#if ever there was a post to blaze... well

[cawyden-gaming]

Rogue Trader - Heinrix - psyker power usage (base game + DLC1)

I went through the dialog and looked for descriptions when Heinrix uses actively or non-actively his powers - usually described with an icy chill (but not always).

You can also check for yourself in my Heinrix dialog collection (not yet upd. for DLC2).

What I find interesting:

Usually ice/coldness is described with his powers but in one case on Janus it is electricity

Psykers are said to have a witchsight but he is only ever described as feeling/sensing/hearing something and as there is no description of the usual cold sensation it sounds like he does not have to use them actively - there is the one occurrence at the bottomless pit where the chill is mentioned - so maybe then he uses witchsight and it is a power he has to use actively?

The ice/cold is not only described when he actively uses powers but also seems to unintentionally happen in emotional moments or when he is caught off guard

Of course - spoiler warning (but not DLC2) + this is long:

Attacking RT

During his Kiava Gamma quest if you destroy the cogitator (Act 2)

Heinrix clenches his fists — and you feel your heart begin to beat twice as fast, and the sudden rush of blood to your head causes your vision to blur. "The results of this mission could have made all those deaths mean something, but you just rendered them worthless!"

During Commorragh if you free him without convincing him it is you (Act 3)

With a speed that is surprising given his condition, Heinrix rips the black circlet from his head and blindly seizes you. A wave of searing pain pours into your body, as if the blood in your veins has been instantly brought to a boil.

Attacking/torturing others

DLC 1 interrogation

The Interrogator touches different spots on the prisoner's body, coldly commenting on the effects his {g|Encyclopedia:PsykerGlossary}sorcery{/g} is having on the writhing man. He makes his blood boil, then freeze, then boil again. He arrests his heart, makes it beat rapidly, then back again. At last, Heinrix steps away.

Kiava Gamma - boss fight / deamonengine

Heinrix raises a hand, and the temperature around him begins to plummet.

Heinrix raises a hand, and an unseen shroud of cold instantly falls upon him.

Commorragh - ambush in pit if you recruit Marazhai and have also Argenta and/or Ulfar with you (Act 3)

The air around Heinrix seems to crackle with cold. He is grimacing and spitting blood, clearly in pain from a bruise on his cheekbone. "Pretty quick for carrion…"

"The right decision." Heinrix's eyes blaze with otherworldly ice.

Commorragh during escape with Marazhai/Yrliet present

The Interrogator remains still for another second, then his eyes glaze over, his face twists, and the air around him turns icy cold. Marazhai twitches and coughs strangely, his pale face turning purple. He staggers and reaches for his blade…

During Marazhai's quest / first warp travel (Act 4) (-> weakens Marazhai's senses)

"Very well." Without further ado, Heinrix raises his hand. You feel the echo of otherworldly cold.

Heinrix mutters a curse and raises his hand.

The Interrogator gives you another look, then shakes his head and raises a hand.

The temperature drops considerably. Nothing happens for a few moments, but then Marazhai slowly sinks to his knees. His transfixed eyes close slightly, and an anguished crease appears on his brow, as if the xenos is waking from a nightmare.

Footfall - Heinrix tries to visit Calcazar + romanced (Act 4) (-> not posted but he does attack the guard)

Heinrix cocks his head slightly. You feel the air around him start to turn cold. "I am Calcazar's Interrogator. Let me in. Now."

Heinrix - companion quest (Act 4)

Whether you were joking or being deadly serious, your words fall on the deaf ears of the two acolytes of the Golden Throne: Emelina, weakened by biomancy, is staring fixedly at Heinrix, who seems to be engrossed in intense rumination.

Heinrix stares at the Sage, saying nothing, then looks down and {d|Encyclopedia:CompHeinrix_Humane}mutters something{/d} too quietly for you to hear.

Preparing to fight / attack

Recruiting Heinrix (Act 1) (-> he just tortured a cultist but also RT enters, it only gets warmer once Heinrix realises they are not a threat so I think he still was preparing to fight)

The tall, dark-haired man sizes you up with a quick glance; a supernatural chill is making the air around him crackle softly. The expensive fabric of his jacket is stitched with gold thread and marked by several reddish brown stains. A force sword and a {g|Encyclopedia:Vox}vox{/g} hang from his belt, and the emblem of the {g|Encyclopedia:Inquisition}Holy Inquisition{/g} glitters on his chest.

Rykad Philia (Act 1)

"Enough with this feigned nobility, Lord Winterscale." Heinrix draws his weapon as the air around him begins to freeze. "And if you could kindly step aside before you are caught in the crossfire."

Janus - if you want to spare the governor = heretic choice with retinue + Heinrix present (Act 2)

"A regrettable display of weakness, Rogue Trader." The air around Heinrix begins to crackle with electrical discharge. "In the name of the Inquisition, I sentence you, Vistenza Janus Vyatt ab Aram af Koronus, to death."

Marazhai's first warp travel (Act 4)

"This ends now." Heinrix draws his weapon, and the air around him grows colder. "We are putting the rabid beast down for good."

Heinrix is looking at you intently. You realise that the cold sensation still remains — the Interrogator is ready to strike, waiting for you to say the word.

Exploration - Mundus Nullius - Halo device (Act 4)

"Rogue Trader, stay back!" Heinrix grabs his weapon, and the air around you shimmers with otherworldly frost. "The bearers of the Halo Devices pose a grave threat even to the finest agents of the Inquisition. They are fast, strong, immune to poisons, and..." Heinrix stammers. "...immortal."

Healing

DLC 1 (elevator crash)

"{name}... allow me..." Heinrix, quite bruised and dirty himself, reaches out with his hand. A chill makes the pain subside, and you feel the bone pop back into place.

Rykad Philia - if you arrive late (Act 1)

Heinrix reaches a hand toward Evayne, and the temperature drops a few degrees. "He is in a bad way, but timely assistance from a chirurgeon will save his life. For now, I will... do what I can."

Attack on Dargonus - if you ask Heinrix to heal Achilleas (Act 2)

You feel a gust of cold that brings shivers to your skin. A moment passes, and Achilleas takes another breath — this one much deeper and steadier. The smaller cuts close almost completely, but the deeper wounds continue to bleed.

Commorragh - if you talk to Heinrix (romanced) in the pit (Act 3)

Heinrix raises his head. The cold haze that surrounds him begins to dissipate. "{name}... have you been looking for me? I tried to find somewhere out of the way where I could recover from the torture."

Supporting/fending off chaos/psyker influence

Rykad Minoris - triumph (Act 1) (-> Heinrix helps Idira or RT if psyker)

A grimace contorts Heinrix's face. The Interrogator lifts a hand to his temple, as though struck by a sudden migraine. "What..."

Heinrix removes his hands and shakes his head as if trying to drive away whatever is assailing him. His voice trembles when he says, "A simple solution to stabilise your condition. Keep it together. Do not give in to the force trying to take hold of you."

"Pull yourself together, Lady Tlass. And do not resist. It's a simple technique that will bring you relief."Heinrix leans over Idira and puts his hands on her temples.

Kiava Gamma - Heinrix quest (Act 2)

As soon as Heinrix takes another step toward the cogitator, it emits a deafening shriek like hundreds of metal needles driving into toughened glass, as though sensing the stranger. Wincing, Heinrix approaches the control panel and bends down toward the screens. Despite the heat clogging the room, you feel an ice-cold breeze — Heinrix is clearly using his {g|EncyclopediaPsyker}psyker{/g} abilities to try to fend off the pernicious effects of the {g|EncyclopediaChaos}Chaos{/g} artefact.

Kiava Gamma - end of main quest upon leaving, Heinrix helps to fend off mind attack (Act 2)

Heinrix is standing beside you, white as a sheet, eyes wide, grimacing. The air around him seems to roil — though the phenomenon passes almost immediately. As he begins to speak, his voice sounds hoarse and cracked "That... was not easy."

Exploration - Wasteland Wayfarer (Act 2/4)

Heinrix recoils, then grimaces and touches his temple as if pained by a headache. "This is bad. This is very, very bad... Ready your weapon, {name}."

Other usage

Bottomless pit - Heinrix investigating it (Act 2/4) (-> usage of his sorcery sense also results in the cold sensation of his powers?)

Heinrix peers into the darkness in the depths of the pit. You feel the touch of an otherworldly chill. The Interrogator arches an eyebrow. "Whatever this — hmm — phenomenon may be, there is no warp sorcery within it."

Kiava Gamma - Heinrix quest - interacting with the mutants (Act 2)

Heinrix hesitates for a moment, then closes his eyes and raises one hand. You are enveloped by an otherworldly chill. The mass of flesh in the cage suddenly rears up the mutant wrenches open its glued-together lips and begins wailing frantically. The shrieking is echoed by a chorus of howls and tortured moans coming from the neighbouring cages.

Commorragh - Heinrix freed (Act 3)

He gestures feebly at his eyes. "I can't see a thing. Give me a moment... to ascertain what they've done to me..." The air around him grows noticeably colder. "Blast it... I can't sense my body..."

Heinrix romance scene (Act 4)

Ice covers the floor, walls, and objects in the dimly lit room. The air in the study is cold — your breath forms clouds of vapour in the air. At the epicentre of the icy emanations is Heinrix, slumped in one of the chairs next to the regicide board.

Heinrix laughs under his breath. "No. I'm protecting you. The warp-ice... is a physical manifestation of my sorcery. I am trying to hold back the breach. And the more I try, the stronger the ice becomes. That's good. It should. I'll become a block of ice if it lets me keep you safe."

Sorcery sense

Rykad Minoris - triumph (Act 1)

"I can sense a slight pressure in the atmosphere, like a distant psy-echo... I presume it is a result of the massacre that happened on these streets.“

Exploration - Emperor Palm (Act 2/4)

"I am unable to perceive what has been and what will be, but I too, ah, 'hear' this otherworldly hush. A strange warp anomaly. Strange and disquieting."

Exploration - Latotian's passage (Act 2/4)

"The ruins are emitting faint psy energies... However, it does not pose a direct threat for now. But I advise that we do not linger here."

Idira's quest (Act 2)

"The breath of the Immaterium... I feel the same thing whenever your resident witch is around. We are close."

Janus - jungle (Act 2)

"These people are not thinking straight, {name}." Heinrix stares at the tall, robed figure without blinking. "I can sense an influence. A bewitching spell. Sorcery known only to the strongest of the Aeldari — their Farseers."

Footfall - priate funeral quest (Act 2)

"I sense neither sorcery nor {g|EncyclopediaWarp}warp{/g} influence... However... every other attendee has military-grade {g|EncyclopediaAugmentation}implants{/g}. Almost all of them are armed. See those two? They act like they're just strolling about, but they're really covering the exit... and so is that pair over there. We shouldn't let our guard down at this gathering — something is afoot."

Marazhai's quest (first warp travel) (Act 4)

"I cannot see anyone, {name}... but I can certainly sense a warp presence nearby. You're saying you can perceive it? Then the entity itself has decided to reveal its form to you. The real question is... why?"

Emotional reactions / unplanned / unconscious(?)

Romance scene after Kiava Gamma (Act 2)

"What?" Heinrix stares at you in alarm. You feel the room grow colder, but perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you.

Commorragh - escape with Yrliet present (Act 3) (-> I do think this is not an attack but him being emotional like in the other cases where no active power usage is described just the chill)

Heinrix's gaze turns on you — and you are suddenly trembling, enveloped in an icy fog. "Because it is a hastily concocted tale that would fool only a naive simpleton. If you wish to trust the word of an enemy of Humanity, that is your unfortunate choice to make. But until I have better proof of Achilleas Scalander's treason than this pathetic prattle, I will not change my mind. Not now, not ever."

Romance scene if Heinrix was not in Commorragh (Act 4)

Heinrix sweeps you off your feet, holding you tight, and presses his lips to yours. You feel his heart pounding — and then the strange chill that momentarily surrounds you both.

Footfall - heretic choice with Vladaym (Act 4)

"Your vanity has crossed the line that divides stupidity from blasphemy." Heinrix clenches his fists. For a moment, you feel as if the air is going cold... but the illusion is dispelled a mere second later.

Descriptions/Information regarding his power usage

Commorragh - talking to romanced Heinrix in pit (Act 3)

Compared to how he was in the Anatomical Opera, Heinrix looks almost like his usual self. But you cannot help noticing the sag in his shoulders and the twitch at the corner of his mouth — he is exhausted. His biomancy must have sapped more energy than he expected.

Marazhai's quest - first warp travel (Act 4)

Heinrix's eyes narrow. "Why are we wasting time and entertaining the risks of using psyker abilities in the warp? For what? So that you can keep your pet predator? Isn't it about time you rid your menagerie of this exotic menace?"

[but-the-library-of-alexandria]

after much debate upon the subject of my new years resolution (options ranging from a long list of ways I could be better to simply 'be worse'), I have of course chosen, belatedly, the dumbest one:

Leaf Quest 2025!

And I'd love for you to join me! Here's the template spreadsheet, please make your own copy to use:

What is leaf quest?

Leaf Quest is simple: I am going to make it my mission to find, identify, catalogue, and rate the leaves I encounter this year. I already have a decent working knowledge of local flora, but if you don't, all the better!

As a nature lover plagued with Chronic Illness, it makes me sad how little I get out into nature anymore - walking isn't great for me and I tend to save my Walking Budget for special occassions, and as I will rant about on another post very soon, I am a big advocate for dismantling the idea that The Outdoors is only for Exercise. This quest gives me a reason to go outside for short periods and have non-exercise-related Nature Time. It's also really good mindfulness and will be great for the brain.

FAQ:

Why should I do Leaf Quest?

Leaf Quest will help encourage you to:

Get some fresh air, even if just for five minutes

Practice basic mindfulness by noticing and really considering your surroundings

Ground you in material reality when The Discourse and The Screens are plaguing your mind

Train the Gatherer part of your brain

Go to new places for no reason but to explore (for free!)

Feel more connected to the seasons and your ecosystem

Learn about plants n stuff

Give you a whimsical sort of motivational goal for the year

I don't get out much, can I still do Leaf Quest?

Leaf Quest is designed to get you out, even if it's just a few steps from your front door: it's meant to be as accessible as possible. I encourage you to drive or take public transport to new places if you can't walk far. Even if you're housebound, try stopping to identify and catalogue leaves you see in photographs!

There isn't much flora where I live, can I still do Leaf Quest?

First of all, I think you'd be surprised what's hidden in the cracks if you look for it. Secondly, leaves don't have to be found in the wild - you can also find leaves in the supermarket, in pots in people's homes, etc. The aim is not to find The Most Leaves, it's simply to take the time to notice and appreciate them.

Is it difficult/do I need to know about plants?

No and no! there are some good plant ID websites and apps out there, but frankly, you don't have to ID each leaf, and certainly not correctly. If you just wanna find a leaf and rate it without knowing what plant it belongs to, you're still benefiting from Leaf Quest as intended. You can always delete (or add!) columns from your copy of the Quest Log Spreadsheet. And remember, no pressure to 'succeed' at this, it's just for fun! You can do as much or as little as you like.

Are we compiling results as a group?

No, each person's Leaf Quest is their own personal journey. However, you could use the #leaf quest 2025 if you want to talk about it or compare with other Questers.

Are you autistic?

Yes. I am also an archivist by trade, so you can trust the integrity of my cataloguing template.

Today I am beginning to catalogue the leaves in my parents' garden: it's small, but there's so much there I'm sure it'll take me some time, especially as seasons change.

Best of luck on your quests!

[alinathinkstoomuch]

THOROUGHLY DEALT WITH

18+ MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you're angry with aaron for missing an important event, so naturally, he fucks the anger out of you. warnings | an: UMMMM ok so! p in v sex, fingering & oral (f receiving) spanking, drooling, overstimulation, masturbation, light d/s elements, choking & mirrors (can u tell i have my favs) somnophilia mentioned, errthang consensual, age gap, just filth yalllll word count: 4.2k… i wrote this when i was ovulating,, my cycle unfortunately decides what content i post LOL

✧ masterlist

You began with his shirts. The infuriatingly pristine, colour-coded, pattern-matched shirts hanging in your closet. The one you once shared. After tonight, however, you’d have ample room for your winter coats.

It felt harsh, thinking that way. And perhaps, once the adrenaline had ebbed, you’d be curled up among those coats, using the sleeves as tissues. But for now, you let the mindset of pure rage, slight dramatics and fury take the lead.

You knew what you were stepping into, a relationship with a man who might as well have been the crown jewel of the FBI, given how seldom he was home. And you bore it with grace. You never demanded much, only ever asked for compromise when it mattered, when it truly mattered.

So one by one, the shirts sailed over the bannister, landing in a crumpled heap by the entryway. Cotton casualties of yet another one of his spectacularly poor decisions.

He’d missed it.

The one thing you’d asked him not to miss. Not a work dinner, not some meaningless social obligation, but your event. The one you’d planned for months, circled on the calendar, reminded him of over and over. The one he looked you dead in the eye and promised he’d be there for.

What did you get instead? A text.

I’m sorry. Something came up.

Something came up, indeed. The collapse of your relationship, for starters.

Okay, maybe that was the dramatics talking. Maybe you didn’t want it to end, but you wanted—no, needed—him to take you seriously. Because how dare he? How dare he treat your life like the flexible one? As if your moments were optional, but his moments, ones that revolved around blood, caution tape, and sirens were the ones that ever mattered.

And the worst part of it all was the fact that despite all your anger, you still missed him in a way that language couldn’t quite capture. He’d been out on a case for two weeks, and even before that, he was barely home, glued to that damn bureaucratic chair in his office like it deserved more of him than you did.

You’d spent the last eight hours convincing yourself you were done. Done making excuses for him. Done watching your life conform to his schedule, his job, him in general. But your body, the ultimate traitor, didn’t seem done with him at all. Not when your hand drifted between your legs in the shower, picturing the way he used to pin you there, palm flat against your sternum.

Not even now, when you were supposed to be standing your ground. You still found yourself wishing he’d walk through that door and press you against it, like he needed it just as badly as you did.

Maybe that’s all this was. Maybe all you needed was a good fucking.

And you knew that was exactly what you would’ve gotten, had he shown up like he promised. He would’ve started in the car, hand gripping your thigh, maybe even slipping under your dress, getting you all worked up before you’d even made it home.

Then he would’ve railed into you, bent you over the piano in the foyer, lights blazing because of course he’d want the neighbours to see exactly how he rewarded your hard work. But no. You went home alone. Worked up, pissed off, with every intent of emptying your wine stash. Which you did.

And now, you stood at the top of the stairs, breath uneven as your pulse pounded in your throat. And that’s when you heard it.

His car in the driveway.

Shoes. Yes. Shoes seemed poetic. Fitting. The perfect thing to hurl at him with all the grace of a woman scorned and denied an earth-shattering orgasm. Actually, orgasms—plural. Because he wouldn’t have stopped at just one. He would’ve teased the first out of you, held you at the edge until you begged, then made up for it with two more. Rewards for being so damn patient.

