#MY FINGERS ARE BROKEN ITS SO WORTH IT GUYS

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[ha-rinrin]

Holding On

WARNING: This definitely counts as spoiler for act 3.

Summary: Jinx thinks she too far gone, but you think exactly the opposite.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

Wordcount: 829

Authors note: I decided to cope with writing so I'm back guys :)

masterlist

The air was thick with tension, the faint hum of the explosives making everything feel heavier. Jinx stood in the center of the room, her body trembling with the weight of her thoughts. The bomb was in her hands—its cruel, ticking countdown echoing through her head, matching the frantic pace of her heartbeat.

She looked at the device, her eyes wild with something darker than madness. Her fingers were just inches away from pulling the trigger. The detonator. The end. She could feel it. The destruction. The chaos.

But there was something else too. Something so faint, you almost missed it—a desperation that even Jinx couldn't hide.

You didn’t know how you got here, only that you had to get to her before it was too late. Your heart pounded in your chest as you rushed into the room, your eyes locking onto her figure.

"Jinx!" you called, your voice strong, breaking through the sound of the countdown. She didn't look up. Not at first.

"Don't even think about it," you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the tense silence that had surrounded her. You knew you were running out of time.

Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with something you couldn't read, a whirlwind of anger, pain, and confusion. The bomb was still in her hands, her fingers trembling, but she didn’t move.

"You think you can stop me?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, raw. "You think I care?"

You took a step closer, your hands raised in a gesture of caution, but your resolve was unwavering. "I care, Jinx. I care more than you know. But this… this isn't you."

Her lips curled into a bitter smile, but her eyes betrayed her. They were glassy, unfocused. "Who else am I supposed to be, huh?" The words were jagged, broken, just like her. "I’ve lost everyone. I don’t even know who I am anymore."

"You're Jinx," you said, your voice softening as you took another step forward. "You're the girl I… I can’t lose, not like this." You swallowed, your heart aching with every word you spoke. "Please, put the bomb down."

For a long moment, she just stood there, her face unreadable, as though trying to make sense of the chaos in her mind. Then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, but you heard it clearly.

"You’ve been the best girlfriend… the best person in my life. You know that, right?" Her hand trembled, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes didn’t meet yours as she spoke, but you could see the hint of something breaking in her gaze. "I’m sorry… but I don't think I can keep going like this. I don't know how much more of me you can take."

"Jinx, no…" you breathed, stepping closer, your heart pounding as the weight of her words hit you.

"You deserve someone who can be whole," she continued, her voice cracking, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "You deserve someone who can… stay. I don’t even know who I am anymore. But you—" She stopped, shaking her head, a faint laugh escaping her lips, bitter and broken. "You were everything. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"Don’t you dare," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not like this."

Her hand tightened on the detonator again, her fingers almost convulsing, but she was silent, the look in her eyes telling you more than any words could.

You couldn’t let her go, not like this.

“Please, Jinx,” you whispered desperately, your voice barely audible. "I need you. I love you. I can’t lose you. You don’t have to do this. You’re worth so much more than all of this. We’ll figure it out together. Please."

She looked at you then, her lips trembling, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. The bomb in her hand felt like nothing compared to the weight of the emotion that filled the room. She slowly lowered the detonator, her hands shaking as she clutched it loosely, a faint tremble passing through her.

"I'm too far gone," she said, barely above a whisper, her voice breaking. "But maybe... maybe I still have something left. I can't leave you alone"

You reached for her then, slowly, gently. She didn't flinch as you took her hand in yours, her fingers cold but now gripping you back, even if just a little.

"I can't let you go," you said softly, your voice trembling but firm. "Please... don't leave me like this."

For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself lean against you, her body trembling. The bomb was still in her hand, but she wasn’t holding onto it anymore.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

And for once, there was no chaos. Just the fragile thread of connection between you, something both of you clung to as if it could mend the broken pieces. "You deserve everything," you murmured, your voice steady and sure. "And I’ll be here to remind you of that, every step of the way."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiii how are you? Could i please request a jealousy fic with jason and dick, like how would they react? What would they do about it? I'm sorry its reallyyy cliche, but i love it anyway💕

Hi anon! I’ve been fine, been taking lots of power naps whenever I can, especially after work, but I’ve fine.

Jason’s jealously more or less comes from a place of insecurity.

He fears that one interaction with the right guy/ girl/ whomever would be enough to make you see that there were better options out there than him.

He never doubts your loyalty to him, never. He wasn’t that pathetic. He just didn’t trust everyone else that even looked at you in the same light as he did on the daily, and it was extremely evident when Jason didn’t like the looks of someone; Furrowed brows over narrowed judging eyes, his form practically towering over you protectively as he stares down the person whom he believes might take you from him.

His protectiveness tends to spike up periodically the moment he see the person get a little too close for comfort and he would clench his jaw to prevent himself from saying something he might regret later on; Jason tries to restrain himself for your sake but it was blatantly obvious that he was on the brink of exploding.

So when you both got home Jason didn’t waste any time in letting you know how he felt during the entire interaction after having forced himself to hold his own tongue.

‘Did you find that person attractive?’ He’d ask.

‘No.’ you said. ‘were you jealous?’

‘I thought me staring down the poor bastard was evident enough.’ Jason scoffs and you hugged his waist all the while pressing reassuring kisses at the base of his neck, when his hands reached to hold yours and intertwine your fingers together.

‘I know that you know I love you very much, no one else catches my eye when I have you,’ you reassured as you pressed another kiss to his neck, ‘my beautiful boy, my beautiful jay birdie.’ You added in a whisper as Jason felt the last remnants of jealously fade away into the background with every kiss you gave him.

‘Are you sure you can see yourself being with me? long term I mean.’ He then says as he squeezed your hands in his search of comfort from you and it broke your heart when he didn’t see himself the way you did, but you were more then willing to kiss and cuddle away his troubles if it meant reminding him of his worth.

‘Without question.’ You confidently told him, squeezing his hands. ‘I don’t see myself with anyone else but you because even though you may not think it, you are more then enough and you are not broken, to me you are whole and you are perfect.’ You finished by pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades and resting your head there as you focused on his breathing.

‘Can…can we just forget about all this and just cuddle like any other cliche couples do?’ Jason asked, finding himself feeling a lot better upon hearing you laugh against his back as a smile crossed his face.

‘Sure big guy.’ You replied. ‘We can go cuddle now.’

And with that Jason was quick to pick you up in his arms and carry you off towards the bedroom where you inevitably feel asleep in the other’s arms, happy and content.

Dick wasn’t one to speak up on his emotions much, which was something that he knew he could better work on for the sake of your relationship with him.

He’s seen himself in the mirror. He knows his own appeal very well but physical appearance were secondary to you as it was his personality that won you over in the end. However he knew that beauty was subjective and that one day you might come across someone more physically appealing than him.

He’d act as though nothing was wrong but if you could easily tell something was off by just his stance alone, crossed arms over chest and a look in his eyes, as though he was trying to deduce the person you were trying to have a civil conversation with.

He may stand close to you and put a hand on your waist or throw an arm over your shoulders, pull you into his side and press a kiss to your forehead with a smile plastered across his face, but he wouldn’t say a word in hopes that would be enough to get across to the person that you were very much taken.

Upon arriving home however, Dick acts he wasn’t even remotely jealous to begin with, despite the glaring fact that he very much was.

‘Me? Jealous?’ He asks incredulously but upon seeing your face, he knew that this act of his had long since stopped working the moment you grew the ability to read him.

‘Yes, you were and you weren’t even trying to make it discreet at all.’ You told him as you settled aside your things on the kitchen counter and sighed. ‘I just wish you would talk to me about these things so that we could get this together like couples should.’

Dick frowned as he moved next to you and gently took your hand in his own, caressing it. ‘I know and I’m sorry that I haven’t been more open and honest with you it’s just-‘

‘You find it difficult to do so I know.’ You cut him off, looking him in the eyes. ‘I don’t blame you for that and I never would, you know that but I just wished that you trust me more to speak to me about these things.’ You tell him as you squeezed his hand. ‘I only want to help you.’

Dick kisses your forehead. ‘I know you do and I appreciate it very much.’ He whispered against your skin. ‘I just don’t know what you see in me sometimes, nor do I understand how you could have possibly put up with me as long as you have given how closed off I can be sometimes.’ He adds as he pulls away, his heart weighing heavily in his chest as he awaits your response.

‘I stay with you because I love you stupid.’ You said softly as you bumped his shoulder with your own. ‘And maybe because Hayley is too cute a pup to ever leave.’

‘I had a feeling Hayley was a major factor in you staying.’ Dick laughed. ‘Can’t say I blame you though, she is indeed very cute.’ He adds as he looks over at the staffy, who was very much fast asleep in her little bed in the living room before looking back to you with gentle eyes. ‘But I’m glad that you did stay. I love you too, dummy.’ He utters softly as he nudged you with his shoulder, vowing to himself to do better by you from this day forth.

[sparklystarrrr]

No Chance, No Way!!

Synopsis: In which (Y/n) falls in love with none other than Idia Shroud, but is scared to fall in love because of her freshly broken heart.

Contains: Idia S. x Fem! Megara! Reader, set in a garden in the Island of Woe, Idia & reader are hopelessly in love, Ortho our fav wingman who's sick of the two being hopelessly in love, Idia in Hades' toga and Reader in Megara's dress... I need that (I'm Greek, I want the rep), told from the reader's perspective, YES THIS IS BASED ON THE ACC SCENE WHERE MEG SINGS I WON'T SAY I'M IN LOVE it's gonna be so cliche and cheesy but WHATEVER

It was a rather warm summer night, the moon was shining and all seemed peaceful. That was until I got lost in my thoughts, walking and picking a delicate blue flower and landing myself on a bench in the garden of the Island of Woe. This was the perfect night to get lost in my thoughts. The only thing accompanying me was the cool breeze and the ruffle of leaves. I twirled the fragile flower around between my fingers, noticing how the flower's petals faded from a dark blue out to a light yet bright blue and all I could think about was him. A small grin formed on my face.

Oh, him... It felt so fleeting to feel this way, as if I was jumping on clouds with the wind in my hair... That was when I felt that feeling I was all too familiar with. I was in love... Ugh no.. I am not in love! I learned my lesson from the first guy this cannot be happening! I crossed my arms over my legs, propping my head up on my hand, I grumbled to myself "What's the matter with me... You'd think a girl would learn..."

I got myself up and walked around the garden. It seemed to be decorated with little cupids and statues of lovers, this was certainly an icky feeling... I sighed hopelessly while turning the little cupid from pointing its arrow at me to the other direction"If there's a prize for rotten judgment, I guess I've already won that..." I sauntered around aimlessly, passing a hedge of bushes"No man is worth the aggravation, that's ancient history... Been there, done that!" I flung the blue flower behind me in frustration.

