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aquitainequeen · 4 months

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Here I am, hours later, still crying about Furiosa and Praetorian Jack. George Miller, Nico Lathouris, Anya Taylor-Joy and Tom Burke are geniuses. They completely sold me on just how much these characters loved each other.

Furiosa coming out of a nightmare, wielding a knife, to be caught by Jack. He doesn’t say it’s all right or that she’s safe, she doesn’t say it was just a bad dream. They don’t say anything. Jack eases her back down to her cot and they settle down, aware of each other.

Jack stitching up Furiosa’s shoulder in a hidden spot in the Citadel, Furiosa showing Jack the peach seed that she’s kept hidden in her hair for so long, proving that the Green Place is out there, asking him to come with her, pressing her forehead to his while cupping the back of his head, showing him her love in the manner of her people, and him returning the gesture. After fifteen years, she’s finally going home, and he’s coming with her.

And then...

Spoilers beyond here!!!

And then:

The battle of the Bullet Farm, which is where the strength and force of their love really started to batter me. Furiosa manages to avoid the ambush and get out of the Farm before the gate closes, and Jack could easily have slipped through the gate to join her, but he sees the enemy forces mustering and knows they’ll quickly be hunted down if there's nothing to stop their pursuers. He shoots off a green flare that clearly tells Furiosa to abandon him and get the hell out of there, intending to sacrifice himself so that she has a chance to escape and set off for the Green Place. Furiosa does drive off, but gets maybe five metres before she decides ‘fuck this’ and goes back in to try and save him. And she saves him from his pursuers and she saves him from falling to his death, and they get to their escape vehicle and drive off, with nary a word spoken or exchanged until they’re on the flat and heading for freedom. And even then, all that’s mentioned is what direction they should take to reach the Green Place. That's it. They don’t need anything else. They survived, they got out, they're together, they’re going to be all right.

And they almost make it. They almost get away.

When they’re captured by Dementus and forced onto their knees, there’s no special close up on them; mostly they’re on the edge of the shot while Dementus is ranting centre stage or screaming into their faces. They pay no heed to him. That love infuriates Dementus. He shrieks, he tears at them, but he can’t break them. He doesn’t matter. What matters is that they spend their last moments touching each other, leaning into each other, pressing their foreheads together, breathing deep, loving each other.

There are no parting words between Furiosa and Jack, no declarations or promises or screams of despair, but it hit me so hard and cut so deep that the second to last time we see Jack’s face, he’s craning desperately to see what’s happening to Furiosa, trying to get one final precious glimpse of her, before he’s quite literally dragged to his awful death.

We don’t see Furiosa’s reaction to her torture on multiple fronts, as she is strung up by her maimed arm and forced to watch Jack die. We’ve seen her scream and weep for her mother, but this moment is hers alone. It’s not for us.

How fitting it is that Jack saves Furiosa one last time, as his execution distracts Dementus and his crew from noticing that Furiosa has cut off her own arm to escape.

The last time we see Jack’s face is in Furiosa’s last nightmare.

Furiosa doesn’t mention Jack in her final showdown with Dementus, when she screams about her mother and her stolen childhood. But from what’s shown to us, I think that the spot in the Citadel when she imprisons Dementus and grows the peach tree in the midst of his emaciated, maggot-ridden body…is the same place where Jack stitched up her wounded shoulder, where she showed him the peach seed, where she asked him to come with her to the Green Place and he accepted, where she showed him her love in the manner of her people, where they embraced. Where she avenged herself and Jack, upon the man who destroyed their lives.

Where Furiosa now plucks the first fruit of the tree to bring to the Five Wives, whom she will bring with her to the Green Place.

#they make me cry #furiosa #furiosa spoilers #furiosa a mad max saga #furiosa: a mad max saga #furiosa a mad max saga spoilers #furiosa: a mad max saga spoilers #praetorian jack #anya taylor joy #anya taylor-joy #tom burke #george miller #nico lathouris #I also liked that the type of love was irrelevant #platonic or mentor or familial or romantic #doesn't matter #THEY LOVED EACH OTHER SO MUCH

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bookishbrewer · 4 months

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Cyn - The Disabled Neurodivergent Sibling:

⚠️ WARNING: this post will include discussion of bullying, ableism of numerous kinds, abuse, trauma.

First, let's establish 2 important terms for this post:

Zombie Drone - a state in which a worker drone is improperly disposed of. The WD enters a state of self-reboot as a result of: their core not being properly disconnected, the hardware not physically destroyed or a 606 error is interrupted. In a 0.7% chance, there's the risk of said WD rebooting with a "potential hazardous mutation".

The Absolute Solver - an incredibly advanced monstrous code and supernatural artificial intelligence that mutates in damaged forms of lesser AI.

Neurodivergent:

Cyn is first introduced in a flashback in episode 2, when she is scavenged & brought back to the Elliot mansion by Tessa. Right at the beginning, we the shy drone do something that may be interpreted as neurodivergent - imprinting:

Yes, I may be reading too deeply into this, but the fact that Cyn immediately focuses on the drone with the least threatening position & expression makes me think she may interpret him as the safest person to be around.

Just before this scene, we as the audience got to see the relationship between the main 3 drones Cyn will interact with in the mension:

1. N & V - they are the more meek & submissive types. They're both portrayed as sensitive, and have something of a crush on each other.

2. J - she's more of a mean 'older-bully-sibling' type. Not hasitating to command her peers, even using verbal & physical violence to do so.

So, in a sense, Cyn was right.

In ASD, for example, neurodivergent people might rely on siblings for interpreting social cues, deepening their connection. In addition, siblings may become key figures in routines and shared interests, leading to strong bonds (see for example how N reacts to Cyn showing him "those eyes" referring to her putting a picture of a golden retriever on her visor to convince him to go ask Tessa if they can attend the gala together. Or N suggesting the both of them will watch a movie together).

For another example, ADHD, siblings might help manage impulsivity & help with conflict resolution. We see an example of this in this clip:

After Tessa's abusive mother tells her off, Cyn steps in & exclaims that "they are not broken. We can no longer be thrown out", in direct reaction to the mother threatening to throw out all of Tessa's "dumpster pets".

This, clearly, triggers Cyn's trauma we see a glimpse of in episode 5:

She wakes up in what is essentially a pile of dead bodies, deeply woulded, hurt & terrified. This is what she is referring to, this is what 'no longer' means. It means 'not again'. She doesn't wish what she went through on anyone.

Even though N, Tessa's favorite, protects Cyn, it does not shelter her from Tessa's abuse. Now, let me reiterate, I know that Tessa is an abused child. She suffers from emotional, physical & verbal abuse from both her parents (& maybe other caretakers) and is also just a kid. My point in mentioning said abuse is to merely point put that this is an example to the cycle of it continuing, creating more victims.

Tessa inflicts on Cyn the exact same abuse she suffers at the hands of her parents & more:

She displays blatent favoritism towards certain drones (N & J) over others (neglects V & treats Cyn badly).

She threatens Cyn that something might happen to her if N is hurt for defending her from her mother.

She chains & locks Cyn in the basement with the use of one of her favorite drones (J):

Another example of Cyn's implied neurodiversity is her misunderstanding of Tessa's words. When Tessa threatens Cyn that something might happen to her if N is hurt "because of her" she simply replies:

Cyn does not exactly understand that Tessa is worried that N might die. To her, it is meaningless, because she (or rather, the Absolute Solver) has backups of Ns personality (which is displayed in future episodes, when it is revealed that she is the one to send the murder drones to Copper 9). This is very similar to how people with ASD (& others) may take a statement too literally or misunderstand it at first.

Another tidbit that I like about Cyn, is that she doesn't like being condescended to. She talks back to those who belittle her because of her being 'different'. Not only to Tessa & her mother, but also to her fellow drones:

Cyn: it seems that J forgot to let me out of my basement time-out again.

J: yet here you are.

Cyn (turning to N): annoyed expression.

She also does it to N in her eldritch form:

Another thing I'd like to add is Cyn being quite quirky & unique in her peaceful days, before the Solver took over her entirely:

Physically Disabled

We know that Cyn was sent to be destroyed for some reason before the show began. Her almost being destroyed caused numerous disabilities, some of them were cured (for example: her cracked visor was fixed) but some remained as lasting effects:

Linguistic differences/disabilities -

Cyn cannot talk in a more "smooth" way like her fellow drones. Her voice can be interpreted as robotic & distant (a characteristic some neurodivergent & disabled people may have or may be precieved as having).

Instead of just doing, Cyn says her actions out loud, for example: "sheepish nod", "shuffle, shuffle, shuffle", "tantrum", "jumpscare", "light sip". Some neurodivergent individuals, such as people diagnosed with ADHD may express their thoughts or describe their actions out loud as they are doing them to help with focus, brain fog & organization.

Bodily impairments -

Cyn stands a bit crookedly & doesn't get much support from her limbs to hold her body.

Her head cannot be held straight & has to be supported by something (she usually uses her hand to do that. Even in her eldritch form, before committing the massacre in Elliot mansion):

Though there are many voices of people, both disabled & otherwise that speak against disabled characters being portrayed as villains, I believe Cyn is in no way a disrespectful character. Before she is entirely lost to the Solver her trauma is explored, validated & expended on. She is portrayed as sweet, charming, complex & loving. She is also shown as being bullied, discarded, hurt & abused.

Her disabilities are not the cause of her fall to evil & are not her "trademark" when it comes to her definition (similarly to how, let's say, Darth Vader is mocked for his suit & is known & feared partially because of it). They are a part of her, but they are not the only aspect in her life that define her.

I think Cyn is a pretty good example of what a disabled person may go through in different stages of their lives. As a new sibling, as an unfavored child, as a server/worker, as a friend, as a hero & yes, as a victim of circumstances beyond their control.

I love Cyn, she's very special to me & I can't wait to see where her story will go.

Thank you for reading 🙏💜

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msafterhours · 2 months

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No Promises

Reader POV x Joo Kyulkyung (Zhou Jieqiong)

~2.7k words

“We were meant to be together sounded so much sweeter when it felt like we had forever.”

There's something beautiful about intentionally making the wrong decision. Like, sure, it sounds crazy to step into the line of fire and say yeah, come on universe; take your best shot, but it’s also kinda fun, no? Granted, soaring down the streets of Seoul with the wind whipping against your jacket and the rain pouring past your helmet is maybe a bit much, but you left any concerns you might have had in the dust long before the sun set. Besides, this is far from the first time you’ve acted with the type of reckless abandon reserved for those who have yet to live long enough to have something to lose.

That calculus changes when you re-enter Seoul: speed limits shift from suggestions to mandates. After a third red in a row rips an extended groan from your chest, you spend the moment inspecting the streets you’ve traversed a thousand times. You’re met by the familiar sight of Gangnam-gu’s glimmering lights, gleaming skyscrapers, and garish nightclubs each casting their own unique reflection onto the shimmering street below. On most nights, you’re able to let the mess of colors fade into the background, but tonight, it feels uncharacteristically gray. Even then, it’s all so loud, from the rainfall on the swarms of umbrellas to the downcast expressions of the faceless crowd—hell, even the red light you’ve been keeping an eye on seems washed out.

Right as you’re wondering if you’ve been transported back in time and cast in a 1940s sitcom, a sudden flash of color at the far edge of vision completely derails your train of thought. You turn and are met by a sight pulled straight from a modern drama: a student close to your own age wearing a soaked banana yellow top and skirt clinging to her legs as she hides under her highlighter pink backpack like it’s some shoddy umbrella. It’s … not a pretty sight.

Or at least it wouldn't be, if not for the rest of her. Her long, dark hair cascades down past her shoulders and clings to her face, obscuring your view of her finer features, yet every aspect of her from her posture to the placement of her steps projects a practiced poise that monopolizes your attention. Everyone else fades from your vision as the light turns green and she turns the crosswalk into her personal runway … though the effect is kinda ruined by the urgency with which she scurries through the rain.

A feeling from deep within urges you to act—that and the person behind you honking their horn since you’ve spent the four seconds since the light turned green frozen in place. You release the brake, accelerate forward, and veer your motorcycle to the side where you know she's heading. With a quick step onto the soaked pavement and a tug on the strap of your helmet, you greet the rain with the widest of smiles, then feel it shift into a smirk as you call out, “Ouch, aren’t you a sad sight to behold. Need some help with that?”

She turns and stares, mouth agape, as she processes the sight of you. Your first glimpse of her leaves you stuck mirroring her expression, mouth agape in disbelief because she's gorgeous, with a sharp jawline that contrasts perfectly against her soft skin. It’s a face sculpted to show on billboards … and one whose disbelief shifts into a smirk as she remains unaffected by your reaction. Your eyes travel upwards past those invitingly soft lips, along the bridge of her nose, all the way up and meeting her own, where you’re all too tempted to lose yourself in them. Eventually, she breaks the silence and asks, “What. The. Fuck. Are you doing? Are you trying to die?”

“Of course not, don’t you listen? I already told you, I’m trying to help,” you say back, smile widening as her skepticism refuses to fade whatsoever. “I just figured that while we’re both out in the rain, only one of us wants to be, yeah? I'd be doing something wrong if I didn't at least offer to get you there faster, so I ask again: do you want my help or not?”

As you offer her your helmet, you see the distrust finally start thawing, just enough for her to crack a smile of her own. “This is insane—you’re insane. But you also seem fun, so why not?”

You hand her the helmet and exchange names, and as the girl you'll come to know as Kyulkyung repeats yours back to you, you watch as her eyebrows relax and the distrust starts leaving her eyes. As you go through a brief crash course—how to wear a helmet, where to sit, etc.—her posture slips too, hints of comfort and fatigue settling in as her shoulders slump. Yet through it all, her eyes remain locked on yours, causing an unexpected pang in your chest as you turn to climb onto the bike. It fades slightly when you turn back to her, offer your hand, and ask, “Okay, you ready?”

Even as Kyulkyung shivers and shakes like a leaf in the wind, the fire in her eyes burns bright as she dismisses your hand and climbs atop the bike with ease. Her arms wrap around you, sending a shock of heat through your system and your heart rate into the stratosphere as she asks, “Do you happen to know where the PLEDIS building is?”

“Funnily enough, I do,” you tell her, smirking with sinister intent as inspiration strikes. “What’re you, a trainee or something?”

“No …” Kyulkyung murmurs, averting her eyes as she continues, “I just have a really good reason to want to be there before 11:00.”

“Sure. Yeah. Totally,” you say. Her eyebrows raise; yours respond in kind. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth. You continue. “You, the ‘School of Performing Arts’ student—in said uniform—strutting around Gangnam of all places. You’re gonna try and convince me you’re not a trainee, just that you happen to have a ‘really good reason’ to be at an agency before a very specific time of night.”

“Are you trying to say something?”

“Two things actually: you’re full of shit and you’re out past curfew.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Why would it even matter?”

“Because I like being right, and you apparently hate being wrong. Aside from that, if I need to get you back before curfew, we’re going to have to book it, run a few red lights, pray that we don’t get pulled over—”

“Alright, enough,” Kyulkyung interjects, eyes rolling with a gymnast’s grace. “You’re not wrong, but let’s just focus on getting me back in one piece, alright? I’m pretty sure they care more about me being alive than on time.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you say it,” you insist. “Go ahead, tell me I’m right.”