You turned on your heel and marched back into the closet, snatching the nearest pair of his smug little leather loafers. Polished, arrogant things, much like the man who owned them.

By the time he stepped through the front door, you were already back at your vantage point, arm cocked, waiting until he turned to launch the first shoe.

It missed his head by a fraction and slammed into the doorframe with a satisfying crack.

He froze, jacket slung over one arm, briefcase in hand, tie loosened and all.

“Hi, honey,” you called out, your voice sweet enough to rot teeth. Then came the second loafer which landed just short of his feet. “Figured I’d give you a hand with the packing,” you added, gesturing to the shirts across the entryway. “Consider it a head start. I assumed your schedule wouldn’t allow for sentimentality.”

He set his briefcase down first, then his jacket, but you didn’t stay to watch the performance. You were already halfway down the hall, disappearing into the closet like a woman possessed, and thoroughly, furiously sexually frustrated.

You grabbed as many of his jackets as your arms could carry, yanking them from the rack with such force—hangers still hooked—you were genuinely surprised the bar hadn’t come crashing down with them.

You heard him then, just shy of the dressing room, steps clear as day. You paused in the hallway and dropped the pile right where it met the doorway, letting the expensive fabric fall into a heap like a makeshift barricade.

Then, back into the closet you went. You reached for what was left, another jacket, two more blazers, and his beloved cashmere sweaters. You snatched them from their hangers like they were the ones that were responsible. And with your arms full again you turned, only to find him standing there. So close that you nearly walked right into him.

“Unless you’re here to carry these to the curb, I suggest you get the hell out of my way, Aaron.”

His eyes dropped briefly to the pile in your arms, then back to your face. “I’m not leaving.”

“Like hell you’re not—”

“Just put my things down and we can talk about this,” he said, with that infuriatingly calm voice that made you want to scream, in two very different ways. “I know I made a mistake.”

You scoffed and stepped closer, close enough to breathe him in. Not the crisp, clean scent you were used to in the mornings when he’d leave for work showered, shaven and put together.  No, this was him at the end of the day. The faint remnants of cologne clinging to his skin, mixed with something more worn-in, and when he exhaled, you caught the faintest trace of bourbon on his breath. Rossi’s doing, no doubt.

Probably his way of trying to calm him down.

You’d heard Dave refer to you as a ‘fiery one’ more than once, always with a little too much amusement in his voice. He’d even joked, right in front of you, that Aaron wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you. Said he’d fold if you ever gave him real attitude. Clearly, Rossi had sensed what kind of storm Aaron was walking into tonight and had handed him a glass like some kind of offering from the gods.

“So not only are you incapable of being unselfish for one night that doesn’t revolve around you, you also seem to have a stunningly poor ability to follow basic instructions,” you snapped, voice rising in a way that was rare. “Are you absolutely certain you went to FBI school, or did you half-ass that the way you half-ass everything else you claim to care about?”

“Are you done?”

“Not even fucking close. But go ahead, interrupt again. You’re great at that, right?” You shoved the pile of clothes into his chest, hard enough to make him take a step back. “Talking over people, brushing them off, missing everything that actually matters until it’s already too late.”

He stood there for a second, holding the clothes before letting them drop to the floor without a word. You let out a bitter laugh at the sight and moved to shoulder past him, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” you hissed, turning back to face him. “Don’t walk away from the man who didn’t show up? Don’t stop screaming because it’s the only thing that gets through that thick, federal skull of yours?”

“Don’t do this. Not when you want me more than you want me to leave.”

“What? Are you—are you actually insane? Delusional? Is this the sleep deprivation talking? Because if so, you can take that smug little fantasy and get the hell out of my house.”

He let go of your wrist, but only to step behind you. His hands moved to your hips, turning your body to position you in front of the island in the centre of the dressing room.

“You want me gone?” he asked.

You cocked your head slightly to the right, catching his reflection in the mirror ahead as he began to undo his tie.

“Say it,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours in the glass. “Say it while I’m inside you.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Not because you lacked words, lord knows you had plenty. And he hadn’t even scraped the surface of the venom still burning at the back of your throat. But your body—traitorous, wretched thing—had already betrayed you.

You were supposed to be holding your ground. Not standing there, spine taut, with him behind you, visibly restraining yourself from folding over the island and handing him all your anger, gift-wrapped in a neat little bow that read please, fuck me senseless.

His fingers brushed your waist, and your lungs locked up. Your throat was so dry your heart had taken to skipping two beats at a time, just to remind you to swallow.

“I missed one night,” he continued, his fingertips now trailing up the length of your forearms. “But I haven’t missed this. Not once.”

You let out a flimsy exhale, turning your head to meet his eyes in the mirror once more. “You think this makes it better?” You knew it did. Maybe this wasn’t the kind of answer that made sense in a normal relationship, but nothing about you and Aaron had ever been normal.

“No,” he answered like the gentleman he was pretending to be, knowing exactly what was coming. “But I think you want it anyway.” And then his hands dropped from your arms completely. “So…what’s it going to be?”

Your hands moved before your mind did, bracing yourself against the island, knuckles whitening as your spine arched over the marble.

He hummed in approval, hands moving to your neck, brushing your hair aside. “That’s what I thought.” You felt him press into you, the weight of him flattening you against the surface as his fingers found the zipper of your jeans.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you lied, needing to put up some kind of fight.

He stilled for half a second, then let out a quiet laugh. “No?” he mocked, dragging the denim down your thighs until it was bunched at your knees. “Then why are you shaking?”

“Because I can’t fucking stand you,” you spat, forehead pressing to the marble, breath fogging against it as you tried—really tried—to remember why you decided his wardrobe would look better scattered across the entryway.

You heard him click his tongue behind you.

“Honey,” he drawled, his voice so pleased and full in all the ways that you were seconds away from being.“You’re so wet your underwear’s turned three shades darker.” And just to prove your point, his thumb dragged slowly over the soaked fabric making your body jolt, forehead nearly smacking the marble with the force of the reaction.

“Step out of the jeans for me,” he murmured, tapping your right thigh first, then your left.

You kicked the material off one leg at a time, your balance swaying as you did, hands tightening around the edge of the island for strength because it was the only thing keeping you upright.

His hand slid up the backs of your legs again, brushing that spot where your ass met your thighs. Then, without a word, his fingers slipped underneath the gauzy material of your panties.

You sucked in a breath as his middle finger dragged through your folds.

“Do you remember what had you so pissed off in the first place?” he questioned, like he genuinely expected you to form a coherent sentence right now.

“Yes,” you groaned into the counter, hips bucking shamelessly against his hand.

“So greedy,” he tutted, pulling his finger back just enough to watch your hips chase it. “Want me out of the house. Throwing my things out like some scene from a bad divorce. But one finger and you’re already a whiny little mess?”

A strangled noise tore from your throat, something between a curse and a moan, as your hands gripped the counter tighter.

“How many times did you touch yourself while I was gone, hm?”

“I—fuck, I don’t—”

“You don’t know?” He pushed a thick finger inside you, making you hiss at the stretch. “That’s not a real answer. Try again.”

You bit down on your lower lip hard enough to sting, eyes fluttering shut as your body betrayed you all over again.

“I asked you a question.”

“Three,” you gasped. “Maybe four.”

He let out a low, satisfied noise. “Maybe? You lost count?”

“D-Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t need to,” he laughed, adding a second finger. “You’re doing it for me.”

Your right hand curled into a fist, accidentally knocking a bag off the side in the process. “I hate you,” you mewled, the words barely making it past your throat.

“Liar,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your spine as his fingers worked deeper, curling just right. “You don’t hate me. You hate that I know exactly how to make you come before I’ve even unzipped my pants.”

Your mouth was parted against the marble, and when a moan caught in your throat, you managed to drag it back down just barely. Coaxing it into a shaky breath instead, trying to cling to the last scraps of pride you had left. Because he was right. Infuriatingly right.

“Well?” you hissed, breath catching. “Are you going to unzip your pants, or are we still pretending your fingers are doing anything I didn’t handle on my own while you were gone?”

Your heard an unbothered chuckle from him first and then felt the sharp sting of his palm landing against your ass, second. The impact was muffled by the fabric of your underwear, but the message landed all the same.

“That’s sweet, dear. But I don’t remember hearing you make these kinds of noises the last time you decided to take care of yourself…right next to me.”

You jaw clenched.

It had only happened once. You thought he was asleep—clearly, he wasn’t. He’d gotten in late from work, and you hadn’t wanted to bother him, so you took matters into your own hands… literally.

In hindsight, it explained the sudden burst of sex drive the next morning. You’d woken up to his mouth between your legs like he was trying to make a point that he could always make you come harder.

His free hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head to the side as he angled your face toward the mirror. “This isn’t how you sounded then, is it?” he taunted, fingers slipping out of you just to circle your swollen clit instead.

You gasped, body jerking at the sudden change in pressure.

“And just for that—” his hand stilled, the contact vanishing altogether, “—you can wait.”

You took the chance to catch your breath, heart pounding as you clenched around nothing, blinking back the tears gathering in your waterline like they’d scheduled a meeting.  

Glancing at the mirror you saw his hands work his belt free and you were tempted. So incredibly tempted to prove him wrong, to reach down between your legs and finish what he so cruelly started. Just a few strokes, that’s all it would take. But before you could even move—

“Don’t.”

You stilled. Every muscle locked.

“Put one hand between your legs,” he continued, the sound of his belt sliding from the last loop sharp in your ears, “and I’ll bind both behind your back. You won’t come tonight. Or tomorrow.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, barely managing to pull air in. The fabric of your top clung to your skin, sticky with sweat and a rage that seemed to be dissipating by the second. All that remained in its place was a desperate, aching hunger for him.

You pressed your thighs together without thinking, chasing some kind of friction, some kind of relief, but Aaron’s hands were already on your hips. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of your underwear, tugging them down your legs.

You knew it was his favourite part, especially when he had you bent over nearly every surface in the house. He loved watching the strings of your wetness peel away with the fabric, loved when it dripped down your thigh.

Once you were free of the only barrier between the two of you, you braced yourself flat against the counter, arching your back just enough to let him swipe his thumb through your pussy, allowing him relish in your wetness like a ritual he never dared to skip.

“Still want me to go?” he asked, though his voice carried a gentler note.

You turned your head, eyes back on the mirror. “Just fuck me,” you whispered—no, begged. “Please.”

He leaned in, bending over you to press a kiss to the inside of your forearm. Then another, trailing lazily up the length of your arm to your shoulder. Behind you, you felt his hand move between your bodies, hearing the rustle of fabric as he pushed his boxers down.

He aligned himself with you, dragging the thick length of his cock between your thighs, letting you feel everything. Every vein, every throbbing inch, the obscene heat of him paired with the wet slip of precum he spread over you.

You keened out a moan, barely managing to keep yourself upright even with the counter beneath you, legs beginning to shake with the effort it took to stay still.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he murmured, voice rasping just below your ear. “I wanted to be there. More than anything.”

“I know,” you breathed just as he guided your hips, braced his feet, and buried himself inside you in one devastating thrust. The stretch sent you spiralling, tears spilling freely down your cheeks as your forehead found comfort in the marble once more.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled out just enough to make you clench around the absence, and then slammed back in harder.

One hand slipped under your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your nipple while the other found its way back to your slick clit. All that came from your mouth were broken, pathetic sounds. Half-moans, half-sobs, every syllable caught between nonsense and pleading.

“A-Aaron, oh my f—god—oh—” Your voice wavered as he hit that spot again, and again, and again, until you were shaking with every thrust.

Drool slipped past your lips, a thick string trailing down to the countertop, followed by more, clinging to your chin, catching in the strands of your hair as you trembled under the weight of his body.

You felt Aaron release your nipple before his hand moved to your neck, his palm firm against your throat, holding you in place just as another string of spit slipped past your lips, landing on his hand.

“Look at you,” he grunted, tightening his hold as his hips lurched forward again. “Dripping from both ends.”

“Please don’t stop—I’m—I’m—”

“You’re close,” he chuntered, breath hot against your skin. “I can feel it, baby. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight, I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Your whole body locked, spine arching violently off the counter, eyes rolling back as the coil deep in your belly finally snapped. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, nothing coming out but air, tears, and barely intelligible sounds that might’ve been his name.

But Aaron didn’t stop.

Not even when your legs gave out beneath you, not when you slumped forward against the marble, sobbing through the aftershocks that tore right through you. He held you up, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other sliding up your back, fucking you through it, slow and deep now, like he needed to feel every last twitch and tremble your body offered him.

You could feel his rhythm start to falter, each thrust getting sloppier, his hips stuttering against you. Then, with a muffled moan into your shoulder, he pushed into you one final time and stilled, cock pulsing as he came. His grip eased, but his whole body shuddered against yours like he’d been hanging on just long enough to make sure you came first.

He made sure you were completely filled before he pulled out slowly, causing you to whimper at the emptiness. You barely managed to brush the damp hair from your face, to wipe away at the trail of drool on your chin, before his arms were around you again, this time gently guiding you down to the floor of the dressing room.

“Aaron,” you panted, landing on a pile of clothes you’d thrown there earlier. Soft cotton, rumpled cashmere, the ghost of his cologne clinging to it all. “What…what are you doing?”

“Shh, honey.” He knelt between your legs, his knees cracking on the way down.

“Sure this is good for your old man frame?”

He spread your legs open, fingers moving to push his come back inside you. “If I throw my back out eating your pussy, I’ll die a happy man.”

Your breath caught, hips jerking instinctively at the contact. “Jesus—Aaron—”

He lowered his head, mouth hot and wet as it latched onto your cunt, tongue dragging through the mess he’d just pushed back into you like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

Your hands shot to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, undecided if you were pulling him closer or trying to push him away. “I don’t think I can go again, baby,” you gasped, your thighs twitching from the overstimulation.

You heard a sloppy, muffled, “You can,” just as he sucked your clit into his mouth, hard enough to make your vision white out for a second.

“Motherfuc—” Your legs locked around his head with such force that it had to be uncomfortable for him, maybe even a little painful. But when you opened your eyes and looked down, he didn’t look bothered in the slightest.

You caught the way his hips were grinding slowly into the rug beneath him, telling you this might not even be for your pleasure anymore but for his.

“I really, really don’t think I can come again,” you cried out, hips lifting into his mouth. “Please, Aar—”

Your voice broke off as he groaned against your pussy, loud and filthy. The vibration of it paired with the way he lapped at you, coaxed that familiar feeling, winding tight in your abdomen.

You shook your head, back arching, mouth open but no sound escaping as he sucked your clit into his mouth and circled it with his tongue over, and over and over again.

“Aaron, I—fuck—I’m gonna—”

The words dissolved into a sob as the pressure inside you reached its peak, crashing over you with a dizzying force. You came again, harder this time, legs spasming, hands clawing at the rug and his hair, tears slipping down your temples as your body convulsed under him.

You felt his mouth finally ease up, the warmth of him pulling away only for a moment until he was crawling up your body, bracing himself on his elbows as he hovered over you.

He scanned your face, watching the way your chest heaved, the way your eyes were still screwed shut as you tried to come down from the high he’d dragged out of you. He didn’t say anything, just let you come back to him on your own terms because he was generous like that.

Your fingers slowly loosened their grip on the rug, the tension bleeding from your limbs. Finally, you blinked up at him, dazed and thoroughly fucked-out.

“Think I went to heaven.”

He huffed a laugh, forehead dropping to yours. “Yeah?” he murmured. “Were they impressed?”

You let out a weak laugh, your hands dragging up from the rug to rest on his shoulders. “I’m still mad at you. Just… now I can do it with a clear head rather than a—”

“Horny one?” he supplied, earning a nod from you.

“Mhm. Was this your idea of an apology?”

“I mean…” He looked down at you, then at the mess around the closet. “It stopped you from throwing any more of my clothes, didn’t it?”

You snorted. “Temporarily.”

“I’ll take it.” He leaned down to press a lazy, unhurried kiss to your cheek. “Now, come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Then you can go back to yelling at me properly.”

[chaostudee]

please please please, charles leclerc

summary : "please please please don't prove them right" charles leclerc has been labelled as a noterious playboy so when popstar starts y/n y/ln starts dating him she puts him in his place. warnings : language, suggestive content, hate comments. a/n : i acc have so much unfinished works in my drafts rnnn

y/nusername n1 in sydney.

liked by taylorswift, gracieabrams, tyla, and 4,628,925 others.

user72 ugh i love her so bad

username13 taylor liking is crazyy like she has been y/n's idol for years

user99 so so proud about how far she has come stopp i could cry

username222 sold out show in melbourne WHAT

fangirl truly the best night of my life (not an exaggeration i fear)

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername 48 hours in australia next to miami !!

》 TAYLOR MF SWIFT Y/N WHAT

》 cutest dump ever stfu

》 screamingggg

》 stopp she looks so happy let me sob 😭����

》 confirmed she loves us aussies 🇦🇺

》 the dress was *chef kisses*

》 storytime rnnnn

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

charlesleclerc miami prep 💪

liked by landonorris, carlossainz, scuderiaferrari, and 1,992,451 others.

user23 oh damn.

username788 holy shit i just woke up

f1fan oml

user00 i'm so jealous of any girl he has ever been with

user23 my dreams are just dreams 😫

f1lover podium plssss

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername guess where i am hehe

》 miami gp !!

