in the works! I think soon I’ll open my requests )

 You were lying in bed waiting for your boyfriend to get out of the shower and join you in bed, when you saw the TikTok. You were a resident and happily lived on LandoTok or whatever it was called. You loved watching all the edits of your boyfriend the fans would tag you in, the captions were always so creative. It was also hilarious seeing all the replies you would get when you would comment on them, sometimes you would even tag Lando, that's when it really got fun. 

You were doing your daily Tik Tok scroll checking all the edits you were tagged in, liking and commenting on a few that were of you and Lando. You stopped on a TikTok, a smile forming on your sleepy face when you hear his voice. You weren't familiar with the video they were clipping, listening to him say that he sleeps in more and doesn't see the sunset much, makes your eyes widen with an idea. What your boyfriend said was true, he really did sleep in a lot. Wouldn't it be romantic to watch the sunrise with him? You think with a smile. 

You click onto the comments and your smile widens when you see all the comments, most of them being about how good he looks, he did really look good. You giggle when you see a comment saying “I mean can you blame him for being tired, I would be too if y/n was my gf ;)” oh god you loved Lando’s fans. 

“What are you giggling about?” Your boyfriend's teasing tone brought you out of your trance of looking through the comments. You hear the satisfying click of you turning off your phone and you look up just in time to see your boyfriend walking out of the bathroom and jumping into the bed and laying on his stomach next to you. You set your phone on the bedside table and bring your hand to play with his newly blow-dried hair. Lando lets out a hum of appreciation at your touch. 

“Your fans are pretty funny” you whisper as you move to lay on your side, facing him. Lando opens his eyes and breaks out into a smile when the two of you lock eyes. He also moves to lay on his side, he brings one of his hands up to grab yours that was still playing with his hair. You watch as he brings your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your palm before he brings it under his chin, snuggling it. 

“Will you tell me about it tomorrow? I can't keep my eyes open” Lando's sleepy voice makes you want to squeeze him, he's just so adorable. You move your hand that Lando isn't clinging to and move some of his hair from his face. Your eyes looking over your boyfriend's face, watching as his eyes flutter close and his face snuggle closer to his pillow. 

“Yeah, I'll tell you all about it” you tell him with a smile, your mind thinking about your idea for tomorrow. You make a move to sit up, but you halt your movement when you feel Lando pull you back, you look to see him giving you a frown. “Where are you going?” 

“I'm just going to turn off the light” You giggle quietly, sleepy Lando was absolutely adorable. Lando lets out a huff before letting go of you, you get out of bed and walk over to the wall and turn off the light switch, quickly rushing back into bed and getting under the sheets. Turning your head to face Lando when he lets out a chuckle. 

“It's so cute how you still get scared that a monster is going to grab your feet from under the bed” Lando laughs as he scoots closer to you and wraps his arm around your midsection, resting his head next to yours. You look at him, the moonlight peeking through the curtains illuminated his face just enough for you to see him, he was so beautiful. You softly nudge him with your hip before saying “So do you.” 

“Goodnight baby” Lando mumbles and snuggles closer to you after he lets out a tired chuckle from your words, he was so close that you could feel his breath on your neck. You let out a hum and close your eyes, the sound of his soft breaths lulling you to sleep. “Goodnight Lan” 

You were used to waking up early, so you had no problem waking up at 6 am, 25 minutes before the sunrise. Thinking about your plan last night you thought it would be super easy to do, completely forgetting one thing. Your clingy boyfriend. When you woke up the first thing you noticed was the soft breaths of your boyfriend on your neck and the tight grip he had on your waist, your legs intertwined. If you weren't so determined to have a sweet morning with Lando, you would have closed your eyes and went back to sleep, enjoying your boyfriend's touch. 

So, you ignored the voice in your head telling you to stay in bed in Lando's arms, and you carefully and slowly detach yourself from him and get out of bed. You have to stop yourself from leaning down and softly peppering your boyfriend's face in kisses when you see the sleepy pout on his lips. You grab your phone off the bedside table before quietly walking out of your room, surprised that you didn't wake him up. 

You quietly hum to a tune that has been stuck in your head as you walk through your apartment. You turn on the light switch to the kitchen before setting your phone on the counter and walking over to the pantry to pull out some ingredients. You moved across your kitchen quietly, being careful not to make too much sound and wake up Lando, and before you knew it you had two hot mugs in your hands. One hot chocolate for you, and one hot tea for Lando. 

Your sock covered feet softly padded against the hallway of your apartment as you walked slowly, careful not to spill any of the drinks and careful not to drop your phone that was squeezed between your armpit. When you walk into your room your eyes immediately go to your bed, where you see Lando holding onto your pillow, his legs all sprawled out and still asleep. You carefully set the two mugs on your bedside table, along with your phone before sitting at the side of your bed, facing your sleeping boyfriend. 

“Lando love, it's time to wake up” You spoke sweetly as you brought your hand up to his hair, softly playing with his curls, being careful not to get your fingers stuck in his messy hair. You only get a reaction from him a few moments later when he lets out a tired groan and nuzzles his face into your pillow, a muffled no passing through his lips. You can't help but giggle at his cuteness. 

“Lando please, i want to show you something” You continue to play with his hair, your thumb softly caressing his cheekbone, luring him out of his sleepy state. Lando lets out another tired groan as he rolls onto his back, his right hand moving from under the pillow to rest on your bare thigh. You watch as he flutters his eyes open, blinking a few times to get the tired out of his eyes. 

Lando yawns before looking up at you with a small smirk, his morning voice deep “Say please again.” 

“Please get up my love” you sweet talk with a smile, leaning down and peppering his cheek and jaw in soft doting kisses. Lando smiles and closes his eyes, a tired chuckle escaping his lips at the feeling of your lips on his face. He moves his hand that was at his side and his hand that was on your thigh and wraps them around your waist. Pulling you down against him. You let out a surprised giggle at the sudden pull. Your face flush against his neck. 

“Only because you asked so nicely” Lando whispers as he kisses the crown of your head, one of his hands moving up to play with your hair. You knew you had to get up, and you knew the longer you snuggled with Lando; the harder it would be to get him up. But his arms were so comfy, he was so warm and smelt nice, you nuzzled your face into his neck for a few moments, closing your eyes and just relishing in the feeling of being so close to your lover. But the smell of your hot chocolate reminds you of your mission, you place a soft kiss on his neck before sitting up, trying to detach yourself from your clingy boyfriend. 

“No, it's too early, come back to bed” your sleepy boyfriend whined as he watched you get off the bed and walk over to the balcony you had in your room, pulling back the long white curtains and unlocking the balcony doors before opening them. The cool breeze of the early air nips at your bare legs and sends a chill down your spine. The smell of the ocean hits your nose, and the sound of the waves fill your room. 

Lando lays on his side and sits up on his elbow, his eyes not leaving yours. The moonlight was still shining, and you looked absolutely beautiful under it. So beautiful that he just wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you back to bed, showing you how much he loves you. But he noticed the determined look in your eyes and was thoroughly curious on why you woke him up so early and why you're so happy, so he stopped himself from doing so. 

You feel Lando's stare on your back, your lower, lower back. You roll your eyes with a smile before turning to face him, you watch as his eyes shoot up to your face, an innocent smile appearing on his lips once he realizes he was caught staring at your ass. You walked over to your bed and sat on the edge, crossing your legs. Lando sat up and leaned back against the headboard when he watched you pick up his favorite mug and hold it out for him. 

“So, are you going to tell me why we're up so early?” Lando asked you with a sweet smile after he took a small sip of the tea. Your mug of hot chocolate warmed your hands and soothed your body as you swallowed it. The cold breeze chills your room faster than you expected. Lando notices goosebumps on your bare legs and uses the hand that wasn't holding his mug, to cover your legs with the blanket. 

“I saw this tik Tok about you last night” You start as you set your mug back on the side table, licking your lips. Lando raises his eyebrow as he takes another sip of his tea, curious on where this was going to go. There was no way he could guess what the tik Tok would be about. 

“You were saying how you sleep in more so you don’t get to watch the sunrise, so I thought that maybe we could watch the sunrise together” You finally confessed your plan, your hands playing with the blanket covering your lower half. It was silent for a few moments, besides the distant sound of the ocean and you watched as a big smile spread on your boyfriend's lips, him setting down his mug too. 

“Fuck you’re so cute” Lando cooed as he stopped leaning against the headboard, sitting up so he could be closer to you. He took your hands that were playing with the blanket and intertwined his fingers with yours, his eyes not leaving yours. You could see a faint blush forming on his face, but Lando couldn't help it. He loved when you planned cute things like this, it made him feel so loved.

 Lando leaned closer to you and softly pecked your lips quickly before saying “I would love to watch the sunrise with you baby.” 

You smiled widely and leaned closer to him, unlacing one of your hands with his and cupping his cheek. Softly caressing his cheek with your thumb before you close your eyes and sealing your lips in a kiss. Lando eagerly kissed you back, his hand that was holding yours moves to hold onto your waist, pulling you closer to him. You took charge of the kiss, finding yourself getting lost in the taste of your boyfriend's lips. 

It took everything in him to pull away from the kiss, breathing heavy against your lips as he whispered, “If you keep kissing me like that, we’re going to miss the sunrise.” 

The bashful smile you give him in response makes him giggle and softly kiss the tip of your nose before saying “c'mon, let's get comfy.” 

After another cold chill came through the open balcony doors, the two of you decided that it would be better to stay in bed and watch, instead of sitting on your balcony. After a few minutes of trying to find the best position and many giggles, you finally found the perfect position. 

“This is nice” Lando spoke quietly as he glanced down at you, before looking back at the changing color sky, the orange slowly peeking through. Lando sat in the middle of the bed while you sat between his legs, leaning your head back against his chest and cuddling one of his arms to your chest. His other arm at his side, his hand absentmindedly caressing the skin of your side, under your (his) shirt. 

“What, being behind me?” You responded in a playful tone. 

“My favorite place to be,” Lando says in a flirty tone, leaving a wet kiss on the side of your forehead. You smile and tilt your head to look up at him, the sunrise rises, and an orange glow appears on his face. He was so pretty; you could stare at him forever. Lando felt your stare and looked down at you, a shy smile appearing when he saw how you looked at him. With so much love. 