As if on queue, a pair of big bright yellow eyes poked out from inside the bush. Suddenly, a determined Ortho popped out and caught the flower I tossed. He seemed to be giggling to himself, "Who do you think you're kidding! After doing a few scans on you, my databases tell me that big brother's the "Earth and Heaven" to you!" My cheeks flushed at his sudden interjection. I grunted as I plopped down onto a bench, holding my head in my hand's as I pouted... I can't really be feeling like this after just getting broken up with a few months ago, could I? "Don't try to keep it hidden (Y/n)! My scans can see right through you!" Ortho's child-like robot voice broke me out of my thoughts. "Oh no..." I moaned out while covering my face with my hands.

"You can't conceal it forever (Y/n), I know exactly how you're feeling and who you're thinking of!" He floated above me and dangled the flower beside my face in hopes I would catch it and just confess to these heavy feelings. I ignored the flower tickling my cheek and brushed it off of me. Ortho made a "hmph!" sound like he was determined to get me to say it. I stood up, feeling slightly ashamed for these not so new feelings,"No chance, no way! I won't say it, nope!" My frustration easily got to me. Why can't these feelings just pass!

Once again, Ortho kept pushing, "You're swooning, sighing, and your dopamine levels skyrocket when you're around Idia, all signs of being in love! Why deny it?" He had a point... but I won't say it!,"It's so cliche, Ortho! I just can't say i'm in love!" I walked away holding my arms close to my body. These feelings were so warm yet so uncertain... Ortho sighed and followed me to the path full of statues of lovers "I thought my heart had learned its lesson... It always feels this good when it starts out." I grumbled and looked up at all the statues while feeling a pang of loneliness I didn't know I felt until now.

My head was practically screaming 'Get a grip, girl! Unless you're dying to cry your heart out!' at me! I then felt Ortho's mechanical hand pat my shoulder and he looked up at me with those adorable big yellow eyes of his"You keep denying who you are and how you're feeling, but I'm not buying it! You practically hit the ceiling whenever the two of you talk!" I turned away from him and pouted, was it really that easy to see my feelings towards Idia..? "Facing it and owning up to these emotions will release a weight off your shoulders. And my databases are 101% sure you won't get rejected!" That comment made me feel... hope? Why was I feeling hopeful about this?! I can't believe myself!

"No chance! I won't ever say it!" I say stubbornly as I hop across pedestals that stuck out in the clear blue water of a pool. On the last pedestal I trip and nearly fall into the cold water! That's when a male's hand reaches out to me. I grab on and he pulls me onto the ground before I could fall. I looked at the hand. It was pale, bony and was larger than my own. I looked up at the man who owned this warm hand and it was none other than Idia.

"..Hey... Y-you good?" His awkward sharp toothy grin was really cute and I couldn't help but smile when I saw the pink tips of his blue hair going wild and crazy. 'Wow.. he looks really good in this outfit he was wearing though, I see his biceps and everything...I knew he had a sleeper build...' Shut up mind! I can't think like this... I smiled gently up at him and muttered a small, "I'm fine..!" I said as we both giggled awkwardly. I turned away, trying to hide my blush and he did the same. My hands brushed through my long (h/c) locks and I saw Ortho who seemed to be ushering me to confess because the Seven know Idia won't. He created a small hologram that had the words "Give in!!" "I can see that smile from here, (Y/n)!" He shouted at me. He put up a thumbs up for me to confess.

I covered my ears and shut my eyes as if I was trying to shut the whole world out. "This scene won't play Ortho! I just won't say it, get off my case!" I yelled back to him as I ran off to the fountain to sit and be irritated. I plopped down with a scowl and put my hand down on the cement to lean myself on my arm. The feeling of a stem was under my palm and I suddenly knew exactly what it was... the blue flower. I picked it up, smiling to myself in content as I put it up to my nose and smelled the fragrance. It smelled almost sweet, but perfect.

I touched the petals delicately with my free hand "Well, at least out loud I won't say I'm in love..." I held the flower to my chest and sighed, my body going to lay down on the edge of the fountain when suddenly I felt someone beside me. I heard a small "Eep!" from the person my head had bumped into and I turned around in surprise. "I-Idia?" We felt close.. too close for us to just be friends. "Uh.. Ortho sent me here.... Sorry... I-i can go if you need me too." And with that he started getting up, his hair going a bit more crazy than usual with the pink tint still there, even his ears were a light pink, his cheeks too.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. All I did was suddenly grab onto his arm. I'm so gonna be embarrassed for this later... "Sorry... but don't go. Sit with me, Idia..." I felt my face heating up a bit, him clearly turning pinker as seconds passed. I pulled him to sit down next to me. "So... clearly Ortho wanted the both of us to be here." I mumbled. "Yeah..." He said while nervously playing with his hair that was glowing a brighter pink. There was an awkward silence for a moment. We didn't really have anything to talk about in this situation. I sighed. "I'm sorry for... being in love with you, I guess." My hand wrapped around his hands which were still busy fiddling with his flaming locks. My other hand sat in my lap, twirling the blue flower.

He choked on air for a moment at my sudden confession. Obviously he wasn't expecting it. "N-no! It-it's fine it's just... Idk.. I'm not used to this stuff..." At this point all his hair had been colored a bright fuchsia. "Well I am you could say... I'm just scared of being in love." He looked at me, then away from me, at my flower, then back at me. "... Why? You seem like that girl everyone wants... like some normie... couldn't ever be seen with me..." He muttered the last part under his breath.

I scoffed at myself," If you really want to know, I got my heart played with." I looked away as my shoulders slumped and I looked down at my hands. His silence made it awkward but I knew he didn't really know how to respond. "That's stupid of him...." I heard him quietly whisper to himself. I looked at him with a smirk, "Yeah, really was stupid of him. Glad you think the same, Shroud..." He squeaked and his face turned almost as pink as his hair.

"But you know, I'm past him." He looked at me with his bright yellow eyes that I adored so much. "I don't think I could be scared of love when I'm with you..." I said while smiling up at him. His deep blue lips parted as I got closer to him, our hands still touching as they went down together and leaned on the stone fountain. He picked up the flower laying in my other hand, and feeling bold, he tucked it behind my ear."...You know... (h/c) looks mega cool with blue..." I smiled at his words.

Without a second thought, my now empty hand went up to his jaw and I dragged him down to get closer with me. I crashed my rosy lips against his icy blue ones. Suddenly the whole world seemed to disappear. His hands froze in their spot but as the kiss deepened, his hands went to my waist, his thumbs rubbing against my sides while he pulled me closer.

We pulled away to catch our breath. I smirked at his now bright red face. "I love you, Shroud. Don't break my heart.." I said in a breathy tone. I already knew he wouldn't, I trust him with my life. "I wouldn't dare, πριγκίπισσα." We crashed our lips together once more, grabbing onto each other like our lives depended on it. And the rest was history~

(queue lil Ortho celebrating in a bush and watching them, then covering his eyes when the two start getting a little steamy)

I've had an Idia hyper fixation for the past 2 days, I NEEDED THIS

Edit: πριγκίπισσα is princess in Greek<333

[r-memberme]

sharing type | k.p

⎯⎯ He’s already halfway to imagining their bones broken in alphabetical order.

warnings: fluff

The Mystic Grill buzzed with its usual half-hearted charm—dim string lights flickering overhead, lazy country music floating from the jukebox, and the scent of onion rings clinging to everything like a curse. You sat beside Elena in a corner booth, sipping a strawberry soda through a striped straw, one leg curled beneath you as you listened to her recap the latest Salvatore drama.

Kai and Damon had wandered off to the bar to pretend they could stand each other for more than ten minutes. So far, no blood had been spilled. A win, in your book.

You gave her a sly grin. “They’re growing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Barely.”

Elena glances at you the moment the shadows fall across your table—two strangers, tall, arrogant, too sure of themselves. They lean in, leering, stinking of cheap cologne and worse intentions, voices slick with the same tired charm they’ve probably used on half the bar.

You don’t even blink. Just sip your drink and exchange the look.

That silent, unimpressed look shared only by women who’ve seen gods bleed. The do they have any idea who our men are? look. The should we warn them or let them die oblivious? look.

You sigh—long, theatrical, drenched in boredom—and place your glass down with deliberate care. The straw shifts like a white flag in the cup. Then you twist in your seat, letting them see the full force of your disdain. Your expression could cut glass.

“See that guy over there?” you say, voice feather-light, motioning with your chin toward the bar.

Kai hasn’t looked away since the moment the men approached. He’s perched on the stool like a lounging serpent, elbow on the counter, eyes glinting beneath lazy lashes. Still, there's nothing lazy about the way he watches. His gaze is lethal—like a knife dipped in something slow and fatal.

He’s already halfway to imagining their bones broken in alphabetical order.

“The one who looks like he’s moments from setting someone on fire with his mind?” you continue sweetly, tilting your head just so. “That’s my boyfriend.”

Elena, perfectly timed, gestures at Damon—who’s swirling his bourbon like it holds the last nerve he has left, already glaring hard enough to burn holes through both men.

“And mine’s the one who’s murdered people for less,” she says with a bright, innocent smile.

The men freeze.

Smirks falter. Confidence flickers.

One of them clears his throat, the sound dry and nervous. “Oh. Uh. You’re with… them?”

“Mhm,” you chirp, rising from the booth like it’s a stage and you’ve just been cued. Elena moves in tandem, the both of you calm, polished, rehearsed.

The strangers barely have time to stammer out an excuse before Kai shifts.

He doesn’t move much—just turns to face them, slow and serpentine, one brow arching with something between amusement and malice. His fingers twitch like he’s already chosen which spell to use. Not if—which.

The men take one look at him—truly look���and bolt like someone shouted fire.

Cowards.

You and Elena stroll back to the bar like you’re returning from a casual walk. Damon spares a glance over his glass and mutters, “Trouble?”

Elena shrugs. “Handled.”

Kai is still watching you, eyes narrowed, chest rising a little too slowly. You reach out and press your hand to his sternum—firm and warm beneath your palm.

“They weren’t worth it,” you murmur. “Just two boys playing brave.”

“I wasn’t going to kill them,” he lies.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I was just mentally planning their funerals,” he amends, with a slight pout. “That’s different.”

You grin, rising up on your toes to kiss the edge of his mouth—the corner, barely there, featherlight. He sucks in a breath like it startles him every time. Like the softness always strikes harder than the fire.

“You’re adorable when you’re unhinged,” you whisper.

Kai huffs. But you see the way he glows under your praise—subtle, hesitant, like he’s not quite used to being loved this way. Not yet. But he wants to be.

Damon groans something foul about lovebirds, but neither of you hear him.

