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prythianpages · 1 month

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Golden Hour | Eris x Reader

summary: Eris sneaks you out of the Forest house to watch the lantern festival in private and it's getting harder to ignore his feelings for you.

warnings: fluff a little break from the angst to come hehe

a/n: this one is inspired by Kacey Musgrave's Golden Hour and the movie Tangled (: you can find the masterlist for this series here or just read this as a stand alone imagine. All you have to know for context is that reader is arranged to be married to his younger brother.

“How do I look?”

Eris stares at you, feeling a surge of warmth rush to his neck. You stand right in front of him, arms extended slightly, dressed in his clothes. Though the garments hang loosely on your frame, they do nothing to conceal the beauty that radiates from you. He wonders if this is a mistake, if perhaps he should call off your–

“Just say I look hideous,” you muse, your voice pulling him back from his thoughts.

“You could never,” he murmurs as he meets your gaze.

Your eyes twinkle with anticipation. He had promised to take you–sneak you out, more like it– to the lantern festival and it was a vow he was determined to uphold. Anything to not let the light dim from your eyes.

Eris takes a deep breath and regrets it immediately as you overwhelm his senses. You smell like him and the thought pleases him more than it should, stirring emotions he dares not name. Clearing his throat, Eris forces himself to look away and says, “we should, um, we should go now.”

He then strides towards the full-length mirror, aware of your curious gaze following his every move. His fingertips trace along the edges of the mirror, seeking out the concealed lock with practiced precision. With a deft touch, he unlatches it, revealing the hidden doorway leading to the dark passageways nestled within the Forest house.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” you ask, peering over his shoulder into the shadows beyond.

Eris startles slightly at your sudden proximity. “Yes,” he reassures you, his hand rising as he summons forth his powers. Flames dance from his fingertips before he turns to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But we don’t have to go. We can simply stay here—”

You cut him off before he can finish his sentence, stepping forward eagerly and venturing into the concealed corridors. Eris follows suit, closing the door behind you both. Turning around, you cast a curious glance towards the door, relieved to find no glimpse into your room. You let Eris walk ahead to guide you both.

Your eyes are wide as you look around the dark, twisting passageways of the forest house. The only source of light are Eris’s flames. They cast shadows along the stone walls and as you walk behind him, you can’t help but ask again.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

You grimace as you nearly walk into a spider web, feeling a shiver run down your spine. It's undeniably creepy here. You can't help but wonder how Eris travels through these secret passageways alone just to see you.

“No monsters lurking in the shadows, right?”

Eris abruptly pauses on a step and then turns around, causing you to jump. You stand a step or two above and he grins, finally at eye level with you. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the flicker of mischief in his eyes. “The only monster in here is me.”

“Ha-ha,” you respond dryly, rolling your eyes. “Very funny.”

The flames flickering from his fingertips brighten, allowing him to study your face. Despite your attempt at a playful glare, he can see the lingering fear in your expression. “Here,” he says, holding out his other hand to you, smiling when you eagerly grasp onto it. “It’s best if you hold onto me for the rest of the way down. It’ll be easier for me to pull you away from the naga that linger in the shadows.”

“Eris!” you exclaim in a hushed tone, your grip tightening around his hand as you draw closer to him, practically clinging to his arm. “Stop it!”

Eris chuckles, a warmth spreading through him as he revels in your proximity. He continues to guide you both down the passageways, slowing his pace. He tells himself it’s for your sake but the smile gracing his lips betrays him. He just longs to linger in this moment.

When the two of you finally emerge from the passageways, you welcome the blinding sunlight. You let out a deep exhale of relief, thanking the Mother as you let go of his hand. It’s Eris’s turn to roll his eyes.

He pulls two cloaks out from the pocket realm. He helps you with yours before putting his on and placing a glamor over you both. One can never be too safe. He takes your hand again and the two of you walk quietly until you reach the edge of the forest house’s magic barrier.

“Are you ready?” Eris whispers.

“Yes,” you reply, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

Then, he winnows you both.

You gasp in awe at the meadow, lost in the beauty of the autumn flowers surrounding you. Eris smiles softly to himself as he walks toward the riverbed, where a canoe sits, gently rocking with the water. Wanting to make it onto the river before the sun sets, he prepares the canoe swiftly.

“It’s so peaceful here,” you remark, voice filled with wonder.

“I often come here,” Eris confides, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. “It’s a nice walk here too. I like bringing my hounds with me, even though Clover tends to spend her time eating the flowers,” he adds with a chuckle.

“I love her.”

There’s a fond smile on your face as you think about the adorable hound, picturing her frolicking amidst the blooms. She had been the first one to greet you with kindness upon your arrival. Your first friend.

"She loves you," Eris murmurs, his gaze softening. And who wouldn’t? He muses to himself as you step closer to him.

Your eyes meet, holding onto each other. There’s so much said in your gazes but no words dare to slip out. You’re so close to him, you can appreciate the light freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks. One more step and you’d be able to trace your lips over them. Eris swallows hard, as if he could sense the unspoken desire that pulses in the air. There’s a gleam in his amber eyes as he looks down at you, pulling you in and enticing you to take that step.

But your foot catches onto the cloak that is much too long for you. Your hands instinctively find purchase on his chest and he helps steady you, his hands on your waist sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. “Sorry,” you mutter, a blush staining your cheeks.

“Good thing I caught you this time. Wouldn’t want a repeat of last time now, would we?” Eris teases lightly, referring to the time you fell into the water fountain at the palace’s gardens.

“I’d bring you down with me again,” you reply, matching his tone.

Eris laughs. He realizes in that moment that he would let you. He’d follow you anywhere.

“You still owe me my book, you know.”

“I know,” Eris says as helps you into the awaiting canoe. He waits until you’re seated before taking the seat across from you. “I’m not done with it yet. I just finished the chapter where they spent the night at the inn... that just so happened to have only one bed and I–”

You cut him off abruptly, sending a splash of water his way. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes has your blush deepening. You know exactly what happens in that chapter. “I don’t want to know,” you reply quickly.

“You don’t want to hear my thoughts on the book?” Eris teases further, using his power to give the boat the push it needs. He picks up both oars, shaking his head at you when you offer to help row.

“Save it for when you’re finished.”

“Okay,” Eris chuckles and you’ve never been more grateful for the silence that follows.

With a small sigh of contentment, you brace yourself on your palms and tilt your head upwards. Your eyes flutter shut, finding comfort in the gentle rocking of the water as your blush begins to settle. Eris doesn’t mind, admiring the sight of you basking in the glow of the setting sun. The tension that often weighs on your shoulder is gone and so is the usual furrow of worry that marks your brow.

You’re free from the burden of the forest house. Free to speak your mind and you do so quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Eris.”

You don’t know what you do to me, Eris wants to respond, feeling his chest tighten at your words. Instead, he lets out a low hum in question, yearning to know more.

Your eyes flutter open, revealing the reflection of the setting sun within their depths. “You’re my golden hour,” you say and Eris feels a surge of warmth coursing through his veins. Different to the fire that usually lingers there. “I used to get sad and lonely when the sun went down but it’s different now. Sometimes, I–I wish it was you…”

You don’t finish your sentence but you don’t have to. Eris knows. You lower your head, a slight frown taking over your features and he longs to coax your gaze to his. To have a taste of your lips and kiss that frown away. To tug on the bond that tethers him to you until you feel it.

He doesn’t do any of those things. You’re marrying his brother soon. Something he has to remind himself constantly of. It doesn't matter if you're his mate. You're upcoming loveless marriage with his brother puts you at a place much safer than you would be with him.

Still, it doesn't stop him from murmuring a quiet, "me too."

You lift your head, allowing your gazes to meet again. Your mouth parts to speak but a gasp leaves your lips instead. Eris catches the slight widening of your eyes as your gaze fixates on something behind him. He follows your gaze, and together you're both captivated by the mesmerizing sight unfolding before you.

Lanterns ascend gracefully into the dusk sky, their gentle glow mirroring the ascent of the sun and bathing you in its ethereal light. The river below shimmers like a canvas of stars, the lanterns' reflections dancing upon its surface.

“I used to hear about this night all the time when traveling with my parents. My father didn’t care for it but my mother said she’d take me one year…,” your voice trails off. “I never thought I’d be able to see it in person.”

Eris quietly shifts in his seat, moving to sit beside you instead. He lifts his hand and his magic brings forth a lantern. You’re too lost in the moment to notice his proximity.

"The festival is a celebration of hope," Eris explains softly, his gaze alight. "Even in the darkest of nights, the smallest flicker of light–" Flames burst forth from his fingertips, illuminating the lantern. "–can bring forth a fiery hope that perseveres against all odds. Some believe that if you make a wish as you release your lantern, it’ll come true by the next festival.”

He holds the lantern to you, dimming the flames in his hand to not burn you as you take it.

“And do you believe?” You find yourself asking, tearing your gaze from the lantern to glance at him.

“I do,” he responds without hesitation.

"Then let's release it together," you propose, gesturing for him to grasp the other side. Eris complies, his fingers brushing against yours as you hold the lantern between you. "On three. One... two..."

"Three," you declare in unison, releasing the lantern into the night sky.

You tilt your head back, tracing the path of your lantern as it ascends, joining the myriad of twinkling lights above. As they disappear into the heavens, you're left mesmerized as you can no longer discern them from the stars shining above.

But for Eris, his gaze remains fixed on you, his heart swelling with adoration as he beholds the radiant smile that graces your face. A sight he cherishes as it’s one that illuminates his own darkened world.

When you finally turn to look back at him, you’re beaming. There’s a light in you, warm and real and bright, and all he wants to do is be kept in your glow. Leaning forward, you press a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," you whisper to him and as the sensation of your lips against his skin lingers, Eris finds himself overcome with a wave of emotion.

He should be the one thanking you. Despite catching him at a time when he least expected it, you've ignited a flame within him. A flame that burns with an intensity that terrifies him because he can no longer ignore it.

You're setting his world ablaze with a fire unlike he's ever known.

a/n: Sorry that this took so long to update. I actually ended up writing another part to this series that was supposed to come before this part but then, I decided to just keep my original order.

tagging: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria,

(idk why the tags didn't work for everyone :/ sorry if you asked to be added and I didn't. Please leave a heart emoji if you'd like to be tagged on the next part. I have like 4 more imagines planned.)

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris imagine #eris fanfiction #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar x you #eris angel au #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra fic

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 1 month

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Healing Bonds

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader(Past)

Summary: You find Yelena after Natasha, your ex-lover, has passed and you feel like it's your duty to keep Yelena close. What happens though when feelings rise up for the blonde Russian?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Lots of angst and hurt

A/N: So This idea had come to me after rewatching Endgame, Black Widow, and Hawkeye so here you go.

The first time you met Yelena Belova wasn't until after her sister and your ex-lover, Natasha Romanoff, died. Natasha had always talked about Yelena and how much she loved her. You cried when you first laid eyes on Yelena. The two looked nothing alike, and you were thankful for that because you don't think you could look at her if she did.

When you told Yelena who you were to Natasha, she cried, wishing for a million different scenarios in which her sister was still here with them, and all you could do was hug Yelena, which earned you a handful of punches. You learned quickly that Yelena could be a very violent person when dealing with certain emotions. The first time it happened, you let it. You let her get her aggression out.

"It's not fair! You had so much time with her! You got to be happy with her! Me? I got a mission that almost got us killed after 20 years of silence!" She yelled, and you just held her tighter. "I'm sorry, Yelena," You whispered over and over and over.

In those moments, as her fists collided with your body, you could feel the pain in her words. It wasn't just about Natasha's death; it was about the years lost, the missions that tore them apart, and the void left by the silence between them. You understood Yelena's anger, even if it was directed at you. It wasn’t as if she could direct it at the person she wanted to.

As the punches subsided, she finally collapsed into your arms, exhausted from the emotional storm that had consumed her. You sat there in silence for a while, the weight of Natasha's absence hanging heavily between the two of you. The room felt colder, emptier, and you couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at you.

"I wish she had more time with you too, Yelena," You said softly, your words barely audible. Yelena didn't respond, but her grip on you tightened, seeking solace in your shared grief.

In the aftermath of that turbulent encounter, the two of you began a journey of healing together. You were bound by the love you had both lost, and as the two of you navigated the tangled web of emotions, a new connection formed. A connection born out of pain, but one that held the promise of understanding and, perhaps, even redemption in the face of the losses you both endured in the wake of the Snap and beyond.

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You ended up taking Yelena home with you, offering her a permanent place by your side. She continued going on missions, which you had expected. The first time she left without telling you, and there was no note. You thought you'd lost her forever, sitting on the back porch in the summer evening air, your Y/H/C hair whipping around you as silent tears fell.

You didn't hear her come in, not until she was next to you did you notice her presence. "Why are you crying?" Her accent, thick and familiar, filled your ears as you grabbed her, pulling her in tightly, close, your heart hammering in your chest. "I thought I'd lost you too... don't... don't fucking do that again, Yelena!" You yelled at her, your voice trembling as tears flowed freely.

Yelena's expression softened as she held you, understanding the fear that gripped you during her absence. "I had to go. It was a last-minute mission, and I didn't want to wake you," she explained, her words a mix of apology and reassurance.

"It doesn't matter. Just... just tell me next time, please," You pleaded, your grip on her not loosening. The relief of having her back overwhelmed the anger that had fueled your outburst.

Yelena nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I promise. I'm sorry for making you worry," she said, her voice soothing. The two of you stayed there, entwined on the porch, the summer breeze carrying away the tension that had momentarily fractured your newfound connection.

From that day forward, Yelena kept her promise. She would leave for her missions, but not without a word or a note, ensuring that you wouldn't have to endure the heart-wrenching uncertainty of her absence again. In the quiet moments between her departures and returns, your bond deepened, and the scars of your shared losses began to heal, one mission at a time.

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You decided to form a company a little over a year after Natasha died, the weight of her absence still heavy in your heart. Standing at her grave, you whispered into the wind, "I'm going to start a company. I don't want to be an Avenger anymore. Not without you, but I can help others. I know I can." The breeze felt like Natasha's touch, a comforting caress that seemed to echo her approval.

"Yelena and I have been living together for six months now, Tasha. She's exactly as you described. A spitfire and a brat at times. I don't know if you can forgive me or not when I say this, but I could see myself with her. She's my type, a power bottom with a bratty side." You chuckled as the wind picked up. "Okay okay... I understand, only if she moves first," You whispered, as if seeking Natasha's consent in the elements around you.

Your company started up with few hiccups. You planned on making a business out of seeking out people with powers and talents that could be considered Avengers, teaming them up with a manager. Eventually, you aimed to expand to other countries, each with its own headquarters. The goal was to create a network of skilled individuals, ready to defend against threats on a global scale.

You envisioned a world where those of you left in America could stay here unless faced with a Thanos-level threat, something you fervently hoped would never happen again. The legacy of the Avengers would live on through this new venture, a tribute to Natasha and a commitment to protecting a world that had lost so much but still held the potential for hope and resilience.

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You come home to find Yelena sitting on the couch with a pot of mac & cheese covered in hot sauce, using a too-big spoon. "Y/N! I made mac & cheese! Would you like some?" she asks, and you’re too exhausted to yell at her. You sit next to her, taking the spoon and eating some. "How was your day?" she inquires.

"Stressful, Lena. More and more people are learning about my company, and we're getting more and more applications," You reply, leaning your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. You hear her set the pot down on the coffee table before she curls up against your side. "Anything I can do?" she asks.

You remind yourself of the promise you made to Natasha. "Whatever you think sounds good. You've known me for over a year now, Lena. What is it that you think I want? What will make me feel better?" You don't open your eyes or look at her. you’re testing her, and she knows it.

You feel her shift off the couch, and you clench your fists. She's never going to make the first move as you fiddle with the band on your ring finger—the one you haven't taken off since Natasha gave it to you.

Yelena returns with a blanket, draping it over both of you. "How about a movie night? We can just relax and take a break from all the chaos," she suggests, her voice soft. It's a simple gesture, but the warmth of her presence and the consideration behind her words start to ease the tension within you.

You nod, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, that sounds good, Lena," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. Maybe in that moment, amidst the mac & cheese, the too-big spoon, and the movie night proposal, you found a way to let go, even if just for a little while.

Yelena picks the movie while you change into pajamas, a tank top and shorts. You notice her eyes on your body, but choose to ignore it for the time being as you make popcorn and pour us some vodka sprites. Carrying the drinks and popcorn over, Yelena has picked out John Wick. You can’t help but chuckle at the choice as you settle back into the couch. Yelena moves closer, fitting into you like a puzzle piece as she takes your left arm and wrap it around her shoulders. You simply smile at the gesture, sipping on your drink and eating popcorn as the movie plays out.