“You're supposed to be watching the sunrise, not me baby” Lando teases you playfully, nudging you softly with his leg. He was silently praying that you couldn't feel or hear how fast his heart was beating, it wasn't fair how flustered you could make him. 

“I can't help that I have such a pretty boyfriend,” you replied, copying Lando’s flirty tone from earlier. You could feel his beating heartbeat against your chest, the rhythmic beat was comforting. Your fingers were absentmindedly tracing random patterns on his arm, your focus was on the changing color sky. It was so peaceful; the smell and the sound of the ocean was soothing. And the warmth of being held by Lando made it even better. 

Lando didn't reply, his eyes were on the sky and the ocean. It was a beautiful sight, a sight he definitely would want to see again, preferably with you in his arms again. He didn't think that he would find watching the sunrise so enjoyable, but he was pretty sure the reason why was his pretty girlfriend that was in his arms, and the fact that you planned this. 

“We should do this again” Lando whispered, his hand on your hip rising to caress the skin of your stomach, smirking to himself when he felt the goosebumps appear on your skin from his touch. He loved how reactive you were to his touch, but to be fair he was the same way with your touch. 

“Tomorrow?” You ask him, tilting your head to look up at him, a teasing smile on your lips. You already knew his answer, your boyfriend loved his sleep. And seeing by the way he nervously giggles and bites his lips; you knew you were right. 

“Uhh, maybe the day after?” 

“Okay, the day after” you say between your own laughter, tilting your body a little so you could face him more. Lando’s hold on your midsection tightens and he pulls you closer to his chest. Lando’s attention on the sky quickly changes when he sees the smile on your face, you look so happy. He couldn't look away, he watched as you rested your head on his chest, you were still staring at the now ending sunrise, the light from the sun creating an orange glow on your face. He smiled when he noticed you playing with his bracelets, a habit that you had picked up on the few years you have been together. 

“I love you” Lando whispers in your ear, his tone full of love. You look away from the now blue sky to your boyfriend, locking eyes with the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen. You smile and let go of his wrist, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. Lando can see the look in your eyes, so he leans down and captures your lips in a soft kiss, you pour all of your love into that kiss, wanting him to feel it all.

 Lando hesitantly pulls away, resting his forehead on yours as you both try to catch your breath from the kiss. You open your eyes and look up at him, your thumb gently touching his bottom lip causes him to open his eyes and look down at you. 

“I love you more” You whisper back, a smile on your lips. Lando breaks out into a smile and wraps both of his arms around your waist and laying back, causing you to lay on top of him. A surprised yelp escapes past your parted lips at the fast movement and Lando can't stop the laughter from spilling from his, when he hears the cute sound. You hide your face in his chest in embarrassment, but when you hear Lando let out a snort you are quick to join him in laughter. 

And in that moment of the two of you cuddling and laughing at each other, you silently thanked that TikTok. Because they created a memory that you would never forget.

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan )

[norrizzandpia]

My Name (LN4)

Summary: Y/n and Lando have a painful past together. When they go their separate ways and are left to pick up the pieces, Lando realizes he can no longer hear the woman he loved’s name without feeling deeply ashamed.

Warnings: this is the most angsty thing i ever written. TOXIC!LANDO TO THE MAX, lots of language, insinuations to sex, this is absolutely horrific i am so sorry its very painful and sad NO HAPPY ENDING (word count is a little over 4k)

Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?

Some people had chapters they could never bring themselves to read out loud. Lando’s painfully silent chapter was Y/n. His nights were swallowed whole by the looks on her face when he let her down once more, the moment when she first thought he didn’t care about her in the way she did. Y/n was a recurring nightmare and a sobering remembrance for him.

FIVE YEARS PRIOR

“Lando, I have someone I want you to meet.” Max murmured to him as they glided through the crowd of rich sponsors. His best friend giggled under his breath as the groups separated like a sea, revealing the most beautiful woman.

From the moment he saw her, Lando knew he had to have her, “Please tell me it’s her.”

Max shook his head, his body lighting up as Y/n smiled at him and hugged him tightly. The two turned to the racer, still grinning, “This is Y/n. Friend from London.”

Lando thought she was perfect, down to the teeth peeking behind her upturned lips. His hand extended out for her hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

”You as well.” Her voice was sultry, soft. Her hand fit right in the palm of his. Her body drawn to him, his to hers. Lando wanted her in his bed yesterday.

Sensing some sort of tension, knowing it was sexual, Max slid from the grasp of Y/n. He clipped his head down as a form of goodbye before leaving the two to turn from strangers to friends, maybe more in store.

The beginning of Lando’s favorite part of his life and the downfall of whoever he was before he met her.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Whether it was because of her overwhelming, albeit attractive, confidence or the fact that she was Max’s friend, Lando didn’t ask Y/n out right away. Instead, he tiptoed around her, so did she, but he only stopped when picturing her all the time got to be boring. She only stopped when he showed up at her door with flowers, ready for their date.

“I love pink roses.” She smiled, lightly taking the bouquet from his hands and disappearing into her apartment.

He closed the door when he stepped in to follow her. His feet took him to her kitchen, where she leaned over the counter and filled a vase. His eyes bounced around the walls, peeking out into the living room to see heaps and blankets and pillows.

His hands in his pockets, “I hoped you would.”

She thought it was supposed to be a romantic gesture. Lando’s hands were touching the curve of her waist before he finished his sentence, his mouth next to her ear, “I’m glad you do.”

She made the mistake of turning around, part of her would later wonder if that was giving him the wrong idea.

Still, his lips met hers in a heated kiss, his body pushing hers further into the hard granite. She had been attracted to him from the start, gotten to know him over the two months he hadn’t actively tried to pursue her. She really liked him. That was the reasoning which led herself to being wrapped up in sheets with him a half hour later.

They never made it to that first date.

PRESENT

Lando’s eyes burned with all the flashing lights. Even after a race win, the joy could never subside the anxiety he got from all the press.

The first reporter, her name tag reading Clara, beamed at him. It reminded him of Y/n’s perfect teeth.

“Congratulations, Lando, on an incredible race! How are you feeling right now?” She spoke quickly. She pushed her microphone into his face.

His hands gripped the railing in front of him, “Amazing! This feeling will never get old.”

Her face dropped slightly as she glanced behind her, to the cameraman he presumed, “We would love to talk more about your stellar race, but we do want to ask for your thoughts on the allegations surrounding Y/n Y/l/n over hostile workplace behavior.”

His heart squeezed. He wished people knew her. Not the girl he ruined, but the woman he knew she still was deep down, past all the things that happened between them. His cheeks flushed, “Y/n is an amazing person. She has a kind heart. I just hope people can see that.”

He prayed that Clara would drop the subject. Lando would kill to clear Y/n’s name for her, maybe that would makeup for all the pain he caused, but she would never give him the light of day, even for that. People associated him with her and it tore at his insides. There wasn’t a day that went by that the taste of her name in his mouth didn’t feel like a type of betrayal.

Clara’s eyebrows moved up, “So, you think the allegations are false?”

He huffed, “I’m not speaking about the allegations. I’m simply speaking about the woman I knew.”

Whoever she was now, he didn’t know enough to comment.

FOUR YEARS PRIOR

“That was great.” Lando breathed, his chest rising and falling quickly from beside her.

She laughed, “Happy for you.”

His body turned to the side, his head propped up by his arm, “It was nice having you here.”

She was quiet for a moment, trying to decipher what that sentence implied. She thought she knew, she just didn’t want to face it.

Y/n’s hand traced his arm, “It was a good time.”

Lando pulled away from her, slipping from bed and pulling his pants back on. Loud and clear, she thought.

Still, she tried. Pathetically. Her shirt slid over her body as she grumbled, “Do you wanna go get some food?”

From her view of his back, she saw him tense, “Uh, I can’t, Y/n. Sorry. I’m super busy right now.”

She sighed softly, too quiet for him to hear. He turned around, fully dressed now. She stood, shirt and underwear on with no towel to clean herself. Completely rejected. A small piece of her heart chipped away.

She nodded, “Okay, yeah, no problem. I get it.”

He rushed out of the room, “Yeah, thanks! Feel free to let yourself out! I’ve got some errands to run!”

The door slammed shut immediately after. She took a moment in the silence to gather her messy mind. Maybe he was genuinely busy. Maybe he didn’t mean it that way. He said it was nice having her there.

He couldn’t have meant this in a mean way.

Like any girl in love with someone they thought they were too unworthy of having, the excuses began.

ONE MONTH LATER

Deja Vu flooded Y/n’s senses as Lando rolled off her body. The sinking feeling that her time with him was over mixed with the familiarity and it proved to be a horrific experience.

Her hand reached out to grab her pants that had been discarded on the floor when his voice rang out.

“Do you wanna go get food?” He asked, head turning to look at her as if it was the most regular thing.

Her hand stopped just above her jeans, “What?”

Lando sat up from bed, no longer in a rush to throw his clothes on, “Do you want to go get food with me?”

Some place within herself ridiculed her for nodding her head so eagerly. It was beginning to feel like she was trying to earn his love.

His hand around her waist moved to link in her palm and she finally felt like something to him. When he sat across from her at the quiet and secluded diner they found five minutes after leaving his apartment, his eyes bore into hers. He studied her like a thing he loved.

Maybe he finally did.

PRESENT

When Lando closed the door to Max’s apartment, he was met with hushed and frantic whispers. He walked slowly down the hall toward his best friend’s voice, clearly in distress.

“Y/n, I don’t understand that can’t be true. You’re not that person.” He gave, hand clutching his phone.

Lando heard murmurs on the other line before Max was cutting her off, “No, I don’t care how much you’ve changed over the years. I know you and I know you aren’t the person these people are saying you are. You wouldn’t scream at people because they got your coffee order wrong. You wouldn’t fire people over one small mistake. You wouldn’t humiliate others publicly to make some sort of statement. You just aren’t that person.”

More murmurs before Max’s interruption, “No! I know you know ‘this is how you run a business’ is such a bullshit excuse. If this is you, then please let me know where Y/n is because I know for fucks sake this isn’t it.”