Kai’s already tugging you gently toward the door, his fingers tangled through yours with an urgency he can’t mask.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs, low and rough into your ear. “Before I accidentally test a fire spell.”

༊*·˚

The door barely clicks shut behind you before Kai’s already kicking off his shoes, peeling off his jacket, and sprawling dramatically across your couch like he owns the place.

And to be fair—he kind of does.

He’s been slowly overtaking your space like ivy: leaving books open on your counters, jackets slung over chairs, a set of rings on your nightstand that you’re pretty sure he thinks you haven’t noticed. His toothbrush showed up in your bathroom three weeks ago without a word.

You haven’t asked him about it. He hasn’t offered. But he’s here more often than not, and you like it that way.

“Movie time,” he announces, claiming the middle cushion like it’s a throne and opening his arms wide like he expects tribute.

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean our movie night? The one where I pick the movie because last time you picked The Shining and then asked why I don’t sleep with the lights off anymore?”

Kai shrugs, wholly unbothered. “Not my fault Jack Nicholson is a cinematic genius.”

“He tried to murder his family.”

“With style,” Kai says, deadpan.

You throw a pillow at his face. He lets it hit him dramatically, like you’ve wounded him. Flops sideways and groans, sprawled like a fallen king.

Eventually, you settle on something safe and cozy—an old rom-com, something where no one dies and everyone ends up kissed. Kai grumbles at first, makes sarcastic comments for the first fifteen minutes, but his hand finds yours anyway. Lazy fingers playing with your knuckles. Thumb brushing over your wrist like it calms him to feel you breathing.

It’s not long before he shifts closer. And then closer again. Until your legs are tangled and his head is buried against your shoulder, nose in your neck like he’s trying to breathe you in.

“You smell good,” he mutters into your collarbone.

You hum, threading your fingers through his hair. “Better than popcorn?”

“Better than blood.”

You snort. “Romantic.”

He grins against your skin. “I’m serious. You smell like… peace. And cinnamon. And that one shampoo that says it’s made of like, eleven herbs and doesn’t specify what any of them are.”

You laugh and tip your head back, letting it rest against the cushions. Kai just watches you for a moment. Soft-eyed. Quiet. Like he can’t believe this is real.

And maybe he can’t.

He shifts again, tugging the blanket over both of you. His arm winds around your waist, snug, protective, heavy in a way that feels more grounding than suffocating. His voice is softer now, low and earnest:

“Thank you.”

You blink. “For what?”

“For not running away. For… making room for me. Even when I make it hard.”

Your hand curls instinctively into his shirt.

“You make it easy, Kai.”

He lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for days. You lean in, press your forehead to his, let silence bloom soft between you. The only sound is the TV droning on in the background and the quiet rhythm of your hearts.

Eventually, he murmurs:

“I’d kill anyone for you.”

You smile, eyes fluttering closed. “I know.”

“And I’d only sort of feel bad about it.”

“Progress.”

He chuckles against your skin. “I’m working on it.”

You kiss his temple, slow and fond. “I know.”

And then you both fall silent again. Wrapped in warmth. Wrapped in each other.

Kai Parker—terrifying, reckless, half-reformed mess of a man—falls asleep on your chest twenty minutes later, soft snores muffled against your t-shirt.

You don’t move.

Not even when the credits roll. Not even when your arm goes numb.

Because it’s Kai. And for once, he feels safe. And more than that—he trusts you.

You’re not moving. Not yet.

Not ever, if he had anything to say about it.

thank you to @sc4rrc for the request <3 I hope you enjoyed it!!

feel free to request fics with kai again! <3

taglist: @ohapple

@myworldrightnow

@deactiveblogx

@witch-of-letters

@xtwistedchaosx

@liataylorsversion

@pardonmydelayyy

@siredbyklausm

[averycutesalamander]

AHHH 11! 11! 11!

decided to combine these into one :)

11: Telling them a dumb joke just to see them smile

22: Listening to them while they vent

“And I’m guessin’ he didn’t apologize?” Boothill drawls, working his jaw.

“Of fucking course he didn’t!” you huff, gesticulating wildly. “He acted like I was the one inconveniencing him – like it wasn't his dog that was off-leash and fucking tackling people!”

“Bastard better be glad it didn't hurt ya,” he mutters darkly, “or I'd need to introduce him to my gun.”

You slump down into yourself, pressing your face into your hands and making a frustrated noise, long and loud. He places a comforting hand on your back, tracing slow, gentle circles to soothe you. Finally, you settle, sighing wearily.

“More trouble than it's worth,” you mumble, rubbing at your temples. “I just need to stop thinking about it. There's really nothing else to be done right now.”

Well, if it were up to him, he'd knock on the guy's door and deck him for being a moron, but you never like it when he tries to resolve minor disputes like this with his fists, so he'll let it go – for your sake.

He hums in acknowledgement, examining you for a long moment as silence descends between you. Your shoulders are still tense, and he can hear that your heart rate is still a bit faster than usual, so you're clearly still thinking about it…

Maybe he can give you a hand.

“What's the difference between a piano, a tuna, and a pot of glue?” he suddenly asks, utterly nonchalant.

You go still under his touch, and when you look up from your hands, your expression is completely baffled. “...Is this another one of your weird fucking anecdotes?”

“I ain't tellin’,” he says, a small note of smugness in his voice. “C'mon, guess!”

You scrunch your brows in thought. “Uh… Something about tuning a piano?”

He smirks. “Close. You can tuna piano, but ya can't piano a tuna.”

You snicker, and his heart swells at the sight of your smile. Then, you raise a brow expectantly. “What about the glue?”

His grin widens as he waggles one finger at you. “Ah, I knew you'd get stuck there.”

He watches in open delight as you pause, then burst into laughter, shaking your head and rolling your eyes in playful exasperation. “That's so stupid.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “It made ya laugh, so it did its job.”

You finally straighten your posture, eyeing him fondly for a moment, a little smile on your face. “You're too sweet,” you mumble, a gentle sort of warmth in your eyes.

He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Only for you, angel.”

(He'll never get tired of that expression on your face – that look of complete and utter adoration, something quieter than awe but somehow just as grand. He's sure he looks just the same.)

“Hm… What's–” you suddenly snicker, biting your lip in a fruitless effort to keep yourself together. “What's the difference between a garbanzo bean and a chickpea?”

He tilts his head quizzically. “They're the same thing, ain't they?”

“Nope,” you say, broken up by laughter. “I wouldn't pay ten thousand credits to have a garbanzo bean on my face.”

He blinks at you cluelessly for a moment, the gears in his brain churning. Your smile widens even further as you watch his expression shift. In thought, he murmurs, “A chickpea on your…”

The joke hits him all at once, and he bursts into laughter, wild and hearty.

“That's awful!” he laughs, pressing one hand to his face as you snicker.

“It made you laugh,” you sing, bumping his shoulder with yours.

(God, he loves you.)

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, then clears his throat in a futile attempt to compose himself. “So, a cat and a dog were leadin’ a caravan a’ pioneers…”

On and on and on it goes, until the memory of your irritation fades into oblivion and laughter rushes in to fill the gaps.

(He loves your smile too much to let you stay angry for long, after all.)

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy @rinzis

[doumadono]

EMERGENCY REQUEST

hi, I don't know if this is too specific or triggering but I'd love if you could write something where katsuki celebrates reader getting their period after a while of not having it due to an ed. (going through this right now and it feels like no one cares and I kind of want to be celebrated?) anyways thanks if you can or can't write something :)!

Worth celebrating - Bakugo x Reader

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

It happened on a Tuesday morning, when the clouds hung low and the city was draped in its usual post-rain haze.

Eight years since the end of the war, and still Katsuki Bakugo woke every day with the weight of it tucked somewhere between his shoulder blades, dull and familiar.

But today, the air in their apartment was off — not just because you’d left the window cracked, or because he’d made the coffee too strong again. Something was just different.

You didn’t say anything at first. Not when he leaned against the counter with his mug observing you like a predator, not when you shuffled into the kitchen with sleep still dragging at your limbs; not even when your boyfriend greeted you with a muttered, “Mornin’, dumbass,” softened only by the brush of his rough fingerpads over your hip as you passed him by.

It was when you returned from the bathroom that he noticed.

Your eyes were wide, glimmering. Your lip trembling. You stood there, in the doorframe, clutching the hem of your nightgown like a kid who didn’t know how to say the words caught in their throat.

“…What?” Katsuki asked, not unkindly.

Your gaze flicked down, and your voice came out in a whisper, “I got it back.”

Bakugo blinked. “Got what back?”

And then he realized.

He might’ve come off like a storm of muscle, barked orders, and a man too brash for softness — but that was all misdirection. The guy paid attention. Especially to you, his beloved girlfriend.

Your shoulders curled inward the moment it clicked in his head. You almost apologized for attempting to say it — he could see it forming in your mouth, the guilt for turning this small, biological thing into a confession, like it wasn’t that important anyway.

But Katsuki fucking Bakugo, survivor of wars and pride and all the broken pieces in between, moved. Instincts sharper than ever. He was across the room in a blink, setting down the mug so hard it nearly shattered on a nearby counter, before pulling you into his strong arms like you were the most precious gem. Because you were, in the end.

“You mean it?” he muttered against the top of your head, inhaling the warm scent of your hair deep in his lungs. “You really—?”

You nodded into his chest, clutching the back of his shirt like you were scared you’d imagined it. “I didn’t think it would come back,” you uttered, “I thought I’d ruined myself. After all that… After everything I did to my body, I just... I didn’t think it would come back to me. I can't believe I got my period after such a long, long time!"

His grip on you tightened, arms wrapping you up like a shield. Bakugo didn’t say I told you so, even though he could’ve. He’d told you you were getting better. He’d told you every small step mattered. But this wasn’t about being right.

This was about you.

“Fuck, baby…” he breathed, voice gone hoarse. “You’ve been working so hard.”

Your knees buckled a little, but he caught you, guiding you to the couch in the living room in that wordless way he always did — blunt, gruff, but gentle under it all. He sat beside you and held you, fingers stroking over your tensed back, his chin resting atop your head.

You didn’t talk for a while. Instrad, you cried a little, the kind of crying that comes from relief so deep it feels like mourning. He let you do so. It was a purifying act, and Katsuki understood its importance to the situation.

Eventually, you found your voice again. “It feels stupid, getting this emotional over it. Like it’s just a period, right?”

His eyes snapped to yours. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, though his thumb was still rubbing circles on your side. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. This ain’t just a period. It’s your body healing. It's proof you're taking care of yourself. Proof you're fighting. And I know how fucking hard that is for you.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded again, lip caught between your teeth. “People talk about healing like it’s this linear thing,” you stated. “But it’s not. Some days I still feel like I’m failing. Like eating that extra bite is a war I lose. Like maybe if I had just had more willpower back then, none of this would’ve—”

“No,” he interrupted, voice low but firm. “You don’t get to say that shit either. None of what happened was your fault. You were hurting. And now you’re healing. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, I could blow a hole through the damn roof.”

