#IT MUST BE A LIFE COME FULL CIRCLE MOMENT

[zingaplanet]

Please stop. No, please continue. I'm trying to find my own ground as a Federer fan (since 2001) and Fedal fan (since 2006). "Fedal" was such a niche thing back then, mostly contained to LiveJournal forums (and the occasional thread on Menstennisforums.com), and not the mainstream phenomenon that it is now. We (the early "Fedals") were like phantoms, hiding in plain sight, because their rivalry was still so intense, and the infighting between their respective fan camps was equally so. I always felt they had something special, but I never thought they'd arrive at what they currently have (especially after their Player Union fallout). Thank you for channeling my emotions 👍

OOFF TOOT THE HORN 🎺🎺 WE HAVE OURSELVES AN OG FEDAL VETERAN HERE!!

I remember the early days infighting tho, there really were some tough times in their relationship, it wasn't always love and roses, but i think they grew up from it together. And if i'm not wrong, rafa and roger actually decided to REJOIN the council later on and stated that they would only do that if the other joined as well right? (Correct me if i'm wrong this was some years ago i think)

All in all, how does it feel, your majesty, to witness your OTP not only winning but riding off into the sunset together HAND IN HAND? (not even being metaphorical here lol)

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[parkerslatte]

Overlooked | Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none.

Summary: Y/N, the eldest Archeron sister, and while the Inner Circle are invited to the Autumn Court by Eris, the new High Lord, Y/N and Eris meet for the first time and the bond snaps.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Epilogue

•••

Y/N Archeron was always overlooked. Her whole life she would always be looked over in favour of her younger sisters. Of course when Y/N was human, she learnt to live with it. She did what she could to try and support her family, picking up as many jobs as she could. The only one who ever thanked her was Feyre. 

Once Y/N was made into fae and her entire life was flipped upside down, she felt more overlooked than she had in her whole life. Feyre had Rhys. Nesta had Cassian. Elain had Lucien and Azriel. Y/N had no one. Of course Mor took it upon herself to bring her along to Rita’s every time she went. Occasionally Y/N would go home with someone but in recent months, she preferred to be alone. 

Now as she sat alone in her apartment, there was a pain in her heart. The last few months, Y/N had been more lonely than ever. She had barely seen her sisters and the rest of the Inner Circle. Azriel was the only one she had seen and it was in passing, Y/N didn’t stick around for a full conversation. 

There was a knock at her door and Y/N sighed before dragging her feet to the front door and opened it up. Feyre was standing on the other side with a friendly smile on her face. Her hair was tied up and her hands were covered in dried paint. 

“Y/N, it’s good to see you,” Feyre said, wrapping her eldest sister in a hug. 

Despite the way she was feeling, Y/N smiled as she wrapped her arms around her youngest sister. It was the first hug she had received in a while. 

“What are you doing here? How’s Nyx?” Y/N asked. 

“He’s great,” Feyre said, lighting up at the mention of her son. “He misses you though.”

“I miss him too,” Y/N said. “I’ve been a bit busy lately, but I’ll visit everyone soon.”

“About that,” Feyre said as the two took a seat on Y/N’s couch. “We have been summoned to the Autumn Court. Eris has become the new High Lord and we need to build his trust. There is a ball and we must be in attendance.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, deflating the smallest amount. Her sister hadn’t come to see her to catch up.

“The whole Inner Circle is attending,” Feyre continued. 

“But I’m not a part of the Inner Circle,” Y/N replied. 

“Of course you are!” Feyre exclaimed. “You are family.”

It doesn’t feel like it, Y/N thought.

“When is this happening?” Y/N asked. 

“Two days time,” Feyre replied. 

Y/N only nodded and Feyre stood up from the couch. “I need to get back home, but I’ll come to collect you in two days.” 

Y/N didn’t bother to rise from the couch as Feyre hugged her and bid her goodbye as she exited her home. There was a pain in Y/N’s heart as she folded in on herself. All she wanted was her sisters and even they didn’t have the time for her anymore. 

***

Two days later, Y/N wore a gown that left little to the imagination. The slits in the skirt ended at her upper thigh and the plunging neckline and tight bodice accentuated her curves. Despite the way she was feeling, Y/N smiled at her reflection. 

When Feyre met with Y/N and was winnowed to the rest of the group, she remained on the outskirts. Everyone greeted her yet it felt as if they were only doing it out of common courtesy. Y/N never wanted to go back to her apartment more than ever. 

The Night Court was beautiful and Y/N would admit that. But the moment she got to the Autumn Court, she was taken by its beauty. The colours of the leaves and trees put her at ease. The slight breeze ruffled her hair as a smile tugged at her lips.

The feeling of being in the Autumn Court was different and Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if it was a good thing or not. She felt a small tug within her that drew her in. 

While everyone didn’t even stop to look around, Y/N lingered behind everyone looking around in wonder. Even when they entered the hall where the ball was taking place. Y/N gasped. 

The intricate architecture and the walls that seemed to shine took her breath away. The rest of the Inner Circle didn’t even react. Rhysand’s gaze was fixated on Eris standing at the very end of the room, lounging on his throne. 

When Y/N finally tore her gaze away from the high ceiling, her gaze finally landed on Eris. There was a slight tug within her that made her freeze. Eris’s gaze bore into hers as his eyebrows furrowed. His expression hardened just as quickly as he tore his gaze away from Y/N. 

“Rhysand,” Eris greeted, standing up from his throne. “Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.”

Y/N didn’t listen to Rhysand’s response as her gaze was fixated on Eris. There was a small frown on her face. There was a tug within her that she didn’t fully understand but she wanted to know more. 

Before Y/N knew it, everyone was mingling as she stood on the outskirts of the room, sipping her wine. Many males had approached her to dance but Y/N simply denied them. She had stayed near her sisters at first but as they went off with their mates, and in Elain’s case, Azriel, Y/N remained on her own. 

Feyre had spoken to her briefly and Nesta and Elain had exchanged a couple of words but there was nothing more than that. There was never anything more than that. 

Y/N watched as everyone danced and truly looked happy. Happier than she had ever seen them. Y/N could tell that she didn’t fit anywhere within their happiness. With a sigh, Y/N placed her empty wine glass down and slipped out of the room. 

She didn’t stray too far, the music could still be heard and Y/N hummed along. The night sky was filled with stars and Y/N simply sat herself down on the grass. The Autumn Court was beautiful. 

Y/N’s relaxed body suddenly tensed as she heard footsteps behind her. 

“The eldest Archeron sister.”

Y/N looked in the direction of the voice and her eyes wide fed as she felt the tug in her chest pull even more as Eris stood beside her. 

“Yes?” Y/N said. 

A smirk was present on Eris’s face as he lowered himself down so sit beside her. She was surprised. The High Lord of Autumn just sat on the grass beside her willingly. From what everyone had spoken about Eris, Y/N didn’t expect him to do that. 

“I haven’t seen you before,” Eris said, his tone casual. 

“I haven’t had a reason to make myself known,” Y/N responded. “I try not to be a part of anyone’s business.”

“But you were Made,” said Eris, leaning back on his elbows. “That makes you everyone’s business.” 

Y/N scoffed. “I never wanted to be Made. I was content with my life.”

Eris hummed.

Y/N glanced back at him, meeting his gaze. The tug happened again and Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“I was content with my life when I still felt like I had a family,” Y/N wasn’t entirely sure why she had told Eris that but she felt relieved that it was off her chest. 

Eris frowned. “You have three sisters.”

Y/N laughed humorously. “Three sisters who are happy with their relationships and families that they never spare a look my way. Ever since I was Made and have been trapped within the Night Court, I have felt my own sisters distancing themselves from me. I know it isn’t intentional. They have their own lives and I have mine. They each have their someone. They have someone to look after and someone to look after them. I am completely alone.”

There was nothing stopping the words spilling out of her mouth and she didn’t want to stop them. The weight on her chest was seemingly lifting with every word she spoke. However once Y/N realised who she was speaking to, her words ceased. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about how sad my life is,” Y/N said, wiping away a tear she didn’t know had escaped. 

“You feel trapped in the Night Court?” Eris questioned. 

“Trapped was the wrong word I think,” Y/N said. “I was welcomed at first but Rhys never allowed me to leave on my own in the first few months. I had to either stay indoors or have an escort everyday I went. It was suffocating. Even now, I am still told to stay within Velaris.”

“It has been years,” Eris said. “Why don’t you leave?” 

Y/N shrugged. “I am not sure where I would go. It’s not like I know anyone else and I wouldn’t be welcome back to my old life. So I guess I am trapped.”

Eris didn’t respond as he got to his feet, brushing himself off. He held out his hand to Y/N. 

“Come and dance with me,” Eris said. 

For some reason, Y/N felt herself reaching up to touch his hand. As soon as her fingers brushed his, Eris closed his hand around hers and pulled her to her feet. 

Y/N’s heart raced as they stood chest to chest. That pull in her chest became tight. 

Eris’s eyes glanced down at her, his eyes fighting to remain on her eyes. He failed as he looked down at her body and the dress that clung to it. The colour perfectly matching his jacket. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Y/N questioned, her voice a whisper. 

Eris’s eyes locked with hers again, as Isal could easily get lost in them. “What have they told you about me?”

“That you are rude, manipulative, dangerous,” Y/N answered. “They mentioned that you proposed to my sister after only one dance.”

“And do you know the reason for that,” Eris whispered, stepping closer to Y/N. 

The eldest Archeron shook her head, her heart hammering against her chest as the close proximity. 

“My father,” Eris spat, “was forcing my hand in marriage, he didn’t care who it was. I fought against it but once he…” Eris trailed off and sighed, though Y/N didn’t miss the flash of pain in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he did, but I knew that it would continue if I didn’t marry.”

“So you proposed to my sister,” Y/N concluded.

“I’ll be honest and say that it was a spur of the moment decision and I knew that it would piss off your High Lord and his lapdogs.”

“He isn’t my High Lord,” Y/N responded. 

“Oh? Then who is?” Eris’s voice was low and rumbled in his chest. Y/N's hands moved on their own accord to rest firmly against his firm chest. Not to push him away but to feel him. 

“No one,” Y/N said. “I am not controlled by anyone.”

Eris smirked. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Before Y/N could muster up a response, Eris had laced his fingers with hers and pulled her toward the ballroom. It was still lively and everyone still danced with their partners. However as Eris entered the room, all attention seemed to divert towards him, and then to Y/N, who didn’t shrink away from the stares. 

Eris brought her to the centre of the ballroom. His gaze focussed on her. Y/N swallowed, suddenly nervous. Even though many others had returned to dancing, Y/N could still feel the stares of those of the Night Court. From the corner of her eye, she could see Rhysand’s face twist into one of anger. Y/N couldn’t find it within herself to care. 

“Don’t focus on them, just focus on me,” Eris muttered as he wrapped an arm around her to pull her body flush with his and they began to dance to the music. 

At first Y/N couldn’t focus on anything but the stares of her sisters and their mates, but as soon as she felt Eris lightly squeeze her hand, she shifted focus to him. They danced around the ballroom with ease and Y/N found herself smiling. Y/N was surprised that the smirk Eris had was changed. Now a genuine smile graced his handsome face. It suited him.

“You are quite beautiful, Y/N Archeron,probably the most beautiful female I have ever encountered,” Eris muttered.

Y/N flushed and tried to ignore her pounding heart.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Y/N asked as he spun her around. “You never answered my question.”

As she was spun back into his chest, Eris held onto her tightly. “You feel it too, don’t you? That tug. That pull that began as soon as you set eyes on me.”

Y/N didn’t respond but the answer was in her eyes. 

“I feel it too,” Eris whispered into her ear. “And do you know what it is?”

Y/N had a feeling she knew what it was but she didn’t want to say it, in fear of being wrong and in fear of what would happen after. 

“A mating bond,” Eris whispered, his lips brushing against her ear and Y/N’s body was immediately covered in goosebumps. 

Y/N pulled away and looked into Eris’s eyes. There was something in the back of her mind telling her that he was lying and it was all some big joke. But the moment she looked into his eyes, she saw nothing but sincerity. 

Eris pressed his forehead against Y/N’s and she felt that cord within her tighten more until it snapped into place. There was no more feeling of the pushing and pulling. Her body seemed to get warmer and she gasped. 

“You are my mate,” Y/N said in disbelief. 

Eris smiled. “And you are mine.”

From across the ballroom, Rhysand stood with the rest of the Inner Circle, his arms folded across his chest as he glared at Eris. The High Lord of Autumn, listed his gaze from Y/N for the first time since they had begun to dance and locked it onto Rhysand. 

“I think your brother in law wants to talk,” Eris commented. 

Y/N ripped her attention away from Eris and turned it to her family standing the opposite side of the ballroom. Feyre’s eyes held a sense of pleading for her to get away from Eris. Nesta and Elain stood by her side, unreadable expressions on both of their faces. 

“Why should I care what they have to say? It’s not like they have taken any care in what I have to say.” Y/N answered. 

“I would love to return to dancing with you and let Rhysand do his own thing, whether that be leaving or brooding,” Eris said, his hand gripping her waist. “But I need to keep up appearances tonight.”

Eris led Y/N out of the ballroom and into the hallway, the rest of the Inner Circle following behind them. 

“What are you doing with him, Y/N?” Rhysand said as soon as the door was closed. 

“Dancing,” Y/N responded bluntly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Y/N, just come with us,” Feyre pleaded to her older sister. 

“Why?” Y/N exclaimed. “It’s not as if any of you even notice I’m there half of the time.”