The responses on the other line jumped in volume, Lando being able to make out some of the words. Y/n was yelling, truly yelling. Telling Max that he wasn’t a good friend, not supporting her through whatever was being alleged.

Lando’s ears rang. This wasn’t her, he knew that. Everybody knew that. She was a bright spirit, she wasn’t now. She was a hollowed out version of who she used to be and Lando knew he had taken every bit of it. He held what she once was in his hands and this was her trying to move on without it.

He wanted to give it back to her somehow, revive the life she once led, but he was so ashamed to show his face to her. He knew it would only be met with an anger he wouldn’t be able to forget.

He couldn’t hear anymore of her turmoil. Too many memories were being brought to the forefront of his mind. Maybe it was selfish, he had proven to be on many occasions, but he stepped into the room.

“Lando’s here. I have to go.” Max rushed.

The line clipped before he could even get his full sentence out.

Max stared at his phone for a moment, studying the contact picture he hadn’t changed for years. Standing off to the side, Lando could make out Y/n’s smile, her perfect teeth, and lightness in her eyes. It was a living testimony of someone that was no longer there. Someone who had lost themselves in it all. He knew it because he had gone through it. In the midst of Y/n, Lando had lost sight of himself. Part of him wanted to blame his behavior toward her on that, but there was no excuse. He had to live with the knowledge he was capable of causing such psychological damage on someone else. Someone he loved. A personal, endless hell.

Max sighed, “Hey, mate.”

It was quiet, exhausted and Lando knew Max didn’t want to talk about it, but something in him urged to hear, “That was her?”

Max nodded, “Uh, yeah. She’s just trying to fight the allegations right now.”

Lando set the takeout down on the desk, “I assume it’s not going well?”

Something switched in Max, his eyes turned cold, “No, Lando, it’s not going well. And, frankly, I don’t know why you’re even going here with me right now”

Lando put his hands on his hips with his eyebrows furrowed, “Going where with you?”

Max’s fists curled, “I forgave you for the way you treated her, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a sore spot. She’s lashing out at people, ruining her reputation, because you put her through a shit show. I’m not saying this is wholly your fault, but you had such a major fucking role in it and, to be honest, sometimes I can’t fucking look at you without seeing her and everything she has to go through on top of all the shit you did. You don't have the right, in my mind, to ask me about her.”

”I’m not trying to start anything. I still care about her.” Lando said, hands turning upwards as if he was lost.

Max scoffed, “Care about her? Fuck you! Care about her, my ass. You used her, Lando! You took and then you gave, you took and then you gave. Such a twisted cycle that she never even asked for, looked for, deserved. You have no right to sit here and say you care about her. I care about her.”

The two friends had had such a hard time finding a peaceful ground in the moments after Y/n and Lando’s blow up. Max was protective over her. He entrusted Lando with her and Lando had thrown her back in his face like she wasn’t someone to be cherished. Part of him would never forgive Lando for that.

They wondered if that would be the final straw.

Lando breathed out, “I think you need some space. I’ll leave and if you want to talk things out later, call me. I don’t want to push something with you that you don’t want anymore.”

He turned around, prepared to walk out, but Max whispered, “Like you did with Y/n?”

The McLaren Driver spun around, “What?”

Max’s arms crossed in front of his chest, “You heard me.”

The fire in Max’s eyes masked pain, Lando knew that because he had lived it. Max didn’t want to fight him, he wanted this battle to be over. In a moment of growth, Lando set aside the anger in his own head and walked out the door. Hoping for a day where Max could look at him and see something other than the one moment in his life where he ruined something so perfectly his.

TWO YEARS PRIOR

Lando had DNF’d. Max and Y/n watched on as he took his gloves off, forcefully throwing them to the ground in frustration. A worker coaxed him into the car waiting to take him back to the garage, Lando shrugging him off and throwing himself into the backseat.

Andrea’s fist collided with the table he was sitting in front of and Jon ripped his headset off. Lando had been so close to securing a win, but one wrong swerve and he had gone spinning off the track with no opportunity of recovery.

Lando’s return was quick, his body storming through the room and darting up the stairs to privacy. Y/n and Max just glanced at each other, both knowing how he got with these things. Part of her wanted to go up there, hug him and tell him how amazing he was, but she also knew he needed time to be alone. Process things. She just wanted the best for him.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

Lan <3

Come up to my room?

She smiled. Lando hadn’t opened up to her that much over the year and a half they had been fooling around, whatever you wanted to call it, but she had always wanted him to. She had tried to ask him about family life, stressors he was dealing with, and he would answer, but it was brief and then his lips were on hers again.

Maybe he had finally come around to letting her in like she had him.

Y/n Y/l/n

Coming xx

When she got to his room, her knuckle hit the door once before it was flying open and he was pulling her in. She laughed as he kissed her, thinking it was meaningless. But, when his hands tried to pull her shirt off, she pulled back.

She cocked her head, “What’re you doing?”

Lando stopped, “Fucking you?”

Her heart dipped down, “What?”

He looked at her like nothing was wrong. Did this mean nothing to him?

”Lando, don’t you wanna talk about what just happened?” She tried, but he just kept playing with the hem of her clothes.

He nodded and her confusion almost subsided. Almost, “Yeah, with some kisses and an orgasm.”

His lips met her neck and a slimy feeling washed over her body. The first time she felt self-hatred in the presence of him. What was she doing?

Y/n pushed him off, “No, I don’t want to have sex right now, Lan.”

His hip popped out and he stared at her, “Why?”

She shrugged, “Because I don’t. That should be enough.”

He looked at her as if he expected sex. Like her rejection was some sort of betrayal. He didn’t just appreciate being with her?

Lando groaned, “Ugh, whatever. Okay. I have to get changed so I can go to the debrief.”

For once, she didn’t try to argue to stay. Something didn’t feel right about his hands on her anymore.

Something wasn’t kind about their situation anymore and it wasn’t the love she knew she had for him.

THREE MONTHS LATER

Y/n Y/l/n

Can I come over? We need to talk.

Lan <3

Sure

She walked into his apartment with hesitation. What she had identified as a comfortable space no longer felt that way. Now, she stood in the foyer as if she didn’t know the layout like the back of her hand.

Lando looked at her expectantly. It mirrored the way he had eyed her that afternoon in his driver’s room. She hated it.

“We need to talk about what we are.”

Lando’s eyes bulged, “Why? There’s nothing to talk about. We both know what we are.”

Y/n shook her head, “Well, I don’t. I thought I did, but I’m starting to think I’ve been a little naive.”

Naive? That was not a word Lando would choose to describe Y/n. Gullible, maybe, but naive? No. She wasn’t that.

He led her to the living room, hand falling around her waist and lips pecking her neck out of habit when they fell onto the couch. She pulled away, “Stop, Lando.”

The softness in her voice, the way it sounded broken down, made him search her face for answers.

He got them when she began speaking, “Lando, for the past year and a half, I have done everything a girlfriend would do. I have cooked for you, run out to complete errands so you weren’t stressed, come to your house at night when you couldn’t sleep, stopped seeing other men because I felt tied to you exclusively, loved you. You have done none of that. I’ve gotten flowers, but that’s rare and I’ve gotten gifts, but it’s been for my birthday and weeks late. I give you everything I have. I give you my time, my energy, my body, my feelings, everything. You’ve given me on and off moments where you treat me with some level of respect, but I have never gotten the amount I deserve. I can’t keep doing this when all I feel like is a random fling.”

Lando stuttered. He knew this was coming. He knew the way he had been treating her, giving her things occasionally so they would hold more value and pulling back when he felt like it, would catch up to him. But, to think she was in love with him and expected the same from him, was not something he was prepared for. He was speechless as he looked at her. What was he supposed to say? She was a fling.

The moment that would haunt him everywhere he went: the small drop in her face when she realized he wasn’t fighting her. The knowledge that what she had felt all along was what she had been.

She deserved more.

She stood from the couch, “Oh my god.”

Lando stood with her, “Y/n, I am so sorry. I-”

She slapped him across the face, “Who do you think you are? Giving me flowers, taking me out to dinner, giving me a taste of what it’s like to be treated with dignity by you just so you could keep stringing me along. You manipulative piece of shit!”

The anger in her eyes mirrored Max’s whenever he got mad. He worried that would be burned into his brain every time he looked his best friend’s way.

Lando grabbed her wrist when she turned around, spinning her back, “Y/n, you have no idea. I didn’t mean for it to be this way. I’ve always wanted you. I want you.”

She pushed him away, “Want me how? Want me for my body? Want me for sex? Want me for some fucking orgasms? Is that what you’ve reduced me to?”

He tried to find the right words. There were none. “I thought we were having fun! I didn’t know you were falling for me.”

She rushed into the kitchen, grabbing her purse while yelling, “What’d you think I was doing sticking around all this time? For the sex? You’re good in bed, but not that fucking good. You’re a sick fuck.”

She reached the door and he stood in front of it, forcing himself to memorize the fury that was slowly fading away to deep sadness, “Y/n, I care about you. I don’t know how I feel about you, but I know it’s more than a fling.”

Lando waited for her reply, but she just smacked his shoulder and began to cry, “Don’t say that! That’s so fucking unfair! I’ve been in love with you for a year and you don’t even have your feelings figured out for me? You’ve been fucking me for almost two years and you have no clue if you hate me or you love me? Grow up!”

Her tears bled through the fabric of her shirt as she stared up at him. The deep color of her eyes was magnified by the glossiness. He loved her eyes. Did that mean he loved her? He was furiously trying to sort out the feelings he knew he had for her in the short amount of time he had. He didn’t want her to leave. Was that cruel?

In his silence, she found everything she needed. Pushing past him, Y/n ripped the door open. Her face turned back to him, a version he didn’t recognize, and she whispered, “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Her parting words struck his soul, so raw and real. He knew that was what she wanted him to remember if he chose to block the entire conversation from his mind.

No matter how hard he would try, Lando would come to find he would never be able to forget the blip in his life. Her fast pulse under his fingers when he grabbed her wrist to the way she condemned him, it was all there. Lingering and plotting to remind him of their presence when the syllables of her name were uttered.

Maybe he did love her, he was starting to realize that, but that would never matter now.

