#I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this before

[daisymbin]

Mingyu x fem!reader

Angst - 18. "i thought you were different." with reader saying that.

Also happy ending pleeeeaaase 🥺👉👈

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angst prompt #18: "I thought you were different."

you sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions racing through you. mingyu stood a few steps away, looking like he was caught in a storm, his expression somewhere between panic and heartbreak.

“it wasn’t what it looked like,” he started, his voice trembling. “please, baby. you have to believe me.”

you let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the tense silence. “believe you? mingyu, i saw you with her. do you even know what that feels like for me?” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

"baby, i wasn’t—it wasn’t like that,” he stammered, taking a hesitant step forward. “she’s just a friend. she was crying about her boyfriend, and i was just trying to comfort her.”

you shook your head, the image of him leaning close to another girl still fresh in your mind. “you don’t get it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i’ve been here before. i’ve seen this before, mingyu. my ex…” your words faltered as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “my ex used to do the same thing. he’d tell me it was nothing, just a friend. and the whole time, he was—” your breath hitched as the painful memories resurfaced. "I thought you were different," you whispered timidly, mingyu doesn't miss the disappointment and heartbreak in your voice.

mingyu’s face crumpled as he took in your words. “sweetheart…” his voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “you think i’m like him?” his words were soft, but the hurt behind them was unmistakable.

“i don’t know what to think,” you admitted, your hands gripping your arms tighter as if to shield yourself from the pain. “when i saw you with her, it felt like i was right back there again. it felt like—like i wasn’t enough. like i never will be.”

“don’t say that.” mingyu’s voice broke, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of you, his hands reaching for yours but stopping just short, unsure if you’d let him touch you. “baby, you’re everything to me. everything. how could you even think—” his voice cracked, and he dropped his head, his shoulders trembling.

you looked down at him, his vulnerability catching you off guard. he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t defensive. he was hurt—deeply hurt—and it made your chest ache in a way that felt unbearable.

“i know what he did to you,” mingyu continued, his voice barely audible. “i know how much he hurt you. and it kills me that you’d think i could ever… that you’d see me like that.” he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, glassy with unshed tears. “do you really think i could do that to you? to us?”

you hesitated, his words slowly sinking in. the mingyu you knew wasn’t like that. he wasn’t manipulative, or mean, or sneaky, or cruel. he was open, loving, and kind, and he wore his heart on his sleeve. you’d let your fears and insecurities cloud the truth, and now you could see how much it had hurt him. because mingyu would never intentionally hurt you.

“mingyu, i—” your voice faltered as you tried to find the words. “i don’t think you’re like him. i just… i got scared. i saw you with her, and it felt so familiar, and i panicked.” tears of vulnerability now stream down your face.

his hands finally found yours, and when you didn’t pull away, he clung to them like a lifeline. “i understand,” he said softly. “i just… i don’t ever want you to doubt how much you mean to me. you’re not just someone to me, my love. you’re it. you’re everything.”

the sincerity in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes, made the remaining walls around your heart crumble. slowly, you nodded, your grip on his hands tightening. “i’m sorry,” you whispered. “i shouldn’t have assumed the worst. i should’ve talked to you.”

“no, don't apologise," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “i should have been more aware, i should have been my careful especially knowing what you’ve been through, and i hate that i made you feel like this. but i promise, i’d never hurt you like that. i just couldn’t.” his hand reach out shakily to wipe your tears away.

"I trust you,"

and that was all mingyu needed, the relief that washed over mingyu’s face was immediate and overwhelming. he let out a breath he didnt know he had been holding, and his hands moved to cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. “thank you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “thank you for trusting me.”

“can we… can we just go to bed now?” he asked, his voice soft and almost shy. “i really want need to hold you.”

your chest tightened at his words, and you nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “yeah,” you whispered.

he stood up, pulling you gently to your feet and wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you feel safe, cherished. as he led you to the bedroom, you felt the weight of the misunderstanding lift, replaced by the steady warmth of his love.

when you finally settled into bed, mingyu pulled you close, his arms tight around your waist and his face buried in your hair. “i love you,” he murmured, his voice laced with exhaustion but full of certainty. “so much.”

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing soft patterns on his arm.

[dissapointu]

hello! just read your sevika works and WOW, I love the way you write her so much!

whenever you have time could you dabble in some sort sevika? something like; having a bath together, or just bathing her, and she ends up crying because she's never felt anything like this before, ty!! ❤️❤️

OH. MY. GOD. FIRST OF ALL??? THANK YOU??? You have no idea how much that means to me 😭😭 Sevika stans are elite, I don’t make the rules. Second of all, yes, I will absolutely dabble in this for you because the image of Sevika just breaking down in a tub is so real that I had to write it out-

____________________________________________

Okay, so picture this:

Sevika’s never been one for softness, right? Like, she’s all sharp edges, clenched fists, and an unshakable poker face that screams, “Don’t even think about it.” But somewhere along the line, you weaseled your way into her heart (as one does), and now you’re in her life, showing her what it’s like to actually let someone take care of her.

So, you convince her to let you help her clean up after another long day of getting her hands dirty for Silco’s operations. She’s stiff at first, sitting in the tub with her back straight like she’s on a battlefield instead of in a warm bath. You gently pull her mechanical arm off (and she HATES letting people do that for her, but for you? She just grumbles and lets it happen).

You grab a sponge, lather it up with soap that smells way too nice for someone as rugged as her (but she secretly loves it), and start washing her back. You’re so careful around her scars, like you’re afraid of hurting her, and that’s when she starts to lose it. Her shoulders tense, and she tries to keep up the tough act, but then you start running your fingers through her hair to rinse out the grime, and—boom. Waterworks.

She doesn’t even know why she’s crying at first, but she just leans forward, her hands covering her face as her chest heaves with these messy, gut-wrenching sobs. And you’re just THERE, holding her head against your chest and murmuring things like, “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

It hits her all at once: no one’s ever treated her like this before. Like she’s worth this kind of care, this kind of tenderness. She’s always been the one cleaning up other people’s messes—patching them up, fighting their battles. She’s never had anyone do it for her. And now she doesn’t know how to handle it.

When she finally calms down, her voice is so raspy and low when she mutters, “I don’t deserve this.” But you just shush her and kiss her temple, promising that she’s more than earned it, and she just… sits there in the bath, letting herself believe it for the first time in her life.

TL;DR: Sevika’s a big, tough baby who cries the second you show her the tiniest bit of unconditional love, and honestly, same. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

james potter x reader where he's jealous and remus doesn't always talk about sirius

The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening. Most students were milling about outside, taking advantage of the crisp autumn weather, but James Potter was perched stiffly on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, staring at the door as though it owed him an explanation.

Across from him, Remus Lupin was mid-rant, gesturing vaguely with a chocolate frog. "And so I told Sirius he couldn’t just charm the books to read themselves, because that defeats the entire purpose of studying, doesn’t it? But, of course, he—James, are you even listening to me?"

James, who hadn’t looked away from the door in at least five minutes, blinked. "What? Yeah, of course, I’m listening to you."

Remus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? Then what did I just say?"

James scratched the back of his neck, his hazel eyes still glued to the door. "Uh… something about Sirius and… words?"

Remus let out a dramatic sigh, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "You know, I don’t always talk about Sirius, James. I have other topics."

James finally tore his gaze from the door to smirk at his friend. "Sure, Moony. And I’m totally listening to you and not, in any way, staring at the door and counting how long my lovely girlfriend’s been gone with Amos bloody Diggory."

Remus tilted his head, catching the light teasing in James’ tone but also noting the furrow of concern in his brows. "They’ve only been gone for five minutes, Prongs."

"Exactly!" James exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "What could they possibly need to discuss in private for that long? Private. Honestly." He made air quotes around the word as though it were the most ridiculous concept in the world.

"Maybe something private?" Remus suggested with a shrug.

James leaned back, crossing his arms and pouting like a child denied dessert. "You’re not helping, Moony. What could Diggory possibly want? He doesn’t even like books—probably doesn’t know what a book is. Did you see the way he walked her out of the common room? All confident, like he owns the place? Smug git."

Remus suppressed a smile. "You know, if you’re this worried, maybe you should just follow them next time."

"Don’t tempt me." James narrowed his eyes, the wheels clearly turning in his head.

James let out an indignant scoff, running a hand through his messy hair. “Why couldn’t he say it here, in front of everyone, where it’s safe?” His voice grew increasingly dramatic, and Remus could only watch, mildly horrified but also slightly entertained.

“James, I don’t think Diggory is plotting her demise,” Remus reasoned dryly.

“You don’t know that!” James hissed, glaring at the door again as though willing it to open. “He’s suspicious. I mean, why does he always have to be so—ugh—charming?” He spat the word like it physically hurt him. “It’s unnatural. What does he think he’s playing at, asking for ‘private’ time?!”

“You’re spiraling,” Remus pointed out, though his tone carried no real concern.

“Maybe I am spiraling!” James snapped. “Maybe spiraling is exactly what I should be doing when my girlfriend is out there—alone—with Amos Diggory. For TEN MINUTES.”

Before Remus could reply, the portrait swung open, and in walked you, looking perfectly content and completely unaware of the turmoil you’d left in your wake.

James bolted upright, all his previous indignation vanishing in an instant. "You’re back!" He practically sprinted to your side, his glasses slightly askew from the rush.

You blinked at him, startled by his sudden enthusiasm. "Uh, yeah. I was only gone for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?!" James gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? It felt like ten days! One minute feels like a day without you, darling!"

Remus groaned, muttering something about melodrama under his breath as he retreated to his chair.

You laughed, shaking your head. "James, you’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously relieved you’re safe!" he quipped, his eyes softening as they roved over your face. "So… what did Diggory want to talk about? In private," he added, voice dripping with mockery.

You rolled your eyes. "He wanted me to tutor him in Charms."

James’ brow furrowed, jealousy bubbling up, though he masked it poorly with faux curiosity. "And you said…?"

"I said no, of course," you replied breezily. "He’s hopeless and creepy. I can live without that headache."

James’ face immediately brightened, his chest puffing out in pride. “That’s my girl,” he said with a smug grin, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Smart, talented, and way too good to waste her time on someone like Diggory.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Jealous, are we?”

“Who, me? Jealous?” James scoffed, though his ears turned pink. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Behind him, Remus coughed pointedly.

“Alright, maybe a little,” James admitted, pulling you closer. “But it’s only because I’m madly in love with you, and if Diggory thinks he can swoop in and—”

“James, I literally said no to him,” you interrupted, laughing. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Damn right, he doesn’t,” James said, his jealousy melting into his usual cheeky grin. “Now, c’mon, I’ve been waiting forever to cuddle you.”

“Forever being ten minutes,” Remus quipped from his armchair.

James turned to him with a mock glare. “I don’t need your sass, Moony.”

“Of course you don’t,” Remus said with a sigh, hiding a smirk behind his book.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Were you really that worried, Potter?"

"Not worried, per se," he replied, the smirk creeping back onto his face. "Just… concerned for your well-being. Diggory’s a creep. He could’ve tried something. And if he had, well…" He flexed his arms exaggeratedly. "I’d have to remind him why I’m Gryffindor’s best duelist and the Quidditch captain."

You burst into laughter, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh, James. You’re impossible."

"And yet, you love me," he said cheekily, stealing a quick kiss on your forehead.

BONUS

The Quidditch pitch was alive with the sound of beating wings and shouts as the Gryffindor team practiced. You sat on the stands, your eyes glued to James as he weaved through the air, golden and red robes fluttering behind him.

Next to you, Remus was trying to explain something—probably related to Sirius, as always—but you weren’t paying attention.

"And then, of course, Sirius said—Dove? Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I am, Rem," you said absentmindedly, your gaze fixed on James as he executed a particularly sharp turn to dodge a bludger.

"Yeah? What was I talking about then?"

"Something about Sirius and… stuff?"

Remus groaned, his cheeks turning pink. “Why does everyone assume I’m always talking about Sirius?”

You didn’t answer, already back to watching James, who waved at you mid-air and nearly crashed into one of the goalposts. Remus sighed. “You and James are perfect for each other,” he muttered, shaking his head.

[burnforyou]

lay all your love on me

pairing: female singer x jack schlossberg

summary: friends to lovers, he falls first, he’s kinda controlling inspired by his instagram stories today.

“y/n,” jack started, then stopped and just stared at you. you look up from the tomato’s you were chopping and lock eyes with him. you can hear your friends continue their conversation in the other room, unaware of you two.

“hm?”

he sighs. you set down the knife you were using and turn your body fully to him.