“That’s not true,” Feyre said.

“Yes it is,” Y/N said, letting it all out. “When Tamlin gave us the money and Nesta, Elain and I lived in that house, the two of you barely ever spoke to me. After Elain and Nesta were thrown into the cauldron, no one even batted an eye once I was thrown in. None of you even cared even though I was screaming for someone to save me.”

“Of course we care, Y/N,” Nesta spoke up.

“You all have a funny way of showing it,” Y/N answered. “When everything was over I thought that I could have my sisters back, I thought that we could finally be a family after everything. But I was wrong, you all had someone who you valued over me. At first it didn;t bother me. I know that once you all had your mates, I wouldn’t be at the top of your priority list but I seemed to be right at the bottom.”

Tears fell from Y/N’s eyes no matter how hard she tried to stop them. “None of you told me that Feyre could have died from childbirth.”

The Inner Circle were silent. 

“When Feyre stopped by a few days ago, I was happy. I thought that you had come to talk to me and catch up but the only thing you did was tell me about this ball where my presence wouldn’t even be missed if I hadn’t attended.”

“Y/N, we are sorry you feel this way but do you realise who you are dancing with–”

Y/N cut Rhysand off with a scoff. “I just poured my heart out to all of you and that is all you have to say. Did any of you even notice me leave earlier? I think not. Eris followed me and was the one to ask if I was okay. He was the one who actually listened and took notice of me.”

“Y/N, we can talk about this back home,” Feyre said.

“Home? Velaris has never been my home,” Y/N said. “All of you made sure of that when you forgot I existed.”

“We didn’t forget about you, Y/N,” Elain piped up. “We love you.”

Y/N shook her head and hardly wiped the tears away. “If you loved me, you would act like it. You would check in on me from time to time. You would invite me to your family dinners that I never get an invite to. You would act like my sisters and not strangers. None of you were there when I needed you most.”

A tear slipped down Feyre’s cheek as she looked at her sister. “I am so sorry, Y/N. Please forgive us. Come home, we can make this right.”

Y/N shook her head. “I am staying here.”

Everyone looked surprised, even Eris, whose arm hadn’t left Y/N’s waist. 

“You are not staying here, Y/N,” Rhysand said. “As your High Lord–”

“You are going to command me to come back with you?” Y/N said. “Really, Rhysand, after all of that?”

“If I may interject,” Eris spoke up as Rhysand shot him daggers. “If Y/N does not want to return to you, I will have a room set up for her here and she will be looked after until she wishes to return.”

“She is not staying–”

“I am!” Y/N exclaimed. “I am staying here because Eris has been the only one to not make me feel invisible and useless.”

“Y/N, please,” Feyre said, her final attempt to try and convince Y/N.

Y/N shook her head. “I would prefer to stay here, at least until I am ready to see you all again.”

“How long will that be?” Elain asked. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N responded and Eris gently squeezed her waist in reassurance. 

Feyre nodded. “If that is what you wish, Y/N.”

“It is,” Y/N said. “Now please, leave me alone.”

Y/N turned on her heel and walked down the hallway until she was out of sight. 

Once she was around the corner, Y/N finally let out a sob, the weight was gone from her chest but at a cost. Her sisters probably hated her now. But she couldn’t stay in the Night Court, she didn’t belong there. It wasn’t her home and would never be her home. 

“Are you okay?” Eris asked, appearing behind her. 

Y/N tried to quiet her sobs but failed. 

Eris was by her side in an instant with his arms wrapped around her, chin resting on top of her head. Y/N immediately felt safe and secure in his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and held onto him tightly. The bond connecting the two filled Y/N with an emotion she couldn’t place. 

“They left,” Eris muttered. “They won’t bother you anymore.”

“Is it true?” Y/N said, pulling away from him to gaze up at him, her eyes bloodshot. “Can I really stay here?”

“For as long as you like,” Eris replied, brushing her tears away. 

“And what of the bond?” Y/N asked.

“That can be your decision,” Eris said. “If you choose to accept it or not, you will have a place at the Autumn Court.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you, I have only just met you but you have been so kind to me.”

Eris smiled. “You need not thank me for that. You deserve kindness.”

Y/N rested her hand over his heart. “As do you, Eris.”

Eris pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can show you to your room if you wish.”

“But what about the party?” Y/N questioned.

“Who cares?” Eris said. “My priority is to make sure that you are okay and looked after if you are staying here. I am not going to let my mate in just any room here, I will make sure you have the most luxurious one, right after mine, of course.”

Y/N laughed for what felt like the first time in a while. Eris smiled at the sound.

“Thank you, Eris,” Y/N said. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

Eris laced their fingers together and squeezed her hand and led her down the hallway. Y/N squeezed his hand back and happily walked alongside him. No longer would she be overlooked, not when she had Eris by her side.

[luveline]

i’ve been needing some more Spence in my life can I request something w him very fluffy and soft and lovely and wonderful I have no plot I’m so so sorry but you’re a genius please pick up my slack<333

thank u for ur request angel! fem!reader

Spencer is surprising, occasionally. He must have really missed you while you were apart, all five days and seven hours, because he pulls you so tightly into his arms upon seeing you that your heels lift up from the floor. Your laugh is a squeal and you scramble to keep purchase, clinging to him rather than have your full weight topple him over. 

"Hey, Spence!" you say brightly. "You didn't text me to say you were back! What's up with that?" 

"I knew you'd be here. Didn't wanna waste time texting," he says, sounding just as happy as you, his face crushed to the side of your head, the bridge of his nose against your ear. 

"Ah, because texting slows down the speed of the car you're in," you tease, moving back onto proper footing. It creates a gap between your faces, enough to see how tired he looks. 

Spencer hums and smiles despite his dark circles. It's a very vulnerable expression, almost hopeful. Sometimes you think he's worried that, in your time apart, your affection has lessened for him, like a few days is enough to realise he's not worth it. But that would never happen, because he's more than worth it. He deserves to know that. 

You stroke hair out of his face softly with your pinky finger, tucking it behind his ear, your hand pausing against his neck. "I'm glad you're home safe. I can stop worrying about you." 

"For a few days," he says with a wince. 

"Lucky me," you say sincerely. 

He dives in for another hug. You think you might love that most about him, how when he's missed you, all that he wants is to be close to you, choosing a hug over a kiss nine times out of ten. He's a little taller than you and you feel it in moments like this, his arm behind your neck to lock you in, his lips pressed to the highest point of your cheek. 

"It's concerning to me that you didn't hear me come in," Spencer says. "And that you didn't lock your door. You know forty percent of home invasions happen during the day?" 

"I wish I didn't know that now," you say. "You'd protect me, though." 

"With what?" he asks incredulously. 

You giggle and lean away from his embrace. He sounds genuinely confused as to what you're expecting from him, which is funny —he's a special agent for the FBI. "Just because you don't bring a gun home doesn't mean you can't look after us, Spence. I've heard all the stories, remember." 

"Exaggerated by Rossi after a glass of Chambertin." 

He's laughing by the time he finishes his sentence, infected by your giddy smile, his arms settling now behind your back. He hasn't quite mastered the art of casual intimacy; every touch from him is loaded with meaning and sincerity alike. 

You look up into his face. "I trust you, but I'll lock the door next time. Is it really forty percent? That seems high." 

Spencer loads up a spiel of statistics for you, listing them succinctly but interweaving correlations he clearly thinks you'll find interesting. He doesn't gloss over the scary stuff or the convoluted math. You're reeling by the time he's done. But happy, completely, in the circle of his arms. 

"I missed you," you say. 

Spencer looks surprised. "I missed you more," he says, matter-of-fact. 

You shake your head gently. "No. You didn't." 

Spencer dips his head down for a soft kiss. Your eyes shutter closed, your hand leaping for his cheek. He kisses you so sweetly that you think, Maybe he did miss me more. 

His thumb presses into your hip, his kiss ramping in urgency, and you fail to think about anything after that. 

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[stonewall-if]

Stonewall Military Academy: the most brutal, merciless, and unforgiving boarding school in the country. Most recruits either desert or die by the end of their first year. It is where the fiercest and deadliest killers are trained and molded to be the military's steel fist. And it is not for the faint of heart.

Your late mother was once the most respected Commander in the military...until she turned against her country and was killed. Her betrayal killed important figures, left thousands dead, and almost made your people lose a war against a monstrous opposition that threatens the livelihood of your people every day.

Your family has gone into hiding since then, exiled and branded as traitors. But when you're forced to defend your sibling, you're given two options: death or become Stonewall's newest recruit, which is a death sentence in and of itself.

You choose Stonewall.

Your mother's betrayal has tainted your family, has made anyone with your last name hated and has exiled them in circles your family once commanded. You will be bullied, ostracized, even almost killed by your fellow recruits who believe you lower than dirt.

But that won't stop you. You won't be part of the 99% of recruits who die or desert. You will get out of here. You will learn about your mother. And you will live to see graduation.

Will you?

Stonewall is an 18+ dark interactive fiction with minimal fantasy elements that follows MC to a ruthless military academy. Things such as explicit violence, death, bullying, and dark themes are prevalent.

Choose your gender identity and shape your recruit's personality.

Were you a bloodthirsty fighter--everything your parents wanted you be--or what people can consider a 'weakling'?

Fight violence with violence or confront your fellow student's violence with your words, or do nothing at all.

Rebel or become a loyal soldier. Fight for the High Commander's respect or be a thorn at their side.

Romance, befriend or become an enemy to a cast of characters.

Try to survive in the deadliest school in the country.

The High Commander: the leader of Stonewall. She is ruthless, bloodthirsty, and the source of nightmares for many. She doesn't expect you to make it here. Best to prove her wrong.

Your sibling: who is the closest person to you. Your actions saved them from a life of misery and you will continue to do everything in your power to protect them.

Roman [m] or Raven [f][RO]: your new mentor and trainer. R has long graduated as a student and is a full-fledged warrior working at Stonewall. They are cold, brutally honest, detached and unforgiving. They will push you to your limits, and they don't care how you feel about it. Really, they expected you to desert the moment you stepped foot into this place.

At least they're not unnecessarily cruel...which is the most you can hope for here.

Ivan [m] or Iris [f] [RO]: coming from the most powerful military family, I's bloodline has made them the most sought-after student in the school. Your mother also killed their father, so it is no surprise they hate your guts. They are at the top of the rankings, which means they are a bully, but a dangerous one. And they will not make your time here easy.

Marshall [m] or Maureen [f] [RO]: the bumbling, happy-go-lucky recruit that came in the same day as you. No one knows how the shy and easily scared M got into Stonewall...must be because they're from a line of powerful commanders. Still, they are nothing like their family, and you feel bad knowing the students are going to eat them alive. Stonewall will likely kill them before this year ends. Not your problem, right?

Enzo [m] or Eris [f][RO]: the child of the High Commander. No one wants to cross them, so no one talks to them. They are isolated like you but in a different way: they are fawned over while simultaneously being avoided. It seems like you may just be E's only ally in here (or not).

+more!

[fizzy-dizzie]

When Bucky hugged Steve for the first time since he got the serum, they were alone in a tent. They had just got back to the base camp after their miles long walk back from the hydra base and they were both exhausted.

Steve is situating himself around the very nice, fancy tent that he insisted on sharing and Bucky hasn't taken his eyes off him since he saw him from the table he was strapped onto. Steve. Little Steve. Steve who got sick every winter and who's asthma played up every summer. Steve who had been 5'4 and had remained as such since he was 14. Steve who got into too many fights and never won but not once for lack of passion.

Bucky has to say something, because he hasn't been saying anything since escaping the base and now he feels like he's about to boil over. "Steve"

The same big blue eyes he's always known greeted him and were quick to lace with concern. "You okay, Buck?"

And generally speaking no, Bucky was not okay, he'd been experimented on, he'd been taken by the enemy and strapped down to a goddamn table and he couldn't even remember half of what they did to him there.

For all Bucky knows he could drop dead at any moment but he isn't thinking about that, because he's thinking about how Steve is here, in front of him, all 6'2 of him. He's thinking about how the breath exiting his mouth doesn't follow with wheezing, or how he can take the full rib expanding breaths when he needs it without coughing until there are tears forcing themselves out of his eyes.

Bucky steps forward, his hand gently presses against the expanse of Steve's chest. He stops himself from gawking considering the fact you could park an eighteen wheeler on this thing, he even opens his mouth to say just that but then he feels Steve's heart beat, steady and pumping under his palm.

It's only slight considering the amount of muscle and thick bone in the way but he can feel it all the same and it's not stuttering and irregular. It's pumping blood, lots of blood wherever Steve needs it, constantly and in all the right places instead of spending most of its time in the lowest point of the body.

If Steve were to get sick this heart would help him get better instead of having to fight to keep itself working, and his new lungs might get congested but they wouldn't spasm every time he needed a breath of fresh air. Steve won't be laying in bed all winter sick and out of his mind with any and every illness that has always loved making his life a living hell.

Steve is healthy.

And suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Bucky clears his throat and blinks away any escaped liquid from his eyes, which are very pointedly looking towards his hand. Because if he looks up at Steve and sees those blue eyes all concerned, seeing right through him like they always do, he really will loose it.

"You're okay.." He mumbles mostly to himself.

It comes off as a statement more than anything and a chocked out one at that but Steve knows, because he always knows what Bucky is trying to get at. He places his hand over Bucky's wrist and just holds him, his hand is steady and must be magical because Bucky grows calm at the touch.

"I'm okay."