”You should be ashamed of yourself.”

PRESENT

Lando moved the oatmeal around in his bowl as he scrolled through his Instagram feed. His TV played some random news station in the background in the living room, one he was half listening to. But, the moment the anchor spoke her name, Lando was dropping his phone and bringing his full attention to the screen.

A picture of her popped up, a headline below and one Lando couldn’t bring himself to read. He was too enthralled with her picture, remembering the times she used to smile at him that way.

”Y/n Y/l/n has officially stepped down from her CEO position at her famous boutique. She and her team released a statement this morning, apologizing for the strain she put on employees and other board members these past two years. She explains in the statement that there is no excuse for her actions, but she is heavily remorseful for them. She promises to work further on herself out of respect for the people she affected, changing her ways. She also briefly mentioned in the statement that she will be paying thousands of dollars to each employee she fired under wrongful termination. Y/n explains that the business has always meant the world to her and it is painful to let it go, put it in the hands of someone else, but she knows this is for the best. She wishes the business and all employees a more positive life after having impacted their’s negatively for so long.”

Lando stood in his living room, hands by his sides, as he read the screenshot posted on the TV. His hands shook and his palms sweat, tears pricking his eyes.

She loved that job.

This was his fault, no matter how much he tried to say her actions were under her control. It hit him fully then and there. Y/n changed him for the better, taught him how to treat someone you love, and he ruined her. He took the perfect girl with the perfect teeth, perfect hair, beautiful smile, and twisted her insides into someone who lived with rage. She never knew rage until him. He introduced it to her.

Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?

A/N: sorry pookies sending all my love after this bc it broke ME idk how yall are doing

TAGS: @jehun

[sttoru]

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑

⟣ sypnosis. suguru is busy with work and leaves you alone with mimiko and nanako for a bit. when he finally returns, he spends some quality time with the three of you.

⟣ note. just thinkin abt suguru who’s all soft 4 you and his two adopted kids (if i say he’s adopted them, he did shhhhh)

⟣ tags. geto suguru x female reader. pure fluff. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, honey,’, mimiko and nanako play w ur hair & call suguru ‘dad’ because … yes.

“nanako. . ! i’m telling you, that clip looks much better over here.”

“nu-uh, not true, mimiko. looks better over here !”

the sisters argue back and forth, leaving you awkwardly shifting in your seat as you did not know what to do or say in such a situation. your only intention by visiting suguru’s work environment was to see him, but it turned out that your lover was currently unavailable. thus why the two teenagers ended up escorting you to a nearby waiting room.

they promised to keep you entertained until their ‘master’ was done with his meeting. the said entertainment was actually just you being their test subject.

your hair was getting played with, put in multiple hairstyles which they undid if they didn’t like, hair clips randomly landing somewhere on your locks, four hands moving everywhere on your head—nanako and mimiko were having the time of their life playing the hairdresser part. but of course, they wouldn’t be siblings if they didn’t fight over the smallest of disagreements.

their little squabbles went on until a sweet voice cut through the bickering;

“how about we add this here?”

suguru appears out of thin air, leaving all three of you shocked. you felt something being put in your hair, his hands carefully wrapping the object between the strands whilst his eyes looked down at you like you were the only one present in this room.

“are you ladies alright? you seem to be in quite a shock.” the dark-haired man muses, thumb gently grazing against your cheek once he retreats his hand from your face.

the two sisters took a second or two to process suguru’s sudden appearance before the dark-blonde one jumped up to greet him—eyes glimmering as she seemed to instantly forget about you or your hair which she was busy with; “dad ! hi!”

your eyebrows raise in surprise as you hear nanako refer to suguru as her ‘dad’. she usually calls him ‘master geto’ when she’s with you. the same goes for her sister, although she was a bit more reserved;

“hi, we missed you.” mimiko smiled and waved at suguru, walking up to him after her twin did. both sisters look up at suguru expectantly—as if they were waiting for something to happen.

“aw, how sweet,” suguru hums, ruffling their hair, which was probably the ‘thing’ they were waiting on, “i missed my girls too.”

you weren’t forgotten either. suguru bent his head down to leave a soft kiss on your cheek and flashed you a loving smile; “i hope they treated you well while i was away, sweetheart.”

his manner of speaking left your heart beating in your throat, the familiar warmth spreading across your entire chest the moment his lips landed on your skin. any more and you’d be unable to hide your embarrassment.

“they did. they’re the sweetest.” you nod shyly and the sisters immediately turn their head towards suguru once more. this time they were in need of validation. most preferably in the form of verbal compliments or anything close to it.

suguru chuckles. he could recognise that body language from miles away.

“i can always count on you two.” he sighs in content and takes a seat across from you, eyes flickering from one sister to the other, “thank you for taking care of her.”

nanako and mimiko look at each other and giggle to themselves, whispering some things you can’t hear, but you can guess that they’re gushing about getting complimented by their ‘dad’. it was adorable—the dynamic between the two sisters and your lover.

“i don’t know where to look, honey. they sure did go overboard with the accessories.”

suguru comments on the current state of your hair, causing you to turn your attention towards him. he was staring back at you, a charming smile tugging at his lips whilst his hands were searching for yours.

you looked flustered at the sudden remark and laugh sheepishly in response, “yeah, well, they had fun so.. i kinda just let them do whatever.”

suguru hums whilst his eyes take your in beauty. you somehow look even prettier with all those hair clips on. the thing he added was the cherry on top;

“it sure is a pleasant sight.” he murmurs, voice tender and sultry—eyes sharp yet soft, “two flowers creating a harmonious look— how gorgeous.”

you tilt your head at his comment; yes, it made you weak in the knees again, but you tried to unveil the reason behind his use of words. two flowers?

that’s when you notice how his eyes flicker from your face to a specific place on your hair. you detach a hand from his, bringing it up to feel the object suguru put between the clips, only for your skin to come in contact with a soft surface—a thin layer which was nice to the touch.

“over here, sweetheart.”

the voice calling out to you had its desired effect; you turn your head towards it and are surprisingly greeted by your own reflection. suguru held up a small mirror in front of your face, allowing your eyes to finally see the addition to your hair;

a flower. a pretty one. you’d guess it’s some kind of orchid— suguru’s favorite since he’s mentioned before that they reminded him of you.

“thank you, love.” you press your lips together. your eyes were avoidant as expected. suguru knew you didn’t dare look him in the eyes whenever you’re flustered. a habit that makes his love for you grow stronger than ever.

“how cute,” your lover says whilst holding onto your chin, guiding your gaze back to his. his lips form a lovestruck smile once you lock eyes, “don’t ever hide that pretty face from me.”

you could feel it; his fingers that gently tug you towards him, your upper body leaning forward whilst his does the same, the longing growing in both your bodies, your hands searching for a place of stability on his shoulders, his face tilting a bit, lips parting ever so slightly—

“ehem,” a girl’s voice disturbs the romantic scene, making you almost jump out of your seat. it seems like the two of you entirely forgot about the sisters who were still in the room with you. they did want to leave you two alone and escape the space silently, however they also craved attention from suguru at the moment; “we still exist, dad.”

“oh, dear.” suguru chuckles, giving you a quick peck on the forehead instead of the lips like intended, leaving you a bit disappointed. his hand reaches out to gently pinch nanako’s cheek for her interruption; “i have my hands full, hm? come here you two.”

one arm wraps around your waist whilst the other is stretched out as an invitation for a group hug. the two teenagers waste no time and jump into suguru’s embrace, of course, including you in their comfy hug. mimiko’s arm was draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to their shared warmth—small giggles and noises of content filling the room.

suguru sighs and finally relaxes his body after a stressful morning; the only three people he cares about most now in his arms like desired. he gives nanako and mimiko a kiss on top of their heads, whilst you get your long-waited kiss on your lips. he smiles against your mouth afterwards, pressing his forehead to yours;

“my girls.”

[winchester-fantasies]

Say My Name

Summary: You're in the club getting loose and hoping to get lucky, but Dean has other ideas.

Word Count: 582

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: Jealous Dean, possessive Dean, swearing, allusions to sex, steamy moment between Dean and reader.

Winchester Fantasies' Masterlist

You saw him across the room, his eyes reflecting the lights of the club. You’d both needed some downtime after this last hunt. So you’d gotten all dressed up to go to the club for a night of dancing. You might even get lucky, you’d thought. But Dean being Dean, he just stood on the outskirts of the crowd, never interacting, never moving. But you could feel his eyes on you. He’d been more watchful of you as of late, his gaze never straying too far. You didn’t know the reason for the change but you weren’t going to complain. There was something so incredibly sexy about his stoic vigil, that protective watchfulness that told you nothing would happen to you that he didn’t allow.

You were currently pressed up close to a random guy. You didn’t need a name, you only needed what was currently grinding against your ass. Rando suddenly spun you around, gripping your waist tightly, lips crashing against your own. You were so surprised by his actions that you barely registered the presence behind you.

A strong hand wrapped around your wrist and jerked you away from the kiss and the object of your promising release. You glanced over your shoulder, Dean’s hard stare the only thing meeting your gaze. Rando took a step forward as if to protest the interruption, but with one look at Dean, he thought better of it and instead melded back into the crowd of dancers as Dean hauled you in the opposite direction and out into the starlit night.

“What the fuck?” you clipped, your voice echoing into the silent night.

Dean didn’t answer as he continued walking, you barely able to keep up with his long strides. It didn’t take long for you both to reach the Impala. He hauled you forward and shoved you across the gravel all within a few seconds of one another. Your back thumped against the cold metal of Baby and your eyes widened as Dean stalked towards you, his gaze blazing even in the darkness.

“What was that?” he growled, stepping so close that you were virtually pinned to the vehicle.

“What…what do you mean?” you asked, feigning ignorance, although you knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you enjoy it?” Dean asked, ignoring your question.

Looking up into his eyes, you suddenly felt very vulnerable and small as if he could see every feeling, as if he knew every thought. “I-I don’t know,” you whispered.

He lowered his head until you felt the heat of his skin against your cheek and smelled the scent of his aftershave. You swallowed hard as unexpected emotions welled up and arousal washed over you. “Can make you feel so much better than him,” Dean whispered, his voice dripping with desire. He ran his hand up the exposed skin of your thigh, his fingertips causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh.