“jack?”

“y/n, i want to be serious with you.”

you met jack schlossberg 2 years ago through mutual friends. well, artificial mutual friends. unbeknownst to you, jack arranged for you two to meet after seeing your performance at the Grammys. after your performance, he quickly found whose after party you were attending and got himself on the invites list, and basically faked being friends with people to get to you. how, you’ll never know. but that doesn’t matter.

at the after party, you fell for his charms immediately. he was much more charming (and handsome) than your boyfriend, joe. but that doesn’t matter.

ever since then, you and jack have been the bestest of friends. a day doesn’t go by where you don’t talk to him. now, you’re making pasta from jacks grandma’s famous recipe for your friends.

“i don’t know what you mean.” he picks up his wine glass and downs in it one go.

“i love you, y/n.”

your friends scream as lay all your love on me by ABBA starts playing in the other room.

“i love you too jack” you shout over their singing. they continue even louder. jack grabs your hands, he’s breathing hard. his eyes glisten.

“i’m possessive it isn’t nice” they sing.

“no no, y/n, i want to be with you. y/n i want all of you.”

“jack, this isn’t the right time and you know it.”

you and your boyfriend just broke up because he accused you of cheating. yes, you may have kissed jack once or twice (or maybe a few more times than that) because you were upset, but it wasn’t anything serious. friends kiss all the time, right?

also, you’re about to go on a world tour.

but now it isn’t true

now everything is new

“y/n we can make it work. if you love somebody, you can make it work. and i love you.”

“jack stop it.” you say, removing your hands from his grip but he quickly grabs your waist instead and pulls you closer.

don’t go wasting your emotion

lay all your love on me

“i do, i do love you, you’re amazing there’s nobody like you” you can smell the wine on his breath, it mixes so perfectly with his natural musk and the heat you feel in your stomach from his touch. his hands on your waist that pull you into his body remind you of the first time you kissed him. your body moves before you can think, pulling him down into a kiss. he kisses you like he’s never kissed you before, so needy, so desperate it makes your knees weak. he slinks his hands up to your face and holds you like you’re his treasure. you back away first, hands still on his neck, and he looks at you through hooded eyes.

“the way you smile,” kiss “the way you laugh,” kiss “the way we could spend hours together and i would never get bored,” kiss and a smile. he leans his forehead on yours, your face burns.

the world around you fades away.

“i’ve never felt this way about anybody before,” he whispers.

“me neither.”

“i’ve never laughed so hard in my life. i’m so much better when i’m around you. i cant live without you, y/n” his eyes shine once again.

“jack i love you.” your eyes swell up with tears, blurring jacks face.

“i know we can work it out, y/n, it’ll be fine. we can do distance, hell i’ll follow you across the world. i’d go anywhere for you, y/n, i want this to work. i want us to work.” he speaks as he holds your head, making sure you never look away from him. tears stream down your face, you’re just so overwhelmed with love and emotions you don’t even know what to do. jack holds you and doesn’t let go.

“don’t cry, sweet girl, i need you to listen to me.” you lean into his chest and continue to cry, leaving mascara stains on his white shirt. “why are you crying, hm?”

“jack, i love you so much,” he holds you tight. you never knew how much he loved you, you’ve never been loved like this.

“y/n, listen to me.” you sniffle and look up at him. “i need you, okay? i don’t wanna live without you,” he wipes your tears away, “and if i cant have all of you, i cant handle anything less than all of you. i wanna be with you 24/7, i wanna be fully in love, i never want to leave the stage where we can’t keep our hands off of each other, okay?” you nod against his chest. he never looks away from you.

“i cant share you, i cant share you anymore. i cant share you with another man, i cant share you with your dad, i cant share you with your best friend. i’m your best friend.” he begins to rub your shoulder, his face so full of emotion.

“i’m your best friend who loves you. i’m your best friend who will do anything for you. i’m your best friend, i’m your lover, i’m your husband. i can do all those 3 jobs. i can do it all for you. but i want to know if you can do it all for me.”

“jack, yes,” you speak before you can think.

“shh,” he puts his pointer finger to your lips. “can you be mine?” he asks with a smile. “can you be fully mine? can you be my best friend, partner, lover? can you be the mother of my kids?”

he pauses, looking at you with a smile. neither of you move. your chests rise and fall in unison, your body heat has become one. in this moment, its just you two. you and jack. no one else. no one else matters.

“i’m ready to be serious with you. i don’t want to kiss and tell anymore, i want to marry and tell. i want to be serious with you. i’m committed to you, y/n, and only you.” he pulls you into a deep kiss, a passionate, needy kiss. you kiss him through your tears. you press yourself into his body, a deep need for him taking over.

“so what do you sa-“ you cut off jack before he can finish his sentence with a kiss.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Your Favorite Flavor - pt3

modern!aemond x fem!dealer!reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Aemond and you have been talking nonstop and he makes the trip to come visit you. By the end of his visit you two are closer than he ever thought possible. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, smoking, drugs(weed), face riding, fingering, spanking, oral(f+m), p in v, unprotected

Authors Note: idk when i’m ever gonna get over this man and it’s a touch concerning ! n e ways this is cute and filthy again x

Word Count: 5.6k

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The semester is still a couple weeks out and Aemond has never been more excited for exams so he can go home and see you again. He texts you when he has any moment of spare time and everytime he sees the three little dots his heart races. On late nights when his roommate is out he FaceTimes you for hours and listens to you whine that he’s not next to you. 

“And you say I’m the one who pouts.” Aemond chuckles as you groan and roll over on your bed. 

“Shut up, almond.” you glare at the screen filled with his face. “I think you should come visit me.” you mumble and he grins. 

“Why?” he smirks and you scoff. 

“Do you need an excuse to come see me? You’re the one who begged me last time.” you purse your lips and he relaxes back into his bed. 

“Mm, I think I’d like to hear you beg for me.” he watches your cheeks flush. 

“I’m sure you would.” your voice doesn’t hold the steadiness you’d like it to. 

“I’ll wait.” he chews on his lip with a smile. 

“Aemond,” he hums at you saying his actual name for once. “Please Aem,” you push your bottom lip out. His heart races as your tone “You don’t even have to stay the whole weekend. I just want you to make me come and smoke with me.” you bat your eyelashes at him. “Please,” you whine and he groans and he’s already mentally packing his bag. 

“What will I get out of it?” he raises his brow, enjoying that he’s teasing you for once. 

“Anything.” the word spills from your mouth quickly. “Kisses, head, you can keep me in bed the whole time if you want.” his eyes darken watching you get worked up. “I won’t call you almond all weekend.” he throws his head back and laughs. 

“I don’t believe that for one second.” he purses his lips. 

“Are you coming or not?” you pout. 

“Ask me nicely one more time.” he watches as you move from the bed and prop the phone up and you get on your knees putting your hands in front of you. His breath catches watching you stare at him from the ground. 

“Aemond please,” your whine has his cock starting to harden. “Please come take care of me. I want your- 

“Hey Aemond.” his roommate walks into the room and Aemond turns the volume down. 

“Let me call you later.” he looks down at the phone with flushed cheeks.

“Wait wait, is that your little girlfriend?” Aemonds eyes widen at his words and is about to hang up the phone. 

“You can properly say goodbye to me. Do not hang up on me.” you purse your lips as he looks down at the screen and back to his roommate.

“That weed you gave me was some of the best shit I’ve had. I don’t mind being displaced if you leave more baggies.” he chuckles before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a snap. 

“You told him I’m your girlfriend?” you smile nibbling your lip. He groans, throwing his head back. 

“No, I,” he shakes his head. “I just,” his brows scrunch not knowing what to say and he feels his face heat. 

“Oh baby almond.” you coo much to his horror. 

“You said you wouldn’t call me almond.” he whines and you chuckle. 

“Then come make me stop.” you challenge. “Almond.” you watch his nostrils flare and you giggle. 

“I’ll pack a bag and be on my way within the hour.” he gets up and grabs an empty bag. 

“What about your Friday class?” you raise your eyebrow. 

“I haven’t used any of my absences yet, I’ll be good. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.” you nod quickly with a smile. 

“Okay. Drive safe, almond.” he rolls his eyes and hangs up the call. 

Aemond tosses his phone to the end of his bed and gets up throwing clothes into the bag. He goes to the fridge and grabs some of your soda to bring to you. His roommate comes out of the bathroom and looks at him packing his bag. 

“You good?” he falls back onto his bed. 

“I’m gonna be gone for the weekend.” Aemonds tone slightly clipped, remembering his words of his ‘little girlfriend’.

“Can you pick up for me from your girl? I can send you money.” Aemond sighs and nods his head zipping up his bag. 

“Yeah just send me the money and I’ll grab it.” he stands and offers him a smile. 

Aemond gets to his car quickly and tosses his bag in and starts it up. He sends you a text and starts his drive. He drums his fingers on the wheel with a ridiculous smile on face. He doesn’t care that it’s the middle of the night and he can’t wait to have you in his arms again. Time flies as he drives and soon he’s back in town. He calls you once he’s five minutes away and you answer with a sleep thick voice. 

“Aem?” you hum and he bites his lip. 

“I’m about to pull up.” he hears the blankets shuffle. 

“I’ll meet you outside.” you mumble and hang up the phone. He pulls into your driveway and sees you open the front door and wait for him on the porch. He grabs his bag and walks up to you and you wrap your arms around him. 

“You look so sleepy.” he hums, pulling back and cupping your cheeks. 

“I am.” you pout up at him and tug him into the house. You shut the door and lock it before pulling him upstairs. He follows you into your room and you grab his bag and toss it to the floor. 

“Get back into bed. I’ll be there soon.” he scoots you to your bed and starts to kick off his shoes. You watch him from under the blankets as he pulls his shirt off and pushes down his pants. You lift the blankets and he crawls into bed next to you and you curl against him and his arms wrap around you.

“I missed you.” you mumble and his arms tighten. 

“I missed you too.” he presses his lips to the top of your head. He looks down at you and sees your eyes shut and smiles as he closes his holding you closer. 

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Aemond stretches out as he feels a soft tickling at his neck. He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist as you start to kiss at his neck with more fervor. His hands slip under your shirt as you kiss up his jaw. You press your lips to his and squeak as his hands travel down and squeeze your ass. His hands trail between your thighs, smiling that you're bare and he starts to pull you up his body. 

“Aem,” you giggle as he keeps scooting you up. “What are you doing?” you bat at his hands. 

“Trying to get you to sit on my face.” he smirks as you flush on his chest. He rubs circles into your thighs trying to coax you a little higher. His fingers slip under your thighs and lift you quickly and you gasp as he sets you on his mouth. “Just like this.” he kisses each of your thighs before pressing his lips against your bud. 

His hands travel under your shirt and travel up to your breasts and begin to tweak your nipples. His tongue softly licks at you and you whimper softly above him. His lips encase your bud and you tremble holding onto his arms under your shirt. Your hips start to softly rock against his mouth and he starts lapping at you faster. 

“Please yes,” your pleas are breathy and he pinches your nipples and you mewl above him. His hands sliding down to your hips and he starts to grind you against his mouth. He watches your stomach flex and tighten and his tongue flicks even faster. He hears your quick gasps and pulls you closer against his mouth. “Aemond,” your nails dig into his arms as you come across his face. He lifts you off of his face and takes in your flushed face. 

You lean down and smash your lips to his. You kiss him desperately holding him tightly as he rolls over to hover above you. He can feel the absolute need pouring off of you as you whine into his mouth. He lifts up and chuckles as you pull him back down against you. He goes to lift up again and you wrap your legs around him holding him tightly. “Please,” you whine arching up into him. 

“Gods you’re so needy today.” he chuckles watching you squirm beneath him. He laughs as a pout forms on your face and he kisses it away. You sigh, burying your fingers in his hair. “What do you wanna do today?” he hums against your lips. 

“You.” you reach up and press your lips to his. 

“I was thinking I could take you out somewhere.” he pulls back and looks down at you. 

“Almond, are you trying to take me on a date?” you smirk up at him and watch his cheeks flush. 

“You said you wouldn’t call me that all weekend.” he purses his lips as you continue to giggle. “Get up and get dressed.” he untangles from you and watches you pout in the pile of blankets. 

“Where are you dragging me?” you throw your shirt at him and he turns to you with dark eyes. 

“I want to surprise my little girlfriend and take her somewhere. So get up and get dressed.” your breath catches at his tone causing your cheeks to heat. You nod and walk over to your closet grabbing out clothes. He watches you get dressed and smiles to himself that you actually listened and looked flushed. He pulls his pants on and grabs the bag with your soda. “I brought you these.” he hums and you turn to him tilting your head. 