Feeling himself falter at the affirmation, he leans in, arms wrapping around the waist he could once circle completely with one arm. But he almost backs out as quickly as he started it, the foreign body giving the wrong signals, like hugging a coworker or a distant relative you see once a decade.

But taking a deep breath to centre himself, Steve smelled like he always did, plus the scent of cheap soap hardly lingering, faded from the long day they both just had.

And when he ran his hands over his back he could feel the familiar humps of his spine and count them all the same. Even Steve's hands find the same spot on Bucky's back as they always used to, where his ribs end and his back start to dip in at the start of his waist.

Bucky can still reach the hair at the base of Steve's head and run his fingers through it like he used to see Steve's ma do when they were young.

Now Steve sighs into the hug and Bucky squeezes tighter since he knows he won't be doing any damage. They stay like that for a long time in their own personal world, the centre of their own solar system, everything else moving around them, floating within their orbit.

When they pull back, Bucky's hands linger on Steve's waist for longer then they should and when he looks up Steve's eyes are so full of admiration but his nose and eyebrows are scrunched up like he's got something to say.

Bucky takes his hands back to his sides. "what?"

"We aren't going to leave each other again, okay?" He says it so sure, like they aren't going to be in the heat of battle every other day but Bucky wants it just as bad as he does so he nods and smiles.

"You're stuck with me pal, I'm not going anywhere"

[rxzennia]

thrice shall the bell toll

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 expands on 2.2 leaks, dark content towards the end, character death (everyone dies), heavy angst(?), not proofread. totally did not die a little inside when i wrote this, no. thank you all for 100+ followers! gold and gears, achievement grinding are driving me nuts and seeing everyone else get him makes me want to quit the game altogether. perhaps it’s time i focus more on other things. 

“never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

the musicians begin to play with rigor as the symphony enters crescendo, building up to its climax as the orchestral music increases in intensity and irregularity. the choir sings, paving the way for the descent of an aeon, of justice; their harmony announcing the impending doom of the sinner, promising his demise, promising him eternal rest.

you arrive at the central plaza, just in time for the closing act.

you meet sunday’s eyes, the bastard head of the oak family, the mastermind conducting this cacophony of noises and disturbances. he has the gall to smirk, to flash you a smirk, as if he’s daring you to do anything.

“aventurine, ambassador of the interastral peace corporation.” sunday stalks around the man bound in shackles, like predator circling prey, hands behind his back as he looks down at him with contempt. “you are hereby found… guilty.”

the baton descends – with it, the melody dramatically tips over its climax into decrescendo. 

people often say that death has no place in a dream of prosperity and privilege. 

but when the distinction between dream and reality blurs as the very dimension crumbles, who’s to say that to die is to wake, and who’s to say that death is not still death?

in his last moments of consciousness, aventurine sees you reach for your scarf with an expression he had never seen before. acceptance, perhaps? or disappointment? regardless, you have still chosen to surprise him at his last moment. must you continue to exceed his expectations even at his execution? but both you and he know that it is already too late, and his final solace is that you are present to witness the final chapter of his story.

that he is not left behind again.

the golden hands come full circle, palms closing as the strings lift their bows in unison, leaving only the winds to continue playing. the conductor drops their baton as the inevitable quickly encroaches upon the center stage, as the music ceases until only a sole trumpet remains sounding –

he closes his eyes with a last smile for you; aventurine has finally won, at the cost of losing everything.

once shall the bell toll, for the blessed prisoner condemned to a life of deceit and insincerity.

in a split second, the sky darkens; what used to be perpetually golden and bright has been eclipsed without a trace. the artificial sun goes out, street lamps are extinguished, a veil of darkness envelops the golden hour. what was once paradise becomes the abyss, and lament stands where joy once stood. 

your scarf flutters to the ground as you give it a strong tug, undoing its loops around your neck as you let it fall. you are half-expecting a gasp followed by a waterfall of words, but it never comes.

because there is no source. aventurine isn’t here anymore. 

there’s no more of your boss staring at you with the most awestruck expression as you reveal your face anymore. there’s no more of your boss’s endless pestering anymore.

there’s no more of aventurine opening up to you, getting you to open up, or him tentatively trusting you with fragments of his past anymore.

for the first time, you experience anger. a wrath so intense that it is enough to set even the heavens alight.

it’s about time someone ripped up this disgusting dream woven with fabric made of lies. this facade of extravagant luxury built upon a decaying foundation and the desperation of the masses’ escapism, a nightmare delicately packaged into fantasy that had stripped countless people of their ambitions and futures, it’s about time someone demolished it all.

the dreamchasers who voluntarily surrendered their realities for a temporary escape, the family members who could only obey, the heads of families who put together a ploy like this, and the harmonious strings who composed such a chaotic melody…

none of them matter. 

all that matters is that aventurine is executed, publicly, in utmost humiliation.

your scarf disintegrates into tiny specks of dust. brilliantly platinum scales extend from your fingertips to your jaw, threatening to stretch along your face, too. as if answering your call, serpents emerge from all corners of your shadow, slithering off towards all directions as they respond to your will.

in the sky that is pitch black, even darker shadows rear their heads; they fly, circle around the plane of the masterfully crafted illusion, around penacony itself. they await your orders, they await your next command. 

“eat up, my darlings.”

twice shall the bell toll, for the manufactured illusion of utopia drowning in the afterglow of opulence.

there is a reason why oroboros the voracity has kept to themselves in an unseen corner of the universe – they are not titled the unsatisfied devourer without reason.

with each corner you take for your own sustenance, you feel the universe tilt. the scales are tipping, the balance is tipping. with each piece of reality you consume, the boundary between subconscious and conscious blurs, falsehoods bleed into truth, and you feast upon them all the same.

in your rage, you are not merely tearing lives and environments apart. you are tearing religions apart, tearing peoples apart. worshippers and monuments of xipe the harmony, their symbols and their emanators, the hard-built resort destination called the dreamscape, and the plainly unremarkable penacony in reality, you are tearing it all apart.

you know you have upset the balance, and you know the consequences. you can hear the crystalline chime of the arbiter’s footsteps approaching you, you can almost see the blinding white light of the operating theater.

as the planet of festivities begin to fall out of orbit, so too do the serpents begin to decompose into glittering ashes. 

people scream as gravity somersaults, some swallowed by the caving ground, some swallowed by the gaping maws of the faceless serpents, and some dying by the hand of their kin as they struggle for survival.

you watch impassively as mortals scramble to prolong their lives, and you watch impassively as your serpents are lost, one by one, to the hands of an aeon.

if the mere handwave of an arrogant upholder of justice and a simple declaration are justification enough for an execution, for what reason should you not return the gesture?

if people would simply watch as someone is served the death penalty, what reason do you have to act as they become feed one after another?

and what reason do you have to cling onto mortal sentiments, now that your anchor to mortality is gone?

the man they killed is aventurine. your sometimes-too-annoying boss that you would not trade for anything in the world. your anchor; your dear, dear friend.

you see no reason to rein in your instincts anymore. the primal urge to consume overwhelms you, and all you want to do is to devour, devour, until there is nothing left.

voracity. oroboros’s will.

eat up while you still can, fill your metaphorical stomach with the blood of implicit killers, and tear into the flesh of the perpetrators of this grave transgression.

make them pay. before your judgement rains upon you, before the trumpeters herald your doom, before the star radiating false light meets its end in a supernova, make them pay.

their surgery is swift and painless – precise incision; two, three motions of the scalpel; complete excision.

at long last, the curtains fall. theatrics reach its conclusion, and when you look – there is no one left in the audience. 

thrice shall the bell toll, for the leviathan whose fury burned brighter than the ordinance of equilibrium.

[petrapalerno]

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #11

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, pregnancy, overstimulation, anal play, gagging, violence and murder.

MASTER POST

PREVIOUS

There’s a jungle that spreads out before you, so different from the dusty red steppes you’ve seen on the rest of this planet. Like a mirage or an oasis, it is teeming with life. 

Alien animals swing from the heavy vines that drape over the full golden foliage. The trunks of the trees twist in ways that seem too delicate to support their massive canopies. There must be some magic behind their design for they seem sturdy. 

Lost in the enchantment of this new world, you barely register the feeling of Graysi stumbling over his own feet. 

It feels like time slows down as you’re forcefully thrust forward, unaffected by whatever is holding the big cat’s movement at bay The inertia speeds up your inevitable face plant into the powdery dirt. 

You shut your eyes tight, waiting for impact. 

There’s a tugging at your belly, and a twisting motion that has your body spinning. You feel Drohako’s warm chest at your back, his arms are circling your stomach protectively, and although the collision with the ground is abrupt, your alien mate absorbs most of the impact. 

It takes a moment before you can breathe properly; the wind having been knocked out of your chest. 

Once you regain some of your composure, you realize that Drohako’s arms are limp around you. You twist around, cupping the side of his cheek. 

As you pull his face towards yours, blood wells from a forehead cut at the edge of his hairline. The rock underneath his head is small, but jagged. 

Drohako is knocked out cold. 

You panic, cursing this stupid planet for not having helmets, and put your palm against the cut. Alien blood has to clot and slow with pressure like humans, right? 

As the fear of something more sinister than a temporary blackout gnaws at you, you rack your brain, attempting to piece together what transpired. 

You scan the treeline, not seeing a single trace of Graysi... but when you hear him snarl directly above you, you lift your eyes higher, realizing that the giant cat is caught in some primitive looking snare. 

Despite its best efforts, it can’t lift its heavy body high enough to bite through the rope that’s suspending its four paws above it. 

“Did you think you’d get away from the Volkroth human? That they’re wouldn’t be safeguards against this kind of thing?” A deep voice booms from the thicket of golden leaves. 

His boot crunches heavily on the underbrush as he steps into the light. 

A Volkroth, smaller than Drohako but none the less intimidating, comes closer to you. The right side of his face is marred with a heinous and twisting scar. 

The ruined flesh runs through one milky eye and ends at the tail of the scar, with a menacing grin.

“All this trouble for a little thing like you? Seems such a waste,” He keeps advancing toward you, and you shake your unconscious protector. 

Please wake up, please Drohako...

“We’re mates, he told me. I swear he’s just trying to keep me safe!” You plead with the alien, unsure of what he plans to do with you. 

His steps falter when he hears you say the word, mate.

“Mate? Not possible—you lie!” He spits, finally close enough to grab your wrist.

As he rips you from Drohako’s still unmoving body, he’s full of rage. Somehow, your plea to honor the matehood has had the opposite effect you intended. 

“You’re hurting me... Drohako won’t stand for this!” You yelp, attempting to wrench your wrist from his grip.

“He won’t care much about anything anymore,” the brute laughs as he throws you over his shoulder. “In fact, maybe I’ll claim you as my own in the spawning pits—-I’ve never had something so fragile as a human before.” 

The volkroth keeps running his mouth on what he’d like to do to you as you dissociate. Your mind slips back to when Drohako first held you like this. How he slung you over his shoulder at your initial meeting. The fear then only heightened your excitement.

Now, as you’re dragged from your lifeless mate, it only fills you with dread. 

“We can’t just leave him here!” You yelp, kicking your feet against him. 

“Don’t worry, the jirion hounds will take care of him,”

No, that’s not possible. 

You run your hands over his chest, fingers searching with unhinged desperation. 

“Your ‘mate’s’ body isn’t even yet cold human, and hear you are ready to be rutted again,” The volkroth laughs with his entire chest, so convinced of the fact that you’d easily give up your mate. 

His laugh is cut short as you finally grab one of the many blades that the volkroth like to keep strapped to their bodies. With every bit of your strength, you forcefully drive the sharp point of the blade into the vulnerable flesh of his neck. 

He gurgles as you twist the dagger, fiery blood running down your hand, the liquid sputtering from between his dark purple lips. When he falls to his knees, you regain your footing, kicking off of him as he face plants into the ground. The bastard clutches for his neck, his body slowly draining of its purple color, mewling around on the ground like the worm he is. 

You can’t stop yourself as you spit on his back. His movements slow as his skin turns gray.

Good.

Only when you hear Drohako cough his way back to the realm of the living does your rage subside. 

You rush to his side as he struggles to sit up. 

“What happened?” He croaks, his voice so hoarse it’s almost a whisper. When he touches your hand, his brows draw together. He pulls his fingers back from yours, they’re slick with blood.

The panic spreads over his face as he wipes his your cheek frantically with his hands. “Are you hurt?” 

“No, it’s okay now. Do you think you can stand?” You ask him as he continues to clean your skin.

“The blood,” his eyes are wild, “where did the blood come from?” 

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine. The blood is yours and the sad excuse for a volkroth over there.” 

He follows your outstretched thumb to the dead alien behind us. 

“Did he hurt you?” He’s not any calmer when he unsteadily clambers to his feet. 

You rush to his side, wrapping an arm around his hips, as if he would show weakness by leaning against you. 

He doesn’t, of course, but instead hurries to the dead volkroth, now laying facedown in a pool of his own quickly coagulating blood and stomps on his skull with brutal force.

The sickening sound of bones cracking echoes through the air as they collide with the blood-soaked mud. 

Despite having just slit the dead alien’s throat, you quickly avert your gaze from the macabre sight. 

Only when Drohako wraps you up in his arms, tucking your chin against his chest, do you refocus your attention. 

“Did he hurt you, mate?” He asks softly.

“No, quite the opposite,” you whisper. “He was too weak to continue his bloodline. It dies with him.”

Pride sparks behind Drohako’s eyes and he cups your blood-soaked face in his hands, he crashes his mouth against your own with a hungry, desperate, kiss.

“You are perfect,” he mutters against your ear as he breaks away.