That made you laugh. Just a little. But it was real.

“You mean it?”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. Serious. Steady. Full of the kind of warmth Katsuki Bakugo didn’t show many people — but for you, it burned quietly every day.

“I mean it,” he claimed. “And I wanna celebrate.”

Your eyes widened. “Celebrate?”

“Hell yeah,” he nodded his head. “This is huge. Big enough that we should fuckin’ do something. You want cake? Pizza? Both? A damn movie night tonight? Or maybe we could visit that onsen you like so much, hmmm?”

You laughed again, covering your face with your hands, cheeks flushed. “Katsuki, it’s literally just blood pouring out of my vagina. I don't think it would be a proper thing to celebrate...”

“It’s not just anything,” he snapped, then softened his tone again. “It’s you getting better, as I said. You think I care about the blood part? Shit, I’ve seen worse, babe. I care that your body feels safe again.”

You sighed, wiped at your eyes, still smiling. "Okay."

And he kissed your forehead, grumbling something about how proud and happy he was.

But when you looked at him, soft and vulnerable and strong in a way you hadn’t been in a long time, he tugged your body close again, heart beating heavy in his chest. “Let’s go out,” he offered suddenly. “You pick. I’ll take you anywhere. Don’t care how fancy. I’ll even wear the fucking formal shirt you like so much, if needed.”

You looked up at him with something close to awe. “…You mean the one with the little hearts on the buttons?”

He groaned. “Yes, dammit.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his warmth. “Okay,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Yeah… you’re right. This is worth celebrating.”

@pixelcafe-network

[killerlookz]

wip wednesday... yay!

as 52 minutes remain in the day.... another sneak peak at my vamp! joost fic bc ive decided to work on it instead of studying for my final tomorrow... hehe

warnings: uhhh... rpf, and uh... idk vampire stuff? ... just no blood quite yet. ... and also this is kind of messy but im just writing the bare bones story rn before i go back and ham up the details... mwah

You stare as Joost raises your knuckles to his lips, was it not only a few minutes ago that you had sat down here under the mere presumption you'd keep each other company until the power came back on? How quickly you had let things move, you should pull your hand back, swat him away, not let him get any closer. His lips brush against your fingers before he presses a kiss just above your below. You'd never been kissed before, not by a guy anyways.

Never in your life had you felt yourself so close to succumbing to temptation. The pressure of years worth of repression weighing heavy on you, the cracks in your immaculacy long been formed, you know its only a matter of time before you crumble to pieces.

Though, perhaps this did not really count, Joost's actions seeming chaste enough, in stark contrast with the noises you had usually heard coming from his room at night. A slight smile on your face, no, this seemed to gentle, too sweet, this could not be you giving into temptation.

Yet you can't help but wonder what this all has to do with what Joost had been meaning to show you, what all this has to do with why as your hand rests in his it feels almost as if you're touching a corpse.

Joost's lower lip drags upwards against your fingers, its almost startling the lack of warmth that emanates from him, expecting his breath to be hot on your skin, yet still, he's ice cold. Still holding onto you, Joost twists your hand, forcing your palm open, his lips now against your wrist.

Joost inhales, breathing deeply, chest rising slowly, before he exhales at an equally steady pace,

"You…" He starts, before inhaling again, eyes closing as a smile tugs at his lips, exhale, "Smell delicious."

You furrow your eyebrows, your intrigue in Joost unable to override your unease with the comment, though, you supposed it had just been an odd way of saying he liked your perfume.

"Th…ank you?" Your voice wavers slightly, the tension of the situation mingling with the discomfort Joost had often brought you, the strange mix of emotions paralyzing you. All you can do is watch as Joost presses a soft kiss to your wrist. He can surely feel the way your fingers tremble as he holds them in his own hand, and how the veins in your wrist throb with trepidation.

Joost looks up for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity you had never quite seen.

"I'm so sorry…" He starts, he's the one sounding pathetic now, the strained words coming from his throat as if he is begging for forgiveness, and at the two simple words you feel a pit forming in your stomach. As each second passes you grow more anxious about what is to come next, "I'm sorry, I really don't want to scare you…. but you asked me to show… you... asked why and I just don't think I can control myself."

It all feels so very strange, the way he speaks, its cryptic, like he's skirting around something, purposefully misleading you, leaving you out of the loop.

"Wha-ahh!" A high pathetic yelp leaving your throat before you can even ask him what he means. A sharp, piercing sensation enters your wrist. It's agonizing, eyes widening and filling with tears as you look down at Joost, teeth sinking into your skin, you can hardly believe sheer human strength alone was enough to cause all this pain.

If you pull your arm away he'll surely tear a chunk out of your flesh, his jaw clamped down tight, your eyes flick to your wrist, realizing he's broken more than just skin.

[langdonsmel]

...yeah. yeah. major spoilers for 8x15. tw - major character death. read on ao3

Eddie gets the call at 9:32 on a Friday morning.

He's dropped Chris off at school and managed to pick up some groceries on the way home, he's got plans to swing by his favourite coffee shop for lunch and there's a marathon of Bake Off on later that he and Buck are gonna watch on facetime together when he gets off of shift, and things are okay. They're feeling solid for the first time in a while, like he's standing on solid ground for the first time in a long time, and like he might finally be finding his way.

So when Buck's name flashes across his phone at 9:32 on a Friday morning, he instantly picks up, tucking it between his shoulder and ear as he rummages through his bag to get to his eggs. "Hey, Buck. You guys must only have a few hours left of shift, right? Tell Chim that I got his movie recommendations, all seven texts worth, and that I only have so many hours left in my day—"

"Eddie." Buck says his name like it's been punched straight out of his chest, and it sets every single one of Eddie's senses on high alert, stopping in his tracks, eggs still in hand.

"What is it?" He questions, brow furrowing. "Is it Maddie? What's going on?"

"Eddie." Buck whispers, his voice hoarse in a way that tells Eddie he's been crying. "I– I need to tell you something." He takes a shaky breath, the words beginning to stream out of his mouth. "We– we were on a call and– and there was a fire at a lab and a– a virus and–"

"Buck, hey, breathe." Eddie says quietly, concern tingling at the tips of his fingers, like there's something he can't quite grasp. "Talk to me, what happened?"

Buck chokes out a shaky "Cap", sounding like he can't quite catch his breath, like the breaths he's trying to take are too big for his body before he manages to say, "Bobby didn't make it."

It's like part of Eddie's brain disengages, his legs turning to liquid beneath him as he slowly sinks into a dining chair. "What? Buck, you're not making any sense, what do you mean he didn't–"

"He's dead." Buck snaps, a pit forming in Eddie's stomach a mile wide as his world begins to shatter around him. Buck continues, a little quieter, "He was sick the entire time, and he didn't tell anyone. He made sure everyone was okay and then– he locked himself away to die alone, on the other side of the glass– god."

“Buck.” Eddie whispers, feeling completely outside of his own body. “Buck, what do you need?”

“Eddie? What–”

“What do you need from me?”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds, save for Buck’s ragged breathing. Then, a quiet plea. “Come home.”

A lump forms in Eddie’s throat almost too thick to swallow around, something in the back of his brain telling him he should’ve been there all along. That maybe, just maybe, he could’ve done something to help. He could’ve saved Bobby, or been there to hold his team up, or to do literally anything. Instead, he’s 800 miles away in a completely different state as his world is completely tipped on its head. Everything is wrong and Bobby is dead and Eddie feels like he’s not even human anymore.

The plastic of his phone creaks and groans in his hand as he nods absentmindedly, his actions sluggish as his brain tries to play catch-up. “We’ll be there soon.”

Buck takes a breath, sounding steady for the first time in the entire conversation. “Thank you.”

It’s 9:32 on a Friday morning when Eddie gets the call.

It’s 9:37 when he hangs up.

It’s 2:07 in the afternoon ten days later when he and Chris return from LA, hearts a little more broken, a piece of them forever hollowed out.

The eggs are still on the table where he left them. Life goes on.

[libraryofloveletters]

The Same Shade Of Red

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: monza 2020 (double dnf for the boys in red), so much angst sorry, redbull comparisons for seb, the magic that is monza, the disaster that is ferrari and their team, talks of seb's races in monza, a few harsh/sad thoughts from seb, mentions of retirement, charles's crash in monza 2020, mentions of the pandemic, reader is the most loving wife to which seb is her perfect match, britta is sooo over you guys after years of this.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: would I be me if I didn't take monza race weekend and turn it into an ode to seb? no. ferrari seb you will always be my most beloved and fuck you ferrari for hurting my husband fr. (also this gif is so sexy I can't explain it. well I can but I will be banned from tumblr dot com)

---

Monza held a special place in the heart of your husband, in yours and in anyone that was a part of the Vettel family.

Sebastian had proven his worth, winning his and Toro Rosso's first ever Grand Prix in Monza during the 2008 season.

It was no different when he moved to Red Bull from Toro Rosso, his era of dominance brought him win after win and two of which were in Monza; the home of Ferrari.

Ever since that first win, Sebastian held a special love for Monza, as did you. There's something magical about the place; it might be the atmosphere or the fans but it has always been good to you and Seb. Whatever it was, it was nothing if not remarkable every single time.

The Tifosi held their drivers to the highest of standards, some would say next to God. Something happens to Italy when motorsport comes to town; everything changes and every single person you meet is so passionate. They live and breathe for Ferrari, they'd die for their drivers if it meant they could see them on that top step.

When Sebastian moved from Red Bull to Ferrari, he counted down the days to Monza.

It had always been his dream to drive with the red team, just as his childhood hero and friend, Michael, had done. Sebastian's first year with Ferrari was the epitome of picture perfect.

Despite coming in P2 behind Lewis and Mercedes, being on the podium at home for Ferrari meant everything to the German driver. This wasn't the first time he had gotten on podium for Ferrari, in fact he had already won twice with them that season; in Malaysia and then again in Hungary.

Monza was different; magical, special. There was something in the air, the energy was indescribable. Sebastian grinned, waving to the team from the second step.

You smiled, watching as your fiancé at the time hummed along to the Italian anthem, a country he quickly counted as his second home.

Sebastian was the king of the world that day, even though he hadn't won.

He had returned to the garage with the biggest grin on his face, trophy in one hand and the bottle of champagne in the other. He passed them over to his engineer, making a beeline for you. The man's covered in champagne and sweat and confetti, and he smells like gasoline and engine oil but he picks you up, squeezing you tightly.

