#you could’ve been a contender !!!

[fideidefenswhore]

[luveline]

Pls reader who’s always wanted a baby but is too scared to ask hotch to have one with her — he’s his usual understanding self and also whipped and nearly cries cos he gets all emotional?

—you and Aaron misunderstand one another. fem, 2k

You debate yourself for weeks, on and off, alone or with company, and aided by the internet. 

Is it okay to want a baby when you have a step kid? Does really wanting a baby mean I don’t like the first one? Your search engine spits out forums and web articles alike that say the same things —of course it’s okay. Wanting another kid doesn’t mean you don’t love your first; craving to be a mom to a baby doesn’t mean you don’t love Jack, even though he had his own mom when he was a youngster. 

You read a little about it. Books recommended by the articles, and stories from women who became step-moms to children with mothers who had heartbreakingly passed away. It’s a guilty thing to be the mom or stepmom to a child who’s natural mom has died. You might always feel cruel for stealing her moments, for loving her ex husband, and raising her baby. But Jack isn't just someone’s baby, he’s Jack, and you don’t think you could’ve helped yourself. You would’ve loved him no matter what. 

Once you’ve worked past two different types of guilt, you’re crushed by your reality. Jack is nearly nine years old. Your husband isn’t exactly spry. Like, there’s nothing wrong with him (besides a stomach full of scar tissue and partial deafness in one ear), but he’s not a spring chicken, either, and he seems content with your life. In what world would he want to change diapers again? 

The same world where he gets to kiss a little cheek, you think hopefully. Where you get to make it together. Maybe… he loves you enough to try, even if it’s not something he’s pictured. 

You settle, and you decide to be brave. You’ll ask Aaron to have a baby with you, and you won’t feel guilty. 

You realise you can’t face the answer, is all. If he says no it’s gonna break your heart. If you never ask you’ll never get one, unless it’s an accident, and that’s not a good idea, either, you’d never purposefully want a baby to find out later on that the dad doesn’t want them, even if you’d be enough. You know you’d be a good mom, and that you could deal with things alone. There’s an avenue you could take where you have your baby no matter what, it’s your life. 

If only you didn’t love Aaron as much as you do. The idea of being without him is a horror you don’t want to contend with. 

Aaron can sense your constant mental back-and-forth, though he hasn’t guessed what it’s about yet. If you give him time he might get there on his own. He watches you thinking and he wraps a hand around your leg. Weird thing to do, but he’s not normal. He’s a gentleman mostly. Rare moments like this betray his character, how he loves you, pulling your leg toward him and hugging it to his chest despite a strange angle.

“Honey,” he begins softly. 

“Not tonight, I have a headache.” 

“That’s not funny,” he says, smiling, “you know you don’t have to say anything else besides no.” 

“Can’t imagine being with someone who needs a reason,” you say, softly as he had as you lay back against a minky cushion, “‘m lucky my love’s such a gentleman.” 

“You can’t deflect all night.” 

“I was only kidding. Take my pants off and we’ll–” You gasp a laugh as he squeezes your thigh. “Shit, don’t do that!” 

“You don’t have to be so crass about everything,” he says, joking. And people would tell you he has no sense of humour. “I’m trying to ask if you’re okay. I know you’re dodging the question, but I was gonna persuade you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, letting your knees tip apart, punished by another awful squeeze. 

“Honey.” He kisses your knee. Your heart is pressed on from all sides. “I just want to know what’s upsetting you lately. I can tell it’s important, but I can’t work out what it is.” 

“It’s not. Not important, I mean.” 

“I’ve been putting my mind to it. There aren’t many things that could take up this much of your attention. I worried you might’ve been chafing with Jack, but you’re as sweet on him as usual. I worried you might be having second thoughts about us, but you’re not. You’re too careful with your wedding ring to have me think you don’t love me, and–” He rubs at your leg. “You’re as tactile as ever. You aren’t drawing away from us. I don’t want to think about it, but I’m worried you’re sick or something similar and you aren’t telling me.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you say, startling you both, “please don’t worry, I’m not sick.“ 

“You’re alright?” he asks. 

“I’m about as healthy as I usually am.” 

“But?” 

You can’t not tell him. You’re married. He loves you. While you’ve driven yourself crazy wondering how much, he’s been worrying you’re poorly. It’s unfair, and you can’t do it much longer. 

“I have been thinking about something for a while,” you confess. 

“And a lot.” 

“Yeah. I think about it every day.” 

Aaron turns your face to his. You’d have to change positions to kiss, your leg firmly locked in his grasp. He doesn’t lean in, holding your eye with a seriousness rarely given at home. He looks as though he’s had a long day. “I can’t think of anything you could say to me that I wouldn’t still love you by the end,” he says quietly. 

“It’s not about love.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Because there are things we won’t agree on.” 

“I can’t agree if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking,” he says. 

“I know. I’m not not telling you because you aren’t allowed to disagree with me, I’m just scared.” 

“Scared?” he asks, frowning now, that square wrinkle at his brow deeply carved. 

You have to build yourself up for a long time before you can say what you want to say out loud. He waits in the quiet, his expression impossible to read. 

“You know how much I love Jack.” 

Aaron’s hands are still on your leg. “Of course.”

“And how much I love you.” 

His lips part, but he doesn’t speak. There’s a dawning understanding on his face as he stops touching you, his hands falling to his lap resoundingly. “What’s going on?” he asks. 

You aren’t encouraged by his response. 

He doesn’t want a baby. Saying it is admitting to a difference between you both, one that might make him angry. You’ve never had him angry with you.

Usually, if he noticed your flicker of fear, he’d have rushed to correct it, but Aaron does nothing now. He simply waits. 

“I wanted to ask you to have a baby with me,” you say quietly, watching him for an emotion and finding him with a blankness he’s practised over years. You’ve no hope of discerning him. “But I don’t think you’ll say yes. I’m sorry. I just want it.” 

He swallows roughly. “Oh.” 

“I know it’s not something we’ve talked about much.” 

His hands return. His fingers slip up your calf until it’s trapped in the hinge of your knee, pulling your thigh to his chest. Hip to hip as you are, you’d think it would be uncomfortable, but he’s gentle. He leans down to rest his cheek against your knee. For a moment, you’re his to look at, squirming with nerves and depressed to have disappointed him. You fight the urge to run. 

“For a second I thought you were about to tell me you’d cheated on me,” he says under his breath. 

You startle. “What?” 

“You looked so sorry, my mind went straight to the worst. You looked like you knew you were about to hurt me.” 

His sincerity is aching. 

“I could never do that.”

“I know, I’m sorry for entertaining it…” He picks up his head. “I never thought you’d be scared to talk to me about anything. It was the only thing I could think of that you might’ve done wrong.” 

“I thought you were angry about the baby.” 

“Is there… a baby?” he asks tentatively. 

“No.” You rub the painful throb between your eyes. “No, there isn’t a baby. I just meant you’d be angry at me for asking. Disrupting our life.” 

“You think you’re disrupting us by expressing what you want?” 

“It’s a big thing.” 

“Can I put you out of your misery?” He turns to take your face into his hand. “I would never be angry with you for wanting something, especially a baby. And I can tell how much this has worried you, so while I can’t promise the answer is uncomplicated, I’m happy to say yes to you. If you want a baby and you want that with me, of course I’ll say yes.” 

“Jack–”

“Honey, you’re thinking too much about Jack. Children have siblings. It doesn’t mean you don’t love them. Is that why you brought him up first?” 

You look away, ashamed to be read. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t know everything.” 

“Honey, I don’t.” 

Your smile is unbidden and somehow deeply felt at the same time, chancing a happy look at him. He’s smiling too. “You’re serious? You’d have a baby with me?” 

He turns into you even more, raising his remaining hand to your opposite cheek, holding you sweetly, putting you nose to nose. “I wish you’d asked me before you worried yourself sick. I would love to have a baby with you, sweetheart. I didn’t realise it was something you wanted already.” 

“I want it with you,” you say, matching his low tone. 

“And I want it with you. How couldn’t I?” 

You fight the sudden heat of tears, your heart pounding in your ears. ”I figured Jack is growing up, you’re so busy, and things have only now calmed down–” 

“Who cares?” he asks, laughing. 

“I thought you might.” 

“I’m sure I will, but not right now. You want a baby?” He gives your head the gentlest squeeze between his hands. “Sweetheart. You want to have a baby?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Then let’s have a baby.” Aaron’s shaking his head, pulling you in, his lips glancing off of your cheek as he hugs you tighter than he ever has. You lose all the breath in your lungs. 

“Don’t hurt me,” you tease, relaxing for the first time in weeks in his arms, “or I won’t be able to have one.” 

“I could never hurt you like that,” he says easily. “Oh, sweetheart.” He says your name. He says it again. 

All that fuss for nothing. You confess on a high, “I want one so bad I don’t know what to do with myself half the time, I– I went to the mall a few days ago to look at the baby stuff, just to look, and I wanted to ask you when I got home but I lost my nerve.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I even picked up this little babygrow with flowers on the feet but–” You fluster at the memory. “Sorry, that’s so weird.” 

“It’s not weird.” He encourages you away with another rough swallow and scares you half to death —if he cries, you’re gonna sob. His eyes are definitely glassy. “We should go, you can show me.” 

“Really?” 

“We have to start preparing at some point, right?” 

You climb onto your knees and vault on top of him, arms around his neck, no chance he can get away. He takes it like a champ, returning your ecstatic laughter with a more content chuckle, a big hand spreading out protectively over your shoulder.

A baby, you think, unaware that Aaron’s thinking the exact same thing, with the same reverent warmth growing in his chest. A baby. 

[kindaasrikal]

So many people say Kai is the most similar to Morro. That he is the most likely to become like Morro. And as much as i agree, there’s also a clear contender for that spot.

And that’s Nya.

Not many people (from what I’ve seen) take note of how much Nya was at risk of becoming like Morro at times, the only thing potentially stopping her often was the love she held for others being much more protective than Morro’s ever needed to be.

Nya was raised as the younger sibling to Kai. Due to that, she wasn’t subjected to the same pressure or responsibility as Kai as the eldest did to protect Nya. Leaving her to watch, unable to do much.

Instead, she felt the pressure to become better and more useful because she wasn’t enough. Similarly to Morro, they were both raised in an environment where so much that they did was not enough. That they weren’t capable of protecting either themselves or others. It was due to that, that when they were given the chance to grow bigger than what they already were in the world, they took it with their own bare hands and moulded it to their own wish.

Nya, when she and Kai were taken in by Wu, was also trained by Wu. Not as much or as extensively as they had, seeing as at the time she wasn’t a ninja, but enough for them both to be assured she was capable of defending herself (this is mainly implied rather than stated in the show within the early seasons). Despite that, she knew she wanted and needed to be more so she can belong. So she can feel as if she wasn’t being useless.

She created Samurai X, and went out to do things better than how the ninja did.

Morro was a street orphan to put it simply. When he was taken in by Wu, it’s likely he was at the very least satisfied with what he had before beginning to climb up. Similarly to Nya, when the idea was placed within their heads to be something more, they did everything they could to reach that point.

Morro, however, instead of choosing to be something like or better than the green ninja, chased after it because in his eyes there wasn’t anything better than that. Nya, whilst she ended up becoming Samurai X instead of a ninja, believed it made her stronger than one. So when the prospect of being a ninja was brought up, I believe she was so reluctant and stubborn at the time because she believed she didn’t need it. She was already stronger than the ninja, she was more efficient and respected. Why would she need to be a ninja?

They both strived to be the strongest they could be and rejected the idea for settling for second best, in their own eyes.

Its with that and them both sharing the traits early seasons of extreme stubbornness, an uncontrollable anger at times, the belief that being stronger makes you better, and ambition that drives them to go above and beyond than what others expected.

And its with that i believe that Nya, in the early seasons specifically, was the most likely to ever become like Morro. Because the taste of power when it’s at a person’s fingertips can very easily corrupt them, but the taste of overwhelming power to a person who has none is like gold itself. Nya didn’t let it corrupt her, but she could’ve because of how much she was looked down upon. Morro let it corrupt him, but there could’ve been a path where he didn’t if he had realised that he already was enough to one person.

The parallels between the two shock me unbelievably so, especially seeing as how well it links to their connected elements connecting them. Even physically I’d say they’d look similar. At the very least with their lego figures they are similar in hair, like how Morro and early seasons Nya had the same/similar hair cut.

Yet now, Nya’s hair was able to grow longer than she had ever let it, showing how much she also grew as a person, acknowledging that power isn’t the only thing and that she is needed and wanted by so many. Morro, on the other hand, despite his stance on wanting to be the green ninja having withered away, is forever stuck in a state of un-change, a reminder of how much is actions only led to his own downfall, in the end.

I wonder how often Lloyd might’ve mistaken early seasons Nya as Morro.

Anyways this is a huge ramble and i might’ve mischaracterised Nya by accident, so forgive me for that. Even if it seems like i’m painting her in a potentially bad or selfish light, it doesn’t mean her character is based on selfishness. Giving characters potential flaws or analysing how they think is like my thing atp and i genuinely do think that Nya enjoyed the power and ability to finally do something, which isn’t a bad thing. But if tapped into wrong it could’ve led her down a bad path, is what i’m pretty much saying. She’s grown so much though now, in both the later season of ninjago and in Dragons rising. I’m so excited to see how they’re gonna characterise Morro now too seeing as he’s likely in the new season.

Okay im doen thsi is bad im disappearing now

[janeyseymour]

Second Chances

Summary: Melissa isn't so sure about you- until you convince her to give you a second chance.

WC: ~2.35k

“Just try it!” Jacob Hill is currently pestering Melissa Schemmenti. “You never know what you might find on there.”

“If I say I’ll give it a shot, will you leave me the hell alone?” the redhead rolls her eyes from the other side of the couch.

“Yes!” the social studies teacher exclaims. “All of the men and women that you bring here for a one night stand always end up eating my cereal…” he mumbles.

“Fine. But if I have to do this, then you have to help me set it up.”

“Gladly.”

So that’s how the two unconventional roommates end up spending that Thursday night- setting up a dating profile for Melissa on Hinge.

“You can’t say that!” Jacob cuts in when the second grade teacher wants to write ‘Fuck the Cowboys’.

“I am not using that picture,” Melissa refuses when the man wants her to put a picture of herself in a rather provocative position. “I have standards, Hill.”

“Do you really think that’s the best thing to say?” Jacob can be heard asking at yet another questionable response to one of the prompts.