“You’re actually serious?” she mutters in disbelief. You opt to let the silence act as your confirmation.

“Fine. You’re right: I’m a trainee. Happy?” Kyulkyung grumbles, grimacing as a grin overtakes your expression. “What gave it away?”

“I dunno, you kinda just seem ‘that kind of pretty’,” you say with a shrug. “Something about the way you walk too … honestly, nothing about you comes off as normal.”

“Bit rich for you of all people to say that, don’t you think? I wouldn’t exactly call this a ‘normal’ way to spend a Friday night.”

“I wouldn't either,” you admit, smiling wide as you respond. “But are you—the trainee—really gonna be the one to lecture me about running headfirst towards an enticing risk?”

“No, I'm not,” Kyulkyung says, her grip on your ribs tightening. “Though I might not be so kind if you keep me out in this rain any longer.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” you wheeze out, struggling to catch your breath as you paint on your most dramatic pout. “You’re no fun … but you are kinda cute, so I guess I can cave just this once.”

“Good,” she replies, smiling in smug satisfaction. “Now, let’s get going! I’m cold.”

“As you wish, princess,” you say, revving the engine and speeding off before she gets the chance to respond.

You immediately lose any semblance of newfound confidence as the unfiltered brunt of the elements threatens to overwhelm you on your first time riding without a helmet. First, it’s the scent of rain. Then, it’s the rain pummeling your brow. Finally, it’s the noise. Your motorcycle roars and the cars passing you scream off into the night as they pass—it’s all just so fucking loud and every single sensation threatens to pull your focus away from the road. Yet even amongst the brutal weather of a stormy night, Kyulkyung’s thoughts resonate through your mind clear as day. You feel her heartbeat race as you accelerate out of a turn, feel her cling to you tighter at every hint of yellow in the stoplights above. Without fail, she wordlessly pleads for you to choose caution, and, without fail, you do whatever she asks.

At one such intersection, you ask a question of your own: you let go of the handlebar and place your hand atop hers. Kyulkyung's response is just as silent, but she needs no words to tell you yes as she intertwines her fingers with yours as you wait together. Even through the drenched material of your glove, the heat of her touch wards off the cold, sending a surge of warmth through your shivering body as you both stare ahead into the awaiting darkness. You revel in the sensation as long as possible, right up until the light turns to green and you’re forced to pull away.

As she embraces you once more and you accelerate forward, a realization cuts through the fog and arrives at the forefront of your mind: you just met this girl and you already know you’re never going to be able to say no to her. And that’s … okay?

Yes. There’s something about her that takes the tension out of the knots in your shoulders, makes you breathe just that bit easier—at least when she’s allowing you to do so. It’s all too easy to ease into her embrace, all too tempting to take your time weaving your way through the tangled web of your home suburb’s streets. The thought proves far too tempting and you choose to do so, desperate to preserve the sanctity of these seconds spent together.

Unfortunately, the night only lasts so long and the road only goes so far, so you’re soon met by the familiar sight of your destination. You force yourself to ease off the gas, allowing your momentum to carry you forward until you come to a stop across the street from the building in question. With a sigh and a swing of your leg, you step off the motorcycle and turn to face her as you offer her your hand. This time, Kyulkyung accepts, taking it and joining you on the sidewalk. After loosening the chin strap, you gently pull the helmet off her head, granting you a glimpse of her parted lips before revealing the excitement and expectation in her wide eyes.

“So, what’d you think? Kinda fun, right?” you ask, allowing your eyebrows to lift in expectation as you await her response.

“Maaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyybbbbbeeee,” she says, drawing out that single syllable just long enough for smirks to overtake both your expressions.

“You know what? I’ll take it. And you—” you say, turning away for a moment as you unlock one of the side compartments of your bike and pull something out. “—should take this.”

Kyulkyung lets out the slightest squeak of surprise as she catches the umbrella you toss her, though the surprise is quickly replaced by the disdain and disbelief overtaking her expression. “Wait, you’re kidding. You have to be. You had this the whole fucking time?”

“Yep!”

“And you still felt the need to convince me to risk my life on that screaming metal death trap?”

“I thought it’d be a valuable experience,” you say, shrugging once more. “You can keep the umbrella by the way; it’s all yours.”

Kyulkyung’s sigh of resignation is all that keeps the street from falling into silence as you stand there, waiting for her to voice her thoughts. Eventually, she does so. “Give me your phone.”

“So greedy, honestly. I just gave you a ride and my umbrella, yet you’re still asking for more?” you scoff. Still though, you do as she asks, pulling it out of your pocket and unlocking it before handing it to her.

“It’s one of my toxic traits,” she replies as she taps away at the screen. “Everyone else seems to have gotten used to it, so I’m sure you’ll be fine, eventually.”

“Oh?” you ask, eyebrow arching as she piques your curiosity. “You hoping I’ll stick around?”

“No, I was just texting myself from your phone for the hell of it,” she says, sarcasm soaking her words like the rain-soaked streets as she finishes typing. “It totally wasn’t because I was gonna ask if I could get you coffee or something, as thanks for getting me home safe.”

Kyulkyung finally looks away from the screen, meeting your gaze with an infectious smile as she offers you your phone. “That’s unfortunate. I really like the thought of someone else paying for my drink.”

“Yeah?” she asks. A pause. Then, “Maybe we’ll just have to make it happen.”

“Maybe we will,” you agree. With that, you turn and remount your motorcycle. Before you go, you offer her one last smile as you bid her farewell. “I need to get back, but I hope you have a good night and good luck with—” you gesture wildly at the beautiful mess standing in front of you “—explaining everything I guess.”

“Thaaanks,” Kyulkyung grumbles, pouting as she shudders at the thought and ripping a warm laugh out from deep within your chest. As it echoes against the buildings’ frigid walls, her hints of a smile bloom into her own peals of laughter that harmonize with your own as they resonate as one.

“I hope you have a good night too,” she says softly after a short while. “Try not to die on the way home, alright?”

“No promises.”

Kyulkyung’s eyes roll once more, but there’s genuine gratitude in the nod she gives before turning away. As she disappears into the building’s darkened halls and vanishes from your sight, a chill courses through your veins, leaving you shivering as you adjust your helmet and take off down the road.

Barely a minute passes before you reach your apartment complex and the pale brick and light blue tones that define its color palette. After locking up your bike, you hike upstairs, step up to your door, turn the latch, and reveal … the silent darkness within. Empty, just like always. Muscle memory guides your hand to the switch, momentarily blinding you as the cool whites wash away the darkness to reveal the relaxing hues of your home.

While the sight normally instills a sense of calmness, it all seems to blur as the chill refuses to leave your body, rendering you seasick as your head swims. It remains even as you peel away your gloves and free yourself from the soaked leather of your jacket, leaving you shivering even as you turn on the shower and pray for it to heat quickly. As you wait, you decide to check your phone and see what message Kyulkyung sent herself.

You can’t help but scoff at the assumption, but it quickly shifts into a smile as you compose your response.

You (10:59 PM): When you read this, let me know if you got home safe.

I don’t want to put the time into making coffee plans if you’re not gonna show up

You (11:08 PM): You’re insufferable

You (11:08 PM): How’d everything go? Were you able to sneak back in?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Oh, easily

You (11:09 PM): Not your first time pushing curfew?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Definitely not

Kyulkyung (11:10 PM): And definitely not the last either

You (11:10 PM): Can't say I'm surprised lol

You (11:11 PM): I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, even if the most interesting part has already happened

Kyulkyung (11:11 PM): Lol thanks, try not to get into too much trouble while I'm not there to supervise

You (11:12 PM): No promises

(My sincerest gratitude to @capslocked as always for their contributions towards bettering this fic. This was a draft I started a while ago that I didn't foresee myself finishing, but as I was editing it, I had the idea of posting little vignettes from the plot that I had written instead of making it a singular narrative. The plot I had in mind originally spanned something like 4 years, so just writing the highlights seems like a better fit (if there's interest for this story at all, I know it's an idol that's been away from the industry for a bit). Regardless, thank you so much for spending your time reading my work and I hope you enjoyed it!)

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #idol x reader #idol x male reader #kyulkyung #zhou jieqiong #ioi #pristin

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verstappensrealwife · 1 month

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Cellophane - Charles Leclerc x Reader

angst, fluff.

approx. 1000 words

warnings : I wanted to do a pure angst but i just couldn’t, reader falls over, breakup (beginning) ¿happy? ending I guess. Use of Y/N, Y/L/N.

Can’t decide if I like this but I need to post 🥱

charles leclerc masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

— September, 2023

The hate online isn’t nearly what made your heart into a thousand pieces, it was the lack of support from the one man you wanted support from.

“Why won’t you do this for me?” You asked Charles, a hushed tone of voice. “I- You can’t just ask them to stop?” You were almost begging for him to just… care.

“I can’t!” He shouted back- a harsh contrast to your own tone- “Fuck- You know this! They’re my fans!”

“And them telling me to die is what? Fan behaviour?”

He sat in agonizing silence, every word you spoke cutting deep because he knew you were right. But the thought of admitting it, of crumbling under the weight of his own mistakes, was unbearable.

So, he clung desperately to his fragile pride, refusing to apologize, even as guilt gnawed at him.

“If you can’t handle it anymore, you…” His voice faltered, the words catching in his throat like shards of glass.

He couldn’t finish, and you could see the unspoken truth hanging between you, heavy and inevitable.

“I should what, Charles?” You demanded, your voice sharp and trembling. “Say it.”

His breath hitched as he forced the words out, each one laced with regret. “We… we shouldn’t be together.”

The confirmation of your darkest suspicions sent a wave of anguish crashing over you. Tears welled in your eyes, and you tipped your head back, desperately fighting them off before regaining just enough composure to meet his gaze.

“You’re a coward, Charles,” you spat, the accusation dripping with bitterness. Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel, snatching your keys from the table by the door. The slam of the door echoed through the apartment, a final, resounding note to the shattered remains of what once was.

— April, 2024

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fun!” Lily exclaimed dramatically, waving the tickets in your face with a mischievous grin.

“Lily… he’ll be there,” you murmured, the hesitation clear in your voice.

Lily Muni He, your best friend and eternal partner in crime, rolled her eyes playfully. “And so will like ten other single drivers,” she shot back with a smirk, “Plus, a ton of rich, single men,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You couldn’t help but laugh, giving her a gentle shove. “Fine, fine, I’ll come,” you groaned, snatching the paddock pass from her hand.

“For you, Lily— not the men!”

Saturday, 25th May 2024

Monte Carlo, Monaco.

The first few days had passed without a glimpse of him, and for that, you were grateful. Today felt promising, the crisp morning air in Monaco filling you with a rare sense of optimism. You decided to start your day with a leisurely walk through the city, a few good hours before qualifying, giving you plenty of time to grab breakfast and soak in the peaceful atmosphere.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

“Leo!” a familiar voice called out, breaking through your thoughts. You turned just in time to see Charles sprinting around the corner, chasing after his little dog, the leash flapping uselessly behind him as Leo seized the opportunity to dart away.

And then, before you could react, Charles collided with you, sending you sprawling onto the pavement with a startled yelp. The impact knocked the breath out of you, and before you could fully process what had happened, you felt a warm, wet tongue eagerly licking your ear and jaw. You couldn’t help but huff out a laugh as you sat up, only to find Leo wagging his tail furiously, clearly pleased with himself.

“I—I am so sorry,” Charles stammered, thrusting his hand out toward you. That’s when you looked up and met his eyes, and the surprise and awkwardness on his face softened a little. “Y/N?”

You hesitated for a moment, then chose to stand up on your own, brushing off the lingering embarrassment. “Charles,” you greeted, your voice tinged with awkwardness.

“S-sorry—he—he just ran off…” Charles fumbled, pointing to Leo, who was still beaming up at you, his tongue lolling out in delight. You noticed the slight stutter in Charles’ voice—something he never did in front of anyone. Then again, you weren’t just anyone.

“It’s fine,” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Not the first time you’ve embarrassed me.” You teased, watching as Charles forced a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m joking,” you added quickly. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good!” Charles responded a little too quickly. “I got a dog!” he announced proudly, then blushed as he realized how obvious that was. “But, uh, you can see that.” He laughed, a little sheepish.

“How about you? Boyfriend?” he asked suddenly, the question tumbling out before he could stop it. It was a little inappropriate, but the curiosity—no, the longing—was clear in his eyes.

You offered a shy smile, shaking your head. “No… I did, but we broke up.”

“Oh?” Charles tried to sound casual, though he already knew about your ex—he might have checked your Instagram a few times. “How come?”

You sighed softly, glancing away before quietly admitting, “He wasn’t you…”

A slow, hopeful smile spread across Charles’ face. It might have been a little insensitive to feel happy about your breakup, but he didn’t care. Maybe, just maybe, you still loved him.

“I can be better,” he blurted out, his voice tinged with desperation. “I—please…” He sighed, the words hanging in the air between you.

You looked at him, your heart caught between old memories and new possibilities. “Qualify P1, and I’ll take you up on your offer,” you said, a small smile playing on your lips.

Charles grinned, hope flickering in his eyes. Maybe this time, things could be different.

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gotham-daydreams · 1 year

Note

Okay we see how Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass become Yanderes for reader what about Damian, Steph and Babs?

That question is exactly why I'm kind of debating on making a kinda "Part 2.5" sort of thing, and it would show how Tim and Damian got further roped into things like Bruce, Dick, Jason and Cass. Along with how Steph and Babs take the news of "heyyy, um. you know Y/n? yeah that one sibling of ours that's lived here for years that we've barely have like, 10 conversations with collectively? Yeah, that sibling. Uh, we just figured out they've basically been living an entire life without any of us knowing, and might've run away because we were barely involved in their life despite them making multiple attempts to have us be there. So, we kind of need your help to find them. Like. Now-"

Though honestly I'll just put the run down here, so-

Bruce kind of gave Damian the little push he needed before hopping on the train, kind of like what he did with Jason but a little different. With him finding Damian, and some questions being thrown around, before Damian just decides to help look for you.

Honestly I can imagine that Damian wasn't super serious about finding you or anything at first, and was more so just trying to help because Bruce and Dick were looking for you. Hence why he looks for Alfred first with the intention to get the search done and over with. Though, that does begin to change a little when he eventually stumbles upon your room and gets that small glimpse of all he's missed out on after having talked with Alfred.

The room itself doesn't necessarily get to Damian — not like it does with Bruce and Dick — but it's more of the contents of the room itself that get him started on the yandere path.

Honestly, how Damian and Tim begin to develop their more Yandere thoughts and feelings for the reader is through finding something in your room, leading them to find more stuff, and that eventually getting to the thought process of "i didn't know they did this... i would've liked to know about this before/share this thing with them." Which then leads to a more yandere-like mindset.