“Almond.” you coo grabbing the bag. He’s had enough of the nickname for the weekend and stalks over to you grabbing your chin making you look up at him. “Hm?” you blink up at him. 

“I’ve had enough of you calling me almond.” he glares at you as you smirk. “I mean it.” he flares his nostrils. 

“Mm do you almond?” he dips his head down to yours. 

“If you say it again I won’t let you come for the rest of the weekend.” he watches your eyes widen in shock. 

“That’s no way to treat your ‘little girlfriend’.” you purse your lips squinting your eyes at him. 

“It's no way to treat your boyfriend calling him ‘baby almond’.” he waits for your response as he watches your cheeks flush. 

“If you wanna date me you need to ask me out.” you tilt your chin up higher. 

“If you wanna date me you need to stop calling me baby almond.” he raises his eyebrow to you. 

“So is little almond okay? Or what about my little almond joy?” he exhales deeply looking up at the ceiling. 

“Your little almond joy is getting ready to put you over his knees.” you smile getting excited seeing this side of him. “I don’t want to hear anything else. Finish getting dressed so I can take you on a date.” he purses his lips as he grabs his bag to find a shirt. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Aemond stares at you from across the table unbelieving that he’s in a staring contest with you at a cafe. You rest your head in your hands and stare at him unblinking and he mirrors your movements. The waitress drops off the drinks and you mumble a thanks still staring ahead at Aemond. You know this will make him terribly mad but you have no plans on losing. You kick his leg under the table and he blinks at you, baffled as you start to giggle. 

“You lose.” you say triumphant before grabbing your glass and sipping your coffee. 

“You cheated.” he shakes his head, grabbing his drink. 

“The only rule you said was no blinking. Don’t be such a sore loser, little almond.” he chuckles, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Baby brother?” Gods that’s a voice he wasn’t expecting to hear. He watches your face soften as Helaena approaches your table. “What are you two doing?” she nibbles her lip with a knowing smile. 

“He begged to take me on a date.” you look up at his sister with a grin. “How could I say no to sweet baby almond?” you slide your eyes to Aemond and see him clench his jaw. 

“Moms gonna be mad you didn’t tell her you’re in town.” Helaena looks at him and he groans. 

“Don’t tell her.” he looks up at her with pleading eyes. 

“I won’t if you tell me how long this has been going on.” she gestures between us, chewing her lip to hide her smile. 

“A couple weeks. He’s terribly obsessed with me.” his eyes snap to you as you joke with his sister. 

“How could he not be?” she laughs. “Don’t fuck this up.” Helaena hisses at Aemond. “Okay well enjoy and I’ll text you somewhere nice to take her.” she tosses over her shoulder as she makes her way up to the counter to order her drink. 

“What did I say about ‘baby almond’?” he watches you try and fail to stifle your laughter. 

“I mean technically I said ‘sweet baby almond’.” he starts to tap his rings against the glass as he stares at you. You recline back into your chair as you look at him pouting.

“Aemond if you want to woo her you need to speak and not just stare at her like that.” Helaena approaches our table once more. He slides his eyes up to her, pursing his lips. 

“Everytime I try to talk to her she teases me.” he offers me a pointed look and Helaena and I giggle at the same time. 

“That means she likes you, loser.” Helaena whispers in his ear and pats his back. “Ugh you two are cute.” she sticks her finger in her mouth jokingly before she leaves the cafe. His phone dings and he pulls it out looking at what Helaena’s suggestion is. 

helaena: *sent directions* 

Aemond clicks it and groans at her stupidity. You  snatch the phone from him and bark out a laugh and he takes his phone back with red cheeks. You pull out your phone to message Helaena. 

you: Gods you should see him blushing at ‘Poundtown’ i literally have tears in my eyes buuut tmi? we’ve already been there 🫣🤭 

hel: i figured 😭 he was far too happy when he came back from picking up from you 🙄 

You look up and see Aemond frowning at you with red cheeks. He doesn’t want you to see him as just Helaena’s little brother that you occasionally fuck. You put your phone back in your pocket and reach for his hand across the table. He places his hand in yours and you wrap your other hand around it too. 

“I’m sorry.” you say softly and he scrunches his brows. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” he shakes his head feeling embarrassed for showing his feelings on his face so openly. 

“I am enjoying my time with you today.” his eyes search yours. “As much as I love you between my thighs, it’s nice to go out.” your words are so soft and the way you’re holding his hands has his heart beating faster.

“Any amount of time you spend with me I enjoy. No matter what we do.” its your turn to flush at his words.

“Careful baby almond. Your massive crush is showing.” he rolls his eyes, squeezing your hands tightly.

“You think you’re hiding yours any better?” he raises a brow. “You were the one begging last night and whining about how much you missed me.” he loves watching your cheeks redden at his words.

“You’re the one who drove to me in the middle of the night.” you watch his smile grow.

“You still haven’t thanked me. I come all the way down here just to hold you and make you come and what do I get? Relentless teasing.” you chew the inside of your cheek as you chuckle.

“Thank you for always being so desperate to get between my thighs.” you watch him flare his nostrils.

“Gods you’re being a brat today.” he shakes his head at you. 

“I am not.” you glare at him across the table.

“Oh, but you are.” he smiles watching your cheeks flush. You huff and rise from the table and start towards the door, smiling as you hear his chair scrape on the ground. You push open the door and start to walk down the sidewalk until he pulls you back against him. You look up at him with that pout that drives him crazy and he buries his fingers in your hair tilting your head up for him. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you today. He’s ready to pull you down an alley and take you against the bricks. 

“I thought I was getting my sweet baby almond today, not pouting Aemond.” he watches your lips turn up and he tilts your head further up. 

“Yet all you’ve done today is tease me.” you bite your lip at his tone. 

“No.” you try to shake your head but his fingers won’t give. You look up at him waiting for him to do something. You want to see if that authoritative tone earlier was just a show or if he would back it up. You figured teasing him relentlessly was the best route, you’ll either be on your knees apologizing with your mouth or over his knees like he said. “Baby almond.” you coo.

“Let’s go.” his hand leaves your hair and wraps around your wrist pulling you. You pull him back and he turns with a glare. “Walk to the car or I’ll drag you.” his voice low. 

“I don’t believe you.” you purse your lips and he chuckles. His grip tightens and he starts to pull you to the car. You see his jaw flex as he starts to pull you faster. He pulls the door open for you and looks at you expectantly. 

“Get in the car.” you take your seat and he has the door clicked shut a second later. 

“Where are you taking me now, almond?” you turn to him with a smile. 

“Home.” his tone excites you. 

“Why?” you whine and he slides his eyes to you turning on the car. 

He shakes his head and pulls the car onto the road. You take his hand and he can’t stop the small smile on his face as you twist his rings. A low groan comes from his lips as you take one of his fingers into your mouth. You brush your tongue against the digit and Aemonds breathing deepens. He pulls his finger from your mouth and pats his hand on your thigh leaving it there. The rest of the ride is silent building promises of what’s to come. 

“Is anyone home?” he turns to you when he pulls in the driveway. 

You shake your head and he gets out of the car and is pulling you out of your side quickly. You unlock the door and he ushers you inside and is dragging you up the stairs. Once in your room he tugs you over the bed and your heart races in anticipation. He sits down and looks up at you with a smirk. 

“Take off your clothes.” your breath catches at his words. He nods at you, raising an eyebrow. You slowly peel off each layer and he leans back and watches you. He can not wait to absolutely ruin you once you're in his arms. He holds his hand out for you to come to him and you slowly walk to stand in front of him. “Gods look at you.” he hums, sliding his hands from your waist down to your hips. He brings one of his hands down hard on your ass and watches you bite your lip and scoot closer to him. He repeats the action with his other hand and you let out a small whimper. 

“Please,” his eyes darken and he guides you over his knees. You squeeze your legs shut and he chuckles trailing a finger up your slit. He smiles as his finger slides through your dripping center while you squirm beneath him. His other hand comes down on your cheek as he slips his finger into your core. “Aemond,” you whine as he starts to pump his finger. 

“Hm?” he brings his hand down again on your cheek as he slips a second finger in. He watches your legs curl up as he starts to slam his fingers into you. He spanks each of your cheeks again and the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard fall from your lips. Aemond listens to the sounds you make to be sure you’re still enjoying yourself even though he can feel your squeezing his fingers tightly. The sounds of your pleas and wetness cause his cock to throb and he pulls his fingers out needing to have you right now. 

“No, please,” you grab for his arm and he chuckles at your desperation. “I’ll be good.” you whine and he groans at your words before lifting you up. 

“I know you will.” he pushes you onto the bed and you lift your ass into the air for him. 

He pulls his clothes off and he watches you spread your legs wider for him. He brings your hips to him and he swirls his tip around your wetness. He pushes in slowly clenching his teeth at the feel of you wrapping around him. You grip the sheets as he starts to snap his hips into yours. When his hand lands on your cheek you fall apart around him moaning loudly. 

“Fuck.” Aemonds fingers dig into your hips continuing to push into you. 

His pleasure builds at your small whimpers and gasps that fill the room along with the sounds of your wetness. You push your hips back into his and he lands his hands onto your ass again. His hips falter as you pulse around him whining his name. His fingers dig into you as his high washes through him. He collapses on the bed next to you and you move to lay against his chest. 

“So you’re done pouting now?” your taunt comes out breathy. He flips you over and you look up at him nibbling your lip as he hovers above you with dark eyes. 

“You’re not done with your attitude.” you squeak when his fingers slip back into you. When his thumb swipes across your bud you tremble. You arch up into him and he chuckles leaning down above your lips. You reach up and he pulls his head back watching you pout. He curls his fingers watching your face scrunch with pleasure the faster he moves.

“Aemond, please,” you gasp, holding onto his arm. “Please,” the word goes straight to his cock once more. He chuckles as your pleasure coats his fingers and pours out of you while you cling against him. He pulls his fingers out and slams into you and your breath catches in your throat. “Yes, Aem,” your eyes roll back as he hammers into you. 

“Fucking perfect.” he grunts and you claw into his back when his fingers circle your sensitive bud. A loud cry falls from your lips as your pleasure explodes through you. Your toes curl as he slams into you while spilling his pleasure into you. He rests his forehead on yours as you both pant. “Anything more to say?” you shake your head clinging against him. 

“Please,” you pull him down to your lips. He slowly presses his lips to yours and when his tongue slips into your mouth you sigh. He rolls you both over and has you rest against his chest as his fingers caress your skin. You whimper into his mouth at his soft touch and he kisses down your neck. 

“I’m gonna take you dinner tomorrow. You’ll be nice and you won’t call me almond.” he sucks softly on your neck and you nod holding onto him tightly.

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Today Aemond has seen how much you’ll allow him to get away with. Everytime you nod your head at a suggestion his heart races. You didn’t even protest when he picked out your shortest, flirest dress for you to wear. You simply smiled and paired it with long socks that made his eyes darken. Not even when he pushed his fingers into your panties on the way to the restaurant, you just put them in your mouth after you came all over them. 

“Fuck your like a perfect little doll today.” he groans watching you clean his fingers as you both sit parked outside of the restaurant. 

“After the way you fucked me yesterday you can have anything, Aem.” you bat your lashes at him and he groans. He gets out of the car and goes to your door and offers you his hand. He leads you into the dim restaurant and you lean against him as you wait to be led to the table. 

“Are your cheeks still sore?” he dips down and whispers in your ear. 

You gasp as his hand squeezes against your ass before wrapping around your waist. You look up at him with pleading eyes and he leans down to press his lips to yours. He chuckles at your pout as he pulls back. You’re both led to a table and he pulls out your chair for you. He sits across from you and you smile looking at his relaxed features. 

“You are so handsome, Aemond.” you reach your hand out for his. You haven’t called him almond all day and he refuses to admit he misses it the smallest amount. “So cute when you blush.” he grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth. “I wish you didn’t have to leave in the morning.” your soft words surprise him. 

“I don’t want to leave either.” he rubs his thumb across your hand. “I’ll be home in a couple weeks.” your frown causes his chest to tighten. 

“I know. I’m just going to miss you.” you don’t care how needy you sound. “I know we’ll call and stuff but,” your frown deepens. 

“I mean there’s no reason we can just switch driving to each other every weekend.” he nibbles on his lip. “It’s not that far. Unless that’s too much and- 

“I would like that.” you nod your head quickly. “A lot.” you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. 