You remember telling him how much you loved him and how proud of him you were. Sebastian responded with a kiss, you can taste the champagne; a familiar taste that slowly became more scarce as his days with Ferrari went on.

Unfortunately, things took a bit of a downwards dip for Sebastian after that. He was hungry to win, he was constantly in a fight for the championship every year and it was killing him that he wasn't there yet. Yes, he had won races with them and broken every record he could possibly break but if he couldn't achieve the one thing he really set out to do, the one thing he had always dreamt about, then what was the point?

Monza seemed to always have Sebastian in its grasp, tricking him as the years went on. He almost always was there, he could reach out and touch the win and yet, it slipped through his fingers. Winning in Monza meant more to a Ferrari driver than winning in Monaco would - unless you were born and raised there like Sebastian's teammate, Charles.

You were the king of the world if you won there; your name written in the history books from now until the end of time.

Sebastian longed for his name to be in the book of the greats; Sebastian Vettel, Monza race winner.

A dream that slipped through his fingers as did his hope of winning the championship with Ferrari.

After coming in P2 in 2015, things just kept getting further and further from the finish line for him. P3 in 2016 and 2017, P4 in 2018 and last year was the final shove before the cherry on top this year; P13 while his new teammate, Charles, stood on the top step as race winner, basking in the magic that is Monza.

He was happy for him, beyond happy actually and any win for the team was great but oh how he wished that was him.

Now you're back in Monza, the season had been delayed due to the pandemic and this was the first race you had been able to join him for all season. It was weird being there with the track empty; just the teams and the occasional celebrity guest that was rich enough to pay their way in.

The car has been giving Sebastian a hard time all weekend, practice was shit and he placed P17 in qualifying. It wasn't a good weekend for your husband.

"Be good," you told him while he was getting ready for the race. Sebastian nods, a witty remark about him always being a good boy slipped past his lips and you waved him off, your cheeks red as you walked back to the garage.

Watching him start from the back of the grid was breaking your heart, you knew he could manage much more than that but it's the stupid car that was giving him trouble.

He barely got a grip on the car before he drove off and into the blocks that were in the run off area. Your brows furrowed as you watched him speed through the blocks, his voice coming through the headphone - "brakes failed."

Your heart drops, eyes fixed on the screen as Seb pulls the car into the corner as best as he can without disrupting the race. He finds his way back to the garage after the marshals come for his car, Sebastian gives your hand a squeeze as he passes through and into the back hallway to his driver's room. You figured you'd give him space to cool off and you stayed in the garage to watch a bit more of the race.

It was barely 20 laps later that you saw the other Ferrari slide into the wall. To no fault of Charles, the car had understeer which caused him to lose the back half and send him into the wall. You stood there, waiting to hear if Charles spoke before you took your headphones off.

Once you hear that he's okay, you step out of the garage and make your way to your husband's driver room. You knock on the door, peeking in before he answers.

Sebastian gives you a sad smile, you can feel your heart breaking as you step in and shut the door behind you. He's sitting on the bench and you walk over, joining him.

"Charles is coming in."

"What? The race isn't over, is it?" Sebastian looks over at you before glancing out the window. You shook your head, "it's a red flag now, Charles' car has understeer, went into the wall."

"Is he okay?" He asks and you nod, "he's a little shaken up but he'll be okay."

Your hand finds your husband's, interlocking fingers. "I always admire that even when you're going through it, you still look out for others."

"I know what it's like to be in his position, it's tough."

You hum, glancing down at the racing boots that were tossed to the side, Seb's sock clad feet slide back and forth over the floor. "You know what happened today wasn't your fault, Sebastian. It was mechanical."

He's quiet for a bit, nodding at your words. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, baby."

You look over at the man, "of Ferrari or of racing?"

"Both," he answers truthfully.

Sebastian and Ferrari had come to a mutual agreement - a publicity term - that they would not be renewing his contract. You weren't opposed to it, you knew it was killing your husband to go but if Sebastian was good at one thing, it was that he knew when it was time to go, he had to go. He wanted to win with them, you think a part of him still held a tiny sliver of hope that he would find his way back to the top step as champion of the world but he also knew being there was killing him.

Mentally, physically, emotionally; he couldn't bear the pressure of staying there any longer.

"It's just a few more races, love. You can do it."

He nods, "I know but.." "Don't even go there," you tell him, shifting to face him. One of your legs hanging off the bench as the other folded in front of you.

"Monza's special, you know that." He says, "I just.. I feel like I failed." He sighs, his head hung and if your heart wasn't already broken, it was broken now.

It was days like today that made you hate the team that your husband so dearly loved.

"You didn't fail, you never failed them, Sebastian." You squeezed his hand, the man looked up at you. Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, your thumb rubbing over the few days old stubble on his cheek. "If anything, they failed you."

"You have the talent and the skill, and the drive to win and to be a champion; it's them, babe. They couldn't give you a car that was worthy of you, you can't blame yourself for that." You look at your husband and the man sighs again.

"I should have been able to, though. Been able to get the best out of the car."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Seb, c'mon. Be for real right now, it's their shitty ass car, it's not your fault. You know Lewis's car is basically a rocket ship, plus it's not like your strategies are A1 over here."

Seb tosses you a glance, a look of disapproval on his face. "You're so not helping right now, darling."

You raise your hands in surrender and your husband smiles - his first genuine smile all weekend. You smile back, holding his face again. "I love you, Sebastian."

"I know," he grins and you shake your head, laughing. "This is usually the point where you say I love you back."

"Oh, sorry." he chuckled, "I love you, y/n."

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss. "Good, now come on. You need to get dressed, go check on your teammate," you patted his thigh, getting up to find a shirt for the man. In the meantime, Seb pulled off his race suit and fire proofs, slipping on a pair of shorts.

"Do I really have to go?" He sits on the bench again, shifting to lay down, his arms tucked behind his head. You roll your eyes, looking through the small cabinet off to the side. "Yes, you know they'll make you out to be a villain if you don't."

"And if I wanna be a villain ?" He asks, looking over at you.

You sigh, tossing the shirt at him, "Sebastian, don't start with me right now."

The man laughs, dropping the shirt on the bench before standing up. Sebastian grabs your hand, pulling you flush against his chest. "Ew," you fake a gag, "you're sweaty."

He smiles, ignoring your comment. "I don't know what I'd do without you, I can't thank you enough for being here for me all these years."

Your hand rests on his jaw, giving him a kiss before smiling at him. "You don't need to thank me, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat but.. if you do wanna thank me, you can buy that purse I liked."

"Show me when we get back, you can take my card and order it."

"I was joking," you look at him, and Seb shrugs. "It's the least I can do to thank you for being the perfect wife."

"It's easy to do when I have the perfect husband," you smile, kissing him again. There's a knock on the door, causing you both to look in the direction of it.

"When the two of you are done being perfect, you're needed for press, Sebastian." Britt's voice from the other side of the door, making you both laugh.

Seb gives you one last kiss before grabbing his shirt, "I'm coming!" He calls to her, pulling it on. He was on his way out but you stopped him, grabbing his hand.

He turns back, looking at you as he waits to see what you wanted. "I'm proud of you, no matter what," you tell him.

Seb nods, smiling at you. "I love you."

---

taglist: @dragon-of-winterfell @benedictscanvas @elisaa-shelby @hnmaga-blog @czechoslovakiandisco @dr3lover @troybolton14 @Lovingroscoee @compulsiveshit @somanyfandomsbruh @damnyoulifee @barzysreputation @vickyofalltrades @yeolsbubbles @barzysreputation @thybulleric @valkyrie418 @ricsaigaslec @idkiwantchocolatee @sessgjarg @molliemoo3 @bisexual-desi @sunf1owerrq @alwaysclassyeagle @coldmuffinbanditshoe @sillybananamaker and @oconso cause she was fucking with the preview I sent her

[philokaliist]

HIII CAN YOU PLS DO ANOTHER CLARISSE X FEM READER FIC? Clarisse brainrot rn. Okay so imagine like she sees ur bf cheating and she tells u but u knew but stayed w him bc u thought nobody else would want u and u loved him BUT SHE WANTSBU WJSJSSJ AND LIKE ITS SO CUTE IDK I HOPE THIS IS CLEAR I LOVE UR FICS SM!! TY IF U DO THIS REQUESTTT 😭

'Promises'

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

A/N:Hi lovely!Tysm for requesting!!Yes I can try!I haven't written anything similar to this yet but I'll do my best! <3

Clarisse sees your boyfriend cheat on you - and she tells you,but you knew - and somehow it ends up with you two kissing.

As you sat beneath a tree,enjoying the peace and quiet of the rather reserved area you were in - which was relatively empty at that moment,for Clarisse it was a whole another story,as she observed from a distance.She saw your boyfriend this morning,his actions betraying the trust you had bestowed upon him.Silently, she approached, her presence unnoticed but her fury visible.

Clarisse cleared her throat, and you turned to face her.

"Hey.I saw something." she said, her tone unusually calm. "Your boyfriend...well,soon to be ex,he's cheatin' on you."

She was trying her hardest to not cuss the hell out of the guy right now.

Your heart sank, but you managed a weak smile, feigning ignorance. "What? No, that can't be true."

Clarisse grumbled, her eyes sharp. "I saw it,you know? and I sure as hell ain't blind.You deserved to know."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you just couldn't hold back the pain any longer. "I knew," you confessed,looking down. "I just couldn't bring myself to face it. I love him, and I don't think anyone else would want me."

Clarisse was genuinely surprised by this as she spoke "How can you love him when he treats you like you don't even exist?Why settle for someone who doesn't appreciate you?" she said, her gaze unwavering.

You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I just... I don't know if I can let go. I love him too much."

Clarisse, though still pissed off - couldn't fathom why you'd subject yourself to this and take so much pain. "What if someone does want you?" she questioned.

Your response was a broken whisper, "No one would want me. I'm not worth it - and I guess he just proved it by cheating that I wasn't enough to satisfy him so..."

Frustration crossed Clarisse's face as she stepped closer, her hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "What if I want you?" she asked, her voice low.

You looked up, disbelief in your eyes as you struggled to process what she just said. "But...I'm just...I don't know..I'm just me.I'm not special."

Clarisse's patience wore thin. "Enough with the self-pity. You're worth more than you think."

But as you continued to express your uncertainty,Clarisse,unable to tolerate it any longer,pressed her lips against yours. The kiss was unexpected, yet surprisingly comforting.It held a mixture of understanding and a promise of something more.