Your breath hitched as you felt his lips graze your ear, feathery light. “Say my name,” he demanded, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it. He picked you up, his large hands coming to rest under your ass. You could feel his very obvious bulge against your core, driving you insane.

“D-Dean,” you stuttered, speaking past your arousal nearly impossible.

“That’s right,” he said, his warm breath ruffling the small hairs at your temple. “My name is the only one that will ever be on your lips when I’m finished with you.”

And with that he took you.

~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~

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[msbigredmachine]

Checkmate - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: Smut

Click here if you want to be on my tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

-----

Answer your fuckin phone.

She's been expecting his text message, to add to the half-dozen missed calls he's already deluged her phone with. His WrestleMania plans were thrown into disarray tonight and for some reason he thinks she has something to do with it.

Too bad she doesn't give a fuck what he thinks.

I'm calling you one more time. You better pick up.

So bossy. Always has been. But he knows damn well who the boss really is. When her phone springs to life again with his beautiful face snarling at her through the screen, she rolls onto her back with a heavy sigh, smooths down her oversized t-shirt and presses the green button, waiting to hear his deep voice on the other end of the line.

"What the fuck, Joy!"

Damn. Even when he's pissed, he sounds sexy as hell; it's the same menacing timbre he adopts when he's folding her up and turning her out. The memory makes her hot between her thighs.

"Reigns." Her voice is calm and steady despite the thumps of her heart, calling out to him even when she doesn't want it to.

"Why was Cody there tonight? Hmm?" he demands, his temper simmering beneath his words. "I coulda sworn he agreed to step aside for Dwayne. Why he change his mind? Did you have something to do with it? What'chu say to him, huh?"

She extends her left hand to inspect her ombre-colored acrylic nails. "Calm your tits. I don't control Cody's actions, I'm Smackdown's GM, not Raw's. He won the Rumble and he has the right to choose who he wants."

"Don't patronize me, Joy! Rock and I were a done deal!"

"You sound tense, Reigns. Paranoid, even," she smirks, "Worried you can't beat the American Nightmare a second time? Besides, you heard the fans...they wanna see you and him-"

"Bullshit!" he cuts her off. "This wasn't about no fans. You wanted this and I know why. You saw the pictures of me and Venita over Christmas and you been in your feelings ever since."

It's a predictable, childish response, and though there's some truth to it, she dismisses its immature delivery. "What you do with your bitch is your business. You are marrying her, after all," she says coolly, hearing him bristle at the other end.

"See? We ain't had a civil conversation since those photos got out. I know exactly how you feel about her, so tell me I'm lying."

"Don't ever question my ability to separate business from pleasure. You are walking proof of that," Joy warns him. "My problem is with you questioning my authority, with your silly little threats and your temper tantrums. You did it leading up to the Rumble and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. In case you forgot, I run Smackdown now. You work for me. The Mania match is scheduled, so your ass better show up in Philly, you understand me?"

A long, tense moment crawls by.

"Are you done?" he says, sounding bored.

"No. Whatchu gon' do about it?" Joy challenges.

"You looked hot as fuck in that dress tonight."

She rolls her eyes. Of course he deflects. But it's not going to work this time. She wants him to feel as frustrated as she has been over the last couple of months. "Ain't your fiancée over there with you?" she retorts, her tone clipped and snarky.

"She's in the Hamptons. And even if she was here, that ain't never stopped us anyways," he calls her out.

"Whatever." As flippant as she's tried to be about it, she is growing tired of the same old song and dance between her and Roman. She's allowed him to juggle her and Venita, and she blames herself for not leaving him alone when he chose to stay with her. Perfect, pretty little naive Venita. The IG influencer extraordinaire whose only two cares in life are her follower count and the picture-perfect aesthetics of the 'Roman & Venita' brand.

Whatever helps her sleep at night, I guess.

Joy had wondered just how perfect they really were the first time she saw the couple backstage in the Thunderdome, with Venita looking bored as hell the entire time she was there. It was clear that she had no interest in Roman's world, and Joy told him just that. Certain she would be fired on her first day for opening her big mouth, he had merely laughed and agreed, and it was then she found out she was his producer for the upcoming Bloodline saga. Onscreen, they created magic with the now legendary Tribal Chief storyline, but the magic they soon began making behind the scenes and between the sheets was even better and way too hot for TV.

She's never had time to be ashamed of inserting herself in someone else's relationship, mainly because her career has accelerated to the top of WWE's creative hierarchy. Plus, she's not about to give up such great sex, not with a stroke game that superb and a libido as high as her ambitions. Sometimes she wishes she doesn't have to share him, but she accepts that she can't have it all. After all, she already lords over the A-show as Smackdown's General Manager, meaning she is virtually unstoppable now, with money, power, and most importantly, the balls of the biggest star in the industry in the palm of her hand. Literally.

But he's pissing her off right now.

"Look, I want us to talk. Come see me." He's turned on the charm but Joy refuses to fall for it.

"What I want is an apology for your constant disrespect ever since I became GM," she replies, "I told you; I don't give a damn that we're fucking. Do not make an enemy out of me, Roman."

The Tribal Chief sighs heavily. "Look. You're right. Let me make it up to you. Come to my room so we can talk things out."

"No. You just want pussy."

"That too," he snickers.

Joy bites her lip as she idly circles her middle and ring finger over her pussy lips. She had no prior plans to touch herself, but listening to his deep, haughty voice has sparked a throbbing between her thighs that needs urgent attention. "Right. Well, I don't feel like leaving my room. This bed is way too comfy," she emphasizes.

"Mine is comfier. Are you alone?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Woman, you better not be givin' my pussy to nobody else," he growls, making her laugh.

"You're hilarious. My pussy is mine and mine alone, no matter how good you beat it and eat it," she reminds him, her smile widening as she hears him taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"I see that you get off on testing my patience. Does that turn you on, baby girl? Hmm? Does it make that pussy wet? I bet you wet right now." His voice drops an entire octave at that last part, and she bites her lip to keep from moaning when her slick honey pools around her fingers.

"I might be," she gasps.

"Then bring your ass over here and let me take care of it."

Joy huffs, determined to resist him for as long as she can. "I can take care of myself, Reigns. Matter of fact, I'm doing just that as we speak..."

"Aww, babe, don't be touchin' on my pussy without me," he grumbles. His frustration makes her grin in triumph. She holds all the cards and she's enjoying listening to him squirm.

"I wanna see you, beautiful. We ain't been together in so long. I miss you," Roman continues.

"Is that right?"

"Uh huh. Don't you miss me, Joy? Don't you miss this dick? It definitely misses you. Listen..."

The slippery, sticky sound that follows his words is unmistakable, and her heart pounds in her chest at his soft groan. The image of him lying in his bed, probably naked, jerking off to her, makes her stomach flip and her pussy spasm beneath her fingers. The tension crackles over the phone, simmering with the same intensity as though he were right there in person.

"Hear that, baby? That's how bad I need you. Come over." His silky-smooth whisper finally loosens the last thread of control she has held onto tightly up to this point. She knows that ultimately, she won't deny him...she never does because she can't, and he knows that.

"Gimme ten minutes," she relents.

"Make it five."

"I said, ten. Text me your room number." Cutting the call before he can respond, she leaves her bed and searches for a couple of accessories to wear. After a quick check in the mirror, she picks up her phone and sees he's already sent her his room number. The thought of what is about to transpire hastens her flight out of the room, the dead of night no match for her rapidly burning need for him. She has since accepted that she will always need him, too.

His door swings open seconds after she knocks, and a surprised yelp escapes her when he yanks her inside and tugs her flush against him. He is barefoot, in gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, and shirtless to show off the majesty of his massive, inked chest. Joy meets his loaded stare head-on as he drinks in her own appearance. She is in one of his old Nike hoodies that she swiped from him and never gave back, with the open zipper in the middle showing the swell of her breasts underneath. Long pastel-pink stockings run up to her brown thighs with gray Crocs on her feet. As his eyes crawl hungrily up and down her frame, her body thrums with realization at just how hard he is, his sizable erection poking her lower belly. Despite their back-and-forth, it's no mistake that she intoxicates him, and that power thrills her.

"Like what you see, champ?" she asks, staring him down for his response.

Roman's moan is ragged as he clamps his huge paw around her throat and covers her mouth with his, and she instantly melts in his arms, her nerves alight from his touch. She is swept up in the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his taste that contrasts erotically with his aggressiveness and the eager, hungry flicking of their tongues as the kiss heats up. He feels wonderfully warm and smells incredible like he always does.

Reluctantly, his mouth retreats from hers and he tucks his face in the hollow of her neck. He nuzzles his cheek against her skin and inhales the fragrance he's missed so much, her hushed moan caressing the depths of his senses.

"You a vindictive little bitch, you know that?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"Only when I wanna be," she hums, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You musta loved watching me lose my cool tonight," he adds, "I saw the look in your eyes on that stage when I got into it with those two bums. That shit turned you on. Your nipples were hard through your dress. And I'm sure that pussy was soaked."

Truth be told, seeing his cool calm composure collapse, with his long hair flying and cocky countenance as he talked shit to Cody and Seth, made her so wet she had to run into a restroom stall to take off her panties, forcing her to go commando for the rest of the night. She'll never admit it though; she never likes to give him the upper hand. "How do you know?" she challenges.

"Cuz I know you. I know everything about your body, sweetheart," Roman brags, "I know what you like, and I know you love testing me cuz it makes me wanna fuck the attitude outta you."

"So what are you waiting for?" She licks her glossy lips, full and pouting, goading him with her bedroom eyes. But the Tribal Chief can feel her body trembling, betraying her bravado. This time he has the upper hand and he plans to exploit it.

He pulls her hoodie over her head and his eyes immediately drop to the thin beaded belly chain adorning her slender waist, accentuating her delicious curves. Desire gleams in his brown irises at the sight of her bare breasts, the fleshy mounds popping out at him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. "Fuck, you're sexy," he murmurs. He massages each one then leans down to lick and suck on them, his tongue and hands working together to pleasure her.