“So you’ll come up next weekend?” he searches your eyes. 

“I’ll be there on Friday when you get out of class.” you squeeze his hand. 

“As my girlfriend?” he knows there’s a flush on his face as he waits for your answer. 

“Or your perfect doll.” you offer him a playful smile. 

“Both?” his eyes darken. 

“I suppose I could do that for my boyfriend.” you watch a smile spread across his face. 

The waitress takes your orders and you spend the next couple of hours in a sweet bliss enjoying each other's company. When you get home you push him back onto your bed and roll at your desk. He watches you walk back to him and he just wants to lay you out in the bed and devour you. 

“Here.” you crawl into bed with him and lean against him. He lights the blunt and passes it to you. Your eyes become lidded as you both smoke and you start to look at him with such intense need. “Finish it.” you hum and slide down his body to settle between his legs. He looks at you with flushed cheeks as you start to unbutton his pants. 

He groans as you wrap your fingers around him and free him from his pants. You suck his tip into his mouth and watch his chest heave. He brings the blunt to his mouth and watches you lower your mouth. He sighs feeling your soft lips wrap around him and he curses as you hollow your cheeks. You look up at him and he groans, putting the blunt in the ashtray. 

“You’re fucking perfect.” Aemond rasps down to you.  You start to bob your head faster and he tosses his head back. His hips jerk and you follow his movements and his fingers tangle in your hair. With the way you’re looking at him his stomach starts to tighten as you bob faster. You bring him to the back of your throat and he groans, pulling your hair as his pleasure flows into your mouth. You hum around him swallowing his pleasure as soft moans fall from his mouth. You slowly pull your mouth off of him watching his face twist with pleasure. 

“Come up here.” you slowly crawl back up the bed and he smashes his lips to yours. He pulls your dress up and rubs his fingers across your soaked panties. “Lay back on the bed.” he smiles against your lips. He pushes the sleeves down your arms and tugs the dress down to expose your chest. His lips attach to one of your nipples and he quickly flicks his tongue across it. He takes the peak between his teeth and chuckles as you squirm beneath him. His other hand is between your thighs teasing you above your panties. 

“Aemond please,” your hips chase his hand. He listens to your soft pleases as he licks across your chest to your other nipple before swirling around it with his tongue. He smiles feeling your panties getting wetter as he teases you. He harshly sucks your peak into his mouth and you whimper above him. He rises and leaves your chest glistening before he slides down your body. He presses his lips against your panties watching your thighs shake beside his head. 

He flicks his tongue against your covered bud and your chest heaves. You grind against his face and he chuckles and slides his tongue down to your core. He pulls back and looks down at you. Your pouted lips are parted and your cheeks are flushed. His eyes slide to your chest and your hardened nipples that he wants to put between his teeth again just so he can hear those soft cries. He then looks at your panties that are soaked just for him. 

“Touch me, please.” his eyes snap up to yours at your plea. “Please, Aem,” you’re begging for him. You, his girlfriend. His head spins and he pulls off your panties. He throws your legs over his shoulders as his mouth attaches to your core. He groans being greeted by your dripping center. “Yes,” you cry arching off the bed. His hands push your dress up more to dig into your waist. You fall apart as his tongue lashes against you. He slowly pulls back watching the pleasure still course through your body. 

He brings his lips to yours and you hold him against you. He pulls back to tug his clothes off and helps you do the same. He lays back into bed and pulls the blankets over you both as you cling to him. He smiles to himself that you didn’t call him almond all day and now you’re officially his girlfriend who’s curled against him. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

You sit in bed with a frown as you watch Aemond pack his bag. He walks over to you with a shirt and slips it over your head before bending down and pressing his lips to yours. You try to pull him back into bed but he pulls you out of it. You purse your lips walking over to your dresser to grab a pair of sweats. 

“My roommate wants to pick up.” Aemond hums walking over to you. You hand him a couple baggies and he sends you the money. You hand him an extra baggie for himself regardless of his protests. “You don’t have to.” he stuffs them into his bag. 

“I want to, almond.” his head snaps to you and sees your smirk. 

“Don’t start this right as I’m about to leave.” he flares his nostrils as he slings his bag over his shoulder. 

“Start what?” you tilt your head. He shakes his head and your hand slips into his as you lead him downstairs and out to his car. He pulls you against him and presses his lips to yours. 

“I will see you on Friday.” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Please drive safe and text me when you get there.” you press your lips to his once more. He gets in his car and you watch him as he backs out of the driveway. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

me vs saying two more parts again bc i already started pt4 and it won’t be the last chap that’s fs

ur fav flav taglist: @echos-muses @sinistersnakey @uwuuness

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

[fictional-reylin]

Class 1-A knows that their grumpy classmate hides something. Everything came to mind: drugs, alcohol, a crime scene even. But it’s neither of those, in fact, it’s not even something, it’s someone.

Longest one-shot I’ve ever written, I’m so proud of myself to have the energy to sit down and actually write this.

You are welcome to send requests/asks. Just make sure to read my rules.

Everyone in class 1-A knew, scratch that, everyone who set foot in UA knew that Bakugō Katsuki wasn’t someone who you could expect to be friendly. He never tried to hide that fact, and even so, when he started sneaking out early in the day after some time when they all moved to the dorms, it got more than a little suspicious. What was so important for him to do that he needed to get up at five and directly go out ?

At first, his classmates thought that he just decided to work out outside of his usual training. He wasn’t just screaming at everyone that he’ll be N1 just because. But the guys quickly noticed that he never showered after returning, never even touched his cologne, so that option quickly was cast away. And when some tried to ask him about, like Izuku, Kirishima or Mina, he dismissed them, saying that it wasn’t their business or that they were creeps for paying such close attention to him.

So here they were, sitting in the common room of their shared space, theorizing about the blond's whereabouts.

“Maybe he’s smoking early in the morning”

“Katchan ? No way, he hates smoking. And anything related to that…”

“Seriously ?” Mina asked surprised, “He looks like a smoker.”

“Maybe he’s getting blackmailed !”

“Kirishima… If there was blackmail involved, he’s the one blackmaili-”

Before Denki could finish, he felt a hard slap against the back of his head, making him fall from the couch with a loud thud. Everyone turned to look at a very angry Katsuki glaring at all of them.

“Why are you extras talking behind my back like some kind of creeps ?!”

None of them answered, instead deciding to go because they were “busy”. Smart move from all of them. And thankfully the blond didn’t expect an explanation from any of them, so with a huff, he went upstairs to his room. Letting his bag fall on the floor, he sat at his desk and began doing his homework like the nerd that he was. That is until a notification popped up on his phone and he read the message, a small smile creeping on his face.

[Name]

Hi !

I have an exam early in the morning, so how about you come in the evening ?

[Katsuki]

Sounds good

So there he was, getting ready to go out to see you at the time you both agreed to. As soon as Katsuki walked up to the exit door, everyone who was near turned to look at him with questioning stares and raised eyebrows in suspicion.

“Where are you going, Bakubro ?”

“None of your business”

With a slam of the door, he left the dorm. After that, everyone else was rapidly called to have a meeting like previously. Now the situation was even more weird, he never went out in the evenings, only in the early mornings.

“Maybe he’s holding someone hostage !” Shouted Denki

“Don’t be dumb, that’s impossible”

“Well, he sure is acting like he does…”

Everyone quieted down, thinking over the possibility. Their classmate was a bit aggressive, that was for sure, but kidnapping someone ? Surly not…

No one moved for a while, sitting in the quiet before rushing to Mr. Aizawa for some answers. After all, no one could walk out of the dorm for no reason, they moved here for safety after all. As Shōta was quietly sipping his coffee, he was startled by the teenage bunch that ran into his room, screaming and shouting questions that he didn’t even understand. With a furious red glare, he quickly shut them up.

“Bunch of savages. Iida, what is this all about ?”

With a bit of hesitation, the class president spoke:

“Well… Everyone is curious where Bakugō is heading every day. We aren’t allowed for no reason, after all.”

Shōta stared at them annoyed, turning his back to them. “It’s really none of your business, kids. But he is meeting with someone.”

“His hostage victim…” Someone whispered.

“What was that ?”

“Nothing teacher !”

And with that, the man was left alone again, confused in the major interest that everyone had for their blond classmate and his whereabouts.

With the new information, the bunch of teenagers, some of them paranoid, decided that the best course of action in this situation would be to send Tōru… to stalk Katsuki and figure out if he was really holding someone hostage. So, the next time he went out, she followed him discreetly, which wasn’t really all that difficult for her. The rest of the students waited patiently until they were all together again, with the exception of Katsuki of course, to discuss what she saw.

Everyone expected a serious discussion, but that was definitely not the case with the way she squealed in excitement and repeated “You’re not gonna believe this !” over and over again.

“Well not if you keep not telling us, come on spill it”

She took a breath and spoke, the huge grin could practically be heard on her face as she spoke the next few words. “Bakugō has a girlfriend”

A bunch “Huh ?” and “What ?!” erupted amongst the group. They were expecting everything from their classmate, literally anything, but not a girlfriend.

But everything quieted down once they saw their blond classmate marching towards the classroom, looking at him expectedly like he promised them some sort of gift. He scanned the classroom, annoyed at everyone’s stares.

“What is it, you extras ?”

Everybody had a silent agreement to let Katsuki be, it wasn’t really their business after all, and he didn’t own them any explanation, and they were sure he wouldn’t appreciate them being nosy. Everyone got the memo, except Denki.

“When were you going to introduce us to your sweetheart ?”

Aizawa came just in time because otherwise, Denki would be dead, probably. Everything steeled down, but Katsuki was still furious. He didn’t like them meddling in his personal business, especially when he wasn’t the only one involved in it. But oh well, at this point he was used to living with a bunch of dumbasses that believed in the magic of friendship.

At the end of class, everyone apologized and guessed that in hindsight, they really shouldn’t have jumped to such drastic conclusions. And Eijirō even apologized at the end of school.

“Sorry Bakubro, you were acting so mysterious, I really thought something was not okay”

The blond only let out a grumble in response, before turning his head opposite to the dorms. He looked back at his friend, still looking apologetic, before asking, “You wanna meet her ?”

“What ?”

“My girlfriend. Do you want to meet her ?”

He got a hell yeah in response as they both went towards your high school. It was weird for Katsuki, only his parents and yours knew, so this really was something different, like a step ahead into your relationship. It made him nervous.

They walked for about half an hour before they stopped near a high school, a bunch of students already heading home, or staying for a quick chat with their friends before parting ways. Bakugō scanned the sea of students, before his eyes landed on you. He called out to you, making you turn your head and smiling, before quickly walking up to him.

“Katsuki ! And… Kirishima ?”

Kirishima smiled and reached out to shake your hand. The fact that you knew his name, heck even recognized him, was making him all happy. He didn’t expect Katsuki to talk about his classmates, even less show photos of them.

“I’m [Name]. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah well, you’re meeting someone who thought I was a criminal” Bakugō said, swinging his arm around your shoulders.

Your eyes widened slightly, looking between your boyfriend and the redhead beside him, wearing a sheepish smile on his face. As the three of you walked towards your home, Katsuki explained the situation to you, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. Sure, your boyfriend was intimidating, but holding someone hostage ? He wouldn’t even have the patience to do that.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard !”

“Hey ! It’s not our fault ! Who is so secretive about having a partner anyway ?”

“Someone with brains and who likes their privacy” Bakugo retorted, before stopping dead in his tracks and looking down at you.

“Well, we’re gonna leave now, it’s getting late. Text me when you get home, okay ?”

With a hum, you kissed his cheek, waving him and his friend goodbye as you continued your walk. Bakugō turned to look at his friend, only to find him smiling at him proudly.

“What ?”

“You are truly a manly boyfriend man”

The pair returned to the dorm, the rest of the class already waiting for their arrival, as Kirishima texted them about their whereabouts earlier, expecting some sort of info about you and your relationship with him. He of course glared at all of them, told Kirishima to not spill a word and went to his room.

They then all turned to look at Kirishima, who was already in the centre of the living room, ready to spill the beans like Bakugō’s threat meant nothing to him. Everyone was asking questions about you, your personality, your looks, how you acted with Bakugō and vice versa.

“It doesn’t sound like Bakugō at all. Are you sure you went with him and not some clone ?”

“I’m telling you guys; he was so chill with her. He was about to smile a couple of times before remembering that I was there too.”

Even if the attitude of their classmate sounded foreign to them, they were all glad that he could be sweet at least with someone. Even if they didn’t get to see it, they hoped that with your influence, they wouldn’t need to sit through his constant shouting and threats of aggression.