About halfway through the movie, you feel Yelena absent-mindedly playing with the band Natasha had given you. She's engrossed in the movie, and you watch her, finding her reactions more enthralling than the movie at this point. It's a subtle touch, her fingers tracing the contours of the ring on your finger, and you can't help but be drawn to the way she navigates the emotions tied to Natasha's memory.

As the scenes of John Wick unfold on the screen, you lean your head against Yelena's, savoring the comfort of the moment. Her actions speak louder than any words, and in the quiet intimacy of that movie night, you start to understand that healing doesn't always come from grand gestures or elaborate plans. Sometimes, it's found in the simplicity of sharing a movie, a drink, and the touch of someone who cares. And in those stolen glances and unspoken connections, you find a new layer of solace, a fragile bridge between the past and the potential for a future where happiness is not just a memory but a living, breathing reality.

You whisper in Yelena's ear, "Tasha gave me the ring." Yelena is pulled from the movie, looking down at your hand that she's been playing with. "It was a promise ring. She got it for me in Budapest. Saying when things settled down, she'd do the whole down on one knee, and we'd have this beautiful wedding where she'd wear a black dress instead of a white one. Everyone would be there, and we'd go back to Budapest for our honeymoon. When we'd come back, we'd ask for a safe house where we could just live quietly between missions..."

You don't realize you’re crying until Yelena is wiping the tears from your face. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I'm ruining movie night, aren't I?" You choke on your own sobs, but Yelena just pulls you against her, hugging you tightly. "No, you haven't ruined anything, Y/N. It's okay."

You hold onto her, shifting slightly until she's in your lap, once again feeling like a puzzle piece as we bury our faces into each other's necks. "If you had gotten married, I hope she would have come found me to be her maid of honor... though I don't know how good I'd be at that," Yelena admits.

In that vulnerable moment, amidst the shared pain and unspoken understanding, Yelena's admission brings a bittersweet smile to your face. The weight of Natasha's absence still lingers, but in Yelena's presence, you find a different kind of strength—a strength born out of shared grief, compassion, and the subtle promise of moving forward, even if it's one tear-streaked movie night at a time.

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Yelena wakes you up, gently calling your name and crawling onto your bed. "Y/N... Y/N..." She speaks softly, shaking your arm lightly. In your half-awake form, you turn to face her, pulling her into a tight embrace, her face against your chest. You can smell her shampoo, pomegranates, and make a noise of content. "Y/N, I have to go," Yelena whispers.

"No," You refuse, not letting her go. In fact, you hold her a little tighter. "Yes, I must. The widows need me," she insists.

"I really don't want you to go... I worry so much every time you go out that door. I know you're the world's greatest assassin, but so was Natasha before you," You confess. Yelena cups your cheeks. "I'll come back. I promise."

Natasha said those exact words too. You feel the tears in your eyes, spilling over before I have a chance to stop them. They're down your cheeks and running over her fingers. "I know words mean very little. I know Nat said similar words. I'm not leaving, though. I'll come back. It's just freeing more widows that have been found. That's all. It's safe. I promise. None of them come close to my skills."

Yelena wipes your tears and assures you that she'll come back. You know you have to let her go. "Please just come back safe, Lena. Please," You lean your forehead against hers. "I can't do this without you," You finally confess.

"I'll come back. I'll always come back. You can't get rid of me, not anymore. You're too deep into this," Yelena tells you, and you look at her, searching her face. "Lena..." Gods, you want to kiss her so badly just to show her how much you need her, but you promised Tasha...

Yelena leans in, kissing your cheek, almost reaching your lips. It's the first time she's ever kissed you in any way. "I'll be back. A few days, that's all," she reassures, placing another kiss on your cheek before she leaves. She looks at you one last time with a smile before heading out, leaving you there, curled up into a ball and crying. Now, you definitely couldn’t lose her.

The weight of her absence already looms large, and the brief touch of her lips on your cheek lingers like a promise in the air. As you try to gather yourself, the echoes of Yelena's words and the warmth of her fleeting kiss become the anchor in the storm of your fears. You know you must trust her, just as Natasha had asked you to trust her own choices.

In the solitude of your room, you cling to the hope that Yelena will return, that the few days she's away won't stretch into an eternity. The scent of pomegranates still lingers in the air, a reminder of her presence, and you find solace in the belief that your connection, however fragile, will endure the challenges that lie ahead.

"Please tell me you'll count that as the first move, Tasha?" You ask, directing your words to the air as you look at the ring on your finger. There's a moment of silent contemplation, a silent conversation with a memory.

Then, you get up and get dressed, facing the day with a mix of vulnerability and determination. The echoes of Yelena's departure still resonate in your mind, but as you glance at the ring, you find a subtle strength. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but in that quiet acknowledgment, you feel the weight of a promise made, a connection forged, and a future that holds the potential for healing and new beginnings.

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"Yelena kissed my cheek; she almost kissed my lips, actually," You run your fingers across your cheek and the corner of your lip. "She had to go on a mission, and she told me the same words you did before you left me forever. I broke down. I seem to do that quite a bit with her now." You’re looking at Natasha's grave. It has been two years now since she left. "Tasha, I know we had our plans, and I will never forget them, but I want to move on... I need to, and in order to do that..." You pull the ring off your finger, twisting it between your fingers. "I need to give this back to you, darling." You’re trying not to choke on your tears as they flow freely down your face. You wrap it up in a little cloth, a red one, and bury it just a little ways down. "Please be happy for me, darling. You know she'll always treat me right." You are full-blown crying as you kiss her gravestone and head back home, hoping Yelena is finally home.

As you walk away, the weight of the past feels a bit lighter, as if the act of returning the ring is a step towards embracing the future. The pain is still there, the memories still vivid, but in the tears and the quiet goodbye, there's a sense of release and a tentative hope for what lies ahead. You head back home, your heart heavy but with a flicker of anticipation, hoping Yelena's absence will soon be replaced by her comforting presence.

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When Yelena comes back home, she finds you crying on the floor. She picks you up into her arms and holds you as you sob. When you finally come to from your crying session and register that she's back, you cup her cheeks and slam your lips against hers a little rougher than you intend. You soften up a bit when you realize how rough you truly were.

"You're back..." you whisper against her lips.

"I told you I'd be back," she whispers back, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you back in. The two of you kiss, hungry and passionate, as if she's been waiting all her life for this moment. In the embrace of her arms, the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future momentarily fade away. There's only the warmth of the present and the promise of a new chapter, where healing and love can coexist, a testament to the resilience of the heart after weathering the storms of loss.

"Yelena..." You pull back, leaning your forehead on hers.

"I've been waiting forever for that," Yelena admits.

"I know you were grieving, so I just wanted to be here for you, and I was never sure if I should act on my feelings," Yelena tells you, and you give her a soft, quick kiss this time.

"I talked with Tasha about it and promised I wouldn't make the first move," Yelena laughs. "When was this?" she questions.

"A year ago at her grave. You were on a mission, and I went to visit her just before starting up the Avengers company. I told her about how I was falling for you and to not hate me for it. The wind whipped around me, and so I promised I wouldn't make the first move. When you kissed my cheek before leaving, I took that as you making the first move. I visited Natasha yesterday and told her about it and gave back her ring. I left it with her so that I could move forward," You explain, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief.

Yelena brushes her thumbs against your tear-stained cheeks and listens to your words. "I promise I'll live up to your expectations. I'll do everything I can to do right by you, Y/F/N," she says, and you chuckle at the use of your full name.

"I know you will, and so does Natasha. I don't think I could be in better hands than yours, Lena," You say, feeling a sense of acceptance and hope for the future. The weight of grief begins to lift, replaced by the promise of a new chapter, and the knowledge that love, even after loss, has the power to mend and rebuild.

#ley writes #ley speaks #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova x you

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animatedglittergraphics-n-more · 4 months

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RIP, AIM: Remembering how we used to talk on the internet

A eulogy for AOL Instant Messenger, and how it changed the way we talk about games and everything else By Luke Winkie published December 15, 2017

Do you remember all the souls you've lost to the internet? Those incidental friendships, forged in IRC clients, Newgrounds forums, 40-man Ragnaros wipes, scattered across the globe when the web was young? They came into your life and played Fall Out Boy over Ventrilo. They came into your life and disappeared forever. Do you remember when snapping a selfie required a frustrating tangle of mechanical coercion, but it was worth it to show them your face? When real-life names were rarefied information shared exclusively through digital blood pacts? AIM shut down today, and the only thing I can think about is how all of those people still exist somewhere, perhaps exploring the same pit in their stomach that I am.

AIM belongs to all of us. As a pioneering force of internet communication, anyone born in the early '90s or late '80s has spent some time on the platform. As a 26-year old, I'm crucially aware that my appreciation for the prodigal instant messenger is colored by a nostalgia that has nothing to do with the service itself. It was simply the medium of choice to grouse about homework, The Decemberists, girls I liked, and the rest of my random bullshit.

But I do believe that there's a special union between AIM and people who grew up playing games, or at least came of age on the internet with people who played games. The early millennium revolutions in online multiplayer pitted us together and asked us to collaborate, so of course we carried those early internet accords to their logical extremes—talking all night in lonely chat boxes about what's cool, what sucks, and how easy it is to relate. In 2017, the web feels less like something I approach for those connections, and more like an overwhelming ennui that I'm constantly trying to outrun. Boston's Kyle Seeley nailed that feeling perfectly with 2015's Emily is Away, and this year's sequel Emily is Away Too—both of which transport you back to the spongy leather office chairs of your parents' computer room.

"AIM was primarily for one-on-one conversations between teenagers. That's how I used AIM, to have a very intimate conversation with another person. Now we have texting and Facebook messenger, but you can use those wherever you are," he says. "You can use those at a concert or while driving. But when you were using AIM, you were sitting down at a computer to talk to people. You had their undivided attention."

Emily is Away tributes AIM in the only way anyone can—spinning a yarn of disentranced high-school drama that eventually mounts into something deeply sad. The way Seeley presents an old Windows XP desktop, with the hilariously temperamental tastes of your idiot friends revealing themselves in their bios and away messages (until one day they stop logging on entirely) is immediately resonant. We've all had our Emilys. "When you have a conversation on the phone, you spend 10 minutes making small talk," says Seeley. "On AIM you talk to someone for hours. Like eight hours, 10 hours straight. You get all the small talk out of the way in the first hour, and then you're talking about these big teenager questions. Who am I? Who do I want to be? I think AIM was really good at that."

It was always difficult for me to articulate the intimacy I felt with my internet friends to my parents. There were the obvious, mechanical mistranslations; I begged my mother for early exits from countless family dinners that consistently managed to interfere with my guild's crucial Molten Core attempts. But beyond that, there was a certain shame in feeling loved and valued by people I only knew by username. A latent fear that those who did not understand might consider that affection to be false, or even sinister. That's different now, as social media has flattened out our offline/online dichotomy, but if you were on AIM, you probably remember how once upon a time those bonds felt illegal.

Years ago Nina Freeman, level designer at Fullbright and one of the foremost thinkers on love and technology, launched a flat-out covert campaign to get close with one of those friends. She spent months locked in the holy matrimony of Final Fantasy XI and nightly AIM treatises with a boy named Glenn from New York City. Eventually they met, but not before Freeman satisfied her aunt, (who she was staying with) with a fabricated narrative—Glenn was no longer a dude from the internet, now he was just an old family friend who happened to move east. "I was still in high school," says Freeman. "We made up that whole story."

That secrecy is immediately familiar to me. AIM was surreptitious, clandestine. A service that belonged to teenagers, sequestered from leering ears and concerned authority figures. As Freeman notes, a screen name was one of the few commodities a young person could fully own. A domain, an aesthetic, a communication channel you could control. It was rare to feel fully untethered from your parents, so you guarded that sliver of liberty with your life.

"I wouldn't hand out [my username] lightly," explains Freeman. "I'd only really do it with people I felt close enough with. It seems sort intimate. It was a 'thing' to add someone on AIM. The expectation would be that if we're adding each other, we're going to chat regularly.… It had a weight to it."

Cecilia D'Anastasio, senior reporter at Kotaku (and a friend of mine) went a step further. As an 11-year-old, she was already griefing in the multiplayer Flash games she shared with her friends over AIM. I don't think anything sums up the juvenile euphoria of instant messaging quite like using that power to cheat in stakes-free freeware.

"One of the Flash games I discovered was basically Pictionary, but online and with a chat room. One player would etch out an image in a Microsoft Paint-like interface while the chat would dutifully guess at what it could possibly be. It was very wholesome," says D'Anastasio. "That's why my friend June and I were passionate about cheating. We'd join a game on the same team. Over AIM, we'd tell each other what we were assigned to draw, instructing whoever was guessing to wait a solid ten seconds before revealing the answer. It was a riot. We always won."

Over the past decade or so AIM has slowly been replaced with services that de-emphasize traditional internet patois. Gchat and Twitter are all full of real names and faces instead of coded handles and custom-colored text, and logging in to most platforms scarcely takes more than a click on a Facebook icon. For the most part, this is a good thing. Anonymity is one of the scourges of online culture—a de facto institution that continues to cause a lot of people pain. Personally though, I can't help but feel like we've lost something along the way. There was a certain sublimity in typing from behind the guise of a username. It gave way to a feeling that your AIM conversations existed in some sort of permissive, alternative reality, the ideal spot to work up the nerve for swollen 3 am confessions. In 2017 there is no such thing as "IRL" anymore; your internet presence is permanently married to your day-to-day existence. Everyone on earth spends their waking hours waging wars and making peace with strangers they will never meet. It is overwhelming and insoluble, and there are moments where I wish I could get outside again.

I'm not the only person that feels this way, and there are some people working to restore the parts of the mid-aughts internet that worked. When I interviewed Jason Citron, CEO of Discord, earlier this year, he affirmed a deep appreciation for AIM, and believed that perhaps the online infrastructure might soon swing back in that direction. "When you zoom out and think about the internet and how communication is trending, there's definitely a trend to more live experiences," he said. "The internet has done so much to connect people asynchronously, so I think there's something more macro happening that Discord is taking part in. It's like we're bringing it back to how it used to be."

He's right. One of the things that's made Discord successful is how separated it feels from the rest of the internet. When you join an ultra-specific channel—for niche Hearthstone formats or fan-favorite Persona��characters—it's like you're uncovering a league of obsessives that are ready to welcome you with open arms. The true solidarity of dorkiness. It's funny, but by holding back on cosmopolitan design choices (like Facebook integration or a required photo-reel), Cintron stumbled into a scheme that evokes the furtive splendor that made AIM special. This is something Nina Freeman found when she started up a Discord channel to support her growing Twitch following. "It quickly became a community, and now I have a bunch of newer online friends. I'm already cracking up at myself as I'm wondering what they look like, or what they do in real life," says Freeman. "It definitely has a similar appeal."

If Discord doesn't quite meet your personal instant messaging standards, Citron tells me that, if enough people in the community request it, he'd consider implementing the low-res AIM chimes into the service. You know, door creak, door slam, those disruptive MIDI twinkles. "To this day, that sound still triggers my desire to hop online," he says.

Kyle Seeley is doing something similar. Yesterday he released a piece of DLC for Emily is Away Too that reskins Steam Chat to look exactly like AIM circa 2006. He spared no expense; you can change your text color, drop in vintage, blocky emoticons, and create your own custom profile so you can tell the world that Warped Tour will never die. "It's a farewell to AIM," he says. As one gaming's foremost nostalgia artists, it'd be wrong if he didn't say goodbye.

Now the AIM generation is old enough to both intellectualize their wistfulness, and use the lessons they learned from the service to create for the today's teenagers. To facilitate affection and respect on the internet, to show them what it looks like. We were the first to taste love on the web, at a time when those feelings had no context or guidance, and I hope that AIM helped create a baseline for young people and the midnight communion with those across the screen. The liberation that comes with knowing that the internet friendships you cherish are just as valid and wonderful as you think they are—these stories matter, because they help light that path. Lord knows I needed it, and I'm sure you did too.

Luke Winkie

Contributing Writer

Luke Winkie is a freelance journalist and contributor to many publications, including PC Gamer, The New York Times, Gawker, Slate, and Mel Magazine. In between bouts of writing about Hearthstone, World of Warcraft and Twitch culture here on PC Gamer, Luke also publishes the newsletter On Posting. As a self-described "chronic poster," Luke has "spent hours deep-scrolling through surreptitious Likes tabs to uncover the root of intra-publication beef and broken down quote-tweet animosity like it’s Super Bowl tape." When he graduated from journalism school, he had no idea how bad it was going to get.

#rip aim #aim #aol instant messeging #old web #techcore #aim eulogy #webcore

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verstappensrealwife · 2 months

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Beyond a Contract - Max Verstappen x Reader

fluff

approx. 1500 words

warnings: kissing

max verstappen masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

In the glittering world of Formula 1, where speed and glamour collide, a rumour swirls like exhaust fumes on the track: you, a rising star in journalism, are tasked with a mission unimaginable—fake dating one of the sport's most renowned drivers, Max Verstappen.