Breaking the kiss, Clarisse looked into your eyes,wiping your tears away with her thumb "Don't sell yourself short,pretty girl.You deserve more than an asshole who cheats on you.You're worth more than you think, and I'll be damned if I'm letting you settle for less,because get this through your pretty little head - never and I mean never will I do that.Besides,I'll never cheat on you.." she spoke as she continued to gently cup your cheek as her fingers caressed it gently,and you knew she was was sincere.This wasn't just any random thing she just said like that - as many of her random ramblings were - it was a promise,and everyone knows Clarisse La Rue always keeps her promises.

[gingernut1314]

Just thinking about how...

Gojo is the epitome of the “don’t rush me, Katie. I’m--just not ready.” audio going around Tiktok from Monsters vs. Aliens.

He’s cocky and smug and teasing but as soon as your hands start moving down his strong torso, fingers nimbly beginning to unbutton his pants he’s going to become the biggest nervous wreck you’ve ever seen.

Why?

Thank you for asking I will elaborate. 

I personally believe he’s only been with a small handful of people intimately. 

Most sorcerers view him as this untouchable weapon that they want to use and control. 

Its also my belief that a lot of sorcerers might be too scared of him to even try to approach him in that way if at all. 

Non-sorcerers are an opinion I think he probably explored once but after that once never went back because non-sorcerers and him are just too different. 

Sorcerers and him are just too different. 

There was only one person in his life who understood--who wasn’t too different, but that person turned into a mass-murdering cult leader. 

Gojo wants people to think he’s this super charming sex god. 

When in reality he spends half his time outside of work locked in his room, listening to sad-girl music and shoving his face full of sweets while he continues to think about and pine after Geto. 

I half think he wouldn’t even want to know the person's name.

But the other half of me thinks he would want to know your favorite color and the name of your first pet before he even thinks about going to the bedroom with you.

Honestly, I think Gojo’s walls, while very flashy and fun, are very tall and very thick and it takes a lot to even get a peek behind them.

He’s been treated differently his whole life. 

Treated poorly because most think words couldn't possibly hurt him.

And on top of all that, had his heart broken by someone he cared for and trust deeply.

So being intimate with someone is something I think he struggles with. 

A “do they just want to sleep with me cause I’m the strongest” and “What if I get attached” mindset type of guy. 

Gojo was hesitant to get into a serious relationship with you.

You had to fight tooth and nail for a long time to win a place in his heart.

So when you feel his muscles tense and hear him begin to talk on and on about literally anything and everything under the sun, you take a pause. 

Give him a comforting space to talk about his fears and anxieties. 

If you care about him even a smidge, and you care about him so much it hurts, you’ll let him initiate.

You’ll wait for him to be ready and when he is I pinky promise it’ll have been worth it.

[stormhearty]

Pairings: Former Rhysand x Reader, Feysand, Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Triggers: mentions of depression, relapse, attempts at suicide

Summary: It has been two decades since you left Night Court, leaving the life you had always known. It had been five years since you were in Dawn Court, slowly healing with the help of its High Lord. Now, you had resided in Summer Court, Tarquin by your side through your healing process. But when a mating bond snaps between the two of you when your health turns for the worse, how would you process something that you never thought would happen in your immortal life? And when you decide to confront your former family, would you forgive them for their past discretions? The story of the aftermath of your broken heart of glass.

Note: From this request! Thank you so much for wanting a second part to “Breaking Like Glass”!! I love that everyone enjoyed that fic’s immense angst, so I will gladly give you guys the fluff, romance, and healing the reader needs. And I do hope this isn’t cheesy. I struggled a bit on writing this, whether to debate to make it angsty, but I feel like, it has enough of the balance. Please do enjoy!

Breaking Like Glass | Masterlist

“You know, my stardust, you don't have to do this… We can have our mating ceremony with our family. We don't have to invite Night Court…”

You let out a thoughtful hum as you lounged in one of the lounging chairs in Tarquin’s office, book in hand. You placed a finger on your page before looking over your shoulder at the High Lord of Summer, who looked at you with concern etched on his beautiful features.

After centuries of being with Rhysand, you had always thought that you would be content in not finding your mate. You had thought, and wished, that you would have eternity with the High Lord of Night Court. However, with the fiasco two decades ago, all you wanted to do was heal — fix your broken heart and mind from your torture from Under the Mountain, to fix your broken soul from being ripped apart by your family. You did not want to fall in love — you didn’t want to give your taped-up heart to someone and be worried about having it torn apart again.

You had safe-guarded your heart behind high, metal walls with a fog of darkness to protect it — to protect you from breaking all over again, and losing yourself once more.

But what you had never dreamed of was a mating bond to snap.

And you never thought it would be with another High Lord.

The very moment you had stepped into Summer soil, Tarquin had been nothing but kind and gentle, helping you through your decade of healing. He allowed you to take your time — he allowed you to wallow, he allowed you to be silent, he allowed you to grieve, something that you never were able to do while you were in Valeris. He allowed you to cry in anguish, he allowed you to cry in pain — he allowed the forty-nine years of suffering to seep out of your aching body. And he was silently there, beside you, watching over you… to ensure you were safe and well cared for while you did.

And that was all you could have wished for while you were healing. You didn’t need words, you didn’t need condolences… Tarquin allowed you to heal in the way that your heart and mind needed.

All the while Tarquin healed your broken soul that came upon the betrayal from Night Court, you would be sent back to Dawn Court to mend your mind and body from the tortures of the Attor. The two High Lords worked in tandem with one another… all for you. Both Tarquin and Thesan realized your worth, both realized your importance and believed it was worth their power and time to heal you.

It had been five years since you came from Dawn Court when the mating bond snapped between you and Tarquin.

It was when your nightmares had resurrected themselves from the grave, haunting you thoroughly to the point you had relapsed back from your progress.

You had screamed and clawed against everything that had neared you, your eyes frantic at the absolute fear and dread of returning to that moment in your life — the pain of the Attor and betrayal of your husband, that still lurked in the darkness of your fear. You had hurt yourself, multiple times during that relapse — skin broken with knives, daggers, broken glass — anything that your hands got to… hoping for the pain to seep out of your skin.

But Tarquin was there through all of that — grabbing and hiding everything that you could try to hurt yourself with. He fought tooth and nail to get to you, whispering sweet nothings — that you were worth it, you were worth the pain and anguish, that you were worth everything. And that you would get through the pain — and that he’d be right beside you through it.

You couldn’t feel it, the glow of the mating bond between the two of you — for you were too shrouded in your fear to notice.

All the while, Tarquin felt every emotion you had felt — the despair, the anguish, the pain that wracked your body. He fought back all the tears as he held you against him, pouring as much care and love through the newly found bond.

The relapse had taken an immense hit on your health — you were sick for weeks on end, going in and out of consciousness barely able to make out who had been taking care of you.

When you had been well enough, you had learned that Tarquin, himself, had been the one to care for you during your illness. And you, though you shouldn’t have been, was surprised at that fact. The High Lord of Summer Court took time away from his busy schedule to tend to you. He had owed you nothing… and yet he had taken time to care for you.

“Why did you do that…?” you had asked, storming into his office, pausing mid-step when you had seen Thesan and the Captain in the room. It seemed that you had interrupted an important meeting between the two High Lords — possibly about your condition.

Tarquin looked at you for a moment, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he looked at Thesan and gave him an apologetic nod of his head. Thesan glanced between the two of you before standing up from his seat on the plush couch and heading your way. The High Lord of Dawn smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss onto the crown of your head, “Hello, my child… be nice to him…”

The request was confusing to you as you allowed the High Lord and Captain to step out of the room, the click of the door resonating behind you — leaving you and Tarquin alone in that grand room. The atmosphere grew awkward and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip, you glanced everywhere besides the High Lord, and you heard him let out a chuckle.

You frowned, glaring at him slightly before watching him stand up and walk towards you, reaching out a hand for you to hold, “We have much to talk about, (Y/N)…” he murmured.

You stared at his hand, sighing softly before reaching over to place you had on top of his. His had always radiated warmth that you seemed to want to grasp onto often — it was warm and inviting, much like the summer sun he had ruled over. You followed him further into his office, walking past his desk and onto the large balcony overviewing his Court. There was a large settee that Tarquin led you to, sitting you down before he sat next to you, leaving a gap between both of you.

“Now… What was it you were saying, (Y/N)? About why I did that?” he questioned, turquoise hues staring at the massive land of his Court, allowing the summer breeze to greet the two of you.

Relaxing against the settee, you remained quiet for a few moments, eyes fluttering close at the breeze that tickled your skin. When you opened your eyes once more and turned your attention to the High Lord, you were slightly startled when you noticed he was staring at you — something in his eyes sparkling that you were unsure of… or slightly denied.

“…Why did you take care of me when I was ill?” you asked him, not bothering to beat around the bush, “You didn’t owe me anything, this… arrangement between us is only until I get better and can move on from my nightmares—”

“When did I say that this… arrangement is only until you get better?” he interrupted you with a raised brow, “I did not say anything like that. I am allowing you to stay until you want to leave… I’m giving you the choice to stay and to heal the way you need, unlike your time in Night Court. And, I took care of you because I wanted to, (Y/N). I couldn’t let you hurt yourself like you did, to be so haunted by your nightmares every waking second… I couldn’t let you suffer the way Rhysand let you for all those months…”

You flinched at the name of your former husband. It still ached — no matter how long it had been, it still ached hearing his name. Usually, Tarquin and Thesan avoided saying his name around you, both afraid of a possible relapse. You let out a shaky breath, as your eyes stared at something beyond him, a distant stare — feeling yourself move out of your body, a sensation that had started to become normal for you ever since you were in Dawn Court.

Feeling Tarquin’s warmth again, you blinked twice before focusing on him again a small smile tugged on your lips, and shook your head, “…I’m fine…” you whispered, head tilting down to look at your intertwined hands. You took deep breaths, something that Thesan had taught you after your moments of distance.

Tug, tug… you felt something in your chest. Your head tilted in confusion until you felt it again — tug, tug… You lifted your head and looked at the High Lord once more. You saw a twinkle in those turquoise hues, a hopeful look hidden within those depths.

“…What…” you muttered in disbelief, and you felt another tug in your chest.

“You felt it, did you not, (Y/N)?” Tarquin questioned, leaning forward slightly, warm hands gently gripping yours — as if preventing you from running away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head, too scared for any words to escape you.

How could a mating bond happen? After everything that happened to you, your mind and body were broken, being held together by pieces of tape held together by Tarquin and Thesan — you could barely hold yourself together. Your healing process for the past fifteen years was slow, and there were many times when you believed you would never be okay again. How can someone like you be mated to another High Lord? How can someone as broken as you be another leader of a Court?

Thoughts of insecurities passed through your mind, unknowingly sending them down the newly formed bond. You were startled out of your thought by Tarquin’s hand gently caressing your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“You do not have to accept the mating bond, as of yet, (Y/N)… I will wait, you can heal. Just know that I accept you, even if you are broken and torn. You still have years of healing to do, but I will be by your side — always.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as he shifted closer, pressing his hands on your cheeks to wipe them away. All you can do is nod. Allowing the love and warmth of the bond to slowly heal you.