》 is that charles's car i see 👀

》 "everybody is a ferrari fan"

》 y/n and f1 i'm here for it

》 oh great another influencer being invited to an f1 race

》 oh yessss

》 f1 omggg queen i love youuuu

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername a little pit stop before my show tonight ;)

liked by charlesleclerc, taylorswift, sadiesink and 2,728,667 others.

sadiesink ugh i had the best time

f1fan i'm not okay y/n and f1 MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDING

user13 im shooketh

username22 omg sadie and y/n together again i love them smmm

f1lover OMG GUYS WHAT IF SHE WAS THERE FOR CHARLES

user72 this is too insane....but he did like her post so maybeee user23 omgg and on the podium he did wink at someone maybe it was her?!?! f1girl okay not to alarm anyone but i did see him walk into the paddock with y/n 🤭 user23 OMFG ACC

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

charlesleclerc miami the city that keeps the roof blazing

liked by y/nusername, carlossainz, taylorswift and 4,729,901 others.

user23 i love charlos so bad pls never seperate them

f1fan oh girl....

user52 yesss charles back on the podium again

f1girl yesss the caption miami by will smith on toppp

f1lover are u dating y/n???

user626 yesss give the people what they want

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername miami you were amazing 💋

liked by taylorswift, charlesleclerc, chappellroan and 3,791,551 others.

user72 mommy

username90 we need the makeup routine rnn

fangirl the pose tonight was crazyyy

user52 omggg i was with my mum fangirl stoppp i would die

user00 her tour fits always eat so bad

f1fan in a perfect universe this would be my life

user22 okayyy what if charles was there?!?

f1lover y/n plsss come to monaco

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

hotones video with y/n out now !!

liked by y/nusername, tyla, charlesleclerc and 426,829 others.

y/nusername I TOLD YOU TO CUT THAT PART OMG GOING TO GO KMS

user627 oop

username22 i mean she has a chance so she might as well shoot her shot

f1fan not charles in the likes this is so messy

user72 oh to have her confidence

username78 omggg she is such a legend for this

f1girl this interview was so good omggg

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

charlesleclerc the best weekend of my life

liked by carlossainz, y/nusername, landonorris and 6,916,411 others.

y/nusername 💗

user62 girl f1fan wait was she there?? user62 nope

carlossainz finally

user562 i actually shed like real tears

f1girl so so proud

user90 im a new fan but this was emotional for me

username82 i hope he knows that we are all so happy for him

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

messages between taylor and y/n

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/nusername please please please out now hope you enjoy 🤭🫣

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, taylorswift and 7,291,081 others.

user72 NOW THIS IS A HARD LAUNCH

username90 i died dead

f1fan fuck idek who i want to be more

taylorswift omggg i'm so shocked i defo didn't know about this for months

y/nusername 😭😭 plsss ily

user62 THE MV WAS SO GODDAMN HOT THE WAY HE WAS LOOKING AT HER OMLLL

f1girl this is just so perfect

user90 i fear im in a state of shock rn

user52 im not even phased cause i saw it coming

landonorris can i plss be in a mv next plssss

user62 helpppp

username11 y/n my queen

taglist⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn @sweetestgirlintown111 @mxryxmfooty @hadidsworld @llando4norris @heavy-vettel @love2readd @depressedriches @nichmeddar @seonghwaexile

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

“Show, Don’t Tell”…But This Time Someone Explains It

If you’ve ever been on the hunt for writing advice, you've definitely seen the phrase “Show, Don’t Tell.”

Writeblr coughs up these three words on the daily; it’s often considered the “Golden Rule” of writing. However, many posts don't provide an in-depth explanation about what this "Golden Rule" means (This is most likely to save time, and under the assumption that viewers are already informed).

More dangerously, some posts fail to explain that “Show, Don’t Tell” occasionally doesn’t apply in certain contexts, toeing a dangerous line by issuing a blanket statement to every writing situation. 

The thing to take away from this is: “Show, Don’t Tell” is an essential tool for more immersive writing, but don't feel like a bad writer if you can’t make it work in every scenario (or if you can’t get the hang of it!)

1. What Does "Show, Don't Tell" Even Mean?

“Show, Don’t Tell” is a writing technique in which the narrative or a character’s feelings are related through sensory details rather than exposition. Instead of telling the reader what is happening, the reader infers what is happening due to the clues they’ve been shown.

EXAMPLE 1:

Telling: The room was very cold. Showing: She shivered as she stepped into the room, her breath steaming in the air.

EXAMPLE 2:

Telling: He was furious. Showing: He grabbed the nearest book and hurled it against the wall, his teeth bared and his eyes blazing.

EXAMPLE 3 ("SHOW, DON'T TELL" DOESN'T HAVE TO MEAN "WRITE A LOT MORE")

Telling: The room hadn't been lived in for a very long time. Showing: She shoved the door open with a spray of dust.

Although the “showing” sentences don’t explicitly state how the characters felt, you as the reader use context clues to form an interpretation; it provides information in an indirect way, rather than a direct one.

Because of this, “Show, Don’t Tell” is an incredibly immersive way to write; readers formulate conclusions alongside the characters, as if they were experiencing the story for themselves instead of spectating. 

As you have probably guessed, “showing” can require a lot more words (as well as patience and effort). It’s a skill that has to be practiced and improved, so don’t feel discouraged if you have trouble getting it on the first try!

2. How Do I Use “Show, Don’t Tell” ?

There are no foolproof parameters about where you “show” and not “tell" or vice versa; it’s more of a writing habit that you develop rather than something that you selectively decide to employ.

In actuality, most stories are a blend of both showing and telling, and more experienced writers instinctively switch between one and another to cater to their narrative needs. You need to find a good balance of both in order to create a narrative that is both immersive and engaging.

i. Help When Your Writing Feels Bare-Bones/Soulless/Boring

Your writing is just not what you’ve pictured in your head, no matter how much you do it over. Conversations are stilted. The characters are flat. The sentences don’t flow as well as they do in the books you've read. What’s missing?

It’s possibly because you’ve been “telling” your audience everything and not “showing”! If a reader's mind is not exercised (i.e. they're being "spoon-fed" all of the details), your writing may feel boring or uninspired!

Instead of saying that a room was old and dingy, maybe describe the peeling wallpaper. The cobwebs in the corners. The smell of dust and old mothballs. Write down what you see in your mind's eye, and allow your audience to formulate their own interpretations from that. (Scroll for a more in-depth explanation on HOW to develop this skill!)

ii. Add More Depth and Emotion to Your Scenes

Because "Show, Don't Tell" is a more immersive way of writing, a reader is going to feel the narrative beats of your story a lot more deeply when this rule is utilized.

Describing how a character has fallen to their knees sobbing and tearing our their hair is going to strike a reader's heart more than saying: "They were devastated."

Describing blood trickling through a character's fingers and staining their clothes will seem more dire than saying: "They were gravely wounded."

iii. Understand that Sometimes Telling Can Fit Your Story Better

Telling can be a great way to show your characters' personalities, especially when it comes to first-person or narrator-driven stories. Below, I've listed a few examples; however, this list isn't exclusive or comprehensive!

Initial Impressions and Character Opinions

If a character describes someone's outfit as "gaudy" or a room as "absolutely disgusting," it can pack more of a punch about their initial impression, rather than describing the way that they react (and can save you some words!). In addition, it can provide some interesting juxtaposition (i.e. when a character describes a dog as "hideous" despite telling their friend it looks cute).

2. Tone and Reader Opinions

Piggybacking off of the first point, you can "tell, not show" when you want to be certain about how a reader is supposed to feel about something. "Showing" revolves around readers drawing their own conclusions, so if you want to make sure that every reader draws the same conclusion, "telling" can be more useful! For example, if you describe a character's outfit as being a turquoise jacket with zebra-patterned pants, some readers may be like "Ok yeah a 2010 Justice-core girlie is slaying!" But if you want the outfit to come across as badly arranged, using a "telling" word like "ridiculous" or "gaudy" can help set the stage.

3. Pacing

"Show, don't tell" can often take more words; after all, describing a character's reaction is more complicated than stating how they're feeling. If your story calls for readers to be focused more on the action than the details, such as a fight or chase scene, sometimes "telling" can serve you better than "showing." A lot of writers have dedicated themselves to the rule "tell action, show emotion," but don't feel like you have to restrict yourself to one or the other.

iv. ABOVE ALL ELSE: Getting Words on the Page is More Important!

If you’re stuck on a section of your story and just can’t find it in yourself to write poetic, flowing prose, getting words on the paper is more important than writing something that’s “good.” If you want to be able to come back and fix it later, put your writing in brackets that you can Ctrl + F later.

Keeping your momentum is the hardest part of writing. Don't sacrifice your inspiration in favor of following rules!

3. How Can I Get Better at “Show, Don’t Tell”?

i. Use the Five Senses, and Immerse Yourself!

Imagine you’re the protagonist, standing in the scene that you have just created. Think of the setting. What are things about the space that you’d notice, if you were the one in your character’s shoes?

Smell? Hear? See? Touch? Taste?

Sight and sound are the senses that writers most often use, but don’t discount the importance of smell and taste! Smell is the most evocative sense, triggering memories and emotions the moment someone walks into the room and has registered what is going on inside—don’t take it for granted. And even if your character isn’t eating, there are some things that can be “tasted” in the air.

EXAMPLE:

TELLING: She walked into the room and felt disgusted. It smelled, and it was dirty and slightly creepy. She wished she could leave. SHOWING: She shuffled into the room, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over a suspicious stain on the carpet. The blankets on the bed were moth-bitten and yellowed, and the flowery wallpaper had peeled in places to reveal a layer of blood-red paint beneath…like torn cuticles. The stench of cigarettes and mildew permeated the air. “How long are we staying here again?” she asked, flinching as the door squealed shut. 

The “showing” excerpt gives more of an idea about how the room looks, and how the protagonist perceives it. However, something briefer may be more suited for writers who are not looking to break the momentum in their story. (I.e. if the character was CHASED into this room and doesn’t have time to take in the details.)

ii. Study Movies and TV Shows: Think like a Storyteller, Not Just a Writer

Movies and TV shows quite literally HAVE TO "show, and not tell." This is because there is often no inner monologue or narrator telling the viewers what's happening. As a filmmaker, you need to use your limited time wisely, and make sure that the audience is engaged.

Think about how boring it would be if a movie consisted solely of a character monologuing about what they think and feel, rather than having the actor ACT what they feel.

(Tangent, but there’s also been controversy that this exposition/“telling” mindset in current screenwriting marks a downfall of media literacy. Examples include the new Percy Jackson and Avatar: The Last Airbender remakes that have been criticized for info-dumping dialogue instead of “showing.”)

If you find it easy to envision things in your head, imagine how your scene would look in a movie. What is the lighting like? What are the subtle expressions flitting across the actors' faces, letting you know just how they're feeling? Is there any droning background noise that sets the tone-- like traffic outside, rain, or an air conditioner?

How do the actors convey things that can't be experienced through a screen, like smell and taste?

Write exactly what you see in your mind's eye, instead of explaining it with a degree of separation to your readers.

iii. Listen to Music

I find that because music evokes emotion, it helps you write with more passion—feelings instead of facts! It’s also slightly distracting, so if you’re writing while caught up in the music, it might free you from the rigid boundaries you’ve put in place for yourself.

Here’s a link to my master list of instrumental writing playlists!

iv. Practice, Practice, Practice! And Take Inspiration from Others!

“Show Don’t Tell” is the core of an immersive scene, and requires tons of writing skills cultivated through repeated exposure. Like I said before, more experienced writers instinctively switch between showing and telling as they write— but it’s a muscle that needs to be constantly exercised!

If I haven’t written in a while and need to get back into the flow of things, I take a look at a writing prompt, and try cultivating a scene that is as immersive as possible! Working on your “Show, Don’t Tell” skills by practicing writing short, fun one-shots can be much less restrictive than a lengthier work.

In addition, get some inspiration and study from reading the works of others, whether it be a fanfiction or published novel!

If you need some extra help, feel free to check out my Master List of Writing Tips and Advice, which features links to all of my best posts, each of them categorized !

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[motorsportbarbie13]

Post It - Part 7 - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

|| - Part 1 || - Part 2 || - Part 3 || - Part 4 || - Part 5 || - Part 6 || Master List

warnings & notes: lil bit of smut at the end. swearing. As always, thanks to @lestapiastrisgirl for the external validation, even if she does forget about me sometimes. 😁 pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 4.6k words

The blistering Miami heat beat down on the paddock early Friday morning, the humidity hanging in the air thick and heavy. It clung to everything like a damp blanket, even this early. Outside the air-conditioned haven of McLaren’s hospitably, the sun was already blazing hot overhead and you were regretting your choice of spots for breakfast. 

You and Lando sit at a small shaded table just outside the doors of building, half eaten breakfast of fruit and whatever else your boyfriend had chosen sits scattered between you. The air buzzes with the low hum of generators and the distant roar of engines being prepped for the first and only practice session of the weekend. Lando sits across from you, a mix of nervous energy and focused calm radiating off of him as he scrolls through his phone, occasionally glancing up at you as if he’s checking to make sure you’re still there. The moment you two had been reunited yesterday, it had felt like a giant weight lifted right off his shoulders. He’d slept so well last night, better than he had in what felt like weeks, with you tucked up against him, limbs tangled together and his arms curled securely around your middle. 

He felt focused as he sat watching the replay of the weekend warmup show from his phone, prepped after a win in Saudi Arabia and confident from his maiden win here last year. You were just happy to have today off to a better start compared to yesterday, despite the fact that the heavy humidity was already making your skin prickle in protest. 

Just as a comfortable silence settles over the table, punctuated by the clink of cutlery and the distant shout of an engineer, Hannah breezes over, a whirlwind of energy. You hadn’t seen her for a few weeks either, as she had needed to go home to California for a bit but with the race being state-side this weekend, she was able to make it. 

“If it isn’t my two favorite love birds.” Hannah teases as she pulls out a chair before plopping down beside you. “I heard you guys caused quite the PR nightmare yesterday.” 

You scoff, looking pointedly at Lando. “Hey now, that wasn’t my fault!” 

Lando rolls his eyes, dismissing Hannah’s teasing with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine. I made it up to her last night, didn’t I baby?” 

The smug look on his face has Hannah choking on her water and you reaching over to swat at his arm while you shout, “Lando Norris!” 

Lando holds his hands up in a show of mock innocence, “What? You’re going to look at me and tell me that I’m wrong.” 

Brows raised, you have to admit can’t really argue with him. As soon as he had gotten you back to the hotel room late last night, your clothes had been on the floor and had remained there until Lando’s alarm had gone off early this morning. He had pulled you to the edge so many times over the course of the night, in both his bed and this morning in the shower as you were getting ready for the day that you were still deliciously sore as you sat next to him in the paddock. 

“Okay, that’s enough from you two.” Hannah says, nose wrinkled in distaste. “Come on,” She stands before turning to you, hands on her hips. “Can we go find Alexandra? Ferrari always has the best iced coffee, better than anything Red Bull has.” 

You laugh, leaning over to press a kiss to Lando’s mouth. “Yeah, I need some extra caffeine this morning, don’t I Lan?” 

“Enough!” Hannah groans. 

“You’re both traitors.” Lando mutters as he watches you take a few steps away. “McLaren’s coffee is just fine.” 

“Oh stop. You know that is total lie.” You say, hands on your hips. “Ferrari has the best food in the paddock.” 

Lando captures your waist in his arms, pulling you closer. If he was going to suffer the backlash from the comms team after his little slip up yesterday, he was certainly going to enjoy his new found freedom in being able to paw at you openly in public. “Fine, but don’t forget I need a good luck kiss before quali this afternoon.” He says, bottom lip poking out in a over exaggerated pout. 

Hannah rolls her eyes, “You can have her back for lunch, Lando. I told you we’d share custody of her, didn’t I?” 

“Fine, but make sure she’s back in time so I don’t have to send out the authorities to look for her. I don’t want to have to take you to court for modified visitation.” 

“Okay! That’s enough with the divorced parents analogy, thank you!” You grab Hannah’s arm before the two can bicker over you even more. “Let’s go find some decent coffee before you two start drawing up a custody agreement.” 

You and Hannah navigate the bustling paddock, weaving your way though the throngs of team personnel, media, and VIP guests. The air is thick with the smell of fuel and the hum of voices, loud and excited in anticipation of this weekend’s races. It doesn’t take long before you’re standing in front of Ferrari���s hospitality, a hive of activity surrounded by a sea of scarlet and yellow. After a few moments you spot Charles LeClerc’s girlfriend Alexandra sitting by herself at an outdoor table. 

“There she is.” Hannah says, nudging you with her elbow. “Lets go say hi.” 

You’d met Alexandra back in Japan and had instantly clicked with the brunette. You had a lot in common and had instantly bonded over your shared love of art and her dog Leo. You and Hannah approach, exchanging quick hugs and cheek kisses before quickly catching up on the latest gossip, most of which seemed to center around you lately. After catching up in the latest goings on and getting some of the coveted iced coffee you were craving, Hannah suggests a walk to stretch your legs before the first practice session. 

“Let’s see if we can find some shade.” Alex suggests, gesturing towards a less crowded area of the paddock. “I’m already melting, this humidity is so gross.” 

As the three of you stroll along, the noise of the garages fading into a dull roar, you find yourselves walking down a less frequented path towards the back corner of the paddock. The air is still thick with heat, but a slight breeze offers you a small reprieve and you start to feel your body adjust to the heat. 

Suddenly, Hannah stops in her tracks, mouth dropping open when she spots a familiar figure standing a few feet ahead of your group. You follow her line of sight and when you see who she’s starting at your stomach flips very unpleasantly. 

Allegra. 

“What the fuck is she doing here?” You hiss, heart hammering so hard against your ribcage, you’re surprised you don’t bruise something. 

“You don’t think Lando…” Alexandra lets the sentence hang in the air but you’re shaking your head before her thought is even completed. 

“No, he showed me the messages between him and her weeks ago. There was never anything going on.” 

“Well don’t look now but she’s coming over here.” Hannah warns, sliding her sunglasses up into her hair so she can fully glare at the blonde walking towards you with a smug grin on her face. 

You thought it would probably not be a good look if you punched her, but you considered it anyways. As she approached you felt a pang of insecurity rush through you just looking at her long blond hair, wondering how she kept it looking so perfect in the Miami humidity. She was thinner than you, perfectly tanned and was flashing you a blindingly white smile that reminded you of a shark circling it’s prey. 

“Well well,” Her voice is light and airy, the perfect innocent tone that would lull anyone into a false sense of security. “If it isn’t my replacement.” 

Beside you, Alex huffs and you can practically hear her roll her eyes. 

“Replacement?” You tilt your head to the side, studying her as if she’s a strange creature that’s crossed your path. You’ve dealt with mean girls before and have this act down pretty good, even if you have to fake it with the way your heart rate has jumped sky high since you saw her. “Honey, there was nothing to replace. You and Lando were never anything other than a desperate attempt to drum up some positive PR for the both of you, nothing more.” 

To your surprise, Allegra smirks like a cat with a mouse in its jaws. “Then why did he invite me to Saudi Arabia a few weeks ago?” 

You blink, caught off guard at her question. You’d heard through the grapevine that she had been spotted skulking around the circuit and in the city but nothing had surfaced proving that she had been at the race. Had Lando invited her? Your previous confidence in his sincerity waned for just a brief moment as you thought back to yesterday and how you felt like something had been off. Had you trusted Lando too quickly? 

And then Alex spoke up. 

“That’s a bunch of bullshit and you know it, Allie.” Allegra’s eyes flare in anger at the nickname you knew she reserved for Lando alone. “I was at the race all weekend and I didn’t see you at all. Not a single hint of that cheap perfume you’re wearing, and let me tell you, I can smell that shit from a mile away.” 

You blink in surprise at your friend. If there was one thing Alex was, it was quiet. Once you got her alone, she was downright chatty but out in the paddock with the public? She was quite reserved. 

“Just because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I wasn’t in his hotel room all weekend.” 

Now it was your turn to laugh, the doubt that had been clutching at your heart for the last few moments dissipating as quickly as it had come. “I was on FaceTime with him pretty much any time he was in his room, Allie.” 