But finally, a relatively agreed on account is made. And then the daunting task of swiping left and right is upon the two of them. They seem to agree on what is suitable for the bachelorette and what isn’t- for the most part.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Melissa mumbles at one point.

Jacob’s brows lift. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That’s my ex-husband,” the redhead mumbles. “Dumb ass.”

The social studies man thumbs through the profile. “Seriously, Mel Mel? You could’ve done so much better.”

“And that’s why we divorced.”

Eventually though, there are a few solid contenders. And you just so happen to be one of them.

On the other side of the screen, you come across Melissa’s profile. And wow- she’s- she’s gorgeous. You end up sending her a rose in hopes of your chances of her seeing you growing.

And she does see you. You can see that she ends up swiping right on you, and you take it upon yourself to attempt to start the conversation. You look through her account and see that one of her prompts leads her to admit that although she owns a guitar, she doesn’t really know how to play it. So, going off of that one little bit, you strike up conversation.

What if I told you that I’d teach you guitar? I’ve been playing for a while now.

“Jake,” Melissa sighs once he’s moved back to his spot.

“What? Did you get a match?”

“I got more than a match,” the redhead grins. “You know I still got it- Philly 11 and all. But… that one girl that we both agreed was beautiful swiped right and messaged.”

“What?!” the man gasps in his own trademarked way. “Well? What did she say?!”

The second grade teacher tosses her phone towards the social studies teacher. He just barely manages to catch it with a smile. And when he see the message, he begins to type.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Melissa’s eyes widen. “You gotta tell me what you’re typing before you se-” She hears the sent ringtone. “Jacob.”

“My finger slipped?” the man grins innocently as he tosses back the phone.

Green eyes look at the message, and Melissa has to admit that it isn’t nearly as bad as she was expecting. And with his witty remark, conversation between the two of you flows nicely.

It even carries into the next day, and then the day after that.

So, we’ve been talking for a few days now, you type out during your lunch break at work. And I usually suck at replying on this app.

Well, you’ve been doing a pretty good job with me, Melissa responds.

I’ve found that you’re the exception, you reply wittily. If you’d like, I can give you my number. But if you’re not ready for that, I respect it and can wait until I get to take you out to dinner to get your number.

Well, when and where are we going to dinner?

By the end of your lunch (and apparently her lunch period too, as you’ve learned she’s a teacher), you have a date planned for tomorrow for a happy hour.

I’m here, you text. Got us a table by the windows.

Just parked, Melissa tells you. Be there in a minute.

You clock her as soon as she comes into the restaurant. And she’s even more stunning in person than she was in the pictures. You didn’t think that was going to be possible.

“You made it,” you reply cheekily.

“You knew I was coming,” the redhead rolls those striking green eyes of her. It’s in this moment that you realize how sparkly her eyes are- how they’re filled with so many feelings, the golden speckles in her eyes appearing to shine brighter. Then she smiles brightly at you, and- wow. That smile could stop the world if it wanted to with the amount of charm it has to it.

The two of you end up talking for hours. She’s hilarious, and smart, and witty, and everything you could ever want in a partner. Not only is she absolutely beautiful, she has the brains to back it all up. And you let her know that.

“Well,” you chuckle as you’re getting ready to leave for the night. “I don’t know about you, but I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Same,” Melissa smiles at you.

“And if you would be up for it, I’d really like to see you again.”

When you think she’s about to agree with you, her lips quirk to the side a bit awkwardly. “I’m going to be upfront with you hun. I… I don’t know if I see this going anywhere romantically.”

“Oh.” You aren’t quite sure what to say.

“Don’t get me wrong hun. You’re great, and I really did have a nice time with you tonight. I just… I think I see you as more of a friend right now than a romantic partner.”

You take in a deep breath. You know you have to shoot your shot. “I respect that, but… hear me out?”

“Shoot.”

“I- I don’t make a lot of connections with people. And I think you’re… you’re really cool. You’re really pretty, and you have the brains to back it up. I haven’t met anyone like you in- in a really long time. So, give me one more chance- for you to realize that I’m the best date that you’re going to get off of Hinge,” you joke.

Green eyes look into your own. She holds her hands up. “Alright, you sold me on one more date.”

“Well, do you think I could get your number now? Or do I have to keep messaging you on Hinge?”

A perfectly manicured hand reaches for your phone and dials her number.

“Perfect,” you chuckle as you help her into her jacket and guide her out the door. “Where are you parked?”

“Down that way.” She points in the opposite direction of your car. “You?”

“Other side,” you laugh. “But I can walk you to your car if you want?”

Melissa shakes her head though. “I got it. Thanks though, hun.”

“Alright, Miss Independent,” you quip with a smirk. “Get home safe?”

“You do the same.”

And with that, the two of you part ways.

As you pull into your driveway, you text Melissa. Hey, I really did have a nice time tonight. That being said, if you really don’t want to go out a second time and were just saying okay to get me off your back, we don’t have to. I respect your decision.

No, I am a woman of my word, is the response you get back. I’ll give you one more chance- because I had a nice time tonight too.

Okay, you type. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling pressured.

Trust me. If I didn’t want to go out with you again, I would’ve shot you down.

“So?” Jacob is eagerly waiting at the door to hear all about how her date with you went. “You were out with her for a while! That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Melissa smiles. “She’s cool. I don’t know if I really seeing it going anywhere more than friends, but… she’s cool. And hot as hell.”

“Well, is there going to be a second date?” the social studies teacher prompts.

The woman laughs. “She practically begged for one.”

“And you said?” Jacob singsongs.

“I said I’d give it one more chance.”

You end up getting to see the redhead that you’ve been talking to about a week later. Meeting at the same restaurant makes you chuckle, but it’s nice. It’s a place that both of you are comfortable.

The date ends up being just as long as your first. And as things are winding down, you can’t stop yourself from asking the question that you’ve been wanting to ask since hour two. 

“So, do you still see me as ‘just a friend’, or have I convinced you?” you tease with a warm smile.

“Honestly?” Melissa sighs out, and you feel like you know where this is going. “I don’t know how you did it, but you convinced me.”

You have to stop your jaw from dropping. “Really?”

“Really,” the redhead chuckles. “Why? Does that surprise you?”

“It does,” you admit.

“I’ll be really honest, I wasn’t expecting to still be here. I expected to be here an hour at most before letting you down easily, but… I don’t know. There’s something about you, and I can’t quite place it, but: yes, you changed my mind.”

“I mean, hey… I’ll take what I can get,” you giggle.

The redhead rolls her eyes playfully as she smirks at you. “Yeah, you do that. Don’t let it get to your head.”

The two of you leave the restaurant, and this time she actually allows you to walk her back to her car.

When you go to walk away though, that low, gruff voice that you’ve become almost infatuated with calls back for you. You turn sharply.

“Did you seriously park on the other side of the strip?”

You shrug.

“Come here,” Melissa tells you. “Dumb ass.”

You jog your way back to her car.

“Get in.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting you walk three blocks in this freezing cold weather,” the redhead tells you. “So get in.”

You listen to her order- of course you do.You would be foolish not too. And besides, her ordering you around like this? It’s hot.

You direct her to your car, and before you can climb out you turn to face her. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” the teacher chuckles. “Maybe next time just park where you know I always park.”

“Noted,” you smile. And then in a bold move, you ask, “Can I- Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Instead of answering your question, the redhead pulls you in herself. And… wow. When the two of you pull away, you can’t help the smile that washes over your face. You pull her in for yet another kiss, and it quickly turns into something a little more. Her hands begin to wander your body, and when you feel her fingers begin to play with the hem of your jeans, you know you have to put a stop to this.

“Mel,” you husk out as you pull away. “Mel.”

“What?”

“Not that I’m not enjoying this, but… I don’t want to be someone that you just hook up with on the second date,” you whisper.

Her hands retract themselves from your body immediately.

“I- I actually like and respect you,” you tell her. “I don’t want to- I mean, I do want to… but… uh…”

“I know what you’re trying to say,” Melissa chuckles. “I- I guess I just thought this was what you wanted, and I- I’m used to being used for my body.”

“No, no, no,” you rush out quickly. “I am not using you for your body. I meant what I said when I told you that yes, you’re beautiful, but you also have the brains to back it up, and I- I really like that.”

“I appreciate that,” the redhead tells you quietly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you give her a sad smile back. “I’m sorry that you feel that people only use you for your body, but I promise you- that’s not me.”

“I believe you.”

“Good,” you reply shortly. “On that note-” you lean in and give her another quick kiss as you reach for the door. “Let me know when you get home? And when we can maybe see each other again?”

“I think I’d like that,” Melissa smiles. 

“You’re home late,” Jacob quips as he sits in the living room. “I thought you said you weren’t planning on staying out late with Y/N.”

“Well, plans change, Jacob,” the redhead mutters.

“So… you changed your mind about her?”

The second grade teacher smiles at the thought of what had taken place in her car about ten minutes ago. “Yeah.”

Melissa pulls out her phone to text you. Home. Thank you again for dinner tonight.

My pleasure, you reply. Glad you got home safe. Let me know when you can squeeze me into your schedule so I can see you again.

Will do.

“What’s got you smiling?” the history teacher inquires.

Green eyes go to glare at her roommate. “Nothin’. Just letting Y/N know I got back safely.” And when the man starts to ask another question, Melissa cuts him off. “No more questions. Goodnight.”

As the redhead prepares herself for bed that night, she can’t help but giggle with glee at how well the second date had went. She went from not being so sure about you, to almost being enamored with you and your charm and wit.

She sends one final text of the night. Without seeming too eager, I’m free next Tuesday.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits @morgananyx

[whatifitis]

♡ I See You - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando is under immense stress due to his career and he can't drag down his love with him. Will their relationship survive a horror movie?

Author's Note: This was requested and as soon as I saw it, I was excited to start it and I had so many ideas for this so I hope y'all enjoy it!

WC: 6k+ with some instagram posts

CW: poor mental health, a bit of angst, a kiss here and there, happy ending

-=+=-

479,271 likes

f1 Just one lap could’ve made all the difference for Lando’s race 😣

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User32 Lando needs to stop thinking he ‘should’ve won’ it’s starting to seem a little entitled.. The two ahead of him have 165 wins between them

User33 They completely ruined Oscar’s race

User34 the only thing he brings to McLaren and F1 is shame

User35 Geez people in the comments are so quick to say hateful things but don’t think about how their words hurt, lando is pressuring himself into doing good and yall just wanna hate on him at any chance you get

-=+=-

Liked by bestieusername and others

f1gossip sources close to the couple are saying that Lando Norris and Y/n L/n have split after just 7 months together

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User22 she was just one of the girls he’ll date for like a summer then leave when he’s bored. Can’t wait to see who the next slut is

User67 she lost color in her face since she’s been with him, glad she finally knows her worth

User54 she looked so bored recently, and i mean it’s her right since he practically love bombed her

-=+=-

“I can’t break you when I’m breaking.” - was all you heard before everything went silent. 

You and Lando had been together for about 7 months, not all of which was rainbows and daisies. 

When you first met, it was like stepping into the sun again after having spent so long in the dark. You had your fair share of heartaches before Lando. It was hard for you to give in to him at first, but after a few weeks, you gave in and you’re grateful for giving not only him, but yourself a chance. 

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating him. You knew he was a driver in F1 and that his fanbase could be quite protective of him. You also were aware of his crazy schedule with the races and meetings and training. Lando also told you about how he and his ex had to break up due to the invasion of privacy that was experienced, and how his ex simply couldn’t do it anymore, which is more than understandable. But even with every warning he gave you, you still stayed. 

These past few weeks have been chaotic though. Lando is a strong contender for the WDC this year against Max and there’s pressure and eyes all around him. You’ve watched as the media berated him for weeks and weeks, never letting up. Everyone has high expectations of him and it’s slowly destroying him, even if he can’t see it yet. 

You won’t lie, it has indeed had an impact on your guys’ relationship. Not only is distance and time difference straining you two, but the constant analysis and comments from the media have taken a toll. 

It was obvious to you that Lando would be gone for most weeks out of the year, but now, even when he is home, he’s not fully there. It’s like he’s a ghost in his own home, his own body. 

“You’re not breaking me” - you tell him. But you both know you’re lying. As much as you may love him, his distance has been something that has destroyed you. You started to wonder what you were doing wrong, how could you fix this? 

“I am, and it’s hurting me so much that I’m doing this to you when you don’t deserve all this shit. You deserve so much more. You deserve all the good things in life, like seeing your partner for more than a week, going to the grocery store without being stalked by fans, having someone who can be there for you, someone who won’t drag you down.” he says, tears streaming down his face. His hands are shaking at the thought of losing you, but he knows he loves you too much to let you down. He’s completely broken now. His heart aches and sinks every time he thinks about how you’re being treated. He doesn’t want to be the person who takes your sparkle, who makes you feel less of a person. 

“You’re not. I’m fine. We’re fine, love. I can handle it, all the shit that’s getting thrown at us. We can survive this horror movie.” you try to convince him… convince yourself, as tears are now streaming down your face as well. 

“We can’t. I’m not the way I was, I’m not the same person I was when we met.” you watch as he takes a shaky breath in, trying to compose himself, “All I ever wanted was to drive and race in Formula 1. But now that I have it, it doesn’t feel enough. As soon as I joined, so much pressure was put on me to be the best. When I started, the car was shit, so I helped make it better, and I did. I feel like all I’m doing is trying and trying to please everyone and to be who they want me to be, but it’s so hard. And this isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted to race and have fun, not drive myself to the point of destruction. I don’t want to be the machine that the team, media, and fans want me, and expect me to be. I feel like I’m giving my all to the team and to the sport but it’s not enough and it’ll never be enough. I feel like I’m stuck and I can’t get out no matter what I do. The one thing I wanted all my life, and now it’s mine. But it feels like I’m theirs.” he lets out an ironic laugh. 

You slowly walk to him, moving to hold his hands in yours. Without missing a beat, one of your hands gently lifts his chin, making his eyes connect with yours. 

“They’re feeding you to the wolves and it’s unfair. They cheer your name until the lights go out, then they throw you to the side and disregard you till the next time they need you. They’re not fair to you and it’s draining you. You have a look that I can’t recognize. You used to love this sport with all your heart but now it’s the thing that’s killing you.”

“But I need to keep going. I need to prove that I can be what they want. I need to prove that I’m not just some spoiled, ignorant kid who paid his way to this place. I need to show that I earned my right to be here and to have this seat.” he tries to explain. 