"Ooh, that feels good," she moans, placing her hair behind her ear to get a good look at him feasting on her nipples. Ever the multitasker, he grabs her white lace thong at the hem, yanking impatiently until it rips from her body. Joy bursts out laughing at his savagery. "I knew you was gon' fuck up my panties," she jokes.

"I replace 'em, don't I?" He abandons her breasts and kisses her again, this time sliding both hands down to her round backside and lifting her up to press her against the wall. The friction of their bare chests pressed together, nipples grazing, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing them even closer, builds the desire. He grinds his throbbing hardness against the open heat between her thighs, and she gets him back by reaching inside his sweatpants and grabbing his dick, stroking the turgid flesh as it jumps in her grasp. "Mmm, baby you're so hard. Put it in me," she orders.

"Not yet," he cuts her off, his huge biceps flexing as he carries her across the lavish suite. "Come over here, you little slut. Come suck my dick in front of this great view of the Strip."

Next to the expansive window is an L-shaped sofa large enough for a good trip to Pound Town. As he takes off his pants, Joy can't stop herself from drooling at his towering form. Six foot three, bronzed Adonis with chocolate eyes, luscious hair, massive and muscled and all man, with a long, hefty cock pulsing between those powerful thighs. He looks like a demigod in all his glory, and she venerates at the altar of his beauty.

Roman settles himself at the other end of the sofa and eyes her down with a smug smirk. Tucking his hands behind his head, he spreads his legs. "Crawl to me," he commands, his smirk widening when she advances towards him on all fours. Joy is a work of art, with nicely sized titties, round hips, thick, mouth-watering thighs and ass and that fat pussy he dreams about at least once a day. Every part of her is real and silky soft to the touch. It's been years since he first tasted her, and he is still drunk off it. She is a potent drug he can't wean himself off of, and frankly, he doesn't want to. He loves Venita, but for all her prowess in bed, she does not possess a fraction of the wild thrill that encapsulates the woman before him. He wants Joy, needs her like he needs to breathe, and he always will. He will seek his fiancée's forgiveness when that day comes.

Joy slowly slithers up the length of his body, ignoring his erection for now as she straddles him and plants a long, wet kiss on his mouth, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the suite. Her hands caress the tight muscles of his body, having memorized all the spots that make his breath quicken and his pulse spike. He puts his hands on her hips, but she seizes them and pins them above his head without breaking stride, laughing when he moans out with frustration. She catches his tongue as it slides into her mouth, and she proceeds to suck on it, her head bobbing like she is sucking his dick. Saliva quickly gathers around their joined mouths as she feasts on only his tongue. It's the messiest, sloppiest, hottest kiss they've ever shared, and the tension is reaching fever pitch as a result.

"You want me to suck your dick like this, baby?" Joy asks. When Roman nods, she tugs his lower lip between her teeth. "Say it," she orders, her fingers digging into his wrists. Her hips are rolling too, moving in a seductive, serpentine dance that short circuits every fiber of his being. He can't move even if he wants to; his senses are pinned down to the bed along with his body. The Tribal Chief is helpless, forced to endure the sweetest agony, with the head of his dick grazing her wet slit and driving him insane. An uncharacteristic whimper deserts his lips as his blood pumps with agitation.

"Yes," he responds breathlessly.

"What's the magic word?" Joy presses. The mocking smirk gracing her pretty features should infuriate him, but it only arouses him instead.

"Please," he concedes, knowing full well that she will drag out the torture until he succumbs. With a triumphant smile and one more intoxicating kiss, she finally takes pity on him and makes the descent down his heaving body, soothing his butterscotch skin with soft kisses. As she nears his groin, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes deep breaths to remain focused.

"You think you're in control, toying with two women's lives." Joy shakes her head. "Hell no. I'm in control, Roman. I own you. You're mine to do with however I want. And you know the best part?"

She closes her mouth over the tip of him, giving it a gentle suckle before driving home her point. "Deep down, you love that shit."

Roman merely grins. The power has shifted back in his possession and she doesn't even know it. He shows her when he strikes with lightning speed, grabbing her and twisting her around so her legs are on either side of his head. Stunned, Joy grabs his thighs to steady herself, as he's already grabbing handfuls of her ass while using his tongue to part her lower lips. Her body jerks from the warm fat wetness of his tongue lashing around her sensitive crevices, softening her up with his saliva. Heady with desire, she just lays there with his dick in her hand, too overwhelmed to do anything else but moan with pleasure.

A sudden, stinging smack on her left ass cheek jolts her back to earth.

"You gon' suck me off or what?" Roman demands impatiently before refocusing on his own task.

Regaining her senses, her mouth engulfs his length, her head bobbing with her wrist twisting around the base. She cups his balls and rolls them in her other hand, making him groan wantonly. Her mouth is warm and her pouty lips are tight around him, sliding up and down with her tongue trailing saliva along his hard flesh. He retaliates by spreading her pussy open and holding her down on him, sucking and licking her folds with rapid strokes and enjoying her sexy throaty sounds that mingle with the sloppy slurps of his mouth on her. The increased pressure on her sensitive pussy has her moaning and squirming against his face, which in turn floods his tongue with her taste. His appreciative groans while licking her in rhythm with her rolling hips sends shivers down her spine.

Mustering all the strength she possesses, Joy frees herself from his clutches and crawls back down his body, her juices smearing a slick trail along his torso as she guides his length inside her with impressive quickness. She moans out loud as he fills her, her head tipping forwards as his big palms paw at the supple flesh of her backside. Roman groans at the wetness that welcomes his dick as it disappears into the warm canal of her pussy. "Yeah, fuck me good, baby girl," he growls, slapping her ass in encouragement.

Holding onto his ankles, she rocks up and down his erection, winding her hips with each drop down to take him as deep as she can. His husky moans and his tight grip on her waist empower her. Joy seizes every chance she can to turn him into putty in her hands. Because the motherfucker never likes to relinquish control, always determined to break her down into submission; whether it's with his God-gifted tongue, or his huge hands choking her, or with that big ol' dick, fucking her against the wall of her office, bending her over the table in his locker room at TV, or making her ride him in the bowels of his private jet. It's fun taking control from him and showing him who's boss, on the job and especially outside of it.

"You love it when I ride this big dick dontcha? Got you deep in this pussy just the way you like it," she purrs haughtily, upping the ante by reaching down to grip his cock.

The Tribal Chief realizes she's on demon time to be stroking his dick while riding him. She looks so sexy on top of him, in them pretty waist beads and stockings. Her thick hips roll back lavishly, her even thicker ass presses down on his pelvis, grinding and twisting and nudging him all the way up in her creamy pussy. Damn. He loves the way she fucks him. Baby girl has mad skills and a juicy pussy, and he is glad to be the one she uses them on. "Go faster, baby. Bounce on my dick," he cajoles, massaging her ass cheeks and groaning softly when she obeys, "Uh-huh, just like that, babe, unnnh..."

She can almost see the look of pleasure on his face. She can definitely hear him as he tugs at the soft flesh of her butt, lost to the depths of her warm wetness, in the erotic sounds of their sex noises and their slapping skin filling the big room as she bounces on his dick. Another moan escapes her, her head tilting back as he angles his hips to make his dick reach that oh-so-sweet spot inside her. He smacks her ass again, earning yet another whimper from her lips as her juices trickle down his length down to his balls. Her thighs are starting to burn from her efforts, but she can't stop, not when she's so close...

"Uhhhn baby, I'm comin'," she gasps, leaning back to rest her hands on his chest as she gyrates her ass on him. Roman's breathing is as heavy as hers, his fingers digging into her hips to steer her movements. The sensations are overwhelming as her walls contract around him, her pussy moistening as she leans forward again and rides him even harder. Seconds later, a flooding orgasm bursts inside her with such power that it wracks her entire body with tremors. Through the thick fog of numbing pleasure, she hears Roman's surprised grunt as her cum leaks all over his groin area.

"Damn baby, you nuttin' all over me. I knew you been needin' this dick," he taunts her.

Truth be told, she wasn't expecting to come this hard, but fuck it always feels so good when she does. "Oh my god," her voice trembles, her hand clutching the headrest to keep from collapsing in a heap.

Roman spanks her again. "I ain't tell you to stop. Keep goin'..."

"Hol' up, you got me shakin' so much," Joy groans, her thighs still quivering. He is still deep inside her, his dick throbbing impatiently inside the warmth of her tight walls.

"If I take this shit over, you won't be able to walk in the morning, that's a promise," he threatens.

"Then quit talkin' and do that shit," she bites back, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"A'ight then." He pulls her backwards on top of him, with her back to his chest. He grabs her legs and holds her up by her knees, thrusting upwards into her, reveling in her surprised yelp that quickly dissolves into loud moans. This new position feels so good that she's whining and making noises that only seem to turn him on as he strokes in and out of her pussy from underneath, making her body react and remind her exactly why she's not leaving his trifling ass anytime soon.

"Uhnnn yes, Roman, fuck me," she whimpers over and over, her mind spiraling, her eyes rolling back. He is relentless, pulling her legs further back and pounding her faster, sparking another intense orgasm. She squirts so hard that she's left dizzy and boneless, causing her to slip off his sweat-slick body, a shivering crumpled mess. She curls up into a fetal position and gives in to the intense euphoria of her release. With a proud snicker, the Tribal Chief caresses all over her body, then rolls her onto her stomach, spreading her thighs to observe the damage he's inflicted on her pussy.

"We ain't finished," he informs her, tapping his hard, slickened dick against her soaked, puffy folds. She tenses and arches her back on instinct, anticipating his invasion. He smiles behind her, grabs her hips, and drags her limp body up and onto his hard, waiting dick. The moans they exhale together is a symphony that serenades the pair as he continues his hard, deep thrusts. With her hips in the air and her backside in his calloused palms, she is at his mercy yet again, and her vision swims at the feeling of him practically in her spine. She knows just how deep that big ass dick of his can get inside her, but it never fails to wipe her mind blank when it does.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbles into the couch, her face sinking further in it as he drills into her hard and rough. It hurts so good that it's quite literally taking her breath away. "Shit, fuck Roman, wait, wait," she pleads, reaching behind to push his thigh and forcing him to halt his movements.