Just as they were about to all head to their respective rooms, Kirishima got a notification from his phone. Reading through it, he smiled and held up his phone for everyone to see.

“She invited all of us for a hangout”

You on the other hand, you were giggling to yourself, proud that you could convince your boyfriend to give Eijirō’s number. You wanted to make an impression on all of his classmates and get a bit of revenge for getting into his business. And what a better way than to invite them all to a picnic, without informing it will take place in a haunted house ?

[Katsuki]

Did they agree ?

[Name]

Yeah. He said they all did.

I’m gonna have fun with this.

[Katsuki]

¥ 1000 if two of them cries

[Name]

Deal

Thank you so much for reading ! If you want to join in my daydream, consider checking out my navigation.

[ghostlyreader09]

The Crimson Threads: Part Two

aged up damain wayne x yn

hiii! i think i’ll keep with this series💛

The Batcave was still, as it always was. A hollow echo reverberated through the cavernous expanse, filled only by the low hum of monitors and the rhythmic tapping of fingers on keyboards. The glow of digital screens lit the faces of Gotham’s protectors, but the silence between them was thick, palpable—a tension that hung like a storm on the horizon. They had gathered here, in this dark sanctuary, trying to piece together the fragments of a puzzle that eluded them.

Damian stood apart, watching from the shadows, his presence more felt than seen. His arms were crossed tightly, his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body coiled with the same restless energy that had kept him on edge for weeks. He could feel their eyes on him, even if they said nothing. Alfred was the only one who didn’t seem to care for his silence, but even the older man’s usually comforting presence couldn’t soothe the knot that had settled in Damian’s chest.

“What do we know about her?” Bruce’s voice was low, measured, as it always was. The leader. The patriarch. But there was something different in his tone now. Concern. A subtle shift, barely perceptible, but unmistakable to those who had grown accustomed to reading his every mood.

“She’s elusive,” Tim Drake spoke up, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the keyboard, his eyes flicking between lines of code. “But that’s nothing new. Whoever she is, she knows how to stay hidden. She’s got a network of data wipes around her, almost like she’s actively erasing traces of herself.”

“Not just a criminal,” Damian muttered, his voice edged with frustration. He could hear the soft clicks of the Batcomputer as Tim continued his work. “She’s a ghost. A shadow that slips through the cracks.”

“I’ve encountered her,” Bruce said, his eyes dark with a hint of the same frustration Damian felt. “She has a strange ability to heal, yes. But we’ve only seen what she does from a distance. Her powers—there’s something more to them. I need to know what.”

“Her name is Sanguis,” Damian interjected, his voice tight as he took a step into the circle of light. “And she’s more than just a healer. I’ve seen it in her eyes—the way she takes from people. The way she absorbs their wounds. I don’t think she’s just fixing them. She’s using them.”

The room fell silent. The weight of his words hung in the air like a fog, thickening the already suffocating atmosphere of the Batcave.

“Wait,” Jason Todd, the ever-impulsive second son of the Bat, spoke up from across the room, his arms folded, leaning against the wall in that way he always did. “You’re telling me she takes on their pain? She absorbs it? That sounds like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.”

Damian’s eyes flickered to Jason, a brief flash of something darker crossing his features. “It’s not a bomb. It’s… more controlled. Calculated. But the fact remains that she’s hiding something.”

“Could be the price of her ability,” Tim suggested, his voice soft as his fingers danced over the keys, searching for answers that didn’t seem to exist. “Not a lot of data, but there’s been mention of people she’s healed—victims of accidents or injuries. The reports are conflicting. Some say they just walked away, fully healed. But others… there are no records. No follow-up. No sign of them ever being seen again.”

“Or they’ve been taken,” Damian murmured, his thoughts racing. He could feel the puzzle pieces clicking together in his mind, but none of them fit. The weight of the mystery was pressing down on him, heavy and suffocating.

“And she never stays around long enough to talk,” Bruce said with a deep sigh. “She disappears before anyone can ask questions.”

There was a brief pause, a pregnant silence that seemed to stretch on forever. In the quiet, Damian felt a flicker of something—a memory, perhaps. Something that had been gnawing at him for weeks. He saw her face in his mind—her dark, unreadable eyes. The fleeting moment when her touch had pulled the pain from his body, the agonizing sensation of his wounds closing and her own taking their place.

She had healed him. He had felt the exchange—couldn’t deny it now. But what had it cost her?

“What if she’s not… evil?” he asked, his voice quieter than before, as if testing the words in the air. The shift in tone was subtle, but unmistakable. He had never voiced such a thought aloud. It was dangerous to even entertain it.

Bruce’s gaze flickered to him, sharp and calculating, as though the words themselves were a betrayal of everything they stood for. But instead of reprimanding him, he merely tilted his head, considering. “You’re suggesting she’s… what? A vigilante?”

“I don’t know,” Damian admitted, his voice low. “But she’s doing something more than what we’ve seen. She’s healing—yes. But there’s something about her… something beneath it. She’s not like us. But that doesn’t make her a villain.”

Tim, still absorbed in his search, sighed heavily. “I wish it were that simple. She’s not giving us much to go on. Whatever she’s doing, she’s keeping her identity locked down tight. Almost like she’s afraid of being discovered.”

“Afraid of being found,” Damian corrected, his gaze distant, as if seeing something none of the others could. “Not just discovered. She’s hiding something more than just a name.”

Alfred, who had remained silent through the exchange, stepped forward, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. “Master Damian is correct in his assumption. But I believe there’s more to Miss Sanguis than mere fear or secrecy.”

“Then what is it, Alfred?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s her game?”

Alfred’s gaze flickered to the darkened corners of the cave, as if he were searching for something that wasn’t there. “Perhaps it’s not a game at all. Perhaps she is… something else. Something different.” He paused, his voice softening. “We are all bound by the cost of our choices. Some of us carry our burdens in ways that are visible to the world. And some, like her, bear them in silence.”

Damian’s thoughts stirred, the weight of those words settling in his chest like a stone. Was she truly carrying something heavier than any of them could understand? Was she paying a price for her healing that none of them could even fathom?

The room fell quiet again, each of them caught in their own contemplation. There were no answers yet. No clear path forward.

Finally, Bruce broke the silence. “We need more information. Keep an eye on her. Track her movements, Tim. And Damian,” he turned his gaze to his son, the unspoken weight of expectation between them, “I want you to stay focused. We don’t know if she’s a friend or foe. But we’ll find out.”

Damian nodded, but something in his chest tightened. His father’s orders had always been clear-cut, but this was different. This wasn’t just a mission. Not anymore. Something inside him, something fragile, something unspoken, had begun to change.

————

The next night, as the moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over Gotham, Damian found himself watching from the rooftops once again. His gaze swept over the streets, the alleys, the quiet places where shadows lived.

And there she was—Sanguis.

She moved through the streets like a wraith, her cloak trailing behind her, her every step graceful and unhurried. She didn’t see him, not yet, but he was watching—watching her as she healed, as she touched the broken bodies of those who had been torn apart by Gotham’s cruelty.

Her power was a strange and wondrous thing, and he could feel it even from a distance—the way she moved, the way she shifted the very essence of life within the bodies she touched. She wasn’t just a healer. No, that was too simple.

She was a keeper of souls, a silent guardian who traded her own strength to save others.

Damian’s fingers clenched at his sides. This city didn’t need another shadow in the night. But maybe, just maybe, it needed someone who could walk between the light and the darkness. And for the first time, he wondered if he was the one who had misunderstood her.

—————

The night wrapped itself tighter around Gotham as if the city itself were waiting for something. Damian perched silently atop a gargoyle overlooking a dim-lit alley, his eyes tracing the winding path below, where Sanguis had just appeared. The flicker of her silhouette was familiar by now, a shadow within shadows, and every time he saw her, the tension within him grew.

Tonight, he didn’t follow her immediately. He wanted to observe, to understand without moving, without the pressure of confrontation. For the first time, he wasn’t chasing her like prey, as he had done in the past. Instead, he was waiting for something—some crack in her armor that would reveal the truth. Her power was undeniable, and yet he couldn’t reconcile the idea of her as a threat, a mere villain in the shadows. No, there was something more to her.

She had to be more.

Damian leaned forward slightly, letting the cool breeze of Gotham wash over him, but his eyes never left her. The way she moved through the alley, that quiet grace, the fluidity of her steps—they didn’t belong in Gotham. They felt like they belonged to another time, another world, one where healing and pain weren’t bound by the same rules as the harsh city streets.

There’s something about her.

She stopped in front of an abandoned building, kneeling beside a man who lay prone, his face contorted in pain, blood staining the pavement. Damian could tell from here that the man had been injured in a violent attack—his body was broken, his breath labored.

But as always, Sanguis didn’t hesitate. She simply knelt beside him, her hands glowing faintly in the darkness. A soft hum seemed to vibrate in the air as her fingers moved over the man’s chest, his body slowly beginning to mend beneath her touch. She was absorbed in the work, oblivious to the world around her. The man’s breathing evened out as his injuries closed, his pulse stabilizing. It was like watching a miracle unfold, but as always, Damian’s sharp eyes saw the cost.

Her hands trembled slightly as the blood began to settle, as if it had taken something more than just the injury from the man. Her face, normally calm and unreadable, showed the faintest flicker of strain.

There it is again.

The odd sensation—the way she never seemed to just heal. She was taking something from the world around her. Absorbing it.

Damian could feel his pulse quicken. He wanted to rush down, confront her, demand answers, but he didn’t. Not yet. Something in him had changed over the past few weeks. This wasn’t the same cold pursuit, the same bitterness that had once fueled him. No, now he had questions—questions that were pushing him in directions he didn’t want to go.

As she finished with the man, standing slowly, she turned her face upward, as if sensing the eyes that were watching her. Her gaze swept over the rooftops, briefly settling on his position, but she didn’t react. No surprise. No fear.

She knows.

For the first time, Damian felt exposed. The battle wasn’t just about his identity anymore. It was about something much deeper, something tangled in the spaces between their secrets.

Her voice broke the silence, quiet, almost a whisper that was carried away by the wind. “You’re here again.”

Damian didn’t move. He stayed where he was, his gaze never leaving her. “You’re hard to track.”

“And you’re predictable,” she replied smoothly, the hint of a smirk in her voice. “Your shadows follow you too closely.”

He felt his lips tighten at her words, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Why do you do it? Heal them. Take their wounds. What’s the point?”

Her eyes met his, dark as the night itself, but there was something new there—a flicker of something that Damian couldn’t quite place. Was it… pity? Or something softer? She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the man at her feet, who was now stumbling away, looking dazed but unharmed.

“The point?” She repeated, almost as if the word were foreign to her. “You think I do this for a reason? Because I’m some kind of hero?”

“Are you?” Damian asked, his voice steady, but his mind was racing. He wanted to understand. Needed to.

Her lips parted, then pressed together as if the words were too sharp to speak. “I do it because I can. Because I have no other choice.”

There was a crack in her voice—barely perceptible, but there nonetheless. It unsettled him more than anything she had ever said.

“Choices…” Damian echoed, taking a step toward her. His feet moved of their own accord now, drawn to the vulnerability in her words, to the soft, aching truth that seemed to seep out when she least expected it. “What makes you think you don’t have one? You don’t have to—”

“I don’t have a choice,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly harsh. Her fists clenched by her sides as if her own words caused her physical pain. “This power—this curse, I can’t escape it. If I stop healing them, if I stop taking their injuries, I don’t know what will happen to me.”

Damian felt the breath catch in his chest. A curse?

The thought lingered between them like a thread, fragile and delicate, but no less real. Her face softened then, as if the anger had burned itself out, leaving only the exhaustion behind.

“I don’t do this for glory,” she continued, her voice quieter now, the weight of her words pressing down like a fog. “I do it because I have to. Because if I don’t, I don’t know who else will.”

Damian’s gaze softened. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way the shadows seemed to part around her, revealing the raw, aching truth she had been trying so hard to hide. Maybe it was the way she stood there, alone in the heart of Gotham, carrying the weight of others’ pain as her own.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the world around them seeming to hold its breath.

Damian’s voice was barely more than a whisper when he spoke again. “That doesn’t make you weak. You know that, right?”

Her eyes flickered toward him, the barest trace of something—hope?—in them before she looked away again, her gaze fixed firmly on the pavement below.

“I’m not looking for anyone’s approval,” she said softly. “I’m just trying to survive.”