For Damian (since we're already on the topic of him), he finds that one art award that you got, and becomes curious. Eventually he finds the unfinished art pieces that Bruce had found earlier, and while he isn't impressed or anything at first, the more unfinished pieces he finds the more he kind of begins to see your potential, and that leads to his own thoughts on the matter. With him wishing he knew about how you liked to do art too, and that eventually leads to him thinking that he could've helped you refine your skill, and the both of you could've drawn or painted together.

What strengthens that mindset is when he gets his hands on a notebook that you had used to practice whatever you were struggling with, and left notes for yourself on how you could improve upon certain things as well. Maybe if Damian had known you were into art before, he could've helped you, and you both could've improved together. Refine each other's skills, and just be able to create together. Which Damian really begins to like the thought of. Especially as he sees how you improved the deeper into the notebook he gets.

So, he also sets out to find you, but with a more positive mindset and thought process.

Honestly, out of everyone, Damian is the least worried about you and your well-being. Not because he necessarily has faith in your abilities to stay alive in Gotham, while also potentially being by yourself, but rather he isn't focused on that part? Not as intensely as some of the others, anyway.

Besides, if you were to turn up dead, then he'd have the "you die, I kill you" mindset. You aren't allowed to be dead or 'missing' in his mind, and so you aren't until proven other wise — but even then he's going to need a lot of solid proof to even believe it.

Damian is just more focused on the "we have a common interest and I want to do this thing with them" part of learning that you're into art. Even if you aren't anymore, just knowing that it was something that you used to do is enough to get him jumping on the yandere train. You'll be doing art with him one way or another, and you can't do shit about it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sure his reasoning isn't a strong, but it's enough to get him started and to go looking for you with the others when they eventually start tearing Gotham apart in hopes to find you. Damian now has a sudden need for quality time and your his main target, sorry not sorry.

Tim on the other hand just sort of, stumbled upon your room, and thanks to Dick was very quickly roped into this mess (as mentioned in "Not Here").

He actually looks through the box with all of your more personal belongs first as Dick tries to call and text you like crazy, while also trying to figure out more stuff.

The first thing he minds is an mp3 player, which, again - as mentioned in "Not Here" held very early versions of songs you were working on at the time, along with some of the very first songs you ever wrote. Which, after listening to a few of them, is immediately a big fan. Though that ends up being both his downfall and how he begins to develop his more yandere tendencies.

Like Dick, you had tried to call and message him about certain performances and such you thought he'd like, and hoped he'd attend, but to no avail. It sucks even more for Tim now because if he had just given your music a chance just a little sooner, maybe things would've been different between the two of you. Maybe you wouldn't have left.

Not to mention that, since he now really loves your music - just knowing that he's wasted so many opportunities to hear more of it, and the completed, fully fleshed out versions of some the songs on the mp3 player makes him upset. He really feels the hit of neglecting you, and that hit only lands harder when he goes through that 'List/Progress' notebook that Bruce had seen earlier in "Not Here".

A notebook which does reveal a lot about you, and how you only did so many activities because you hoped that if anyone in the family was into one of the activities/hobbies you tried, then you'd be able to bond with them over it. Though look at where that got you. Countless awards hung on your walls, with a number of accomplishments to your name - and yet not once were you able to use them for their original purpose. Not once were you able to hold a full, long conversation with any of them about any of the things you've done.

It wasn't even your fault because you tried to put in the work, Tim could really see that now, but you just weren't given the chance to actually put it to good use.

Maybe that's why he ended up helping Dick as much as he did, and maybe that's why he took the time to download some of your songs before heading out to look for you. He wanted to feel closer to you then he really was, and wanted your music to be something shared between the two of you.

Tim wants to not only get closer to you, but to hear everything you've ever made music wise. A want which he fully intends on making a reality.

Stephenie and Barbara are a bit different, however. Since, as stated in "Not Here", both of them are informed of what's going on after everyone else but Damian and Alfred absolutely loses their minds over you not being in the Manor. Though, again, both take the news a bit differently.

Between the two, Steph easily feels the worst. So her motivations and actions — like Bruce, Dick, Jason, Cass, and Tim — are more out of guilt and regret. She already doesn't like the thought of her own neglect having caused you to keep so many things to yourself that you basically hid yourself away, but the idea of her — along with everyone else — having pushed you so far away that you ran away? That... doesn't make her feel good, to say the least.

Sure, she doesn't feel as bad as Bruce or Dick - who easily feel the worst because of their respective roles in the family, and them feeling like they failed to even be a semi-present figure in your life for you to recognize them as your Father and Older Brother (to which they are correct, but aren't aware of that yet) - but it's still enough for her to try and look for you too.

Kind of like Bruce when he was looking in the Manor, Stephanie doesn't know where to start looking, and that only worsens her regret.

I guess her development comes more with time? Since the more she and the others look, not only do her feelings grow, but she also learns more about you as everyone starts sharing information over the intercoms. Things they just found out about you — like how you spent your birthdays alone with Alfred and had waited for them each year until recently, how you made music, what kind of competitions and such you've participated in, who were your teachers, how majority of what you did wasn't even for yourself - but rather a chance that one of the many activities you did try out was something anyone of them were into, so that way you could actually have a conversation with them - and more. (Which may be shown later? Not in a official post/part to the series but perhaps in a sort of side thing that shows the mayhem going on. But who knows?)

Case and point, while they are all looking for you - Steph slowly becomes more yandere for the reader the more she learns about you and how her and the other's actions impacted you. Like some of the others, she wants to make it up to you, but isn't entirely sure how she'd even go about doing that. The more aware she becomes, the harder she falls.

Barbara on the other hand, I'd say, is more lowkey as of now when it comes to her development as a yandere?

I mean, Dick, while very much panicking, basically told her it was an emergency and he really needed her on the bat computer because he had to look for you. Which, in the same breath, gave a list of locations and possible teachers you might've had in the past (you can thank Tim for trying to figure all of that out) and if she could look into it.

It's safe to say that Barbara's introduction into the whole situation was very chaotic. An emotional, worried, and panicked Dick is never a good one, so that was fun to deal with while slowly drowning in confusion.

Eventually, she got the run down and was quick to help, but like Bruce, Cass, Damian, and Jason - she was more confused at the start.

Ouf of everyone, and maybe besides Jason, Barbara has had the least amount of interaction with you - and the room for possible interactions with you for her were much smaller anyway considering that you aren't a vigilante, and never intended to be. So, it only makes sense that one of the people you've easily had the least connection with, was the person who communicated and mainly interacted with the rest of the Batfam when they're doing vigilante work.

What didn't help is that she barely even saw you at events or even holiday gatherings and such the family would have, with you being so neglected that they just... failed to even notice you missing at the time. The day she was introduced to you was when you were first adopted, and that was basically both the first and last full interaction either of you have had with each other. Other than that, she would hear small comments about you sometimes from the others, but even then it wasn't much and those soon died out as one could've guessed.

Even when she was in the Manor, she might've caught a few glimpses of you, but nothing else - so the beginning of her fall into being a yandere is definitely much slowly and lowkey when compared to the others.

I feel as if this whole situation may encourage Babs to want to get to know you better? After all, your disappearance did cause the whole family to basically start a whole manhunt just to find you, so I feel as if that would be enough to get Barbara interested at the very least. Not to mention all of the things she's hearing about you from everyone - it would be nice to try and actually meet you, not just know about you.

In other words, I feel as if Barbara may develop more as a yandere in part 3, seeing as I can see her more yandere tendencies begin to develop once she actually 'meets' you. Y'know what I mean?

So tldr; Damian becomes a yandere for the reader by finding out they're into art/have done art in the past, and now has a deep need to bond with them.

Steph becomes a yandere through her guilt and regret, and like some of the others, want to make it up to the reader.

Babs, on the other hand, hasn't exactly become a yandere just yet, but will once she 'meets' the reader and see them for herself. As of right now, she's just curious, but we'll get there in part 3.

Also, this is unrelated to the ask, but I would like to point out how pretty much everyone in the Batfam thinks you ran away rather then you just leaving. Do what you will with this information for now :]

Anyways, I hoped that answered your question, even if I got a bit rambly! If there's anything else in particular anyone else would like to know, feel free to send in an ask!

#a bit of a ramble- whoops #though that is generally how it goes #and again i might write some of this out- but mostly the things i mentioned about steph and babs #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #sibling reader #neglected reader

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pretzel-box · 4 days

Text

In the stillness of the night, I pen letters meant for you,

Words whispered into the quiet, unheard by anyone but the stars.

I linger at your vent, never crossing the safety of your space.

Hoping—wondering—if someone else shares it with you tonight.

I gather assets over assets, but never offer them,

And fall, die on purpose all over again, just to glimpse your eyes,

Yet never brave enough to meet their gaze.

I long to be the spark that dances in your eyes once more,

To slip into your dreams, where I might rest beside you.

I wish to become the one you hold dearest in your heart.

I need you to know—I wish we could be who we once were.

Sebastian’s eyes traced the hurried strokes of ink on the aged pages, his fingers quietly turning them one by one. Each word stitched together fragments of a past he hadn’t been ready to face, and now, too late, he was. The diary—yours—spoke in rushed lines, black ink on untouched white, a haunting memory captured in its simplicity.

He had found it only after you were gone. Too late to understand, too late to fix the silence between you. He had kept his distance, unsure, too shy to bridge the gap, because the person you once knew wasn’t who he had become. He stayed behind, waiting in the quiet of the shop, your favorite things still in their place, gathering dust. You never came.

He wrote his thoughts, his truths, into the assets you’d given him, hoping they would be of use, but never passed them on. When the time came—when your life slipped away—he sought your eyes, desperate for a last connection. But you turned away.

And in the stillness that followed, Sebastian realized how deeply he missed you.

#sebastian solace #roblox pressure #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #pressure #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure x reader

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mellowswriting · 2 years

Text

did you miss me?

pairing || Din Djarin x f!reader

word count || 4.2k

summary || Din proves just how much he missed you while he was away.

content || pure poetic smut, rough but loving sex? is that a thing?, blowjobs, deepthroating, face fucking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms Din is pussy whipped and painfully in love, thorough aftercare, dorks in love

a/n || not me coming back from my mini hiatus with pure smut 🤠 no one is surprised, right?

It’s been too long since Din has felt your lips against his skin. By too long, he means just a little over a week. Call him dramatic but he’s certain it’s a miracle he survived without you at all. He wasn’t meant to be gone for so long. He’s far too used to waking up and falling asleep next to you, teasingly smacking your ass as you walk by, dragging you close and fucking you against whatever surface is available. Din can feel your absence tugging at his skin, pulling him taut and tense. He’s grown… attached. More attached than he imagined himself capable of, in fact.

So when Fett came to him for help, Din was less than enthusiastic to leave the little world of calm you created together. It took a bit more cajoling than usual. It will take two days at most. We can compensate you. Then you can take your pretty little lover out somewhere nice. Din rolled his eyes at the light teasing from his fellow Mandalorian, but he couldn’t deny the prospect sounded like… fun. Something he hadn’t sought out in a very long time. So Din looped you in on the plan, fucked you nice and thorough, and very begrudgingly left you in his bed to help his friend.

Two days quickly became a week. He really should have known that this would happen but Din is a man of his word. He stays and fights by his friends’ sides, and undeniably wins the entire ordeal for them. The celebration afterward would have been tempting if he didn’t know exactly what was waiting for him back home. Fett didn’t even bother trying to convince him to hang around; he just tossed Din a bag of credits and a knowing grin, which Din pointedly ignored. He took a quick shower before he headed off, all too aware that he wouldn’t be wasting a second once he has you in his arms again.

Din sees you before you see him. He half expects you to startle when he wraps his arms around you from behind - an elbow to the ribs, a kick to his shin, something. But you just lean back into his chest with a surprised but happy sound, the blaster you were stripping abandoned on the counter. Your hands rub down his forearms until you reach his hands and deftly tug his gloves off, carefully setting them aside before lacing your fingers with his. Ease trickles down his spine as he takes in the feeling of your skin against his. Din never realized just how much he needed this. He’s so starved for affection that he feels like he just might die without yours. It doesn’t help that you’re just so… you. Soft against his scarred hands, firm against his stubbornness, so understanding of his inexperience.

“Did you miss me?” There’s a thread of humor in your tone that sends a flare of want burning through his body. He wants to sink his teeth into your shoulder, a small punishment for your teasing, but his hands are too busy to reach up and take off his helmet.

“Of course,” He says instead, the modulator in his helmet doing nothing to hide the raspiness of his voice.

You turn in his arms and Din is graced with your beautiful smile. A thread of concern laces through him as he takes in the tension that lingers in your body and the exhaustion-induced darkness under your eyes. You never sleep well without him. It must have been a late morning for you; you’re still wearing the tiny shorts and old shirt you love to sleep in. He catches a glimpse of the peak of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt just before your chest presses against his beskar. “Yeah? How much?”

“Help me out of my armor and I’ll show you.” That’s all it takes to encourage you to lift his helmet off.

Din drags you in for a blinding kiss the moment the helmet is out of his way. It’s a far cry from the first time he pressed his lips to yours. There is a confidence that surges through him - it ignites his need for you into something palpable and ferocious. Unrelenting. He digs his fingers into your thighs as he hauls you up into his arms and blindly stumbles his way into the small bedroom. Your bright laughter fills the air as he drops you on the bed and for a fleeting moment, genuine fondness soars over his lust, mixing into one devastating need. The two of you eagerly strip away each other’s layers, armor and clothes falling into a pile on the floor.

“Come on, get the fuck - get off.” You grumble under your breath as you finally unclasp his pants enough to strip him out of them. Din’s chuckle dies in his throat at the feeling of your fingers around his aching cock. Fuck, it feels so good it almost hurts - but that doesn’t stop him from greedily chasing more. His hand wraps around yours and guides it along his length in long, tight strokes, and the intensity of finally feeling your touch has his eyes fluttering closed. You huff a quiet laugh at his antics but don’t hesitate to give him even more - little kisses peppered along his belly and gentle caresses to his sensitive inner thighs. He’s so lost in the weight of your worship that he doesn’t even notice when you slip to your knees in front of him.

Din jerks in surprise at the warm, wet slide of your tongue along the head of his cock. A guttural sound rips through his chest as his fiery gaze meets yours, his jaw slack, lips parted as the heat of your mouth slowly envelopes him. His hand falls away as you work him further, instead coming to rest on the crown of your head. He doesn’t pull your hair or try to push; he just rests his hand there, gently caressing your hair as you roll your tongue in practiced swirls. Every inch you take further sends him reeling, pulls out those desperate little sounds he knows you love. Pride swells in his chest as your nose brushes the short, curly hair at the base of his cock. It isn’t easy; Din isn’t exactly a small man, in any sense of the word, but you still work him until your jaw aches and drool drips down your chin.

“Fuck… you’re so good,” Din’s voice is gruffer than usual, all deep and gravelly, and it does something to you. He watches with rapt attention as you go all soft and pliant for him, a muffled whine vibrating against his cock. His hips jerk unbiddenly at the feeling and an apology is poised to fall from his lips - but you just whine again. “Oh, is that what you want? You want me to fuck your pretty little face?”