It had been another five years since then. A little over two decades after you left Night Court to accept the bond. For five years, Tarquin had courted you, cared for you… loved you the way you needed. He did not force anything onto you and allowed you to fall in love with him in such a natural way that it felt second nature to you.

“…(Y/N)…” your mate called out to you, snapping out of your trance.

You blinked and refocused on the present, eyes focusing on Tarquin who had moved from his spot at his desk to you, hands rubbing your shoulders. Tilting your head back, you gave him a smile, reaching up with your free hand to reach up to run your fingers against his cheek as he looked down at you.

“No… I would like to invite them. I think… I need closure from my time there. And…” there was hesitance in your voice at the next words, “I do miss them. I lived with them for centuries, and all of a sudden I cut them off my life for a good reason… there are times when I missed them.”

Tarquin hummed understandingly as he squeezed your shoulders, “Understandable. We will invite them… But I worry—-”

“—- I won’t relapse. I promise…” you moved from your lounging position to sitting up, shifting so you were on your knees, at eye level with him. You felt him wrap his arm around your waist so you were steady as your hands placed themselves on his biceps, playing around with the fabric of his outfit, “I’m better — well, as best I can be — but I know you’ll be there… I will be fine.”

There was reluctance in his features, those turquoise hues trying to find any lie in your words before he gave you a nod.

“I concede…” he murmured and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the hesitancy in his words. Pressing a gentle kiss on the High Lord’s cheek, murmuring a thank you before moving back to your position on the lounge chair, picking up your book once more.

You looked back up to just miss the shake of his head, before he wrapped a hand around your neck, tilting your head up so he could lean down to press a kiss on your lips, “After our mating ceremony, I wish for you to initiate our kisses, my stardust…”

Feeling the warmth of your cheeks you stared up at him, “If that is the wish of my High Lord, then it shall happen…”

He let out a low chuckle before pressing another kiss on your lips, your book forgotten on your lap.

The ceremony venue was extravagant, to say the least — Tarquin, as well as Thesan from what you had gathered, pulled all the stops. The throne room of Summer Court was flourishing with flowers and the summer sun radiating down through all the large windows.

You were a nervous mess sitting in your room. It was still several hours before the ceremony, that you weren’t too nervous for; it was the fact that you were going to meet your old family once more.

The Captain of Dawn, your dear friend, had informed you that the Inner Circle just arrived at the outskirts of Summer Court. And that set off your nerves completely.

You had requested, when you had sent the letter to Night Court, to meet with them before your ceremony — to officially close the wounds between all of you.

And so when a knock startled you out of your worries, you turned around in your chair from your vanity where you were getting ready. Watching those doors open to reveal your old family.

There stood Rhysand, in his Night Court attire along with Feyre, who was at his side. There was a pang in your chest, the pain of their betrayal somehow festering its way back into your heart. But it was slowly soothed out by the warmth of the mating bond that Tarquin seemed to have sent your way. The doors closed behind the Inner Circle, and you noticed the Captain of Dawn stationed at the door.

Thesan’s lover is quite a busybody isn’t he…? You had sent down the bond to your mate. And all you felt was Tarquin’s chuckle as you focused back on the now.

You slowly stood up, a small smile on your features before you watched from the corner of your eye Mor heading to a sprint and giving you the biggest hug.

“… I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…” she apologized, the words repeating on her lips as she squeezed you, burying her head into your neck.

Tears pricked the edge of your eyes as your arms wrapped around her and you buried your head to the crook of her neck, letting the blond curls tickle your face.

“… Mor…” you whined her name.

A sob wracked through the blonde’s body, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That you’re better…” she whispered before pulling back and staring at you, “I’m glad you found your mate. I’m glad that he’s making you happy — that you deserve happiness — after all the shit you went through and everything we had put you under…”

You smiled at her as you felt her cup your cheeks, nodding your head, “… — Thank you, Mor. I’m glad to see you again, truly. I missed you so much…”

A smile tugged on Mor’s features, “We will see each other more… if you let us.”

You nodded your head as she stepped away, allowing the rest of the Inner Court to greet you — hugging you and whispering their utmost apologies and congratulations.

Cassian had lifted you into his arms, something he used to do often when you were his Lady still, giving you a spin, “You will always be my Lady, (Y/N)…” he whispered into your ears, pressing a kiss against your cheek before literally handing you off to Azriel.

A giggle escaped your lips as you hugged the Spymaster as he pressed a kiss on your opposite cheek, “We will forever live with the regret of losing you…” Azriel hummed out, “We had and always will love you… But I wish for nothing but happiness for you…”

Your heart flourished at the words of your former family — the words that you had wished to hear two decades ago — slowly piecing your heart and soul back together. You had known, while you were healing, that they had always cared for you and that never meant to put so much pressure on you, unknowing of your nightmares and struggles after being Under the Mountain.

When you were settled back onto your feet, you turned to face Rhysand. The tension between the two of you was still high and you fought back all the urge to just run away from this confrontation between the two of you. You gave him a small smile before focusing your attention on Feyre who stepped up, reaching out to hold your hands.

“I am truly sorry…” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours.

You understood why Rhysand fell in love with Feyre. You had heard of the great deeds she had done for Night Court, for Prythian… she was something you could never have been next to Rhysand. The true High Lady of Night Court.

And somehow, you were okay with it.

Shaking your head, you looked at the High Lady, “…You were just following the feeling of the mating bond. Like I said that night, I cannot fault you for choosing your mate. I cannot fault you for following the tug… I — I would like to extend my congratulations —-”

Feyre shook her head, brows knitting at your words, “Do not, please. I will not accept that not when I have unknowingly broken you along with the rest of your family. ”

You looked at her, nodding your head as you felt her step back and the familiar scent and presence of your former husband taking her place. You lifted your eyes to look into violet ones — ones that sparkled with regret, ones that you were in love with for so long.

Even if it was two decades that passed, you felt like you were still in sync with him, knowing what he wanted. Turning onto your heels, you made your way to one of the furthest balconies, Rhysand following your steps. The large window doors closed behind you, leaving both of you in a pocket of privacy away from prying ears. You could see, from the corner of your eye, the Captain making his way closer to the doors and all you could do was hold a hand up — signaling that you were fine and safe.

Turning back around, you focused on Rhysand who’s eyes were solely on you. Stepping past him, you made your way to the railing, pressing your hands on the warm marble, as you basked in the summer sun.

“(Y/N)…” Rhysand whispered one that was so quiet that the wind barely was able to carry it to your sensitive ears.

“I… I cannot forgive you, Rhysand…” you declared, eyes still closed as you let the warmth of your new home wash over you, to comfort you as you confront your past, “I cannot and do not fault you for choosing her. I can see why you had fallen for her — she’s beautiful, both inside and out. But I cannot forgive you for it. You had broken me so much, that there were many times during my healing that I wondered why I wasn’t enough for you to choose me. Wondering what I have done to make you choose someone else other than your wife who stood next to you for centuries.”

You could hear the shaky breath that Rhysand exhaled as you felt him stand next to you on the balcony.

You couldn’t look at him, every fiber in your body shaking to break again if you looked at him. You needed to be strong — for yourself and for the people around you who worried immensely for your health.

“I know… I know you would never forgive me, (Y/N). I have accepted that truth… I just wish things ended differently, you know? I wanted to let you know, that there was not a moment in our centuries together as husband and wife that I wished you were my mate… that there was not a moment that I did not love you…”

A broken laugh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes and looked up at him once more, seeing those unshed tears in violet hues.

“… And there was not a time where I wished you were my mate… But it seems that Mother had a different path for both of us. One that led us away from each other.”

You reached up, with shaky hands, and attempted to touch him; however, your body paused, and with furrowed brows, you dropped your hand back onto your side. You could see Rhysand’s body slouched slightly as if missing your touch. A forced smile tugged onto your lips as you stepped back, creating a significant distance between the two of you, “… I hope you enjoy the ceremony, Rhysand…”

He knew when he was dismissed and he smiled at you before stepping out of the balcony. You watched with longing and pain as he and the Inner Court stepped out of your room.

“… Probably it wasn’t such a good idea to have the two of you alone together…” The Captain commented, stepping onto the balcony, worry in his tone.

“I’m fine… just give me a moment…” you whispered, pressing a hand against your chest, to calm down your heart. You slouched against the railing for a few minutes, feeling the bond in your chest to help your racing heart.

“…Do you need me—-”

“No… I don’t need Tarquin or Thesan right now. They’re in their own state of panic already…”

The Captain let out a chuckle, “That is true… They have set their mind to ensure that this ceremony would be perfect…”

After calming your heart, you straightened up and gave the Captain a light smirk, “…Busybodies the lot of them…” You stepped back into your room, allowing yourself to fix yourself up before the ceremony, the Captain following your trail.

You stood on the dias of the throne room, Tarquin by your side as the priestess started the ceremony. Your gown was a lovely mixture of blue, much like the oceans that crashed below the castle. The priestess’ words had gone deaf in your ears as all you could do was stare up at the High Lord of Summer, love and affection in your features as well as through the bond.

When the priestess had asked for the two of you to exchange vows, Tarquin looked at you with the same look as you did to him, a soft smile on his features.

“Never in my life, I would have thought to find my mate. I had thought that I would rule my Court without a High Lady by my side. But that fateful day I had whisked you away from Thesan and Dawn Court, all I had wished was for you to be mine.

“My stardust…” the nickname always made your heart skip in your chest, “I had fallen in love with you… despite your broken soul and heart. I was honored that you had trusted me enough to help mend your soul from the nightmares that haunted you, and that still haunt you till this day. But I couldn’t let you know of my affections, not when you had set yourself into healing. So I waited, waited for years and when that mating bond snapped, I knew I couldn’t hold out for much longer. I needed you in my arms, I needed to have your eyes set on me — rather than looking into your past. And when you had your relapse… I had to let you know. I had to let you know that you have someone, your mate, to be with you every step of your healing process.”

You felt tears trickle down your cheeks as Tarquin wiped them away, “You deserve this bond after everything that you have been through… the Mother has gifted you this bond. And I am honored to be at the end of that string.”

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn’t even find the words for your own vows. All you could mutter to him as he pressed his forehead against yours, “Thank you… I love you, I thank you, and I am also honored and blessed by the Cauldron to have you as my mate. Thank you for mending my heart. I am glad to give it to you, and not worry about it breaking…”

You watched through a tearful gaze, Tarquin giving you a radiant smile before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, “And I would never break it… not your heart that is precious like gemstones…”

You laughed as applause reached your ears, leaning up once more to kiss your mate.