“I understand that, Lan. But we need to find a better way to handle all this. It’s clearly taking a toll on you and your health. It’s been a long year. You’re constantly watched and analyzed, with people documenting your every move to create sickening plots for their stories of you, of us. They expect so much, so you’re expected to follow, but that’s not how it’s supposed to work.” He pulls back from you, removing his hands from yours and taking steps back. You watch as he begins to pace the room, shaking his head as he speaks. 

“To know me is to hate me, and to hate what I’ve become. It’s to watch me fail over and over again, and I can’t keep doing this to you. I can’t let you hold my hand in yours anymore.” he says as he stops in front of you, trying his best to refrain from spilling more tears but it’s merely impossible. His biggest fear is coming into fruition, he’s losing you. He’s letting you go. He wanted to let you out of this mess before it was too far gone for you to come back to life. You gave him all of your best self and your endless empathy. 

“What are you saying, Lan?” you barely let out as a whisper, afraid of the answer. 

“I’m letting you go. I know I’m gonna sound like an asshole but I have to do this. All this shit is just gonna hurt you more. You can’t do this to yourself. It’s killing me to know I’m just bringing you down with me.” he practically pleads. 

“I stay because I want to, not because I feel forced to or like I have to. I do it because I love you.” your voice cracks with the last bit. 

“I’m sorry for all this. I care about you a lot and I hope everything goes well. I hope you get everything you could ever want. I’m sorry for all the mess.”

“Don’t be sorry. You are worth all of the shit. But can you please let me stay?” you beg through tears.

His lips are quivering, tear stains paint his face as he breaks himself in two. Cause truthfully, you will always hold a part of him. Through all the obstacles and shit, you stuck by him. 

“Goodbye, y/n.” is all he says before he turns his back on you, walking out the door. 

He didn’t even wait for your response, leaving as soon as he could because he knew if he stayed any longer, he wouldn’t have followed through with the breakup. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, in the middle of your living room. You had to watch the person you thought you would marry, walk out the door. You thought he was your forever. You shared your dreams with each other, planned out the house you two would grow old in. The house where you would have rocking chairs on the front porch where the two of you would watch the neighborhood kids run by, yelling at them to stay off the lawn. What dreams those were, dreams that would remain just that, dreams. 

For a while after the breakup, all you did was lie in bed either sleeping the days away or doom scrolling on social media. It got so bad that your roommate/best friend had to physically drag you out of bed after a week of letting you rot in it.

The first day of what your best friend liked to call “post breakup, glow up”, you guys decided to just have a self care day where you took it easy and ordered in food and did face masks while coloring in some books. 

It was fun and a nice distraction until your phone dinged. The look on your face scared your best friend so she looked over your shoulder to see who it was. Lando’s name was displayed along with a message, “Hey, how you been?”. 

Was this how exes interacted after a breakup? Typically after the breakups you’ve experienced, there was no contact. What’s Lando up to? You knew he didn’t keep in contact with any of his exes after their break ups, so why was he texting you? 

When you snap back to reality, your friend is giving you a concerned look, wanting to know what was going through your head so she could help in the best way possible. 

“Should I text him back?” You asked.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, babe. He still hurt you towards the end of the relationship, although not intentionally, but it still fucked you up a bit. I don’t want you to lose the progress you’ve made.”

“Yeah, I understand. I won’t text him back then.” You tell her as you turn off your phone and throw it to the side, picking up your marker and starting coloring again. 

You lied. You ended up texting him back later that night once you were back in bed, ready to end the night with what hopefully would be a decent sleep. 

You and Lando exchanged a few texts, mainly just catching up and seeing how the other was. You weren’t gonna lie, it felt nice to talk to him again. But what was this gonna lead to? Hopefully getting back together, but what are the odds? 

The occasional text conversations took place over the course of a few weeks. Lando knew he shouldn’t have been texting you, but he couldn’t help himself. The weeks following the break up, he went back and forth on whether he regretted it or not. He wondered if it was the best thing to do. 

Every day, he saw you in everything he saw or did. When he goes to get coffee, he swears he can still hear you laughing at the mustache of foam that would appear on his face after his first sip of coffee. 

When he’s outside in the park for a run, he’s reminded of you when he sees the rabbits hiding in the bushes. You always used to squeal out of joy and cuteness from the rabbits, even if you’d already seen them about 20 times prior. 

Every song, every film, every color reminded him of you. He thought about you every single day, wondering what you were doing and how you were. He even went as far as stalking your Spotify profile. He knew you made playlists for everything and he would watch your listening activity to see what mood you were in. 

He wasn’t surprised when he saw you listening to Taylor Swift and Gracie Abrams for hours on end. Those two were your go to sad girls. But he was surprised when none of the songs were about how shit the guy was. All the songs you were listening to were about regretting breakups and just missing someone. 

The night he texted you for the first time since the breakup, he had been gaming with Max and a few of his other friends, trying to take his mind off things. 

He didn't know what he texted you, he just did. He didn’t even have a plan for what he wanted to say. It turned out all right in the end though. You guys had a peaceful conversation and shared a laugh or two, for which he was grateful. 

Maybe you guys could remain friends? 

-=+=-

Liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and others

y/n_l/n i’m on my knees at the altar, baby

Asking God to wash you from my soul

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User4 he’s a waste of running mascara, you’re on to greater things 

alexandrasaintmeux the most beautiful girl in the world

User97 ummm, what’s lando doing in the likes?! Didn’t they break up…

User23 she was a fool for thinking she could be enough for him

User10 lando leave the poor girl alone, you’ve done enough damage 

-=+=-

Everytime he texted you, you came back. He’d ask to try again and you’d say yes. You’d come back to his place and spend nights there, only for him to break things off again. He keeps saying he can fix it and do better. But then he sends you on your own again. He keeps telling you how much he loves you, only to tell you he’s not good enough for you and that you should break up, again. 

For two months, the two of you went back and forth. You would break up one week then get back together the next. It felt like a game that you kept losing and you were tired of it. 

It felt like you were always taking one step forward and two steps back. Now you know, none of this is fair to you. You keep trying to give him your all, trying to be there for him when he needs it but he still doesn’t change. 

You know you’re not falling out of love for him. But you think you have to fully let him go now. Do what he did to you to protect you, but actually block him out after. Instead of stringing him along like he did to you. 

It’s a week before the Belgium GP so it’s now or never. 

You asked Lando to meet you in your shared hotel room as the Hungarian GP just ended earlier. He’d gotten P2 which is amazing. But he still wasn’t entirely happy with his performance as he thinks he could’ve done better. The team thinks he should’ve gotten P1 and that it would’ve helped gain more points for the championship. 

You would’ve preferred to pick a better time to do this, but there is no other time, at least anytime soon. But you don’t want to be stuck here forever, in this loop of false hope. 

When Lando gets back to your shared room, he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, picking at the skin on your fingers. 

“Hey, stop doing that. It’s not good for you.” He gives you a smile as he takes off his shoes and meets you in the bed. As he sits next to you, he lands a kiss on the top of your head and then a kiss on your cheek before finally connecting your lips with his in a sweet, warm kiss. 

“You said you wanted to talk to me about something? What’s up? Everything alright?” He asks, a bit of concern laces his words. 

You take a deep breath and sit up straight, trying to gain the courage to follow through with your plan.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You say. Lando’s heart drops at your words. 

“What’d you mean?” He stutters a bit.

It takes everything in you to look him in the eye as you say “I’m breaking up with you, for good.”

“Oh.” Is all that comes out of his mouth. He’s turned his body forward, staring blankly at the wall as he processes this.

“I’m sorry, Lando. But it’s not fair to either of us. We keep stringing each other along. Hoping for something that’ll never happen. I’m tired. It feels like I’m the only one fighting for us.” 

Lando suddenly sucks in a breath of air, furrowing his eyebrows and turning his body to you before telling you “no”

“No? Lando, what do you mean no?”

“No, we’re not breaking up again.”

“You can’t just say no. I’m- I’m making this decision for the both of us. For our best interest, we have to break up.”

“No, I’m not having it. I’m not doing it. It’s you and me til the end.”

“Lando, please can we ju-“

“Nope.”

You sit there dumbfounded at what’s happening. Is he refusing a breakup like it’s a piece of fish? 

You sit there and stare at him for a hot minute before crossing your arms and asking “why?”

“Cause”, is all he says before he stands up and goes to take a shower. 

Ain’t no way. 

You’re so confused and amazed at what just happened. He really just denied a breakup. 

As Lando took his shower, you took this time to process what happened and how to go about this conversation again once he comes back. 

After about 15 minutes, Lando leaves the bathroom in fresh clothes and stands in front of you, “what’d you want for dinner?” 

“Did you disregard my breakup speech?” You stand and ask.

“Yes. Now, where’s the room service menu?” He asks as he pads around the room, genuinely looking for the room service menu. 

You bring your hands to your face and roughly rub your eyes to try and approach this correctly. 

“Lando, stop thinking about the menu for 5 seconds and look at me.”

He’s stopped dead in his tracks and looks at you innocently. 

This guy. 

His bottom lip begins to quiver and his eyes become glossed with tears. 

With a bit of rasp in his voice he tells you “We’re not breaking up. I can’t lose you again, I won’t do it. You’re the best thing I’ve ever had and pushing you away was awful. I missed your laugh, I missed your jokes, I missed your loose hairs all around the flat, I missed your snoring when I tried to sleep, I missed you. Please don’t go again.” 

Tears are streaming down his face as he begs you to stay. 

“Lando, we can’t keep doing the same shit over and over again. We break up one week then get back together the next. You tell me you’ll do better and you’ll fix things but nothing changes. You’re still under immense stress and letting people walk all over you. I don’t know how we can survive this anymore if you don’t try to change that.” 

You start to wonder if breaking up really is the best solution. You would still be sad about losing him and you would still constantly worry about him. He would still be stuck in this toxic place where everyone puts all their expectations on him. Everyone would still harass him and analyze his every move. What would breaking up really fix? 

“Please. I’m standing here trying to be honest. We’re a thousand miles away from the day that we started, and I’m still in love with you. I just wanna forget everything that’s come and gone cause I hate not being with you. The stars don’t shine as bright when you’re not here.”

Slowly, you walk up to him, reaching for the sides of his face and using your thumbs to wipe away some of his tears. He instinctively moves his hands to your hips, holding you as tight as he can, as if you’re water in his hands. You look him in the eyes and realize you love him too much to let him go. You two love each other too much to leave it like this. 

“Hey,” you say softly, “why don’t we do this? The Belgian GP is next week, right? You’ll go do that and I’ll go home for a bit. After the Belgian GP, I’ll meet you in Glastonbury, yeah? We’ll spend your break there and we’ll try and sort out whatever’s going on up here?” You ask as you gently tap the side of his head. 

All he can do is smile, grateful for you and your patience with his shit. He nods his head yes before pulling you closer and holding you tight, burying his face into your neck. 

With a deep breath, you feel Lando relax in your arms. 

“Thank you.” He whispers in your neck. He can’t believe he’s able to keep someone as special as you in his life, even with the war in his head. 

“We’ll be alright. We’re okay”, you don’t say anything else, just holding him closer, knowing it’s enough for him right now. Maybe you two could try to go back where you started. 

Lando booked a flight from Belgium to go back to his hometown almost immediately after the race. He just couldn’t bear being away from you for so long, especially after all the shit you guys have been through, especially after all the shit he put you through. 

You decided that since he’ll be landing quite late, the two of you would spend the night watching movies and eating some home cooked food. The beginning of the healing journey could start tomorrow. 

When he landed at the airport, he was greeted by you with a massive sign that said “Lando Norris - STD clinic emergency shuttle”. 

The amount of laughs that the sign got was a joy to you. Especially the laugh Lando had let out upon reading the sign. He knew you were gonna pull some shit like this, although he was surprised you didn’t wear scrubs to add to the bit. 

With a big warm hug, Lando finally felt like he could start to relax and let go, at least until the next race. 

The two of you made your way to your car, then headed back to a secluded airbnb that you had rented for the next few weeks. Although the two of you were more than welcome to stay with Lando’s family, the pair of you thought it would be best if Lando had a place with some real peace and quiet to be able to sort through his mind. 

During the drive to the airbnb, you put on a playlist that you had made for drives with Lando at the beginning of your relationship. It had been a while since you’d played it, so it was a pleasant surprise for him when he realized what playlist was playing after a few songs. 

“I forgot about this playlist. Missed it." He gives a soft smile. The one he used to have before all the chaos had been inflicted. You can tell this little break will definitely bring back at least a small piece of your Lando. 

“I did too. Found it the other day when I was clearing my playlists. I added a few more songs as well. I know we usually pick the songs for this playlist together but I thought it’d be nice. Hope you don’t mind.” you tell him, wondering if maybe he’d be upset that you messed with the playlist without him. 

“Nah. I like it. Like a bit of a surprise for me.” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. You smile as you look at him for a moment. Your boy is coming back to you, slowly but surely. 

“Oh, don’t speed here. There’s always this one fucking guy sitting in a corner, ready to give anyone and everyone a ticket.” he tells you as you turn onto a certain street. 

“You know every road in this county, don't you?” you tease, watching as he gets a bit shy. 

“Yeah, let’s just say he may or may not love to see me coming. He used to catch me speeding all the time and he gave me too many fucking tickets.” 

You just sit there and laugh at him. Of course the Formula 1 driver always gets caught speeding. 

Once you pull into the driveway for the airbnb, Lando is smiling, already getting out of the car and closing his eyes, breathing in the fresh air and taking it all in. He’s excited and grateful for this break from the races. As much as he does enjoy the actual racing, all the other factors were pushing him to his breaking point. The sun was collapsing but he didn’t realize until everything came crashing down all at once. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you close the car door. He starts moving to the trunk of the car to pull out his luggage. You wait by the front of the car, watching him roll his way to you and taking your hand in his as he leads you to the door of the house. 

The second you unlocked the door and opened it, Lando ran in like a kid and immediately dropped all his belongings before flopping onto the couch. 

Yup, that’s my man. 

“You like it? Out of all the rentals available, I thought this one was the best. It’s a bit far from everything and there’s a hiking trail not far.” you tell him, walking to the kitchen to prepare dinner. 

Lando is rolling on the couch as if he were a dog trying to get into a comfortable position. His head pops over the back of the couch to look at you, “Yeah, seems quite cozy. Thanks for this, darling. I know I don’t really deserve you but I’m really grateful that you’ve given me so many chances.”

“Don’t thank me, love. I love you and I want you to be okay,” his cheeks blush at your words. It’s been a while since you’ve called him ‘love’, “Put something on the tv and lie down for a bit while I prepare dinner, yeah?” 