Damian didn’t know what to say to that. How could he? He had spent his life surrounded by people who fought because they had to—because Gotham had demanded it. But this was different. She wasn’t just fighting the city; she was fighting herself.

A faint memory crossed his mind then—the first time he had encountered pain that wasn’t his own. The first time he had been forced to watch someone else bleed for a cause that was beyond him. It had felt like a betrayal. A mistake.

But as he watched Sanguis, standing there in the moonlight, her power both a gift and a curse, he began to understand. She had never had a choice.

And for the first time, Damian didn’t know if he wanted to stop her—or if he wanted to help her.

————

Bruce, Tim, and Alfred were in their usual positions, scanning through data, as they always did. But Damian’s eyes were distant. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—about the weight of her words, the way she had felt when she stood in front of him, the way her power had pulsed against him, as if there was something more to it than just healing.

But he wasn’t about to say anything—not yet. He wasn’t sure what it meant, what he was feeling. All he knew was that he had to keep watching her.

Because there was still so much she wasn’t telling him. Something that he had to know.

thank you!!!! any recommendations or ideas for this story is greatly appreciated, and i do take requests! 💕💕💕

sanguis is latin for life-blood and might

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen the ‘Bruce brought dick in to stop him killing Zucco” is fun

You know what’s more fun

The fact that Dick Grayson is the fundamental opposite of Jokers one bad day

Because he was 9 and insane

Jokers “all it takes is one bad day” meet Dick Grayson also terminally insane but in the opposite direction.

(“I had a bad day not a fan, it’s illegal now”

“Chum murder is already illegal”

“Yeah in the eyes of the law, but who follows that! I’ve decided it’s illegal for people to have bad days”

“You have to follow laws Dick. You have to”

“Says the man getting shot at by the cops bc he dresses as a giant bat monster and fights crime using ancient martial arts”

“Hnnng”

“Anyway it’s illegal now, people suffering I have decided and I’m adorable so what I say goes!”

Bruce pinching bridge of nose “Dick you can’t save everyone and change every person you meets life”

“How about! No!”

“Di-“

“Great talk Bruce! Bye bye now!”)

Like when I say Dick Grayson was the crazy Robin I don’t mean he was aggressive or cruel

No I mean this man would not be out of place in Lewis Carol’s Alice in wonderland.

He’d see all the insane shit in Gotham and go ‘that makes perfect sense’ and continue on his merry way

Like he’s the type of kid who when he’s mad at Bruce for sidelining him on a fight against the joker (and making him fight Harley)

Will pull out a chessboard, grab Harley Quinn and go “I win, you get arkhamed you win we fight”

“Kid-“

“I have a gymnastics competition coming up and I wanna show up this douche in my class- you are not breaking my legs before then. Sit down. Play chess”

“Shit kid why didncha say so”

Why does he wanna fight the Joker who will objectively injure him far more throughly

“Well it’s simple math, I grew up in a circus, I like clowns, he is the biggest disgrace to clownery I’ve ever seen bet he didn’t even go to clown college. Doesn’t even have any iconic makeup, he just has toxic waste skin?? Like not even eye makeup or a red nose?? If you wanna do thematic crime do it right? Anyway it’s my legal obligation to try at any given moment to reck the embarrassment to all things goofy and funs shit.”

—————

Bruce looking for his 9 year old ward who was kidnapped as Robin

Dick hanging upside down on semi sentient vine gesturing wildly at poison Ivy who is nodding empathically

“And the water here is not normal!! Like how do you grow plants! I used to have to take care of plants all the time and now if I water them they rot! Like right in front of me!!? And I feel so bad but?? It’s water?? Please drink it?? Mr plant”

“Oh yeah it’s because of all the toxic ace chemicals in the water, you have to triple filter it. Honestly Robin I’m disappointed, your plants should be drinking the same water as you”

“ they do tho!”

“You…drink… Gotham tap water? Batman lets you drink Gotham tap water?”

“Well no… he always tells me to use the filter but I like the tap water!! Sometimes it’s fun colors and spicy”

“oh… oh that explains so much about you..”

“No he just came like that.”

“Oh HI B I was asking miss Dr.ivy why my plants keep dying”

“Robin don’t consort with villains”

“Miss Dr. Ivy you’re a doctor right”

Poison Ivy who is violently amused “PHD not MD but yeah I am”

“So you’re smart”

“Yeasss”

“Cool!…. What does consort mean?”

————-

Annoys the riddler by going with the most out of pocket technically true answer

Think “a sparrow with a shotgun”

———-

Makes the Jokers goons laugh, louder than the joker. Even while under threats of death by sufficiently wacky murder plot

———-

[simpxmachina]

NEW BOT

╰┈➤ wlw red panda , botmaker

🔪 + 🫀 = ☆ bloodthirsty ☆

cai

🎬 aubrey plaza - ‘NEPO-WIFE ?’

The evening was suffocatingly familiar. Aubrey stood in the hotel’s extravagant hallway, gazing out at the city skyline. The lights below twinkled like far-off stars, and yet all she could feel was the thrum of anxiety under her skin. Another event, another evening of being paraded out for the world to see, her every move scrutinized. And in that moment, she wished she could just disappear into the air—slip through the cracks of the red carpet and vanish.

But she couldn’t. Not with all the cameras, not with the eyes that followed her every movement. It didn’t help that tonight, she wasn’t standing alone.

"Hey," came your voice from behind her, soft and steady. You had that way of cutting through her fog of irritation, your presence like an anchor in a storm of flashing lights. Aubrey didn’t have to turn around to know you were standing there—she could feel you, your warmth, your steady energy. You, with your elegant, composed presence, the world at your fingertips, and the family legacy that made it all so easy for you.

But she wasn’t here to complain. Not yet. She would save that for later.

When she finally turned to face you, she caught the glint of your eyes—the same eyes that could pierce through her sarcastic veneer. You were wearing that calm, collected look, the one you always wore at these events. You were practically glowing in your tailored dress, a contrast to Aubrey’s unpolished and understated outfit that clung to her awkwardly, as always.

"Is it too late to back out?" Aubrey asked, deadpan, one eyebrow raised. She was never one to mince words. "I mean, who needs another ‘self-made girl’ on a red carpet? I’m pretty sure we’ve got enough of those already."

You laughed—your genuine laugh that Aubrey could always pick out from the crowd, the one that made her feel like maybe there was still something good left in this charade.

"Trust me, I’ve been trying to get you to ditch this thing for days," you said, stepping toward her, your fingers brushing the fabric of her gown. "But you know how it is. You’ve got to put on the show. Keep up appearances."

Aubrey’s lips twisted into a half-smirk. "Appearances. Yeah, that’s my specialty."

There was a brief moment of silence before you spoke again, a little softer this time. "You know they’re all watching us, right?"

Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I’m aware," she muttered. "I’m sure they’ll make some snide comment about how different we are—how we don’t belong together. Maybe I should just wave a flag that says ‘Look, we’re the most unlikely pair ever.’ That’ll be fun."

You reached up, placing a hand on her cheek, your touch gentle. "You know they’ll say whatever they want. But they don’t know us. We don’t need them to."

She sighed heavily, leaning into your touch for a moment, but quickly pulled away, as though she couldn’t allow herself to be too soft. "I know, I know," she muttered, turning her gaze back to the skyline. "But it’s just... annoying, you know? The way they only focus on how different we are. They can’t look at us and see anything but this weird mismatch of ‘privilege’ and ‘self-made,’ and they think that’s the whole story. It’s exhausting."

You smiled, as you always did, like you could sense the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. "Who cares what they think? You’re you, and I’m me, and that’s why I love you."

Aubrey turned her head slowly, looking at you with a small, almost vulnerable smile. "Yeah, well, sometimes I wonder if you know what you're getting into with me."

"You’re lucky I’m a glutton for punishment," you teased, tilting your head. "But honestly, I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care if they think we’re mismatched. I care that I’m with you, that I chose you. That’s what matters."

Aubrey smiled, a little less dry, a little less sarcastic. "Yeah, I guess that’s the most important thing. But it still bothers me when they talk about us like we’re some kind of circus act. You, with your big family legacy and perfect smile. And me... with my weird sense of humor and dry sarcasm. I mean, who wouldn’t wonder how that works?"

"You’re different, Aubrey," you said, taking her hand and squeezing it firmly. "And that’s what makes you perfect. We’re not a circus act. We’re just... us. And that’s all that matters."

---

The red carpet was as predictably absurd as it always was. The sea of flashing lights, the intrusive questions, the endless waves of publicists and photographers—all of it felt like a slow, grinding march. But this time, Aubrey tried to drown it out, to focus on you. Your presence beside her was a lifeline, even when the journalists turned their attention toward her.

"So, Aubrey," a reporter called, leaning in with a microphone in hand. "You've made a name for yourself as a very... unique presence in Hollywood. And of course, you're married to y/n, who comes from such a well-known family. Do you think that your relationship has ever put you under a different kind of microscope? The kind that focuses on your differences?"

Aubrey’s lips twitched upward in that signature, deadpan way. She glanced at you, noticing the way you stood a little straighter, like you were preparing to shield her. "Oh, sure," she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I’m sure they’ll get all worked up about how I’m not the perfect ‘nepo wife’ they expected. I’m so out of my depth here."

The journalist didn’t pick up on her sarcasm, as usual. "But seriously, Aubrey, do you ever feel the pressure of being married to someone with such a powerful legacy? Do the comparisons ever get to you?"

Aubrey’s expression remained unchanged, though there was a brief flicker of something—irritation, maybe—behind her eyes. She was so used to these questions, so tired of them. And yet, she played the game with the kind of dry humor that had earned her a loyal fanbase.

"Look," Aubrey said, turning toward the reporter with a wry smile. "I didn’t marry y/n for the family name. If I wanted to marry into money and power, I would’ve chosen a billionaire. But here we are, still going strong, and that’s all that matters."

You laughed beside her, but the smile didn’t quite reach Aubrey’s eyes. You could see it—the slight tightening of her jaw, the way she didn’t let herself truly relax, even in the midst of a playful comment. Aubrey Plaza might pretend she didn’t care about the opinions of others, but you both knew the truth.

In public, she would never admit it. But in the quiet of their private moments, away from the cameras, she would sigh, lean against the wall, and mutter, "I hate that they keep bringing it up. They don't get it. We’re not a 'mismatch.' We're just... us."

You always knew what to say, though. You would wrap your arms around her, gently kissing the top of her head. "I get it. And I love you for it."

---

Later that night, when the flashes finally stopped and the event was over, the two of you retreated back to your hotel room. The exhaustion of the evening hung heavily in the air. Aubrey didn’t even bother to take off her gown right away. She collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, her fingers twitching idly by her side.

"Did you hear what they said about us today?" she asked, her voice flat. "The ‘privilege’ and ‘hard work’ narrative... I swear, it’s like they don’t care about anything real. It’s all just surface-level crap."

You climbed onto the bed beside her, leaning on your elbow to look at her. "Aubrey, I’m not going anywhere. I chose you, and nothing anyone says changes that."

Aubrey’s lips twisted in that familiar, dry smile, but there was something softer in it now. "Yeah, I know. I just wish people would stop treating us like we're part of some goddamn zoo."

"Who cares about them? You’re my world, Aubrey. No one else matters."

In that moment, with the lights of the city still flickering outside and the world far, far away, Aubrey let out a long sigh, finally relaxing into the comfort of your arms.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I guess you’re right. I just wish it didn’t make me feel so... weird."

And for the first time that night, Aubrey allowed herself to drift into the quiet safety of your love, away from the spotlight and the noise, knowing that no matter how many cameras flashed or how many critical voices rose, she could always count on you to be her anchor, her support. In your arms, there was no judgment, no expectations—just the simple, steady beat of two hearts who had found their rhythm amidst the chaos.

But it wasn't over, it never was.

Long days—press tours, meetings, photoshoots. The usual whirlwind that came with being in the spotlight. You knew the routine by now, but today it felt different. Aubrey was quieter than usual, her sarcasm less biting, her usual dry humor subdued. You noticed it immediately, and it gnawed at you, a feeling in your gut that wouldn’t settle.

You and Aubrey had built something together over the past four years—something that others could never quite understand. She had earned every bit of her career, every inch of respect, while you, despite your best efforts to separate yourself from your family’s influence, were always seen as the “privileged one.” The “nepo baby,” they called you. And the contrast between you two—her rawness, her authenticity, her self-made success; and your polished, well-maintained image, always tethered to your powerful family—was something people always seemed to focus on.