As the paddock buzzes with speculation and cameras flash with every calculated move, you find yourself thrust into a whirlwind of luxury suites and champagne-soaked celebrations, all while navigating the complexities of a relationship that exists only for the public eye.

But beneath the dazzling facade lies a tangled web of secrets and desires, as you and Max struggle to maintain the charade while grappling with the undeniable chemistry that sparks between you. With each staged photo-op and stolen moment, the lines between reality and fiction blur, leaving you wondering if there's more to this fake romance than meets the eye.

From the moment the charade began, you had no idea how intricate the performance would become. Every smile, every touch, meticulously orchestrated for the cameras, yet somehow, amidst the staged romance, genuine emotions began to bloom.

As you embarked on this journey of deception with him, the lines between fiction and reality blurred, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you never anticipated. His charm, his wit, his passion for the sport—all of it fueled the flames of desire within you, until it became impossible to deny the burgeoning feelings blossoming beneath the facade.

With each stolen glance and whispered conversation, the facade began to crumble, revealing the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Despite the world watching your every move, you couldn't ignore the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Max, igniting a love that transcended the boundaries of the charade.

In the midst of the staged romance, amidst the glare of the spotlight, you discovered the unexpected beauty of falling for someone in the most unlikely of circumstances. And as the facade fell away, leaving only the truth of your love behind, you realised that sometimes, the most genuine connections are forged in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

As the clock struck 8 pm, the stage was set for the first PR stunt—a seemingly intimate dinner with Max Verstappen. Through the large panes of glass at the front of the building, cameras captured the scene, casting a soft, romantic glow over the dimly lit restaurant.

In the flickering candlelight, you and Max were caught in a moment of laughter, the genuine joy evident in the curve of your smiles. Despite the orchestrated nature of the evening, there was an undeniable chemistry between you, an electricity that crackled in the air.

Max couldn't tear his gaze away from you, captivated by your every gesture and expression. From the sparkle in your eyes to the way your hair fell in soft waves around your face, he found himself drawn to every inch of you. It was as if time stood still as he savoured the sight of you, relishing in the fantasy of having you by his side, even if only for show.

As the evening unfolded, he found himself lost in the illusion of your fake romance, unable to resist the pull of his growing admiration for you. And though he knew it was all a charade, a part of him couldn't help but wish that, just maybe, there was a hint of truth hidden beneath the facade.

The air crackled with tension as Max's proposition of carrying on the date in his hotel hung between you, his gaze unwavering as he awaited your response. Despite the contractual nature of your arrangement, there was a palpable undercurrent of something more—an unspoken desire that simmered beneath the surface.

Your heart raced as you considered his offer, the allure of the unknown tempting you to abandon caution and dive headfirst into the depths of possibility. Yet, lingering doubts tugged at the edges of your mind, reminding you of the boundaries you had agreed upon.

"Our contract doesn't say that's necessary," you replied softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Max's shrug belied the intensity in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice low and husky. "I don't mind," he murmured, his words laced with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. "I think you can feel something more than this facade too..."

With his confession hanging in the air, the lines between reality and fiction blurred, leaving you to grapple with the weight of your mutual attraction. And as the tension between you reached a fever pitch, you realised that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to this fake romance than either of you had dared to imagine.

With a nervous nod, you made a split-second decision to seize the opportunity presented by Max's invitation. Hastily settling the bill, you dashed out of the establishment, your heart pounding in your chest as you embarked on this unexpected turn of events.

As you navigated the bustling streets, your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. What had started as a simple contractual agreement had now morphed into something entirely different—a real, genuine date with Max Verstappen, the famous Formula 1 driver who had captured your attention in more ways than one.

Despite the nerves that threatened to overwhelm you, there was a flicker of excitement coursing through your veins. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown, and yet, there was a sense of exhilaration in the air as you ventured into the next chapter of your evening with Max.

As you arrived at the hotel, a nervous energy crackled in the air between you and Max, the weight of the evening's events hanging heavy in the space between heartbeats. The grand facade of the building loomed before you, a silent witness to the unfolding drama of your unexpected rendezvous.

With each step toward the entrance, the anticipation built, a silent crescendo of anticipation and uncertainty. What lay beyond the threshold was a mystery—a realm where the confines of reality blurred, and the boundaries of your fabricated romance were tested.

As the automatic doors slid open, you stepped into the opulent lobby, the soft glow of chandeliers casting a warm, inviting light over the marble floors. Max's hand brushed against yours, a subtle gesture that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of anticipation in the depths of your soul.

As the elevator ascended, the tension between you and Max reached a fever pitch, the anticipation crackling in the air like electricity. With each passing floor, the space between you seemed to shrink, until you were practically pressed against each other, the heat of his body searing through the fabric of your clothes.

With a subtle nudge, Max drew impossibly closer, his presence overwhelming yet intoxicating. You found yourself lost in the depths of his gaze, your breath catching in your throat as his lips descended upon yours with a fervent urgency.

The kiss was electric, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second. Your heart raced, pounding against your chest as you melted into his embrace, losing yourself in the dizzying whirlwind of sensation.

But as quickly as it had begun, the moment was shattered by the ding of the elevator, signalling your arrival at Max's floor. With a sense of urgency, he dragged you out of the confines of the elevator, practically running to his room with a single-minded determination that left you breathless and exhilarated.

As you crossed the threshold into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of intimacy and desire. And in that fleeting moment, as you stood on the precipice of the unknown, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you were ready to dive headfirst into the depths of passion with Max by your side.

In the soft glow of the hotel room, surrounded by the hush of whispered confessions and the warmth of shared embraces, Max and you found yourselves teetering on the edge of something extraordinary. With each passing moment, the boundaries of your contractual agreement faded into insignificance, overshadowed by the blossoming love that bloomed between you.

As the night unfolded, you discovered that what had started as a mere PR stunt had evolved into something far more profound—a genuine connection that defied the constraints of your fabricated romance. And in the quiet intimacy of the moment, as you gazed into each other's eyes with unspoken longing, you knew that it was time to cast aside the pretense and embrace the truth of your feelings.

With trembling hands and hearts laid bare, you made a silent pact to abandon the confines of your contract and embark on a new journey together—a journey defined by love, authenticity, and the promise of a future filled with endless possibilities.

And as the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden light, you knew that this was only the beginning of your love story—a story that would unfold with each passing day, leading you both down a path of happiness and fulfillment, hand in hand, as an official couple in love.

el fin.

Kindahatethisbutohwell

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kyleoreillylover · 4 months

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Loyalty Masterlist

A multi-chapter series created by Kyleoreillylover. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, stolen or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit.

CHAPTER 1- THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER 2- THE TEST

CHAPTER 3- TIME

CHAPTER 4- JEALOUSY

CHAPTER 5- CRACKS

CHAPTER 6-LOYALTY

CHAPTER 7- PART 1- THE BATTLE BEFORE THE WAR

CHAPTER 7- PART 2- THE BATTLE BEFORE THE WAR

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius

Caught deep in the Tribal Chiefs' clutches for the past three years after acknowledging your long-time friend Roman Reigns, you finally feel on top of the world. You have a title, a family, Jey, people who actually care about you, can finally put your money where your mouth is and show everyone how ruthless, manipulative, and good you are, and have put your tumultuous and scarred past behind you - or so you thought.

Because the thorns in your side that you thought you'd rid yourself of will just never free you from their poisonous grips. And their names were Kevin Owens and Sam Zayn.

Your former best friends. The people you absolutely despised with everything in your heart. The people you vowed to distance yourself from and the history you chose to try to forget.

But love and hate are tangled webs, intricately laced together and impossible to unravel. And as much as you tried to bury the memories and feelings, they seemed to persistently claw their way back into your consciousness especially with Sami trying to claw his way into the Bloodline with you, and Kevin trying to get the both of you out.

You try to fight off their advances, and you're partially successful with Kevin, but Sami's kisses always weakened you, leaving you feeling conflicted and torn between the life you've built and the past you've tried to escape. But when Jey's fiery lips press against yours, grounding you in the present, he reminds you of your your loyalty and your commitment to the Bloodline, and keep you anchored from drifting too far into the turbulent waters of your past...

But how long will it be until the turbulent waves of your past fully consume you?

Until your taste for freedom outweighs your loyalty to the Bloodline? Until you find yourself torn between the love you feel for Jey and the unresolved emotions lingering for Kevin and Sami?

Until you finally realize that the lines between loyalty, love, and longing are blurred beyond recognition, leaving you in never-ending waves that crash upon the shores of your existence, threatening to erode the stability you've fought so hard to establish?

Not long, if Kevin has anything to say about it.

But you'll make sure he doesn't even have a chance to speak.

A/N: a bit of a multi-chapter series I am working on!! I love the bloodline and sami/Kevin story, so this is inspired by that. Stay tuned, hope you loved this summary!!

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

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Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: (transitional chapter) you are far too drunk to understand what just happened on the dance floor. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

TW: indications of sexual ab*se, coercion.

chap nine 1/2

You’ve made many interesting decisions in your life. Some of them causing you to lose the only all you’ve ever had. This, however. This is new. This is different for you. Dancing with a man who made you hyperventilate only a week prior. A man who you can’t be in a room with for more than five seconds before becoming infuriated.

God, your head is spinning.

Your heels feel too tight now, your dress too stuffy and scratchy. You need to change everything, including your rose print panties. You’re not thinking of anything else other than the doors as you push through the crowd.

Only this time? You actually make it out, away from him.

The December chill greets you viciously, like an old friend scorned. Oh, you forgot your sweater inside. It wasn’t on your mind. Your dress is not enough to keep you warm, so you create one with the hug of your arms against your ice bathed body.

The chill turns your nose pink, alongside the apples of your cheeks. Gusts of December’s breath are like harsh slashes against your supple skin.

It’s so terribly cold that you can see each and every exhale that leaves you, your breaths tangling in the air for your gaze to follow. The cold hurts your eyes, as do the faint streetlights that look like blurred watercolor from where you stand. You hide them.

It’s only until your eyes shift from being squeezed tightly shut to opening that you realize how truly drunk you are right now.

Oh…

You need to get home, the stars in the sky are spinning and your head is pounding. You’re so nauseous, so tired. Jagged rocks meet your palm as you steady yourself upon the wall. You can’t decipher where you are. The street signs seem so far away, but the stop sign is close and it’s doing pirouettes before your very eyes.

Did you take the wrong exit?

Oh you must have, no wonder there’s no crowd. Regardless, it doesn’t matter right now. A taxi will have to stop by eventually.

The chill makes you shiver, nails digging into your arms as your teeth chatter. You don’t think you can stay upright for much longer without emptying dry cereal and free alcohol onto the concrete. Your back falls against the jagged rocks.

You’re bound to be beyond hungover when sunrise greets you, you’ll dwell over what you ran from no doubt. The thought is already plaguing you. You tilt your head back, watching your breaths float all the way up to the sky.

You feel it far too much now. What you were chasing away with the dancing. God, why did you drink this much?

You attempt a weak whistle, hoping a taxi man will take the wrong exit too. None do. Cars pass you by, probably amused by how pathetic you must look trying to keep yourself upright against the rocky wall.

You need to sit down, you’re about to faint.

“Hey hey, you alright?”

Your eyes snap open, body doing its best to straighten up as a stranger with two heads and bodies comes to your sights. Sight.

You don’t know.

“Oh yeah yeah, m’ fine.. just waiting for a cab.”

The man smells of boxed beer, and he looks scruffy even in double vision. Both pairs of his eyes are glistening for a reason you’re unaware of, and his voice seems so far away. Even so, your body knows he’s close. His hands— donned in itchy gloves, they fall upon your elbows.

“Come on sweetie, I’ll take you back home.

Before you get the chance to inhale a breath so you may protest, the man slides an arm round your lower back, pulling you off the rocks. Oh, he really does smell like beer. Your eyes are glazed over with tequila’s hold on your stability, but they still wander upon his features to find that he’s missing a tooth.

The handsy one, from earlier. The one Cindy scared away.

“Wait I know— know you.” You attempt, a hiccup breaking apart your sentence into two. You find yourself stumbling as he tugs you a bit further now and with a bit more force. He’s quiet, focused. Rushing.

You don’t like this.

He’s so sweaty, so close. His skin upon your own, it’s nauseating. Perhaps he’s getting the wrong message. You’ll just be kind.

“Oh no no it’s okay mister— I have a cab it’s coming.”

He’s not listening.

Your breaths get a bit quicker now, more panicked as realization begins to settle in. He’s taking you. Even though you know this, you can’t find the energy to form more words. To tell him to stop— to do anything.

Your body stumbles alongside his and you try to plant your heels into the concrete divots but he’s far too quick and far too big.

He’s stronger than you.

His car is worn and adorned with tinted windows.

“What are you doi-” Your speech is slurred, he interrupts you.

“Shut up.” It’s all he says as he opens the paint-chipped door. Your heart is pounding fast, banging against its bone cages. If it could, it would leap right from your throat.

And god— you are so sleepy, but fear won’t let your eyes rest. It’s all so quick and sudden. You hear the same metal doors you escaped from close, you jump. He doesn’t spare them a glance; he’s trying to push you into the back seat with even more urgency now.

“Wait— n-no.” You whisper as your trembling, numb fingertips which must be frost bitten by now, shoot up to grasp the snow fallen metal; attempting to keep your body out from the car. Though he is relentless. He pushes harder, you fall in.

Your head presses against the cool leather, body laid out long ways in the back seat of his dirty vehicle. It smells even worse than him. There are cigarette buds on the carpet, and empty beer cans in the seat pockets. You’re so drained, you could just close your eyes right now. But you feel his own gaze, looking over you.

You can’t give into it, not right now. You won’t.

Your mind is on autopilot, dazed by the shots you downed. Your body? It’s trained. You try to sit up but he immediately pushes you back down with a calloused and rough palm. His gloves are off now.

“But my cab mister… I gotta leave n’ I gotta-”

You hear a grunt, and in one swift motion— toothless is snatched back from where he once stood over you. The car creaks and shifts with force as he’s slammed up against it and in a spout of adrenaline, you shoot up— body steadying itself by leaning against the door.

Oh, woah… what a nightmare. Two Miguel O’Haras— and both of them have picked this overweight man up off of his feet.

Wait—

You blink lazily, watching as Mr. O’Hara— er a guy who really looks like him, drags the one-gloved man to the same jagged wall you once leaned up against. Your eyes watch through the tinted window as he slams him against it, sharp teeth bared like an animal while his veins protrude.

Must suck to be that guy.

You know what it’s like to be cased up against a wall while he’s angry with you. While his jaw is tense and his eyes are wild and overflowing the brim with fury.

Why is he so angry?

You hear his voice, far far away.

“Te gusta aprovecharte de las chicas? Eh, cabrón? Tienes suerta de que no te arranque el resto de los dientes de la boca…”

Something about his mouth. Something about his nauseating ways. If it were any other girl, this would be chivalrous. Maybe he just feels pity for you. The thought makes you wince.

The toothless man, his eyes are wide as he shakes his head back and forth. Panicked, frightened and desperate.

“Come on man, I don’t know what you’re saying! I don’t understand!” He’s pleading with a madman.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but Miguel drags him even further up the wall with just the strength of his arms alone. He does have big arms…

The jagged rocks slide into his tan skin, slicing it open until crimson pours from the fresh wounds— making him cry out.

Mr. O’Hara’s voice is low now, scarier. He speaks through clenched teeth.

“Understand this. If I see your face here again, I’m gonna bludgeon it. Get out of my club.”

His club?

You can’t unpack the idea of it, the door suddenly isn’t enough to keep you upright. You huff as you fall back against the cold leather. It smells of cigarettes and sex in here. It’s nauseating.

You can’t feel your feet, the chill has eaten away at them too. Faint footsteps kiss the worn pavement— closer and closer but you’re too unavoidably tired now to move from them. You can hear your own heart pound, hear each breath muffled in your pink-kissed ears.

You hope the toothless man doesn’t come back. Maybe he already has… maybe you’ve already fallen asleep, maybe you’re just dreaming.

No. The scent of firewood and bourbon is an entirely new and undiscovered sensation to the rest of the world— singular to you, it has recently become. Far too vivid and warm to simply exist in a state of your slumber.

“Dios mío…” he whispers for only the night to hear, for the wind to take with it.

Warmth, familiar and baffling wraps around your ankle. He tugs your body to him with ease, but your dress lifts. You’re not wearing anything but your soft, rosy panties beneath it.

Your eyes fall shut, lashes fanning upon your skin— hearing an echoed noise from the back of his throat. He smells more of bourbon than firewood today. He’s been drinking too.

He doesn’t tug again.