Drohako groans as you squeeze the coil of his members through his loincloth. They pulse, hardening at your touch. You both almost just died, but there’s something about victory that makes you slick with want. Maybe you’re becoming a true volkroth mate after all.

“I will have you stuffed full of my cocks before long, but for now, we ride.”

He swiftly grabs a curved blade and hurls it towards a nearby tree trunk, the sound of metal meeting wood echoing through the air. Graysi is taken by surprise as the blade severs the fibers of the snare rope, causing him to crash heavily onto the ground with a loud thump.

The cat coughs, shaking his head a few times before stalking over to the ruined body of your attacker. Gripping his torso in his giant maw, he flings him off the path and into the thick underbrush of the forest.

With a satisfied snort, he looks back at us as if we’re the ones lollygagging.

“To the hunting cave.”

NEXT

[pandoraslxna]

⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: degradation, praise kink, double penetration, p in v, anal, rough sex, enemies to lovers, creampie, begging

They fuck in the same way that they fight.

"Come on, darlin’, give it to us!"

It’s a battle for the upper hand, to be better, hold on the longest, fuck the hardest, make you come the fastest.

"You’re being too rough. You really want to fuck her brains out, huh?"

"And you’re too fuckin' soft, Corporal. Look how she’s drooling. Hah. Pretty girl likes to be ruined, don’t you?"

It’s a filthy rhythm they had set, various body fluids smearing between three tangled bodies. One of them, you don’t even know which of the two, thrusts in just as the other pulls out, which leaves you in a constant state of fullness, never empty for even a second. Once in a while though, when they’re feeling like working as a team for once in their life or maybe for the sake of old times, they thrust into you together– same time, different holes, and you gasp sharply.

"Fuuuck", Jake groans, throwing his head back in bliss, enjoying the incredible tightness of your body, He can feel Quaritch move inside of you, can feel his thrusts through the thin wall that’s separating them. "She‘s so fucking tight!"

"Damn right she is", Miles chuckles lowly into your ear, sharp teeth grazing your skin and you physically shiver– or you would, if there was any room to do so.

You don’t have a lot of space to move at all with how they're positioned, laying with your back against Quaritch’s chest, your legs spread wide and draped over his arms, while Jake stands right there between them. They’re filling you up, again, again, again, thrusting into your wet, sloppy heat with their throbbing cocks, stretching your holes wide on them.

And it’s messy, so messy.

You fast become dazed, only dimly aware of anything beyond the deep ache starting to form inside you, the event itself, and repeat.

You can’t even remember how many times you’ve come by now, but it must’ve been quite a few times, by the way your slick arousal squelches loudly whenever they thrust into you.

Quaritchs hands on the underside of your knees hold you in place as he suddenly starts to fuck you at a much deeper, rougher pace. That in return, makes Jake pick up the pace too. Then his hand, that had been holding your ankle up in the air, leaves so he can rub your poor, oversensitive clit. It feels just right, like the two of them know your body better than you do, know what you need, know the speed and the pressure that’s needed to make you fall apart.

For a while, all three of you are lost in the moment, world reduced to the slick slide of skin against skin, the obscene squelching sounds and the constant smack, smack, smack of skin against skin. For once, even Jake and Quaritch had stopped arguing over your head. They’re at a complete loss for words, reduced to low groans and grunts as they continue to ruin you.

Then they’re alternating their thrusts again, one of them always pressing in as the other withdraws, and every time one thrusts in they brush over your pleasure spot, leaving you sobbing and writhing on their cocks, clutching on Quaritch arms so hard it must hurt, chanting their names in between moans, hardly able to catch your breath.

"Doing so good, sweetheart, so good for me", Jake groans, his thumb still circling your clit. Your legs are twitching, tingles of electric shocking pleasure soaring through your nerves, leaving you a trembling, moaning mess between them.

"You like when Sully’s praising you, huh? Can feel you clenching, doll. Yeah, you like that don’t you?"

Words were entirely washed out of your system, your mind completely overtaken by the fullness of two cock sliding in and in and then all the way out just to slip back in, harder, tight body gripping and squeezing them.

"Fuck, I think she’s coming again!" Jakes chuckle sends a shiver down your spine, which makes you arch your back and push your hips forward to meet his thrust, chase the touch of his thumb on your clit. "Say please, baby. Want to hear you beg for it."

"Pl-ease, plea–ah!", you half sobbed, half slurred, with drool running down your chin as your eyes began to roll back into your head, "Fuck, oh fuck, m’coming! Plea-ah, please–"

Quaritchs hand is suddenly reaching around your middle, and then both of their fingers are greedily fighting for their place to rub over your slippery clit.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, with whiny little chants of yes yes yes yes, it bubbled up from low in your stomach to explode over every nerve in your body. You were just glad you couldn’t even hear yourself and what sounds you made as you writhed between the two of them, from all the blood rushing behind your ears, drowning out all sounds. All you could still register was the feeling of your throat becoming sore, shock waves radiated through your body, as you’re clamping down hard on the men inside you.

The first thing you hear after coming back to your senses, were both of them groaning deeply at the grip from your vice like channels. And then there’s this warm, sticky feeling inside your core, filling you up until it slowly seeped out around their cocks and dripped onto the floor below.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Lucien who now lives full time in the Day Court knowing the truth (think white robes and cold crown and makeup omg) and who has been in love with IC reader since getting to know her while he was there.

She's now visiting on some Night Court business (research, negotiation, etc.), and he's decided to put on his full Lucien teasing charm to woo her.

Sunlight in a Bowl.

Summary: Did he just... no. Of course not.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: I didnt realise how much i loved this idea until i wrote it 😭 thank you soo much my darling anon for sending in this request, i had soo much fun writing it lol, it was like it took no effort, came to me soo easy 🥹

also, posting this an hour early for funsies 🤭

i promised no angst so theres no angst @milswrites

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

The day court was beautiful.

That was all Y/n could think of as a sentry led her towards Helion's private receiving chambers, all other adjectives having flown out of her head the moment Azriel had dropped her on the border of Day court, from where she'd winnowed herself to the palace.

The white houses, the red and gold roofs, the sunlight shining from above and reflecting from pools of water and the Palace right in the center of it all, the colourful market in the town square...

It was safe to say Y/n was ready to move to Day court, already having forgotten that she was here on a mission from Rhysand.

She was ready, bags packed, no questions asked.

So busy was she gaping at the beautiful architecture of the palace, the artwork reigning her in like some trick of hypnotism, she didn't realise the sentry had come to a stop outside two large oak doors.

Unfortunately, that meant she smacked right into his back before she realised.

Her cheeks blazing, Y/n stumbled back as she glanced up at the male, who had an amused smile on his face.

"I merely stumbled. My dress is a little long."

He nodded. "Never said you did not stumble. I believe it must be hard to walk around in your too long knee length dress."

Blood rushed into Y/n's ears as she looked down at the dress that... only reached her knees, realising he was right.

Fuck.

She cleared her throat, standing at attention, avoiding his eyes.

From her peripherals, she could see him grinning as he knocked on the door, waiting until a voice called out to let them in.

The male opened the door, holding it open for Y/n. She hurried in, resisting the urge to just die as he closed the door behind her.

So much for making a good first impression.

Y/n shook her head, trying to dislodge the lump now forming in her throat at the upcoming conversation.

Being an introvert and shy was a hard job, one Y/n was very good at.

But being introverted and shy while being an emissary? Now that was the job of someone that Y/n would consider god.

And exactly why Y/n had been so against the idea of her becoming an emissary when Rhysand suggested it, knowing she would rather live a life alone in the middle of nowhere and probably become the next Weaver than become an emissary.

Alas, she was the only researcher Rhysand had at his disposal, so now she had been sent to read through as many libraries and books in day court as possible to aid in Feyre's second pregnancy.

It hadn't been confirmed yet whether the babe was winged, but Rhysand and the inner circle thought it best to start researching in advance just in case the babe did have wings and to prevent the second pregnancy ending up the same way the first did, and this time with no one to save them.

"Y/n! Always a pleasure to see you!" Y/n met the warm honey eyes that belonged to Helion, a smile spreading on her face unprompted.

"Helion." She greeted, walking forward and directly into his open and inviting arms, squeezing him back when he wrapped his arms around her.

"I hope the journey was not too hard?"

Y/n laughed, pulling away. "All I had to do was winnow, Helion, why would it be hard?"

Helion grinned, then turned to glance at something behind him.

With horror, Y/n realised that it was not something, it was someone.

Her panicked eyes shot to Helion, remembering that Rhys said Y/n wouldn't have to interact with anyone other than the day court high lord.

"Ah Y/n, meet my son, Lucien. Though I'm sure you've met before."

Y/n swallowed, then let her eyes wander to Lucien. Which, definitely not a good idea, considering Y/n was suddenly drooling and looking away like he had burned her eyes.

She had only looked at him for a moment, but that moment was enough for Y/n to have taken note of how ravishing he looked.

Ravishing?!? Get a grip Y/n.

Y/n attempted to calm her racing heartbeat by taking deep breaths, trying not to think of all the golden skin on display that was not covered by the white robe, the gold crown adorning the head of fiery red.

Trying especially hard not to think about the way his skin glowed with happiness and the beautiful, flirtatious smile adorning those plush, soft lips.

"We- we have met before."

"That's amazing! So if introductions are not needed, I'll take my leave."

Y/n knew her eyes were bulging out of her head at this point, but she did not really care as she gaped at Helion's retreating back. She continued to stare until he reached the doors, then turned to wink at her like he was in on a secret she was not.

Bastard.

Y/n, not knowing what to do, glanced at Lucien, who, in the perfect son-of-bastard way, sent her a cocky grin.

Y/n glared at him at that, pretending like the blush on her face was because of anger and not because she was shy.

"I don't know if Rhys informed you, but I will be helping you out today with the research."

Y/n's eyes widened, staring at him like he'd claimed to have met the Mother herself.

Which, Y/n would have been less surprised to hear, but that was the talk for another day.

"I- no one told me."

Lucien shrugged, that infuriating smile still on his face. "It came up last moment when my father had to leave to handle some important matters."

Y/n nodded sadly, mentally encouraging herself that she could do this.

With a sigh, she gestured at him. "Lead the way."

•○🌑○•

"Are you hungry yet?"

Y/n reigned in her sigh of exasperation.

For the past hour, Lucien had been hovering around Y/n, bothering her with stupid questions and trying to get her to go somewhere else. Where, Y/n could not for the life of her figure out.

She glanced up at him, finding his arms crossed over his chest, a careless grin on his face as he leaned against the desk she sat at.

She also noticed how he stood a little too close to just be acting like a caring host, but she ignored it, just like she ignored the bulging, mouth watering muscles in his arms.

"I am sorry Lucien, but my stomach does not consider me worthy of food at the moment. I will let you know once it decides I deserve to eat."

He laughed at that, his head thrown back, his chest vibrating with how genuine the sound was.

Y/n's eyes dropped to the strong column of his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he glanced back down to her, grinning. Y/n noticed the dimple that made an appearance in his cheeks, but she pretended she was still mad at his constant nagging and turned back to the thick bound tomes she had open in front of her.

Y/n got a moment of reprieve before he drew her attention again.

But this time he did not ask her if she was hungry or if she was thirsty.

No, he pushed off from the table, and Y/n watched him from the corner of her eyes as he walked to the back of her chair.

She was curious, of course she was, but also glad that he would let her do her studies.

Also sad that he was leaving, but no one needed to know that.

But suddenly, two arms were caging her in against the table, and Y/n startled at the sudden heat of being caged against the wood by someone who quite literally had the heat of autumn court fire in his blood and the warmth of day court sun in his blood.

"What are you doing?!" Y/n yelped, trying to keep quiet in the library.

His breath tickled the hair at the side of her neck as he leaned in.

"I am just wanting to inquire when your stomach will deem you worthy of eating."

"Oh my god." Y/n mumbled, her blood tinting her face red. "Stop it Lucien!"

"Not until you tell me you will go out to eat with me. Tell me, will giving you the sun in a bowl convince you?"

Y/n only kept getting redder in the face, and to try to cover it up, she slapped her hands over her face.

He tsked. "That sounded like it hurt."

Y/n paused for a moment, then mumbled out- "It did."

He laughed again, and something about having him so close to her, so free and vulnerable did things to Y/n. She spread her fingers, peeking out to find his eyes closed, his teeth glinting softly in the sunlight streaming in through the stained glass windows.

She stared at him, slowly letting her hands fall into her lap, not realising she was staring.

Or maybe not caring.

His laughter slowly died down, the sound still ringing softly in Y/n's ears until it faded away.

He met her eyes, happier than Y/n had ever seen, and gave her a soft smile.

"So?"

Y/n sighed, the sound so exaggerated she would have laughed any other time.

"Fine."

For good measure, Y/n rolled her eyes at him before she turned back to the dusty tomes sitting on the rich wood desk.

She could practically feel his grin as he dipped closer, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Y/n's eyes flew wide, turning to gape at him as he straightened.

"So, a bowl of sunlight. In the receiving room before sunset?"

Y/n choked out an okay.

The bastard had the audacity to wink at her as he turned and strutted away, his careless demeanour already enchanting Y/n's malfunctioning brain.

She watched his retreating back until she couldn't anymore, then straightened to stare at the words that now made no sense to Y/n because she was so busy trying not to think about the plans she now had for the evening.

Did he just...

Y/n blinked, glancing once to the archway he'd just disappeared into.

Did he just ask me out on a date?

Y/n shook her head.