"Too much?" he asks, laughing as he presses gentle kisses along her spine, feeling her body shiver from the contact. "That's what you get when your pussy is so good. You was talkin' all that shit earlier, best believe I ain't lettin' up, baby girl. Who owns who now, huh," he says, swatting her ass and starting again.

"You're a cocky asshole," she moans shakily, defiance swirling in her lust-filled gaze.

Roman's smirk is diabolical and panty-wetting. "And don't you forget it. Now shut up and take this dick."

Joy winces as his hand curves around her throat, the other clutching her lower hip as he fucks her prone body into the sofa. She clings to the cushions and her sanity with everything she has, tears filling her eyes as he pummels her with hurried, lethal thrusts, making her ass jiggle and her pussy drip some more as she's dragged dangerously close to the precipice. He pushes the arch out of her back and flips her around, sliding right back inside before she can regain her bearings and dropping his body weight on her. His intoxicating cologne surrounds her as their mouths crush together in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. Incoherent moans leave them both as he rolls his hips against hers, nestling his dick right there, eking a sob out of her as she falls apart again.

"Aww, f-f-fuuuck..."

"I know baby, I know it feels so good," He kisses away her tears and then her cheek, his fingers curling over her breast in a light squeeze which in turn squeezes her walls around his pounding thrusts. "Mmm, this pussy so tight and wet. Keep comin' for me, baby, gimme all that nut."

His sultry command sends another wave of pleasure crashing into her like one of his trademark Spears, and her jaw drops from the force of her orgasm, her pussy clenching painfully around his dick. Her pitiful moans that she struggles to muffle against his tattooed shoulder are music to the Tribal Chief's ears as his own body is moments away from the same fate.

"Shit," he groans gruffly, shuddering breaths tearing from his lungs as his balls tighten and his strokes become sloppier, heavier, "Fuck, I'm boutta buss..."

Joy lifts her left leg up and rests it on his shoulder, digging her other heel in his lower back to pull him in deeper and finally take him down. She runs her hands all over his sides, his back, his ass, her moans mingling with his as his hips snap harder and faster. Their foreheads touch, and a devilish smile forms on her face at the helplessness in his glazed eyes, licking his lips in between throaty gasps of pleasure. She has him right where she wants him. "There you go baby, pound that fuckin' pussy, fill it up," she coaxes.

"Unhhh, shit," Roman's whines disintegrate into a whimpering cry as his big body trembles viscerally against her own. Joy's toes curl as he lodges his dick all the way inside her, making her feel each throbbing spurt of his warm seed spilling generously in her pussy. She never minds him coming inside her; her IUD is always in place, mainly for his benefit and hers. His deep, sexy grunts as he rides out his nut with stuttered ruts of his hips wash over her, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed for him.

Kissing her leg and letting it down, Roman finally pulls his dick out with a hiss and strokes out the rest of his cum onto her softened, battered pussy lips. Joy stares dazedly at the ceiling, her body humming from the last vestiges of her orgasm and a touch of pain. She feels his big arms slide around her waist and draw her in so their lips meet, savoring their collective taste with their tongues as they bask in the afterglow. He takes her arms and winds them around his neck before picking her up, transferring her from the sofa to the king-sized bed a couple of feet away. He lays her carefully on the bed and sits at the edge, watching her snuggle against the soft sheets and pillows with a satisfied sigh. The outdoor lights peeking through the window cast a glittery shadow over her nude body, making her look even more beautiful. And speaking of beautiful...

"I got you something," he announces, taking a small gift box labeled Van Cleef & Arpels sat on the nightstand and handing it to her.

"What's this?" she questions, slowly sitting up.

"Just a lil' sumn I thought you'd like," he simply shrugs. "Open it."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she unties the ribbon at the top of the box and removes the lid. Nestled in navy-blue velvet are an eighteen-carat yellow-gold Alhambra bracelet and matching earrings. She wishes she disliked the warmth that blooms inside her at the sweet gesture. She meets his eyes, noting his cocked eyebrow and cocky smirk as he gauges her reaction.

"This a good enough apology for you?" he asks.

Joy smiles gratefully and kisses his lips. "They're beautiful. But I keep telling you, you don't have to buy me anything," she says.

"Well, I want to. Sue me." He goes quiet for a few seconds, contemplating his next words. "You got tickets to the SuperBowl, right? Let's go together. We can hang out in my skybox."

"And have people talk about us? We got reputations to uphold. And what about Venita?"

"She'll be there. She's still clueless about us. And I told you, ain't nobody gon' say shit. Between your lawyer and mine, all them NDAs are water-tight." When he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I just miss spending time with you. I miss when we weren't at each other's throats like we are these days."

"That's only cuz you make my job harder, Reigns," she points out, scooting over when he rolls into the bed and sits up against the headboard next to her.

"And you, mine. But despite all of that, I would do anything for you. You know that, right? That's why I agreed to that damn match. For you," he adds, biting his lip as he caresses her chin and gazes tenderly at her. Joy feels her heart flutter as his chocolate-colored eyes gleam with that familiar, intense passion that the two of them have been sharing for almost four years now...

"You're so cute when you get all soft and sweet on me, champ," she smiles, leaning in for another kiss that lingers pleasantly this time. It's little moments like these that try to con her, even to this day, that their affair has veered towards the romantic side. She thanks the cynical businesswoman in her for swiftly kicking that childish notion to the curb every time the delusion attempts to rear its ugly head.

Their embrace is interrupted by the grating sound of his phone vibrating, forcing him to pull away from her with a tired sigh. On the nightstand, a text message with Venita's name lights up his phone screen.

Countin the minutes till I touch down in Vegas 🥺😍 Can't wait to see you again! Love you Baby Boo 😘

"Aww, poor baby," Joy's giggle is dark and mocking as she looks over Roman's shoulder. Snatching the phone out of his hand, she opens up the message and begins typing.

"Don't start no shit, now," he sighs, but makes no move to stop whatever havoc she's causing through his device.

"Relax, Baby Boo," she teases, pressing Send and holding his phone up to his face to show him her response.

I'm waiting for you babe. Can't wait to see you 😍 Love you sm.

"See? I was nice," she says, putting away his phone and climbing on top of his big body.

Roman rolls his eyes and runs his hands along her thighs. "I guess I should thank you, then?"

"Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just being a good, caring boss," she replies, bending to kiss his lips, trailing her tongue along his bearded jawline and tasting her dried juices. "You're my star employee, so it's important that I always give you what you need. And I always give it to you, don't I?"

Roman groans into her mouth as she kisses him harder, her dainty fingers stroking his dick which immediately pulses in her grasp as though it hasn't been touched all day. "Yeah, you do," he rasps, his body heating up as she starts to descend on him. "Oh shit, baby, you feelin' generous tonight..."

"Mmm, more like selfish..." She sits all the way down with a gasp, making both their hearts race with each twitch of his cock inside her. "Cuz I want that dick again, and I'm taking it..."

She is already moving, hunched over him, her titties in his face, sucking them both back into that sensual place of pleasure they like to visit together. He answers to her, in more ways than one, and he won't have it any other way. "Anything you want, boss. Anything you want," the Tribal Chief croaks out, allowing himself to sit back and enjoy the ride, quite literally.

THE END

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

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[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — ITOSHI SAE x FEM READER

Even when you’re no longer dating Sae, Rin always comes running to you when they have a fight. 

wc — 1k

tags — angst, childhood friends to lovers to exes, reader treats Rin like her little brother

“You shouldn’t keep doing this.” 

Rin’s eyes shutter. That’s the only way to describe it. He’s so good at that - flicking the switch that turns it off. 

Or maybe it’s unintentional. It’s always a reaction, after all. The little stars in his eyes fade in and out, hints of the little boy he was. To you, he’ll always be that kid. 

He steps off your stoop. “You said-“ 

He shuts himself up, jaw closing around what he wants to say next. You know Rin, even now. He won’t want to show his hand to you. He was so cute as a kid, running to you with all his little cuts and bruises. Now he’s all wounded pride, too grown up to come asking for a kiss to heal the hurt. 

You grab his shoulder before he can walk away. He’s so easy to read it makes your heart ache. He’s half yours, after all. 

“I didn’t mean you should leave.” 

“I’m not going to stay where I’m not wanted,” Rin says stiffly. 

It’s a testament to your enduring relationship that he shared that at all. You let a huffed laugh escape you, reach up to ruffle his hair. He’s still so cute to you, even when he acts tough. 

“What if I said I wanted you to stay?” 

“There’s no need to lie.” 

“Don’t sulk, Rin-Rin. You know I’d never turn you away.” 

It’s true - even if you broke up with Sae months ago, Rin would always have a seat at your table. You had promised him. 

You usher Rin inside and sit him down on your couch. He hunches in on himself, bangs hanging in his eyes. You resist the urge to clip them up for him, not knowing how much coddling he’ll tolerate. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” You ask as you rummage through the pantry. Where is it? You know you bought it after the last week he showed up, just in case he came back. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says defensively. “I just wanted to see you.” 

Since he won’t be able to tell, you allow yourself to roll your eyes. You know Rin loves you, but that’s not why he’s here. Reaching into the fridge, you take out the rice from last night along with some other leftovers. The tea you took from the pantry goes into a cup to steep. 

“Whenever you’re ready, then. You know I’m not going to push.” 

Rin makes a muffled grunt that could either yes or no. You bring the food over to him. You barely set it down before he’s looking up at you with those sorrowful eyes and you can’t resist the urge to hold him any longer. You let him rest his head against your stomach as you stroke his hair, rubbing his back gently. 

Rin turns his head against you, further nuzzling into you. He’s only like this with you. He’s your baby, after all. You and Sae had practically raised him. When he tilts his head, you can see the crystalline clump to his lashes and the frown on his face. 

There’s only one person who can reduce Rin to that state. 

You let Rin have his fill of comfort before he lets you go to start on his meal. Then, you walk into the other room for some privacy before you give your ex a piece of your mind. 

Sae picks up half a second after the first ring. Predictably, he lets you speak first. 

“What did you do?” 

“Was I away for so long I forgot how the Japanese say hello? I could’ve sworn-“ 

“Hello, Sae. What did you do to Rin?” 

There’s a beat of annoyed silence. 