“It’s Allegra.” She hisses. 

“What are you even doing here?” Hannah asks, taking a sip of her coffee before flicking her gaze away from the blonde as if she was bored out of her mind. “Did you not see Lando’s interview with Crofty yesterday? Their posts right after?” 

“I know a PR relationship when I see one.” She sniffs but you can tell you’ve unnerved her. Allegra hadn’t totally thought this through. Either that or she was just dumb enough to think that she could have the upper hand here still. 

“Of course you do!” You laugh, swirling the ice around in your coffee. “You spent the last year pretending to date someone who barely tolerated you.” 

As Allegra sputters, searching for a response, your phone begins to ring. “Hi baby.” You say, glaring directly at woman opposite you who has turned bright red in the last few moments. “Yeah, of course, we’ll be right there. We’re just finishing up with a fan. Of course I’ll say hi for you. See you soon!” 

You swear you see steam coming out of Allegra’s ears as you glance over at Hannah and Alex next to you. “Lando got out of his engineering meeting early and apparently feels the need for a pre-practice kiss.” You turn back to Allegra, smirk on your face. “Athletes and their superstitions, am I right?” 

Before Allegra has a chance to respond, you spin on your heel and walk away, leaving her standing in a deserted part of the paddock alone. 

When you’re out of earshot of her, Hannah speaks up, her voice wary. “Should we tell Lando she’s here? Maybe McLaren PR? I don’t think that’s going to be the last time we hear from her this weekend.” 

You shake your head, “Not right now. Lando doesn’t need any distractions. He was pretty anxious this morning about the sprint and I don’t want anything to take his focus away from that. I’ll tell him tonight.” 

The darkened hotel room was a stark contrast to the frantic energy of the Miami paddock that you had spent your day in. The air conditioning hummed softly, a cool, artificial breeze that did little to dissipate the residual heat that was clinging tightly to your skin. Outside, the city throbbed with the sounds of Miami on a Friday night. It felt as though everyone was out enjoying everything that the city had to offer, but in the hotel room that you shared with Lando? The suffocating silence that hung in the air was almost too much to handle. 

Sprint qualifying had been a complete disaster, a series of unfortunate events that included a deleted push lap in SQ3 and getting stuck in dirty air behind George on his second attempt. The difficulties had resulted in a disappointing P7 start for tomorrow, further advancing Lando’s distaste for sprint weekends. He’d carried that frustration back to the hotel, the tension radiating off of him in palpable waves as he laid on the bed in just his boxers. Even with you wrapped around him, his normal playful demeanor was replaced by a dark, brooding intensity. 

You weren’t feeling much better though, to be honest. Seeing Allegra earlier in the day had really spooked you. Lando hadn’t made any indication that he knew she was here this weekend and you still fully believed that he hadn’t invited her to the Saudi race but there was something so unsettling about her presence here. Like she had expected to be welcomed back into Lando’s orbit with open arms. Like you didn’t even exist to her. It felt disrespectful and unnerving to have her in town, even if you felt secure in your relationship with your boyfriend. 

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the soft rusty of the sheets as you tracked idle patterns on Lando’s skin with your fingertips. Your boyfriend’s love language was touch and even if he was silent and broody now, you knew that having you here, legs tangled with his, fingers running up and down his tanned skin, was good for his mood. The warmth radiating off of his body felt charged though, almost volatile and you knew Lando was busy battling his own demons, replaying the day’s events over and over in his head, trying to figure out where he went wrong and how he could blame himself even further. 

You also knew you had to tell him about what happened earlier. If he found out from anyone other than you, it would be a disaster. The unspoken tension in the room was becoming unbearable but you knew you needed to tell him, no matter how bad his reaction was. 

Finally, you decide to break the silence. 

“I need to tell you something and I don’t think you’re going to take it very well.” You murmur, shifting so you’re on your side, propped up by your elbow. 

Lando turns to you then, eyes dark and stormy. This was shit timing and you both knew it but you had to get it out in the open. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

The thought of another shitty thing happening today nearly sends Lando into a tailspin. The way you were talking had him thinking worst case scenario. With the way this weekend was going, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was you had to tell him. 

“Allegra is here.” You say, the words hanging in the air like a fragile confession, the weight of them settling between you two. 

Lando’s body stiffens ever so slightly but you notice it immediately, the sudden surge of tension rolling through his body telling you everything you need to know. He turns his head to meet your gaze and you’re struck by how dark and guarded his eyes are. Your normally goofy, playful boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Unable to resist, you lift your hand to card your fingers through his still shower-damp curls, a move you know calms him and soothes out the rough edges of his anxiety. 

“What? How do you know?” He asks, his voice so low you almost miss the question.

“When Hannah and I went to Ferrari this afternoon we ran into her in the paddock.” 

“Babe, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He asks, frustration sneaking its way into his voice. 

Biting your lip, you second guess your decision to keep this from him until now. Knowing how shit qualifying had been though, it only takes a moment before you’re firm in your belief that you did the right thing. “I didn’t want you to be distracted. I know how are when you get inside your head and I didn’t want her to ruin this weekend for you.” 

Which is exactly what was happening. 

Lando turns away from you then, limbs untangling from yours. Your skin is instantly chilled after losing his body heat and you have to restrain yourself from moving to follow him across the bed. Lando may be a pretty physical person but you knew how to read his body language well enough to know exactly what he was feeling. Everything that he was communicating to you with the way his shoulders were set, his jaw tight, eyes unfocused on the dark ceiling above him told you that he needed space. 

“Fuck.” He whispers, scrubbing his hands over his face, the slight stubble starting to make its way back on his face after not shaving this morning. 

“Don’t be mad at me.” You plead, unable to keep the anxiety out of your tone. 

Lando rolls back over towards you, eyes soft with regret. “I’m not mad.” He assures you, reaching out to pull you closer to him. You practically sigh in relief when he slots his thigh between your legs, hitching your top leg over his hip. He drags a finger down your jaw as he pastes a smile on his face, one that you know is for your benefit only. You can still see the pain and regret in his eyes as he holds your gaze and you know he’s thinking about how Allegra nearly ruined everything that he had with you. 

“I’m not mad at you.” He repeats himself, more for your benefit than his own. “I know why you did it and I appreciate it. I’m just so fucking frustrated that she’s here. It’s just another reminder of…everything that I’d rather put solidly in the past.” He pulls you closer, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck where he mouths at the skin there. “I don’t like thinking about how close I was to losing you.”  

Dragging a single finger up and down the toned line of his bicep, you can’t help the smile that finds its way onto your lips when Lando visible shudders at your touch. “But you didn’t in the end and that’s what matters the most, isn’t it?” You murmur, lips finding his in the dim room. Pressing your hips into his, you try to remind him that you’re real, you’re here and you’re not going anywhere. You couldn’t bare to lose him any more than Lando could bare to lose you. 

“It’s just such a mess. A mess I know you don’t want to be brought into. You’ve worked so hard for the reputation you have and here I come, threatening everything you’ve built because I allowed myself to get talked into a fake relationship with a woman I can’t stand.” 

You pull back to Lando’s forced to look at you fully. The anguish you see on his face sends a sharp shock of pain cutting across your chest so brightly it steals the breath from your lungs. “I want you to listen to me, okay?” You wait, staring pointedly at Lando until he nods his head in agreement. “She can come and try to ruin what I’ve built, what we’ve built together these last few months but she’s not going to succeed. You have proof of what she was to you and that was nothing more than a PR thing. Sure, it might be embarrassing for that shit to get made public but we’ll get through it.” You pause to lean forward, pressing your lips to his. “Together.” You murmur against Lando’s mouth. 

Lando pulls you closer to him, deepening the kiss but its you that runs your tongue along the seam of his mouth, a silent ask for him to open for you, which he does immediately. The warmth that floods your blood has you rolling your hips into his, desperate for more friction. You know Lando is in a mood and you’d do anything to smooth out the rough edges of his troubled mind.

 “Please don’t give her one more thought tonight, okay? We’ll figure this out but right now, I want to make sure you feel better. Can I do that? Can I make you feel good?” You murmur against his heated skin as you drag your mouth away from his lips, down his jaw, towards the thick column of his neck. 

You take the moan that rumbles through Lando’s chest as permission to do exactly what you’ve just asked. Usually it’s him taking charge when you two are together like this but tonight there’s something different crackling in the air. You can tell he needs to be taken care of, the combined stress of a tough day and then Allegra’s appearance in the paddock is weight heavy on his shoulders. With a gentle push of his shoulders, you roll your boyfriend onto his back before dragging a heated line down his neck towards the hollow of his throat. 

Lando tangles his fingers in your hair, gently guiding you further down his body. You work slowly, teasing and nipping your way down his chest, stopping briefly to flick your tongue across one nipple. When he gasps at the way your teeth graze the sensitive skin there, you can’t help the grin that finds its way onto your face. 

“Fuck, baby.” Lando breathes as you continue to move your mouth further down his body. The way you feel against his heated skin has the tension melting out of his muscles so quickly he barely has time to wrap his mind around how quickly the energy shifted between you. The way you always wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that he was okay, was something he’d never experienced before and he was certain that he’d do anything to make sure you never doubted his feelings for you ever again. 

You reached the waistband of his boxers, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his skin. With a slow, deliberate movement, you pushed them down, revealing how hard Lando already was for you. His breath hitched, a low groan escaping his lips as he lifted his hips slightly, a silent plea for you take him in the way he desperately needed you to. 

Your hands graze the thick corded muscles of his thighs as you finally take him in your mouth, the taste of him, salty and musky and familiar to you now, filling your senses. You moved slowly at first, teasing the sensitive tip with your tongue, eliciting a series of soft moans from deep within his chest. You ran your tongue up along the underside of his length, tracing the vein that runs up the underside of his cock. 

“God, that mouth.” Lando moans as he gathers your hair together in a makeshift ponytail to give him something tug on. He knows how much you like that, when he guides you to the places that give him the most pleasure with a rough tug of your hair. It has you squeezing your thighs together, which you barely ignore, wanting to remain solely focused on Lando and his pleasure tonight. 

You begin to move with more urgency, your hand gripping at his thigh, eyes flicking up to look at him through wet lashes. Lando’s moans grow louder, his free hand reaching down to twine his fingers with your hand, giving it a squeeze to let you know how much he’s enjoying this. He’s lost in the sensation of being surrounded by your wet, warm mouth, the tension that had gripped him all day finally melting away. The way you took all of him without hesitation, whimpering when his hips force his dick deeper towards the back of your throat grounds him, reminding him that he’s got someone to share the good and the bad now, that he’s not alone and you’re in this thing together. 

The way he reacts to the way you take him has heat pulsing between your legs. Unable to keep your fingers to yourself anymore, you let go of Lando’s hand before trailing your fingers down between your legs. It’s not enough to really distract you, but the pressure from your fingers against your clit is enough to dull the aching need that you know you’re going to need to deal with later. 

Lando bucks his hips against your mouth, his moans turning to ragged gasps as you take him even deeper. The way you swallow against him has a desperate whine spilling from his lips in a way that sends zaps of electricity straight to where your fingers are currently working over your wet pussy. He was so close, you could feel it in the way his thighs were tensing beneath the hand that gripped at his taut flesh. 

“Gonna swallow all my cum baby? I’m so fucking close. I want you to swallow every drop of me, can you do that for me?” 

You’re too preoccupied to give him a proper answer, not wanting to let go of the heavy length of him that sits so solidly in your mouth so you just nod, hoping that its enough for him. It’s so grounding, so erotic the way you feel him twitching away in your mouth that you’re pretty sure you could spent the rest of the night with him in your mouth like this. 

And then he’s there, right on the edge of release and you’re flicking your tongue against the sensitive head of his cock and with one last guttural moan, Lando spills into your mouth. The warm, salty cum slides down your throat as you hold him steady, allowing him to fuck up into your mouth as he crests over the waves of pleasure that you brought him to. 

Lando’s eyes, still glazed over with pleasure, find yours as he reaches out to trace the curve of your cheek, his touch gentle, almost reverent. “Holy fuck, baby. Thank you” He croaks out, voice raspy as the exhaustion of the day settles over him. He’s soft and pliant like this and you continue to hold him in your mouth, waiting until he’s fully come down to release him with a soft pop. 

He pulls you up his body, his lips finally finding yours in a slow, tender kiss that says more than he could ever find the words. His mouth works yours over, the taste of his own release still on your lips. “You’re too good to me.” He murmurs against your lips as he tucks you against his side. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll repay the favor, okay?” 

You hum, eyes drifting shut as the warmth of Lando’s body sinks deeper into your muscles. “It’s okay, this is enough for me right now. Go to sleep for a bit and we can take a shower later tonight, okay?” 

“What did I do to deserve you?” Lando wonders before his eyes flutter shut and he allows a deliciously satisfying sleep to pull him under. 

tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @xoxomansee

[valyrielwrites]

As You Are

Part 2/? (full fic available on Ao3)

Relationship: Aemond Targaryen / AFAB Reader Word Count: 2308 Summary: Set one month after the wedding, you and your husband Prince Aemond come to terms with the growing love that blooms within the bright flame of desire. Warnings: Smut, 18+ themes, Oral, Sex

Author Note: This is a follow up to what was originally a oneshot that I posted back in 2023, which can be found here (Part 1). However, this can also be read as a stand alone ✨ enjoy!

You woke to the sound of chirping birds, squinting as your bleary eyes adjusted to the warm morning light that filtered through the half-opened curtains. Last night's sheets were still wrapped around your tender body as you rolled over to find your husband's side of the bed, empty and unmade.

Prince Aemond sat a short distance away, his unbound silver hair tucked behind his ear as he remained perched in an armchair by the open window, a leather-bound book in hand.

It had only been a month since the wedding, and although you had your own personal quarters, you still spent most of your mornings like that - warming your husband's bed, reluctant to part from him unless necessary, relishing the comfort that his company brought you.

"Come back to bed..." you hummed, your throat hoarse and heavy from your slumber.

He looked up at the sound of your voice, the sapphire in his eye refracting ever so slightly in the light, "I couldn't sleep."

"We do not have to sleep," you said.

A small smile broke the focus on his face as you carelessly sat up, allowing the silk sheets to slip and expose your bare breast in an open invitation.

"You're incorrigible," he sighed and raised a brow, yet put his book down all the same.

You gave him a wicked smile, "Am I?"

Aemond stood and walked slowly toward the bed, his hand ghosting the knot at his waist that barely held his robe together, those long fingers sliding carefully in but pausing just short of unfastening the loop.

"Here I am, enjoying a perfectly good book, and yet you are determined to drive me to distraction..." he stopped at the foot of the bed and looked down at you with a warm smile that betrayed his scolding tone.

You playfully kicked out your leg, stroking along the length of his thigh with your foot as you pouted, "I am terribly sorry, my prince."

"My wife ought to know her place," he teased, a considering look in his eye as he trailed his fingers along the curve of your calf. "Hmm, I dread to know what others at court might say about your behaviour."

"Well, 'tis hard to know my place when my husband so cruelly abandons me come dawn..."

"Abandons?" he scoffed. "You would accuse me of being so heartless? When I simply wished not to disturb your slumber?"

You squealed in delight when he grasped your ankle to drag you slowly across the mattress, your back slipping against the silk sheets with ease as you offered no resistance. Your body ached for him, something dark and consuming pooled in the pit of your stomach as he set you down against the edge of the bed beneath his towering figure.

"Ah - I humbly beg my Lord husband's forgiveness for any offence caused," you giggled unapologetically, sitting up and shaking your tousled hair out of your face to better see his mock disapproval.

Aemond's hand caressed your jaw, carefully lifting your gaze to meet him as he stroked his thumb along your bottom lip, "How shall you make it up to me?"

"I have a few ideas," your voice was low, desperate with wanting.

Aemond took a sharp breath as you pulled apart the knot that keeps his robe together, his hardening cock suddenly freed from the fabric as you took him in your hand and stroked slowly from the head to the base. You wet your lips and leant forward to press a delicate kiss against the shaft, your grip tightening just ever so slightly as his fingers entangled themselves amidst your hair.

He smirked, "Enlighten me?"

Aemond twitched when you gazed up at him, desire blazing through your eyes as you carefully flit your tongue along the pre-cum that gathered at the tip, watching eagerly when his lips parted and a small gasp caught in his throat.

You took your time, slowly but surely wrapping your lips around him as you lowered your mouth onto his considerable length, relaxing your jaw to take him as far as you could before the urge to breathe again had a chance to spoil your fun.

"Fuck -" Aemond plead, his hand stroking the crown of your head as he guided you.

You let out a hum of satisfaction while you swirled your tongue around his cock, bobbing your head, and watching the way that your husband's head rolled forward with a low groan. Aemond grunted and held you in place when you swallowed, a feverish heat prickling up his spine when you groaned around his cock and pushed yourself as far as you can go before your breath escapes you.  

He drank in the sight of you, your body flush with desire, with the insatiable hunger that had alighted between you. It took everything he had not to buck his hips, to chase the pleasure that you coaxed from him, to allow you the power to unravel him so perfectly.

You withdrew with a gasp for air, your lungs desperate for relief, the laughter shaky in your throat as Aemond quickly leant down to steal a kiss.

"Am I forgiven?" you moaned softly into his mouth, his tongue hot as it caressed your own.

"Not yet," he whispered, his teeth grazing your lower lip. "But if this is the kind of apology I can expect to receive, perhaps we should bicker more often?"

"Only if you extend the same courtesy to me," you replied.

"Hmm... " he grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

You felt his hand cup the swell of your breast, his touch was warm against the cool morning air as his thumb traced circles around your nipple, his kiss softening as he lowered himself to kneel on the edge of the mattress.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes half-lidded, your forehead resting against his own. Aemond allowed you a moment to catch your breath, for you to weave your fingers through his silver hair and graze the nape of his neck, before he slowly shifted and pulled you into his lap. His hands stroked along the outline of your body, charting every bend and curve in his endless endeavour to know you as no other man could.

He brought his lips to yours again, his voice low as his hand wandered to the apex of your thighs, "Here?"

"Aemond -" you let out a ragged breath, a wordless plea for more as his forefinger began to run slow clumsy strokes against your clit.

"You're already so wet for me," he hissed as you deepened the kiss, his finger slipping inside with ease. "I could take you right now," he withdrew to the knuckle and slowly pushed back in with a second digit. "Is that what you want?"

You whimpered as his thumb stopped at the bud, pressing firm as his fingers thrust in and out with agonising precision, pleasure pooling in your belly as you rocked your hips forward. His lips found the crook of your neck as your head rolled back, playfully nipping the sensitive skin as you reached for his cock and found it harder than ever before.

Aemond groaned, the pace of his fingers quickening as you stroked him, overcome by an aching need to bury himself inside you. Acting entirely on impulse, before he even realised what he was doing, he removed his fingers and brushed your hand aside to move you so that your body was finally flush against his.