“You sure I can’t help you? I can peel a potato or something… okay maybe nothing as advanced as peeling a potato but I can boil noodles or something.” he chuckles a bit. 

“Gorgeous, last time you tried to boil noodles, you burnt the water. I still don’t know how you managed that.” you couldn’t contain your laugh at the memory. It was one of your first dates with Lan and he’d wanted to make you a home cooked meal. Take out ended up being delivered. 

“Yeah, alright. We’re watching Hannah Montana.” he said as he flopped his back against the couch. 

When dinner was cooked, you and Lando plated the food before moving to sit on the floor in the living area, using the coffee table to eat off. 

The two of you continued watching Hannah Montana until the episode where Blue Jeans became ill. Lan immediately changed the show to play the movie rather than the tv series.

“Lan, you do know Blue Jeans recovers at the end of the episode, right?” 

“Yeah but he still has to go through the traumatic experience of being bitten by that snake and I just can’t. We’re gonna watch the Hannah Montana movie now and slow dance to ‘Crazier', cry to ‘Butterfly Fly Away’, and dance to ‘You Can Always Find Your Way Back Home’.” he tells you sternly. He's made up his mind and nothings gonna change that. So that’s just what you do. 

When Taylor Swift appears on the screen and starts singing ‘Crazier’, Lando jumps up off the floor and leans his body towards you, holding his hand out for you to take. Once you place your hand in his, he pulls you swiftly off the floor, pulling your body close to his. You wrap your arms around his neck while his hands are secured on your waist. The two of you swing your bodies slowly and effortlessly to the melody that’s playing in the background. 

When the lyric “you lift my feet off the ground.” Lando does exactly that. He’s gripped your waist and lifted you in the air, bringing a squeal out of you as you were not expecting that. He keeps you above him as you let out a fit of giggles. Once your feet land back on the ground, you fall into Lando, trying to catch your breath. You listen to his heartbeat and hold him tight. He really is your favorite person. 

In true Lando fashion, he knows all the words to this song. As he should since he decided it was one of your songs a while ago. You watch as he sings the words to you, and you realize just how truly in love you are with the person in front of you. You would wait forever for him. He’s the closest to heaven you’ll ever be. 

Once the song ends, the two of you sit back down and continue watching the movie. You were cuddled up to Lando, wrapping yourself around his arm as he rested his head on yours, occasionally leaving soft kisses. 

The beginning chords of ‘Butterfly Fly Away’ play and Lando is already in tears. He’s already buried his head into your shoulder as he sobs about how emotional the song is. “He was always there for her. He tucked her in and turned out the light. He had to do it all alone!” 

All you could do to comfort him was hold him close to you and rub his back. You hummed along to the song, Lando loved it when you did that. You never sang in front of him, but when you did, it was like God's greatest gift to him.  

The end of the movie was near as the opening chords of ‘You’ll Always Find Your Way Back Home’. The two of you were already on your feet, ready to dance and sing along. Lando had even pushed some of the furniture out so that there was more room for dancing. 

With some crazy moves and a whole lot of jumping around, you and your love had the time of your lives. 

Lando is pointing at you when he sings the lines “‘Cause, when I’m feeling down, and I’m all alone, whoa, oh. I’ve always got a place where I can go.” singing completely off key but who cares, he’s having fun, and so are you. 

When the song comes to an end, you’re in Lando’s arms, trying to catch your breath again. But it feels impossible when everytime you look at him, he takes your breath away. The most beautiful man ever is yours? Crazy, really. 

You stay in his arms for a moment, looking into those eyes that looked like sunlight was filtering through leaves. 

“Home.” he breaks the silence, smiling down at you wholeheartedly. He cocks his head to the side before continuing, “You’re my home.” 

It took everything in you not to break down into a puddle of tears at that moment. 

Instead, you bring your lips to his, connecting them in a sweet, soft exchange. 

After putting the furniture back in place and cleaning the dishes from dinner, you lead Lando to the room you’ll be sharing during this little vacation. 

After a quick shower, Lando meets you on the bed, almost collapsing onto it due to the exhaustion he’s been in. 

There’s no need to exchange any words at this moment. You just pull Lando into you, watching as he rests his head on your chest and wraps his arm around your waist. You scratch the back of his neck, messing with his curls a bit as your other hand draws patterns on his bare back. 

After a minute, you feel Lan relax into you, watching as his breathing becomes shallow and steady. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep and you're thankful. He truly does need sleep, especially for the talk you two will have in the morning. 

You follow suit with Lando and fall asleep soon after him. It was the best sleep you’d had in ages. 

The sun shines through the thin, cotton curtains that cover the windows. Lando’s chest is warm against your back, his arm wrapped around your torso, keeping you close to him. The steady breathing lets you know he’s still sound asleep. You check the time, reading 7:24 am. It’s still a bit early so you decide to get some breakfast prepared for when Lando wakes up. 

You slowly and quietly move out of his arms, careful not to wake him as you know he won’t stay in bed if he knows you aren’t next to him. Once you’re out of bed, you brush your teeth and 

make your way to the kitchen. 

Breakfast is kept simple, just some overnight oats with some fruit and honey. After a few minutes of washing and cutting some fruit, you watch as Lando emerges from the bedroom, sleep lacing his features. 

“I didn’t hear you leave the bed.” he frowns at you. 

“Sorry, darling. I knew you were tired and I didn’t want to wake you so soon. But your timing is perfect! I've just finished preparing breakfast.” you smile gleefully, presenting him with a beautiful bowl of fruits and oats. 

The smile on his face is enough to brighten the whole room. “Thanks, baby. Looks amazing, as always.”, he walks around the kitchen counter to kiss you. 

Once he’s sat down and begun eating, you tell him your plan for the day, or his plan. 

“I was thinking we could go on that hiking trail I told you about. Getting some fresh air and some sun could be good for you. We could also talk a bit? About everything?”

You can tell he’s a bit uncomfortable from the way he stiffens when you mention wanting to talk. He was never really one for talking about himself and the things he’s struggling with. He much prefers listening but he knows he has to let you in a bit. 

Without looking up at you, he responds, “Yeah. Sounds good.” continuing to stuff his face with his oats. 

Once you two had finished breakfast, you put on your shoes and made your way to the hiking trail. 

During the beginning of your walk, you decided it would be best to get Lando to feel comfortable before jumping into the whole discussion of him and his mental health. So you begin by asking, “So, Tarkov, how have you been doing in it?”

He looks at you with genuine surprise, wondering why the fuck you’re asking about Tarkov when he knows it’s not your type of game. But, he answers anyway, “Erm, it’s turned into more shit and giggles if anything. A lot of messing with Max and them. Oh, the other day I stabbed Max’s character in the leg cause he stabbed my foot. And then I stabbed him again but his game was glitching so he couldn’t heal. He was actively dying and couldn’t stop it so I shot his guy. Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly joyful about that. But in my defense, he would’ve died anyway. It was a mercy kill.” he laughs to himself. 

After almost 45 minutes of walking, you guys stumbled upon a nice lake that was surrounded by trees. There was a shore with some large boulders so you led Lando there for a bit of a break from walking. 

You two sat there for a moment before you broke the silence to try and talk to him. 

“You know I love you right?” you ask him, watching him look down at his hands and start to fiddle them. 

“Yeah.” he responds quietly. 

“I want you to be okay, Lan. I can see you being torn apart by everyone and everything. I don’t want to watch you fall because you don’t deserve that.” “It’s hard, being me. I know I should be happy for everything that I have. I mean, I have money, a house, so many fucking cars that I don’t need, a loving family, and the most amazing and beautiful girlfriend. But, it feels like I’m drowning in everything with racing.” - he confesses, his tone is low, matching the way his reality makes him feel so small.

You scooch closer to him, taking his hand in yours, “I know it’s been hard. And you have the right to feel the way you do. You’re the person who gets the most shit right now with the media. They’re all twisting shit to fit their narrative. But you need to keep pushing back, don’t let them walk over you anymore.” “My mind is complicated. But when you’re here, next to me, it quiets a bit. I know that when I’m with you, everything is easy, like a million things can be thrown at me, but at the end of the day, if you’re here, I’ll be okay. I know I sort of broke you, someone I love so much. It’s all me, in my head. I burned us down and I’m sorry I did that to you. I don’t wanna lose you.” “You’ll never lose me, Lan. I’ll keep your hand in mine, until we’re food for the worms to eat, til our fingers decompose. This love of ours isn’t temporary. So I’m not gonna give up on us, on you.” - your hand touches the side of his face, bringing him to meet your eyes before you continue, “I’m still yours, even when you lose your mind and try breaking up with me a million times. None of this is your fault. You’re all I want.”

Tears begin to stream down his face as he leans his forehead against yours, “I just want you to know who I am, outside of the racing and the drama. I don’t want them to see me, just you, cause you’re the only one who understands me.”

You lift his chin so he can look in your eyes again as you say, “I know who you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine, and I’m never letting you go again.”

-=+=-

Liked by y/n_l/n, maxverstappen1, and others

Tagged: y/n_l/n

landonorris baby, you showed me what living is for and i dont wanna hide anymore

Thank you for everything, my love. I wouldn’t be where I am without you 🧡

View all comments

User23 now wait a min ✋ how many chapters did i miss?

User54 i told y’all they were fine! No way a couple as in love as them would ever break up

User75 alexa, play ‘that should be me’ by justin bieber 🫠 User13 omg, and the taylor lyrics 😭 she loves taylor swift and he dedicated it to her 😭😭😭😭😭

[bonesvoid]

Flesh & Blood / Metal & Machine

word count: 3.2k

pairing: zaun doctor!viktor x pit fighter!reader

contains: explicit content relating to violence and injury, death of multiple children, mentions of mass death, mentions of police (enforcer) brutality, reader has PTSD (PTSD flashbacks), medical trauma, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, drugs, illusion to drug abuse, HELLA angst, there's a somewhat fluff ending?, there's a scene that somewhat parallels the jinx shimmer operation scene so heads up to that

summary: you have a history with dr. viktor reveck, one that spans at least a decade. as a pit fighter, you frequent his small clinic for treatment, but after a particularly brutal fight, viktor's suggestion of you retiring and making a better life for yourself triggers heavy memories of your life before, your prosthetics a painful reminder of how you ended up in the pits

a/n: wooo this is a heavy one, but i'm very proud of it. remember to like, comment, and reblog! love you lots <3

Blood drips from your nose like a leaky faucet, your lip split in half. Your left eye is black and blue beyond recognition, barely able to see the man donned in white before you. Dr. Viktor Reveck’s gloved hands nimbly sew the last of the stitches on your scalp, looping the surgical thread and tightening it in place.

“Have you ever considered retiring?” his accent punctures through his words, as he passes you an ice pack. You hold it against your swollen eye and state to the doctor, “I got bills to pay, Doc. Besides,” you flash a grin, one of your fangs cracked from a previous fight, “Everyone loves me in the pit!”

“I’m well aware,” answers Viktor. He wraps up some gauze and shoves it up your bleeding nose, “You’re a top contender in the Pits, given how many of your blooded and bruised opponents I’ve seen over the years,” he removes his glasses, honey amber irises glistening under the fluorescent examination lamp, and pinches the bridge of his hooked nose, “However, you must admit that you’re…” he trails off.

“That I’m getting slow?” you hum, nonchalant. Viktor nods, “Yes, slow. Your words, not mine.”

“I know that’s what you’re thinking,” you huff, hopping off the rickety examination table, the crude metal joints in your prosthetic leg clicking with each step, “I could’ve dodged that hook, I could’ve blocked that kick, I could’ve gotten up sooner,” you tie any loose hairs back from your face, “Got any pain meds for me to take the meantime?”

“Unfortunately, my supply has been low,” the doctor remarks. He approaches his small desk and opens up the bottom drawer, “Other than Shimmer, I have a day’s worth of Oxy. Will that satisfy you?”

“I’ll take the Shimmer,” you jest. Viktor’s expression darkens at your ill-timed joke, “You know what you promised me,” he grabs a small pill bottle and slams the drawer close, locking it up with a rusty key. Viktor tosses the bottle of Oxy to you, “No Shimmer. You’re better than that.”

“Am I?” you question, pocketing the bottle in your boxing shorts, “What defines ‘better’ in this hellhole?” a bitter laugh escapes your sore vocal chords, too many hours spent screaming for the delight of the crowd.

Viktor sighs and puts his glasses back on, the lenses clouded from the occasional blood splatter. He walks over to you, the soft tapping of his cane accompanying his footsteps, and places a hand against your unharmed cheek, “Someone like you,” his voice is strangely soft, almost tender, “Someone who can get out of here.”

“Me? Getting out of here?” you scoff at the idea of vacating Zaun, “I don’t think any Pilties are interested in a beast like me,” your canines shine under the exam room lights, sharp and wolf-like, “There ain’t a place for me in Topside, Vik. If anything, you’re the one who can make it out of here.”

“My priorities lie with Zaun,” he retorts, “There’s enough doctors in Piltover.”

“But they get paid better,” you fire back, removing the used up gauze from your nose and discarding it in the trash can, “They have nice houses and fancy clothes and- Stop,” the doctor cuts you off, “My priorities like with Zaun.”

You size Viktor up, tilting your head with innate curiosity, “What’s with you?”

“What’s with me?” he repeats.

“You had every chance to leave,” your voice drops to a whisper. You take a few steps towards Viktor until you are eye to eye with one another. Viktor stares at you, eyes slightly wide and pupils enlarged, and you slam your hand against the wall, the strength of the prosthetic nearly putting a hole through the shoddy wall, “What keeps you here?”

“You know what does.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・

Over the years, you and Dr. Viktor Reveck had developed an odd relationship. Viktor was always a strange fellow; yet, as estranged childhood friends, you once held a small crush on the brillant boy who frequented the sludgy waters closest to the looming walls of Piltover. You admired his intelligence and his creativity, not to mention his cute face. Yet, you two would drift away, as Viktor left to study under the tutelage of a Dr. Corin Reveck and you enlisted into the mining corps to make a honest living.

Mining was hard labor, but it offered you security and a means of living. It even offered you a chance for love with a fellow miner named Erik, who you wed only a year after you met. The two of you, like many Zaunite miners, dreamt of a better world, a free Zaun, that you and the generations after could partake in. 