You nod as best you can and Din has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check. It ignites something almost animalistic in him when these moments align so perfectly; his need to be in control rises to meet your need to be taken, and the two of you become one. Din’s wide palm settles at the back of your head to steady you against the slow, steady pace of his thrusts. His free hand grabs one of yours and laces your fingers together, and the familiar unspoken agreement passes between you.

Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.

The muscle in his jaw jumps at the sight you make. Unshed tears shine in your eyes as you gaze up at him, your lips stretched around the thickness of his cock. His fingers drift across your cheekbone and the steady pace he’s built falters as you instinctually lean into the familiar touch. Din’s heartbeat stutters. It's so simple, the absolute trust you show him. Even as your throat flutters around the almost too-big stretch of his cock, your eyes glimmer with so much love that Din nearly drowns in the overwhelming wave of intimacy. His stomach tightens, his stamina dashed in the wake of your beauty. It's enough to force him to pull you away. He can’t finish now, not like this. Not until he has you laid out beneath him, trembling and sweat-slick under his nimble fingers. He has been fantasizing about it for days, the idea taking the front stage of his mind and consuming all of his attention.

“Fuck, wait…” Din grits out through clenched teeth. His blunt fingernails dig into the thick muscle of his thigh as he tries to drag himself away from that edge. You just smile up at him, all too aware of the effect you have on him, and Din can’t help himself. He guides you up with a hand on the back of your neck and kisses you fiercely, completely unbothered by the taste of himself lingering on your tongue. He grumbles against your lips, “You’re too good at that.”

You don’t have long to preen under his praise. Din has the body of a hard-working man; he’s thick, all well-built muscle and startlingly fast reflexes as if he was handcrafted by the highest divinity. He’s powerful. And he has no issue in using that power to manhandle you onto the bed. Din kneels on the bed and uses his broad stature to his advantage, your thighs forced to part as he braces them against his own. The opportunities feel endless with you lying so close, so exposed beneath him. Din aches to worship every inch of your body. He wants to tease you with his tongue and fingers until you beg him, until his name falls from your lips, all sugared and desperate and ethereal.

Din hums a pleased sound as he finally lets his touch gravitate between your thighs. You’re so warm, so slick. “I haven't even touched you and you're so wet…”

“Yeah, well,” You chuckle breathily. “I missed you, too.”

That whispered confession makes his heart lurch. He has to sink his teeth into the delicate, already sore flesh inside his cheek to rein in the instinct that rears its head; that old animalistic instinct that screams at him to bend you over and fuck you, raw and unrelenting until he has his fill. He knows he’ll give in to it soon, but first… first he needs to show you the devotion you deserve. A shudder wracks through your body at the insistent exploration of his fingertips as they delve deeper into your pussy, teasing at your entrance before sliding up to brush against your clit. He’s entranced by the petal-soft feeling of your skin; so soft, so warm. He could stay like this for hours.

But then your breathing goes unsteady and you grind against his hand in a feeble attempt for more. “Please, Din.”

The fragile hold on his self control snaps.

Two fingers sink into your pussy and Din moans at the feeling of your wet heat tightening, trying to draw him even deeper as if he isn’t already buried knuckle deep. His other hand braces against the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh to keep your legs spread wide. He isn’t letting you hide from him, not tonight. Those two fingers curl up, driven by muscle memory and an overwhelming need to make you see stars, and he’s rewarded with your cries of pleasure. His fingers are thick and calloused from years of hard work, and he knows just how to use them to make you scream.

Din works your pussy in eager strokes, easing his fingers out of you only to introduce a third on his way back in. He watches with bated breath as you devolve into a whimpering, writhing mess. The sheets are your only anchor against the onslaught of pleasure. Your fingers twist the expensive fabric so tight that your nails threaten to tear right through it, but you can’t help it - not when his thumb is rubbing precise circles over your clit until you see stars. Your hips roll and a strangled whimper falls from your lips, and Din can feel it. He can feel the intensity that radiates from you the closer he draws you to a devastating orgasm.

You’re just so easy for him to read. Every hitch in your breath, every jerk of your hips, every rhythmic pulse of your walls. The siren song of your body is impossible to resist. You whisper his name, lovesick and aching, and Din knows you’re close. Some small, cruel part of him wants to leave you right there on the precipice with euphoria hanging just outside of your reach. The bigger part of him, though? It won’t rest until you break for him.

“Let go,” Din rasps, leaning closer to kiss your thigh. The roughness of his stubble makes you jerk in surprise. He can’t take his eyes off of your face, too enraptured by the sight of you falling apart just from his touch. “Fuck, you look… you’re so beautiful, cyare.”

The praise sends you trembling. You manage to meet his eyes for a mere second before you throw your head back into the plush pillows, a broken cry choking through the clench of your teeth as you rock your hips down into his touch. Din lets you take and take without hesitation until you finally shatter. The violent arch of your spine forces Din upright to give you the space you need, his hand still working you through your orgasm in steadily slowing strokes.

“Fuck, that - you… so good, you did so good for me.” Din trips over his words in his haste to praise you but it still affects you all the same. You give him that love-drunk smile as he presses closer to hover over you, his broad form caging you in against the bed. He knows you’re still lost in the bliss of it all but he just can’t help himself from dragging his lips along your jaw and neck, leaving sloppy kisses and teasing bites in his wake. It has been days since he had the chance to properly shave and the rough feeling of his stubble against your skin makes you squirm and laugh brightly. “You have no idea how - fuck…”

He can’t even find the words to tell you just how much he needed this, how much he needed you, but he doesn’t need them. You whisper ‘I know,” before kissing him, your tongue teasing his soft lower lip, and Din whines. A sound of pure need and adoration. He crowds closer to deepen the kiss and he can’t help the small canting of his hips as his neglected cock nudges your thigh. It isn’t easy to ignore the ache that has been building but he wants to give you time to really come down and recover - he is an excellent lover, after all. But he isn’t the only one who has been impatiently awaiting this moment.

The shock of your fingers wrapping around his cock has Din breaking the kiss with a rough gasp, those dark brown eyes widening as they lock with yours. He can see his own lust mirrored in them as you guide him closer and line him up, too impatient to wait for him to move of his own volition. You’re breathtaking in your need for him. It never fails to stroke his ego, to make him feel like the most desirable man in the world. An unspoken question passes between you, one you answer with your thighs wrapping around his waist, and Din’s willpower to ignore his urges vanishes.

Din sinks into your wet heat, doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt and the head of his cock nudges your cervix. He usually pauses there, just to give you time to adjust to the obscene stretch, but the animal instinct that burns between you is too much to ignore. His blunt nails bite into the soft flesh of your hips as he pins you beneath him, keeping you still and unable to escape the sharp, fast shove of his hips - as if you would dream of trying. The entire bed shudders and jerks under the weight of Din’s strength.

It doesn’t take long for Din’s large hand to find its way to your throat, his forefinger and thumb digging into the hinges of your jaw. He doesn’t restrict your breathing; Din just wants to keep your eyes on him as he fucks you brainless. Your lips part with a small gasp and an awed, pleasure-struck smile blooms across your face, and warmth unfurls through Din’s body at the sight you make. So beautiful, so intoxicated by his touch. He can’t deny you when your chin tilts, your wordless request for a kiss met by a soft brush of his lips. Such a soft, gentle thing should seem out of place in the deliciously harsh treatment of your body, but it doesn’t. It feels so right that his chest aches with it.

Din’s nose brushes yours as he hitches your hips higher and suddenly your back arches, his name cried out right against his lips. He drinks in the sounds of your ecstasy, the very nectar of the gods he needs to go on. The slight shift in angle only deepens as he damn near presses your body in half, your knees pressed back into your chest. The sharp shift makes you feel even tighter, especially as your pussy throbs deliciously around his cock. You whimper a broken sound because you know just how fucked you are. The position isn’t easy for either of you to hold but it just hurts so damn good, a perfect pinch of pain against endless waves of pleasure that makes you gush around him. Din doesn’t fuck you like this until the very end, when you’re both eager for release and clawing for that last little bit to throw you over the edge.

The earnest press of his thumb against your clit sends you reeling, the sensitivity almost too much to handle, but you both know he won’t rest until he hears you scream his name again. It’s sharp and electric, and Din knows just how to play your body until you break. Your hips jerk away on instinct before surging forward once more, driven by greed and pure, unadulterated pleasure. A whisper of ‘just like that’ is all the encouragement he needs to work through the burn in his thighs and keep his sharp pace, his violent thrusts shoving you further up the bed. It’s so fucking worth it just to feel your pussy tighten around him so hard you nearly force his cock out. Your thighs tremble and your hand flies up to press against his chest as you choke out a vague warning, your words nearly unintelligible as the surge of your orgasm gushes from you to wet his thighs and belly.

The feeling makes his rough pace stutter in shock and Din growls your name, fascination and lust burning hot in his tone as realization washes over him. It’s the only thought playing on a loop in his mind - he made you fucking squirt. He’s always wanted to see it, to feel the wetness of your cum on his skin. Delight and pride sing in his veins as he falls into a sloppy pace of short, rough strokes. Your slick drips along his thighs in little rivulets down to soak into the sheets and Din finally breaks. He doesn’t pull out - some filthy part of him wants to see his cum mixed with yours, dripping from your fucked out hole just so he can shove it back in with his fingers. He wants you marked as his, just as you have marked him as yours.

“Was that…” Din asks, his dry throat making his voice even rougher. “Did I really make you…”

“You did,” You answer his half-finished question with a breathy chuckle - as if you haven’t just rocked his entire fucking world.

You welcome the heavy weight of his body sinking into yours. Even with the ache in your thighs and back from his rough manipulation of your body, you let your legs shift back down to his waist and stroke the soft curls at the back of his head. Din kisses the valley between your breasts, a small offering of appreciation as he buries his face in your chest. The exhaustion of the last days - hell, of the last hours - vies to take over. Din lies in the embrace of your arms and your cunt, your overstimulated walls pulsing around his softening cock, and he finally feels at peace. At home, safe in the bed you share. But the urge to care for you is much stronger than the urge for sleep.

Din carefully untangles your body from his. Your disgruntled little groan is shushed with promises of a quick return and a fleeting kiss to your forehead. He has his own little ritual for those moments after he’s fucked you senseless. Water, a soft robe, maybe a snack or two, and a small cloth soaked in warm water. He catches a glimpse of the little smile on his face in the bathroom mirror as he wrings the excess water into the sink. It all feels so… right. For once, he isn’t searching for somewhere, for someone. He feels lucky. Din takes his armful of goods and that little smile of his back to you - and he nearly drops it all at the sight of you.

You are glowing in the aftermath. A light sheen of sweat illuminates your body in the low light, shows off the curves of your body as you lie prone in the expensive sheets he bought just for you. The crook of your elbow hides your face from view, but he already knows the blissful expression that is tucked away there. It is seared into his memory, one of his most beloved memories. Every ounce of tension has left your being; you’re loose and relaxed without a care in the universe. Elegant and beautiful with the evidence of his presence drying on your thighs, darkening the curve of your hips in the shape of his fingers. You are a goddess in your own right and Din knows he will spend every moment of his life worshiping at the altar of your body. He revels in that knowledge, takes the utmost peace in it.

Life may be chaotic and uncertain, but this… this is eternal.

In these quiet moments, he knows you crave his touch more than anything. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, skin on skin as he eases you through the submissive haze. Din settles close to you, propped up on his elbow, and sets about taking care of his lover. You wince just slightly as he passes the cloth along your sore cunt. Murmured apologies are met with dismissive hums. No words need to be said for your message to get across. I loved it. Don’t apologize for giving me what I want. Still, he pays close attention to the marks he left on your body. The soft floral scent of your favorite lotion lingers in the air long after he’s finished using it to ease the knots in your muscles.

Din loves taking his time with his aftercare. Once he has you cleaned up and rehydrated, he snuggles in close and lets his hands wander. His fingers trace nonsensical patterns into your plush thighs, over your belly, and up your sides. You shiver as his fingertips trail over your ribs and shoot him a warning look that he knows all too well. His sweet little woman, so sensitive to his touch. He does know better than to tickle you, so he instead slips his fingers beneath your jaw and tilts you up into a soft kiss. While he has you enraptured by his lips, his hand falls to your chest, cupping your breast in his large hand and groping you shamelessly. It's so silly that you pull away with a playfully incredulous laugh and Din can’t help but smile, one eyebrow raised as he takes in how beautiful you look.

“I really did miss you, you know.” You say as you reach up to brush his hair away from his forehead. Din sighs and captures your hand in his, drawing it up to his lips to kiss each of your fingertips, your knuckles, even your palm.

“I love you.” The words fall from his lips without thought. It startles him, his own candor. The vulnerability of it. But just as anxiety begins to crest, it’s burned away by the bright grin that blooms across your face.

You tug him closer, your lips brushing his as you whisper, “I love you, too.”, like a little secret, just for the two of you - and you kiss him. You keep kissing him, pulling him down until his body is pressed fully against yours. Din doesn’t know how long the two of you lay there, languidly kissing and whispering little confessions of love, but he knows he would stay there forever.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader #din djarin x reader smut #mando x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut

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mysaintkitten · 11 months

Note

Face riding Martin from retreat please

omg i’m so glad someone asked ..

Ride It | Martin x fem!reader

prompt: martin desperately wants you to ride his face (NSFW!! NO MINORS!!)

WARNINGS: oral (f receiving), premature coming (lol ??)

word count: 1.3k

“come on! pleaaaaase!” martin begs, “we came to this island to spend time together alone! and now that we’re here, your deeply devoted husband wants you to sit on his face. is that too much to ask?”

you shuffle through your mental list of pros and cons, “what if i suffocate you? or hurt you? you have asthma, martin!”

“i will die a happy man.” he responds unfazed

you giggle and sigh, “okay, okay, maybe. let’s talk about it later.”

he grins widely before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, “that’s what i like to hear.”

as the day goes by the topic goes seemingly unmentioned, but martin didn’t forget. the glimpse of approval you gave him had his mind fixated on it for the entirety of the day. it didn’t help that you were the only person around as well, whenever he saw you all he could think about was you sitting on his face. using him to get off. he wouldn’t consider himself submissive, but when it came to your pleasure he’d get on his hands and knees for you.

the hours passed and you and martin did regular, couple-like things. cooking together, cleaning up together, eating together, taking a shower together, the shower wasn’t even sexual. it was intimate, but sweet. you cleaned his hair, and he washed your body, and you enjoyed each others presence.

the evening progressed and eventually you ended up in bed together. he kisses along your neck and jaw, smiling against your skin as you giggle softly.

“so ..” he hums into your neck, “about that offer .. can i get an answer?”

you groan, “martin, i’m not sure.”

he whines, “please baby,” he slides his hand down between your legs and begins to rub you through your panties, “i want to, so bad ..”

you moan at his actions and his desperation, knowing how badly he wanted to please you gave you immense amounts of confidence.

he pulls his head out from your neck while slipping his hand into your panties to rub you directly, “please?” he whispers

“o-oh-“ you gasp quietly, finding it harder and harder to deny him, “okay, fine, i’ll do it.”

he grins from ear to ear as he pulls himself away and takes his hand out of your panties, laying his body flat beside you. you slip off your panties and begin to straddle his chest.