“Vente, cariño.” His voice, it sends a shiver up the base of your spine. So filled with heat, honey and silk even in this horrid weather.

Maybe your mind wants to stay right where it is, not by choice but rather impairment. Yet one command from him and your body complies, unsteadily forcing you to sit upright. You practically slump right over when you do.

He robs his shoulders of his navy coat— but it’s not like he will suffer much without it. He must have an internal heater built within his chest. He wraps the soft material around you tight. It’s far too big, it engulfs you.

When you’re close enough to him, he reaches his arms around you. God— so warm. Mm, and he smells intoxicating. Intoxicating enough to forget the events of the week prior, and even the events of tonight. Yes, he’s a stranger. Kind and chivalrous. Sweeping you away to keep you warm.

Beyond the firewood and bourbon, he smells of spices. Strong and sultry in his hair. You’re up in his arms in a swift movement, so high up from the ground where he always towers over the rest of the world. You understand now why he feels so powerful all the time.

He holds you in a fireman’s cradle, your face buried in his neck. It’s heated there too, and you don’t have the strength or energy to part from it.

His leather shoe kicks the car door shut with force— annoyance. No— anger.

“Man I’m sorry again I-”

“Cállate.” He practically hisses. The stranger complies, quick footsteps hurrying off.

You’re so exhausted, and he’s so cozy. Just a quick nap, maybe. You’ll have plenty of time to feel embarrassment tomorrow. Not now. No— you’re just so drained right now. Not just from the shots, but the feelings. The dance, the gaze, the intensity. You’ve had enough for one night.

Your soft breaths kiss the place where his pulse rises and falls, body moving in a soft sway with each commanding step he takes. A singular metal door creaks open.

“Thank you, Cindy.”

“Yes sir, of course. Everything is in there— her keys, wallet, phone. She left her sweater too, but we can’t seem to find that…”

“She doesn’t need it, I’ll get her home.”

“Sir…”

The door slams shut— and no other words are spoken, you only feel movement. You only hear breaths. His… and maybe your own. Though they are softer now, your heart doesn’t pound as loudly. Your breathing is drastically different. His is laced with the remnants of his fury, and yours is only laced with your peace.

He must feel on top of the world, so high up like this. His feet pound against the pavement, it echoes in your ears. The soft hiss of tires rolling against pebble halts at the curb. Another different set of footsteps open the car door and scurry to open another. Mr. O’Hara approaches and you’re immediately placed inside. The seats are warm, heated you think— and the car smells of him. Far different from the one you were once inside of.

Your seatbelt is fastened, hair brushed away from where it tickles your face. The warmth, it’s as if you’re a child again— aching from the harshness of the icy world until steamed milk is offered to you. The feeling lulls you— and it isn’t long before your eyes fall shut.

Just for a little while, that’s all…

Then? You’re fast asleep…

🏷️’s @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @dprmoon @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 @amelialysm @justanothers-things

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rxgirlie · 2 months

Text

The Verdict- Chapter One

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: None (as of now)

A/N: I have eleven chapters of this written so far but a slew of changes to make and things to add. In order to not burn myself out, I won’t be posting this on any sort of schedule. None of this has been beta’d and I’m posting in the midst of a covid fever dream so if there’s any mistakes, simply ignore them.

The morning fog hung low over Paris, a delicate shroud that veiled the city in mystery and whispered of stories untold. Among the ancient streets and grand boulevards, a tale was about to unfold—one that would intertwine the lives of two distinctly different souls.

In the heart of the city, Vincent Renzi stood before the towering edifice of the Palais de Justice. His silhouette, a solitary figure against the sprawling architecture, was a testament to the weight he carried. At forty, Vincent had the kind of presence that commanded attention—not just for his refined appearance, but for the intensity that simmered beneath his calm exterior. Today, that intensity was sharper, fueled by the stakes of the case that awaited him inside.

Vincent was not merely a lawyer; he was a defender of justice, a role he embraced with unwavering dedication. The case he was about to undertake was personal, representing his friend Sandra, who had been caught in a nightmare she claimed was a fabrication. Accused of a crime as sensational as it was tragic—pushing her husband out of a window—Sandra's innocence was a truth Vincent held unshakeable.

As he made his way through the corridors of justice, Vincent's thoughts were on the battle ahead. The case was complex, tangled in a web of evidence and emotion, and it demanded not just legal expertise but a deep understanding of human nature. It was a challenge Vincent was ready to face, driven by a conviction that the law, in its purest form, was about protecting the innocent and uncovering the truth.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, an ambitious American lawyer was preparing for a journey that would change the course of her career. With a keen interest in international law and a hunger for experience beyond the confines of American courtrooms, she viewed the opportunity to shadow a French lawyer as a doorway to a new world. Little did she know, her path would lead her to Vincent Renzi, and together, they would embark on a journey that would blur the lines between professional collaboration and personal connection.

Paris awaited her with its charm and challenges, a city ripe with history and alive with the promise of adventure. As she packed her bags, she imagined the streets she would walk, the cases she would explore, and the people she would meet. Among those imagined faces was Vincent's, a partner in law she had yet to meet but whose reputation had preceded him.

The stage was set, the players drawn to their marks by fate and ambition. As the American lawyer's plane touched down on French soil, the first chapter of their story began to write itself, against the backdrop of Paris and the looming majesty of the French Alps. Little did they know, their encounter would be a confluence of minds and hearts, a trial of their beliefs and convictions, and a testament to the unexpected paths life can take.

____________________________________________

The chambers of Vincent Renzi were a world apart from the skyscrapers and modern glass facades that the American lawyer, Leah Bardin, was accustomed to. Nestled in a historic building whose stones whispered tales of centuries past, the office was a reflection of Paris itself—timeless, elegant, and steeped in stories waiting to be told.

Leah stepped inside, her senses immediately enveloped by the rich aroma of aged books and the subtle hint of espresso—a stark contrast to the sterile bustle of her New York firm. She was greeted by walls lined with volumes of legal tomes, certificates of commendation, and an array of photographs capturing moments of triumph and camaraderie.

At the heart of this sanctuary stood Vincent, his back to the door, engrossed in a mountain of case files that sprawled across his desk. The morning light streamed through the window, casting him in a silhouette that accentuated the deliberation in his posture.

Hearing the soft click of the door, Vincent turned, his gaze meeting Leah’s for the first time. In that moment, an unspoken assessment passed between them—a lawyer's instinctive evaluation of an opponent, colleague, and unknown entity all at once.

"Mademoiselle Bardin, I presume?" Vincent's voice broke the silence, his English tinged with the melodious accent of his homeland.

Leah extended her hand, the firmness of her grip belying the flutter of anticipation she felt. "Leah Bardin. It's an honor to meet you, Monsieur Renzi."

Vincent's study of Leah was brief but thorough. Despite his initial reservations about allowing an American lawyer to shadow him, he couldn't deny the determination that shone in her eyes. It was a look he recognized—a reflection of his own passion for the law.

"Please, call me Vincent. 'Monsieur Renzi' makes me feel like one of those ancient tomes on the shelf," he said, a hint of humor softening his features. "I understand you're here to learn about international law, but I must warn you, the case we're embarking on is not for the faint of heart."

Leah’s response was immediate, her resolve clear. "I didn't come all this way for an easy lesson. I'm here to learn, to contribute in any way I can."

Vincent regarded her for a moment longer, then nodded, the initial barrier of formality giving way to a burgeoning respect. "Very well. Let's get to work."

As they delved into the details of Sandra's case, Vincent was surprised by Leah’s insightful questions and her quick grasp of the complexities involved. Leah, in turn, was captivated by Vincent's depth of knowledge and his passionate advocacy for his friend.

Their first meeting, initially marked by caution, evolved into a dynamic exchange of ideas and theories. It was clear that despite their different backgrounds, they shared a common dedication to justice. As the day wore on, the foundation of an unexpected alliance was laid, their mutual respect a testament to the potential of their collaboration.

As Leah left Vincent's office that evening, the streets of Paris bathed in the golden hue of sunset, she felt an exhilarating sense of purpose. And for Vincent, watching her silhouette disappear into the maze of the city, there was an acknowledgment, however grudging, that Leah Bardin might just be the ally he needed in the battle ahead.

#vincent renzi fanfiction #vincent renzi x original female character #vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi fic #the verdict #hot lawyer save me

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lila-lou · 1 day

Text

✨ His only exception - Pt. 22/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 6428

A/N: This is part 22 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Two weeks later, you walked towards Annie’s office, to hand her some reports, but as you were about to knock at her door, you overheard her talking.

Annie’s voice rang out, laced with frustration and urgency, as she bellowed into the phone to Butcher. "Why the hell is Soldier Boy still in America?", she demanded, her tone tinged with incredulity. "He should have been transported to Russia by now. What’s the holdup?".

Your breath caught in your throat as her words echoed in your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

With bated breath, you pressed your ear to the door, straining to catch every word of the conversation unfolding within.

Inside the office, Butcher’s voice came through the phone, gruff and strained. "The Russians are afraid to take him back", he explained, his words heavy with frustration. "They don’t want to deal with the fallout if he escapes again. They want assurances, guarantees".

Annie let out a frustrated sigh, her voice tinged with exasperation. "Well, we can’t keep him here forever", she snapped, her irritation palpable. "We need to figure this out, and fast".

Your heart raced as you listened in, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together in your mind.

As you stumbled back from the door, clutching the reports tightly in your hands, a whirlwind of emotions churned within you.

With each step back to your office, your thoughts raced, grappling with the implications of what you had overheard. The tension in the air seemed to thicken around you, suffocating you with the weight of the secrets and lies that permeated Vought.

Once safely back in your office, you sank into your chair, your mind reeling as you tried to process everything you had just heard.

As you sank into your chair, the weight of the revelations pressing down on you, you couldn't shake the nagging questions swirling in your mind. Why would your friends hold Ben captive? There´s no way you misunderstood the hole situation.

The thought of Ben being returned to the Russians, to face the horrors of his past once more, sent a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced like crazy. You knew the extent of the torture he endured during his time in their captivity, and the idea of him being subjected to it again was unbearable.

No matter what he had done, to you or anyone else, this was just cruel.

With a heavy heart, you began to piece together the fragments of information, trying to make sense of the tangled web of secrets and lies that surrounded Ben's disappearance. But the more you delved into it, the more questions arose, leaving you feeling more lost and confused than ever before.

As someone who had spent countless hours tracking down supes in your previous job at Supe Affairs, you knew the ins and outs of investigative work like the back of your hand. If anyone could uncover Ben's whereabouts, it was you.

You should have done something sooner. Damn it, you hated yourself right now. Why did you trusted your team so easily? But… they were your friends, so you never thought about them lying to you.

For eight grueling hours, you poured over every piece of data on your laptop, leaving no stone unturned in your quest for answers. It was a tedious process, but your determination never wavered, fueled by the hope of finally finding a lead.

And then, just when you were beginning to lose hope, you stumbled upon a promising clue—an upcoming shipment from Nevada to Russia. Then it hit you. Your heart raced. A shipment from supe affairs. Fuck.

This could be it, you thought to yourself, the breakthrough you had been searching for. This had to be it. This had to be Ben.

Thats when Annie and Hughie knocked on your door. You were jolted out of your intense focus, the sound pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking away the remnants of your concentration, you forced a smile as you greeted them.

"Hey, come on in", you said, trying to sound cheerful despite the turmoil raging inside you. "Sorry, I lost track of time. I'll be ready in just a minute".

Annie raised an eyebrow at your distracted and stressed demeanor, her expression tinged with concern. "Everything okay?", she asked, her voice gentle.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. Finally, you shook your head, plastering on a false smile. "Yeah, just got caught up in some work stuff", you replied, hoping they wouldn't press for more details.

You joined Annie and Hughie for dinner, you did your best to push aside the rage and confusion swirling within you. The possibility that your friends had captured Ben and kept it from you gnawed at your conscience, but for now, you chose to keep silent about what you had overheard. If that shipment was really connected to Ben, or worse, was Ben, the last thing you needed was them, to react in a hurry.

Throughout the meal, you engaged in polite conversation, masking your inner turmoil behind a façade of normalcy. Despite your efforts, however, a part of you remained preoccupied with thoughts of Ben and the unsettling revelations you had stumbled upon.

As the dessert arrived, Annie and Hughie engaged in light banter, discussing their latest mission at Vought. You joined in sporadically, offering a smile or a nod while your mind wandered to darker thoughts.

Annie noticed your distraction and placed a hand on your arm, concern etched in her features. "Is really everything alright?", she asked, her voice gentle.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just a bit tired from work and stuff", you replied, your tone carefully neutral.

Hughie glanced between you and Annie, sensing the tension in the air. "If there's anything on your mind, you can always talk to us", he offered, his expression earnest.

You nodded, before you asked cautiously, "Did either of you happen to see anything about Ben lately?", trying to sound casual.

Annie and Hughie exchanged a glance, their expressions guarded.

Annie sighed softly before responding, "No, we haven't heard anything about him. But it's not uncommon for supes to keep a low profile".

You nodded again, but the unease in your stomach only grew. "It just seems crazy", you continued, "that someone as powerful as Ben hasn't been seen by a fan or caught on camera or anything. Especially now that Homelander is no longer a supe, Ben is essentially the most powerful being on the planet. The media should be going crazy about him".

Annie's brow furrowed in thought, but she didn't offer any further insight. "Maybe he just want to have some private time for now", she suggested vaguely.

You knew pressing further would only raise suspicion.

Annie let out a heavy sigh, her gaze distant as she mumbled, "You still miss him, don’t you?".

You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Yeah", you admitted softly, unable to hide the ache in your voice.

Her next question caught you off guard. "So… there wasn´t just friendship between you two, right?", she asked.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "At first, maybe", you replied carefully. "But… it got complicated. I don't know".

Annie nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "Well, if you ever need to talk about it, about your feelings, I'm here", she offered sincerely.

You offered her another fake smile.

How could she sit there and lie so badly to your face? How could the whole team, your friends, lie to you like that and keep you in the dark? And how could you have been so stupid and naïve as not to question Ben's disappearance?

With determined resolve, you booked a flight to Nevada as soon as you arrived home that evening. As you started packing a small bag, you continued your research, driven by the need to uncover the truth. There was no way you could ignore the possibility that Ben might be in danger once again.

If there was even the slightest chance that he was enduring another hellish ordeal, you had to do everything in your power to prevent it. You owed him that much, after everything you had been through together.

With each item you packed, you felt a sense of urgency coursing through your veins. Time was of the essence, and you couldn't afford to waste a single moment.

As your flight took off in the middle of the night, you felt a sense of urgency propelling you forward. You had booked the soonest flight available, unwilling to waste another precious minute while Ben's fate hung in the balance.

Touching down in Nevada in the early hours of the morning, you wasted no time. Calling in sick to work, you made your way to the nearest taxi stand, determined to reach the small airport where the mysterious shipment to Russia was set to depart. With each passing moment, your heart raced with anticipation, fueled by the hope that you might find some answers about Ben's whereabouts.

As the taxi pulled up to the airport, you stepped out, your pulse quickening with each step you took. With every passing second, the weight of the unknown pressed down upon you, but you refused to let fear hold you back. Steeling yourself for whatever lay ahead, you marched forward, ready to uncover the truth no matter the cost.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the guards stationed at the entrance to the airport. "Starlight sent me to make sure everything is ready for the shipment", you explained confidently, hoping to gain their trust. Well, you had a few hours to prepare yourself for every possible argument.

The guards exchanged suspicious glances, their eyes narrowing as they scrutinized you. "We weren't informed of any additional personnel", one of them remarked, his tone skeptical. But they knew your face. Your new position at vought was pretty much being Annie´s PA.

Undeterred, you maintained your composure, offering plausible explanations for your presence. With each carefully chosen word, you worked to assuage their doubts and convince them of your legitimacy.

After a tense exchange, the guards finally relented, allowing you to pass through the security checkpoint. As you stepped inside the airport, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you had cleared the first hurdle.

You walked through the airport. For a while.

As you finally entered the security room, you were met with the scrutinizing gazes of another two guards. Keeping your composure, you approached them with even more confidence.

"Starlight is waiting at the entrance", you lied smoothly, your tone authoritative. "She needs to discuss some urgent matters with you both".

The guards exchanged hesitant glances, clearly uncertain about the unexpected interruption. However, they seemed hesitant to defy the authority of someone claiming to be sent by Starlight.

Nodding in acknowledgment, they quickly vacated their posts, eager to address the purported issue at the entrance. As they hurried off, you took advantage of the opportunity to slip further into the security room.

"Idiots. This was way too easy", you rolled your eyes.

As you monitored the security cameras and navigated through the building's system, a mix of disbelief and amusement washed over you. The familiarity of the security system, reminiscent of Vought's own setup, struck you as both ironic and unsettling.