No, it was just not possible.

Lucien? Asking Y/n out on date?

Y/n wanted to laugh at herself for even thinking that. Lucien would never...

Fuck.

Despite herself, Y/n began to smile, and hope.

What have I gotten myself into?

It was going to be hurting her brain to think so much about it, but she couldn't care less about it.

Still smiling, Y/n returned to her work, now trying to stop focusing on him and start doing the thing she was actually here for.

It's going to be a long day.

•○🌑○•

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria

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whore hive: @clairebear08 @readychilledwine @riddlesb1tch @berryzxx @thehighladywrites @artists-ally

[tieronecrush]

I’m finally sending you a request!!

it’s a bit based on Waking Up In Vegas by Katy Perry with Javier x reader.

they have known each other since high school but haven’t seen each other since after graduation, until one night they bump into each other in Las Vegas, while both are there for their friends’ birthday parties.

At some point it’s only them left at the bar and they spend the night drinking, talking about each others’ lives and other things 🫢

they wake up the next morning in the same bed, hangover and married.

I already know I’m going to love this!!

FINALLY have finished this, thank you so much for your patience friend! <3

(re)union with elvis

rating: E

word count:

summary: ask above!

warnings: alcohol use, drunkenness, silly decision making, chatting about marriage/kids/life, discussion of failed previous relationships, vegas marriage, elvis getting annoyed, making out, fingering, unprotected p in v, sloppy drunk sex with ur new husband lol, discussions of annulment/ending marriage, use of spanish (all translated), etc.

Eyes open to sunlight beaming in through the wide opening of the blackout hotel curtains. You shut them again immediately, turning over away from the window, stopping when your hand brushes something next to you. Your eyes spring open again at the feeling, taking in next to you the dark, touseled hair, relaxed brow, hooked nose with a full mustache above plush lips.

Javier Peña.

You completely forgot about the little reunion you had last night at the bar with your high school crush.

And clearly forgot that the two of you ended up coming back to your room—no, wait, this is not your room. Same hotel, though, you can tell from the similar art hanging on the walls and the same blanket at the end of the bed. Must have been nearly missing each other the whole weekend you’ve been here.

A grumble from the man next to you turns your attention back to the bed, pulling you out of your thoughts. Half awake, his arm moves and slings across your waist, tugging you closer. He hums and his eyes slowly peel open, widening as he fully awakens in the low light. His arm stays loosely over your waist, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he faces you.

The two of you take in your bare skin against each other, under the scratchy sheets. Warmth radiates between the two of you, Javier fully pulling his arm away and sitting up, the sheets still covering his lower half as he looks down at you.

“Um…did we…?” Javi’s voice hoarse with sleep and a hangover, right hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he swallows the words that he doesn’t necessarily want to speak out loud, in fear of awkwardness that already coats the air.

The moment pulls a laugh from you, completely involuntarily, and you fall from your side onto your back. With a slow nod in confirmation, you shrug your shoulders with the sound of sheets rustling.

“Guess so,” you chuckle again and a smile stretches across Javi’s lips, a scoff of a laugh as he shakes his head.

“Is it bad I’m kind of mad I got too drunk to really remember that?” his eyes drag along your form under the thin bedsheet, hand coming up to his face to pull his thumb across his bottom lip from the corner, “Don’t really know if it came up last night, but I had a huge crush on you in high school.”

“The Javier Peña had a crush on me?” you tease, shades of memory from last night at the bar with him coloring your mind, seeing his sheepish grin as you beam back at him, “Think you did mention that last night. And pretty sure I told you that I also had a huge crush on you.”

Both of you giggle softly again, your face shifting into a wince as your head pounds from the sounds and strain of laughing. Your hands come up to your face to wipe under your eyes and rub circles in your temples, groaning quietly and opening your eyes to Javi’s face dropped in shock.

With a quizzical expression aimed at him, you open your mouth to question him when he suddenly takes your left hand and crosses the arm over your chest as he brings it closer to him, eyebrows furrowing as he studies your fingers. When you follow his stare, your stomach drops when you see the golden band with a plush oval diamond. His thumb runs over the gem, pressing the ring into you and you can tell it’s cheap, the gold coating a flimsy metal ring.

Javier’s eyes meet yours again, wide eyes and raised eyebrows matching yours, “Uh—-um, I—Did we get married last night?”

Music thumps around you, sending vibrations from the shaking floor throughout your body as you stand in the middle of the dancefloor in the club. Your friends surround you, all dancing along to the pop song with you. It’s a long weekend at the end of summer, and you and your closest friends from college all gathered in Vegas to celebrate your younger friend’s thirty-fifth birthday. She was always a bit of an extra person, so when you received an invitation via email to join her in Las Vegas for the weekend, you weren’t quite surprised that she was going big for her birthday. And besides the fact that you were having fun celebrating with your girlfriends, it was nice to get away for the weekend and let loose completely.

Your drink swishes in the cup in your hand as you dance, facing your friends and unaware of the man approaching you from behind, leaning in asking you just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Care to dance, beautiful?”

Immediately, you roll your eyes at the question, typical of a man to be so blind to a woman having fun with her friends and not wanting to be bothered. A rejection sits on your tongue as you turn around over your shoulder, lips pursed in a sour pout.

The man comes into view, a lilac short-sleeve button-up stretched across broad shoulders and tapering into a waist and thigh sculpted into tight blue jeans. Your eyes flutter back up to the man’s face, soft brown eyes striking into your chest and a warm smile showing off his teeth from under his trimmed mustache.

A gasp slips from your lips out of reaction to the sight in front of you, your own smile widening to match his.

“Javi Peña? From Laredo?”

His arms move out at his sides, showing himself off for you to consider the answer to your question with a chuckle.

“I knew it was you,” he smiles sweetly as you pull him in for a hug, squeezing your arms around his shoulders. From under the fabric of his shirt, you can feel his muscles flex under as he wraps his own arms around you in an embrace, one of your hands dropping to his back and feeling the deliciously taut strength. He smells like tobacco mixed with notes from his cologne, vetiver, musk, and lemon tingling your senses as you take another breath in your hug before pulling away. Your hands remain on his shoulders as you look him up and down, meeting his eyes with an incredulous laugh.

“I can’t believe it’s you! God, it’s been…”

“Years? Don’t remind me I’m old, I already feel like it in this whole city,” he laughs.

You hit his shoulder gently before dropping your arms back to your sides, rolling your eyes playfully as you grin.

“Oh, hush. You can’t say you’re old cause that makes me about to be old. You were only a grade above me, Peña.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t spend years running on rooftops and trekking through the jungle in Colombia. That shit ages you. You, on the other hand, don’t look a day over twenty-one. Bet they had to check your ID coming in here, didn’t they?” He sends a wink to you, smile quirking up to one side as it turns into a smirk, the look releasing butterflies in your stomach.

“You probably asked them to check your ID to follow all the rules, Agent Peña. Never pictured you becoming a cop when I knew you in high school, Javi.”

“You think I follow all the rules, hermosa?”

You grin and shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to hear him better as he continues.

“Hate to tell you, but I am not above breaking some rules to get the results I want. Not too far from the ‘me’ you knew in high school.”

“Hm, guess I have a lot of catching up to do with you,” you nod to the bar across the wide dance floor, “Wanna grab a drink and chat? My treat.”

He rolls his eyes this time, shaking his head as he leans in, lips brushing your ear as he speaks to you, “Couldn’t live with myself if I let a woman as beautiful as you buy me a drink. You go find us somewhere to chat, I’ll grab us a drink.”

Goosebumps trail down your spine, nodding at the instructions and giving him your usual drink order. The two of you linger near each other in the middle of the sea of bodies before you step away first, brushing past him in search of somewhere for you to talk.

A couple of hours have passed since you and Javi have retreated to the corner of a booth in the back of the club, multiple empties on the table in front of you and a few tequila shots taken courtesy of both of your friend group’s happy for your little high school reunion.

Over the course of your catch-up, you’ve learned about his time in the DEA, now retired back to his father’s ranch in your hometown of Laredo. You could tell from the quip of his lip that he was omitting details at certain parts of the stories he told, likely covering up unsavory bits that would paint him in a bad light. It would have likely done little to quell the flames of lust that were licking inside of your torso, the slow and low lilt of his voice going straight to your core whenever he made a flirtatious comment or told a harrowing story about chasing down bad guys all around Colombia. You pictured him hot, sweaty, relieved with his chest heaving, immediately placing the visual in a different location — over you, under you, behind you. You weren’t picky in your choices.

 The long-abandoned high school crush you had on Javi came rearing back with a vengeance, heart rate pounding in your chest to the point you were convinced he could hear it over the music. It was an intimate position to be in, hip to hip with his arm around the back of the booth, leaning into each other's ears to speak, breath cascading over each other’s necks and shoulders.

You’d told him about your time post-high school, going to university not far from him in Texas, and receiving your degree. You’ve held a handful of jobs over the last fifteen years or so, ending up with a new position not too long ago. It brought you back to Laredo, purposefully, in order to care for your aging parents. Javier understood your troubles, despite the fact that Chucho was still healthy and working the ranch with him, he still felt the need to slow his father down by shouldering the majority of responsibilities to keep the business running.

Life was turning ordinary for the two of you, and surprisingly, the topic of marriage or partners or family of your own was not brought up until now.

“So, have you met anyone? Married, kids, the whole nine yards?” Javi questions, his eyes leaving your face to stare at the ice clinking around with the whiskey in his glass. It made you smile, his reservations in waiting for your answer. You’d wondered the same thing yourself — who had been lucky enough to lock down Javi Peña?

“Nope. Well, not right now. I actually was engaged in my early thirties to a guy I had met while living in Austin, but as it got more and more real that I would actually have to marry him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t supposed to happen. Turns out he was cheating on me for months with his coworker who he always went with on ‘business trips’. So, no marriage, and no kids for me.”

Javi’s eyes come back to you, sympathy washed over his features as his arm strewn across the back of the bench curls his hand to play with the hair at the back of your neck.

“Shit, I’m sorry, cariño. Sounds like a stupid motherfucker to mess things up with you.”

You wave off the comment, shrugging nonchalantly,  “Nah, I mean, clearly I’m not marriage material cause haven’t been snatched off the market still in years. And they actually ended up getting married, so it worked out for them in the end.”

“No, that’s total bullshit. You’re incredible — you were incredible already in high school, and now? Just another level.”

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand as you shake your head.

“Tell that to all the age-appropriate eligible bachelors. If there even are any at this point,” you say with a laugh to break the tension building, swallowing down your nerves as Javi locks his eyes on you, raking them down and back up quickly. His tongue prods out to swipe his lips, shrugging his shoulders as he looks back into your eyes.

“I’m an eligible bachelor. Age-appropriate, if that’s a dealbreaker.”

“Oh, c’mon, no one’s got their ring on you? Really?” you can hear how surprised you sound, unable to hide the disbelief in your tone.

Javier laughs and keeps his eyes on you as he speaks with a smirk playing at his lips, “Nope…Well, not sure if you remember her, but I did almost get married to Lorraine. Told me she was pregnant, and I was gonna do the right thing. The night before the wedding she told me she got her period…” he takes a swig of his whiskey, eyes falling from yours to the table in front of you, “Left her standing at the altar alone the next morning. I was back at my pop’s house, packing up to take my job with the DEA. Left the US not long after.”

“So, someone’s nearly reigned me in, but didn’t work out.”

“Did you want to get married and have a baby? Or do you still want to, I guess?” you pause and internally scold yourself for the overly personal question spurred on by your inebriation, “I’m sorry, Javi, that is not my place to ask when I’m drunk off my ass.”

“S’alright, cariño. I asked you first, technically. Only fair I answer, too,” he smiles to himself before setting his glass down, turning in his seat to face you more, “I did want to back then, just didn’t feel right with Lorraine. Kinda like what you said, it felt off the closer it got to actually doing it and when I saw an out, I took it…But now? Now, I am—God, it’s a little embarrassing, but yeah I do want all that. The wife, kids. T-ball practices or dance recitals and date nights. I dunno, though, think it might be too late for an old bastard like me.”

A hand of yours rests on his midthigh, shaking your head with an encouraging smile, “Definitely not too late for you, Javi. You’re a handsome, great man. Bet I’ll be hearing around town that you’re shacked up in the next year,” a soft laugh falls from your lips and Javi grins while his eyes drink you in, lingering at your lips. The heat of his stare makes you squirm, adjusting in your seat and sipping your drink.

Just when the tension was mounting from the moment, your best friend from college walks over, one of Javi’s friends following and both approaching your small corner of the club. They tell you that both of your groups are heading back to the hotel, the same hotel, and you deflate as you start to gather your bag next to you. Javi’s hand reaches out and squeezes your thigh gently to grab your attention, one look shared between the two of you that was an invitation to stay and keep talking. With a smile, you silently agree and tell your friends that you’ll make it back together.

Your best friend dawdles, and as you’re about to tell her that you’ll be alright, Javi reassures her with his kind smile, “I’ll get her back safely, you have my word. Fought off drug dealers and soldiers and a few sicarios in my day. She will be back at the hotel and chipper for the girls’ birthday brunch tomorrow. Cross my heart.”

Both you and your friend laugh, standing to give her a hug goodnight and telling her that you’ll be just fine, to which she replies, “Probably more than just fine. Tell Javi he can join us for brunch when you wake up with him tomorrow.”

You gasp and roll your eyes as she walks away with a laugh, heading out of the bar with your friends before you sit back with Javi, jumping into a whole different conversation.