“wait, take this off first.” he asks while grabbing your shirt. you hesitantly comply, feeling a bit awkward being fully naked while he’s still completely clothed.

you toss your shirt to the side and scoot yourself forward until your knees are on either side of his head and your hands are on the headboard.

you look at him from below you, you can’t see his mouth but you can tell he’s still smiling. he runs his hands along the outer sides of your thighs while placing small kisses on your inner thighs.

“now, lower yourself down ..” he whispers as he sneaks his hands up to your hips, gripping them as he pulls you down so your pussy connects with his mouth. you slowly sink yourself down while reminding yourself to not rest your full weight on him, the last thing you want to do is hurt him.

he groans against you as your pussy meets his tongue, he wastes no time and begins to suck your clit, your knees almost give out.

“a-ah, martin ..” you moan, the sensitivity of your clit making you involuntary jolt up away from his tongue slightly, he mumbles some sound of disapproval before pulling you back down onto his mouth, this time deeper with more pressure. you’re not hovering above his face anymore, you’re full on sitting.

you allow yourself to give in, martin clearly wants it like this, worst case scenario he could smack your thigh if he needed air.

he continues to lap you up, shifting his face around so he can tongue your hole while teasing your clit with his nose, you whimper loudly at the sensation. he’s given you head before, obviously, but never like this.

as he sticks his tongue out flatly, he moves your hips forward and back, guiding you riding his face.

you start to pick up on his not so subtle hints and laugh breathily, “you want me to ride your face?”

you glance down at the man beneath you, he looks euphoric, half-lidded and dazed with blown out pupils, he nods lazily. he’s so incredibly hard his mind has gone completely blank, all he wants is to be a warm mouth and stiff cock for you to use and abuse until you’re happy.

you roll your hips without his guidance, moaning louder as he continues to move his tongue with you, suckling and licking your most sensitive areas. he creeps his up from your hips to your tits, gripping the pillowy flesh.

you remove your hands from the headboard and place them on his thighs to help ride his face better. you watch him, glossy eyes and red cheeks, with his hands now grabbing your tits as you rut your cunt against his face. every now and then you get a small glimpse into the bottom half of his face, which is slick with your arousal and his spit.

you can feel yourself becoming more wet, martin notices, he whines against you while gripping one of your tits a bit more harshly before sliding a hand down to your ass, kneading it roughly.

from behind you, you snake your hand between his legs, where through his pants you can feel his hard length. you hum as you begin to palm him, feeling a small damp patch where his tip is.

you chuckle, “you wanted this really bad, didn’t you?”

he whines against your cunt and nods, shifting his head around to try and lick you in the most pleasurable way.

“m-mar-ah!” you gasp as you feel your orgasm approaching, “marti-n, ‘m close.”

he moans and smacks your ass, sucking on your clit again while you grind against his face. your thighs twitch around his head, they’re becoming more unstable the closer you get.

he licks around your hole, swallowing your arousal as it spills out. he could drink you up, live off you, if given the chance. he hums against you before bringing his tongue and lips back up to your clit, the vibrations becoming all too much.

your hips jerk and your legs shake, you’re so close to coming it’s almost unbearable.

“yes, yes!” you gasp, “right there, i’m c-coming!”

he just moans against you again, continuing his repetitive licks and sucks as your orgasm finally hits.

your body spasms and your moan nearly sounds like a shout. as you’re coming, your legs give out, putting your full weight on his face. martin makes no attempt to lift you off, he just groans against you and continues to use his tongue on you.

it quickly becomes too overstimulating and you shakily lift yourself off his face while whimpering and drop your body beside him.

martin huffs. his lips pink, puffy, and slick, his pupils still dilated. he laughs weakly before swallowing, “thank you.”, as he places his hand onto your thigh and rubs it soothingly. you kiss him on the cheek and hum, “i should be thanking you ..”

you run your hand along his torso and palm him again through his pants, he winces quietly and shifts away.

“what?” you ask, clearly confused, “don’t you want me to return the favour?”

“uh .. you won’t have to worry about that ..” he mumbles, beneath your hand you feel the damp spot has gotten clearly wetter since the last time you touched him.

“did .. did you come in your pants?” you whisper, nearly laughing at him

he rolls his eyes and teases, “i couldn’t help it. you tasted too nice.”

—

i’m recovering from a severe hangover hope y’all are doing good !! hahah

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #martin from retreat #lol #hope y’all like this #:)#request

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s-4pphics · 1 year

Note

omg i need smut for ballerina reader x tattoo artist ellie

pleaseeeee

hi hon i didn't forget ab u trust me trust me

…. but hi guys🤭 since i finished sotp and this at literally the same time why not post both.... teeeheee

wc;cw: 1.9k😳, MDNI, ellie and reader r both freaks! nasty little harlots, these two are!!, kinda exhibitionism bc car windows, weed, shotgunning(failed), mentions of daddy kink and breeding and face sitting, readers a bimbo but we knew that we love u bae :3, more monologues, cocky ellie, dirty talk, spanking, mult. orgasms and squirting, slight dumbification, titty and pussy slapping mmm, das it

… i wrote this while high soooo if there’s a typo no there’s not! bye yall :p

when ballerina!reader and tattooist!ellie fuck for the first time the world damn near melts from the inside out.

you had finally gotten into the passenger's seat of ellie’s busted up car after she wrapped up your brand-new tat. you asked her multiple times if she was going to kill you in some nearby forest after smoking you out, in which she replied with a sly maybe. it depends on how you act when it hits. her response shook you a bit: you had just scored the lead in the nutcracker and your costume was so pretty, you had to wear it at least once and then she could do whatever she wanted with you as long as she destroyed your guts beforehand! :)

your little tote bag was near your feet on the floor as you hummed along to the rap song blasting through her speakers, lightly bobbing your head. ellie’s—large and veiny and tattooed—hand had been sitting on your upper thigh for the entire ride as she drove in a relaxed position, head resting against the back of her seat. you caught glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye whenever she licked or bit her lips. her small habits made your thighs squeeze together, before she silently pried them back open with her free hand to rest it there again. you wanted her to make you cum so bad you’d pay her extra for it—

“this your place?” she rasped out in shock as she parked in front of your dance academy dorms. damn, she thought. you weren’t kidding, you’re not a stripper.

“uh huh! it’s even prettier inside! marble floors and everything, i love it here so much!” you said with an excited grin that made her smile lightly. such a cutie, she thought.

“huh,” she hummed in acknowledgment. she reached over your lap to pop open her glove box to retrieve the little ziplock baggie filled with green buds and grinder before your eyes widened in shock.

“oh are… um… are we smoking right here? like out in the open?”

“mhm.” she replied blankly before she smirked. “what, is your headmaster gonna come out and give you a spanking or something?”

you wanted her to spank you so bad—

“no! i’m just asking, i’ve never done it outside before!”

“oh yeah? you never done it outside?” she replied silkily while she packed the spoon of the pipe.

you shivered and she caught it and please fuck me right here! i don’t care who sees!—

“i never used one of those before, it’s pretty,” you nodded towards the packed bowl.

“thank you,” she said simply. “lemme show you how to do it.”

after some simple instructions that you haven't payed attention to because her hands were distracting you, you nodded absentmindedly. what the fuck was she talking about again—

“are you even listening?” she said with a raised eyebrow that had a fucking slit in it oh, ohhh you might die—

when you shook your head no, she snorted before she grabbed her lighter from your hand.

“here. watch me.”

you watched closely as she lit the crushed green buds in the bowl, finger over a little hole on the side of the pipe before she lit it and breathed in, exhaling the smoke in a circular little cloud in front of her mouth. she looked back at you with a little see? simple.

she’s so fucking sexy and you’re probably dripping all over her leather seats—

“show me again?” you squeaked out.

she only slightly nodded with a cunning grin as she looked at you before she repeated her previous actions and blew the smoke away from you, handing you the pipe again. you pushed it away from you gently.

“you’re gonna make me smoke all this by myself?”

“i want you to do it for me… like blow it… blow it in my mouth?” you said shyly. your mind was cloudy.

she didn’t say anything, but you could see the pleasant surprise on her face, releasing a light chuckle before she lit the bowl, yet again!, inhaling the smoke and holding it before she gripped for your cheeks with her slightly calloused hand, pulling you so close that your noses were touching. your mouth dropped open on instinct, and slowly exhaled the smoke into your mouth.

you could barely inhale due to the pounding in your head and your chest and your swollen fucking clit—

ellie hardly even cared about you wasting a rip that good. she slowly slipped her tongue into your already open mouth, making you whimper as you wrapped your lips around it, sucking it further into your mouth. she released a satisfied hum that rattled your throat. and speaking of your throat—

she released your cheeks, sliding her large hand down to wrap around it, squeezing the sides and gauging your reaction. you were about to call her daddy, holy fuck, you wanted her fuckin’ kids—

“c’mere.” and fuck, you jumped her bones so quick.

you were finally in her lap and you immediately started grinding on her leg like a cat in heat.

she hurriedly sat the pipe on her dashboard, her free hands quickly taken in yours, bringing them up to your tits as you felt her squeeze them, tossing your head back with a whine.

“yeah? feels fucking good?”

“yeah, yesyesyes—“

you weren’t even high and you were so close to cumming, you couldn’t imagine how crazy you’d be going if you smoked properly. you’d probably be creaming all over her seats and windows by now.

you grinded down harder on her, your clit bumping up against your lavender sweats and her jeans and toned leg and you couldn’t stop crying out and oh, you were gonna cum in your panties—

ellie must’ve sensed it because she dropped her hands from your tits to your hips, mindfully avoiding your freshly wrapped tattoo(she’s such a sweetie, isn’t she?), and pulled you down onto her leg as she lifted it up to press harder against your clit just right and you lost it.

all that tension that built over the last two hours crashed into you as you threw your head allll the back and came inside your sheer little panties. you bounced on her thigh as she held your hips to help you grind out your high. ellie slowly licked up your exposed throat to your chin to your bottom lip before she shoved her tongue into your mouth in a messy, wet kiss. fuck, you were so in love already—

“take these off, baby, c’mon, wanna see,” she said dazed against your mouth, tugging down the waistband of your bottoms. you clumsily rested your weight against her wheel as you leaned back, a loud honk! ringing through the dimly lit, empty lot. it made you both jump and laugh as she wrapped her arm around your back to move you away from it. she used the space between you to pull down your panties and sweats just enough to expose your sopping cunt. she looked like she wanted to tear you apart. she could rip you to shreds if she wanted you’d let her do anything to you—

she didn’t say anything as her thumb rubbed your clit, making you buck your hips up against her hang with a whine.

she dipped two fingers down to your slit that was practically dripping all over her seats, and she hates herself for not bringing her dick with her because, fuuuuck, she would’ve slipped right in—

you felt her fingers push inside with little resistance, her car immediately being filled with both your groans and wet noises of your cunt. your walls squeezed the shit out of her fingers to pull them in closer.

you were a mess: at some point you’d removed your sweatshirt and tee, your tits out, and she was watching you play them, entranced, until you slipped a hand down to where she was inside you, grabbing her wrist to pull out and brought her slicked up fingers to your nipples, rubbing your wetness into your stiff peaks. ellie let out a quiet groan of shiiiit! before she slapped them both, bringing her head forward to suck the wetness from your tits, moaning at the taste of you.

she dropped her hand back down to slip her fingers inside your cunt again, wiggling them around until she pressed up against that one spot that made you see god—

“yeah? right there, baby? like that?”

“ye—aaAhh, el, oh my fuckin’ god your gonna make me cum again!—“

“fuckin’ want it, nasty fucking slut, give it to me, wan’ it all over me.”

your eyes were rolled into your skull, yes im your slut i’m your slut! being the only thing on your mind. your legs were trembling and you were so. fucking. wet. and you couldn’t fucking think about anything other than her her her—

“cum on my fingers so i can take you upstairs and stick my tongue inside you.”

and you died. you’re dead now. you screamed her name out into the car as you squirted all over her arm and jeans and seats and you just kept fucking cumming and ellie swore that she was going to marry you one day!—

you finally started to come down after she slapped your pussy a couple times. your orgasm had felt like it lasted minutes and you almost plopped onto the car floor in exhaustion, but ellie caught you before you could, pulling you back to her chest to connect her mouth with yours in a heavy kiss.

she grabbed your ass in both hands before bringing her hand down in a loud slap! as you moaned in her mouth, and it made her hit you again, harder.

she allowed you to pull back to regain your composure before you said with a pout, “i have to be up at five tomorrow.” it was almost midnight.

she laughed loudly before bringing your panties and pants back up around your waist before helping you put your shirt on before easing you back into the passenger's seat. you missed her warmth already. you grabbed your tote off the floor after carefully placing the discarded pipe and lighter into a small pocket with a soft c’mon before you opened the door to get out. ellie rolled the window down so she could respond.

“wait. you want me to come inside?”

“inside me? yeah.”

she let out a choked laugh before she said, “you’re nasty as fuck, jesus christ.”

“i sure am! now come sit on my face? my roomie’s sleeping so you might have to stick my panties in your mouth just in case!” you said with the brightest grin. “you can wake up me up for rehearsals with your tongue in my pussy, too, if you want!”

oh my fucking god? ellie thought, her eyes glossing over with a hazy look on her face. yeah. i’m making her a fucking housewife.

#ballerina!reader #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x black!reader #amitycat #tattooist!ellie ✎ ᝰ

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sirenpearldust · 3 months

Text

A kiss with Death - part two

series masterlist ⋆ part one

Pair: Azriel x Hewn City! Reader

Word Count: 3.719

Warnings: mentions of violence, r*pe (only mentioned), killing, death, cursing, “delusional” Azriel, abuse against kids (only mentioned), complicated feelings towards mating bond

“So, I have a mate?”

“Yes,”

“And I will kill him?”

“Yeah, basically,” replied Imani, her tone tinged with sadness as she looked up from the crystal ball. The violet light from the crystal ball cast a reflection on her face.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Camilla remarked, nonchalantly munching on dried meat.

“And he’s the shadowsinger too,” Estella added, her eyes unable to look away from the crystal ball that still depicted him and you, the scene replaying over and over. Her expression was a mix of pity for you and anger directed at him for being your mate, making it difficult to read her true feelings.

“Well, at least he’s handsome and tall,” you stated, eliciting laughter from the group. The room was warm, but your heart felt gripped by a cold hand, racing uncontrollably. You couldn't tell if it was because you had discovered he was your mate or because he had to die. You loathed him with a passion, but the conflicting reality was that he was your damn mate.

“Now, we need to be cautious when dealing with the scum from Velaris. If he and the High Lord catch wind of what’s going on... He can’t be near you, or the bond might snap,” Stella cautioned.

"Well, at least we're in the same boat," Camilla said casually, still munching on the meat as she patted you on the shoulder.