"I need you in me," you begged him as he angled his cock beneath you, the tip brushing perfectly against your swollen clit on its way to your entrance. "Seven hells, Aemond... Fuck -"

You locked eyes as he raised his hips, and the length of him finally pushed in, his gaze intent and unwavering as he sheathed himself as deep as he could go. He stared and stared at you, holding your head in place so that you couldn't look away, and a deep and unspeakable sense of belonging closed the space around you until you were all that was left in his world.

You let out a restrained groan at the way that your body tightened around him, at how full he had made you. Your hands gripped the strong muscles around his shoulders, pulling him into an eager embrace, as if clinging to him could ground you somewhat - to remind you of who you were when the rest of your senses escaped you.

Aemond closed his eye and buried his face into your neck as his hands rested at your lower back, his cock twitching inside of you as he breathed in your scent, for a moment unsure how to tell where he ended and you began. All that he knew, all that he could be... You were his, and he was yours, joined body and soul to become two parts of a greater whole.

You rolled your hips forward as naturally as breathing, a pulse of relief flooding your veins as your body relaxed into him with a gratified shudder. You felt Aemond's mouth on your neck, trailing kisses up and alongside your jaw, his breath hot and heady as you leant back far enough for his lips to find your own again, muffling the sounds that you made.

He matched your movement, rocking his hips in time with your own as the pace gathered a sense of urgency, a longing call for release that heightened with every thrust. Aemond could feel how close you already were, the way your muscles tensed, how frantic your moans had become, as you locked your legs around his waist to try to gain some leverage and drive him deeper.

"-Not yet," he gasped, his voice commanding and raw, as he suddenly lifted you again and shuffled up the bed, tossing you onto your back against the pillows.

You whined at the unforeseen pause, watching the way his cock glistened with your arousal as he adjusted his position, yearning for him to be inside you again before you could realise how empty it feels when he is not.

"Put it back in," you pleaded. "Please... Oh gods, I love how you feel when you're inside me."  

Aemond knelt upright, pulling your legs up over his shoulders as he brought the head of his cock back home again.

"You love it, hmm?" he asked as he leant forward and bore his weight with both arms.

"Yes-" you tilted your hips up, chasing that connection, brow furrowed in frustration as you only got as far as the tip.

Aemond let out a huff of laughter, his head dipping even closer as he brought his forehead to rest against yours, "... Do you love me?"

You swallowed, stopping as you finally met his gaze again and felt the weight of the air between you, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. You already knew the answer, and he did too, but neither of you had breathed truth into those words yet.

It was strange how something so simple could mean so much, how the dull flame of desire could burn into the brightest love you had ever known.

You reached up to tuck a silver strand behind his ear, your fingers tenderly stroking his cheek as a sweet smile breaks across your face and said, "always, Aemond."

"Ñuha jorrāeliarzy..." his eye closed as relief washed over him.

"Is that Valyrian?"

"Mmm," he hummed in confirmation. "It means 'my beloved'."

He didn't give you the chance to reply, his lips were already on yours again, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he finally pushed his cock back into your heat. You cried out in ecstasy when he hit you at exactly the right angle, your walls tightening around him as he relentlessly drove into you.

Your back arched off the bed as he pulled himself upright again, his arm pinning your legs in place as he fucked you hard and deep, the sound of nothing but your grateful moans and skin against skin to keep his tempo.

A few thrusts more, and you were approaching the precipice, pleasure sparking through your core as you writhed beneath him. He let out a strangled groan when he felt you tense around his cock, the sight of you so thoroughly undone bringing him closer to the edge, too. He looked down at himself, at the way you took him so perfectly in, at how you trembled as your orgasm peaked, and he couldn't stop himself from falling with you.

You shuddered as you felt him empty himself inside, relishing the immense heat of him when he buried himself to the hilt, a feverish look in his eye as his hips gradually stilled. Your legs slipped from his shoulders as he slumped forward to kiss you, a languid and sweet relief as you brought your bodies flush again.

"When does it end? This want that I have for you," he murmured against your lips, his thumb slowly stroking the outline of your cheek. "I can scarcely remember what I was doing before you distracted me."

"I don't recall either, my love," you whispered.

Aemond releases a content sigh as he unsheathed himself and rolled onto his side, reaching for a nearby towel so that he had something to clean the mess that he had made. He let out a soft laugh and pressed a kiss against your breast as he wiped between your thighs.

You settled back under the covers together, cradled in his arms as if the world outside the room no longer existed, as if there was nothing else worth getting up for. You knew that you couldn't stay like that forever, and that eventually duty would call him away - but for now, you were both exactly where you belonged.

[tabiito]

DEBÍ TIRAR MÁS FOTOS I — hard launching with the blue lock boys after a rumour includes: sae, karasu, rin + bonus: shidou note: i've tried to keep fcs ambigious but unfortunately i was to only find fem bodied ones, ima work and make the next part more gender neutral read part 2

Sae Itoshi, who reads the rumour and straight up announces your engagement

Sae squints over your shoulder as your lips part in disbelief over the brazen lies the gossip account has been posting. You feel his hot breath on your bare shoulder, stretching your arm further, knowing he's not wearing his reading glasses which he's left in the villa.

It's a lovely summer evening in Mallorca, miles away from Ibiza, and by some eerie circumstance the beach at your resort is empty, save for the two of you. Your day of sunbathing and reading had been pleasant, however, this preposterous rumour poked through your sanctuary of peace as a friend forwarded it to you.

This was one of many you'd had to endure in your three years of dating Sae (longer, if you'd count the long-distance pining), so it doesn't bother you as much. You know what you were getting into when you set your sights on a football prodigy as successful and good looking as Sae, though he hates how you placidly accept this news with a purse of your lips and a sigh.

He feels offence on your behalf as he spies the hotel staff setting up the candlelight dinner he plans on proposing to you at at the edge of the shore, the Cartier ring you've been eyeing for the longest time tucked into his bag.

Pressing a kiss to the juncture of skin between your neck and shoulder, he ignores the guilt that's creeping up his spine when he tells you to "pay the paparazzi no mind."

He can't help himself to slip his phone out and snap a picture of the scenery before him, you basking in the twilight in your bikini top, a copy of My Year of Rest and Relaxation over your eyes as the blazing Sun sinks into the sea.

The decision to keep your relationship private was a mutual one; in the initial stages Sae didn't want you to be harassed by his legions of loyal fans, and you didn't want Sae, known for his private image to be harangued by reporters when they should be focusing on his performance. You never really talked about reverting this decision, and as time with him flew by, you became an expert at dealing with the baggage that comes with being involved with a celebrity.

However, when Sae feels your incadescent smile against his lips, the band on your finger glinting in the moonlight, the images of the beginning of a shared life flashing at the back of his head, he thinks that you shouldn't have to deal with his baggage any longer; not when the two of you were starting a chapter together.

Later that night, inhaling the scent of the ocean and strawberry margaritas in your hair as you sleep peacefully in his arms, Sae hits "post."

Oliver Aiku, who needs to be defended by you, the only person who he's ever posted

"Ooh, you're getting clocked," you giggle, carding your free hand through his hair and swiping through your Twitter feed with the other. Cracking one emerald eye open, Oliver lets out a weary sigh.

"What now?", he grumbles. "If they've finally traced back all those Barou dating rumours to me just know I've included you in my will."

"'Included'? Am I not getting your entire estate, you stingy old man?", you tease, tugging at his roots. He groans in response, mimicking a ruffled cat who'd just been rudely interrupted from its afternoon nap.

"And no, apparently, your exes have grouped together to do a confessional on you in some tabloid," you chuckle, passing him his phone. You, better than anyone else, know Oliver's complicated romantic past, womanising behaviour and hookup culture fuelled coping tendencies while the two of you pined for each other from the sidelines for years, hoping to erase thoughts of the other by pursuing half-assed relationships.

Not that it worked particularly well, considering you're spending summer break in his apartment in Stockholm simulating level of domesticity you'd taken to a little scarily fast.

Reading out some of the downright malicious things his exes have said ("Really? You'd place sports bets based on their recommendations? No wonder you lost so much cash."), he hears the tinkle of your laughter through his sun-dappled room at some of these quotes, happy at how you were secure enough with him to dismiss these silly one liners as figments of his unscrupulous past.

The truth is that he's really been trying. You've always been too important to him to fuck things up with — the source of his exes' despair of always being "obsessed with texting someone else at late hours of the night", courtesy of different timezones, or being the only person he'd pick up drunk when you'd be in Tokyo. For once, he was nervous about a relationship, treating you with unexpected gentleness.

You've taken many of his firsts, he realises: first proper date he actually planned out, first time sending flowers at two and three month anniversaries, all that corny stuff he never saw himself doing.

He only supposes you take this first and last from him, too.

Swiping off Twitter, Oliver begins poring through your Photos to find a suitable snap from last night when you'd met his friends at the club. Settling on one where he's wearing cufflinks with the initials of your name, he accesses his Instagram from your phone (a safety measure), calmly adding one more post to his limited feed.

Rin Itoshi, who's honestly been itching to do this for a while now

"For fuck's sake," Rin grouses, sipping the water you just handed him. Drenched in sweat, jersey sticking to his back, he'd been grateful when you showed up to give him company as he trained, saying something about "studying anatomy" while pencilling in your sketchbook as he took shot after shot.

Instead, he's subjected to you quizzically raising an eyebrow in the direction of his over-enthusiastic physiotherapist who had a thing for announcing to the public whenever her and Rin were together.

Peeved at the sheer idiocy of the rumour, and irritated at her complete disrespect for Rin's boundaries, with his dislike of publicity well-documented, you were rightfully going to march over and give her a piece of your mind. It wasn't like you'd spend your afternoons in the bleachers of the Parc Des Princes to soak in the sweat, or that Rin would saunter over to you in every free minute to critique your latest doodle — since the day you'd preached at him in the Louvre, everyone from the coaching analysts to substitutes on PXG knew you were a couple.

Rin can practically feel the annoyance radiating off you in an aura unlike the ones that possessed footballers during heated matches. A little pleased with the jealousy something as petty as a gossip column elicited from you, he appreciatively hands you the bottle back and gives your hand a squeeze.

"I've got this."

Though he has to wrangle out the passwords for his social media accounts from his management since he rarely uses them, Rin makes it a point to carefully vet and select photos of you and him during his break. Though he looks comical in some, and downright unflattering in others, he couldn't give a damn less seeing the excitement in your eyes as you lean over the barrier, Airdropping photos to him.

After curating the perfect post, Rin calls for his physio, who practically skips along the grass to the bleachers, but blanches when she sees your unimpressed expression.

"Take a picture of us," he brusquely asks, shoving his phone into her hands, downturned in a sneer. Before she can react, he catches you completely off guard, crashing his lips against yours. Your eyes are shut, but you know him well enough to sense that he's smirking right now. He kisses you a lot longer than necessary for one shot, snaking his hand along your waist for good measure, practically pulling you over the blue barriers on your tiptoes.

You squeak when he lets go, licking his lips ever so slightly as the mortified PT squirms while handing him his phone. "Huh. So you are half-competent at something after all."

Tabito Karasu, who's three months in and knows you're the one

Karasu's a perfect gentleman. Even before you started dating, back in highschool, he'd be one of those quietly chivalric guys who'd hold doors open or jackets above your head if it rained. The kind of guy who'd snatch grocery bags out of your hand despite making a quip about "weak arms." Now, you think that he's a little too perfect.

Things that would be a dealbreaker in other relationships, such as both of your packed schedules, the invasiveness of the internet and the fact that time was not on your side most of the time almost spurred Karasu on to make an extra effort. Your research is going late into the night? He's there to pick you up. You're craving takeout after being absolutely decimated by a physics seminar? He's already wearing his baseball cap and sunglasses, one foot out of the door.

Truth be told, Karasu's a little over-awed by you and your brain He thinks he could spent hours immersed in your world as you ramble on about the paradoxes and theories you're learning, or the cutting-edge research you're contributing to. Though it makes him acutely aware that he has much to learn outside of football, you satiate his curiosity in ways that make him feel that he's the only person you've deigned worth talking to.

Otoya makes fun of him for how whipped he is, and though he hasn't had much experience prior to you other than people just throwing themselves at him, he knows this is more than a fleeting crush. So he goes the extra mile in every little thing, sparing no expense.

The day your finals were over he ringed in the celebrations with you in your dorm, blasting songs he was surprised you even knew the lyrics to. Scaring him with your ability to recite Future bar for bar with him on "Low Life", Karasu feels overcome with an urge hold onto you for dear life. The need to make it exclusively clear to everyone around him that you're the one for him becomes much clearer when a shopping trip turns to an absurd coincidence in the rumour mill, one that's got you all nervous in front of him.

He can't help but feel the dull stab of anger as you, clearly overwhelmed by the opinion of the Internet, spend the day upset. If it's one thing he dislikes, it's when things don't go his way. Instead of complaining about it, though, the words leave his mouth before he can even process what they mean, a rarity for someone like him.

"Come with me to the JFA dinner this weekend."

BONUS: Shidou Ryusei, who never even thought it was a secret

a/n yall im not freaky enough yet to write for shidou but i think the scenario is a really funny one in my head i had sm fun doing this though we got barou n isagi down for pt 2 who else?

[utilitycaster]

We've seen three death moves overall for CR Daggerheart (in addition to this episode, Kexon, Travis's Menagerie character, did one as well) and every single time they've chosen Risk It All and so far they've all made it so I am EXCITED to see more. I do want to talk about multiple issues that can come up with D&D death/resurrection rules and which have, indeed, come up in Critical Role campaigns, which death moves address. I've mentioned a lot of these in scattered posts and comments, but here are the ones I have in mind all in one place.

Not ready to say goodbye to the character. It gives a graceful and easy option for people who don't want to let a beloved PC die - just go unconscious. The scar mechanic in Daggerheart is also great because it becomes more likely with higher levels (scars are if you roll equal to or under your character's level, ie, had Sam or Ashley picked that option, they only had a 1/12 chance to take a scar since they're level 1), so it allows you to ease in or hang on to a low level character for a while.

Less immediate burden on healers (or people with potions). I happen to enjoy the challenge of playing a D&D healer, but it does mean that if you're the cleric and you are perfectly positioned for a devastating Inflict Wounds and someone goes down and rolls a nat 1 death save, suddenly your turn becomes "heal or at least stabilize now or else you're kind of an asshole." The collaborative, turn-based but not specifically ordered battle rules of Daggerheart do a lot to (pun not intended) combat this, but the fact that someone can simply go unconscious and sit out the rest of the fight means it doesn't shift what everyone else does.

No anticlimactic deaths. This is, off topic, a big refutation in my opinion to the "made for actual play" argument (which is itself not a valid argument anyway) but: there is no going out quietly on a third failed death save. Either you stay alive, you canonically go out in a blaze of glory, or there is a literal above table gamble for your life with the odds only slightly in your favor. No slow bleeding out that the DM has to narrate to seem more cool than it is; no five rounds of dread; even if you risk it all and fail, it's one and done.

Less fear of bold moves. Consider: you do have slightly in-your-favor odds to risk it all; and if you win, you may very well end up in better shape than you were before! You probably will, actually, given that you have no hit points left. Because there's an out provided if you really can't say goodbye there's really no reason not to risk it on the battlefield, and also if you're staring down a TPK, one of you risking it all could genuinely turn the tide in your favor. It might be better to go down and hope you get back up than to play it too safe in a battle of attrition.

No critting and immediately falling unconscious again. A crit on a death save is in fact really fucking good in D&D too, but you do have one hit point, so you get your turn, and then you might just go straight back down. A crit in Daggerheart? You're fully back on your feet and better than ever.

You can choose to let a death stand with minimal OOC discussion. On the other hand, if you feel this is a narratively meaningful place to let the character die? You ensure a dramatic and satisfying finale, and you make your definitive exit, without needing to pause an emotional combat scene to provide the other players with, effectively, your character's DNR. The death move you chose (and the fact that it's very hard to resurrect in Daggerheart) does the work for you.

Resurrection never feels cheap. Obviously there's the fact that resurrection is literally extremely difficult to do in Daggerheart, far more so than D&D; but also, if you die via running out of hope slots from multiple times choosing to avoid death, that is something you'd be aware was coming up - rather like how a character with multiple scars in Candela Obscura knows they'll need to retire. You can't stave off death forever, but you'll know when you're running low on hope slots and be able to make peace with it - or decide to meet it head on.

[winter-parrot]

for @911whatisyourpride week 3: family. took this prompt a little sideways but the idea hit me like a truck like two hours ago and then i typed this entire ficlet directly into the tumblr post dialog like a madwoman, so.

buck doesn't exactly try to adopt a dog, and fails anyway. tommy picks up a dog and an (ex?)-boyfriend. | bucktommy (duh) | post season-8 | 2.4k

now on ao3!

------------

Buck keeps thinking about Blaze. Not Bingo, who went back to his family and is probably spoiled and happy and exactly where he belongs. But Blaze, whom for that single day had belonged to Buck. Who had been a friend when he and Eddie were on the outs, and everything was falling apart, and he had nobody to talk to because everyone thought he was overreacting. Someone who was happy to see him, who looked at him adoringly, who took joy from Buck's mere existence and gave joy in return.

Now, his life is a hundred times the mess that it was back then, but the parallels aren't escaping him.

And yeah, yeah, he's always got Maddie. But she's not his, not really; she's got more important people in her life. Her own family. Chimney, and Jee, and newborn baby Robert-who-he-still-cannot-call-Bobby. Chim's got her and Jee and Robert, in return. Eddie's got Chris, and Tia Pepa. Hen's got Karen and Denny and Mara too, now. Athena's got May and Harry, and anyway he's not going to impose on her, not now, not after everything.

Point is, everyone's got someone who's theirs. Everyone except him, that is. For a minute there he thought he might have Tommy, but well. Shows you how much he knows about love, about building a family.

So instead he's sitting all alone--in a shitty little Airbnb he's got for the week, because apartment hunting in LA is anything but fast--thinking about Blaze. And looking up dog rescues, just to dream about holding them all, and bringing one home, and having someone to greet him and be excited to see him when he gets home.

He knows it's pathetic--knew it even then, when he was clinging to Blaze and ignoring Eddie--but the one thing more pathetic than having a dog for your only friend and source of love, is having no one for a friend and source of love. Although, dreaming about having a dog for his only friend and source of love, when he can't even get a dog because he doesn't have a home address and anywhere with a pet deposit is going to be way out of his price range, is probably more pathetic than both.

The thought doesn't stop him from scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling past the little squares of photos and blurbs. There's a five-year-old beagle named Dot that reminds him a little too painfully of Blaze. A six-month-old mutt of a puppy--they think it's maybe a boxer mix--with bright blue eyes called Frankie. A massive ninety-pound Doberman named Sergeant with a noble air to him--and behaviour problems, apparently. A tiny yorkie, by far the teey-tiniest dog he's ever seen, called Mini.