You were barely in your twenties when the Revolution failed, many of your own friends were killed by Enforcers for the crime of fighting for freedom. Erik shielded you from an Enforcer bullet, using his last words to tell you to run. The revolutionaries collapsed under the weight of their own guilt, children had been orphaned, and a mining accident left your left hand paralyzed. Any hope for a free Zaun died on that bridge.

It was only a few months after the attempted revolution that you received the worst news: you were pregnant. Regardless if your hand was paralyzed or not, you couldn’t rejoin the mining corps while pregnant–the fumes and coal dust were too dangerous for a fetus–so you resorted to finding your old co-worker and former revolution leader, Vander. He offered you a job as a barkeep at his bar The Last Drop and housing in exchange to help him raise four children orphaned by the Enforcers’ hand during the Revolution.

Little Vi, Powder, Claggor, and Mylo became your kids and with Vander, the six of you enjoyed nights of joy, rage, quiet, and so on. Those kids were your pride and joy, a core element to your soul. Yet, it wasn’t long before your makeshift family of six turned into one of seven, as you delivered your baby girl Sophia with the help of the brothel manager Babette and Vander. 

With the kids entering their teens, you were able to get the assistance you needed to raise Sophia properly. By the time she could walk and talk, Sophia knew the basics of fighting from Claggor and Vi, how to scavenge from Mylo, and ways to invent by Powder. A sad smile would always grace your lips whenever you saw the two of them tinkering together, it reminded you of your long absent friend Viktor. 

However, things quickly unraveled on the night Vi attempted to turn herself in for the explosion at one of the Academy District’s apartments in Piltover. You were left to tend to the children when Vander left to rescue Vi, you prayed to the Gods for their safe return. Hours went by before someone returned, Vi. She explained that Silco and something monstrous kidnapped Vander and took him to the abandoned cannery. Vi, Claggor, and Mylo assembled them to save Vander, but you told them that they couldn’t go alone. 

“I can fight!” eleven year old Powder exclaimed to you, as you set four year old Sophia next to her. You offered a restricted frown and informed her, “I know you can, Powder. You’re tough and strong, but I need you to watch Sophia,” you pressed your forehead against Powder’s, “Protect your baby sister. That’s your job, okay?”

“Okay��” she grumbled, pouting and crossing her arms. You ruffled Powder's hair and blew her a kiss, squatting down to see your daughter, “Hi, Soph,” you greeted with such a special kindness and love in your voice. 

“Mama!” she exclaimed in retort, holding out her hands to you, “Where are you gonna?” 

You sit down and pull Sophia onto your lap, tickling her stomach. She lets out squeals and laughs, as you tickle her to your heart’s content. You finished the tickling with a kiss to Sophia’s temple, “I have to go help your Pa, he’s in trouble,” you held her tight in your arms, “You and Powder are too young to come with, but I promise that we will be back as soon as we can!”

“Okay!” answered Sophia, resting her head against your chest, “Bye-bye, Mama.”

“Bye-bye, Sophia,” you murmured and touched your forehead to hers, “I love you.”

“I love you!” she flashed you her gummy baby-toothed smile. With one last hug, you tucked both Powder and Sophia in bed and bid them farewell for the night, exiting the basement with Vi and your boys in tow. 

Everything afterwards came to you in flashes. You remembered arriving at the abandoned cannery, finding Vander tied up; you remember Mylo’s lockpicking and Claggor working his way through the wall to make an escape. The four of you encountered the monster Vi spoke of; a mutated being glowing with purple veins, barely resembling a human. You watched Vi go toe to toe with Silco’s goons like a true warrior, only to get body-slammed by the monster. 

Then the explosion happened.

A catalyst of bright blue puffs vibrated throughout the factory, shaking the foundation. You barely had time to react, opting to shield the nearest person to you, Vi. Chunks of the wall fell off and crushed Claggor, his goggles flying off and splattered with blood. Debris and broken machine exploded towards Mylo, as a pole impaled him and more broken wall fell to crush him. You couldn’t shield all of Vi, as her lower half got trapped under rubble; with all the strength you had, you attempted to lift the rubble off her, only for a large piece to pulverize your hand. 

“Mama!”

Sophia’s voice rings out to you, “Sophia!” you yelled back. Why is she here?! Why!? With two of your kids dead and another trapped, you didn’t know what to do. You had to do something.

“Vi!” you called out to the redhead, “Hang on!” you tug at your hand, trying to free it from the rubble, but to no avail. Desperate, you reached for your small axe from your side and with a scream, you slammed it down on your wrist, cutting through damaged flesh until you cut off your hand. With a missing hand and heavy bleeding, you left the torture room and onto the catwalk, scanning the fiery remains of the cannery for Sophia. 

“Mama!” there she was, on a ledge by the window. With as much speed as your weak body could muster, you sprinted over to your daughter and caught her in your arms. With Sophia in hand, you ran back towards where Vi was being held, only to see another mutated beast ahead of you. It turned its head to you and you gasped, “Vander.”

A final explosion reverberated through the cannery, the most powerful of them all. Vander slammed through the wall with Vi and you followed, only to trip over some rubble, ��NO!” you cried out, as you lost your grasp on Sophia and she spun out of your reach.

“MAMA!” she wailed, crawling back towards you. An eerie clicking of a toy rang through your ears, but you had no time to think about it.

The blue light of the explosion made contact with one of your legs and eradicated every part of it from skin to bone. The world slowed down, as Sophia held her hand out to you, “Mama!” you powered through the pain and grabbed her again, throwing the two of you out the wall. 

You wrapped yourself as tight as you could around Sophia, as you fell from the second story. The corpse of Vander softened the fall and you gasped for air, still clinging on Sophia, “VI! VI, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“H- Here!” she answered, tears rolling down her cheeks at the sight of Vander’s corpse. You pulled her into an embrace, “Oh, Vi, baby, I’m so so so- Mama…” the weak croak of your daughter interrupted your condolences. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked Sophia. She touches her multi-patterned dress, a large piece of glass protruding from her abdomen, “No…” you collapsed to the ground, “No, no! It’s gonna be okay, baby! Mama’s gonna fix you! Vi- Vi-” you yelled for the redhead, only to see her missing. In the distance, you see Powder with Silco and his crew, her sobs piercing the air, “Powder! Powder-” 

You felt a prick against your neck and exhaustion took over your body, falling prone on the muddy ground. Your eyes flutter with sleepiness, your daughter still in your arms. A figure in black picked her up and you tried to scream, but your vocal chords were inoperable. The figure removed the shard from Sophia’s stomach and handed her back to you, allowing you to properly hug her. Blood stained your clothes, as you embraced your dying daughter.

“Love you… Mama…”

Your daughter’s last words, the final echoes of a life-altering night.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・

You heard someone call out your name, accompanied by the whining of equipment. Flashes of a ruffled brunette in a lab coat and goggles crossed your vision. Violent, hot pain suddenly engulfed you, as your screams were drowned out by the equipment. You thrashed against your restraints, tied down to a table. Your bloodshot eyes zoned in on the figure in the lab coat, trying to see who they were or where you were.

“I’m sorry,” the person in the lab coat spoke up, hovering by your left side. Their words were deepened by a strong accent. They placed an oxygen mask over your face and turned on the gas canister, forcing you to inhale an oddly vanilla gas.

“Vik…” you croaked, “Viktor…” you shut your eyes closed, falling unconscious once more.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・

“Because I’m your favorite creation,” you chuckle, pulling your prosthetic hand back, “You built me anew,” your prosthetic clicks and cracks when you move the joints, chipped titanium stained with various people’s blood from that night’s opponents, “You were even kind enough to equip me with the good stuff,” you spin the prosthetic around and extend the joints, “Titanium. That must’ve cost you a pretty coin.”

“You,” Viktor weaves out of your grasp and sits down at his desk, “You would have died if I had not intervened,” 

His words make your blood boil like bubbling pits of lava; you kick your prosthetic leg upward and smash it against the side of Viktor’s leg, embedding itself into the metal overhead cabinets, “I should have. I should have died with my daughter.”

“She’s-” you cut him off with a grab at his chin, digging your human nails into his skin, “You don’t speak her name, don’t utter a syllable of her name in my presence.”

Your debut into pit-fighting was spurred on by the death of your daughter and other loved ones during the cannery explosion, The Last Drop now under the control of Silco and the Chem-Barons reeking havoc on the streets of Zaun. After the implementation of your prosthetics, you were nursed back to health with Viktor and Dr. Corin Reveck–now a disfigured man, but not lacking in his genius–through rehab and modifications. Yet, you had no prospects, no means of living without your baby girl. It was only when you saw a flyer for new fighters needed in the Pits that you regained somewhat of a spark, albeit a violent one.

“Why didn’t you leave me?” you pull your leg back and plop down on Viktor’s lap, dangerously close to the doctor’s face, his pretty moles on display for you, “Why didn’t you let me die?” you clench your fists, fighting back tears.

To your surprise, Viktor sets his hand against your back and strokes it, bony fingers cold against your hot skin. Tears spill from your one functioning eye, as you collapse into Viktor’s arms, “Why didn’t you let me die!?”

“I-” he inhales, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your head finds its way into the crook of the doctor’s neck, a perfect fit. He exhales, “I love you.”

“Wh- What?” you stammer, the adrenaline from your earlier fight finally wearing off.

“I love you,” he whispers again, “I tried to save both of you.”

“You did?” you ask, tears dropping onto Viktor’s button down.

“S- She didn’t make it to the lab,” he croaks, as he rubs your back, “She lost too much blood that doing a transfusion wouldn’t have saved her,” tears form in Viktor’s eyes, “She looked so much like you when we were kids.”

“She was my baby…” you stifle back a sob, “The last part of my husband’s love. I’m alone.”

“No, you’re not alone,” Viktor tilts your chin up, his honey amber irises gazing into yours, “I can take care of you. It may not be much, but you can have your second chance. That’s why I- I fixed you, so you try again. They’re gone, but you’re still here. You must live on for them.”

You bury your face into Viktor’s chest, “I feel like a beast.”

“Then let’s make a new life,” Viktor hugs you tightly, “You and me. No pit fighting, no more violence, no more pain,” he touches his forehead to yours, “Come with me, we can start fresh, together.”

You pull back for a moment and cup Viktor’s hand with your hands, one human and one machine. Your fingers–flesh and metal–stroke his cheeks and you smile through your tears, “As a kid, I always had a crush on you, Vik,” you laugh softly, “But then you left with Dr. Reveck and I had to move on.”

“I never did,” he confesses, “You were all I thought about when I was under Reveck’s care. After completing my training with him, I tried finding you, but by that time, you were married and I didn’t- I couldn’t interfere with that.”

“Then the Revolution happened,” you add on.

Viktor nods, “Then the Revolution happened. I treated so many wounded and I- I thought you were among the casualties when I saw your husband’s body. I couldn’t find you, so I assumed the worst.”

“Erik saved my life,” you explained, “Then I found out that I was-” your voice shakes, “I couldn’t return to the mines, so my friend Vander took me in. I became a mother, I was a good mother,” you wipe away tears, “I lost all my kids–all my babies–that night.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs in your ear, brushing your hair with his pale fingers, “I wish- I wish- I could fix that, but I can’t.” 

You sniffle back some snot and reply, “I know,” you dry your face of any remaining tears, “But we must live on for them, right?”

“Right,” he confirms.

You hop off Viktor’s lap and extend your hands out to him, “Then let’s live on for them.”

Viktor holds back a surprised laugh and looks at your hands. He accepts the one made of flesh and pulls himself up, using the one made of machine to steady his balance.

“Let’s live on for them.”

[thirteenducks]

rest for the weary

(neuvillette x fem!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to as 'girl'), no established relationship

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.9k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic? sort of?, mild hurt/comfort, gentle and tender Neuvillette, being overworked, fainting, neuvillette is sexy in a paramedic kind of way, crimes against gloves, almost-crimes against pastries, "you will be taken care of So Help Me" neuvillette, very self indulgent, can you tell i'm a college student

༻❁༺ author’s note: blame my mutuals for putting talk about neuvillette being gentlemanly and kind on my twitter feed. this is their fault and also the four glasses of sangria i drank before i wrote this

Neuvillette would like to believe he understands human behavior quite well by now. What he does not understand is their tendency to be self-sacrificial to the point of exhaustion. When your stress reaches a fever pitch, he steps in.

You don’t remember if it was the fatigue or the hunger that you noticed first. Both have been on the fringes of your consciousness since you left your bed early this morning. Right now, they’re kept at bay only by a lingering headache that worsens as you step out into the clear day.

The beautiful azure of the morning sky above. The flocks of pigeons that dapple the steps of the Palais Mermonia like sunlight through leaves. The hum of the Court of Fontaine as coffee sales begin for the morning. All are lost on you as you forge ahead, feet barely clearing the cobblestone below them.

The papers on your desk, stacked high and demanding attention, are all that your bleary eyes register at the moment. Anything else is secondary.

As much as your conscience would contend it, your current predicament isn’t entirely your fault. Sure, you had procrastinated a bit when the pile of records was first assigned to you, and maybe hadn’t chipped away at it the way you could’ve if you planned ahead. 

For a gestionnaire, though, it’s also just that time of year when the clouds pour rain daily and the opera house sees a never-ending rotation of cases.

So if that means some sacrifices on your side are required, you’re willing to make them for the good of the Court. You’re certainly not the only one, either. The circles under the Chief Justice’s eyes always grow darker during the rainy season; you hope he’s taking better care of himself than you are.

Once you’ve gotten rid of this batch of paperwork, you’ll be free to rest for a while, you tell yourself. You can take a break. Maybe you could walk to that cafe down the street with the nice cashier and get yourself breakfast, if the rain isn't too bad by midmorning.

Your knees waver under you as you carry the precarious stack of records to the threshold of your office. On second thought, maybe you should ask if they offer delivery.

The low murmur of a familiar voice, a pleasant bass melody, reaches you as you step out into the plush carpet of the hallway. It floats through your dizzy head like syrup.

Good. You won’t have to walk far to give these to Neuvillette, then. You’re not sure your feet would carry you all the way to his office anyway, and you’d rather not field any uncomfortable questions about your health from such an esteemed man. 

Assuming what you hope is a pleasant expression, you approach the Iudex and Sedene as he bends at the waist to inspect a bump on her antler. 

There’s a very becoming look of concern on his face, you notice. It must be nice to be the focus of such care.

The unfazed voice of a Melusine comes from somewhere below you: “I promise it’s just a mosquito bite, Monsieur. I must’ve stood around the docks for too long this morning.” 

“Even so... I would administer some anti-inflammatory soon, Sedene. Please don’t neglect your health,” he chides as he pats her head affectionately.