"You tried killing your fiancé. She's killing her mate. That's different, you dumb idiot," Estella chided, giving Camilla a light slap on the back of her head.

"Stella, that hurt."

"Well, then don't be stupid," Stella snapped back.

As they continued to argue, Imani shook her head, and you found it difficult to process this new revelation. The realization left you feeling queasy. Glancing into the crystal ball and catching a glimpse of him, seeing both of you happy together, made you question why would you even let him near you.

Was a bond really that strong?

Had something transpired between you two?

Why did Camilla help you? Scratch that! What a dumb question. Camilla would always help you kill someone - even mates. She abhorred them immensly.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, your heart heavy as you watched him bleed. Tears welled up, and you felt sick to your stomach. You couldn’t look away from his face. He still gazed at you with love in his eyes, though the light in them seemed to dim with each passing second.

He kept saying something to you, but his words were muffled and his lips blurred as the vision faltered.

Imani took hold of your hand, "Perhaps there's a reason. Maybe you don't have to end his life. You can alter fate."

Her smile was reassuring. "Perhaps the crystal ball showed us the vision so we could prevent it."

"Yeah, fates change, and perhaps you have a role in that too," Estella shrugged.

"You saw me in the vision too. Maybe I'm meant to help you prevent kill—" Camilla attempted to say.

"You would support her, not stop her, you witch," Stella huffed.

"Damn, you're right, and I did," she proudly pointed at the crystal ball. She wasn't phased; you knew she cared. Her only aim was to make you laugh, and it worked as you smiled slightly.

Rubbing your hand over your face, you sighed heavily, a frown etching your features. "Let's go. We've got work to do."

• •

Walking into the cold night, small fae lights scatered across the city illuminated the way to your destination for the four of you. The darkness and chill sent shivers down your spine, you regretted not dressing warmer. Stella rubbed her hands over her arms as her teeth chattered.

"It's freezing. Damn, I should have dressed better," she cursed. Cam and Imani chuckled softly, while you managed only a faint smile in response.

Hewn city was unsightly, to say the least. The dim light didn't alleviate the sight, instead it highlighted its unattractive aesthetic. The area where you and your friends were taken was particularly dark, with only occasional glimpses of light penetrating the neighborhoods you all inhabited.

You and your friends heard of the world above, the different courts, the continent, the magical stories. You've heard how happiness and love supposedly filled the air.

When you were younger you had gathered as kids around the merchants, to listen to the stories, them recounting everything that happened up there.

They spoke of the green fields, the summer breeze, the blazing sun on hot summer days and the snow-covered fields in the winter court.

They described magical libraries accessible to people from all walks of life; the poor, rich, priestesses, females.

Every month, they returned with different foods and snacks from the various courts, such as the Pear and brown butter strudel from autumn and the pistachio ice cream and butter pecan from winter, showcasing you all the diverse culinary enjoyed above ground.

They also displayed the colorful garments worn in different courts, offering glimpses of the vibrant, varied clothing thriving beyond the confines of the Hewn City.

You used to dream about the dresses they described at night. You still remember lying in bed at 18, hearing the distant sounds of the ball echoing through the city, imagining yourself dancing with a charming male who would rescue you from your family.

You recall the shimmering fabrics worn by females during winter festivities, the luxurious velvet garments people wore in Velaris during the solstice, and the intricate jewelry crafted in Hewn City, kept hidden from your people in fear of theft and only presented and sold outside its borders.

Above ground, the world was colorful and lively in contrast to the life the citizens of Hewn city had to endure. Hewn City was cold and dark, with only the rich and the nobility granted access to places touched by the sun and the privilege of entering Velaris.

However, even they faced limitations on where they could go and how often they were allowed above ground and who even sold to them.

No one liked the High Lord. He had trapped you all down here under this mountain to fend and fight for yourselves. Everyone agreed that he and his goons were nothing but hypocrites. Supposedly welcoming of all but the citizens of the Hewn City and Illyria. This sadly included your mate too.

People down here were indeed cruel, but being nice and naive wouldn't save you, it would only get you used and killed or worse sold. You all had already been dealt different kinds of bad cards, but being sold into slavery was undoubtedly the worst of them all.

Trying to survive, you and your friends lived together in your house.

Your group consisted of you four girls: Estella, Imani, Camilla, and yourself.

Camilla, the daughter of Lord Thanatos, who was a close friend of Lord Keir. She was the one who had the ties to the aristocrats. Rejecting multiple suitors, almost killing her last fiancé and generally causing trouble for her father, it was a wonder how she still lived.

Despite her efforts to talk to him and initiate change for the people, she was reminded of her place as a women in this society.

She knew that running away wasn't an option, as her father would likely lock her in her room until they found someone who was willing enough to handle her.

He barely tolerated her coming and going and how she would hang out with you all as if you were beneath her.

She still joined you and the other two, to have somewhat of an escape, somewhere she could feel comfortable.

Estella joined you for the same reason; she was alone and seeking safety. She had a mysterious aura around herself and aside from her disdain for men and love for teasing Camilla, not much was known about her. Despite her quiet demeanor, Estella had a tendency to surprise you. Get too close, and you risked losing your eyes to her sharp nails—an experience you had witnessed firsthand.

Centuries ago, Imani healed your injuries with her witch powers, binding you to her ever since. Her motherly instincts led her to „adopt“ the three of you, completing the last piece of your puzzle. She only practices her powers at home, for if they were ever discovered, you would all be condemned to the dungeons to face the merciless beasts.

You lived good, well had lived a pleasant life. Your family, once part of the upper class, fell from grace a century ago, with your family of six meeting an untimely demise, you the only survivor.

It was deemed an accidental death, but deep down, you knew something was wrong.

Since then, you've been living with Imani and Estella in the house left to you by your parents. Without a father or younger brothers to control you, and lacking a husband, you were deemed shameless for not conforming to higher society.

Offers from men came left and right not only to get your inheritance but also your estate and body.

• •

After only a few steps, you entered the warmth of the bar. The sound of piano music and laughter filled the air. The customers were already drunk, the booths occupied by young soldiers enjoying their free time and chatting with the bartender.

Your eyes roamed the bar, searching for him. It would have been easier if everyone didn't have dark hair and was dressed in black down here.

"Oi, fuckface, there you are!" Cam yelled across the bar.

"Fucking quiet down," you hissed.

Attracting attention was never smart. Thankfully, people only glanced for a second before turning back to their conversations.

Black eyes met yours as he walked toward you, clad in the black leathers of the Darkbringer Legion.

"I wonder how you made it to 500 years and survived. How hasn’t anyone killed you yet?"

Calix approached, grinning slyly.

"I often have the urge," you said, grinning back.

"I'm too cute to be killed," Cam huffed, tossing a strand of her honey-blond hair back.

"I keep her on a leash," Stella grinned, giving Cam a playful shove.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Stella, as if—" Cam retorted.

"Oh god, these two will never stop," Kieran remarked as he approached.

"What are they arguing about now?"

"Everything and anything," you replied wearily.

"They never quit," Imani sighed, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"You act like you don't enjoy it," you teased with a smirk, she only grinned.

"So, how has soldier life been treating you?" Imani asked, her eyes sparkling like stars. Her crush on him couldn't have been more obvious, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Let's get to our table before Cam decides to kill Calix next to merchants over there," you said, pointing behind you at Cam, who was gripping Calix by the neck. The group was already eyeing them, probably thinking of harvesting his organs.

Kieran was too immersed in Imani's eyes to hear what you said. You could only look at them, aching to be that in love. You couldn't shake the longing for the love you'd felt in the vision. You felt fuzzy and warm remembering Azriel's eyes, the way he looked at you with so much affection, the way his large hands held you, how in love you both seemed. You could only hope to feel that way again, even though a nagging thought reminded you he was basically your enemy.

Seconds passed before your group gathered and went to a shadowy corner at the end of the bar. You sat next to Kieran, feeling the others close in around you, their eyes focused intently on Kieran. From the table, you had a clear view of every possible exit and patron. Most patrons were drunk enough not to notice your table or smart enough to stay away.

"So, what have you guys got?" Stella asked, snacking on some chips.

"Good news and bad news," Calix replied, putting his arm around Camilla's chair, subtly pulling her closer to him.

Kieran took a sip of his drink, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously as he grinned.

"Your father has done it," he said with a smirk. Camilla only raised her brow.

"He arrested your piece of shit ex-fiancé. He's been in the dungeons for a few days."

Cam snickered as she flicked her caramel blonde hair behind her back, unintentionally hitting Calix square in the face. His eyes narrowed before he retaliated by pinching her side. She jumped with a yelp, shooting him a glare.

"Children, concentrate!" you exclaimed.

Those two could never sit still, but you found yourself envious of their playful dynamic. Was your relationship with your mate similar, or was it more like Imani's and Kieran's—soft, loving, and peaceful?

Kieran continued, “He was caught in bed with Lord Radbrick’s wife - by none other than, you guessed it, Lord Radbrick himself.”

Lord Radbrick, a close companion of Camilla's father, Lord Thanatos, was understandably furious.

It was rather surprising that Randell would pursue Lady Radbrick at all. As far as you knew, he typically avoided older women whom he considered “used” or “damaged goods.”

"I knew he was stupid, but I never knew he was this damn dumb," Cam shook her head in disbelief.

"I never knew he liked her. Isn't she, like, really old?"

"Well, she's pregnant."

At that, Cam fell out of her chair, bumping into Calix, while you snorted your drink out of your nose. Imani coughed, her drink going down the wrong way and Stella laughed out loud.

"Unbelievable!" you laughed, wiping the tears away.

After a while the atmosphere calmed down, it got tense as Kieran glanced at Calix, who placed a file on the table with a serious expression.

You opened the file, reading his details aloud. Thanks to the magical bubble Stella had put up, no one outside your group could overhear your conversation.

"He is the new target you have to take care of," Calix said gravely.

The man's file was full of crimes, indicating he was a more challenging criminal to catch than the others - involved in trafficking, robbery, and rape, everything under Velaris.

"I can't believe this," you said with anger evident in your voice.

"He seems to be an upstanding citizen," Stella added sarcastically.

His file revealed he was a well known predator, with multiple victims, mostly young children - girls and boys alike - especially in the more rundown areas of Hewn City. He had fled from Velaris, and the authorities had not been able to catch him—or, in other words, they did not care enough to save our children from him.

"He was last seen at Stronghold's Inn," Calix said, his voice low. "He's been staying in one of their rooms for two days. Stronghold's daughter mentioned he hasn't done anything yet, but he's been lurking around the young women serving there. She said he tried to touch a waitress, but the cook intervened before it went any further." Calix rotated his ring around his pointy finger, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"I hate people from Velaris. They should perish and stop letting their degenerates enter our city," Camilla snarled, her red eyes locking onto yours.

"Didn't you know we're less worthy of our High Lord?" you retorted, laughter laced with bitterness.

"We should be grateful we're even allowed to live," Imani quoted the High Lord.

"I will never forget why we started taking care of the problems in the city! He is the root of all evil! Him and Keir!" Kieran's eyes blazed with fury.

"At least we should be proud we managed to get rid of some problems" Stella sneered, her jaw tight with anger. "We can't expect them to help us, not even The Morrigan."

"That bitch should have been dead anyway. I thought if she went to Velaris, she would be able to help us, but no, she made it even worse," Camilla spat, her voice dripping with contempt.

You all knew what she was talking about. Laws had changed after Morrigan went to Velaris and the High Lord’s son Rhysand came into power. They laws got stricter and the problems bigger, you could only assume they were out to punish the whole city for what had been done to her.

Morrigan was a greedy and prideful person, her demand for diamonds and rubies only grew stronger over the years. The number of people dying in the mines increased tenfold; mothers lost their sons, children their fathers, wives their husbands...

During Amarantha's reign, times were even worse - a period you’d like to forget if you could. It was the most brutal time, marked by a high rise in famine, crime, and a horrifying rise in cannibalism. Half of the population had already been slain by Amarantha, but the misfortunes didn't end there. Degenerates had overrun the city, and your group took it upon yourselves to make it safer.

You'd been eliminating threats left and right, yet it felt like more criminals kept appearing out of nowhere.

• •

Slipping on the blood-covered floor wasn’t on your agenda today, it covered your skin in a sticky, warm coat. It felt disgusting.

You were brutal today, maybe you'd been too harsh, but the thrill of his fear, his powerlessness - it fed something deep within you, it felt like justice. You wanted him to feel how his victims had felt.

A few scratches and a bruised cheek were all you had to show from his pitiful resistance.

With a grim smile, you lifted his head from the floor, one less threat loomed over your people.

He should have been glad it was you if Camilla had pursued him instead, he might have been left alive but with missing limbs.

You preferred methods involving torture and hand-to-hand combat for dealing with your targets. Occasionally, you resorted to quick measures or utilised your abilities, which still required further refinement.

Your abilities were known as dream manipulation, similar to that of the Daemati; you could not only delve into their minds, read their thoughts but also bent them to your will. With this you would ensnare them in dreamscapes, trapping them indefinitely in their worst nightmares, possibly to never awaken again.

You had to stand up Imani would soon arrive to clean up the mess you had left behind. Exhausted you realised everything would need to be replaced, cleaned, and the area sanitized.

You made a note to yourself that you definitely needed to work on finishing your work faster and more efficiently.

• •

Azriel had been sleeping more and more the recent days, yet he felt even more exhausted than usual. He struggled through training, unable to concentrate fully. His shadows, typically calm, now enveloped him more protectively than ever before, almost completely concealing his body. Others could barely see or only caught glimpses of Azriel's face amidst the shadows.

Despite this, he didn't mind; he was consumed by obsession. He had seen her, his mate; he was sure of it. He had been dreaming of her, but he could never see her face, or at least he couldn't remember it upon waking. He remembered her soft skin against his scarred and rough hands, her gentle touches, her scent, and the way their heartbeats seemed to synchronize, making him feel whole.

Even days later, he could still feel the warmth of those kisses on his skin. He was reeling while trying to find her again, the feeling she gave him, he felt above the world with her, a high he never wanted to loose, she made him feel safe and fuzzy.

The lack of sleep has drained him of his energy, his attention span had also been wavering, affecting his ability to listen to anything being said to him.

The others of course had been noticing, but Azriel would never talk about what had been bothering him.

It was his own yearning for a partner, his own delusion, his secret. Nobody should know about her until he found her or was certain she existed.

Flying through Velaris he was trying to look for her, trying to find her scent. Thoughts of her consumed his day, his shadows in a frenzy themselves. He thought of her day and night.

His emotions were high and low, he was happy one day and sad the other. He wanted to finally hold her, shower her in his love, fly with her, love her, he was craving her. His feelings and thoughts weren’t logical, he knew that, because he didn’t know her yet but he was convinced she could only be perfect.

• •

30 minutes after Dinner Rhys called him into his office.

"There had been multiple reports from Keir. People have been disappearing - high officials, merchants, soldiers, and others. Find out where they've been going or if they are still alive," he instructed. Azriel nodded silently, going towards the door.

"Az, please talk to us if you’re having any issues. We are your brothers," Rhys urged, concern etched on his face.