The early hours of the morning have crept in, cool desert air from around the city wisping around your skin as you stroll down the strip with Javi. The two of you are leaning against each other in a drunken stupor, giggling wildly as you talk to each other and get stares from other people out at this hour — which is a lot, it’s Vegas.

Javi’s arm is around your waist, hand curled at your hip and his fingers rub gentle circles that send your nerves firing throughout your entire body. Your own arm is resting against his back, feeling those same muscles as earlier. He’s strong, steady, even in his inebriated state, and safe. In any other situation, you’d be anxious to walk back to the hotel along the street, too many characters milling about for the alcohol to keep you calm. But with Javi next to you, there’s a freedom in it, the way he makes you feel protected despite the short amount of time you’ve been reunited. Even in school, he was a troublemaker but only in the way that he stood up for people, got into fights on behalf of the underdogs, always concerned with fairness and righteousness. It was honorable, that he always was a protector, wanting to do right by people that were affected by those doing wrong.

Ramblings about life filled the space between you two, bright lights blinding you against the midnight skies. Javier is in the middle of saying something when you stop in your tracks, the sight across the street captivating your attention as your own light blinks with an idea in your head.

It’s a small wedding chapel, a carport out in the front with a classic car parked in the middle, and kitschy decorations littering the outside with a hot pink and cream color scheme painting the facade.

Javier walks a step or two before his arm around your waist tethers him back, his eyes looking at you before turning toward the opposite side of the street. He laughs to himself, tucking into your side again as smiles.

“How many people got married tonight, d’you think?” He leans his head to the side to rest on yours, the small affection making your idea seem even better in your wasted mind.

“I dunno. But I could guarantee two if you wanna,” your head turns to him on your left, a Cheshire grin stretched across your face as a giggle slips from your chest. Javi looks at you, confused for a moment before it all clicks, and his expression turns to one of surprise.

“You’d wanna do that? With me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We spent the whole night talking about how we both wanted to get married and have kids and all that, why not do it with each other? I mean, I had a massive crush on you in high school. Would be my dreams back then coming true,” you say with a laugh, biting your lip as you await his response.

It’s a beat of silence as he contemplates the offer, surveying between you and the chapel across from you.

“Fuck it. Let’s get married, cariño.”

“Yes! Let’s go before we chicken out,” an infectious smile fills your face, eyes crinkling as you rush across the street with him, hand-in-hand. Upon entering the chapel lobby, you’re greeted by a chipper employee behind a large reception desk. The two of you give over your IDs, anxiously waiting with each other’s hands linked together, sharing quiet, excited laughs. Once everything is settled, the employee directs you back to a room to get ready in, offering a too-small suit jacket to Javi that sits two inches above his wrists, a sight that sends you into a fit of laughter.

He brushes off your teasing and takes the bouquet that another employee arranges quickly for you, holding it as you lean over and primp yourself in the mirror by cleaning up your makeup and fixing your hair.

Javier stands behind you, watching you with tender eyes and a faint smile on his face. Making eye contact with him in the reflection as you finish, heat spreads at the back of your neck and across your cheeks at the way he’s looking at you.

“Ready, hermosa?”

Turning around and standing to your full height in front of him, bouquet held out to you. You take it, wrapping your hand around his and nodding.

“Ready, Peña.”

“Think I should be saying that to you,” he winks and drops his hand from yours, turning and grabbing something off of a table across the room. Crossing back to you he holds up a costume veil, eyebrows raised in questioning, “Wanna complete the look?”

“Of course. Don’t think I would look like a bride without it since I’m not wearing any white,” you grin and stand still in front of him, letting him put the headband securely behind your ears. Delicate fingers lift the veil to cover your face, a warm, closed-lip smile lighting up his eyes.

“Haces una novia hermosa. You make a beautiful bride.”

The sincerity laced in his voice despite the drunken haze chokes the words in your throat, only answering by taking his hand with your free one and leading him over to the chapel’s double doors. He gives you one last look before slipping in first when you’re called up, whispering to you, “See you in there. Don’t get cold feet now.”

After a couple of minutes, the doors open for you again, and immediately you’re faced with Javi standing next to a costumed Elvis impersonator. The traditional wedding march playing through tinny speakers, everything overwhelming you to the point that when you make eye contact with Javi, the pair of you break out into uncontrollable giggles. His shoulders shake as tears prick your eyes from the ridiculousness, your tipsy minds thinking everything is extra funny.

Calmed down at the altar, you stand across from him and half listen to the officiant attempt to maintain his accent throughout the ceremony. Each of you exchanges drunken repetitive vows, given cheap rings that were paid for at the front desk. Javi slips yours on and squeezes your hand, giving you his to do the same.

At that moment, rings and vows given to each other, knock-off Elvis pronounces you husband and wife by the power vested in him by the state of Nevada.

“You may now kiss your wife, dude.”

Javier chuckles as he reaches up to lift your veil away from your face, leaning in as he drops it at the back of your head. One hand cups your jaw, the other dropping to your hip to pull you in closer. He catches your lips in a kiss that’s all teeth from your smiles, mouths relaxing as he deepens the embrace when your arms wrap around his neck and the flowers rest at his back.

He huffs into your mouth, tongue tracing your lip and slipping against yours when you open your mouth for him. A soft sigh melts your body into his touch, the two of you completely wrapped up in each other.

“Alright, alright, lovebirds. We got another wedding to get to so you guys are gonna have to quit sucking face in here and take your party of two outside. Congrats,” the officiant has dropped his character, Javier pulling away from you and glancing at him.

“Thanks, Presley. See ya,” he calls out over his shoulder as he takes your hand, receding down the aisle, throwing off his jacket, plus your veil and bouquet on the desk as you make your way out of the chapel building completely.

It’s a rush from the elevator when it reaches Javi’s floor, limbs fumbling over each other as you frantically stumble down the hallway, mouths attach in a potent kiss. Javier’s touch is only adding to your intoxication, clouding your mind with his wandering hands and his tongue against yours.

He grips your waist as he reaches his room, pressing you against the solid wood door as he exhales into your mouth. Pulling away mere millimeters to speak, his low and gravelly voice rasps out to you.

“Front right pocket. Room key’s in my wallet,” he kisses you again, hands moving from your waist to your ass as his lips trail from your mouth and along your jaw. Your own fingers slip into the front pocket he directed you to, taking out his wallet and attempting to fish out the plastic card as his teeth graze at the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Fuck, Javi…Here.” You pass the key card to him and he unlocks the door, wrapping his arm around your back and walking you inside the room as he catches your lips in a rich kiss, a whimper slipping from your mouth and into his. The plush mattress hits the back of your legs and he lets you go to fall backward onto the bed, staring down at you with his chest rising and falling quickly and swollen lips parted.

“Cristo, eres hermosa, cariño. Te deseo tanto. Puedo tenerte, mi esposa?” Javier lifts one knee to rest on the mattress, leaning over you and pressing open-mouth kisses at the open chest of your night-out dress.

“Javi, that all sounds very sexy, but I think I need a translation,” you sigh as he tugs the neckline of your dress down, exposing your bare breast to the chilled, conditioned air. Javier chuckles as you gasp from his thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple, darkened eyes combing up to meet yours with a devilish smirk.

“I said ‘Christ, you’re gorgeous, darling…’”

His fingers slip a strap of your dress off of your shoulders. 

“And ‘I want you so bad…’”

The other strap.

“And I asked ‘Can I have you, my wife?’”

With one tug to the body of your dress, your full chest is bared to Javi, who in that moment you realize is technically your husband.

Your sexy, heroic, competent, charming husband.

Damn, your drunk self kind of hit the jackpot.

“Can I, baby?” he asks again, one hand reaching down to palm his growing bulge in his jeans. The sight makes you salivate, this man above you asking to have you, telling you how badly he wants you, calling you his wife.

A rush of arousal floods between your thighs and you nod, lifting yourself to sit up on your elbows under him.

“How do you say ‘my husband’ in Spanish?”

Javi’s smirk deepens, the dimple in his right cheek cavernous with the satisfaction painted on his face.

“Mi esposo.”

“You can have me any way you want, mi esposo.”

The groan that comes from Javier is guttural, as if something is unleashed in him and rumbles it’s way out. He moves with a fervor after those words, stripping you of your dress and lacey panties, carelessly tossing them aside. You sit up fully, working his button-up undone as he fumbles with his belt and jeans. As you push the material off of his shoulders, he kicks off his pants, left naked from his lack of underwear.

You chuckle softly at the choice and bite your lip, looking up at him playfully.

“Guess you’re always prepared for a quickie.”

He smirks with a slow nod, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Didn’t know where the night would take me. And now I am incredibly glad for my choice.”

A gasp leaves your lips as he kisses you passionately, pushing you back to the mattress as he climbs over you. Your legs spread for him, leaving him room to nestle between your thighs. Everything is blurred in your inebriated minds, burning touches on sensitive skin, teeth grazing with purple bruises left in their wake.

His fingers slide through your arousal, collecting your wetness with two of his fingers, slipping in and out of you at an expert pace. The heel of his hand rubs against your clit, the combined stimulations and your laxed body working you up quickly to a peak. Moans and whimpers of his name fill the space between you, coming down as he guides you through your orgasm.

With the fingers once inside of you, he strokes himself, glistening in the low lighting coming from the neon outside on The Strip. Your fingers dance across his strong chest, feeling the muscles of his biceps flex under your touch.

“You okay, amor?”

His voice is hushed, tender and sweet.

“I’m okay. More than okay. I want you, please, Javi. Please, mi esposo.”

“Fuck, say it again, cariño.”

The head of his cock pushes into your tight walls, feeling the delicious stretch of him inside as he gives you only a few inches of himself.

“Mi esposo.”

A moan slips from his mouth, kneeling between your legs and filling you completely with one strong thrust.

“Again.”

“Mi esposo.”

A hypnotizing rhythm is found in his hips, fucking you deeper with each hard snap of his lower half. His thighs hit against the backs of yours with slaps, alternating with your own moans and whimpers, deep grunts from Javi.

“Fuck…” he breathes with a long exhale, head rolling back to reveal veins in his neck. Fingers grip at your thighs, one drifting up to toy with your nipple before it drops between the two of you to circle your clit.

“Javier—Fuck, gonna come…” you whine, eyes screwing shut as the coil inside of you tightens with a burn.

“Eyes on me, cariño. Wanna see your face when you come for me.”

At the next hit of himself against that particular spot inside of you, your eyes snap open as the coil snaps, walls clenching around him with repeated moans.

“Oh fuck, Javi, yes…”

“Good girl, good fucking girl…”

With a few more thrusts, he spills inside of you, twitching as he lets go of a moan of your name. Once the both of you have come down from the highest peaks of the night, Javier slowly pulls out of you and falls back to the bed.

“Do you think we’re gonna remember any of this when we wake up?” you ask, laughing softly as you slip under the sheets with Javier, fatigue catching up with you from the long night.

“God, I hope so. Don’t want to ever forget anything that’s happened since we got into this room,” Javi winks as he extends an arm for you to cuddle into, faint laughter from both of you.

“I can’t believe we got married by an Elvis impersonator.”

“And he was so bad at it.”

The two of you are now in a fit of sleepy giggles, laying your head on his chest and his hand behind you playing with your hair.

“Go to sleep, cariño. Got breakfast to get to in a few hours.”

You groan and close your eyes, adjusting your position next to him.

“You’re invited too, y’know.”

“I’ll gladly come with. Now sleep, esposa.”

“Night, Mr. Peña.”

“Night, Mrs. Peña.”

Between the two of you, you were able to piece together most of the previous night. The memory of the horrible Elvis impersonator and the wild chapel interior made you laugh hysterically again, Javi wiping the tears from your eyes when you couldn’t stop.

Once everything had been recounted that you could remember, save the details of the last activities of the night — those were certainly memorable, just not spoken out loud — Javi studied his ring before taking your left hand with his, eyes trained on the two pieces of jewelry laying together.

“So, what do we do?”

You’re silent for a few beats of your heart, loud in your ears as you sit up, pulling the sheet to cover your chest and facing the man next to you.

“No idea.”

The next words were laced over each other, your voices interrupting the other:

“Is it weird to say that I don’t regret it?”

“I don’t know if I really want to retract it completely.”

You laugh out of the tension built, shrugging your shoulders and nodding your head for Javi to speak first.

“I don’t know if I really want to say that it was a horrible idea, that we should completely backtrack it…” He cards his fingers through his hair nervously.

“I mean, yeah, probably shouldn’t have this be legally binding marriage for the rest of our lives, but maybe we could, I don’t know, try some version of us?”

Relief washes over you at his thoughts, fiddling with the ring on your finger.

“I agree. I think just like, being married fully after this would be silly, but it also doesn’t mean that if we do something about that, we would never have to see each other again.”

“Exactly,” he nods confidently, eyes locking on yours before they drop to your lips. You make the move to lean in, capturing him in a slow, morning kiss much different than yours from late last night.

When you pull away, Javi’s smirk is plastered on his face, hand holding yours and running his thumb over the ring.

“So…an annulment? And then a date when we’re back in Laredo?”

“I’d really like that, Mr. Peña,” you say with a grin, pecking his lips.