Neuvillette rises again to his full height, catching your eye as you draw near to him.

A fetching smile upturns the corners of his mouth. He greets you with a stately nod, holding out his right hand for your stack of records. Your gaze flits to his other hand, currently engaged by an apple turnover.

Ah. A gift from a Melusine, no doubt. You hope he enjoys it, even if a part of your brain wants you to snatch it for yourself.

If Neuvillette catches the way your eyes linger on his breakfast, he doesn’t mention it. What he does is quirk his head to the left in a silent question as he continues to stand with his hand outstretched.

Oh, archons. How long have you been standing in front of him with a blank look on your face? Too long to be appropriate, certainly.

Clearing your throat and forcing a smile, you take a step forward to hand off your pile of papers to him. Only, instead of making contact with the floor of the hallway, your shoe falls into thin air as your other knee buckles and your back falls towards the carpet.

As your consciousness slips, you feel a cool hand snake around your waist.

Your head goes limp, bouncing a bit with the impact until the pastry drops to the carpet and Neuvillette’s other gloved hand comes to cradle the back of your neck.

He’s caught you. He wishes you were awake to instruct him what to do next.

He lowers you to the ground softly, brow creased with worry. Sedene stands next to him with a similar expression, holding the turnover she saved as it fell. 

“Sedene. Bring me a pillow from the sofa in my office, please. Quickly.”

The Melusine salutes and she darts off. His eyes never leave your face as he kneels, large frame bent over you protectively.

Releasing your waist, he brings a hand up to his teeth and tugs off the glove in a smooth motion before resting his bare fingers against your forehead. A curse in a tongue unknown to all but him breaks the quiet air and his brows knit together. Humans and their damned self-sacrificial nature.

Sedene returns holding a cushion. He eases it under your head with care, ensuring your neck is supported before he retracts the hand underneath.

There in the Palais hallway, the Iudex of Fontaine strips himself of his judge’s coat, uncaring of decorum at the moment. Gentle hands graze your bare skin as he wraps the garment around your shoulders. Were you conscious, you would feel the softness of the silk lining against your cheek and the scent of the ocean it carries with it.

He knows from his extensive observations of human behavior that you’ve probably only collapsed from fatigue, not sickness. And yet… and yet he cannot keep himself from stroking your forehead, cool fingertips resting there as he meditates.

Another moment passes before he makes up his mind. Your body rises from the carpeted hallway floor into strong arms, seldom-seen muscles flexing under his white undershirt. 

The change in altitude brings you halfway out of your daze. Through hazy vision, you catch the sight of pale skin moving above you. His slit eyes meet yours and you don't manage more than a small sound of confusion before you’re pulled back under by sleep.

With a brief nod to Sedene, Neuvillette carries you to his office in a few quick strides. The door slides shut behind him.

Your hands unconsciously tug on his lapels and you curl your body closer to the warmth of his chest, making his ears burn.

Every time he thinks he understands your species, something like this happens. 

He had certainly noticed your energy waning over the last few days, but he worried about the propriety of mentioning such a thing to you. Would you resent him for asking about something so personal? Should he send someone closer to you to step in before you hurt yourself?

In the end, he had settled for bringing you breakfast from a nearby cafe. He glances at the turnover, now sitting innocently on his coffee table courtesy of Sedene. It taunts him.

The silence in his office is deafening as Neuvillette lays you carefully on the sofa next to his desk. He runs through the list of human vitals in his head.

You’re breathing quite deeply. Your pulse is healthy and strong as his fingers press against the side of your throat. The color in your face is returning to its normal shade. Surely all you lack is a good meal, which he can certainly provide, and some rest. 

Then why do his hands shake as he pours tea into a cup on the table before you?

Why can he not keep his eyes from you as you sleep, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm? 

Why does he find it impossible to return to the paperwork that calls his name just a few feet away?

A clap of thunder shakes the building.

He doesn’t realize how long his eyes have been trained on yours until you’re staring back at him through lowered lids, awakened by the noise.

It takes about a half second for you to remember the circumstances of a few minutes prior and gasp, sitting up with a speed that makes Neuvillette reach towards you in concern. His coat falls from where it was draped across you and you stare at it, unblinking. 

Your gaze flits to Neuvillette, bare to the wrist. He watches silently as you register the sofa you’re laid upon and the lavish office around you.

The Chief Justice makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when you rush to stand up, face burning. Your head spins - whether from fatigue or embarrassment, you’re not sure. A million apologies threaten to spill from your mouth at once.

With your head bowed and your feet unsteady below you, you don’t see the hand rising to your face until a cool sensation spreads over your flushed forehead. The surprise of it shuts you up immediately. When you do dare to raise your eyes, you hardly trust what you see in front of you.

There is no anger in the face of the Iudex, in the downturned curve of his mouth or the crease of his brow. Only tender concern presents itself as he addresses you.

“You appear to be feverish. Please, sit back down. I won’t have you fainting again if I can help it.” He removes his hand from your skin, leaving behind a burning sensation that you can't attribute to a fever.

“Mon- Monsieur?”

He tuts, raising the cup of tea to your hand and folding it into your grasp. “Drink, please,” he murmurs, face etched with care. 

You blink a few times, sipping the drink as if compelled by magic. It's sweeter than you’re expecting.

“Good girl.” 

You nearly choke on it.

If possible, Neuvillette looks even more distressed by your sudden coughing fit. “You’re far redder than when you awoke. The fever reducer in this blend should help with that, but in the meantime, please take some of this…”

The minutes pass quietly. Periodically, Neuvillette instructs you in a gentle tone to drink your tea or eat a bit of pastry. He absolutely forbids you to stand after the second time you attempt to excuse yourself.

When he's been assured that you're comfortable, he speaks again.

“May I ask why you believe those papers you were attempting to bring me were worth working yourself to exhaustion over?” 

His words are authoritative, but his voice carries such softness that you can’t help but be honest with him.

“I’m so very sorry, Monsieur. It won’t happen again. I’ve just had a lot on my plate this week.”

Neuvillette's violet eyes are melancholy as they meet yours. “Of course. It’s a busy time of year for us all,” he says, shifting his gaze to the steady rain outside. “I do hope you know, however, that I would far rather your work be late than your health to fail on my account.”

You duck your head. “...I understand, Monsieur.”

The man’s stately expression fades into something unreadable at that.

“...Please, call me Neuvillette.”

You were unaware that his voice, so commanding in the courtroom, could sound so tender directed at you.

Your gaze darts up from the floor. The Iudex is not meeting your eyes. His are fixed instead on the light drizzle pattering the windowpane. A faint swathe of color decorates his lofty cheekbones.

As you smile and nod your head, pronouncing his name with a few words of thanks, the morning sun streams into the room behind you.

It’s getting to be quite the lovely day outside.

[mythmerth]

from my October readings, I’ve collected a few more merlin fic recs for the people…

For favorite long (80k+) fic, I would have to pick another fic by horsecrazy, this time All Things Loved and Lovesick. It’s 90k and GODD these idiots I love them so bad. They’re just trying to take care of farm animals, elbow deep helping animals give birth at 3 AM all the while desperately wanting each other. I screamed a bit when they finally kissed I won’t lie.

For favorite mid length (30k-80k) fic, there were a LOT of contenders (most of my extra recs could’ve fit here) but I would have to pick From Where You Stand by fifty_fifty. The concept there was one I haven’t seen a whole lot (body swapping their way into a magic reveal) which surprises me cause that sounds so merlin-esque??? really loved the chaos brought on by that

For favorite short fic (<30k), I would have to choose Into Perdition by athousandvictories. If there’s one thing I’m a sucker for it’s religious guilt themes, and if there’s a snarky merlin in there too even better. the tension and resolution in this is just Delicious and Merlin is so bold I’m living for it.

And here’s a few more rapid fire October reads that I enjoyed!

An Illusion of Sorts by lordvoldemortsnipple. looove the magician x magic crossover

Chrysalis by i_canz_kill_dragon, a very well done coming of age/personal acceptance story

Tales of Magic by amithia. The coffee shop subtle magic OOO i eat it up, i love the take on Merlin’s magic being just this little instinct.

Awake by corilannam and phoenixacid- this is definitely a great and unique arthur returns scenario, with all the questions and mystery and love involved

Arthur Pendragon VS the World by Ally_Oop. more modern than the last but yet another unique take on Arthur returning, very well done and makes you wonder what the hell is happening

Swans Lost in the Stream of Time by DracoWillHearAboutThis. reincarnation memory returning goodness

I didn’t reread anything in October which is crazy because it’s the first month since May of this year that I haven’t! instead, I will recommend one of my most reread merlin fics: Rule Number Four of which the account has been orphaned. I love the silliness and tension and multi identity aspect of it, just such a good work all around for whenever you want a goofy, modern, powerful merthur duo.

That’s all for October, I’ll be back in a few weeks for my November recs and then soon after that I’ll be doing my 💫yearly merlin fic reading💫 stats (of which are very very unhinged). 2024 has been diabolicalamazing for my merlin readings and can’t wait to share 😁

and if you’re still looking for more recs then check out my other posts ~

<< last month next month >>

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 4 || 641 Words || Read on Ao3 —

4 October 1985

Harry bounces between his parents, one hand clasped in each of theirs as they walk through the streets of Hogsmeade. “Can we go to Honeydukes after lunch?” he asks eagerly, grinning a gap-toothed smile.

“How else would we round out our Hogsmeade trip?” James asks, lifting his arm up a bit and causing Harry to kick and giggle.

“We should stock up on Peppermint Quills for the holidays,” Lily grins down at him, stepping through the door to the Three Broomsticks that James holds open for them.

“Happy birthday!” Harry shouts into the room, and Lily and James both look up to where Minerva McGonagall sits at a booth not too far from the entrance. A serene smile spreads across her face as the small family makes its way towards her.

“Thank you, Harry,” she nods, accepting the hug he offers her as his parents echo his sentiments before sliding into the booth across from her.

“I didn’t see many students milling around,” Lily muses, craning her head to look out the window. “Is it not a Hogsmeade weekend?”

“The first Hogsmeade trip for students is next weekend.”

“Well thank you for stepping out of the castle to meet us,” James says with a smile. “You know how much I hate to cause you trouble.”

This earns a laugh from the older woman, whose brows raise in interest as James slides a large envelope across the table.

“I know I could’ve owled it, but there’s something more satisfying about handing it to you directly.” He watches as she opens it and scans the first page. “I’ve been focusing on the intersection between Transfiguration and Charms theory the last few years, and would love to discuss it with you. Maybe Filius, too, if you think there’s enough merit there.”

“We brought a real present for you, too!” Harry chimes in, pushing a small, wrapped box across the table.

“My, well…” Minerva’s eyes flit between the box and the research in her hand, before settling on the small boy in front of her. “Thank you for the gift. All of you,” she adds, gaze wandering up to the parents. It lingers there, shifting from Lily to James and back again, and something in her eyes softens as she looks at them—two of her pupils, years out of school, with a horrible war behind them and a happy family.

“The thesis on this looks good, Potter,” she acknowledges, shaking the parchment and herself out of her nostalgic stupor. “Term is in full swing right now and I want to give this the proper attention. I likely won’t get to it until the students start revising for end-of-term exams—perhaps we can discuss it in detail around the holidays once I’ve had a chance to read?”

James nods. “Of course, at your pace.”

“We’d love to have you over to the cottage for some Christmas tea again,” Lily invites, raking her fingers through Harry’s hair as he fidgets in his seat.

“I’d like that,” Minerva nods, eyes darting down to the young boy. “Besides, I imagine I should be enjoying all my winter breaks while I can. With this one starting Hogwarts in a few years, I’m sure I’ll be needed at the castle over the holidays to undo his messes, if he’s anything like his father.”

A warm grin breaks out on Lily’s face as she looks down at Harry. “He’s not that much of a troublemaker. I like to think there’s a good bit of me in there.” She looks across at her old professor as her hands slip to cover Harry’s ears. “Though we do have to contend with the Sirius influence,” she adds in an exaggerated whisper.

This earns a laugh from both Minerva and James as Madame Rosmerta sweeps up to the table to ask for their order, and the birthday lunch truly begins.

[sepublic]

The Owl House S2’s Political Horror

            Another bit I dig from S2 is just… The growing, pervasive sense of hopelessness that begins in the background but becomes more and more clear until it’s overwhelming.

            Like the way S2 begins with Belos’ propaganda going just as strongly as ever, if not moreso; The confirmation that Belos spinning the narrative of the S1 finale in his favor did in fact work to discredit Eda, thereby killing off the rebellious momentum our protagonists had built up. There’s an attempt at a rebellion, but it gets detained by Darius and Eberwolf. Eda obsesses over what Belos’ planning, but what can she figure out?

            And then Follies at the Coven Day Parade, which ends with all the people of the isles cheering for Belos without any awareness, our protagonists forced to watch, cursed to know but not taken seriously, like Cassandra; And it’s only going to get worse! Those within the Emperor’s Coven are suspecting it but can’t do anything themselves.

            Things have always been getting worse since Eda’s childhood, when the streets were nicer and so were the covenscouts, because this generation really thought it was making the world a better place, not cultivating a system that encouraged cruel behavior that comes to fruition in the present generation.

            Sure we get confirmation about Darius and Eberwolf working with Raine… But there’s Hollow Mind, where our main protagonists haven’t made any progress, and people still don’t know any better. Luz wonders aloud how people don’t get it, only for the devastation that she herself was tricked, and how this breaks her confidence in herself; And the revelation that Belos’ endgame was worse than what anyone could’ve imagined!

            The very next episode seemingly offers some hope and reprieve, maybe there’s an army to stop Belos; Only to break King as well, dash his hopes of meeting his father, and confirm there’s another problem out there. Labyrinth Runners has some triumph, but in the end it’s a small battle, not the war; Hunter still has to explain the cruel reality at the end. There’s no hope.

            No wonder Eda breaks down. No wonder O Titan, Where Art Thou is so melancholy; It’s a deeply sobering story of knowing all the world and people are marching to their doom eyes wide open, thinking it’ll work out. The worst part is that they’re not even being cruel or stupid; They just don’t know better, there isn’t enough time to educate people, not enough resources. The odds are so deeply stacked against you. There’s nothing you can do to stop them, and it’s existentially terrifying and disturbing.

            It really is you and your select group against all of society, it’s practically hopeless. You have just this last bit of hope to work off, this plan… It’s all down to a select group of people. And it turns out those people are doomed to fail; And even Luz’s last-ditch attempt to convince Belos fails. Even her last-LAST ditch attempt by ensnaring him in his own draining spell fails, because Belos never considered he might ever have a reason to turn it off.