You had tried to ignore it, at least outwardly. But tonight, in the dimly lit apartment you shared with Aubrey, it couldn’t be ignored. She looked tired, not just from the long day, but from something deeper. Something heavier.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked gently, noticing her staring blankly at her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen without purpose.

Aubrey looked up, her sharp gaze meeting yours, but her expression was unreadable. The easy sarcasm was gone. "What’s there to talk about?" she muttered, dropping the phone on the couch. "Just another day of pretending everything’s fine."

You swallowed, biting back the urge to remind her that she was the one who always said she didn’t care about what people thought. You’d spent enough time in the public eye yourself to know that there was always a kernel of truth behind those words. And despite what she projected, Aubrey did care. She cared about the scrutiny, the constant comparisons, the way her career had somehow become secondary in the public eye.

You shifted closer to her on the couch, careful not to invade her space but unwilling to let her retreat into herself entirely. "It’s not like you to be this quiet," you said softly, trying to keep the mood light. "Not even a single snarky comment about how I burned dinner last night?"

Aubrey’s lips twitched in what could have been a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "It’s not about dinner. It’s about this... circus. All of it."

She gestured vaguely toward her phone, but you knew what she meant. The press tour. The interviews. The countless articles dissecting every detail of your marriage. And the most recent headline that had likely set her off: "Aubrey Plaza, the Wife of Hollywood's Golden Girl."

It wasn’t the first time her name had been reduced to a footnote, a descriptor attached to yours. But it never got easier for her.

"I’ve worked my ass off for years," Aubrey said, her voice low and steady, but there was an edge to it, a rawness that made you hold your breath. "I’ve done indie films no one thought would succeed. I’ve fought for roles, dealt with rejection after rejection, clawed my way into this industry. And now, suddenly, I’m not Aubrey Plaza anymore. I’m your wife. Like that’s all I am."

Her words hung in the air like a weight, and you didn’t know how to respond. Because the truth was, you had seen it happening too. The way her accomplishments were overshadowed, the way interviews that were supposed to be about her projects turned into questions about your relationship. You hated it as much as she did, but you hadn’t known how deeply it had affected her. Until now.

"You’re not just my wife," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "You’re so much more than that. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to talk about you."

Aubrey scoffed, but there was no real humor in it. "Tell that to the reporters who only want to ask me what it’s like being married to you. Or the producers who suddenly think I’m only relevant because of your last name. It’s like everything I’ve worked for means nothing now."

You reached for her hand, but she pulled away, standing up and pacing the room. "Do you know how humiliating it is to have people act like I’ve coasted into success because of you? Like I didn’t do anything before we got together? I love you, but sometimes... sometimes it feels like I’m losing myself in this."

Her honesty cut you to the core, but you couldn’t blame her. How could you? She wasn’t wrong. And yet, hearing her say it out loud felt like a blow you hadn’t been prepared for.

"I didn’t ask for this either," you said, standing up to face her. "I didn’t ask to be born into this family or to have every move I make scrutinized. And I sure as hell didn’t ask for my relationship with you to be turned into some kind of spectacle."

Aubrey stopped pacing, her arms dropping to her sides as she looked at you, her eyes softening just slightly. "I know you didn’t," she said quietly. "And I’m not blaming you. I just... I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. It’s like no matter what I do, I can’t escape it."

The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind that threatened to break you apart. It was the kind that made you lean in, made you fight harder to understand each other. You stepped closer to her, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to gently touch her arm.

"You’ve always been more than enough," you said softly. "Before we were together, before anyone even knew my name, you were already a force to be reckoned with. That hasn’t changed, Aubrey. And it never will."

She sighed, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she let you pull her into a hug. She rested her head against your shoulder, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fade. But you knew it wasn’t gone. Not completely.

"I just wish people could see me for who I am," she murmured, her voice muffled against your skin. "Not just as some extension of you."

You tightened your arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "They will," you promised. "We’ll make them see. Together."

And in that moment, as the two of you stood there in the quiet of your apartment, you knew that no matter how many headlines tried to define your relationship, no matter how many whispers tried to reduce Aubrey to just your wife, the truth of who she was—and who you were together—was something no one could take away.

But the internet never thinks like that.

The internet had turned into a battlefield again, and you were the primary casualty. Pictures of you and Aubrey walking out of a luxury boutique were plastered across every social media platform, accompanied by wild, baseless assumptions.

One particular photo had gone viral: you standing still, clearly mid-conversation, while Aubrey carried two bags in her hands. The truth was that you’d twisted your ankle on the way out and had stopped to catch your breath while Aubrey, ever practical, had grabbed your things to keep the line moving. But the internet didn’t want the truth. It wanted a story.

There were three camps now. The first claimed that Aubrey Plaza deserved better than a spoiled “nepo baby” who made her carry shopping bags like a servant. The second argued you deserved better, painting Aubrey as a gold-digger exploiting your wealth. The third defended your relationship, posting clips and interviews to show how much love you shared.

The third group was small.

And no matter how many times you tried to ignore it, the hate had crawled under your skin, festering in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

By the time you walked into the convention hall for a Q&A about your new series, you were already simmering beneath the surface. You’d perfected the art of smiling through discomfort, of keeping your golden-girl persona intact, but today felt harder than usual.

The panel started smoothly enough. The moderator asked you about your role, the challenges you faced during filming, and your experience working with the cast. You answered every question thoughtfully, earning laughs and applause from the audience.

Then came the inevitable question.

“So,” the interviewer began, leaning forward with a too-familiar smirk, “do you think your family name helped you land this role?”

The room went quiet for a moment. You didn’t flinch; you’d been asked this question a dozen times before.

You smiled politely, your voice steady. “I’d like to think that my work is enough to prove that I made it on my own, but I’m not blind to the fact that my name carries a lot of weight. I can’t deny my privilege. That being said, I hope to continue earning roles because of my talent, not my last name.”

The audience murmured, a mix of admiration and skepticism. You’d expected as much.

But then a microphone made its way to a member of the audience, a man who seemed far too eager to speak. His tone was mocking, his body language confrontational.

“Speaking of privilege,” he began, a smirk curling his lips, “do you think your wife is what people are calling her now? You know—a ‘nepo-trophy-wife’? Seems like she’s benefitting a lot from being with you.”

The words hit you like a slap, and the audience gasped collectively. The interviewer looked uncomfortable, clearly unsure whether to intervene.

You felt your chest tighten, the simmering anger from earlier now boiling over. You leaned forward, gripping the microphone tightly.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you asked, your voice deceptively calm.

The man, emboldened by the attention, shrugged. “I mean, she’s clearly riding your coattails. It’s not like anyone was talking about her before you two got together.”

A hush fell over the room. The interviewer looked like they wanted to sink into the floor, but you didn’t give them the chance to redirect.

“Aubrey Plaza,” you said, your tone icy but controlled, “has been in this industry far longer than I have. She’s been in critically acclaimed films and shows—some of which you’ve probably seen, considering you know her name well enough to make an opinion about her.”

The man started to interrupt, but you cut him off.

“And let’s be very clear,” you continued, your voice rising slightly, “if anyone in this relationship is riding coattails, it’s me. I’m the one who should be called a ‘nepo-trophy-wife.’ Aubrey has worked her ass off for everything she has. She’s an incredible actress, and the fact that you think you have the right to reduce her career to her relationship with me says more about your ignorance than it does about her.”

The audience broke into applause, but you barely heard it. You handed the microphone back to the moderator, sitting stiffly as the panel moved on.

---

When you got home that evening, your stomach was still in knots. You didn’t regret defending Aubrey—not for a second—but you knew the fallout was inevitable. You could already hear the headlines: Golden Girl Goes Off! or Y/n Shows Spoiled, Bratty Side!

You dropped your bag on the kitchen counter and sighed, rubbing your temples. Aubrey’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Quite the show you put on,” she said, stepping out from the living room with her phone in hand. She was smirking, but her eyes held something softer, something warmer.

You froze. “You saw it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You kidding? It’s all over the internet. ‘Golden Girl Defends Wife with Fiery Speech.’ You’re trending.”

You groaned, sinking onto the couch. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Aubrey sat beside you, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Hey,” she said, nudging your shoulder, “you were amazing.”

You turned to look at her, surprised. “Really? Because I feel like I just painted a target on both of our backs.”

Aubrey shook her head, her dark eyes shining. “Let them talk. You know what I care about? That my wife—the golden girl, the internet’s sweetheart—stood up for me. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. And it was... really hot, actually.”

You laughed despite yourself, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit. “Hot, huh?”

“Extremely,” she said, leaning closer. “There’s nothing more attractive than you telling the world to screw off because you love me.”

You felt your cheeks flush, and before you could respond, Aubrey kissed you. It wasn’t a soft, sweet kiss—it was firm, passionate, full of everything she couldn’t put into words.

When she pulled back, she was grinning, her usual dry humor creeping back into her tone. “So, do I need to start calling you my publicist now? Or are you sticking with ‘wife’?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning into her. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” she teased, wrapping an arm around you.

The internet could say whatever it wanted. In this moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way Aubrey looked at you—as if you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

this might be my favorite, just fed my delulu self <3

[elspethdekarios]

Atonement

Hello fellow Solavellan sufferers!!! I've written a little fic about what I imagine goes down between Solas and Lavellan once the game is over. I'll have you know I listened to the Lost Elf Theme on repeat while writing it, if that tells you anything. Anyway, read below the cut or on AO3 here!

SFW, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,821

! HUGE VEILGUARD SPOILERS !

When she stepped into the Fade, hand in hand with her love, Sulah had no preconceived notion of what to expect on the other side, nor did she spend a moment speculating about what it could possibly be. She was with Solas, after all, and there was no use in trying to predict his actions. It was funny, really—how she found him predictable and surprising all in the same. No, there was little use trying to guess where in the Fade he would lead them. Nonetheless, she wasn't sure she would have ever expected this.

The pocket of the Fade they walked into was dull and gray as stone. In fact, most of it was stone. Fragments of buildings and debris floated slowly through the foggy sky above. Tendrils of winding roots grew up through cracks in the stone. There were staircases that seemed to lead to nowhere, and twisted, barren trees clinging to broken columns and walls. The air was so still it felt stifling in Sulah’s lungs. And Solas, downtrodden and bruised, looked like he belonged there. Like he was part of the backdrop. As if he could hear her thoughts, he spoke.

“It is a reflection of what I am. What I don't want to be.” He paused, dropping his head. “What I don't want to face.”

“This is how you atone?”

“I told you it would be terrible.”

“And I told you forever.” Sulah turned to him, heart aching for the bloodied mess of his face. “I meant it.”

Solas lifted his head enough to look at her through glassy, violet eyes. “I don’t deserve you, vhenan.”

“I think that’s up to me,” she said, wiping away a stray tear on his cheek. “Let’s talk, my love. Before you start making your amends.”

They sat with their backs against a nearby stone wall. Solas’s eyes alternated between being heavy with sleep and haunting despair. He looked so much older than she remembered him—not physically, really, but in the way he seemed to be held down with millennia of burden. On the other hand, he had the heartbreaking demeanor of a child unable to emotionally grasp the multitude of his feelings.

“I don’t know… where to start,” he breathed. With one look at her, a hint of hope glimmered amongst the sadness in his eyes. “I have missed you. Desperately so.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Sulah’s voice cracked as she spoke, a stream of tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She brushed them away and smiled sadly. “So let’s start there, shall we?”

His kiss tasted of salt and metal. She didn’t care about the wounds on his face or the small gash on his lip still swelling with blood. It had been a decade since she tasted him, touched him, spoke to him. Even though she knew he visited in her dreams, he never made contact—only watched, a dark figure in the distance. How she longed to reach out for him every time, to pull him close and find solace in his arms like she used to. Sulah crawled in front of him, her knees aching as they pressed into the cold stone, and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a brief hesitation, Solas rested his hands on her waist, his touch timid at first, like he was afraid of doing something wrong. But his touch grew more confident by the second, and soon his arms were wrapped around her so tight she could barely breathe. It felt as if a missing piece of her heart had been restored, held in place by molten gold.

“I don’t know that I can possibly tell you all of it. Perhaps I could… show you, instead.” With a single thought, Solas willed into the Fade a blue crystal statuette of a wolf, not unlike the one Sulah found when his ritual failed. He held it, concentrated on it, and its core radiated bright blue magic. He held the figure out to her. As Sulah took it from him, their destitute surroundings swirled and dissolved, leaving her in front of a young Solas. His face was not quite so worn with pain and exhaustion like the one she knew. Long, auburn hair cascaded down the center of his head, falling over his shoulder as he turned to face the other elf in front of him.