With each click and keystroke, you delved deeper into the labyrinthine network of corridors and chambers. It wasn't long before your keen eye caught sight of a series of heavily guarded rooms nestled within the bowels of the basement.

The sight sent a shiver down your spine, the gravity of the situation sinking in. These rooms held the answers you sought.

As you pocketed one of the access cards from the guards, a surge of adrenaline fueled your resolve. With each step towards the elevators, your heart pounded in anticipation and sure some fear.

With a steady hand, you inserted the card into the elevator panel, the soft beep signaling acceptance as the doors slid open before you. Stepping inside, you selected the basement level, your breath catching in your throat as the elevator descended into the depths of the building.

As the doors opened to reveal the dimly lit corridors of the basement, you steeled yourself for what lay ahead. With each step forward, you drew closer to the truth. Hopefully to Ben.

With each door you passed through, the tension in the air grew thicker, your nerves coiling tightly with each step. Using the access card, you navigated through the labyrinthine corridors of the basement, encountering occasional guards whom you managed to deceive with well-rehearsed lies and a calm demeanor.

As you ventured deeper into the bowels of the facility, you couldn't shake the sense of urgency that gnawed at your insides.

With each encounter with a guard, you maintained a facade of confidence, engaging in casual conversation and deflecting any suspicion with practiced ease. The guards, unaware of your true intentions, offered little resistance. Again, fucking idiots.

Finally, after navigating through a series of winding corridors and heavily guarded checkpoints, you stood before the imposing bulk of the last big steel door. Your heart raced as you reached for the access card once more, steeling yourself for whatever lay beyond.

A wave of shock and horror washed over you as the door swung open, revealing the grim scene before you. There, chained up on an examination table, lay Ben, his once-powerful form now reduced to a pitiful sight. Tubes snaked from his body, connected to machines that hummed softly in the dimly lit room.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him, his face obscured by a large mask, his body restrained by heavy chains. He lay still and silent, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of his captors.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the sight before you. The reality of the situation crashed down upon you with force, filling you with a mix of anguish, anger, and despair.

But amidst the chaos of your emotions, one thing remained clear: you had found Ben, and now it was up to you to free him from this nightmare.

As you approached Ben, your heart pounding in your chest, you cast a wary glance around the room, ensuring that you were alone and undetected.

Reaching out with trembling fingers, you gently lifted the mask from Ben's face, revealing his features beneath. His expression was serene, his features softened in sleep.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face as if to reassure yourself that he was real, that he was still here with you.

As Ben's eyes snapped open, a primal fury ignited within him, driving him to break free from his restraints with a fierce determination. With a low growl emanating from deep within his chest, he lunged towards you, his movements swift and predatory.

In an instant, his hands closed around your throat, crushing the air from your lungs as he pinned you against the wall with a vice-like grip. Your vision blurred instantly, the world fading around you as you struggled to draw breath.

"Mm…Ben", you managed to gasp, your voice barely a whisper as you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, hoping to reach the man buried beneath the rage.

In the final moment before his grip tightened, Ben's gaze locked onto yours, recognition flickering in his eyes as he registered your presence. With a sharp intake of breath, he released his hold, allowing you to crumple to the ground beneath him.

His voice trembled with a mixture of anger and disbelief as he demanded, "Did you fucking know about this?".

You choked back a sob, tears welling in your eyes as you shook your head frantically. "No, no, no", you gasped, your voice barely audible as you struggled to find your breath. He believed you, at least for the moment.

But Ben's rage erupted quickly, his voice reverberated through the room, filled with fury and betrayal. "Those fucking bastards tricked me!", he roared, his chest beginning to glow with a dangerous intensity.

You couldn't blame him for his anger, quite the opposite. You were at least as angry. But when you saw his chest begin to glow, you knew it wouldn't end well if he didn't calm down.

Fear gripped your heart as you pleaded with him, your voice trembling with desperation. "Ben, please, calm down", you begged. "You'll kill me if you explode".

Despite Ben's seething anger, your trembling hand reaching out to touch his. "Ben, please", you pleaded, your voice cracking with fear and urgency. "I know you're angry, I know it´s a lot, but… but we need to find a way out of here… now".

His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with the intensity of his emotions. For a moment, his gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, but the fire of his rage still burned bright within him.

He knew you were right.

With a wild intensity in his eyes, Ben growled at you to stay behind him. Without hesitation, he strode through the door, his movements filled with purpose and determination. As you followed closely behind, your heart raced with adrenaline.

Just beyond the threshold, a horde of guards awaited, their weapons at the ready. But Ben's grin widened, a fierce gleam in his eyes as he cracked his neck with a primal snarl. With a swift, savage motion, he launched into action, tearing through the guards with unmatched ferocity.

The air was filled with the sickening sound of flesh being rent apart and the metallic tang of blood. Ben moved with lethal precision, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as he fought his way through the opposition, his fury unchecked and unstoppable.

As Ben tore through the guards with unparalleled brutality, you followed closely behind, your stomach churning with each gruesome scene unfolding before you. The once pristine corridors of the facility were now painted in shades of crimson, the air thick with the stench of blood and death.

With each strike, Ben's movements were fluid and precise, his strength and speed unmatched as he dispatched his enemies with ruthless efficiency. You did your best to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest.

Despite the horror of the situation, you forced yourself to steel your nerves, pushing aside the overwhelming urge to vomit as you focused on staying close to Ben's side. With each step, you prayed for the nightmare to end, yearning for the safety and solace of escape.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the building.

As the chaos subsided and you both emerged from the building, the weight of the ordeal hung heavy in the air. Ben's gaze swept over the scene, his expression unreadable as he took in the aftermath of the carnage.

Without a word, he made his way to the nearest car, dispatching the last few guards with a swift efficiency that bordered on mechanical. You followed closely behind, your mind still reeling from the violence you had just witnessed.

When you reached a car, Ben paused, opening the passenger door casual. Despite the grim circumstances, there was a sense of familiarity in his actions.

You climbed into the car, the leather seats cool against your skin as you settled in. Ben joined you moments later, sliding behind the wheel with a sense of purpose.

The engine roared to life and Ben quickly navigated the vehicle away from the scene of destruction. As you drove off, the weight of what had just transpired hung heavy in the air, the silence between you filled with unspoken questions and lingering tension.

You couldn't help but stare at him, your mind still reeling from the violent ordeal you had just witnessed. With a mix of disbelief and exhaustion, you blurted out. "Even in this situation, you open me the damn car door?", you asked incredulously, your tone a mix of bewilderment and irritation.

Ben glanced at you, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Hey, just because we're fucking knee-deep in chaos doesn't mean I have to abandon my fucking manners", he replied with a hint of amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a small chuckle despite the gravity of the situation. Despite everything.

But his mood changed within seconds.

He turned to you, his chest beginning to glow once more. "Why the fucking hell did your fucking friends capture me?", he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and anger.

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm as you tried to steady his rising temper. "I don't know, Ben", you replied calmly, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "I overheard Annie talking to Butcher about it, but I don't have all the details. They never told me anything".

Ben's expression softened slightly, his features contorting with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "They never fucking told you?", he echoed, his voice tinged with incredulity. "After everything?".

You shook your head, a heavy weight settling in your chest as you confronted the painful reality of the situation. "No, they didn't", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Ben. I wish I had done something sooner".

For a moment, silence hung in the air between you, the weight of unspoken words echoing in the car's confined space.

As Ben's chest gradually ceased its ominous glow, a sense of relief washed over you both, the tension in the air dissipating slightly.

"I can't fucking believe this shit", Ben muttered, his voice heavy with disbelief as he processed the revelations. "Four months… I've been gone for four fucking months?".

You nodded solemnly, the weight of the truth hanging heavily in the air. "Yeah", you confirmed softly, meeting his gaze with empathy. "It's been over four months since… since everything happened".

Ben fell silent, his expression a mixture of shock and resignation as he grappled with the reality of the situation. The passage of time seemed to stretch before him, a testament to the countless moments lost in the void of captivity.

"How did you find me?", Ben's voice cut through the silence, his eyes narrowing as he studied you intently.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. "I… I overheard Annie talking", you repeated yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. "She mentioned something about a shipment from Nevada to Russia, and I knew… I just knew it had to be you and I had to find you".

Ben's expression softened slightly, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "You risked everything to come after me", he murmured. "Why?".

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. "Because you're not just 'anyone' to me, Ben", you replied, your voice tinged with emotion. "You're…damn it, even after what happened… you´re… you're everything".

As Ben's hand found its way to your thigh, a surge of electricity coursed through your body, igniting a fire within you. Despite the turmoil in his mind, his touch spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could never fully express.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the intensity of the moment enveloping you. In that fleeting instant, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

With a silent understanding passing between you, you leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand against your skin. In that simple gesture, you found a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the chaos and uncertainty of the world around you.

You missed him.

More than anything.

The landscape blurred past as Ben continued to drive, the silence between you stretching on. Unable to bear the weight of the quiet any longer, you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper as you confessed, "I missed you".

Ben's grip on your thigh tightened slightly in response. Despite the absence of words, his touch conveyed a depth of emotion that resonated deeply within you, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty of your reunion.

After driving for what felt like an eternity, Ben finally pulled the car to a stop in front of a nondescript motel. The neon sign flickered weakly overhead, casting a dim glow over the deserted parking lot.

About 15 minutes later, Ben settled onto the bed with a heavy sigh, you moved to sit beside him, the weight of the recent events hanging heavily in the air between you. His gaze was distant, his expression inscrutable as he stared off into the distance.

You carefully asked, "Do you want to take a shower? I can find something for you to wear that doesn’t scream 'soldier boy went crazy'".

Ben grunted in response, his gaze still distant as he nodded slightly.

With Ben in the shower, you seized the opportunity to dash to the nearest mall. Racing through the aisles, you grabbed a small selection of clothes that you hoped would suit him. After paying in a hurry, you grabbed some food and rushed back to the motel. You didn't really want to leave ben alone, not in his state of mind.

As you arrived, you noticed your phone buzzing incessantly with missed calls and messages from Butcher and the rest of the team. Ignoring them, you powered off your phone, determined to focus solely on Ben's well-being for the time being.

You froze in the doorway, catching sight of Ben lounging on the bed naked, flipping through channels on the small TV. Your cheeks flushed crimson as embarrassment flooded through you, and your hand instinctively flew to cover your eyes.

"Uh, sorry", you stammered, averting your gaze. "I, uh, brought you some clothes and food",

Ben glanced over at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "About time", he remarked dryly, reaching for the clothes in your hand.

He watched you how you covered your eyes, a bemused expression crossing his features. With a raised eyebrow, he reached out and gently pulled your hand away from your face.

"You've seen it all before, haven't you?", he remarked. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?".

Your heart raced at his touch, a shiver running down your spine as his deep, husky voice washed over you. Instantly, you felt a familiar warmth spreading through your body, your arousal igniting at the mere sound of him.

Ben's smirk deepened as he sensed your reaction to his touch and words. "Guess the worst part of me getting captured was that I couldn't take care of you properly". He emphasized the word ´properly´ his gaze smoldering with desire.

As you looked up at him, your heart pounding with desire, you felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between you. With a boldness born of longing and pent-up passion, you reached up to cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to you with a sense of urgency. It was too long. You missed Ben more than words could ever express. You loved him. Him. Ben.

Your lips met his in a fiery kiss, hungry and desperate, as if trying to convey all the emotions and desires that had built up during your time apart. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the electrifying connection between you and Ben, the raw intensity of your mutual longing washing over you both.

As Ben pulled you up onto his hips, the world seemed to spin around you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his body pressed against yours. Pressed against the wall next to the door, you yielded to the passionate onslaught of his kiss, feeling a rush of heat coursing through your veins.

With one hand beneath your ass, supporting your weight effortlessly, and the other cupping your face, Ben deepened the kiss with a fervor that left you breathless. Your fingers dug into his biceps, seeking purchase as you surrendered to the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

A deep, primal moan escaped your lips, reverberating in the small space between you, as the world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the fiery passion that ignited between you and Ben.

Amidst the fervor of your embrace, Ben's lips danced along your collarbone, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. As his touch ignited a wildfire of desire within you, you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper of pleasure. You were his own personal drug.

Ben's deep voice rumbled against your skin, a hint of amusement laced with desire. "Told you to be fucking careful with those noises", he murmured, his lips trailing a path of heat down your neck.

With a shuddering breath, you tightened your grip on his shoulders, your nails grazing his skin as you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch. Every sensation, every caress, sent waves of pleasure crashing over you.

With a swift motion, Ben tore away your shorts and panties in one fluid movement, leaving red lines marking where the fabric had been. You inhaled sharply at the suddenness of his action, but the surge of desire coursing through you overwhelmed any pain as you pressed your lips harder against his.

Driven by an insatiable need to feel him, to taste him, you deepened the kiss, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. The raw intensity of the moment consumed you both.

Lost in the whirlwind of desire, all you could think about was him—the weeks of longing, the ache of his absence—all of it culminating in this moment. His presence enveloped you, his scent, his warmth, his touch.

Desperation laced your voice as you begged for more, your words a fervent plea for the release of pent-up desire. "Please", you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "I need you".

Ben's amused grin widened as he teased. "Maybe I should disappear more often if this is the kind of welcome I get", he chuckled, his hand trailing down to his throbbing length.

At this point it became damn clear to you, that this was Ben´s way of handling his swirling emotions of what the team had done to him. Or wanted to do to him.

With a confident grip, he positioned himself at your entrance. As his tip brushed against your slick folds, you gasped.

With bated breath, you braced yourself against the wall, your muscles tensing in anticipation of his next move.

Slowly, tantalizingly, Ben began to push forward, his thick length inching its way into your welcoming warmth.

With one measured thrust, you felt yourself stretching to accommodate him, the delicious ache mingling with the throbbing heat pooling between your legs.

As he sank deeper, your senses were consumed by the heady sensation of him filling you completely. The friction between you driving you to grind against him in search of greater pleasure.

As Ben's hips pressed flush against yours, his breath hot against your skin, he peppered kisses along your neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your sensitive flesh. Each brush of his lips sent shivers of pleasure racing through your body, intensifying the already overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

With a husky voice, thick with desire, Ben whispered against your ear. "You feel so fucking good", he murmured, his breath hitching as he fought to control his own rising arousal.

With that, he started to move, slowly at first. He would never admit it, but he missed you just as much, even though he wasn´t really awake for the last few months.

As Ben's thrusts grew more forceful, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you, he struggled to stifle his own moans of pleasure. With each breathless gasp, he fought to maintain control, his lips seeking yours in a desperate attempt to silence his own cries of ecstasy.

Lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure, you clung to each other, consumed by the raw, primal desire that bound you together. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the searing heat of your passion.

"Fuck, I missed you so much", you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Ben's movements became more urgent, driving you against the wall with force. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in the small motel room, a symphony of desire and longing that reverberated through the air.

With a firm grip on your ass, Ben lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed where he hovered above you, his gaze dark with desire. His cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you with its hardness as he groaned at the sight of your swollen, eager pussy.

“Fuck, Sweetheart. I nearly forgot how fucking beautiful you are", he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he continued to tease you with his throbbing length.

As you shuddered beneath him, your desire reaching a fever pitch, you pressed your hips against his throbbing length, craving the feeling of him deep inside you.

With a low, guttural groan, Ben captured your lips in a searing kiss.

As you press your hips against Ben's throbbing length, he groans in response, his desire evident in the way his eyes darken with lust. You reach up, pulling him closer as he positions himself between your legs.

Ben thrusts forward, sinking deep inside you in one swift motion. You gasp at the sensation, feeling him fill you completely as he moves with softer strokes. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying with every movement.

You writhe beneath him, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

As the tension builds and you feel yourself nearing the peak of pleasure, Ben's commanding voice cuts through the haze of desire. "Come for me sweetheart", he orders, his voice low and urgent, his gaze intense as he watches you intently.

His words ignite a fire within you, pushing you over the edge as you surrender to the pleasure coursing through your body. With a cry of ecstasy, you shatter into climax, waves of pleasure washing over you as you ride out the intense sensation.

With each thrust, Ben's urgency grows, his desire evident in the way he moves against you.

"Fuck, I'm close", he grunts, his words strained with desire as he drives himself towards the edge. "Gonna come inside you, baby".

You meet his gaze, nodding in response. With one last thrust, Ben finds his release, his body tensing as he spills himself deep and hot inside you with a primal groan.

As Ben's climax washes over him, he collapses against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath comes ragged and heavy against your skin, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you bask in the warmth of the moment. His dick throbs inside you, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

For a few blissful moments, you both remain tangled together, lost in the intimacy of the aftermath.

As Ben slowly rolls himself beside you, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

"You okay?", he asks, his voice gentle as he caresses your cheek.

You nod, a soft smile spreading across your lips. "More than okay", you murmur, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his.