“Alright, it’s a plan then,” he nudges his nose against yours before giving you one last kiss, “Now I promised I would get you to the birthday brunch, so let’s get this show on the road, Mrs. Peña.”

tagging some mooties: @beskarandblasters @swiftispunk @joelsversion @lunapascal @addictedtotlou @deathwife @johnwatsn @darkroastjoel @pedrospartner @atinylittlepain @soaringcloud @wannab-urs @javiscigarette @yazsos @northernbluess @pr0ximamidnight @theelishad @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @midnightswithdearkatytspb @ladamedusoif @cannolighost @undrthelights @jksprincess10 @bearsbeetsbeskar @perotovar @leslie-lyman @cupofjoel @egcdeath @mrsquill

[bosinclairsgff]

Lady Slashers Meeting their girlfriend

Includes: Baby Firefly, Amanda Young, Amber Freeman

Warnings: saw trap, hinting at kidnap

A/n I have the biggest crush on Baby

- You met Baby when you were hitchhiking through Texas. You had been trying to make your way home to whatever state you live in and somehow found yourself standing next to Baby. “Hey there! Where ya heading?” She giggles. “Just trying to make it home to (your state).” You respond. After you guys make conversation, she realizes she’s taken a liking to you. She invites you over for the night. You accept and when a car pulls up to give you a ride you both get in together.

- When you make it to her house she offers you a cup of hot chocolate, which you accept happily. Baby sits next to you on the couch in the living room and turns on the TV. You aren’t really paying attention to the movie playing. Your more interested in how cool her house is. It’s like a museum of oddities and curiosity! “I love your house Baby, it’s truly amazing.” You say looking at her. Her eyes light up! “Thank you sugar, that’s so sweet.” She smiles.

- After an hour or so you guys decide to head to bed. Baby insists you sleep in her room with her. Which you absolutely don’t mind. Her room is just as eccentric as the rest of the house. You can tell she really loves baby dolls. “Ready for bed sugar? I got extra blankets just in case ya got cold.” Baby says. You nod and thank her. “Which side of the bed do you want?” You ask. She laughs at this question. “I don’t care honey. I’ll sleep anywhere as long as I’m sleeping with you.” She smirks playfully. You can feel your face heating up. Baby slips under the covers on the left side of the bed as you take the right. You both stay silent for a few minutes but baby takes the roll in ruining said silence. “Ya know…we could cuddle if ya like to.” She turns to face you. You guys are inches away from each other, you can feel her breath on your face. She smells like liquor and hot chocolate. A mixture you normally wouldn’t like, but coming from her you don’t mind. “Okay..I wouldn’t mind that.” You can feel yourself turning a bright red. She slips her hand over your waist and pulls you towards her. Baby let’s out a soft sigh as she closes her eyes to fall asleep. As she falls asleep first you follow shortly after.

- The next day you guys get to know each other better. Learning all her likes a dislikes, meeting her brothers and her mama. You and mama get along very well. You stay with the family for a few days really feeling at home and at peace with Baby. However, all good things must come to an end. “I really should get back home Baby.” You say softly one day as you girls are laying in bed. She sits up immediately. “What! Why? I thought ya liked it here sweetheart.” She pouts. “I want to stay but what about my life and my responsibilities?” You tell her as you rub small circles on her hand. Baby thinks for a moment about what to say. “You can make a life here. I’m not letting you leave me. I want to be with you and I know you want to be with me.” She says in almost a dark tone. You had to be honest with yourself, it scared you seeing her like this but also made you feel safe knowing how much she cherishes you. “Well I suppose if you won’t let me leave I’m stuck here, with you…which isn’t so bad I guess.” You smile. Baby’s whole demeanor changes, she’s full of happiness and love again. Without much warning she leans in and kisses your lips. You of course accept the kiss graciously, kissing her back.

- After a month of living with the family you and Baby officially started dating. By this time you had found out their dirty little secrets. You couldn’t do much about it, yes you loved Baby but she did tell you that you couldn’t leave her.

- You had seen on the news about how there was a serial killer on the loose called Jigsaw. You were never to worried you’d run into him, I mean you were a nobody really. All you did was go to work and come home, on the rare occasion you’d go out with a few girlfriends but never often. That’s actually how all this started, you had just started walking home from the bar when someone in a pig mask came out of nowhere, stabbing you in the neck with something. After that assault you quickly started to get drowsy, within seconds you were fast asleep. When you awoke you found yourself bond to a chair, as your hands had been duct taped to the arms. On your head was a metal contraption. When you started to panic a TV in the corner turned on only to show a puppet. This puppet explained that he simply wanted to “play” a game. You have 60 seconds to free yourself from the reverse bear trap, as he called it, or it would permanently open your jaw. As in your head would be torn apart. To escape this trap you had to remove the key to the lock keeping it on you from a man’s stomach. Before you could truly take all of this in the TV cut off leaving you to start your game. As soon as you escaped the chair a timer started. You frantically tried the get the bear trap off without a key, it wouldn’t budge. You knew what you had to do. When you had finished getting the key and getting the trap off just in time, you passed out. Awaking to the fluorescent lights of a hospital room.

- Yes, you had survived the trap but you had been absolutely terrified of everything since that day. You were more great full for life, sure, you still always looked behind your shoulder and locked every door you entered. After a month or so you slowly started getting back into the groove of things. Which must be some cruel joke the universe was playing on you because as soon as things started to seem okay, you meet John. Who, as you came to know was behind the traps and murders. Though, he claims he never murdered anyone. John wanted you to help him with his work, make the traps, kidnap the people. You of course wanted absolutely nothing to do with that. You weren’t a psychopath who enjoyed hurting people. You loved people. However you didn’t have much of a choice.

- You had joined Johns team of apprentices, which is where you met her. Amanda Young. At first she really didn’t seem to like you all that much. She’d do anything in her power to absolutely avoid you. At first you took it personally but then you saw how she treated Mark. In that case you were thankful for how she treated you. Slowly you started to get her to open up. Saying hi to her when you would come in to work on traps or clean up the warehouse. Grabbing her a coffee when you got one for yourself. Eventually you two started to hangout even outside of working for John.

- After a while of constantly spending time with her you realized how much you liked her. You started to wonder if, maybe, she felt the same towards you. That’s when you decided to ask her one night. You guys normally hung out at your apartment, watching movies and eating unhealthy snacks. You let her choose the movie. As you guys were sitting on the couch, laying on opposite sides. You sat up, paused the movie and looked at her. “Mandy, I have something to tell you and ask you.” You state while looking down at your hands. What’s wrong? Did something happen!?” She questions with a worried expression. “What..no everything is fine don’t worry. I just. I wanted to tell you that, I have serious feelings for you and I was wondering if maybe you spelt the same.” You look up at her with a red face. For a moment she stays silent, which you internally start panic. “I-it’s okay! Let’s just forget I said anything.” You reach for the TV remote with was laying close to her. You lean over to get it and she grabs your face planting a kiss directly on your soft lips. Of course your taken completely off guard, not in a bad way though. After a second of pure bliss she ends the kiss. “I have feelings for you too y/n I was just scared I’d lose you if I said anything.” Amanda says shyly.

- You two officially started dating that night.

Amber Freeman

- You had just moved to Woodsboro, and were very nervous starting at a new high school. Yeah, you were a senior but it was still scary. The first day you started you bumped into a girl named Amber, at first you thought she may yell at you as she looked so intimidating. Yet all she did was smile and tell you it’s not a problem. In your last class of the day you saw a familiar face upon the unfamiliar setting. It was Amber sitting alone in the back of the class. You made your way to her and asked if you might sit next to her. She happily made space for you. Over the next month you two become good friends. Exchanging numbers as to keep contact even outside of the class. She texted you good morning and goodnight everyday. Amber made you feel wanted and safe, no one would fuck with her or you. Even her friend group liked you.

- You guys would usually hangout all together as a group but there were times when she just wanted to be alone with you. She’d treat you to a horror movie or sneak over late at night. Amber just loved alone time with you, where she knew you were completely hers. You started to notice little hints that she liked you. Such as when she’d hold your hand when you guys watch scary movies, or how she got very jealous whenever you talked to other girls. There are even times where she’d rest her hand on your leg while you guys ate lunch in the cafeteria.

- One night at a party you both had been glued to each other all night. You found yourself cuddling with her on the couch and watching whatever was on TV. She was sitting up, you were in her lap and she was playing with your hair. You can’t remember the last time you felt this happy. After a while of this she suddenly stopped and told you to look at her. Confused, you did as she said. Sitting up you looked at her with tired eyes. “Is everything okay?” You questioned. She’s nods in response. “There’s something I need to ask you y/n, I’ve been thinking about it for a few weeks.” Amber says looking into your eyes. “What is it? You can ask me anything.” You say. She stays silent for a moment, thinking. “I want you to be my girlfriend. I really, really like you and I want you to be mind.” She says while looking down. You can’t believe what you just heard. You almost don’t at first thinking maybe you did fall asleep and this is a dream. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend!” You softly yell. Her whole face lights up and she smiles. Leaning in you kiss her on the lips softly while cupping her face with your hands.

[spriteofmushrooms]

Pls… pls elaborate 👁️👁️ so I can change my answer (in spirit) from crying a few days ago to crying right now!

Jiang Wanyin lies broken on the ground. Jin Ling, screaming, swings Suihua at the monstrous yao he'd just been pushed away from, the one that killed his jiujiu. Lan Jingyi should help, should move, but--anything that could kill Jiang Wanyin--

A clarity bell chimes as Lan Sizhui begins to play his guqin. The moment breaks, and Lan Jingyi leaps to flank the yao.

The battle is blue-lit by their signal flare and the full moon. Starbright sword flares sweep across the forest. Flashes of Jin Ling's qi, the golden brown of wutong leaves in autumn, bury themselves in the yao with every qi-laced arrow.

But it's only once Wen Ning holds the yao still that Wei Wuxian, responding to their flare via Hanguang-jun, eviscerates it with his trapped ghosts.

Hanguang-jun who is staring where Jiang Wanyin lies, his white robes bathed in red.

"Ah, stay back, a-Ling," a man's mirthful voice says. "Your jiujiu would be upset if I caught you, too."

Jin Ling starts "who the fuck" but is interrupted by Hanguang-jun's "Wei Ying."

Lan Jingyi turns to see Jin Ling's silhouette limned in red; Jiang Wanyin's body transformed by red; and a transparent youth in YunmengJiang-style robes sitting astride Jiang Wanyin, as bright and red as the setting sun, surrounded by a rainbow whirlwind of qi.

"Lan Zhan," the boy says laconically as a nearby tree cracks and falls. "Don't be boring for once, alright?"

As Lan Jingyi watches, the boy rests one hand on Jiang Wanyin's upper dantian and plunges the other into the swirling qi around them until all transforms to red. Another snap breaks the night, and Lan Jingyi realizes.

The little qi lights are from plants, bugs, and lesser spirits; the youth is draining the forest. An ash-black circle spreads from Jiang Wanyin.

Whose chest is moving.

"Jiang Cheng, wake up, ah? You're going to be late if you stay in bed all day." With the stolen vitality pulsing through him, the youth's features are clearer. He's handsome, his face much sweeter than Jiang Wanyin's sharp beauty. Mischief curls at the edges of his smile.

From Lan Jingyi's side, Wei Wuxian says coldly, "How often have you done this to him? Forcing foreign qi into his system will inevitably cause backlash."

The youth's smile sharpens. "Do you care, Wei-wanbei?" Without moving his hand, his thumb caresses Jiang Wanyin's cheek. "Besides, if I make it mine before I give it to him, is it really so different from spending years coalescing it into a golden core? His body knows me well."

"Gusu can integrate this part of your soul with the rest of you," Hanguang-jun says.

The youth laughs, and Wei Wuxian says "don't bother, Lan Zhan."

Ignoring his cultivation partner's advice, Hanguang-jun continues, "You will never rest until all pieces of your soul are joined. Let go of Jiang Wanyin, and come to me."

Jin Ling shifts. "You're healing jiujiu, right?"

"I am," the youth says, turning away from Hanguang-jun.

Jin Ling moves between Jiang Wanyin and Hanguang-jun, Suihua bare in his hand. "Let him do what he wants."

"How many times must Wei Ying destroy himself to fulfill a life debt to the dead?" Hanguang-jun demands, hand on Bichen.

Lan Sizhui finally speaks. "Hanguang-jun, Jin Ling, shouldn't we wait until we know more? None of us have the expertise to weigh in on Wei-xiao-gongzi's situation, do we? Applying theory without evidence could be harmful, too, Hanguang-jun." Then the traitor turns to Lan Jingyi. "If Zidian hasn't expelled Wei-xiao-gongzi, doesn't that mean Jiang-zongzhu is not possessed?"

"Yes," Lan Jingyi tries, then clears his throat. "Yes, Zidian wouldn't let its master be possessed. This must be something else."

A small voice interrupts the argument. "Wei... Wuxian?"

"Can't you call me shixiong just once, Jiang Cheng?"

"Started training first," Jiang Wanyin whispers.

"How would you know when my parents started training me? Especially since I'm older, and my mother is from a different tradition. Perhaps Baoshan Sanren starts her disciples at their hundred day celebration, hmm?"

"Stupid," Jiang Wanyin says. Then, "You're dead. Saw it."

"That was just my idiot body," the youth says with a smirk.

"Fuck you," Wei Wuxian spits.

At the noise, Jiang Wanyin's eyes flick to them. "A-Ling?"

"I'm fine, jiujiu!"

"Everyone's here because it's so rare to you lazing around," the youth says. "Do you think I could sell tickets? See Jiang Cheng take a break, only fifty tael!"

"Jiang-shixiong," Jiang Wanyin says, eyes back on the youth, taking huge rasping breaths between phrases. "Sounds better. Sixty tael, maybe."

"If he doesn't recognize you, then you don't know what this will do to him long-term," Wei Wuxian says.