And then, at the bottom, a raggedy three-legged lab mix called Tres. He's the longest-running resident of the shelter, according to his bio. Lost his leg in an accident, while wandering in the streets. Seven years old, old enough to have trouble being adopted even without the missing leg. He's also got the biggest, most soulful brown eyes Buck's ever seen on a dog. Ever seen period, maybe.

Before he quite realizes what he's doing, Buck has the address memorized and the keys to his Jeep in his hand. No, that's not entirely true. He sort of halfway realizes what he's doing, but refuses to let himself recognize it all the way. Because if he did, then he'd have to acknowledge that it's insane, and then he'd have nothing to do but sit there and think about how pathetic he is, and how sad Tres looked in the photos.

The shelter is almost halfway across the city, because he wasn't exactly paying attention to the location when he started down this impromptu spiral. But that's alright; he's on day one of a four off, so he's got the time to kill. It's early enough, too, so traffic won't even be that bad. (He Does Not think about why he was up so early on his day off. That way lies grief and pain and danger, and he does not want to end up accidentally wrapping his car around a power pole.)

Still, this is LA, and "not that bad" ends up being nearly an hour instead. Plenty of time to think about what the hell he's doing, and all the million reasons it's a stupid, impulsive idea. But he's started this already, going Full Buck as they'd say, and he's determined not to turn back. Maybe he can't take Tres home, doesn't even have a home to take Tres to, but that doesn't mean he can't go see the dog, right? Maybe he can't be enough for anyone in his life, can't make them happy or hold them together, but surely he can be a bright spot in one sad dog's day. He can be good for this one thing.

The shelter's open, but just barely, when he gets there. No cars in the tiny parking lot, thank God, because most sane people don't show up to animal shelters at--he checks his phone--8:17 in the morning. The tiny bells above the door chime a happy little chorus as he walks in. A woman behind the front desk looks up, seeming startled to see him there. Fair enough.

"Hi, u-um, I saw this dog on your website?" Buck says, uncertainty tilting his sentence up into a question.

"Are you looking to adopt?" the woman--Miranda, according to the name tag Buck's now close enough to read--asks, already rummaging for some forms.

"U-um, not-not yet. I don't, um, I don't currently have a pet-friendly place," Buck says. He doesn't have any place, of course, but that's a lot to unload on this poor woman at barely eight in the morning. "B-but, um, but I'd like to someday. When I'm in a- a better place." Winces at the phrasing; apparently he's so chock full of death euphemisms these days, it's leaking out everywhere. "I just, um, I just wanted to see the dog for now? Maybe play wit him for a bit, if-if that's something I can do?"

Miranda looks at him for a long moment. It feels, oddly, like the way Bobby used to look at him. Piercing and uncompromising, but not unkind. Like she was looking at him, really looking, past his shell and right down to the core of him--not to judge, or find him wanting, but just to see. To understand. To maybe even help. The moment stretches like gum, and Buck's not even sure he's breathing. Not until she nods once, sharply, and says, "What was his name? The dog you were looking at?"

"U-um, Tres," Buck says, somehow surprised by this turn of events despite literally showing up here for it. "I was looking at Tres."

Miranda's face turns apologetic. "Oh hon, someone already put in yestereday to adopt him."

Something inside Buck stretches past breaking point, snaps into overstretched pieces. Of course he can't even do this right. Too late and not enough. Forces his lips into a smile that feels far too brittle for how practiced it's become, these past few weeks. "R-right. Okay. That's, that's good for him, right? G-going home to someone who can love him." Love him better than Buck ever could. Who probably has a yard for Tres to play around in, and a cozy fireplace for Tres to curl up in front off, with a fluffy dog bed all set up and waiting.

Miranda nods, but she seems distracted, chewing at her lip. Looks down at her desk. Shuffles through some papers, looking for something. Squints down at one sheet, running her fingers along the lines. "Pick up time, pick up time... ah! Yeah, that's what I thought." She looks up at him, still holding the paper in her hand. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy--the people who come here for the saddest dogs usually are. You can see other dogs, of course, whichever ones you want. But if you've got your heart set on Tres, The owner's out back right now, picking up Tres and his stuff. I can go and ask if he'd be okay with you at least say hi to Tres."

Buck nods, mumbles out a thanks that may or may not come out intelligible past the growing knot in his throat. He can't explain it, why meeting Tres feels so important. Maybe it's because he felt like they were kindred souls, in some terribly pathetic way, forgotten and left behind and waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to finally want him. Maybe it's because he thought that he could save someone, even just one sad dog, from the terrible loneliness eating him up from the inside--and be saved in return. Maybe he just wanted to be good for something, anything, and this was the one tiny thing that felt maybe, possibly, within his reach.

Or maybe he was just a sucker for a sob story and big sad eyes and abandoned dogs. It doesn't have to be that deep.

Miranda pops her head in from the back door where she'd disappeared to. "He said yes, of course. Come on and meet Tres. It'd be good for his socialization anyway, to meet some more people."

Well. At least this whole insane trip wasn't a total loss, then. He can go meet Tres and his new owner, play with a dog for a few minutes, and then drive back to his sad Airbnb so he can keep searching apartment listings. Buck makes his way across the lobby, towards the door that Miranda's holding open. Ducks out through the gap. Steps into a little back yard, lined with straggly grass and patches of sand. Looks around for Tres.

Finds himself looking at familiar blue eyes, instead.

"Evan?" Tommy says, staring right back at him like he's seeing a ghost. His eyes are wide, and so blue, and rimmed faintly red with exhaustion. Buck's pretty sure there's new lines in their corners, stupidly wants to reach out a run a gentle finger over them, to learn their new shapes. Clenches his hands into fists in his pockets to stop himself.

"T-tommy," he says, more breath than word. Has to swallow twice and clear his throat awkwardly before he tries again. "Hey. I, uh, I didn't know you were in the market for a dog."

Tommy shrugs, a little awkward. Something about the motion somehow makes those strong, wide shoulders seem small. "House was feeling too quiet. Thought a dog might help liven things up. Plus, I've always been weak for the puppy eyes." The last sentence comes out with the weight of a confession, too heavy for the back yard of an animal shelter with a soon-to-be-spoiled three-legged dog sniffing around by their feet.

Buck makes his lips curl up at the corner, pretends he doesn't notice it feels more like a grimace than a smile. "You've got good taste," he says, jerking his chin towards Tres. "I had my eyes on him this morning, too."

"Sorry," Tommy says, and it feels like he's talking about more than the dog. "Didn't mean to steal him from you."

It's Buck's turn to shrug, this time. He tries not to think about other things Tommy's stolen, not from him but for him. Tries to hold on to the fading memory of how he felt that sun-drenched morning in Eddie's kitchen, in that helicopter still full of hope over the LA skyline. Tommy's going to be good to Tres. Buck knows, because he was good to him, too. Besides, Tommy's got a solid house, big back yard and a fireplace just like he'd been picturing.

Buck's got no house, and no dog, and no one to go home to. He leans down to pet Tres instead of thinking about that. Lets Tres lick his face and slobber all over him. Pretends that's why dampness weighs down his lashes.

"I was just gonna take him home, get him settled in," Tommy says above him, after a few prolonged minutes of silence.

Buck get up, because he does know how to take a hint, sometimes. Time to get out of Tommy's hair, let him take home the dog he wants without the ex-boyfriend he didn't want. Doesn't meet Tommy's eyes as he turns to leave, because even he's got a limit for how pathetic he's willing to be in one day.

"Do you want to come with me?" Tommy says, the words uncharacteristically rushed.

Buck looks up with surprise. Tommy's got a hand rubbing against the back of his neck in a gesture Buck hasn't seen in ages.

"D-do you want me to?" Buck says. Tries not to feel like he's asking about more than just Tres. Fails. It's like they're having a whole second conversation--except they're not, because they haven't said more than maybe fifty words to each other and neither of them are actually saying it. So maybe it's all in Buck's head; maybe he's gotten so desperate that he's reading signs into innocent

Tommy's wide-eyed again, breathing a little fast and shallow. For a second, he looks almost panicked. Doesn't quite look at Buck as he reaches down to clip a leash onto Tres's collar, and lingers to pet down the line of Tres's spine with a huge hand.

When he stands back up, something in him has straightened. He's steady, looking Buck straight in the eyes as he nods firmly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I want you to come home with me." Glances down at his feet, where Tres is sitting patiently with his tongue rolling out. "You and me and Tres."

They're still not talking, not really. Not about the them of it all But it's the closest they've come since the helicopter--no, since before that. Since that morning, maybe.

It feels like an invitation. Like a closed door, reopened. Like a second, third, fifth chance at something.

Buck leans down to give Tres one last pat--for luck, for hope, for gratitude, for courage. He takes the hand Tommy opens to him. Him and Tommy and Tres. It feels like a good place to start.

[vitalverstappen]

Quietly Yours // a Flash Forward blurb

summary: navigating the paddock with a secret romance isn't easy. unfortunately, Charles can't keep a secret to save his life.

pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (Ferrari photographer, graffiti artist, childhood enemies), Charles Leclerc x platonic fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, swearing

a/n: i told you i'd be bringing back flash forward at some point. i've had this blurb in my drafts for a while, and now it's yours :) takes place during the 2024 season

word count: 2.3k

flash forward masterlist // main masterlist

You were honestly impressed at how well you and Max were able to keep your relationship hidden from the media. After Isabella constantly posting about her adventures with the Verstappens, you knew the second that Max asked you to be his girlfriend it was going to be under wraps for a while. 

Working for different teams, it was easy to ignore each other. While you were busy following Charles around like a lost puppy capturing content, Max would be elsewhere in the paddock, hopping between meetings and media. The only time you would truly be near each other was if both teams landed on the podium, which somehow only happened once between making it official and making it public. 

And even then, in the blazing sun of Austin, you had to be careful. The brief moments you shared, exchanging smiles from the track, felt like a lifetime, yet they always had to be subtle. A quiet nod here, a fleeting glance there, nothing too obvious. You both knew the importance of keeping your relationship under wraps, especially with the ever-watchful eyes of the media and the fans. 

Working for other teams though, made it difficult when you wanted to see each other. The logistics were a nightmare at times. You’d sneak away from your media obligations, pretending to run errands or look for Annalese, just to steal a few minutes of his company. Max, in turn, would have to duck out of a few meetings or pretend to be buried in his phone when he really just wanted to text you. But you both had a quiet understanding: the secrecy was temporary, just a small sacrifice. 

Of course, those close to you were aware of the blossoming romance. You had told both of your families, Isabella, and Annalese. It was a relief to have the support system, even if it just meant sharing your secret with just a select few. But no matter how much you two tried to hide it, someone was always watching. 

It wasn’t long before the whispers started. At first, it was just the occasional comment from Checo noticing your presence near Red Bull again. You knew he’d keep a secret, most of the drivers would. But there was one in particular that you were worried about finding out. 

Charles. 

You loved working with Charles, you really did. He kept the content interesting and the atmosphere light. Over the years, he had quickly become one of your close friends in the paddock, but you knew you could never share a secret with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. It was just that he was a blabber mouth.

Charles was one of those people who couldn’t hold onto a secret, even if his life depended on it. He was the first to share a funny story or revealing bit of gossip, and though you loved him for it, you knew this trait would be your undoing. The thought of him casually mentioning something about you and Max in front of the wrong person made your stomach churn. 

So, you and Max kept sneaking around. 

Nights spent tucked away in Max’s hotel room became a small escape from the pressure of the paddock. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was perfect. Takeout containers scattered across the coffee table, empty water bottles, and the soft glow of the TV screen provided the perfect backdrop to those fleeting moments of normalcy. There was no need to sneak glances or worry about being caught in public. 

Max had quickly become a pro at finding ways to keep the relationship low-key. He’d even gotten good at suggesting quiet activities that wouldn’t raise suspicion. Video games were an easy distraction, and it became a running joke between you both - Max laughing at your less-than-ideal skills behind the wheel of his sim. But you didn’t mind; it was a perfect enough excuse to be close to him. 

The Mexico Grand Prix marked almost a month of you and Max sneaking around, your relationship hidden under layers of secrecy. At first, it felt exhilarating - like a thrilling game of cat and mouse. But now, the weight of it all was starting to wear on you. Every time you worked with Charles, you felt the urge to be extra cautious, wondering if they’d catch on. 

Charles, however, was one of those people who noticed everything. He was incredibly observant, which was great for his career, but terrible for your dating life. You’d always been able to trust him, but now, more than ever, you knew there was a chance he’d see right through your facade. 

It started when Max began popping up near the Ferrari garages more frequently. At first, you tried to brush it off. He was friends with Charles after all, and they shared a lot of casual conversations. It wasn’t entirely out of place for Max to be around. But you couldn’t ignore the feeling in the pit of your stomach every time you saw Charles’ eyes flicker toward Max’s presence. He wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t one to miss small details. 

It was the Friday evening of the Mexico Grand Prix weekend when it finally happened. You and Charles were wrapping up a media session, and you had just sent a quick text to Max, asking if he wanted to grab dinner later. 

You knew you had to be careful, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Charles, ever the observant one, raised an eyebrow as he saw your phone light up. 

“You and Max, huh?” he said casually, pushing his sunglasses to sit on top of his head as the two of you headed toward the exit. 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You tried to keep your face neutral, but Charles wasn’t an easy person to fool.

“What?” you asked, your voice just a little too high pitched. “What do you mean?” 

Charles glanced at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re not exactly subtle,” he teased. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time near Red Bull recently… and I can’t help but notice how much time you’ve been texting or sneaking off. And then there’s the way you two look at each other. I’m not blind.” 

Your fingers ran through your hair as a defeated sigh left your lips. “Fine. Yeah, we’re together” you admitted, before your tone hardened and you stuck a finger at the Monegasque. “But, you cannot tell anyone. We’re keeping it private for a while. Away from the media.” 

While his eyes widened for a second before returning to normal size, Charles nodded. “I get it. You don’t need to explain. Your secret is safe with me.”

That claim lasted maybe 42 hours. 

Now, you couldn’t entirely blame him this time, the post race media scrum was always full of high emotions. You were in the back of the media pen, snapping photos of the Ferrari drivers and listening to them drone on about how the race could’ve gone better. You were half listening to Charles and Carlos as they talked about their performance in the race, nodding along politely while your mind wandered. 

You glanced over your shoulder, just for a moment, but it was enough. There, amidst the sea of reporters and photographers, you spotted Max making his way to the media pen. He was talking to a few media personnel, but your eyes locked for a brief second. It was a quiet moment, but it was yours - and it was so easy to forget about everything else when it was just the two of you in the world. 

You snapped back to reality as Max approached Charles, congratulating him on the podium. Clicks of your camera captured the conversation between the two of them, and that’s when you heard it. 

“Congrats on the relationship.” 

You froze for a second, your camera still raised in front of your face. Charles’ voice, casual and light, carried over the noise of the media pen. The words were simple, yet they hit like a sucker punch. 

Max’s face didn’t show much. His usual stoic expression settled back into place almost immediately, but you could see the slight tightening of his jaw. He was trying to keep it together, but Charles’ slip up had caught him off guard. 

You quickly adjusted your camera’s focus, snapping more photos of Charles and Max, hoping it would somehow mask the panic you were feeling. You’d already been on edge for days, wondering when it would happen, and now Charles had inadvertently dropped the bomb. 

Max thanked him, but his gaze flickered between Charles and you. Your stomach churned, your hands suddenly felt clammy. You couldn’t help but feel exposed, like everyone could hear the weight behind the comment, even if they didn’t understand its full meaning. 

Thankfully, you and Charles were flying to Brazil on AirMax, so there was plenty of time to yell at him for his slip up. You were the last one on board, tossing your bags onto an empty seat, but continued walking until you stopped in front of Charles. 

“What did I tell you?” you asked, crossing your arms and glaring at the Ferrari driver

Charles, who had been scrolling through his phone before you approached, went rigid at the sound of your voice. He looked up at you, a sheepish smile spreading across his face, already expecting an earful to come his way. 

“I didn’t mean any harm,” he said, voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. “It didn’t help that you two were practically eye-fucking when he walked into the media pen.” 

You raised an eyebrow, letting the tension build slightly as you stood in front of him. “That still doesn’t mean you can say that in front of the media!” you exclaimed

Max appeared from the back of the plane, presumably finishing loading his stuff on. He was a few steps behind you, and let out a soft exhale as he leaned against one of the seats. He didn’t need to step in - this was between you and Charles - but you could still feel his presence, like a calm buffer. Still, you couldn’t help but feel the strain of keeping this secret for so long, especially now that it seemed to be slipping out. 

Charles shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, but he was still wearing that sheepish grin. “I didn’t say anything too bad, did I?” he asked, clearly trying to deflect the heat. 

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. It. was hard when your heart was still racing from that moment in the media pen. “It’s not just about what you said,” you said, your tone still firm but a little less heated. “It’s about timing. You know how important it is for us to keep this private. The moment you say something like that, especially where you said it, makes it public, Charles.” 

“But no one asked about it, no?” he asked, his head tilting slightly 

You opened your mouth to answer, to say people did ask and that it all blew up in your face. But you couldn’t, because no one asked you. Everyone else went on with their day like it was nothing. 

Your eyes darted to Max for help, almost hoping that someone asked him about it to prove your point to Charles. But he looked as lost as you felt. You could see the gears turning in his head as he recalled his media duties. But there was no immediate savior in his gaze, no quick answer to make everything right. 

“I mean… I didn’t get asked anything about it,” he admitted, shrugging 

“Exactly,” Charles said, his sheepish grin turning more into a more relaxed smirk. “I fucked up, I know. But it definitely could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Yes, it could’ve,” you agreed. “And I’m glad it wasn’t. But you need to be a lot more careful with what you say and where you say it,” you continued, the firmness creeping back slightly into your voice. 

Charles looked at you, his expression softening. He could tell you weren’t just mad; you were genuinely worried. About him. About the situation. About everything. It was rare for you to let your guard down like this, but Charles was one of the few who could see right through it. 

“I know,” he said quietly, his playful tone gone. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to cause any harm.”

The air in the cabin felt a little less heavy after that, but there was still some lingering unease. You exchanged a glance with Max, and for the first time in a while, he seemed just as uncertain about how to move forward. Keeping your relationship a secret had always been a delicate dance, and Charles had almost just waltzed right into a landmine. 

You let out a long breath, trying to release some of the frustration that had been building. “Okay. I forgive you, but please, be careful next time,” you said, trying to sound more forgiving than you felt. “This is important to us. We’re doing this for a reason.” 

Charles nodded, “I promise, I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” 

You smiled a little, your frustration fading into something a bit more lighthearted. “Good,” you said, then turned to Max, offering him a small but genuine smile. “We’ve got enough to worry about without adding unnecessary drama.”