Ben returns your smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss against your lips, before you placed your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

Ben's chest grew warmer beneath your cheek, and a sense of panic flickered through you. "Ben, your chest", you exclaimed, pulling away slightly, concern etched in your voice.

Ben's gaze shifted to where your hand rested on his chest, his expression tight with controlled emotion. He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he fought to calm himself down. His grip around your body tightened, seeking solace in your presence amidst the turmoil within him.

"It's okay", Ben muttered, his voice strained with effort. "I've got it under control".

You nodded, though the concern lingered in your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of distress. Despite his reassurance, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As you leaned up and pressed your lips against Ben's jaw, trailing kisses along his stubbled skin, you hoped to distract both him and yourself from the rising tension in the room. His struggle to maintain control was evident, his muscles tense beneath your touch.

You lingered at his mouth, kissing him softly, pouring all your love and affection into the gentle caress.

As you continued to kiss him, you gently cupped his face, urging him to meet your gaze. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and turmoil.

"Do you remember what you said to me the night before the fight?", you asked softly, your voice tinged with emotion. "The words that made me feel so angry and hurt?".

As your thumb brushed over his cheek, you felt the heat radiating from his chest, but you fought to keep your composure. With a shaky breath, you pressed on.

"I was angry because it's true", you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I… love you, Ben".

Feeling the weight of your words, Ben's expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and vulnerability. It was a revelation for him, a moment that he never expected to experience.

For the first time in his life, someone had told him they loved him, and meant it with their whole heart.

———————————

A/N: First, sorry for the long silence. But, I'm back. Well, a lot happend in this chapter. And a lot will happen in the next chapters. I can promise one thing, no matter what you think will happen, it will definitely be different... And that counts for several upcoming chapters... The two of them definitely won't find peace that quickly. Otherwise we would already be at the end of the story <3 Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 23

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #smut #billy butcher #hugh #hughie campbell

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ts1m1kas · 6 months

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Original Ask: I wanted to ask if u could do a imagine with gavi like imagine the whole anita pelayo thing and everything and the reader gets jelaous and she and pablo had a argument about it and he said that they slept together and after that u broke up with him and he's all sad and doesn't eat anything but with a happy ending (@rainbowwuuu)

Word Count: 551 words

Content Warning: angsty, but has a happy ending !!

(author's note: i hope i did your request justice my love !! the support on my Gavi fics is immense . i hope you all enjoy this one too my lovelies 🥹🫶)

For Pablo, winning games was the best feeling in the world. However, he didn’t share the same enthusiasm for the web of lies he had tangled himself in since his actions at the game’s afterparty.

The guilt he felt was immense. He had always been the type of guy to scoff at the men who cheated on their girlfriends. But Pablo Gavi had become what he hated most.

Afterparties were always a recipe for disaster. Pablo knew this. So why he decided to go out instead of returning home to the waiting embrace of his girlfriend was beyond his own knowledge.

The alcohol had charmed its way into his system. It had also charmed a girl into his arms. A girl who wasn’t Y/N. The couple had kept their relationship secret in order to maintain their privacy. This led to many theories being produced about Pablo’s love life. The Internet loves to speculate, and it seemed they foretold the future in this awful situation and Gavi was beside himself.

Being tangled in the sheets with another woman was the last thing he expected to spend his night doing and when he woke up in the morning, he had a harsh reality to face.

He broke it off immediately. He couldn’t let this other girl think she had any whisper of a chance with him. Or maybe he should’ve clarified that before he slept with her? His mind was a complete mess.

The thing that haunted his mind the most was telling his girlfriend what he did. He could picture it now. Her teary eyes shining with the hurt of his actions. Her heart aching with the stab of his betrayal. He felt ill.

He told her. Eventually. However, it hurt more in real life than any way he could’ve imagined it. He couldn’t even hold her while she sobbed, mourning their relationship. He couldn’t wipe her tears and tell her everything would be okay. Because he knew it wouldn’t.

After that day, their relationship was no more. They parted ways and cut contact. But Pablo was an utter mess.

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t move.

He lay in his bed, rotting in the misery he felt. Pablo wished he could go back in time. He would never have spoken to that girl. He would never have gotten drunk. Hell, he would never have gone to the party in the first place.

Pablo had lost the girl he loved and it was all his fault.

A couple of months went by and Pablo had made up his mind. He didn’t care what lengths he had to go to, he was going to win back the love of his life.

After a sincere apology, tears and no excuses for his behaviour, Y/N forgave him. She was hurt by his actions. Anyone in their right mind would be. However she could tell, from the bottom of her heart, that Gavi was full of nothing but regret. The love she felt for him would never go away and under the premise of him swearing to never be unfaithful again, she took him back.

The trust was broken, but it can be rebuilt. Pablo was willing to do anything to prove this to the woman he loved more than life itself.

#pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi #fc barcelona #fanfiction #fanfic #football #hot footballers #x reader #request #by ts1m1kas

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colderdrafts · 2 months

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13 – A disturbance

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. TW for gore and violence. First Previous Next

Dimly lit tunnels passes by you in a blur as you walk, unseen forces tugging at you to keep moving. So far, you’ve passed by the path to collect water, the living room, the library, the sleeping quarters - deeper and deeper into the depths of Dren's extensive and confusing home. Eventually, you find yourself at the entrance of tunnels you’ve yet to travel.

You lantern does not do much to illuminate what lies beyond this point. It's like staring into a void. While Dren has vigilantly made sure the tunnels you most frequent remains lit, other tunnels leading to and from those places are not. Still, the agitated anxious energy will not leave you.

I need to move.

You take a few tentative steps forward. The need does not diminish. Is the air colder here? Or are you just nervous?

What a silly thought. There's nothing to be scared of down here.

You press on, and soon, you find yourself accompanied by darkness.

Well, the dark, at least, you correct yourself, throwing an annoyed thought the harpy’s way.

You're not too worried about getting lost, knowing Dren will instinctively know where you are and can come guide you back. Still, there's something eerie about venturing alone into the unfamiliar dark tunnels, with only a lantern to guide you. The deafening silence down here still gets to you at times. It’s just so achingly empty.

Perhaps it's something one can get used to. After all, Dren still lives here, doesn’t he? But even if it is a spider thing, you can't fathom it's very pleasant.

The dark stretches before you, and you feel a little better the further you go, trying to keep track of the turns you make.

You come by yet another small stream that floats gently through the tunnel you’re in, carved out so it gently trinkles along the side of the wall. Neatly out of the main path, yet still serving as a guide. Perhaps it’ll lead you somewhere, and it should at least be easy enough to track back. You watch the swirling patterns carved into the wall as you follow the small stream, listening to the calm flow of water that fills the otherwise heavy stillness.

Several indents in the web above you signals there’s tunnels leading up too. Seems Dren has thoroughly connected to this part of the cave as well. You’d probably be able to reach up and climb them if you really wanted to. That is, if the thread he’s spun here isn’t that sticky stuff he uses for traps. You’d not want to be tangled in one of those again.

You gingerly reach out toward the ceiling to test it, when a very, very subtle sound of movement somewhere to your right catches your attention.

Movement? Down here? That can’t be right.

Nothing but you should be alive this far down, should it?

This must be your mind playing tricks. Your brain just wants to fill out the quiet with something. Regardless, goosebumps appear on your skin. With them, comes the continued need to move.

“Fine, I’m going,” you mutter to no one in annoyance. Why are your hands suddenly so clammy? The parasite inside you churns with worry at the thought of hostility, though not in the way of Morgan’s presence bearing down on you. So where is this sudden burst of anxiety coming from?

A muffled sound like rock hitting dirt disturbs your train of thought. It came from the same direction.

You frown. Perhaps you should follow your instinct here. If anything, to prove to yourself everything’s fine.

You quickly pull down the cover of the lantern, leaving you in the complete dark, but with your hand on the wall you feel your way forward towards the sound.

There’s a small indent on the wall, and feeling around it, you find there's a tunnel leading up, thankfully closer to the ground where you can reach it. The sounds might have come from somewhere within.

You quietly lift yourself up. It's not far, and soon you're standing in a slightly smaller tunnel. It goes upwards. From here, you can hear it much better. The movement turns to quiet muttering. Unfamiliar voices. Up ahead, you see the faintest light source.

Your heartbeat quickens. You're definitely not alone.

Your fears confirmed, you sneak forward as quietly as you can, the soft padding of your feet on the dirt below. Something’s wrong. You stare at the swirling patterns there, finding some comfort knowing you're still in touch with a highly efficient defense system. But why hasn't it set of the one who usually monitors it?

You reach the end of the smaller tunnel, the faint lights shining from within illuminating the walls and floor. Interestingly, in this spot, Dren has apparently decided to cover every surface in a soft padding of web. You carefully peek around the corner with bated breath.

Oh.

It would seem you've found out where Dren hides his eggs.

You're looking into a small enclave covered in web from ceiling to ground. In the middle is a small cluster of three orange, oval eggs about the size of soccer-balls, covered in a protective layer of webbing. It takes second for you to register the utter defenselessness of them. How much you've just imposed on the sanctity of their hidden room.

If not for the light piercing the dark you just came from, you'd never have found them. You glance further into the room, and find its source. Your blood runs cold.

Three hooded figures are standing at the opposite end of the alcove, eyeing the eggs and quietly whispering in foreign noises to each other. One of them moves their head, and you catch a glimpse of blueish tinted scales of their skin. You grit your teeth, realizing what's happening.

They're snatchers. There's no doubt about it.

Behind them, there is a small open hole in the wall, barely big enough to fit an adult human through.

So that's how they did it. Your grip on the lantern tightens, wondering if these are the same thieves that made way with the rest of Dren's children. And finding a need to plant a solid fist in each of their faces, as it seems they're about to finish the job. Nasty little things.

What should you do?

If you start yelling for Dren they'll undoubtedly find you, and you can easily picture what could happen: You get attacked, and they haul ass out of there, snatching whatever they can carry quickly and make away.

It risks the arachnid losing the rest of his offspring. You don't want to know how he'd react to that. You can hardly bear leaving him even with his family still alive.

You should at least try to warn him.

Soundlessly, you run your fingers through the soft webs to find the carvings on the wall, finding the strong, silky warning thread within. You shake it vigorously. Some of the webbing breaks off and sticks to your hand, but you don't have time to worry about that right now, picking out another one and shaking that one too for good measure.

Simultaneously, the snatchers start moving.

One of them steps extremely carefully toward the eggs. In the light from their lantern, you spot that it has covered its feet in web, and carefully moves so that no other part of its body touches it.

Huh. Clever.

You shake the web again. If Dren doesn't feel it, he's going to lose them. You bite back a loud protest yell as the thief slowly reaches toward one of the defenseless orbs on the floor.

It would appear you need to make a decision. You need to move.

At this rate, Dren will never make it in time before they're gone. And you're not going to stand idly by and witness a kidnapping without at least trying to intervene. You'll have to buy their parent some time. You brace yourself for potentially one of the most stupidly risky acts you've performed in your life.

"Leave them!" you bellow suddenly, and fling yourself toward the snatcher closest to the eggs.

Element of surprise on your side, a gnarly startled screech escapes the creature, and it immediately stumbles backwards towards its fellows, and out of your way.

You quickly jump forward and stand in front of the eggs protectively, shielding them from the offenders with your arms out in an awkward position.

It's quiet a moment. The snatchers stare at you, and up close now you recognize one of them as the red one who spotted you back at the marketplace. Their yellow eyes once again stare into yours.

They bare their teeth at you and hiss something, guttural words you can’t make sense of.

The other two step out to flank you, and suddenly the sharp ends of a pair of spears are pointed at you.

You ball your fists to keep your hands from shaking.

"I'm not letting you take them," you hiss back, relying on a bubbling protective anger to keep you grounded. "I've already called for the parent. You should get out of here while you still can."

You're bluffing, and frankly you don't even know if these creatures can understand you. But you don't get any option to find out as the red one snarls something else. In a split second, the blue one on their left lunges at you, spear at the ready.

You instinctively throw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging the tip of the wooden weapon. However, you've left the eggs exposed when doing so.

The other two immediately take advantage and close in on them, while the blue one focuses on keeping you occupied.

You grab two handfuls of web from your position close to the wall and pull with all your might. It comes off with a soft ripping noise, and you quickly hurl it at your blue assailant.

The blue one rambles angrily, probably in no kind terms telling you to knock it off, tearing the sticky threads off their body. They hiss, and jab forward, stabbing at you again. You jump sideways, but the creature is quick to reassess their aim. The weapon connects with the tissue in your shoulder and you grunt in pain, feeling warm blood trickle down your arm.

The other two have meanwhile managed to pick up one of the eggs each. You don’t have time to intervene with the blue one still coming at you.

In an act of desperation you swing your lantern at them, hitting them over the head with a loud clonk. The glass shatters, sharp splinters flying across the room. The blue one staggers back, dazed and now bleeding.

You take the opportunity and step forward, shoving your uninjured shoulder into their side. They're smaller than you, and trips and falls, further disturbing the webbing below.

You manage to snatch up their discarded spear, and rush ahead to cut the thieves off, blocking the small hole that makes the exit. You point it at the two fleeing with one egg each.

"Put them down!" you demand.

The two others stop momentarily, hissing at you, but while your focus was on them, the blue one has recovered. You feel a scaled arm locking around you and catching you in a headlock. You're roughly pulled backwards, losing your grip on the spear. The other two waste no time hurrying toward the exit with their prices.

The one furthest behind does not get that far. A flash of black snatches it clean off the ground, squealing.

Their red companion turns in time to watch a pair of long, hairy and pitch black spider’s legs slowly appearing from the opening of the alcove, having grappled their friend uncomfortably tight around the stomach.

Dren fully enters the room, his imposing presence suddenly making the small room feel much smaller. He's holding the snatcher with his front legs, and they're kicking and snarling in his grip, desperately struggling to escape. The egg lands on the soft webbing below with a soft bump, thankfully unharmed, and Dren quickly uses another leg to pull it behind him to safety.

Then he let's out a disgusted huff, and rapidly slams the snatcher into the ground. Following the movement is a loud crunch.

You hear bone snapping with the force of the impact, and the snatcher squeals in agony.

Dren carelessly lifts the screaming creature, and smashes them against the floor again. Their pained cries echoes through the otherwise deadly silence of the cave.

You can do nothing but stare.

Drens lifts the snatcher, and knocks them against the floor again.

And again.

Three more times, until the squealing snatcher goes silent save for a wet gurgling wheeze, their body reduced to a broken pile of bones and meat.

A cold sweat breaks out as your entire body shudders, distraught from the horrific sight.

How long until he cracks, and simply kills you?

The grip on your head lessens in favor of gripping around your upper body tightly, and you hear a small whine from the blue snatcher holding you captive. It feels like it now focuses more on using you as a meat shield rather than trapping you.

Dren looks up from the ruined carcass below him and his eyes dart between the one holding you, and the one holding his second egg, eerily quiet with and odd stoic expression. Fresh blood drips from his carapace, his mandibles clicking in contemplation, like wondering who he should sink his fangs into next.

No one dares move.

You suddenly understand why an insect freezes in the presence of a predator, fearful of what any slight disturbance in the air would set off. It's like he's an arrow nocked on a bow, ready to release at any moment, and you pray to anyone who might be listening that you're not its target.

You suddenly feel something sharp poking your side and let out a small gasp. Not a millisecond later, you let out a yell as a large spiders body is suddenly towering over you, there in a flash. The blue snatcher’s grip on you vanishes in an instant as it flies upwards, dropping a knife that falls to the webbed ground with a soft thud.

You stumble forward, landing clumsily on your knees and palms in the sticky webbing below. All around you there is movement as Dren paces around, his lower body above you. There's an uncanny wet tearing noise, and you suddenly see droplets of blood falling on the floor as yet another squealing egg-thief is efficiently silenced.

You hear footsteps, as the last of the snatchers, the red one, makes a beeline for the small exit, sprinting across the alcove with one egg in each arm.

Dren's entire body springs to attention as he moves above you, pointing in the direction of the last thief. He dashes toward it, carelessly throwing the now disfigured body he was holding aside. They splatter against the wall with a squelch, leaving blood stains behind as they join their dead comrade.

The last snatcher barely manages to leap through the opening before Dren tramples them flat.

"NO!" Dren roars, and starts pushing his legs into the opening, too big to fit through. "NO!"

His enraged outburst echoes through the cave as he claws at the opening in the wall, trying to make it bigger so he can give chase.

You sit up and stare at him, feeling your heart galloping, a stench of blood and sweat in the air. Your eyes dart to the two mangled corpses carelessly thrown to the ground, and you find it odd. How were these lumps of meat two people just mere seconds ago? The final egg lies motionless on the floor close to them, vulnerable and harmless. The very beginning of this whole conflict.

What will they be capable when they grow up?

You look back to Dren, your answer, your companion and protector, watching him completely loose himself along the safety of his last eggs.