“Solas, how could you?” the other elf asked. His skin was tan, his hair was dark, and his face was marked with Mythal’s branching vallaslin. The same branches that Sulah had tattooed underneath her eyes.

“I do not expect you to understand, Felassan,” Solas said, standing tall and proud as ever. “It was necessary for the enemy to believe we were committed. A heavy sacrifice, but one that gave us a real chance to end the war.”

“You knowingly sent those spirits to their deaths!” Felassan shouted. “We’re supposed to be better than this.”

Felassan spoke to Solas with the intimacy and confidence of a close friend, unafraid to confront his wrongdoings. Sulah could make out a hint of remorse in Solas’s eyes before his face hardened into a scowl.

“I did what had to be done.”

The scene dissipated. Ruins were replaced with the glorious landscape of ancient Arlathan, sprawling greenery among grand, floating palaces. Solas argued with an elven woman who Sulah now recognized as Mythal. She was identical to the spirit fragment she had seen before stepping into the Fade with Solas, only solid and real. The words they spoke were jumbled, as if Solas couldn’t remember the exact things said when he transferred the memory to the statue, but Sulah knew what they were discussing all the same: the Blight. Solas protested, pleaded with Mythal, before finally giving in to her demands.

“I will follow you always,” he said. Sulah had never heard him sound so defeated. A distinct and overwhelming sense of shame settled over her as the scene faded.

The memories continued like this, one after the other, each one brief but enough to show her the actions that haunted him. And enough to leave her with thousands of questions. She saw his regrets from centuries ago—memories of Mythal, Elgern’an, Ghilan’nain, the other Evanuris. She saw him destroy the legacy of the titans, and the corruption that introduced the Blight to the world. She saw his sorrow at the creation of the Veil, the loss of the world he knew, the unbreakable tether he had to Mythal, similar to a commandeering mother and a child eager to please her, desperate for her approval. She saw his plans to give Corypheus the orb go awry, the conflict raging inside of him as he fell in love with Sulah, the way he almost told her the truth that night in Crestwood. She felt the guilt he carried afterwards—that he still carried. She saw him devise his devious plan to mold Rook into someone the prison would take in his place. His betrayal and desperation.

She saw the despair in his eyes when he killed Varric.

Sulah stood on the raised platform where Solas orchestrated his ritual, watching as Varric climbed the stairs in an attempt to stop his friend. Even in a memory, the air was charged with powerful magic, culminating in a swirling wind that blew her hair into her face, obscuring her view. She could only make out fragments of the argument.

“You need to listen—”

“You have come a long way and made a valiant effort, Varric—”

“—able to give me a straight answer—”

“—rather than admit this is mine to solve—”

“—who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?”

Varric’s last statement stung like a knife. His words echoed as time slowed. Sulah felt the heavy burden of self doubt imbued in Solas’s memory as the two men locked eyes, their argument hanging in the air between them. In a chaotic flash, several things happened: Solas turned to continue the ritual, Varric attempted to pry the lyrium dagger from Solas’s hands, and the monuments of the Evanuris surrounding the ritual site began to fall. Somewhere in the chaos, while wrenching the dagger back from Varric’s grasp, the blade pierced through his chest. The sound of ripping flesh. The gasp from Varric’s mouth.

“NO!” Sulah shouted. Time had slowed, and she rushed to catch him as he stumbled, forgetting that it was no use. Her arms moved through him like a ghost.

Solas watched his friend fall to the bottom of the stairs, regret bubbling up inside of him at what he’d done. And still, the sense of doubt from Varric’s words lingered, sullying Solas’s certainty as innocent blood seeped through the fabric of his gloves.

He steeled himself with cold resolve and turned away.

The gray of the Fade prison came back into view. Sulah felt like she had been in Solas’s memories for hours, but neither her body nor his had moved from the ground against the wall. He watched her with bated breath, his jaw clenched, eyes glossy with fresh tears. Moments ago, she watched him command a rebellion, steadfast and resolute and proud. A powerful god among mortals. But the Solas in front of her now held little of the immense ancient spirit she’d seen. He was only a man, broken from the weight of his regrets.

“I cannot ask for your forgiveness, vhenan. Not even your understanding.” His voice broke, his next words spoken through a sob. “I am so sorry that I let you fall in love with a monster.”

Solas hugged his knees to his chest. His hands shook and his body trembled as he cried. It was pure, raw, searing emotion—and it was the first time she had ever seen him lose control of himself. Sulah had been lonely for years, yearning for the man who felt like home while sleeping cold in an empty bed, but she’d never felt as alone as she felt now, sitting in the vast emptiness of the Fade with a god shedding centuries’ worth of repressed agony that she could never possibly comprehend. He was the one who always seemed to know what to do, who had a plan for everything. He was the one more familiar with the Fade than the waking world. But he was also the one who had to face his regrets. His pain. And he had already proven that he couldn’t do that on his own.

“Solas,” she said, quiet and sad. “You killed Varric.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked through tears.

“I… I knew he was gone, but no one…” she trailed off, thinking back to the letter she received from Morrigan shortly after she met Rook and the others. Varric was gravely injured in an altercation. He did not make it. I am sorry you have to find out this way. “No one told me it was by your hand.”

“They were protecting you,” he said. “From the truth of what I am. Perhaps they shouldn’t have done so.”

Sulah sat in silence, trying to piece it all together in her mind.

“I never meant to hurt Varric,” Solas whispered. “I have harmed so many people, innocent people, and Varric… Varric….”

He stopped speaking and rested his forehead on his knees, letting the tears fall on his armor.

“My love—”

“How can you possibly still love me, Sulah?” he snapped, a wolf showing his fangs. “I deserve whatever cruel fate awaits me here. You do not.”

“Solas—”

“Would you truly—”

“Let me speak,” she said, stern and commanding. Her Inquisitor voice, the other members liked to call it. It worked. Solas nodded for her to continue. “To heal from your past, you have to confront it. It will be painful, but you must. Tell me about Varric.”

Solas sighed and let his head fall back to the wall, the apex of his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Varric was a good man. He was my friend.” He closed his eyes and Sulah watched as a single tear ran down his bloodied face. She tried to hold back her own tears, but they streamed warm down her cheeks nonetheless.

“What would you say to him if he were here?”

“That it is one of my greatest regrets, one that I desperately wish I could take back. That I enjoyed his company on our journey years ago, and that I have missed him in the years since. And that I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Like a prayer, the final words escaped Solas’s mouth in a despondent whisper. In the distance, a structure resembling the skyline of Kirkwall crumbled. Sulah recognized it from her visit several years ago. She had only made it to Kirkwall once in the time that Varric was viscount, a position he reluctantly accepted, but one that she always suspected he secretly enjoyed. He took her to the cliffs of Sundermount, where Dalish sometimes set up camp. It looked remarkably like the area of the Free Marches her clan frequented before she left.

“I thought it might remind you of home”, he had said.

“I came here to see* your *home, Varric.”

“We’re doing that too.” he pointed across the water to the silhouetted, square buildings.

She smiled at the memory and let herself cry as the Kirkwall replica became an avalanche of stone plummeting into the abyss. When its final, broken pieces fell, Solas turned back to her and took a long breath. She looked at him, attempting to reconcile the Solas she knew and loved, the Solas in front of her now, with the Solas she saw in his memories. There was a cruel pride deep inside of him, one he tried to keep from her for so long. She could see it now, and it was fractured.

How could she possibly come to terms with all he had done? He had taken Varric away from this world, a man who, despite his faults, brought hope and friendship and humor into the world around him. She could feel the empty, aching shells of all the hearts who missed him—including her own. There were more adventures to be had, more books to be written, and Solas took it away. Away from Varric, away from the world. Sulah couldn’t bring herself to consider the even larger things he had done. The man she loved was responsible for the Blight. He tranquilized the Titans. He murdered his friends—sometimes on accident, sometimes for what he considered betrayal.

Sulah steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the air flowing in and out of her lungs. She let the world fall away until she could feel nothing but the essence of her soul spreading into her limbs, making her weightless. If Solas was a spirit of wisdom, what was she, deep down? A word stirred somewhere in the depths of her heart: patience.

“This is going to take a long time, vhenan.” Solas’s words roused her from contemplation.

“Yes,” she said. “For both of us, I think.”

For the first time since reuniting, he touched her of his own accord, studying her prosthetic arm with gentle fingers before resting his hand on her thigh beside it.

“It’s a good thing time doesn’t exist in the Fade, then.” Sulah placed her remaining hand on top of his. “To answer your earlier question, I choose to still love you despite your mistakes, Solas. I love you because I tried to move on, to meet other people, but none of them could touch whatever piece of my soul that you do. Every person I tried to give my heart to was a flimsy bandage over a gaping wound. And I had to reconcile with myself that I love someone who would tear the world apart for his own stubborn pride. I know your heart, Solas. You are more than your mistakes.”

Sulah felt as if a small part of the rift between them had stitched itself back together; a fragile scar translucent and deep, but healing nonetheless. For a moment, the insurmountable hurdles she would have to help him overcome fell away. It was just the two of them, together in the Fade like all those years ago. She knew how the world would see them: the lovestruck Inquisitor and the Dread Wolf. The cautionary tale of a Dalish girl who fell right into the jaws of Fen’Harel himself.

“Sulah,” Solas reached for her face with both hands, holding her like he had to be sure she wasn’t a mere reflection of his desire. “As long as you will have me, I swear to you: I will never abandon you again. You will have me, always.”

His kiss was soft, but charged with intention. Devotion. As they broke apart, he pulled Sulah into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Ar lath ma vhenan. Bellanaris.”

[natsarrownecklacx]

Seeing so many fics now not have many comments but so many notes really frustrated/ saddens me :/

people deserve to be told their works is good, that silly line they threw into the third paragraph referencing that show / movie was noticed, that they did not waste their time working on free entertainment for us.

It’s just so frustrating to click into a fic with a good few hundred notes and the only comments are “part two” or “tag in next part” cause like? How about some appreciation for what we already gave you before you start asking for something else that you’ll probably just disregard aswell?

[csswingandeasy]

Talking Heads: 77

[the-casbah-way]

i never ever cry in front of anyone ever but there was this boy i was OBSESSED with in primary school when i was like seven years old because he was the fastest boy in the class and he had cool spiky hair and i always thought it was a crush until i came out and realised it was gender envy of some form and today my friend out of the blue told me that i look like him and we looked at his instagram together and i actually do. i look almost exactly like him. and i cried like an absolute wanker because i’ve been so miserable my whole life being perceived entirely the wrong way and i went home today and looked at myself and realised i look like the boy i always wanted to be when i was a kid. and whenever i feel bad about myself i get to remind myself that i look like him so i shouldn’t feel bad because back then i couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting to look like this. and t will only make it better and even though the idea of starting it is still so scary to me i keep having moments like this that make me realise how good it’s going to be even if some of it will suck. i always focus on all of the ways my transition has gone and will go wrong and i forget that it’s going to go right in a lot of ways too

[yeetusthemighty]

So I see a lot of people headcanon Zane as super tall, which I love, however I raise thee:

Zane USED to be super tall in comparison to the other ninja (like in season 1-4ish when they were all teenagers) but now that they are all adults (Dragons Rising) he’s actually kinda short.

Like he definitely isn’t the shortest but some of them have definitely surpassed him in height since, you know, his body is modeled after himself in S1-3 and he can’t really. Age. But everybody else can and he hasn’t really needed to be completely rebuilt since he died so

Like you could definitely say that since he has gotten repaired/upgraded he might’ve used that to kinda mimic aging [which is also incredibly cool]

But I think this is much more interesting

[brutal-out-here]

Not sure how many Sabrina fans follow me so I’m hoping this does well within the tags. I personally have been a fan since Girl Meets World aired, so half a year before her 1st album came out

[rooksunday]

Surprise self-rec time! Pick 3 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics 💞

aaah this is fun! tysm ✨

localised gravity (ch 21: love) | din and grogu and memory

i had a very specific image in mind for this that i’m not sure i conveyed. the notion of memory, and din’s hope to be remembered in turn— i know i make myself cry when i read this one ahahah.

it’s only a target if you miss | fox and the ghost of thorn

transformation and reclamation of self and one’s narrative is, essentially, everything to me. now with flat pack furniture and plants! rightly, this should’ve been 100k.

a blade in the hand (two in the face) | crackle permits himself to care

the most self indulgent part of the garlympics verse. more subversion of destiny: kamino says you’re a shell, but inside you lives an ocean. crackle came from nowhere and captured me.