As the plane touched down in Brazil, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe keeping the relationship under wraps wouldn’t be as hard as it seemed.

But one thing was clear: your secret was no longer just between you and Max. It was shared, whispered among those who cared, and now it was just a matter of how long you could keep the world from finding out. 

[sluttysnowangel666]

Weeping Waters - cregan stark x reader

this story was inspired by this post!! i suggest you follow the op they were kind enough to let me write a story inspired by it❤️ @weirdiingwoman

summary: whilst on a trip for a tourney to celebrate queen rhaenyra’s succession to the throne, lord stark brings his child hood friend to keep him company. however a blistering hot day sends the northerner’s searching for relief from the sun. when they come across a hidden spot on the beach, cregan agrees to stand guard and keep watch so the lady can swim.

cw: au, no dance of dragons or war just cregan and his lady being secretly in love, smut as always, cregan is a SIMP for his lady just down historically bad for her , loss of virginity, fingering, friends to lovers, beach sex

masterlist

“Gods, when will it end?” You moan out, fanning yourself to no avail.

Cregan doesn’t acknowledge your relentless whining, only sighs in response. The heat was torture, that was for damn sure. He nearly begun to feel sick from the mix of the moist air and putrid smell of King’s Landing.

After living in Winterfell for so long, his nose had grown blind to the familiar scents of his home. But now, after being away for weeks to celebrate the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cregan had grown desperate to return to the smell of winter.

You groaned and whined and groaned some more, only adding to Cregan’s already heightened irritation.

“Cregannnn!” You whined, dragging your feet while your sweaty hands held up your dress so it wasn’t pummeled with whatever strange liquids manifested themselves on the ground.

“I don’t know what you wish me to do, my lady.” He responds, flatly, growing ever so annoyed with you. “Tis’ the last day of the tourney, and then we will be home shortly thereafter.”

“I am ill equipped for this place.” You say, looking at the long sleeves of your dress that were now damp with sweat.

You arrive to the tourney, walking through the red and black dragon decorated festival. Your arm is linked in Cregan’s as you both take the steps to the table of other high lords. Cregan had refused to participate in the tourney, but encouraged his men to. Today Cregan’s right hand man and your brother, Jon Manderly, would go up against the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Criston Cole. Your proximity with Cregan made those around you assume you were the Lady of Winterfell, and did not realize you were there representing House Manderly.

“Let’s hope our brother does not die today.” You mumble. Cregan smirks, but your words sting him slightly. Our brother. As if the three of you were siblings. He dared never admit it, but he was in love with you. In love with you how a Targaryen man was oft in love with their sister. He would give anything if it meant he could actually make you Lady of Winterfell. But he knew you did not love him the same, and although your father was desperate for Cregan to ask your hand he would never jeopardize the friendship he shared with you and your brother.

He glanced down at your lap, your hands folded properly between your thighs. Gods, what he wouldn’t give.

The day would be long, and your brother’s fight was the last joust of the day. Only then could you finally go home to your cold bliss. But until that time came, you all had to suffer the blazing fury of the sun.

You sipped on the sweet wine that had been brought to you by servants, twisting your features at the fruity taste. The flavor was that of one you were not used to, given the ale in the North was oft bitter and strong.

“This wine is disgusting.” You say to Cregan. He picks up his own cup, taking a quick swig before doing the same thing you did.

“I told you.” You laugh, pushing his strong arm.

“You weren’t jesting, my lady. That is a very unpleasant wine.”

“Well, maybe I have a surprise for you later.” She whispered.

Despite the heat, he shivered at her words and his stomach swirled with anticipation.

The day seemed to drag on. Although the morning had been hot, it was nothing compared to the sun at midday. None of the southerner’s seemed fazed, but you and Cregan were drenched head to toe in sweat. It looked as if you had both bathed, that was how wet your hair was. Your sweat had seeped through your dress in every crevice. It was so hot in fact, you and Cregan were both panting like overworked dogs and now suddenly that sweet wine was a delicious and cool reprieve from the heat.

“Cregan, please can we sneak out of here?” She asks.

“And go where?”

“I don’t care! Just somewhere cool. There’s got to be some sort of water near here that isn’t filled with gods know what.”

He knew he should’ve stayed, but you had that pleading look in your eye and gods was it hot. He was growing so delirious from the heat that he would do anything you asked of him.

You both mumbled a quiet excuse to the other lords at the table, saying you were off to pray or something. The lords gave you both confused looks, but you were already off.

You ran holding your dress in your hands so you didn’t trip over the skirts, and you giggled as Cregan was close behind, also giggling at your escapade. The breeze from your running felt cool against your wet skin.

Cregan grabbed your arm and you laughed as you lost your balance and fell. You both screamed and laughed as you tripped over each other, rolling on the grass.

“You’ve stained my dress!” You yelled, laughing.

“Why don’t you take it off then?” Cregan says. The words come out before he can stop them, and his hand flies to his mouth in shock at his own words. His cheeks grow even more red than they were before.

You laugh, giving his arm a push. “Cheeky today, aren’t we?”

You both stand, walking now past the gardens. “Do you know where you’re going?” You ask.

“My father brought me to King’s Landing when I was younger. I got lost and found this beach beyond the gardens.” Cregan says.

You both walk down the stairs to a stone building, making your way through the dark, abandoned halls to reach the other side.

The sand on the ground felt grainy and satisfying under your boots, and you quickly pulled them off to sink your toes in the sand. The area Cregan had brought you to was slightly secluded, but could easily be found by accident by someone wandering by.

“I’ll keep watch.” He says, turning to face the direction you came as you shuffle out of your dress.

“Keep watch.” You mumble, displeased he won’t be joining you. Cregan doesn’t hear you leave initially, but he hears your groans of relief when you step foot in the cold ocean.

“The water is so lovely!” You yell to him. He looks down, shaking his head. He wanted to join you so badly, to cool off in the ocean while he held you close to him. The sun was beating down on his brown hair, soaking his head with sweat. He began to grow frustrated with the heat, and the thoughts of you naked in the ocean weren’t helping to cool him off.

But he’d rather face the heat of a thousand burning suns before he let someone see you bare. You were his, and he’d allow himself to pass out from the heat before he moved from his spot. He told himself that, swore it in fact. You would not tempt him with your siren song into that ocean.

“Careful you don’t burn, my lady.” Cregan yells.

“What was that?” You call. “I didn’t hear you. Perhaps you should join me.”

He smirks, tapping his foot impatiently against the sand. He breathes in the salty smell of the ocean, such a sweet reprieve from the foulness that lingered even in the Red Keep.

“Cregan!” You yell jokingly angry. “Come in right now before you melt!”

He laughs, and you walk towards him from the shore. He doesn’t hear you over the sound of the waves crashing.

He jumps a bit when he feels your hand touch his shoulder. You tug on it to try and turn him around, but he stands firm.

“Cregan.” You whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Cregannnn.” You sing. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t move, so you walk around his body to face him. He closes his eyes, his heart racing with fear.

“My lady.” Cregan says with caution, eyes still closed.

“I-“ Your sentence is cut off by loud, rambunctious yelling.

Cregan’s eyes snap open, immediately grabbing you to drag you back to the water. His gaze avoids your body as much as possible, but he still can see your curves in his peripheral.

He walks in with you, ignoring his now wet clothes and pushing you until the water is at your waist.

“Sit.” He says, pushing your shoulders down so you’re on your knees, the water stopping at your collar bone. “Do not move.”

He walks back to shore just as the men reach the beach.

“My lords, this area is off limits.” Cregan says to the group of three men.

“Says who?” A short and stocky man drunkenly yells.

“Me.” Cregan says, his voice stern. One of the taller men peaks a glance around him, locking his eyes onto yours. Cregan notices and immediately shifts so the man is face to face with Cregan instead.

“Are you men of salt and sea?” Cregan asks them.

“No… We represent House Clegane; We’ll be facing some Northern cunt.” The tall guy spits on the ground and his minions laugh. The men continue to avert their gaze to you, with nasty smirks filling their faces.

“I see. Then, my lords, let me tell you as Warden of the North I suggest… No… command you turn and go back to the tourney.”

“And if we don’t?” The tall one speaks again, challenging Cregan.

“Then since you wish to stay so badly I will drown you in the ocean… and make you men of salt and sea.”

The men shuffle uncomfortably, looking to their tall leader. He avoids Cregan’s eyes, looking around and deciding if a fight is worth it. Your heart beats unusually fast in your chest, afraid of what fight may come.

You had never seen Cregan so… dominate and protective. He was like a wolf defending its pups. You had seen him assertive in the training yard, frustrated, angry… but this was different. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. He was ice normally, but right now he felt like fire… even from far away.

A shiver ran up your body, yet you felt… hot in your stomach. Your chest fluttered, and you were afraid at the beast in your vision right now. Yet, he was igniting his own kind of fire in you, a heat that burned between your legs. Your hands nervously clawed and gripped at your thighs. You licked the salty water off your lips, nearly drooling at Cregan.

The men finally backed down, turning and leaving the way they had came. Cregan turned and looked at you, shaking his head. He did that a lot.

The way he protected you was so hot. You wanted to make it up to him.

He walked to the shoreline, the remnants of waves splashing his boots. He didn’t take his eyes off yours once.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice gentle with you. You nodded.

“Cregan…” You said. “I need you in the most unimaginable way possible right now.”

“Fuck.” He whispered, too quiet for you to hear. Did he dare cross this line? If he did, there was surely no returning.

Right when he decided against it, not wanting to strain your life long friendship, you stood up.

All logic, at that moment ceased to exist,

and he immediately stripped off his clothes.

Before he could even fully undress, you pounced on him. You yanked him in the water with his small clothes still on and slammed your lips on his.

“Thank you for protecting me.” You whispered. He kissed you with even more force after that, no longer able to contain himself. He felt such a strong urge in him to protect you, love you, hold you, breed you. He was possessed by your beauty and grace, and found himself getting lost in your lusciously sweet lips.

He held you tight against him, his length poking into your thighs. You rubbed him through his small clothes, eliciting a groan from him. Although the water was cooling him off, he found himself sweating with nervousness.

“Make me yours.” You whisper. His fingers greedily dig into your hips as he kisses you more deeply, tongues and teeth clashing. He claims your mouth with his, fighting to prove himself strong enough for you.

He tried to hide it, but he was deeply afraid. Cregan had never been with a woman intimately, and he did not want to let down the girl he loved since he was a child.

“Marry me.” He whispers. “Give me your hand. Be the Lady of Winterfell.”

You pull away from him, staring at him to search his eyes for any sign of a jest. But all you see are his gray eyes, staring back at you with a mixture of lust and love and hope.

When he saw the look of shock in your eyes, he immediately regretted his words. He had pushed too far and turned you off. He was convinced you had gotten lost in the madness of lust, and were only now realizing the consequences of your actions.

“Are… Are you serious?” You ask.

He nods, sadly. He couldn’t back down, he needed to say he tried.

“But, I’m just a Manderly. You could marry a Targaryen or Hightower if you wanted… Why me?”

“Because I love you, endlessly.” He says, “All those moments, all those memories… You’ve made me who I am. I’m not me without you.” and it was true. Every glance he stole, every time you fought, hunted, played, argued… It all led him to here. He knew there was a purpose for you both. He always felt it in his soul, he just hadn’t known what it meant until now.

Now he knew it meant your fates were sealed long ago.

“Lady Stark,” You say, playing with Cregan’s chest. “rolls off the tongue quite nicely.”

He pulls you back onto his lips, a tear escaping his eye at the joy he felt. You were his, and you always would be.

Gods be damned, honor be damned. I want her now.

He picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His hand supported your bottom as he carried you all the way back to the sand. You kissed his neck, cradling it between your hands.

Cregan set you down on his discarded clothes, flattening out the cloak so sand wouldn’t ruin your endeavor.

Cregan’s fingers smoothed over your cunt and you gasped. He pushed one inside and you found yourself gripping his bicep for support, the other hand resting on the back of his neck. You closed your eyes, moaning softly. He inserts another, stretching you to prepare you as best as possible. You moan his name, begging for the rest of him.

“Please, please, take me.” You pleaded. He was hesitant, as badly as he wanted it.

He decided he would be angry with himself later. For now, for the first time in Westeros history, a Stark forgot about honor.

He pulled his fingers out, rubbing himself with the lingering wetness from your cunt. He pushed off the last of his small clothes and positioned his length against you.

You finally felt slightly nervous when his length touched you. Cregan was a big man of course, surely you should have known that would’ve applied to other parts.

And yet it had slipped your mind, so now here you were mentally unprepared and growing nervous at his size about to take your maidenhead.

“Were other women you’ve been with intimidated by your size?” You ask, a tremble in your voice.

“What?” He asks.

“What?” You repeat.

“I’ve never been with other women.” He shakes his head.

“What?” You say again, surprise in your voice this time.

“You will be my first.” He says. “Am I yours?”

You nod.

“Then I will take care of you.” He says. You press your shaky lips to his, and his hand gently holds your cheek to comfort you.

He slides into you, slowly, holding you close to him to keep you from wiggling. You whine into his lips, a small sob parting you.

“You’re okay.” He whispers. “I’ve got you. We will go easy, my girl.”

You nestle your face into his neck, holding on to him with a death grip.

He makes love to you slow at first, waiting for your tight cunt to adjust to him.

“Gods, please move.” You beg,

He immediately does as you command, fucking you with lust in his hips but love in his heart. You stare at him, admiring every feature on his face as he fucks you. His lips are parted, gasping softly, and his piercing gray eyes are focused only on your face. His wet brown locks fall beside his face, and you push it back with your fingers so they don’t hinder his vision. Your other hand leaves trails of red scratches down his chest, which only fuels on his hunger to make you writhe and wiggle more beneath him.

“Right there, Cregan. Oh, fuck, please. Please, my lord.” You moan. Cregan nearly melts at your lascivious begging.

He continues his harsh thrusts on your cunt, blood drips down his chest from the ferocity of your nails. He hardly even notices the burning pain, he’s too busy drowning in the heat between your legs.

You pull his lips onto yours, whining and moaning into his mouth as you hit your peak. Cregan groans as you tighten around him, and he plants his hand into the sand beside your head.

He wanted to pull out, he really did. But the way your cunt tightened around him, the way you pulled him into you so you could moan into his lips, the way your body trembled as you peaked… it was too much to handle. He spilled his seed into you, and by how much he spilled surely you would be pregnant with an heir if he did not get you moon tea on the morrow.

For now, he just wanted you. He wanted to wed you the moment you arrived back home. Your father would definitely be doing cartwheels when he heard the news, your brother would likely be happy as well.

There was time in their future for an heir, but all he could think about right now was how hard it was gonna be to restrain himself with you as his betrothed now.

“Our little secret?” You asked, referring to your engagement on the beach.

“Our little secret.” He said, pecking a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

You both rinsed off in the ocean, dressing back in your clothes and returning to the tourney just in time to see your brother win against House Clegane.

But unfortunately, he had celebrated too early following his win against House Clegane, because he had gotten too drunk and lost only an hour later to Criston Cole.

“50 gold dragons.” He drunkenly scoffed.

“Better than none, brother.” You said, trying to comfort his first place loss. You looked to Cregan for help, but he was lost in his own world thinking about the beach.

“Something trouble you, Cregan?” You ask.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” He says, discretely brushing his hand against yours.

You blush, and the three of you silently make your way back to the great hall inside the Red Keep for the final feast of the tourney.

“I offer my congratulations to the winners, including my sworn protector Criston Cole and the second place winner Jon Manderly. I also offer my thanks to all the lords and ladies who have travelled from as far as Dorne to Winterfell. This will be a tournament for the books.” Queen Rhaenyra announces, sitting beside her council members including Alicent, Rhaenys, her son Jacaerys, Criston Cole, and her husband Daemon. “I would also like to announce a new marriage betrothal, brought to me by Cregan Stark!”

You and your brother turn to Cregan, who avoids your eyes yet smirks. “Cregan Stark has announced he will wed Lady Manderly, sister of the second place winner Jon Manderly, to celebrate Winterfell’s second place victory!”

The hall erupts in noise as people flood around you with their congratulations. You look at your brother, whose jaw is hanging to the floor.

“I suppose this truly makes us brothers now, aye Cregan?” Your brother says when he finally speaks, his northern accent appearing thicker than usual.

“Aye.” Cregan nods.

Your brother’s shock dissipates, and he finally shares his joy with you. He punches your arms, just like when you had been younger.

“Ow, brother! You forget yourself!” You say, smacking his arms.

“Sorry, sister. This moment is so joyous. Father might have a heart attack when he hears.”

You give your brother a gentle, appreciative smile, grateful for his approval as he takes your hand in his.

“Lady Manderly and Lord Stark, while your marriage will not take place here we will celebrate in your absence. King’s Landing is forever indebted to the hospitality and strength continuously provided by the Starks.” The Queen says, raising her glass to you and Cregan.

Those around you celebrated and drank, relishing in the most joyous of occasions. Queen Rhaenyra successfully ascended the throne, the tournament had been historic, Winterfell had emerged near victorious, the Stark bloodline would soon carry on.

“It is unfortunate we cannot get drunk on this piss wine.” Cregan says, playing with his cup.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier I had a surprise for you, my betrothed?” You say, lifting your dress to reveal a little metallic flask tied to your leg. He looks at you, raising his eyebrow and smirking.

“Shall we retire for the night?” He asks.

You take his hand and the both of you slip out the door, in search of another place to “cool off.”

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Grim - Blazing Jewel Vignette

"We'll cheer the loudest"

[Sewing Room]

Grim: This is where they're making the outfits for that Blazing Jewel music performance thing, right?

Grim: Crowley said the staff had to go to a meeting, so he's asked us to get everyone's measurements…

Grim: But no one's here, even though it's time for them to show up. They're all late!

???: Urgh… Nnnn…

Grim: Hm? Did you just say something?

1. Nope, nothing. 2. Wasn't that you?

???: Hhhhhhnnnng…!

[Lilia drags Idia in]

Idia: I don't wanna! There's too many people! I wanna go back to my room!

Lilia: You've already come all the way here, steel yourself, already. C'mon everyone, into the room, let's go.

Rook: Why, hello there, Trickster. And you as well, Monsieur Furball. Did we keep you waiting?

Cater: I know they said for all the juniors to come at this time to get measured for the upcoming performance…

Trey: But no matter how long we waited, we couldn't get the full party together. We had to go out searching for the guys who didn't show up.

Malleus: I received no notification of any measurements that were to take place.

Vil: That's just because you didn't see the message sent to your phone.

Leona: Ugh, this is more than a pain… We're here already, so let's get it over with.

Lilia: No need to rush! I know I can't wait to see all our matching outfits. I've been excited ever since I saw the designs drawn out.

Cater: Riiiight～? I bet we'd be a huge hit just standing around ♪ I bet we'd even hit the trending posts on Magicam!