Azriel stopped mid-step before walking out, then turned around. He managed a small smile at Rhys. "There’s nothing wrong. I'm good. I’ve just been busy," he said softly.

Rhys wasn’t buying it. His eyes were tired, his face pale, and he hadn’t shaved in a long time. His black hair was unkempt, and his shadows moved about him more protectively. Rhys knew he shouldn't assign Azriel to any missions, but Azriel had insisted on working.

• •

He needed to concentrate, otherwise, this situation could escalate further with Keir. If those involved aligned themselves to rebel or simply disappeared, it could cause trouble. He didn't care much if they were dead, his priority was finding the culprit responsible if harm had come to them.

The air in Hewn City reeked of dirt and decay, like a rotting washcloth, but Azriel's nose would quickly adjust. The Court of Nightmares lived up to its name; it was darker than the nights in Illyria, buried underneath Velaris with so few lights illuminating the unbuilt and filthy streets.

Azriel knew this area well enough to pinpoint where most incidents occurred.

Entering Stronghold's Inn, Azriel's shadows swirled in a frenzy throughout the tavern before fixating on a female. His eyes widened as he caught her scent.

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters @fieldofdaisiies

A Kiss with Death - Taglist: @bubybubsters @fieldofdaisiies @sidthedollface2 @rcarbo1 @megwan @duhgurl @lilah-asteria

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whateverisbeautiful · 2 months

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♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#2: The Dreamgirl (1.01)

As Rick lies on the ground bleeding out from chopping off his own hand, he goes to the one place and the one person who makes him most feel alive, just like he did when bleeding out on that bridge. All these years later, he still turns to Michonne as his safe haven in trying times. 🥲

It's been clear for years that Michonne was Rick’s dream girl, but I absolutely adore the way TOWL just confirmed it even more with these great Richonne dream sequences...

I love that, after a crazy heartbreaking first few minutes of TOWL, we then get to see Richonne interacting with each other right away through Rick's calming dream. I really was not expecting that we’d be seeing Rick and Michonne on screen together in episode 1, so it was such a pleasant surprise that they found a way to have them together through the dreams. 🙌🏽

I remember seeing Michonne show up on the bench and just feeling instantly emotional and elated that they were really back. 🥹 After all the years and patience waiting to see them back on our screen the time had finally come to see Richonne on TV together again. And one thing Andy and Danai said we’re going to remind y’all of immediately is that Rick and Michonne have impeccable captivating chemistry in any world. Oh, there’s so much to say about these dreams and I'm going to try to say it all. 😋

So Rick fades out after cutting off his hand to get back to her and then he starts to recall an array of flashing memories. The clips include the burning crops of his childhood home which will have added significance by the end of the ep, windmills, a chopper, a prison cell, a home, and then he sees Michonne’s eyes (which I like to think is a suggestion that her eyes are one of his favorite features).

gif cred: @nerd4music

Then the memories cut to the stairs of Rick's family home during the night of the fire from his youth and then the bridge burning as he screams Michonnes name and recalls when she screamed his that devastating day on the bridge. And my heart was shattered yet again to learn that this implies Rick did in fact hear Michonne scream his name that day. 🥺 The torment of that is immense for many reasons.

One of Rick's favorite things in life was making Michonne happy and their relationship was one of joy yet the note they ended on was tragic with Rick hearing Michonne screaming his name in agony as he’s then taken from her for years. It means Rick doesn’t just know Michonne’s in pain by the loss of him he straight up heard a glimpse of that pain and isn’t able to alleviate it by letting her know he’s alive and still completely in love with her out here. That tragic bridge moment is the last memory he has of her. Pain. 💔

And I’m curious about the part when Rick yells Michonne's name. I saw someone say the sound bite is taken from a TWD scene but I’m more curious about the reason behind the use of it here in TOWL. At first, I thought it was implying that he too yelled out for Michonne while he was on the bridge, suggesting her name was in fact the last thing he said before thinking he was going to die. But in these memory flashes, Rick says her name before Michonne calls his name so it’s not so much a response to her.

So then I thought they were implying that his psyche was screaming out for her because he needs her, and that's why he hears her call out to him from the awful bridge memory. Not sure, but either way I liked hearing both of them passionately call out to each other. You can fully hear the way they love each other and the way losing each other is a unique kind of horrible for them both.

Like not even being dramatic, Rick and Michonne calling out for each other like that feels like what their souls have been doing every day they’ve been apart.

So then, almost in his subconscious' own act of resilience, Rick aims to overwrite that tragic real memory of the bridge exploding, Michonne hurting, and being separated from his true love, by immediately going to a happy place. To combat the real memory it’s like his mind has to quickly run to a place where they're at peace. Where Michonne's just enjoying her lunch at the park and he’s just a regular guy, falling for her at first sight.

Rick knows the truth is they’re both not okay right now and to offer himself some solace his mind has to go to a place where they are okay. Better yet, his mind has to go to a place where they fall in love all over again, as falling in love with Michonne is clearly a very cherished achievement and a memorable part of Rick’s journey. I love that he loves that they fell in love. 🥹

At the start of the dream, Rick stands lost and frustrated in the park, and then we hear Michonne say “Excuse me?”

gif cred: @kris-lulu

Rick turns around and y’all for a millisecond I thought they were implying Rick Grimes was dreaming about Danai Gurira herself lol. Like nawt TOWL breaking the fourth wall. 🤭

But being serious, I was overjoyed to see my lovely Michonne back on screen and with Rick. She looked stunning in her purple outfit. The wardrobe department was on point for TOWL throughout.

Also, let me just say when it comes to Danai - every color reaches its fullest potential on her. Like the day she wears the color is the best that color has ever looked. And she was glowing in the purple. 👏🏽👑💜

gif cred: @kris-lulu

I also love how she and Rick are both wearing similar colors to what they wore the day their paths first crossed in TWD 3.06. And while it tickles me a bit that they’re implying Rick's subconscious could conjure up Michonne in cute waist-length box braids and this stylish purple fit imma just chalk it up to Rick’s psyche having some great taste and culture. 😋 Rick’s dreams are correct in knowing Michonne would be a fashion it-girl in the world before. 👌🏽

I adore that when Rick turns around and sees Michonne on the bench he falls for her instantly. Like you see him be fully taken aback and smitten by this beautiful woman he’s just laid eyes on. The way he’s blinking and at a loss for words saying “I mean…” The cutest. 😊It makes sense that he’d be captivated by just taking one look at her.

gif cred: @kris-lulu

And y’all my interpretation of these dreams is that they are almost like a stage play metaphorically depicting elements of Richonne’s real-life journey. Like in TWD, Michonne entered Rick’s life when he was extremely lost and while love grew more in season 4 he was very quickly captivated by her in season 3. He also needs her help right away in both the dream and in their TWD journey.

In the dream, Rick struggles to find words since Cupid plunged that arrow smack dab into his heart the moment he laid eyes on her so Michonne sorta cutely teases him asking “You mean something else?”

gif cred: @richardgrimes

Rick, who is just super adorable in these dreams btw, finally finds words and gives her the whole scoop nervously saying “I’m not from around here. I’m lost and I’m late for work. Do you know, uh, cartography?”

Ok, first of all, the cutest again lol. It’s hilarious that rather than just ask if Michonne knows directions to where he needs to go he asks if she knows the whole science of drawing maps. 🤓

gif cred: @kris-lulu

And Michonne thinks it’s cute too as she laughs and says “I don’t. I just know where things are.”

gif cred: @lousolversons

Rick stoops down to show her the map and points to the place he's looking for, saying, “That's where I need to be, but I don’t know where I am.”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Michonne takes a look at the map and quickly has the answer as she warmly smiles and points saying “That way. Past the big blue building.” She knows the way and she’s leading him to where he needs to be just like real life. And the way she smiles at him here is so sweet and encouraging.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Rick takes in her words, even quietly repeating them to himself, while still seeming a bit nervous and lost.

gif cred: @richardgrimes

Then Michonne looks right up at him as she says “You’ll get there. I believe in you.” She, just like the real Michonne can sense Rick’s inner feelings of anxiety, and she, just like the real Michonne, offers such a beautiful comfort to him.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I feel these dreams make it clear Rick loves her smile and warm aura. And he especially loves her belief in him.

Like I adore the way this shows that Rick knows and values how much Michonne believed in him in their life together. She was always such an affirming and supportive presence in his life and it’s so meaningful to see him find solace in that aspect of their dynamic within his dreams. His wife’s belief in him always makes him feel like he can do anything no matter how lost.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Dream Rick takes her words to heart as he gives Michonne this sincere smile, genuinely appreciating the belief. And once again, signature to Rick irl, he has a quiet moment of just staring at her, taking her in with love in his eyes.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And then he gently asks “Do you mind if I just…?” wanting to pause everything else going on and just sit by her side which I love and is true to Rick’s character. Work and the whole damn world can always wait when he’s with her.

Michonne smiles and says “I don’t mind” as Rick takes a seat next to her and all gentlemanly says “I don’t mean to interrupt your lunch. You work around here?” Look at him trying to make small talk just to get more time with her. 😊

And Michonne looks right at him, liking what she’s seeing, as she calmly says “I do” and Rick asks “You like it?” This moment reminds me of that sociable season 5 scene when Rick wanted to get to know Michonne more personally, asking about how she got so good with her sword and if she misses it, and Michonne opened up about what she really misses which is people they love.

In the dream, Michonne is also honest answering Rick’s question as she thinks for a moment and says “It’s not where I want to be.” Then she so tenderly asks Rick “Are you where you wanna be?” And the Richonne tones...ahhh 😍. I just can’t get over how sweet this all is. I love these dreams so much and am smiling from ear to ear as I write and rewatch.

Rick's dreams are the only moment of tenderness he experiences since being taken and it's heartwarming how he knows that even if just in his mind he can always turn to Michonne for comfort and care.

Upon hearing Michonne's question, Rick, looking at her like he has found the greatest gold in all the land, smiles and warmly says “Yeah.” with no hesitation. Because he’s with her - so in this moment he’s exactly where he wants to be. 😭

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

First- I love them so much it hurts. His delivery was perfect. Hearing their tender Richonne tones for the first time in 6 years made me emotional.

And I love that they don’t cut away from the moment right away as Rick stares right at her basically wanting Michonne to know that his “yeah” is completely about her. She’s where he wants to be. She’s home. The second he laid eyes on her on that bench, work was no longer the destination. It was her. I repeat Rick and Michonne are everything to each other (and to me 🙋🏽‍♀️).

And then Michonne smiles and looks away, smitten by Rick yet again as she so often was irl. I love how the quietness of this moment made room for the loudness of their chemistry.

gif cred: @jdmorganz

I also really like the metaphor of it all so I just had to break down the ways I feel this dream metaphorically depicts Richonne's TWD love story.

Paralleling Richonne's TWD journey, Rick is lost, frustrated, in all new territory, and unsure where to turn in the dream just like he was when Michonne met him as an overwhelmed new single dad going through it at the prison.

Then in both the dream and the start of Richonne's TWD journey, Rick is instantly taken aback by the presence of this captivating woman in purple who makes him a little nervous and he tries to pass it off as stranger nervousness when deep down something else is stirring his nervousness. And that something is that intrinsic sense that he’s met his match.

And then Rick is immediately in need of direction and Michonne is the one with the answers on how to get where he needs to be. Rick needing Michonne's direction played out in a literal sense and in a larger figurative sense in TWD. One of the first things Rick had to rely on Michonne for was directions to Woodbury to save Glenn and Maggie.

And while Michonne may not have the answers to everything, like cartography, she does prove time and time again to have the exact answers Rick needs like knowing how to get him to his kidnapped friends or how to get to his job in the dream.

And as Rick and Michonne's relationship progresses she continues to guide him with him ready and willing to follow her lead.

Michonne also quickly can see Rick and the emotions he holds under the surface. And knowing he’s still anxious and unsure she offers him a genuinely motivating dose of encouragement. “You’ll get there. I believe in you.” feels similar to her encouraging affirmations like "You can find a way. We can find a way" in TWD 5.16. And both in their reality and the dream, her belief means the world to Rick.

In Rick's TOWL dream, Michonne is confident and charming and even a little teasy because Rick's mind knows her so well, and he often finds himself staring and mind being consumed by her, trying to not so subtly play off how much he adores her, similar to their dynamic in season 4.

And then in both the TOWL dream and their real-life journey, Rick's destination changes. Michonne's the destination now.

She becomes where Rick needs and wants to be and so instead of heading to the job where he’s already late, he sits awhile with her, eagerly wanting to get to know her more. And she lets him get closer, and further share her space, which elates him.

And finally, in both the dreams and their real-life journey Rick asks Michonne questions about herself and cares if she’s happy where she is. She’s honest enough that she’s not yet where she wants to be, aware she’s missing something in life (missing him). And as he's swiftly fallen in love with her he feels with every fiber of his being that he has found where he wants to be (with her.)

I also am of the mindset that the 'work' he thinks he has to get to in the dream represents the CRM rather than home. Which I’ll elaborate more when breaking down dream #2 & #3. But I especially think this because in these dreams both he and Michonne have places they have to be but it’s not home cuz home is with each other.

And when Rick sees her on this park bench he’s more than fine with not heading straight to work/'following the call of the CRM' because he’s found what he’s looking for when she shows up. Just like irl, he’s found his safe place. His home. His Michonne. 🤍

So then this beautiful moment is quickly ended as we cut to Rick in bed alone, waking from that precious dream of just a normal quiet, and peaceful day falling in love with his wife all over again.

It’s such a painful cut to see Rick go from being immersed in the warmth of his wife to being alone in a dreary room after the trauma of chopping his hand off.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

He wakes slowly, almost regretting that he’s had to wake up at all and return to reality. But I also like how the way he wakes up feels like he’s very used to these types of Richonne dreams. It seems it's his favorite part of life the last few years - going to bed and finding Michonne in his dreams to enjoy simple moments of bliss. He’s in love like they never left, y'all. And I love to see it.