            In the end, our protagonists just barely eke out a victory, and at the cost of letting the Collector reign supreme, with Luz thinking for months this was a genocidal monster and being cursed with having no idea what happened for a while. And when she and the others enter the isles, all they can do is hope it can work out, that they can find a way to stop the Collector; And thankfully, not everything is as bad as it seems!

            Man. It’s just the way things become bleaker and hopeless both on a societal level, but also on a personal level for characters like Luz and King, who have their personal baggage to contend with, and hopelessness regarding who they are and their personal identities and goals. Perhaps a lot of it was just being in the right place at the right time, barely; But they tried, and they did good, wherever they could. As Luz learns, sometimes you can do your best and still fail because life is just unfair like that. But if they’d given up entirely, that butterfly effect mostly driven by good will would not have placed King to meet the Collector. And what then?

            Like. What a way to convey the hopelessness when society IS wrong in a classic Man VS Society conflict. At first you could feel comfort in just the select friends you need, but now they’re not enough when your personal happiness is not enough, when now YOU have to save society from themselves. Society is not just wrong in dismissing the weirdoes, we see how the stakes really escalate from this premise, from feeling lonely, to knowing people are about to make everything end and you can’t even truly be mad at people for it when you have an idea of what it was like. Sometimes the road to hell IS paved with good intentions. Not everyone is the villain and you can’t fight all of them even if they were, all you can do is intervene at the right moment and pick your fights carefully. The weirdoes sticking together moved them all to the right places they needed to be. It didn’t just save them on an emotional level but literally, for everyone.

            Us weirdoes have to stick together; It’s like being the Hero, having a Destiny. It sounds great at first, until you realize just how much isolating pressure and responsibility it really is. Maybe Dana and the crew couldn’t get away with as much horror as they wanted, but there’s something about this existential, political horror that is so much more close to home, IRL, and thus mortifying for it… Did I mention that S2B was written with the writers’ funneling their anxieties from the upcoming 2020 election at the time?

[aalinaaaaaa]

A Healing for the Birds — An Introduction

"How would you like to be the one to uncover it? To rain revenge for all their slander and worse they will do to your name?"

Helinda's Treaty started with the Allaitri Chalice, a prized relic capable of healing all spells and ailments, missing for thousands of years.

Alycja entered the temple to complete her Morja Durzjet, a ceremony for all young Seldaikan teens to confirm their maturity and competence in magic. But when a giant skeleton crashes it, she takes the Chalice into her own hands.

Meanwhile, Eshani sought it for own purposes; freedom. With each day passed another day spent in a court that those south of the border fear most, she knows the clock is ticking.

Pipped to the post by thieves of great ambition, Eshani finds herself caught between her desires and her obligations. The line between freedom and treason grows ever more perilous. Conspiracies come to the forefront of the zeitgeist, as Alycja must now contend with her religion's society trying to condemn and slander her at every turn. In her struggle for innocence, others stand up in search for the Chalice, leaving her to decide who to trust while the country spirals to tear itself apart...

—

Genre: high fantasy, a touch of romance

Perspective: third-person limited (dual protagonists)

Themes: The ethics of potent healing water, is power best kept or used, the weight of communal and familiar expectations, the price of peace, do the ends of love justify the means to seek it

Aesthetic: the perfection of divine metal, the euphoria of healing water, towering door carvings, portraits in the stone, branches for walls, hanging wisteria, flowing silks, birds in sunlit glass, crows on the rooftops, shards of stained glass, a giant, wandering skeleton, sharp words uttered in magic, notes scattered in a book, memories of what could’ve been, shrieks in the night, eyes in places that don’t belong, cloaks made of crow feathers, cherry blossoms for the dead, fairytales come to life (yet in aberration), the grounding of prayers, stars engraved in the ground, the comfort of a conduit, whispers in side corridors, wishes made in haste, tension closing in from afar, notes of cinnamon teas and paprika-blessed cuts of meat, the flapping of wings, feeling of air rushing against the face, the taste of freedom, the cracking of bones, the inherent history of magical tattoos.

Content: occasional swearing, religious themes/imagery, burns, violence, vivid descriptions of body transformation (in a violent/painful sense) [there is scope for this to be updated]

—

Dramatis Personae

— to be updated; they'll get their own post at some stage...

THE AMBASSADOR — Alycja Cartovierta: A bright student with a future in magic, now dealing with the fallout of her good intentions. She has a joyful, sassy personality, though her decisions on the fly don't always land well.

ANOINTED OF THE LAKE — Eshani Faison: One of the High Councillors of the Court of Morilast, she specialises in making deals and causing chaos for people. She has a delightful charm and intelligence that draws people in, but don't expect any personal secrets from her.

HIGH PRIEST — Jersk Rhesjan: The head meshai (priest) of Arobyre's branch of the Raikaliçian Society, is determined to seek justice for Alycja's theft of the Allaitri Chalice to the bitter end. A proud man with a strong sense of passion and morality, and he leaves no stone unturned in his affairs.

LADY OF THE MURDER — Claudia Emar: Another of the Court of Morilast's High Councillors, she's responsible for managing a sizeable murder of crows and leading the Court's espionage efforts, in addition to all the other strings in her hand. She exudes a cold, calm demeanour, sharp as a knife and brutal for those who get on the wrong side of her.

—

Excerpts

[Probably will feature in the draft]

The current state of things between Eshani and Cerigo

The angsty pining scene (parts of it, anyway)

Alycja's first meeting with 'the blonde lady'

A moment of waiting before the questioning

[Character studies, plot planning, deleted scenes, etc.]

Merik asking a few questions

Prelude to the interrogations

A moment of symbolism

A Broken Seal

Short Stories

On Death's Windowsill

A Sacrifice Made Twice

Cycle of Life

A Shot At Love

Sparks After Sunset

Star-Crossed

A Choir in the Woods

Tainted Orchestrations

These Vows Renewed

Lore Posts, Worldbuilding, etc:

The summary of Helinda

A note on Helindian death rituals

Summary of the magic system

How fire messages work

Some creatures that exist/are mentioned in the wider world

A small ask about potions!

The crows! (Well, the difference between two groups of them that is)

A short overview of the main setting

—

Spotify playlist 💙

—

Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @seastarblue @gioia-writes-and-others @rae-butter @corinneglass @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @outpost51 @oros-ash3s @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @jacqueswriteblrlibrary @rainbowsnowflake

[damned-punk]

A Little Visit (Captain Kidd x Reader)

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Content Warning: nsfw, oral sex (f! receiving), kissing, masturbation

Content Description: afab!reader decides to visit Kidd in his workshop during a boring day at sea and things get physical ♡

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It had been a rather calm day at sea, especially by the standards of the Victoria Punk, which led to the Captain tinkering away in his workshop. You couldn’t deny the feelings you had for him, but his position as your Captain complicated things. It never seemed to be the right time to approach him and there was certainly never a great time to talk things over. Building up courage and resolving to take advantage of today’s uneventful opportunities, you approached his door. You hadn’t worked out what you wanted to say or if you even wanted to get into everything at this very moment, but you knew you wanted to see him and that was reason enough to indulge in your thoughts.

You knocked a few times to let him know you were coming in but you expected no response. When he was locked in on a project, there was very little that could pry him away from his tools. This time was no different but you were caught off guard a bit when you saw him draped over an indecipherable hunk of metal parts, shirtless with toned muscles and garish scars glistening from a sheen of fresh sweat. His hair was loose over his forehead as his goggles sat in their intended position over his eyes. You had to stifle a giggle when you noticed he was wearing a glove on his remaining hand which was a fashionable choice against his largely unprotected torso.

“What in the hell could you possibly be doing that requires gloves but no shirt?”, you teased, hoping he was in a playful mood so he wouldn’t kick you out.

“Like what you see sweetheart?”, he teased back and while you were grateful he played into it, the sudden red flush of your cheeks ruined your chance at a poker face.

You weren’t sure of what to say, so you shook your head and closed the door behind you. He kept on with his tools for a moment, the pink dusting across his cheeks going entirely unnoticed as he turned in a way that shielded his face from view. You took a seat on the top of one of his workbenches and glanced around at the various creations scattered about the room. Just as you picked up an articulated wrench to play with, he slid his goggles back onto his head, removed the glove, and wiped his face with a rag as he approached you.

“Alright, what in the hell d’ya need this time?”, his words were rough but you knew it was all in good fun.

“Nothing in particular…”, after putting some thought into what else to say, you let the words fall from your lips despite the fact that there was no turning back once they were said, “I suppose I just wanted to come see you.”

The mood was too perfect and the environment afforded no distractions from an interaction that needed to happen. His height was exacerbated due to your position on the table and something about being even smaller in his presence was flustering you to the point that the air in the room grew awkward. Even with his inflated ego being the size of the ship itself and his confidence being a strong contender, he struggled when it came to you. Of course he felt the same but he wasn’t really good at vocalizing intimate feelings. He was a man of action, not so much of words.

He closed the space between the two of you and rested his hands on the table at your sides, he was giving you the opportunity to take it to the next step. If you could’ve been in his position, you’d likely laugh at how nervous he was. It felt like he was a damn teenage girl and couldn’t stop himself from getting jittery. Your face was inches from his own and despite the fact that he was the notoriously violent Eustass Captain Kidd, his soft spot was on full display just for you.

“Well, I’m right here…”, his voice was much deeper, more sincere than before and seemed to be laced with hints of desire.

You leaned up and just barely brushed the tip of your nose against his. He wasn’t sure of what to do, especially considering that the very minimal physical contact was already causing him to become warm below the waist. There was a fine line between playful flirting and genuine emotional connection. This game of push and pull had gone on long enough and he knew that if things didn’t work out he’d obviously retain his position as Captain, but his worries were substantiated when considering what would happen with you. Would you be able to fall in line under him as a member of his crew after something like that? He certainly couldn’t handle you leaving, the weight of never seeing you again was too daunting to even consider as a possibility. He’d been through that once, never again. Maybe he was over complicating this whole thing.

But it didn’t matter anymore, especially not when you lifted your hands to rest on his chest. Your eyes bore into his own and provided such a sense of security that he resolved to finally press his painted lips to yours. He’d wanted to do this for so long and the feeling was surprisingly comforting. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip and wasted no time in deepening the kiss as you parted your lips for him. Your hands had made their way to his dampened hair, gently tugging to signify you needed some air.

He pulled away and admired the smears he’d left behind, splotches of his favorite shade accentuating your puffy lips. As you averted your gaze from his with a flushed face, he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t want to rush you into going all the way, especially not in this very tender moment, but he couldn’t deny that he yearned for more physical contact. Kidd placed a few kisses to your cheeks and gradually made his way to your neck. He sucked and nipped in all the right places leaving you with a warm feeling all over.

“Do you trust me?”, he whispered into your ear as he massaged the plush of your thighs.

“Of course I do, Captain.”, you shakily answered back, admiring his pleased expression as he stood up to retrieve his fuzzy coat.

He positioned the coat behind you in a way that provided you with support as he coaxed you to lay back against his workbench. He removed the goggles from his head and made sure to lock the door before devoting all of his attention back to you.

“I wanna show you how I feel about you…”, he pulled a chair up to the workbench and sat himself down, placing his hand on your hip where he began playing with the waistband of your pants.

As he gently tugged off your bottoms with ease, embarrassment began to over shadow your presence in the moment. You knew he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t want to but it was something new that you hadn’t ever experienced with him. Kidd hadn’t even seen you without a shirt on and now he’d be seeing the most nerve wracking area a person could ever show their partner. He recognized that you were struggling with the situation and gave you a reassuring smile as he admired your mostly exposed body.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about sweetheart. I’m right here… if anything feels wrong or you wanna stop, just let me know.”, he started kissing up your legs and the anticipation of what was to come filled your mind.

He positioned each of your legs to rest over his shoulders and pressed light kisses to your sex. His teasing didn’t last long as he was becoming impatient with his own ministrations. His warm, wet tongue danced along your folds and mixed with your own slick to elicit a symphony of erotic sounds in the room. As he worked to build up your arousal, he began sucking your clit and moaned when your nails scratched at his scalp. A repetitive smacking noise began to sound from below you and when it dawned on you what was making the noise, you felt a tightness clamp in your belly. Kidd was pumping himself as he coated his senses in you. The intensity of this little visit was growing exponentially, your mind practically swimming with the realization that he was getting off on pleasuring you.

“Captain… K-Kidd…”, you moaned out to him which only riled him up further, his pace becoming audibly faster.

You could tell he was close to his own orgasm as he stabilized himself using his prosthetic on the edge on the table. You weren’t far behind, especially with his chin pressed flush against your opening, unrelentingly sucking on your most sensitive spot. When you felt him shiver under your legs, you unbuckled beneath him and came in his mouth. He peppered kisses all over your wet pussy as you rode out your high and made quick work slipping your bottoms on, pulling you into his lap to relax after such strenuous activity. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, him turning your head to face him when your breathing stabilized.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself…”, Kidd kissed you once on the lips and playfully attacked your face with small pecks.

“You’re such a nerd.”, you teased him while resting your head on his shoulder, “I hope you enjoyed yourself, Captain.”

Just as Kidd sucked in a breath to respond, the jiggling of the door handle and loud banging on the door made you jump. You frantically began rubbing the red smudges from your mouth causing Kidd to cackle, his own disheveled appearance would give you away irregardless of your actions.

“Dinner’s ready!”, Killer’s voice yelled from outside, the locked handle telling him everything he needed to know.

“Let’s eat…”, Kid spoke, causing you to huff lightly as the two of you stood and adjusted yourselves for dinner, “Y’know princess, you could sit on my lap in the dinning hall if you want.”

“Yeah… I hear ya.”, you teased, following him out the door whilst mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of comments awaiting you from crewmates who definitely noticed the two of you exiting his workshop together.

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[inkdrinkerworld]

dealer rem +cuddles with autistic!reader after she had a meltdown :((( ilysm !!!

There’s half a grilled cheese sandwich in your plate, a half drunk glass of water and the tv is on mute.

Remus isn’t sure what’s brought on the meltdown- it could’ve been your day at work, it could’ve been from last week when nothing seemed to be going right and your body’s just now catching up.

Either way, he opens his arms the moment he sees the tears stream down your face and you climb messily into his lap- limbs heavy and clunky as you move.