Rook: Aaah, yes… To see every one shine brightly like a jewel under the bright lights… Just imagining it is beauté!

[chatter, chatter]

Grim: Hrrnn…

Grim: Hrrnnnngggh…!

1. What's wrong? 2. Oh, that look means…

Leona: Hey, now. Don't tell me this furball's jealous of us now, right?

Grim: I'M SO JEALOUS, YEAH!!!

Trey: That was surprisingly honest of you. …But actually, we thought you'd say that.

Grim: Huh?

Malleus: Here is a gift from us to both Grim and [Yuu].

Grim: Eh? Huh…Huh!?

Grim: MY OUTFIT'S SO COOL!!

1. Awesome! 2. We're matching!

Grim: HEY, YOU GOT CHANGED TOO!! You're second coolest-looking, next to me.

Grim: Hm? Hey, this outfit looks exactly like what they're wearing during the Blazing Jewel thing.

Idia: Wh-When we heard about the performance, it came up… That Grim-shi'd probably be jealous… Heh.

Lilia: So, we ended up deciding to give you two the Blazing Jewel outfits as a gift.

Trey: Crewel-sensei had a hand in making these, so it's not like they're magic that'll fade after a while. Don't worry.

Vil: I'll tell you this; a performance isn't just wearing fancy outfits and standing on a stage. A costume does not make or break anything.

Vil: …Having said that, we did think you deserved an appropriate reward for everything. Plus, it would be troublesome if Grim were to throw a tantrum.

Cater: Both of you look way better than I imagined! So cute～!

Leona: Hah, let's see if their insides match the outsides. You better be just as bright and energetic as the clothes you're wearing.

Grim: Myahaha! I'm so happy to get these cool clothes!

Grim: Isn't this great?

1. Thank you so much! 2. I can't wait for the performance!

Malleus: Yes, of course. I am elated you are pleased with this, more than anything. It means it was worth our preparation.

Grim: …Now that I think of it, how'd you get the right sizes for us? I don't remember getting measured, but it fits perfectly.

Rook: Oh, yes! I provided them both of your measurements down to the first decimal. No need to fret.

Grim: H-How'd you know that!? That's creepy…!

Everyone: Hahahah.

Idia: …Eh? If that's all that was needed to be done, I didn't need to come here, right!?

[Sewing Room]

Grim: La-dee-dum～

1. You're in a good mood.

Grim: Myahaha! It's awesome that we get to wear these awesome clothes.

2. La-la-dee～

Grim: Myaha! Looks like you're just as happy to be wearing these awesome clothes.

Grim: I wanna show these off to everyone! I hope someone shows up soon.

[door slams open]

Floyd: 'Scuuuuse me!

Riddle: Why are you kicking open a door that is not even unlocked!? You lack even the most common sensibilities!

Grim: Th-The sudden noises scared the stuffing outta me… Hey, you should just come in like a normal person!

Jade: It seems Floyd is causing trou… Oh? Why, the two of you look absolutely dazzling.

1. Thank you. 2. Don't be silly…

Ruggie: Are all those shining things real gemstones? What are they? From where? How many carats? Wait, do I get some too!?

Kalim: That's the Blazing Jewel outfit, right? It's pretty… But don't you think it'd be even flashier if we deck it out with even more gems!?

Silver: Kalim, we cannot do that.

Silver: If the clothes are weighed down, it would affect our dancing.

Jamil: That's not the main issue here… And now Kalim's looking like that was the perfect explanation…

Azul: These outfits are property of our esteemed academy. I would recommend returning it in the same condition you received it, without adding nor removing any decorations.

Floyd: Ahahah, both Shrimpy-chan and Seal-chan look like penguins in that getup. It's a nice change from usual.

Grim: Myaha, right? The juniors made 'em for us!

Kalim: We're gonna get our measurements now, and get to wear those same outfits during the performance, right? I'm super excited to be matching with everyone!

Ruggie: But, y'know… Grim-kun, can ya even take our measurements?

Jamil: Haha, true! Will you be able to measure our shoulder width with those little paws of yours?

Grim: Don't make fun with me! It'll be easy for me to do.

Grim: I just gotta made this measuring tape float with magic, just like Hornton and the others did earlier…

Grim: Myah!? I-It's not moving… Why's it not moving!?

Grim: But they were able to keep it moving so easily before!

Jade: Perhaps it has to do with a difference in ability. What a shame, Grim-kun. Oh, you poor thing.

Grim: Eeeeehhhh!

Riddle: Goodness… There's no need to tease him so. Grim, calm down and imagine the clothes you want to make.

Jamil: That's right. As long as you can picture what outfit you need to make, the measuring tape should move to where it needs to to get the measurements.

Azul: You have [Yuu]-san right in front of you to provide you with an example of the outfit, as well. Look at them, and try again.

Grim: Hrrrgh… That's still hard!

Ruggie: It's lookin' like it'll be quicker if [Yuu]-kun'd measure us by hand. Here, take the tape. Let's get this done with already.

Grim: What!? Then let's have a race to see who's faster, me with my magic, or my lil' hench-human with their hands!

Floyd: Mmkay, then I guess I'll play the guy who gets in both of your ways～ It ain't exciting otherwise, right?

1. This'll be rough… 2. Can I even win…?

Silver: I'll help you, [Yuu]. You've always helped me when I've needed it.

Riddle: Then, I shall help Grim with his magic. Now then, everyone line up!

Kalim: 'Kaaay. Come on, Azul, line up with us!

Azul: No, thank you, I will measure myself, so… Wah, don't push me!

[Jade pushes Azul]

Jade: Come now! We have no time to dally. Kalim-san, I hope you don't mind us squeezing in next to you.

Grim: Picture the outfit, picture the outfit… Okay, let's go! Myaaaah!

[Sewing Room]

Ace: Hey, hey, the measuring tape is a little too slack. There's nooo way you're getting the right measurements, are you?

Grim: Stop whining! If you got a problem with it, do it yourself!

Deuce: Ouch, who just threw that measuring tape!? Oh, no… Now I've forgotten the numbers I was going to write down…!

Ortho: What an unproductive fight. How do they not tire of it when they get nothing out of something so useless?

1. I'm already used to it. 2. It's definitely something to wonder about.

Jack: Well, anyway, I know I was surprised when we walked into the sewing room and saw [Yuu] and Grim in that sharp outfit.

Grim: Yeah! Doesn't this awesome get-up totally stun ya?

Epel: Yep. The design's pretty cool, and the jewels on it are so sparkly. You guys look rad!

Sebek: Could you have possibly expressed your thoughts any less elegantly? It is a dignified attire. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that it will suit my liege well!

Ace: There goes the Draconian again… Anyway, even if we get these outfits done, that's not all there is, right? How's everyone's performance practice going?

Epel: Hehe… I'm glad you asked. Obviously, Pomefiore is absolutely ready to go.

Deuce: Pomefiore might be a tough opponent, but we're no slackers ourselves. Our song's real awesome, especially with all our voices combined!

Sebek: Hah, I doubt it is anything worthwhile. You shall all kneel before our singing, led by Malleus-sama himself!

Ortho: Haha, you're so funny. I don't think you'll be able to keep saying that once you see me and my brother's full combo.

Jack: If we're talking teamwork, then we'd be the number one contender. We'll show you all with our perfectly in-sync dancing.

Grim: Everyone's all confident in themselves, but I really don't know if they're really ready…

Grim: We gotta supervise them good, [Yuu]!

1. We got this! 2. Let's do our best!

Ace: Ey, you guys look raring to go. Just try and keep that up for the actual Blazing Jewel performance, 'kay?

Epel: You'll be cheering on Pomefiore, right? I'm counting on you!

Sebek: Absolutely not. You should give your loudest cheers for Diasomnia. You understand, right, human!?

1. Which to pick…? 2. Hard to choose…

Grim: Yeah, you're right.

Grim: I can't figure out who to pick, so we'll cheer the loudest for whoever gives me the most tuna cans. Myaha!

Jack: Don't be trying to make a deal out of this. Be fair about it.

Ortho: Heheh. I'm really excited for the performance, yeah… But I also like preparing for it with everyone like this.

Deuce: Yeah. After working so hard and so long to get ready for the performance with everyone in the dorms, it feels like the big show'll be here any day now.

Grim: Whew, it's finally done. They were all sooo noisy.

1. That was fun.

Grim: You might've been havin' fun, but everyone kept buggin' me, so I'm pooped! Grim: If this ever happens again, I'm gonna use my magic even more to shut them all up.

2. I'm so tired…

Grim: I get it. It was all "measure this" and "measure that"… Grim: "This should be bigger", or "I want this smaller than everyone else." I'm so tired by all their little changes.

Grim: …Ah! We don't got time to hang around like this. We gotta go report to Crowley pronto.

Grim: We're so busy with all the stuff we gotta do before Blazing Jewel begins…

Grim: And even after the performance ends, there's still gonna be so much for us to do!

Grim: Let's keep doing our best, hench-human!   

Requested by @farfalla049.

[maddragon15]

Obscenely late hermitaday day #23 & 25! - Impulse & Tango

Was this meant to be a simple cel shaded drawing on the 30th? Yeah, yeah it was lmao but somehow the power of fire excels at overtaking the rendering capabilities.

But since it's late I'll use this as excuse to ramble below about well, the headcanons and the process down yonder. Also there's variations.

(Also just realized that the compression is high with this one, please click on it to see the details pretty pleasee)

So! Let's talk about that haircut shall we? First off Tango's haircut is basically just me slapping my very neglected oc's haircut onto him lol. There's no function usage or any other lore about it, literally just I wanted to use that haircut more. But Miners and Crafters that's not all! The intensity of the flame actually has meaning believe it or not.

Since Tango in the headcanons is already a nether born blaze hybrid the redstone kinda didn't have an effect on him. This is because blazes produce glowstone which is a power source onto itself. He gets minor effects instead which is a mild (there's literally no other word) high, a intensified hair flame and a brighter eye night shine. Negative effects include mild joint & jaw pain, and a small localized headache behind the left eye.

I like to imagine that other blaze hybrids' hair flame aren't normally that intense, not white-hot heat but rather more red n orange hot similar to the flats. Mainly due to the fact that glowstone is not as powerful as redstone and it's also dependent on how strong a blaze is. Now imagine with me that blazes determine how strong each other are via the color they're emitting. Now remember the blaze boss Minecraft had a vote on to add or not to add? What if Tango is constantly mistaken as a high ranking blaze because of how intense his fire is and he doesn't get attacked a whole lot except for the few that want to challenge him. Meanwhile Tango is just highly infused with redstone like all the other redstoners and he doesn't know what's happening half time as seen by his terrified scream-laughs /hj

He's also semi modified with redstone for the pure purpose of comms just like the other redstoners minus mumbo. I also would've leaned into the steampunk aspect of this season but I figured I'd do a character sheet like etho for all of the redstoners and finalize the aspects on those.

Onto Impulse!

I like to imagine that Impulse was a regular human and over the course of redstone exposure he gained pointed ears and horns. For what reasons? I have no idea but redstone works in mysterious ways and mutates on whatever happens to be in their system. You may see that he has purple lines across his face but then red pupils, why is that? Well since he's cyperpunk themed this season he modified his redstone implants to be rgb. He can change everything else except his pupils because those are deeply affected by redstone and would require surgery to remove the build up of redstone. Will any of the redstoners ever actually get rid of it? No but you can beg all day.

You also might be wondering what's happening in their ears? Well those are the advanced comms that are actually used across all hermits except the ones who've opted out for glowstone variants. They kinda work like bluetooth except more hermit-magic way. I haven't had time to fully think of how it'd work down to the circuitry (that's my usual process for headcanons before I ship them out) but I'll post about it when I think of the full layout. Other design aspects on impulse are derived from his skin and the poster design by applestruda!

Process wise for this piece was kinda a rollercoaster heh. I had started this piece a while ago (can't remember the day on the dot) and then I got insanely busy during the last week of hermitaday. I had done sketch, refined sketch and flats in two days. Then events proceeded forth and we arrive on the 4th which I tried for an entire day to figure out how to render this piece. I then gave up and tried again the day after and pulled up references this round on Pinterest. Tango was surprisingly easy to paint with ref and went rather fast. I will admit the entire time I was rendering him I did say every minute or so "I love you man" because he was turning out so good. Halfway through I then realized I still had to render Impulse. That's when I pretty much ended that night because it was already 5 am working on Tango and demotivation was setting in fast. The next day I was able to continue with hesitancy on Impulse but I managed to keep on keeping on and in the early hours of today I finished up the piece. Where I'm now writing about it close to 2 pm in a restaurant. Man though it was kinda hard to make Impulse and Tango look like cohesive and as if they were painted together.

Enjoy!

(Side note I applied for inprint and if I am to be accepted this will be available along side the three different eefs I've drawn and doc.)

[thus-spoke-lo]

i know i haven't posted about it in a minute but Sanji has such yandere potential, to me. he won't hurt you--no, he could never, wouldn't dream of laying a finger on you, except maybe accidentally, but he didn't mean it and would prostrate himself at your feet over it for days on end.

but what he will do is coo over you, coddle you, lock you away in a room to keep you safe and all to himself. you'll be well-fed once you learn to trust that the food isn't poisoned and the drinks aren't laced with things meant to make you drowsy. he learns every allergy, every preference, every ailment you suffer, all to create the most exquisite menu catered to you and only you--a menu as unique as his precious angel that he keeps secreted away.

and behind that barricaded door, where time becomes a much looser construct as days and nights pass, no man will ever again lay eyes on you and sully you with lustful stares. never mind, of course, the way Sanji's heart thrums so loud you can almost hear it from the other side of the room when he gazes upon you every morning. and never mind the way he licks his lips and his eyes blaze with a hunger so insatiable. no, his love is pure, his love is good, his love comes from some deeper and more pristine place.

[glitch-but-ya]

You write fanfiction— The LADs men

A/N: Just a filler post. It’s kinda annoying to work on two fics where both readers have vastly different personalities. I keep mixing them up so I just gave up and stuck to working on the Caleb fic first. But, good news is, the fic is almost done! I’m at the last act :3

Xavier:

Your work is one of the few pieces of writing he doesn’t fall asleep while reading.

No matter how sleepy he was prior to this, he would be wide awake, pondering each poetic sentence and dissecting meanings behind them.

Would pay attention to every little detail hidden in your work, even when it’s something most overlook.

Asks you about your recent fanfics when he sees you.

If you write smut, he probably eats it up like a freak and tries to pick up on the things you desire.

Your biggest fan. Has a dedicated account (main or alt) to just liking and reblogging your work. Whatever you post. Even if it’s just a casual post or answering a fan’s questions.

Probably compliments your work in the tags.

Has multiple accounts just to like your work. Also has a secret account where he argues tooth and nail with every hater you encounter.

Bonus: Would secretly be jealous of the characters you admire a bit too much.

Rafayel:

The proudest man on earth.

Literally. He considers writing (even trivial things like fanfiction) a form of art so he is genuinely so happy you’re an artist like him.

Would bombard you with random new fanfiction ideas.

If you write for a new fandom, he would search it up and watch/read it the same day.

If you include poetic things into your writing, he would bring it up in a conversation and hold discussions on it, offering his thoughts and opinions and helping you both learn.

Would be more chill than Xavier, but he’d definitely be pouty if you favour a character too much.

Leaves dramatic comments. Like, “HOW DARE HE >:O” and such. His comments never fail to hype you up.

PUBLICLY argues with your haters.

Treasures your work as if it was the finest piece of literature ever penned. Wouldn’t be surprised if he rewrites it on a canvas with ink and frames it on his wall.

Bonus: Secretly is the one making 90% of the requests. And usually it’s those vulgar, insane ones. He’s just a girl 🎀

Zayne:

Subtle about his adoration. Would silently like every single one of your posts, but he wouldn’t really comment or reblog them.

With that being said, he will never forget to compliment your work when he sees you, though.

Would analyze every letter and syllable to the point where he can somehow decipher how or what you were feeling or thinking from your writing alone.

He would never admit it, though. He’d only silently know and if he thinks you need a hug, he will try and be there for you more often.

On top of compliments, he provides you with genuine constructive criticism without overwhelming you or making you feel insecure about your work.

But he’s not too good with parts of the writing that include emotions. I imagine it to go somewhat like… “But the phrasing is a little confusing. Could you explain the reasoning behind it?” “It’s for emotional depth, Zayne…” “Ah… I see.”

Don’t be mistaken!! Even though he is scare with his compliments, he doesn’t admire your work any less than the other LIs!

Believes that a person’s art is a reflection of their self, so he tries to see you in your work.

Sylus:

Like all, he is the biggest fan of your work.

Probably has a thousand secret accounts he uses to like and reblog your posts.

Spends alot of money (which is, of course, insignificant to him) blazing your posts and promoting them.

But, if you prefer a quieter fanbase, he would respect that as well.

Nonetheless, expect him to like your work on all his accounts the moment it’s released.

Suddenly you’re wondering how your post garnered 1000 likes in the first hour.

If you’re writing a series, he would ask you when the next chapter is coming out.

You won’t have a single hater as long as Sylus is around. If anyone does so much as dare to comment a single vulgar word aimed towards you or your work, they get a message in their inbox listing their address and personal info.

And then, the next day, their comment is gone. You wonder what could’ve happened.

Like Zayne, he’d give you his advice and some constructive criticism whilst somehow uplifting your work at the same time when asked.

If you include any philosophies in your work, he’d bring it up and discuss it with you. He loves hearing your thoughts, whether it be complex or casual.

Memorises the quotes he likes from your fanfics and actively uses them irl.

Your work would probably be the first and only one to elicit an emotional reaction from him.

If you have any dreams as an author, he would definitely offer to find you a publisher and pay for all costs. He just wants to see you fulfil your dreams, even if you’d abandoned them.

Caleb:

A LOUD fan of your work.

Probably sends it to all his friends (poor Gideon) and boasts about how his partner is such a talented writer.

Reblogs with captions and tags, comments on, and likes each one of your work.

Like Rafayel, his comments are dramatic and encouraging. He doesn’t just compliment your work. He SHOWS that he’s read it.

Avid, shameless smut reader. Would EAT those fics up. Especially if they were penned by you.

Probably sends those to his friends too (poor Gideon).

Blazes each of your posts. Even the stupid ones. Manages to increase your fanbase by a bunch. The month you revealed your acc to him, you suddenly gained a hundred new followers.

If you want a smaller fanbase, he’d be content with that as well. He loves the idea of being one of the few people to read such a masterpiece.

Definitely knew about your acc even before you revealed it to him. If you had previous accounts growing up on either tumblr or AO3, he’d be secretly reading your work via an alt account.

Don’t ask how he found your acc.

Would definitely engrave all the things you want in a partner into his brain and work on them secretly.

Probably has a diary dedicated to analyzing and complimenting your work.