So then, after waking from his dream we next get to see that Rick didn’t just hold onto Michonne through dreams but also through some very heartfelt letters and images. 🥲👌🏽

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.01 #RIR (2)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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libraryofloveletters · 5 months

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Bound By Fate

Jenson Button x Fem!Teammate Reader

series summery: the strings of life connect two people; teammates, friends, perhaps lovers. Even when you think you’ve gotten rid of him, the strings of life pull you back in. some things are just meant to be.

author's note: this was prompted by god knows what but this is my new passion project. jenson girlies, this one is for you. shoutout to @mev33 for losing her mind over this with me <333

bound by fate taglist!

chapter one: united front

attached at the hip, jenson button and y/n l/n are the unstoppable duo. the same soul in two bodies. all but 4 points separating them. // “where you go, I go. What you see, I see. I know I’d never be me without the security of your loving arms, keeping me from harm. Put your hand in my hand and we’ll stand.” - Skyfall by Adele

chapter two: time cast a spell on you

spending nine months with someone is a long time, especially when you’re forced to be with them. feelings grow, both good and bad. - “Time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me. I know I could have I loved you but you would not let me. I’ll follow you down ‘till the sound of my voice can haunt you. Oh give it just a chance. You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loves you.” - Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac

chapter three: the blame is on you

two mclarens spin out, drivers at each other’s throat but only one’s to blame. what’s said on track doesn’t always stay there. - “It’s my own design, it’s my own remorse. Help me to decide, help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world.” - Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tear For Fear

chapter four: no grace

jenson can’t take it anymore; the back stabbing, the betrayal. he did what he thought was best and left. on what was supposed to be the happiest night of y/n’s life, she’s heartbroken and upset. — “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, so the battleships will sink beneath the waves. You had to kill me, but it kills you just the same. Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. You turned into your worst fears and you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain. Crossing out the good years and you’re cursing my name, wishing I stayed.” - My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift

chapter five: the final tango

y/n and jenson find themselves front and centre, smiling for the cameras in their sunday bests, yet their hearts are in different places. - “it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you. I’ve done the math, there’s no solution. We’ll never last. Why can’t I let go of this?” - Promise by Laufey

chapter six: secrets of us

when all is said and done, it’s never really over, is it? jenson spills far too much in a tell-all interview that back fires on both he and y/n. - “And you don’t seem to understand, a shame you seemed an honest man. And the fears you hold so dear will turn to whisper in your ear. And you know what they say might hurt you and you know that it means so much, and you don’t even feel a thing.” - Duvet by Bôa

chapter seven: a chapter of me

four long years have passed, both y/n and jenson are in different places of life but they find themselves at Silverstone, together once again. jenson’s a commentator and y/n’s still a racer. seems the dust has settled. - “Just wanna let this story die, and i’ll be alright. We can’t be friends, but I’d like to just pretend. You cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again.” - We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande

chapter eight: a glimpse into the past

people come and go, life moves on; that has always been your view. you can’t move on when your past comes back to haunt you. - “So I ask myself, do I let you go or do I keep you in the frame of my mind? Now I’m growing wise to your sugar coated lies, nothing’s sweet about my misery. Yeah, I finally found what went wrong, i finally found the wrong in you.” - On My Mind by Jorja Smith

chapter nine: twelve steps forward, one step back

the final race of your life, mixed emotions truly. your career was one out of a movie, you’re waiting for the final shoe to drop and when it does, it hits you hard. - “Isn’t it strange? I am still me, you are still you, in the same place. Isn’t it strange how people can change from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?” - Strange by Celeste

epilogue - chapter ten: the last bow

life post retirement is a funny thing, you thought you’d be having fun but you’re bored out of your mind. a solo trip results in seeing a ghost from your past. - “I'm sure we're taller in other dimension, you say we’re small and not worth a mention. You’re tired of movin’, your body’s achin’. We could vacay, there’s places to go. Clearly this isn’t all that there is, can’t take what’s been given. But we’re so okay here, we’re doing fine.” - White Ferrari by Frank Ocean

#bound by fate series #jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #jenson button x y/n #jenson button f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 series

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no-less-than-a-god · 6 months

Text

She’s been chained for days, strung along behind a fox. She doesn’t know where they’re going, who her captors are. All she knows is that she was taken as her village burned, and has been forced to walk since.

She’s hungry. Tired. Scared. She doesn’t know if she’ll live through this. She isn’t hopeful that she will.

The dog trips over her own bruised feet, but quickly rights herself before one of the robed heretics notice. She almost slams into the fox in front of her, but she’s lucky.

Behind her, a deer quietly speaks. “Are you okay?”

“Quiet!” a heretic suddenly yells, and the dog hears the sound of something dull hitting something solid, and a whimper.

She does her best to quell a whine of her own.

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The dog is awoken from her light slumber by the sound of someone screaming for their life. Startling, she jerks her head around to either side of her, finding the fox and deer equally awake and nervous, but untouched.

The scream comes again, closer, and she can hear it beneath the voice: laughing heretics.

“NO!” the voice shrieks, and the dog hears branches snap beneath feet as two heretics return to the makeshift camp. The other three heretics rise as the bushes part, and the dog hears gasps.

From the gaps between hoods, dimly lit from the campfire in front of her, the dog sees a body squirming in the arms of a heretic, chained and slung over their shoulder. She can’t tell who or what they are, or why the heretics seem so excited.

“Finally,” one of them speaks giddily. “Where were you hiding, huh? We’ve been looking for you.”

“UNHAND ME!” the stranger screams, and a leg flies out, kicking their captor in the hooded face. They stumble back a step before finding their footing again, and suddenly, the stranger is being thrown into the dirt, an audible cry being wretched out of them.

“Try that again and you will regret it,” the heretic warns, knife drawn, and the camp falls silent, save for the sound of the stranger’s panting.

The heretic straightens, and gestures to the three comrades in front of them. “Lock them up in the front. We’ll continue at once.”

The new victim is picked up by a single heretic, and the dog catches a glimpse of a dirty white as they’re dragged. They’re surrounded by heretics as they’re pulled and prodded towards the other captured victims, and the sound of chains being moved almost covers the sound of sobbing.

After a minute of rustling, the heretics finally move away, and the dog can finally get a look at the stranger.

Her eyes go wide at what she sees in front of her. Behind her, the deer gasps.

It’s a lamb.

The dog thought there was none left. But in front of her, chained and sobbing, is a lamb.

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They don’t speak, after being threatened. For the three days they walk nonstop, they don’t say a word; they just look on, eyes glazed over the mouth set straight. Nothing.

Not until they get to the Bishops.

The dog starts trembling in terror the moment she sees them, gathered together along the wall of the damaged temple the four of them were dragged into, filled with watching heretics. It’s one thing to know of the gods, but to see them? Dread strikes the dog, and she can’t help the fearful whine that escapes her.

She watches, terrified, as the lamb is unshackled from the rest of them, and brought to the middle of the temple. There, amidst dark red engravings along the floor, is a chopping block, and a large beast with an axe just as big.

They’re pushed, and they fall upon the block. Silently, they look up, and four gods stare back.

“Before us,” Bishop Heket begins, “stands the last of its kind. All others we have hunted down and put to the blade.”

“No!” the last lamb cries out in anguish, and the dog’s heart drops. The last lamb lays before her, destined to die.

“With this final sacrifice,” Bishop Leshy follows his sister, “the prophecy will be impossible to fulfill."

What prophecy, the dog wants to scream. Is that why the lambs were put to death?

“The heretic who lies bound below,” Bishop Kallamar adds, “will be condemned to eternal captivity."

“And the Old Faith shall be preserved." Bishop Shamura is the last to speak, and the lamb starts to shake, shoulders heaving. The dog can’t see their face anymore, but they know they’re crying.

The large beast raises his axe high into the air, and steadies it.

The lamb still looks upon the Bishops as an audible cry escapes them.

The axe comes down, and the dog watches numbly as it cuts through flesh, decapitating the last lamb. Their head falls with a sickening thump, and the dog feels tears welling in her eyes.

The last one, she thinks, they just killed the last one.

Something black captures the dog’s gaze, and she looks to see the Bishops curtained by an inky, moving substance. When it falls to the stone floor, she’s surprised to see they’re no longer there.

“Brutus,” a heretic calls, and the large beast turns, blood dripping from his axe. “Slay these other three. We shall feast on their remains.”

“No!” the deer wails. “Spare us!”

The fox shakes his head, and backs up, tripping into both the dog and deer behind him. Together, the three fall to the floor, cowering in terror as the beast slowly approaches them, axe dragging along the stone with a grating noise.

The beast draws close, and slowly raises his axe.

Behind him, movement begins.

A body raises itself, shackles around its bounded wrists dropping loudly. All eyes turn to the middle of the room, as a head reattaches itself to its body, sinew and muscle knitting together.

Red and black encircle the healing neck, and a collar forms around it. A bell jingles in the air.

The lamb, alive, turns as something red falls behind their back. In one of their hands is a dagger, a red eye seated in the blade. Their eyes are bleeding red.

The lamb, who should be dead, screams. It’s not the scream the dog remembers hearing the night the heretics found them, no; this scream is angry, and has something eldritch in it.

It’s carnage. The lamb kills them all in less than a minute, the wounds they gain healing immediately. They don’t falter once, don’t pause a single time.

Even the executioner falls with a single blow, hitting the floor unmoving. The lamb only steps over the body, and stands before the shackled, trembling victims.

They blink. The blood in their eyes slowly stops, and the whites of their eyes return. They crouch down, and with one swipe of their dagger the fox is freed. Two more swipes, and the dog and deer are freed too.

They stand. The dagger melts into something black, and flies from the lamb’s grip. It arcs to above their head, and reforms into the shape of a black crown, a red eye blinking open to stare back at them.

The lamb, the last of their kind, holds out a hand to the three of them. “Let’s get out of here,” they say.

It’s the dog that takes their hand first.

something possessed me LSKHDGS anyways.. the Lamb's sacrifice from the pov of what became the first three followers

(Maybe.. I'll write another version of this from the Lamb's pov...)

#loredump #fickle thing #drabbling ichor #cult of the lamb #cotl

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nights-at-crystarium · 1 month

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i just wanted to pop by and gush about how incredibly well written vivi is because GOD. his story unfolding has made me reconsider several story beats about my wol and thats an amazing thing

theres two things that i think uve done especially well with his storytelling, being that vivi feels like an almost complete enigma to the reader, despite how intimate this story is, and the fact that vivi feels incredibly human - almost TOO human to be comfortable with

so to elaborate on the first point - i think a lot of us (and certainly i can) echo thancreds sentiment that he doesn't know vivian rell, because as intimate as this story can get with his pov, in the end, much like someone you'd meet in real life, we don't know much about him before the point we meet him, and any glimpses we get just signal that theres so much more to him than we get to see. and as much as we DO know about him, i find that every time he does one of his blank, furrowed stares that signal he's thinking something, my brain practically lights on fire trying to figure out what he's considering. to that end i really like how enigmatic uve made him from a storytelling perspective, because it makes him feel so much more real!!! i honestly look forward a lot to learning more fragments (heh) of him and slowly piecing together a puzzle of him as the story goes on. i just want to rotate him in my head lol

but also, this does segue into my other point really well, which is the fact that vivis position as wol really seems to wear on him, and he seems for lack of a better word, completely exhausted! i know (myself included) write their wols with a trait of an almost unbreakable, iron will, which is very much still true in vivis case (again, anyone who gets to the point of shadowbringers without flat out giving up is incredibly strong by default) but showing him at his wits end, exhausted with the burdens of a hero, someone just so throughly *done* with what is, realistically, a pretty shit job is well... yeah! of course he is! he's only human, and he's what, saved the world 3 times now? seen countless die before him, powerless to save them, of course he's numb. the fact that the most defining experiences of the first for him are filled with mostly such... benign experiences, and that the major, climatic moments of shadowbringers get as much fanfare as a forlong gaze, or a like. him hanging out with his fairy bestie is such a cool storytelling decision. (also before i ramble about this the decision to not even show tesleen is such an excellent decision bc like. it makes sense for him for this to not be such a significant moment. shes just another death, another tally to the thousands hes already seen. or maybe im reading WAYYY too hard into a decision to not highjack this love story with plot) basically, what i've been gushing about is the fact that vivi feels very much like a whole person, and is probably one of the most well realised wols ive ever read about. and his relationships with the world leaders, and this impossible burden hes forced to shoulder has gotten me to reconsider how i write my wol, because yeah! any hero might be strong-willed and resilient, but theyre still human, and the burden of a warrior of light is maybe, a little too much for anyone to bear.

i hope u could at least make something out of my rambles, but honestly to sum it all up i am incredibly captivated by vivi. i originally read fragments because i like ANY wolgraha content but now, i come back almost exclusively to see how vivi's story unfolds, and how graha eventually comes into the fold too. hes such a fascinating character, and i think youve done an incredible job of creating a well rounded hero, full of humanity!!! (also, if you want, feel free to post this on ur blog!!)

I think I shat myself like 5 times while reading this (positive)

Vivi being an enigma wasn't really part of the plan. We have a pool that's his lore, things I wanna tell, and a bottleneck through which it has to go. The comic format forces me to consider what bits of info to deliver when, there's only so much I can tell at a time. One deliberate choice I made is completely burn the bridge between ARR and ShB, skip, leave it empty. That already sparks questions when we see a different Vivi at the beginning of ShB (and gives me leeway, time to write with more nuance, I didn't Think about HW-SB in such scrupulous detail as ShB).

I wanted to tell a primarily ShB story from the start, but had less ambition, and planned to condense the angsty bits that you're reading nowadays into an infodump told by Vivi to no one (to the reader). Changing the receiving party to a tangible character who's eager to learn (Exarch) made the info easier to digest and anchored it in the world. This change, fwiw, happened in like 2022 while I drew the ARR arc, saw the warm reception, and got more excited about my thing. I constantly learn and try to improve, writing's a new toy that brings me tons of fun.

So, when I learned the new trick - telling things through other characters - I thought, why not make everyone slightly wrong, or rather, with a specific snapshot of Vivi in their head. Same happens irl, people only know the version of you that they're exposed to, the only person who knows the full and real you is you.

That brings me to the next point, why Vivi feels so human: I made him not as a wol/hero, but a guy I wanna ship with Exarch, his foil. Obligatory note it was dumb of me to ignore Emet's existence in that case, but that's already changed. Exarch denies himself the simple human joys, he plots his own fucking death, so I thought I'd give him a guy that teaches him how to enjoy being alive again. That was THE foundation of Vivi, his core. He's a manic pixie dream boy.

Then I started asking how and why: why he falls for Exarch specifically instead of ARRRaha? He's confident, selfish, casual (these traits are what Exarch lacks), emotionally intelligent, where did that come from? He must've had an utterly normal life and loving family before he became a hero. He grew up being appreciated and happy. OH, then his ass must LOATHE the current situation because he can't go back to that normal life! So on, so forth.

i find that every time he does one of his blank, furrowed stares that signal he's thinking something, my brain practically lights on fire trying to figure out what he's considering.

This's me carefully dropping the breadcrumbs and hoping that you notice them, and you go HOLY SHIT BREADCRUMBS, this's so validating ;w; <3 This's overtly called a story hook, though I prefer "door". So far this story's only opened doors, as in hinted at more stuff without immediately showing it. I love it when questions get delayed answers, when you get time to stew on it and build up anticipation, then, when the door finally closes, it's much more satisfying. I keep in mind all the doors I've opened, if something provokes a question, it's by design.

(also before i ramble about this the decision to not even show tesleen is such an excellent decision bc like. it makes sense for him for this to not be such a significant moment. shes just another death, another tally to the thousands hes already seen. or maybe im reading WAYYY too hard into a decision to not highjack this love story with plot)

You're 100% correct!! I'm not retelling the canon ShB story from a default wol pov, this's a custom thing focused on ships, therefore anything that doesn't contribute to said ships gets cut. You may read what's NOT shown as what Vivi doesn't pay attention to.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, this gave me so much motivation like you wouldn't know ;//////;

#with your help i wrote The Official Vivi Post it seems #vivien rell #replies #fragments feedback #fragments talk #text post

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