There's an odd sort of clarity in your mind then, watching this unfold. Like being inside the eye of a storm.

Something in the way Dren tears through his home without a care of ruining what he has spend so long building, in between his wheezes and snarling, you're reminded of what he is in this moment. Despite having witnessed him tearing two people apart in seconds flat, despite the bloody scene and ruthless violence - right now, he's just a parent, desperately trying to avoid any harm coming to his children.

You can feel it. You can sense the pain and fear fueling his wrath, and you find it links to something you share with him. Something inside you pops, a sudden burst of anger demands you take action.

Dren won’t fit through that hole. But you will.

Quickly, you find yourself on your feet, picking up the discarded spear and rushing toward the custodian to help.

"Move!" you yell at Dren, and he doesn't hear you at all, still feverishly ripping whole chunks out of the wall. "Out of the way!"

You push past the flurry of movement that is his legs, and shiver when they grace across your back when you interrupt, but thankfully no further - seems he's still coherent enough not to squash you - so you quickly slip inside the opening to chase down the red thief. The arachnid’s distressed shouting and hissing continues behind you, and you hear him call your name.

You see the light-source up ahead and sprint toward the snatcher, even though you're not really sure what you're going to do if you catch it. The tunnel is narrow and you need to duck your head under roots traveling across the ceiling. The snatcher is quick, but you find yourself at an even pace, even catching up. It carrying two eggs might have given you an advantage in movement.

The snatcher stops up ahead close to a small ladder presumably leading outside. Carefully but quickly, the red one puts the eggs into a basket waiting on the ground next to it. You intercept them there, spear at the ready.

"Give them back!" you yell.

The red snatcher stares up at you in surprise, and meets your threat with a hiss. They take a heavy step forward.

You don't let up. You angrily jab the spear at Red again to force them further back, and away from the eggs.

They snarl at you this time, two long fangs glinting in the dim lantern light as their hands open and closes, considering their options. With their hood back, you notice the red scales covering their head are torn in places. Their yellow eyes are blown wide open, and their nostrils are flaring.

They're afraid.

As they should be.

"Run now, and you may get out of here alive," you spit, trying your words while they're still reluctant to fight. "Get the hell out of dodge before the spider figures out the tunnel has another entrance point."

You're still not sure if the thing even understands you. But they look between you and the basket containing their price, and then glances back the way where a certain large predator has his mind currently set to 'brutally murderous'.

The snatcher takes a few steps backwards, watching you. When you make no move, they turn on their heel, and dashes toward the ladder, leaving the eggs and lantern behind. They glance back at you one last time, before rapidly ascending it into the darkness outside, and out of view.

You keep watch for a few seconds, giving the snatcher time to cover some ground before daring to look away from the opening.

Once certain they've gone, you hurriedly open the basket, and look over the eggs.

They're still orange, slightly translucent, and, most importantly, uninjured. On top of the tough membrane, you see what seems to be an outline of legs. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief, carefully putting a hand on one of them. It’s pleasantly warm.

There's a strange sort of intimacy in staring at these fragile little creatures. After all, Dren's trusted no one to see them, not even you.

This is Dren’s children you’re looking at. And you've just saved their lives.

Carefully, your reach down to scoop them up in your arms.

"Holy shit, do not drop them, do not drop them.." you urgently whisper to yourself as you do, anxious you might accidentally do just that.

The warmth emanating from them is familiar, and you hold them close to your chest, carefully making your way back down the tunnel. The weight of them in your arms brings an odd sense of calm to you, despite the haphazard situation.

A brief gust of wind stops you, however, and you glance back at the hole above the ladder.

You almost feel a pull, calling you towards it.

What a bad time to be interrupted. But you could just go and leave everything behind to be somewhere else, couldn't you?

All these emotions, all of this trouble, the blood and violence, everything you'll need to fix when you get back home. You don't have to do any of it.

It's almost tempting to climb up, if just for a few seconds. Just escape to the outside and feel free of it all.

Escape? You stop and ponder on your own train of thought. That would require I'm a captive.

You look down at the two vulnerable orbs nestled safely in your arms.

No. Something else inside you says. These are more important right now.

You trudge back down the tunnel, ignoring the thing inside you squirming in protest.

Dren has meanwhile managed to turn the opening of the snatcher tunnel into mulch. He's still going at it when you return, now completely silent save for the noise of dirt being ripped apart.

The sight reminds you of the potential danger from this whole confrontation. Dren's current state of mind, and the full view of his powerful legs violently reducing the wall to nothing, is not helping matters. Suddenly, you don’t feel much like a savior. You feel more like a rat hiding inside a crack in the wall, while the cat tries to furiously claw its way towards it.

You step in place for a moment, unsure.

"Dren?" you call out eventually, hesitant.

And the movement halts. You can hear him panting from the effort, tense and awaiting your next words with panicked anticipation.

Your throat is dry. "I- I have them. They're okay.”

Dren’s legs slowly retreat and his head and torso appears in the tunnel entrance. He leans down to peer through it at you.

All his pitch black eyes are wide open and his mandibles are flaring, but something in his expression shifts when he spots you holding his eggs close as to not drop them. Fear? Anger? Desperation? You can't read him at all.

You take a wary step back.

“Please,” he rasps quickly when you do so, and very, very slowly reaches his bloodied hands toward you. Inviting you in with open arms. “Please. Come here.”

There's something eerily familiar in the way he says that, his voice gently rolling through your mind, urging, compelling you, in a way he hasn't done before.

The cold sweat prickling your skin at the feeling makes you reluctant to follow the instruction. Yet, another part quite would like to, would like to indeed, you can trust him and get closer, he’s safe, you know he’s safe- You shake it off, unsure if he's of sound mind to not grab and tear you apart the second you're within reach. Just like he did the previous creature who held his eggs.

Dren swallows, obviously struggling to not continue his rampage to just get them back, to just reach you, to take control of what happens to what is his - armed with the patience of an experienced predator he takes a deep breath, grounding himself as to not startle you further, lest you take flight.

"Please," he says softly, normally, waving his hands in a beckoning motion.

You realize the amount of power you hold over him right now. If you wanted, you could turn on your heel and walk away. You could name a price. You could throw the eggs on the ground and trample them flat, and he would be powerless to stop you.

But you don't. These eggs are innocent and vulnerable, and in front of you stands a sure-fire way to ensure that nothing will happen to them.

You still see Dren there despite the terror. You recognize his patience and fiercely protective nature, that’s been there with you every step of the way. Now, once again, working to keep everything he cares about safe.

You slowly make your way toward him. He’s staring at you almost like in a trance.

You had prepared to hand the eggs over once you reached him, but Dren slowly moves back, allowing you to pass through the carnage that used to be an entry point. Just watching with wide eyes. You’re not exactly sure what he expects you to do. But he hasn't stopped you, so you keep going.

You step across the alcove, and carefully place the eggs back to their right place in the middle of the room. Dren comes up next to you, and places the third next to them. In silence, he starts gently wrapping some of the ruined webbing over them again with his front legs. You move back to give him space to fuss over them.

You've barely taken a step before he rapidly turns, and suddenly lunges towards you. With his arms, he snatches you clean off the ground.

You can't hold back a small scream as you're suddenly in the air - this is it, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm so so dead - which Dren completely ignores, as he forcibly squeezes you against his torso in a bone-crushing embrace.

Your face is flattened against his fur-covered shoulder, your arms sprawled to the side in shock, legs dangling uselessly over the ground. You hardly dare breathe, not that the force currently pressuring your ribs allows for much lung expansion anyway.

Dren buries his face in the crook of your neck.

He's shaking.

"Thank you," he breathes, clutching you a bit tighter. "Thank you."

You dangle awkwardly in his arms, trying to calm your racing pulse, taking shuddering breaths. Oh. It would appear this is gratitude.

Gingerly, not really knowing what else to do, you wrap your arms around him in turn, and he shudders when you do so. He shifts then, and you feel yourself being leaned backwards, settled on his pedipalps. Your backside is leaning against the web-covered eggs, and his front legs curl around them, holding both you and them in place.

He holds you like that for a while. You let him cling to you, while he works through whatever it is he needs to work through to calm down after this experience.

You don't dare glance toward the mutilated corpses currently concealed behind the furred shoulder, your face is pressing against. You ignore the stains of crimson littering the space. There's nothing you can really say, so you settle for running your fingers through the hairs on the back of Dren’s neck in a soothing manner. A soft chitter suggests he likes it when you do that, at least.

"It's alright," you mutter softly, testing the waters. "They're safe."

"Safe," he repeats, nodding against your shoulder. “Safe.”

There’s a pause, and then Dren readjusts his hold a bit. You feel him tense, like preparing for an impact. He sucks in a breath before he speaks.

“Give me the winter,” he blurts hurriedly. Like he needed to get it out before it was too late. “Just the winter.”

You try to lean back and get a look at him, but his grip won’t let you move an inch away - as if he's afraid to let you go.

“What..?” you try as softly as you can. He’s getting agitated.

“Just until they hatch, until they can fend for themselves,” Dren elaborates, rushed words leaving him like rapid fire. “I’ll help you get back home, I promise, whatever you need, I'll do it. Just – please stay. Act as my sentry. Give me the winter.”

Supposedly it makes sense he would do this now, of all times. It would seem this is what it took to finally break him.

You lean further into him, if anything to silently let him know you're not just going up in thin air, so maybe his death-grip on you lessens a bit.

You sigh. "That's - but Dren, you know I'm not-"

"You're perfect," he states firmly, cutting you off. The tips of his fangs brush over your neck as he speaks. "You kept watch and called for me when it was needed - risked yourself to defend my young, despite them not being your responsibility - you've already done more than I could ever ask. I have no right, I know that, but I can't - If I lose anyone else-" he trails off in his rambling. "Please. Give me the winter."

It's not like you're actually much in a position to say 'no', but you don't really get the feeling Dren is thinking about that right now. Like your refusal means you're going to slip through his fingers, and vanish in an instant. As if he's not the one holding your only known key home. As if he's not perfectly capable of keeping you trapped here, if he so did desire.

But maybe his conviction in this ultimately being your choice means something - maybe that actually means everything.

You sense the remaining vulnerable eggs pressing against your backside, a faint reminder of what you did tonight. It seems it's wasn't really you who needed to move.

You’re already connected to them, aren’t you? How could you possibly leave everything behind? Not now. Not after all of this.

What's a few months of darkness as a price for keeping everyone you care about alive?

"Okay," you whisper, clutching him back. You can feel a pressure growing around you, like you’ve just used your entire body to pick up something heavy. It’s warm. "Okay, you can have my winter."

"I will let you go," Dren assures you firmly, speaking through his teeth. "It will hurt, I know it will, for both of us, but I vow to you, when all this is over, when we're all safe-"

"I know," you placate. "I trust you."

Dren breathes out, and with it leaves the tension in his body. He finally leans back to look at you again, and there are tears in black eyes. Carefully, gently, his hands reaches up to cup your face. You stare at him like you did earlier this very day and, once again, he effortlessly draws you in.

Because looking at him like this is nice. It’s really, really nice. You’re being enveloped in a warm blanket, soothing all worry you’ve ever had. You can feel a pull from him, coaxing you closer, something gently wrapping around you. Of course this will work, of course you’re in good hands here, of course Dren knows what’s best -

A sudden piercing pain shoots through you in retaliation, and you gasp, severing eye contact and instinctively trying to curl up to protect yourself. It's no use. The pain strikes your core, like a gun was fired from within. Something inside you heavily disagrees.

Dren hisses at the interruption and deftly pulls you to him again, like a futile attempt to shield you with his body. You can feel his formerly calm energy clouded in a protective fury, zeroing in on the interloper, surrounding it, grabbing it, strangling it.

You cry out. You can’t help it. The parasite’s pain is as much yours as it is its, and the agony is unbearable. It feels like your chest is being crushed, like your ribs can shatter and destroy your innards at any moment.

“I know, Sweetness, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, shh,” Dren soothes you, holding you against him with a hand over the back of your neck, keeping his grip on the parasite and angrily thwarting it.

It feels like forever you're in this pure world of pain, at some point you may have started begging for it to stop, only wishing dearly for everything to turn quiet, for it to be over. You can faintly hear reassurances and apologies in the foggy cloud of your consciousness, and something, someone, peers into your mind, feeling for a thread intertwining with the very core of your being.

Then, there’s a small release of pressure, like when you’ve finished tying the knot of a shoelace. At the end, you let it go, sitting neat and comfortably tight.

And then the pain is gone.

It’s like the hook trapping the fish suddenly disappearing from the fight. The struggle is over, leaving the fishing line there, suspended in the flowing water. Useless.

Dren’s breath is warm on your neck as he chitters and purrs to calm you, pedipalps and arms around you like both of his halves are checking on you at once. You just hold on to him, feeling an immense relief coursing through your body. The pressure is gone, leaving you sore, and completely exhausted. Vulnerable.

And you can feel him. Really, feel him.

Dren is everywhere around you, inside you, his energy twisting and turning in a strange dance. He’s happy. So, so happy. The overflowing emotion is infectious, and you struggle to hold in an odd strangled laugh full of sobs.

And it dawns on you now what you’ve just agreed to. What you’ve just accepted into your life. And, if what you’ve learned from the harpy is true, you’ve just acquired the qualifications for your new job as a sentry.

#colderwriting #in which things finally fall in place #or something like that..#drider x you #monster x reader #drider #drider x reader #uv #terato #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x human

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cookie-nom-nom · 3 months

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Reading Barrayar I felt trapped in Cordelia’s head. It’s incredibly effective for the dread of war as a civilian. Plans and machinations happening beyond you, with no input. Hearing of things happening that seem far off and like yeah that’s awful but then suddenly it dominoes in a way that destroy your life and it’s not your fault and you could've done nothing at all to prevent it. Especially the tension of being hunted in the Dendarii mountains with no idea how the war is going, if they’ve already lost, if it is already too late. Cordelia is doing actively important things in service of the war by sheltering Gregor, yet there's this pervasive feeling of helpless lack of control. She spends most of the book with this dread of not knowing when the next threat to their family will come, and I don’t think it could’ve been done so effectively if we had access to the information Aral had. I found it frustrating at times, since it felt like Cordelia was swept up in events with little agency (at first; obviously our dear captain didn’t remain there). I wanted so badly to be with Aral seeing and knowing and making the decisions.

But that’s the point! Most people have absolutely zero agency in those situations and little information and it’s terrifying. Barrayar captures the feeling of being a civilian in war where so many narratives narrow in upon the heroes and 'men of history' that control conflicts. That's what readers expect. I think that’s why I loved the ending so much. After so long trapped with Cordelia, just trying to survive the larger machinations of Barrayar’s bloody politics, it felt so, so good to finally be on the offensive, to have information the opponents don’t, to finally have power and the means to control what happens. It's a relief to the constant tension of having no agency in a giant conflict that frankly Cordelia had no business being affect by, yet was swept up in because of her love of Aral.

Which is the second thing I deeply enjoyed in Barrayar. I love how the war is made so human. A messy tangle of human relationships control it. I can’t stop thinking about the hostages. There are just so many children being used because the war holds the future hostage. Tiny precious Miles utterly incapable of comprehending how large a pawn he is. Young grieving Gregor vital to the plans of both sides whether dead or alive. Elena, who should be of no importance but she is because that's the kid of an unimportant soldier, just like every other hostage is another piece in the web of the war. I keep thinking about the relatives of Aral’s men caught in the capital. The hostages that Aral refuses to take. Everyone just trying to take care of those they love, and the points where they must put other priorities over their relationships are heart wrenching.

Barrayar looks dead on at how little people try to survive a civil war. From the mountains where the fighting seems so far, and information is slowed to a trickle of the singular mailman. The invasion of forces that disrupts people who may not even know there’s a war yet. The scientists and the genius lost in a single blast that goes unnoticed. The urban populations trying to sneak in food and people and keep their heads down. Random citizens debating who to sell out, weighing risks and bounties, if it will get them the favor with the occupiers that will help them survive. All so small in the grand scheme of things, and yet they are who Barrayar concerns itself with.

Cordelia’s uncertainty and fear would’ve been undermined if we were allowed to see in the heads of people driving the conflict, because Barrayar isn’t about those people. It is the desperation of two mothers, powerless and kept in the dark, that topples the regime.

Addendum: Cordelia’s relationship to Aral firmly places her in an upper class position that is important to note when discussing the role of civilians/‘little people’ within this analysis. But as a woman on Barrayar she is extremely limited in the power she is allocated, especially compared to someone like Aral, which would be the military leadership POV that novels more focused on the grander scope of war would utilize. Again not to say Cordelia has no agency or power, but it is not to the degree of the people in charge. Thus I place her alongside the average people swept up in a war outside their control. Still, her position as a Vor Lady gives her some access knowledge and connections that she turns into power, which while limited are far more than the average citizen. Her significance to Vordarrian is exclusively viewed as yet another hostage, an underestimation that Cordelia readily exploits, but still afforded only due to her status. Cordelia occupies a position of importance but not power beyond the scope of the people she’s formed direct relationships with, which only further ties into the essay's thesis.