“Why is that any of your business? We’re broken up, remember?” 

You do remember. You’d been the one to call it quits, after all. 

“Rin’s with me-“

“Brat,” Sae‘s tone is all annoyance. “Running to my ex-girlfriend just because we had a fight?” 

“So you did do something!” 

“I’m coming over.”

“Don’t-“ 

He hung up. 

“Rin, honey?” You call into the other room, receiving a yes through a mouth of food in reply. “Sae might be coming here.” 

That gets him up immediately. The door flies open and Rin stands there, looking at you with betrayed eyes that batter your heart. “Why?” 

“No, I didn’t tell him to! He just said he was coming - listen, you don’t have to say anything to him, okay? You can just stay here. I’ll talk to him.” 

“I don’t want you guys to talk without me.” 

Even if he doesn’t say it explicitly, you know what the underlying meaning of his words are. He wants to hear what Sae has to say, even if it hurts. 

He doesn’t want the two of you to fight. 

There’s a knock at the door. You and Rin share a look before he’s sprinting for it, you chasing after him. There’s no way you can outrun him, but still- 

You won’t be able to bear the look in his eyes when he sees Sae. He always makes the same face every time. Big, starry eyes for his big brother, his hero - right before Sae opens his mouth and crushes those stars in his bare fist. 

The door opens. 

In thinking about Rin, you had forgotten something crucial. Seeing your ex again stops your heart. 

“Are you serious?” Sae says, annoyed. He’s dressed lightly, in a simple T-shirt and shorts. His hair is rumpled. “You can’t handle a little argument so you have to have her comfort you? How old are you?”  

“Don’t talk to him like that,” you snap. 

“Why are you even letting him into your house?” Sae asks. “We’re over.” 

“We’re over,” you remind him. You should’ve predicted that nothing productive would come out of seeing him. The lingering feelings of resentment from your failed relationship are boiling inside of you. “Rin and I are fine.” 

You try to shut the door in his face. When he doesn’t budge, you huff and walk away, back inside. 

“Where are you going? We’re not done.” 

“I’m taking Rin home,” you’re already snatching your keys off the table. 

“I can do it. He’s my brother-“

Rin comes up behind you, clenches his fingers into the hem of your shirt. Plays the role of a little brother so well as he can only do with you, because you let him. You encourage him to, actually. You had always wanted a little brother, and when Sae had introduced you to Rin, you had practically adopted him for your own. 

Sae’s probably regretting that decision now, seeing Rin’s silent choice. The minute Sae’s face falls, seeing this, you want to take it back, but how would Rin feel if you did? You can’t. 

“Alright,” Sae says, defeated, just the way you wanted but somehow it doesn’t feel good at all. “I understand.”

[idkfitememate]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write another part for Otter creator! Like maybe them with Furina and Neuvillette having a tea party or something! (Possibly Wriothesley[?]!!), and they start realising more! (If Wriothesley’s there he should be oblivious for a bit!)

The Otter Chronicles Pt. 1

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૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Otter Reader x Fontaine

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 1.3k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, yandere-ish behavior (really straining the term here), itty bitty bit of angst

“Tea party, hooray!” It was easy to see that Furina was excited.

Because today was the day for your first REAL tea party. Not just locked in a room with her for a day.

And yes you meant a literal day. Like a whole ass day.

Anyway-

Her and Neuvillette were going to FINALLY take you to meet Wriothesley! Yay! It was just a date to take about some royal officiant bullshit you couldn’t bring yourself to care about, but as per usual, they refused to take you out of their sights.

So here you were, getting all dolled up in Lady Furina’s lap. A new bow tie, a fancier hat, and somehow Otter friendly makeup.

Where they found it? You don’t know. Did they make it? You’re 99.9% sure they had it commissioned. Do you look good with cate eye eyeliner? Hell yes.

You were now being carried in the Otter Pack™️ (a rather large and plush satchel that Neuvillette carried around, filled with lush blankets and pillows and only the FINEST toys for you to play with) with your head sticking out of the top, your fur freshly combed and oiled. Neuvillette’s fingers curled through what wasn’t covered by the hat.

Hell, you even had on some adorable golden and lapis embedded clip on earrings - they wouldn’t dare pierce your ears for fear of hurting you and damaging your hearing.

People cooed at you in your Otter Pack™️ and you sucked that shit up, you were basically drowning in sparkles!~ All the while Furina and Neuvillette spoke above you.

“Are we sure we should bring mon preux chevalier? I mean, naturally we should share their beauty with the world but… in a place filled with criminals..?” Furina spoke in a hushed tone, not wanting you to hear her.

“I understand my Lady, but there is no one to trust to take care of them. Who will give them their favorite treats? Shine their coat? Scratch their tummy? No can do it the way we can, Lady Furina. Besides, we are here for only a Tea Party, it should only last around two hours with the matter we must discuss. Three hours at the latest.” Neuvillette replied. Though in truth, he had just as many issues with the whole situation.

It truly was a shame no one was as capable to take care of their darling Otter as them. *Dramatic sigh in French*

Arriving at the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, the duo were ushered inside and directly into Wriothesley’s office.

“Lady Furina! Monsieur Neuvillette! How nice it is to have you in humble prison. Please, follow me.” Wriothesley smoothly opened the conversation, leading the duo to his tea table. Finally, he noticed the Otter Pack™️.

“*Ahem* I see we have a… guest?” Wriothesley mused. See he hadn’t been on the surface for a bit, and news travels slow beneath the waves, so had had no clue of the big hydro duo’s new friend.

“Yea. This is Le superviseur officiel du jury du palais de justice de Fontaine. La Loutre de l'Opéra Eclipse*.” Neuvillette responded curtly. You chittered happily at the title you had just been given as off the last trial held. And Wriothesley only sweated at the long title.

“I… see. Anyway, if we are ready to begin…” And with that you stopped listening.

You had been here for barely a few minutes and you were already bored. See, usually with Furina, something would be happening. Something spectacular! Or intriguing! Never had you seen her in such a… boring environment. Hell, you could tell she was bored but you supposed that being an Archon came with other bullshit jobs other than being pretty and revered.

You hopped out of the Otter Pack™️ and snuggled up in Neuvillette’s lap, and noticed the extra teacup in front of you. Chittering, you sniffed and licked at it, then curled up once more.

You were trying to hide your boredom, but seemed to be failing as you felt Neuvillette’s fingers comb through the fur on your back. You basically purred at the affection, before sighing. Furina turned to you and called out to you.

“Mon ange? Are you bored? Well I, Furina, have just the cure!~” She said in a sing-songy tune. After, she waved her hand and in a puff of hydro, Gentilhomme Usher, Surintendante Chevalmarin and Mademoiselle Crabaletta were summoned.

You jumped up, messing up your hat and allowing Neuvillette to fix it, before the four of you jumped up to play. The three swam around you in the air while you followed quickly on the floor, causing the three to laugh. Though, Neuvillette noticed something.

Now, already he and Furina noticed you were smarter than other Otters, being able to understand human speech. You could solve puzzles, and once you had even helped solve a rather hard case! But this was… something else.

Gentilhomme Usher, Surintendante Chevalmarin and Mademoiselle Crabaletta and even Singer of Many Waters could speak… kind of. They had their own little babbly language that only Furina could only understand sometimes, and even then it was rocky. That’s why they mostly acted out their wants and needs with over the top gestures… but you.

An otter.

Could understand them perfectly.

You weren’t the only otter they had been summoned around, but then those otter would run away or stay around in curiosity.

But you could understand everything.

You could understand what a god couldn’t.

And that’s when something inside the Dragon Sovereign clicked.

He had been an avid follower of The Creator. The one Above all. Listening gently to all their false promises of bringing his brethren back. If fixing this world of its problems. He would watch as they only cared for themselves. As they punished anyone who went against them. Punished the innocent. As they lavished in the foods and clothes and jewels bestowed upon them by their followers.

Yet the flowers wouldn’t bloom in their presence. The wind wouldn’t blow gently through their hair. The ground and earth wouldn’t stop its quakes. The water would calm its waves. The lightning wouldn’t slow its descent. The fires wouldn’t lower their flames. The ice wouldn’t smooth over and slow the snow.

In fact, flowers would wilt when around them. The wind would whip into windstorms and the earth would rumble with ferocity. Water would rise to heights uncharted and lightning would strike behind their heels. Flame would rise higher and higher and fill the air with ash and snow would turn to hail, ice turning to sharp points around them.

It was the opposite with their darling Otter. He knew something was… not quite right with them. They always had this feel about them.

The melusine would act weirdly about them. Giving them wider smiles and now that he was thinking about it truly… they seemed to always know what they wanted. Even the Clockwork Meka would bow in their presence. When they swam it was always as though the current would work with them, and fish and other creatures of the sea would always surround them, following behind them… almost like…

A veil.

A veil that matched the one their creator always had on in every art of them.

On any statue.

In any painting.

In any description in every book.

They always had a veil.

And glancing at their beloved otter?

Their blue tuff of fur? They lined their back? Combined with the flowing fabrics of their top hat?

Created a veil.

“Excuse me Wriothesley, me Lady Furina must go discuss something. Please keep an eye on ma moitié for us please.” Neuvillette spoke quickly, gently gripping Furina’s arm as she protested, and they both left the room.

You and the three summons looked at the closing office door, then at Wriothesley. He stared back.

“Uhm… hello there, little otter.”

You only chittered in response.

And as Neuvillette and Furina rounded a corner, the Sovereign pressed a hand to her complaining lips.

“My Lady, firstly, my sincerest apologies for dragging you out here. Secondly, I believe I have made a… shocking discovery about our ˈbābē…” Neuvillette’s voice was hushed, making Furina nervous.

“What.. what do you think you found..?” She asked.

“I believe… our darling Otter… is the true Creator…”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Hehehehe… How will Furina react to this knowledge? What with Neuvillette do with this information? And will Wriothesley ever get over seeing an Otter so close to his Archon? Tune in next week to find out!~

Anyway, I love this and where it’s going! I haven’t had to write any angst and I feel it coming now! Hehehe ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

* The official Jury Supervisor of the Courthouse of Fontaine . The Otter of the Opera Eclipse