“Take your time to breathe, dove.” He whispers, stroking your back as you sniffle.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m a mess,” you blubber as you speak to him and Remus shushes you.

“You’re not a mess, you’ve just had a long couple days.” You shake your head, Remus tuts. “S’my girlfriend you’re talking about here, don’t be mean.”

You laugh wetly, and he smiles.

“What sparked this baby?” Remus speaks softly, well more so than usual. He’s learnt that hushed words, tender touches and a couple kisses help along the meltdowns as they start slowing.

“I think I just got overwhelmed and in my head a bit,” you yawn as you rub your face into his chest. “And I couldn’t stop it and today was just kinda shitty.” You murmur, eyes heavy as you lay into him.

“Do you want to talk about it some more? Or you wanna get ready for bed, hm?” His nose brushes along your hairline and temple, his hands squeeze at your hips and waist.

“Can we finish eating and then go to bed?” Remus is going to say yes anyway.

“Whatever you like dove, wanna watch Bluey?”

“Please.” He grabs your plate and contends himself to feeding you the remainder of your sandwich as he starts the show.

[hrizantemy]

Day 14 of ACOTAR Games: This or That

Since most of you are writers, I assume you’d enjoy the upcoming tasks. You may share how you envision this playing out, if you please.

Who deserves a villain arc?

Tamlin

Eris

Your contenders: @achaotichuman @litnerdwrites @positivelyruined @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken

On penalty: @hrizantemy @yaralulu

Ah, the villain arc debate—we love to see it. Now, between Tamlin and Eris, I’m definitely leaning toward Tamlin for the villain arc. Why? Because, honestly, Eris is already killing it in the villain department, and it’s high time Tamlin gets his due.

Let’s start with Eris. The guy’s already classified as a villain, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. He’s been scheming, manipulating, and playing the game for centuries. Whether it’s using his family’s position for personal gain or making strategic moves behind the scenes, Eris already has the bad guy credentials. Plus, I mean, he literally has a villainous vibe with his clever words, hidden motivations, and his skill in the dark art of power plays. He’s the antihero we secretly root for because deep down, we know he’s got layers—he’s not just out here being bad for the sake of it. And with all the shit he’s been through (looking at you, Beron), he’s more justified than a lot of people think.

Tamlin’s villain arc should’ve started right after Feyre destroyed the Spring Court and walked out. That was the perfect moment for him to snap and spiral into full-on villainy, and honestly, it would’ve been delicious to watch.

Imagine this: Feyre, having broken his heart and his entire Court, walks away and leaves Tamlin in the ruins of the life he built. Instead of crawling into his feelings and sulking in his guilt (which he totally did), he should’ve realized this was it. This was his turning point.

Feyre’s destruction of his Court was the ultimate betrayal for Tamlin. He did everything for her, made all these sacrifices, and in return, she destroyed everything in a fit. He should have taken that personally, and by “personally,” I mean he should’ve started plotting his revenge. His villain arc should’ve started with him huddling in the wreckage, staring at the broken pieces of his kingdom and realizing: No one will get away with this.

First step: He would have called in all the power plays he could. No more playing nice. He would’ve been at the height of his bitterness, frustration, and rage. But rather than seeking redemption, he should have gone full Machiavellian. Power grabs, alliances with the worst people, manipulation, and domination—the Spring Court becomes his personal battleground for revenge, and Feyre’s betrayal becomes the catalyst for his downward spiral.

Tamlin would have been obsessed with regaining control—but with an iron fist this time. That whole “gentle High Lord” persona would’ve been a distant memory. We could’ve seen him with Beron, cutting shady deals, solidifying alliances with people who despise Feyre’s side of things. He could have gone to the other courts, not as a High Lord who plays fair, but as a man who is willing to crush anyone in his way. His anger could’ve festered, growing into this sick obsession with “showing them all” just how powerful and unstoppable he could be. Revenge would’ve been the driving force in his villain arc.

Imagine Tamlin building an army of his own. No longer the soft, misunderstood guy who just wanted to protect his people—no, now he’s seeking vengeance. He would’ve gone after the Night Court, Cassian, Rhysand—anyone who had even a hint of involvement in Feyre’s rebellion. The way he’d target Rhysand, undermining him, trying to take over, make his Court the supreme power in all of Prythian.

And as the stakes get higher, Tamlin’s descent into darkness could have been so satisfying.

Let’s start with Feyre’s version of Tamlin. She paints him as the classic abuser—controlling, possessive, and emotionally manipulative. She spends so much time making him out to be the villain of her story, often turning the blame for everything onto him. Sure, he wasn’t perfect—his possessiveness was overbearing, and he didn’t understand Feyre’s need for autonomy. But it’s also clear that his actions were shaped by a twisted love and the trauma he’d suffered from his own family and the curse. There’s an angle where his mistakes could have been redeemed, or at least understood, if he was allowed the space to heal and grow. Instead, he’s painted as the villain, while everyone else gets a pass.

But let’s turn the tables. What if Tamlin leaned into that villain role? What if, instead of being heartbroken and conflicted after Feyre left, he embraced the image she painted of him and turned it into a weapon? What if, instead of wallowing in the destruction of the Spring Court and accepting the trauma Feyre had put him through, he went full-throttle mode and decided he would take everything he was denied—and then some?

Tamlin could’ve gone straight for the jugular. He could’ve turned his heartbreak into burning rage, seeing Feyre’s betrayal as a personal affront—not just from her, but from everyone. He spent years building the Spring Court, trying to protect his people, to be good… and how was he repaid? With Feyre smashing everything he had worked for and running off to Rhysand’s arms. Rhysand—who Tamlin saved, who he literally brought back to life—was the last straw. After all Tamlin did for Rhysand and the Night Court, to see that man swoop in and claim Feyre, while everyone ignored Tamlin’s sacrifices? That’s enough to make anyone snap.

Now imagine Tamlin at his lowest, completely untethered from any sense of morality. He goes from a heartbroken High Lord to a scorched-earth ruler, and I’m here for it. In the end, Tamlin gets everything he wants: power, control, and the satisfaction of knowing that no one ever thought he could be this dangerous.

[justs0nderings]

it’s been sitting in my brain but i just want to like contend with a very popular sentiment in the pjo/hoo fandom.

percy is an amazing main character; he’s likable and powerful and has enough darkness+depth that makes his story actually compelling. he’s very multidimensional — savior of olympus AND good friend AND scary, powerful demigod who has survived over again in situations most would not AND a killer… you get the point. I love percy. he was the character that really brought this world to us and i can never really love another character in this world as much as i love him.

that being said. percy is…. obviously plot-armored. he’s rick’s favorite character, the one he wrote for his son, the one who was meant to reflect his son. like…. ofc he’s depicted with such care and given these amazing powers. ofc he’s written as though he’s the strongest demigod.

but as much as percy is lovable and interesting and compelling… jason grace is anguishing. thalia grace is fascinating. the grace siblings, and in particular jason, are — imo — rich with intrigue and despair and have great potential in fannon to be the very thing that is more powerful than percy.

like we have to think it’s a little crazy that we think percy is more powerful than the children of the KING of gods.

and the truth is, as much as we fantasize about percy bloodbending and that scene in tartarus where he tests how much misery misery can take, we forget Jason and Thalia have the capacity for very similar things. jason can fly, he can manipulate the very air around him to lift his weight and project him forward, he wields lightning, he has been training with the sword for far more years than percy (and he’s a whole year younger). who’s to say the grace siblings can’t push the air out of someone’s lungs? who’s to say they can’t bring down a rain of lightning so severe it burns whole cities to the ground? who’s to say they can’t gather winds that level entire swaths of land? lest we forget — as much as water is copious, air is always there. there is nowhere the grace siblings can be where they cannot channel their power. there’s a reason no one touches zeus in greek mythology, and i truly believe if Rick (and the fandom) played a little less favorite with percy we could’ve had such an interesting sub-plot; jason grace, doomed to tragedy despite so much more raw power and potential vs percy, the boy who never really wanted to be hero, but the one who gets a happy ending.

(i also have very similar opinions about nico di angelo, really all i want is an honest conversation about abilities and powers in the pjo universe)

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

The Hybrid House | ateez x reader

Pairing: hybrid!ot8!ateez x rich!girl!reader

Genre: fluff, romance, slice of life

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1194 words

a/n: this chapter is a little bit shorter than I intended it to be...honestly, I've been trying to work through some burnout I've been experiencing. A while back I made a post indicating that updates will be every two weeks but sometimes, I might not have the chapter ready in time :( I'm still writing, and updates will be coming for this story and Aurorise but it might be slow updates for a little while. I've been trying to find motivation by working on other works when I have inspiration so if you'd like to check some other works you can check out my masterlist! I've currently released Chaotic Good, The Aurora Academy of the Arcane and a Seonghwa soft hours! Thank you for being patient! Can't wait to share more! Happy reading! <333

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Chapter 3

“I can’t believe I’m getting to see the great estate that has your family seething with jealousy!” Yeonjun expressed excitedly. 

You roll your eyes playfully at Yeonjun’s antics. While he continues to animatedly express his thoughts about the situation, you sit quietly beside him in the passenger seat fiddling with your fingers and lost in thought. There’s a nervous feeling that’s beginning to slowly creep in, and you’re twisting your palms in anxiousness to help calm yourself but failing miserably. 

Initially, you weren’t like this, but when it finally dawned on you that you would possibly be seeing your childhood friend again, time seemed to slow down and freeze. So many thoughts began to race into your mind and you found yourself slowly spiraling into panic. Truth be told, you weren’t prepared to face some of those thoughts if they happened to be true.

Your friends have probably settled with someone and moved on with their lives as they should, but for you, there was that slight twinge of disappointment and sadness lingering. 

Especially when it came to Yunho.

As Yeonjun exits Seoul and you’re currently on the wide and empty stretch that leads to your Great Aunt’s mansion, you roll down the window for a breath of fresh air. But as you glance outside, the familiar stretch brings back memories. Your mind flashes back to you and Axel in the car on the way to the estate and the few times you and the boys accompanied your Great Aunt to Seoul. 

Yeah, you were kind of a wreck right now in the emotions department.

“Are you okay?”

Yeonjun’s question snaps you out of your daze and you turn to him confused.

“Huh? What?”

I asked if you’re okay. You weren’t listening to me and it hurt my feelings.” he jokes.

You glare at him playfully before lightly smiling at his attempt to make you feel better.

“Just have a lot on my mind.” you hum.

“I know it must be tough,” he says, “I was just trying to lighten the mood before but I know it’s hard to go back after all these years. You didn’t get to see Great Aunt in so long and now, you’re seeing her but not the way you hoped it’d be.”

“It’s on me,” you answer, “After moving away from my family, I could’ve visited her but…I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to tell her about Axel and I didn’t know how to face my friends.”

“It’s not your fault your parents are dysfunctional when it comes to interacting with people. You’re not like them.”

“I didn’t know they said hurtful things to them and their parents behind my back that night. When I heard them gloating with their friends about it, I knew I could never face my friends again.”

“Your friends know you aren’t like them and your Great Aunt would’ve contended to that. Is it also because of your feelings?”

When you befriended Yeonjun at the banquet where you found out what your parents did, you ranted and broke down in front of him that night about everything that weighed on your chest from your brother Axel to your lingering feelings for the boys notably Yunho.

Yes you were young and you knew that, but you had never met genuine people like them before. So call it puppy love or infatuation but they were special to you in a special way. 

“I don’t know.” you sighed.

Before the conversation could continue, you recognized the mansion up ahead. The huge gates slowly opened as you approached and as you entered the property, the full view of what you used to consider your second home was now right in front of you. It wasn’t the same the last time you were here. It was now painted in a white and gold combination with more large rose bushes of red and pink adorning the front and numerous new balconies overlooking the hills. There was also now an ostentatious golden-plated and neon-lit fountain in the middle with vines wrapped around the base and surrounded by freshly planted hydrangeas. 

You were absolutely mesmerized.

As you step out of the car, you notice a ball of black fur has straightened himself upright as he notices your presence. The adorable black cat greets you by watching intently as you walk up the stairs. As he sees the smile gracing your face, he hops down from his position and meets you halfway down the large stairway. You bend down to his level to pet him and the cat basks gleefully in your embrace and snuggles up close to you in your lap.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it Youngie?”

The cat purrs lovingly at the mention of his name. Sadly, his moment is cut short by the shrill scream of Yeonjun.

“OMG you have a cat here too!?”

You turn to acknowledge Yeonjun’s question but little did you know, the cat is not amused. After being frightened and interrupted by Yeonjun, the cat judges your friend intensely. And when you get up from your spot much to the cat’s disappointment to talk to Yeonjun who swings an arm around you and begins chatting away with you, the cat decides there and then that he doesn’t like him. 

“You can do this. Remember I’m here so you’re not alone.”

He nudges you towards the large front door and gives you a thumbs up. But before you can knock, the door opens and a tall man stands front and center, his long hair beautifully tousled and his glasses a little slanted on the bridge of his nose. When he sees you, he breaks out in a gleeful smile and adjusts his glasses. You’re taken aback and your heart begins to do somersaults as your register who it is.

“Y/N?” he asks sweetly.

“Hi Seonghwa.” you answer.

In the meanwhile, Yeonjun stands in the middle of the stairway and gazes at the vast estate. He was also mesmerized at the grand and expansive property and the intricate details that were taken into consideration. However, he hadn’t noticed the black cat judging him at the side with his tail swishing menacingly as if the wheels were turning inside his head.

When Yeonjun finally takes note of him, he smiles and skips over to pet him but instead of giving in…the cat lets out a menacing meow and begins to chase him.

And while you’re inside trying to find the right words to say as you wait for Seonghwa to return from the kitchen, you hear Yeonjun’s screams and him shouting your name.

“Y/NNNN, HEEEEEELP!”

Seonghwa quickly runs in hearing the commotion and when the two of you rush outside, you’re met with the sight of Yeonjun running and the cat chasing him. 

“What-”

You turn to Seonghwa who watches on calmly as if this has happened before. But before you can ask, he calls out for someone inside the mansion you weren’t expecting to see.

“San! Go get him.”

And when San appears, in a white tank top that’s covered in a little dirt and black pants, you feel like you’re losing your mind.

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Taglist: @ateezennie23 @edenani @seonghwasslytherin @crazystarfishbear @n1k1mura @fr34k4c1dr41n @breadedloafs

a/n: hi there again!! if in case I've missed your request to be added to the taglist for the Hybrid House, I'm really sorry about that!! You can send a PM or ask so that way I'll be sure to see it! Thank you. <3