#I found it so so frustrating at first to be trapped with Cordelia until I realized. That's the point. She's trapped too.#Also probably a symptom of me being an omniscient 3rd person writer. I want to explore everyone and feel trapped in just 1 head #anyway probably mispelled so many character names plz have mercy I'm an audio book boi #y'all I meant this to be a very brief couple of sentence about a nitpick but then i just had to unpack author intentions. Sigh.#kinda miss writing english essays ngl.#vorkosigan saga #cordelia naismith vorkosigan #aral vorkosigan #vorkosigan analysis #barrayar #literary analysis #cordelia vorkosigan #something to nom on

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Hello there, how is your day?? Can I ask for one fic for drider boyfriend series where he made reader wear his web silk (as a dress) which is very rare in his community as it shows that the person wearing it is their mate and so far the humans are only kept as pet by drider community......and reader is looking so sweet and cute wrapped up in the web silk that whole community is cooing and praising them for being a good human mate??? I found ur works yesterday and I'm obsessed.... really u are great!!! Thanx ❤

My day was good, thanks for asking! I had a cup of tea and my cat is sleeping on my lap. This is actually a long one because I like this idea a lot <3 Your drider boyfriend also gets a name in this one ^_^

Word count: 1.5K

W: sfw monster fluff

Fluff Masterpost

Tip Jar

“Oh no,” your drider grumbled as he cradled you on his chest. He’d made a little hammock for the two of you and you were curled up on him listening to his heartbeat while he knitted. You weren’t sure what he was referring to until you heard a scrabble that usually meant a drider was coming.

“Vass!” a soft voice filled the darkness and another set of eyes, these glowing yellow hovered nearby.

“Uh…hello Strix, what brings you here?” Vass asked, but he didn’t sound like he was really very interested.

The other drider tossed a wad of silk at him and he had to grab you with two legs and pull you away to avoid getting hit with it. His knitting tumbled off of his lap and ended up tangled over some threads. He examined the fabric in his other arms, fingering the material.

“You haven’t been practicing your weaving Strix,” he said, frowning, “this is very rough. Do you want me to help you fix it?”

He shook out the fabric and it appeared to be some kind of garment made of white silk, but the neckline was all crooked and the stitching was visible in the uneven sleeves. The intruding drider looked horrified.

“No!” he snapped, “it’s for the mating ceremony…f-for…for you!”

All of Vass’s eyes narrowed.

“No means no Strix!” he growled, “I don’t care what my mother says, I’m not mating with you!”

“B-but she said you just needed some time…and a romantic gesture…I don’t understand…she said…” his tone got harder, “I already worked this all out with her! She said you would learn to love me and you would return to the castle with me so we can rule!”

Vass tossed the garment back at Strix.

“I haven’t spoken to my mother in ten years,” he snapped back, “and I don’t appreciate having my life meddled with. I told my mother that when I left, and I’m telling you now. I don’t plan on mating a drider and becoming regent. I want a simple life here in the country. Nothing you or she says or brings me is going to change that! Tell her if she wants you to rule, she can adopt you! Now you need to go!”

Strix looked like he was going to argue but Vass grabbed a knitting needle and brandished it, so the drider thought better of it and scuttled away.

Your drider huffed, examining his ruined knitting and tossed whatever he had been working on to the side. It was tangled beyond salvation.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “I thought my mother had given up on controlling my life…but I guess not…”

You gave him a sympathetic nod. You would give him some words of encouragement, but he still kept you gagged except for when you were eating. A look of affection and then determination crossed his face as he traced your nose with the pad of his thumb.

He patted your head and hung you back up on his web, out of the way, while he set himself to weaving something new with his silk. You could only watch his back muscles flex as he cut and sewed fabric. You fell asleep watching him work late into the early hours.

–

You woke early the next day to the drider humming happily. He smiled at you with a knowing look while he fed you your breakfast and was practically skipping over the threads of his web while he cleaned your face and body. He spent especially long braiding the threads of your hair into an intricate style. Finally, with a big grin he tugged your clothes off of you like you were just a doll, pulling something soft and silky over your head.

“Do you like it?” he asked, stepping back so you could inspect what he’d dressed you in.

It was a lovely dress, the silk delicate but still crisp forming a bell shape around you. He’d somehow woven texture into it and a slightly raised pattern of vines and flowers covered you from your neck to your knees. He pushed your feet into some soft booties to match and spun you around in his arms. He seemed very pleased with his outfit and you couldn’t help but share in his joy. It was very pretty. You felt tiny and delicate next to his larger, more rugged form.

“We have some place special to go today,” he said, “you don’t have to wear a collar if you promise to hold my hand and be very good and quiet.”

You nodded. It was very unlikely you were going to escape this city of driders who seemed to like to keep humans as pets. If you got away from Vass, someone else would take you as their own or you would be sent to a shelter. It was depressing, yes, but you’d had some time to digest the information and Vass kept you full and warm enough that it started to bother you less and less. His face, which had once frightened you, had gotten familiar, handsome even with his many soulful eyes, despite his large teeth.

You’d promised to hold his hand, but Vass carried you in his arms to the large plaza where many other driders were gathering. Like you, many of them were dressed in beautiful robes. They weren’t all white, but it kind of made you proud that yours was. It stood out, not just because of the color but because Vass’s craftsmanship was far beyond any of the others. They seemed to all be organized in pairs, except the ones around the edges of the area who were fanning themselves and lounging in the shade.

“Did you dress your pet up for the ceremony?” an older drider cooed at Vass, “They look so sweet, just like a mate!”

Vass had a very smug look on his face.

“I’m mating them,” he announced and your eyes got wide.

The drider chuckled and waved her hand.

“The youth today,” she laughed, “what will they think of next?”

You got a few strange looks as Vass made his way through the crowd, but mostly driders stopped Vass to compliment your robe and try and pinch your cheeks.

“I’m here to register my mate,” Vass said to the drider standing behind a large open ledger at the front of the court.

His eyes didn’t even look at you.

“They have to be present to sign their name,” he said evenly.

Vass pushed you forward.

“They are right here,” he said, patting you on the head.

The drider’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly but he shrugged and handed you a pen.

“Sign here,” he said.

You had to lean up on your tiptoes to scribble your name next to Vass’s.

The drider took the pen back from you and smiled.

“It is awfully cute when they pretend to be like us,” he admitted, “with their two little legs. How can they even walk?”

He fished around in a basket and pulled out a ribbon, fastening it in your hair and then waved at another drider.

“Arad come see this! This guy has his human dressed up as a mate, it’s so cute!”

Vass lifted his nose, but let them lift your arms and spin you around to look at your outfit.

“Dumpling is my mate!” he grumbled indignantly.

The drider held up his hands apologetically.

“Whatever makes you happy, friend,” the drider said, “I have to say this is my first mating ceremony with a human mate, but it's pretty precious. You’re going to start a trend.”

He leaned down to your level and patted you on the head.

“Do you want to light the fire, little one?” he asked.

His friend grabbed his shoulder.

“Delphon, really? This is a religious ceremony,” he scoffed, but the drider waved him away.

“Come on, it’s harmless and it’ll be cute! Look how pretty it is in its little dress and its even wearing the mating ribbon. Who’s gonna object?”

That’s how you ended up shaking, standing in front of a hundred paired driders holding a candle after Delphon delivered the mating speech declaring you were linked to the drider until death. You had to stand on your tiptoes again to hold the flame up to the ceremonial pyre symbolizing the start of the futures of all of the mates gathered, including your own.

A round of applause went up signaling that you’d completed the mission and you turned around to find Vass beaming at you. He swept you up in his arms and spun you around.

“That was perfect, dumpling!” he said, smooching you on the head.

You would have happily head home to go back to your warm snuggle, but the driders swarmed you. Everyone wanted pictures with the adorable human mate that lit the mating pyre. Finally, as the sun set, Vass carried you home fast asleep on his back, flipping through the pictures he took of the two of you on his phone with a smile on his face.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster lover #human x monster #monster #drider #drider boyfriend #drider x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere fluff #monster fluff #sfw fluff

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ceo-of-sloppy-men · 6 months

Text

Captured

Ship: Kar'niss/Reader Rating: Explicit Tags: no plot, belly bulge, eggs, oviposition, bondage, fisting, rough sex (not in that order) Summary:

Your heart pounds in your chest as you push yourself beyond your limits. Sprinting through the forest you desperately scramble over the logs in your path and duck under partially fallen trees, lantern jangling at your hip as you try to get away. You can hear him chasing after you, spindly legs clicking against ruined cobblestone as he gains on you.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you push yourself beyond your limits. Sprinting through the forest, you desperately scramble over the logs in your path and duck under partially fallen trees, lantern jangling at your hip as you try to get away. You can hear him chasing after you, spindly legs clicking against ruined cobblestone as he gains on you. Your lungs are screaming in your chest – or perhaps those are actually screams? – as you frantically try to go faster. It’s futile; moments later, your legs are tangled together with sticky webs, and you definitely scream as you hit the ground hard. With your legs bound, you try to shove the webs off them, only to be rewarded by your arms being bound to your chest, leaving you bent on the ground with your ass presented high.

“What has our majesty brought before us? A gift? Have we earned a gift for our sore body?” the drider – Kar’niss, you think his name was – asks as he looms over you.

You squirm on the ground, trying to get away, trying to break free of the webs and run far, far away from him. But the light from his lantern only serves to illuminate your struggle and how utterly exhausted you have grown. Out of spells, too exhausted to put up a proper fight, and your mind going to horrid, erotic places about what he might do to you. He’s most likely going to kill you, but that doesn’t stop you from hoping for a less definitive fate of something a little more mutual.

Clammy hands drag up your back, stopping at your belt. Curious eyes peer at your crotch as you flush in embarrassment. You feel two fingers press against your clothed cunt, pushing the fabric of your pants against the rapidly growing wet spot. Out of all the days to forget underwear, this was the worst. You know he can see the growing spot of slick dampening your crotch, and all you can do is pray he focuses on it.

“A gift, truly a gift, Our Majesty has given us a gift,” he giggles happily. The lantern is stabbed into the ground next to your head.

In an instant, he grabs hold of your pants and yanks, an awful tearing sound echoing through the forest as he pulls them down and apart. He’s chanting something about you being all his as he pushes two fingers into your sopping-wet cunt. When he realizes they glide in with ease, he giggles in delight, seeing just how many you can fit. Three turns into four before you finally start to feel a bit of a stretch as he wiggles them inside you, stretching them apart, mesmerized by your quivering walls. Then, he pulls his hand out, watching you gape and hearing you whimper.

“No, please, don’t stop,” you beg. Maybe if you play up the dramatics, you can convince yourself you’re doing this solely for survival. Maybe…

“It begs for us! It wants us! It degrades itself for our company. Your majesty, what have we done to deserve such obedience?” Kar’niss whines over you, one finger teasingly pushed inside you.

“Please,” you beg again, rutting your hips back.

He pulls his hand out again, and you can’t help but whimper at the loss. Only for his hand to return, all four fingers pressed against your insides as he sinks lower and lower until you feel his thumb press into you, the knuckle brushing against your walls. You feel his whole fist sink into you, stretching you to the point of tears as you rut your hips back against him. He grins maliciously, pushing his arm inside you until he brushes against your cervix, marvelling at the way you stretch around him. Then he starts fucking you at a rapid, desperate pace as he watches his fist sink in and out of you as you mewl below him, begging for more.

“So big and spacious and warm and wet. You will do nicely. Your majesty, how can we ever repay you for this gift of warmth for our eggs?” Kar’niss whines, continuing to fuck you with his fist.

Eggs? Oh no! So that’s why he wanted you. So that’s why you’re a gift for him. You’re going to become his incubator! Aren’t driders not able to have children? What kind of dark magic has the Absolute inflicted upon him?!

In a panic, you try to squirm away, still bound by the webs, and he tuts, pulling you back with his hand still inside you. He uses it to fuck you harder, almost a bruising pace as if to teach you a lesson.

“No, no, you’re just fine where you are; no need to get on your belly. So eager to take our eggs and feel them inside you that you’d press into the Earth for extra pressure. Here, let me help you,” Kar’niss scolds you. Panic courses through you as he sprays webs across your torso, tightening them around your stomach. You can feel it press your stomach against his arm, making you gasp. You feel so much tighter as it squeezes your body forcibly around his fist.

“There! Now you will feel far more! How wonderful it will be to fill you and watch you grow until you burst my webs!”

He pulls his arm out slowly until he’s spreading you open with his slick hand, leaving you feeling horribly empty. You feel something warm and slender slip past his hand and inside you, aided by his hand. The tip is narrow, leaving you wondering why he needs to hold you open until he pushes the rest of his phallus inside you, feeling it widen as you get closer to the base. It stretches you far past the size of his fist as if making room inside of your poor body. The webs press your stomach against it, refusing to allow your body to relax around the length. Keeping you tight and broken, whining against the dirt as he fucks into you eagerly. He lets you feel the slick slide of his dick and the needy twitch it gives with each desperate thrust as his legs cage you to the ground. He’s rambling above you incoherently as you’re bent further into the ground, ass held up by his hands wrapped around your waist. Your brain is completely mush as if you were made solely for him to fuck in desperation.

Then something hard at the base presses against your hole each time he thrusts into you. Confusion swims in your brain as he desperately ruts his hips against your swollen cunt, trying to push his length fully into you. When he tries, it stretches you to your max, making you squirm and cry underneath him, trying to scramble away despite your webbed restraints.

“No! Please! It hurts – I can’t take it; it won’t fit!” you cry as he roughly pulls you back into position.

“You will,” he growls above you, pushing a finger into you alongside his dick. “Our Majesty has gifted you to us, you will fit all of our eggs. You will take them.”

He roughly pushes you open with two fingers in your cunt, spread as far apart as he can manage. The round base slips into you with a sharp cry as your cunt quivers around it. A mind-breaking orgasm rocks through you as he continues to fuck you harshly, pushing the inflated base in and out of you roughly to stretch your body to it. Once he’s decided you can take him easy, Kar’niss withdraws his fingers quickly, letting you feel the way your cunt stretches around it. He continues to fuck you through the oversensitivity of your orgasm until he pulls you flush to his hips.

Your clouded mind scrambles to piece together if he’s finished already, and you just didn’t notice. Until the round base slowly moves down the length of his dick, stopping at the head as Kar’niss groans. You feel it slip out and into you, and your eyes go wide as you realize it’s an egg! Roughly the size of a tennis ball, slightly squishy, settled deep inside you. Before you can figure out to panic or moan, a second one moves down his length, with a third starting to press into you. A depraved moan escapes you as you feel the second one settle deep inside of you, putting tension on the webs around your stomach. The third egg is deposited into you, and you groan, feeling it put more tension on the webs. Your body convulses around the eggs, cumming hard as you feel the fourth egg slip inside of you, followed swiftly by the fifth and sixth. They make you feel so full, stretched to your limit, and still coming. A ninth slides down Kar’niss’ dick with a tenth at the base as you whine below him.

“No, please. It’s too much, they’re too much. I’m going to burst,” you whimper pathetically, trying once again to pull away from him.

He tuts his tongue as he pulls you off the ground, spinning webs around your hands to hang you from a sign hook on a crumbling building. Your legs are unbound as he repositions you, holding them open with his hands as he pushes the tenth egg into your swollen belly.

“You keep these webs on until you burst them. You will take our eggs like a good little gift. It is your purpose; it is what Our Majesty has brought you into this world to do,” Kar’niss hisses, nipping at your neck as if to scold you.

You can do nothing but whimper and whine in his touch as he continues to pump you full of eggs. No protests get through to him until you slowly lose the will to protest as a fourth – or is it a fifth? – orgasm rocks through your abused body. You feel your belly swell against the webs until, finally, you feel strands start to snap and buckle. All at once, it tears down the middle, leaving your swollen belly to hang down as he pants in front of you, dick still buried inside you.

Is he done? Oh gods, does he have more eggs? You panic as he gives one last desperate roll of his hips before you feel something sticky pump into you. He withdraws his penis, still cumming and letting part of it drip down your thighs. You feel it congeal and harden inside of you, plugging you full of eggs and leaving you teary-eyed. He spins webs around your distended, aching belly before tossing you over his back happily.

“You will make a fine addition to our room! A pretty, plump decoration,” he chitters happily, heading back to Moonrise Towers. You almost swear there’s a skip in his step.

#nsft #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 kar'niss #kar'niss #kar'niss x reader #kar'niss x you #ao3 link #putting my time in the d2 fandom to good use

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