"Oh, I do. I just wipe his memory every time. It keeps Jiang Cheng from digging me out of him, you know?"

"What."

The youth smiles beatifically down at Jiang Wanyin. "Did you think you got away with all of your not-quite-suicide, shidi? Did you think there wasn't a cost to being careless with yourself? Poor Pan Fu,¹ did his hero really not know what he gave his life to?"

"No!" Jiang Wanyin's fingers twitched, but even now his arm was more gore than whole. "Stop, stop. Shixiong, stop. Pan Fu, Pan Fu..."

"Still sad about that brat even now? Why am I not surprised. He wasn't even that strong of a cultivator; he just reminded you of me. Let go already."

"I raised him," Jiang Wanyin cries. "Don't, please, please."

Merciless, the youth bent down until their faces are centimeters apart. "What can you do to stop me? What have you ever been able to do against me, shidi?"

"Let me die, let me die, let me die, please let me die."

For a moment, the youth only gazes at Jiang Wanyin. "No," he says, and pours more of the forest into his shidi.

¹ Pan Fu is from this ficlet. No, Wei Wuxian wasn't jealous, why would he be? Pan Fu was simply to hand when Jiang Cheng threw himself into danger.

(To protect Pan Fu. But why should that matter? Jiang-zongzhu can't die for one of his hundreds of disciples. What would they do without him, hmm?)

[ateotd-izzy]

anti-hero | joel dawson x fem!reader

“i wake up screaming from dreaming one day i’ll watch as you’re leaving and life will lose all its meaning”

after everything that had happened to you over the last 7 years in the literal apocalypse, you’ve developed some serious issues with trust.

“it’s me, hi, i’m the problem, it’s me”

and maybe a few insecurities too. but that could just be your fault.

“at tea time everybody agrees”

so when you and your boyfriend joel go out to the surface to find his ex-girlfriend aimee, the only person left from his old life, you start feeling like, well, a problem.

“i’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror”

warnings: insecure reader?? idk none really

“it must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero”

☾

you followed behind joel as he walked ahead, looking down at the map your colony had given the two of you.

he was so dead-set on going to find aimee and her colony that you only went with him because you knew there was a chance that if you didn’t, you would never see him again.

but there he was, happy and oblivious as he walked down the overgrown street.

what if he didn’t want you there? what if he just wanted to go alone to get away from you? what if he wanted to leave you behind? what if he still liked aimee? what if-

“y/n?”

you looked up to see joel staring back at you expectantly. he had stopped walking and was now looking back at you.

“hmm?”

“i asked if you’re okay.” he repeated, taking a few steps over to you. “are you?”

“yeah, joel, i’m fine.” you smile at him and he smiles back.

“you sure?” he asked, pushing a bit of hair away from your eyes.

“yes, i’m sure.”

“good.” he pecked your lips before taking your hand in his. “come on.”

he seemed like he still loved you, but what if he was just pretending because you were there and he didn’t want to hurt your feelings? what if he’s just a really good actor?

you tried to push those thoughts from your head. at least for the time being.

the more your trip had gone on, the worse you felt.

you had major anxiety over the entire situation, and you felt horrible because the closer you got to the beach meant the closer you were to aimee.

and you could not stop thinking about how either of you could die at any moment, even with the help of two strangers you had met.

joel seemed over the moon the closer you got to the beach and he would keep on talking about aimee as you walked.

“you know, she actually got me these pencils.” joel told you as he drew the large frog-like creature the two of you had encountered just a few days earlier into his book.

the dog you had found, boy, was curled up by your leg as you ate.

clyde and minnow, the two strangers who had been helping the two of you survive for the last day or so, were sat on the opposite side of the fire.

“yeah, you mentioned that already, kid.” clyde mumbled, his mouth full of the beans he was eating. “i think your girlfriend’s getting sick of it.”

your head shot up, scaring boy for a moment, while joel’s turned to look at you.

“i’m fine. i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you shrugged it off, even if it were true.

you didn’t need joel to know about your worries or insecurities when it came to aimee.

he just seemed so excited and you felt like maybe you were the one thing that was stopping him from feeling happy.

so instead you focused on the dog in your lap, stroking and playing with boy until your small group had to leave.

as clyde and minnow led, boy running circles around the young girl, joel fell back to walk beside you.

“what’s going on with you?” he asked softly. “you okay?”

you nodded and joel gave you a look.

“i’m fine.” you insisted.

“you know you can talk to me… right?”

his words sounded genuine, and his facial expression was easily readable. he looked concerned.

“yeah, of course.” you put on a smile. “don’t worry, joel.”

you were no longer with clyde and minnow when you and joel reached the old broken down motel you decided to stay at for the night.

it was storming outside as you, your boyfriend, and your dog ran for shelter.

joel had been extra happy since he had killed one of the monsters and saved boy.

“wow.” joel breathed out, looking at the rain, and you tore your eyes away from him to look out at the sky.

rain was something you had missed from the outside world.

“you know, i haven’t felt the rain in seven years.” joel said to boy and you just kept watching the storm. “pretty cool. pretty cool.”

joel then wrapped his arms around your body and sat his chin on your shoulder. he pressed a short kiss to your neck, and you didn’t move.

your attention was entirely focused on the rain. you had forgotten how much you had loved it.

back when you were a teenager, you used to sit by your window whenever it would storm and just watch the rain, soft music playing from your headphones.

it was your favorite weather.

“how’re you doing?” joel asked quietly and you turned your head a little.

“i’m fine.” you responded, ignoring the few tears that had pricked in your eyes due to all the emotions you had been feeling.

“hello.” a sudden robotic voice spoke from behind you and joel spun around, letting his arms fall from your waist.

joel started walking inside, towards the voice, and you sat down, watching the rain fall.

you could hear some kind of electronic whirring, but didn’t turn your head.

“holy shit. you’re alive.” joel’s voice came from behind you. “i mean… you’re on.”

“i have 51 minutes of power left. what is your name?”

“uh, i’m joel. my name is joel.”

after he introduced himself, you turned your head. boy came and curled himself up on your lap, letting you pet him.

you didn’t listen to what was going on behind you until joel called your name.

“y/n, you gotta come in here.” he chuckled. “it’s… it’s a real mav1s.”

you stood up, being careful not to hurt boy as you did so, and walked inside, sitting beside joel on the springy mattress.

“mav1s, this is my girlfriend, y/n.” joel introduced with a smile.

“hello, y/n.”

“hi.” you mumbled.

“joel, besides conversing with me, for which i am eternally grateful, may i ask what you are doing outside of your colony?”

“yeah, um…”

“did you steal food?” the mav1s’s eyes narrowed.

“no. no, i didn’t steal any food.” joel responded and you couldn’t help but snicker at his tone.

joel looked at you, noticing the fact that he hadn’t heard you laugh in quite a while.

he then looked back at the mav1s. “y/n and i are actually… on a quest. to find a girl. um, an old friend of mine, actually.”

“how lovely! what is her name?”

“uh, aimee. with one i and two e’s.”

you kissed joel’s cheek and walked outside again. you sat on the ground, right on the edge of the concrete so the rain would fall against your head.

you hadn’t realized just how long you had zoned out for until you heard joel bringing mav1s outside and sitting her on the couch.

“i, uh, i need to pee.” joel picked up his crossbow and started walking away. “i’ll be back.”

was he leaving? oh, my god, was he ditching you?

“is something troubling you, y/n?” mav1s asked as you watched joel walk inside. “you can tell me anything, as i am an empathetic listener.”

you stood up as the rain slowed down and sat beside the mav1s on the old couch.

“also, my memory banks will be permanently erased in 14 minutes.”

you sat quietly for a moment before looking at the robot.

“did joel talk to you about aimee much?”

“only for a moment. he talked to her on his radio. why do you ask?”

“do you think he… likes her?” you asked.

“yes, i do think he likes his friend, as he-”

“no, no. no, mav1s, i meant, like… do you think he has, like, romantic feelings for her?”

“what makes you ask that?”

“before everything that happened, and before he met me in our colony, joel and aimee were together. aimee was his girlfriend before i was.” you sighed and leaned back in your seat. “i just… do you think he’s gonna leave me for her?”

“while he was talking to aimee on his radio, joel spoke very fondly of you.”

“am i crazy to be totally freaking out that joel’s gonna leave me forever?”

“what?” joel asked as he approached you again. you hadn’t even noticed him appear.

you went quiet. “nothing. it doesn’t matter.”

he sat himself beside you. “y/n, i’m never gonna leave you. why would you even think that?”

you looked down at your lap and shrugged. he crouched in front of you to meet your eyes.

you sighed at the confused look on his face. joel was always so clueless.

“aimee.” you answered.

“huh?”

“do you still have feelings for her?”

joel was silent for a moment, staring into your eyes. worry took over your features as you searched his face for some kind of answer to your question.

then a smile grew on joel’s face, which turned into a chuckle.

“what?” you asked and joel shook his head.

“nothing, you’re just funny.”

“joel, i’m being serious. why are you coming all this way for her? do you still have feelings for her?” you stared down at him and he rested his hands on your shoulders.

“y/n, i only have feelings for you. i swear.” his smile had softened as he spoke. “aimee’s someone from my past. yes, i dated her when i was 17, but that’s different now. i only want you. not aimee, not anybody.”

“then why..?”

“she’s my friend, and it’s been like 7 years. i just wanted to see what it’s like out here, and i haven’t seen anyone i knew before all this in over half a decade.”

joel frowned and put a hand on your cheek.

“i guess i just got excited. i forgot to ask if you were even okay with all this.”

a smile tugged on your lips. “it’s fine, joel.”

“i love you, okay?” he told you, his voice honest. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” you whispered out and leant forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

he hugged you tight and pulled you to your feet.

as he held you, he slowly rocked the two of you back and forth.

music slowly started to play, coming from mav1s, and joel smiled before spinning you around.

it was raining more, and joel pulled you out from under the shelter and into the rain.

his hair stuck to his face as he smiled, leaning forward and pecking you on the lips.

“you’re the only one for me, okay? don’t you ever doubt that for a second.” he mumbled into your ear as the two of you danced. “you’re my girl.”

you smiled and lifted your hand from his shoulder to push his hair from his eyes.

the two of you danced in the rain until mav1s’ power ran out and the music abruptly stopped.

taglist: @brvceyamada

a/n: how has this been in my drafts since june…

[peachdues]

Giving Kyojuro his own Christmas special, but you might see some familiar faces…

Feeling slightly awkward, you couldn’t help but glance around the room, eyes jumping from face to face in search of someone familiar. You landed on a mop of white hair lounging on the sectional across from you. Relief pooled in your stomach and you made to approach the man you recognized as one of Kyojuro’s closest friends, but you drew short. Just as you’d been ready to tap him on the shoulder, another woman emerged from the crowded kitchen opposite of you, eyes scanning the faces packed together in the crowded living room just as yours had, before they settled on the very same person you’d marked as the only semi-friendly face upon this isle of strangers on which you were now marooned.

And even if you’d reached him first, you were sure that any attention the man — Sanemi, that was his name — would have spared you would have dried up the moment he locked eyes with this new face, judging by the way he instantly straightened as she ducked and weaved gracefully through a the throng of tightly packed bodies.

Her smile was infectious as she reached the couch where Sanemi sat. Though you could only see the back of his head, the white-haired senior’s body language screamed that this girl — whomever she was — may as well have been the only person on earth at that moment. For even as she settled on the couch beside him and handed him a small can of soda she must have swiped from the kitchen, Sanemi’s attention remained wholly and utterly fixed on her.

Ever the voyeur, you felt a twinge of jealousy at the way the pair chatted for a moment before the girl leaned toward Sanemi, all soft, affectionate smiles, and tugged him in for a kiss. That jealousy bloomed into full, green envy at the way Sanemi instantly brought one hand to tenderly cup the side of her face, and did not move it even when their lips broke apart, his fingers gently caressing her cheek as she began to speak again.

You turned away, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at just how long you’d watched the couple’s interactions. But even still, jealousy continued to gnaw away at your chest.

How long had it been since someone looked at you like that?

Had you ever even known such adoration — as unabashed and intense, as what you’d just witnessed?

You knew the answer and for that reason and that reason alone, you needed a drink — and fast.

��—-

Kyojuro introduced you once more to Sanemi as well as the girl you’d observed him with earlier, whom he’d identified as Sanemi’s girlfriend. Her greeting was kind, and her smile had a striking warmth, though for the life of you, you could not place why it felt familiar.

It only struck you later that you did not know Sanemi’s girlfriend at all, even if you’d seen the chronicles of her lifetime friendship with Kyojuro — and the man whose lap she now sat upon in the living room — from the series of pictures he’d had plastered all over the refrigerator door at his apartment.

——

“Your friends are nice,” you hummed, fingers idly tracing circles over the mass of your flame-haired companions chest. “How long have she and Sanemi been together?”

Kyojuro’s own fingers twiddled idly with your hair. “Officially? Just over a year,” he dropped his hand to caress up and down your bare spine. “But they go way back. Since we were kids.”

“Childhood lovers?” You grinned. “That’s cute. Especially for someone as standoffish as Sanemi.”

Kyojuro’s fingers paused their exploration of your skin. “Not when it comes to her,” he said quietly after a moment. “Sanemi loves her more than the earth loves the sun.”

“And they’ve both been through a lot,” the sudden emotion which colored Kyojuro’s voice made you turn your face up to his, and you propped your chin up against his upper abdomen to study him. “They deserve the quiet life, now.”

dw I’m leaving them alone