Your heart was safe — mended together once more — and you knew it would never break again.

Tagging list: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @abysshaven @prythianpages @leahoneil @rachelnicolee

[tan1shere]

Slumber Party pt 3

A/n: hey everyone, sorry this has taken awhile I wanted to make it extra special for you all. Hope it was worth the wait, my requests are open for any other stories you may want! (Please I'm begging 😭) possibly the last part! Not too sure yet but regardless. Enjoy !

Masterlist

Summary: like the song slumber party. Ellie thinks she can treat you better then your shitty girlfriend.

Warnings: Dom Ellie, she's kinda soft but not really- smoking, high Ellie (just a lil bit) protective Ellie

Its not like you were sneaking around when Isabel got back. Because Ellie had told you, she texted Isabel. At first you were really worried, scared even. But that feeling soon left, you started to not give a fuck. Your feelings for Ellie much too strong to worry about Isabel, any longer. And you indeed took up Ellies offer. But like most things in your life. It came with a price.

You were deciding to pack when Isabel was at work. You didn't have too much stuff of your own, most of it was hers. So it was easily hidden when she got back home. You had no idea how to approach even telling her that you were leaving. Should you just go? Spare the broken bones and possible tears? You say you don't give a fuck, but you know with how you are that's a lie. You feel too much, your feelings can be way too overpowering. So you landed on leaving without any notice.

Since she broke your phone, there was no way of contacting. She didn't know where Ellie lived so she couldn't search out to find you. You'd leave tomorrow... Or maybe the next day. You sigh sitting on the bed. You couldn't tell what was holding you back so much. Was it fear? Was it comfort? You shake your head. That couldn't be it, you hated this place. Regardless of when you'd probably do it during the day when she's at work. You did however have a backup phone that she didn't know about. You wanted to keep in contact with Ellie. That night you two had was one you couldn't ever forget. It made you more needier for her. You wanted her forever. Suddenly you hear your phone go off on the secret phone.

This made your brain go even more fuzzy. The fact you had just been thinking about her.. the fact she's high right now. You so wanted to be around her when she was like that. You think about it more. How her beautiful eyes would be droopy, and a lil red. You think back to her in the white wife beater and you feel yourself clench your thighs together. You can't get distracted. Oh but how you needed her so badly.

The day has come. You had finally finished packing. Isabel was at work so this was the perfect time to leave.. So you thought. As you were carrying your duffle bag to the front door. Your met with those same eyes. The same terrifying ones you hate. You widen your eyes and gulp. Frozen to the floor. You stand there unable to process why the hell she's home already. She looks at you starting to look furious. You don't get why, if she hates you so much why can't she just let you go. But that's the thing. She hated you, she wanted you so she could ruin your life. Ruin your happiness. You then regain composure, going to sternly push past her. She grabs your arm firmly.

"Now where the fuck. Do you think you're leaving to." You glare at her, for the first time, letting your anger overtake the sadness. "None of your business." You spat. Still giving her the same look. "You're off to hers aren't you." You don't say anything. You honestly don't know how to respond. But you're cut short with the conversation when Ellie pulls up. You and Isabel both look outside, seeing her car pull to a stop. You try and get out of Isabels tight hold, knowing you're safe now as she can't lay even a finger on you, having Ellie as a witness. Although if you're being truthful, you don't think Isabel would give a shit.

Ellie gets out coming over to you guys. Thankfully Ellie was taller then the both of you, making it more intimidating. Isabel was hesitant to let you go, but she nonetheless does. You go impossibly closer to Ellie. Wondering just how this was going to play out. "Dont think about trying to follow us. Nor contacting her. I've been easy on you for her sake but I will quite literally kill you if you come anywhere near her, ever. Again." Isabel let's out a huff, going back inside and slamming the door. It's over.... You're free.

"You can put the rest in my roo-" Ellie begins to speak but you cut her off, grabbing her shirt and kissing her. "I need you." You say slightly out of breath. She was bewildered at first, but regardless, she picks you up, taking you to her room and gently putting you down on the bed. She begins to strip you of your clothes, just as eager. "I've been waiting all day, just so I can have you." She spoke softly, yet a slight roughness was added to her tone. Shes driving you crazy. "Fuck I needed this all day yesterday. Was even touching myself thinking about you." That sent you over the borderline of crazy. That sent you ballistic. The thought of Ellie high. Touching herself to the thought of you. You could've just came from the thought.

You just can't believe that you're here with her. In these circumstances. Your childhood best friend. Your secret little crush from way back. "I want you to take me Ellie. Make me yours. Forever." You blurt out. Ellie then wasted no time coming down to your thighs, gripping them tight. Which made you to clench them at the feeling of her soft hands. Causing her to feel your sopping wet underwear. Making her groan with anticipation. She rips them open wasting absolutely no time at all. "Promise to buy you another pair. Fuck.. I'll buy you a whole set." She leans down but before she does anything. She pauses. You whine. "Ellie please. I want your tongue so badly.." You let out a breath as you can feel hers, warm and amazing, fanning over your cunt.

"That's a want princess. Not a need. I don't think you truly need this. Or do you angel." She was teasing, and it was tearing you up inside. "I need it. Need your amazing tongue to fuck into me. Need it desperately Els I crave it." She rolls her eyes back, leaning down immediately. Eating you. Devouring you. This felt like another universe of ecstasy. It felt so unreal. But it was very real. Her pumping her amazing tongue in and out of you. At a relentless pace. "Fuck.. you taste so good I could eat you for breakfast lunch and dinner." She purrs against you, never stopping even when she spoke.

"Th-that can be arranged." You pant like a dog who needs water. Arching your back at this euphoric feeling. Sending you into overdrive. She gently moves her hand up to your breasts. Squeezing with ease. You let out a sharp moan, letting your head rest back into the pillows. "Come on angel. Wanna taste your sweetness. Squirt in my mouth baby." Feeling the tightness in your lower stomach again, you do just that. Making it shoot down the back of her throat. She swallows it with pure pleasure. She was so incredibly pussy drunk, it was insane. You were just the same, feeling fucked out and only from her tongue. What couldn't this woman do.

But you were pulled out of your thoughts when you suddenly heard a belt buckle, and it being thrown onto the floor. You blinked a few times to regain your consciousness. But that was soon gone again as she fucks into you. Hard, and fast. You let out a gasp, it slowly turning into a moan. One only heard by porn stars. You grip the sheets, tightly. Feeling her relentlessly fuck into you. It was truly heaven. To think you could've been with her this whole time. She actually cares for you. Wants you. She.. wants, you. You still couldn't believe it. She grips your hips tightly as she speeds up a bit more, making you scream out her name.

"She would, never. Fuck you, like I do. She'd never know your body. Like I do. She'd never be able to make you cum in under 5 minutes. Like. I. Do." You bite your lip. Holding back the most craziest of sounds. "Did she ever make you feel this way angel? Ever?" You arch your back yet again, wanting more. If that was even possible. You let out little whimpers. "Fuck you make me so crazy. You're so fucking precious. Like a real life angel. Gunna protect you from now on. No one. Will. Ever. Hurt you." She leans down to the skin of your neck going to suck, hard. You let out breaths as both the feeling of her mouth and strap. She hums against your skin.

"You. Are. Mine." She keeps marking your skin. Worshipping you. She's so madly inlove with you she can't think straight. "Come on baby.. want you to cum.. desperate for it. Want you to milk it. Show that I'm yours too. No one else gets this strap but you angel. Claim it." And you fucking claimed it alright. Cumming with so much pleasure running through your body. It was indescribable. Just how intense it was. She even came a bit, watching her girl unravel under her control. Makes her wild. You let out breaths, feeling sweaty, and tired.

She pulls out, taking it off and setting it aside. "Mine now?" You breathe out. "Yours now angel. All yours." She kisses your temple and lays with you. Bringing you close. And for the first time in what felt like forever. You felt safe.. content. You felt at home, in the arms of your future wife.

A/n: I'm so sorry if this is awful lovelies :( I had to restart cuz I accidentally got rid of some of my best work. So it's not the best. I hope you guys enjoy it tho! Much love <3

[elryuse]

*cough cough* yandere Lily showing you the wedding band meaning you're her husband now. can I request a yandere ex-gf Lily?

Dangerous Melody!

YANDERE LILY X MALE READER

The faint smell of bleach stung Lily's nostrils, a counterpoint to the metallic tang that clung to the worn chopping board. She stared down at the discarded blonde hair, the vibrant color now a dull, lifeless mess, mirroring the hollowness that gnawed at her. Minnie, another pretty face removed from the equation.

Lily used to mock Y/n's obsession with K-Pop. Now, she was the one consumed by it, living through his memories, fueled by a twisted jealousy that had curdled into a horrifying obsession. Y/n, her Y/n, the nerdy guy who used to stammer compliments about her singing voice, was now a rising star. He was surrounded by a glittering constellation of K-Pop idols - (G)-Idle, Kep1er, ITZY - each a potential threat.

The initial thrill of revenge, of watching them fall one by one - a "clumsy" fall for Miyeon, a "sudden illness" for Chaeryeong - had morphed into a chilling emptiness. The closer they got to Y/n, the further he seemed to drift, withdrawing from the public eye, a ghost haunted by fame.

One rainy night, Lily found herself huddled in a doorway opposite Y/n's old apartment. She'd become a stalker, her once carefully curated social media presence abandoned, her life consumed by the flickering glow of his window.

A lone figure emerged, his silhouette obscured by the downpour. He moved with the slumped shoulders of a defeated man, the rain blurring the lines of his tear-streaked face. Y/n. Her Y/n, a broken shell of the boy she used to know.

Anger, raw and hot, pulsed through her veins. All this suffering, all this scheming, for a man who didn't even fight for her? He wasn't worth the effort, the thrill of the chase. But a cold, unsettling voice whispered in the back of her mind – he was hers. He'd always been hers.

The next morning, Lily stood before his building, a manic glint in her normally cool blue eyes. The security guard, a young man who'd always fawned over her fleeting visits, stammered in surprise.

"Miss Lily? But Mr. Y/n doesn't want guests."

Lily's lips curved into a chilling smile. "He doesn't have a choice anymore, does he?"

The fear in the guard's eyes was a balm to her frayed nerves. Her fingers closed around the handle of a heavy duffel bag, its contents a terrifying promise.

Y/n didn't notice the rustle of movement outside his window until a bloodcurdling scream pierced the night. He threw it open, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Lily, her face streaked with a mixture of rain and something much redder.

"Lily?" He whispered, his voice thick with terror. "What… what have you done?"

Her smile was predatory, devoid of any warmth. "Oh, Y/n," she purred, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "Just making sure there are no more distractions. Now, come here."

Before he could react, Lily lunged, dragging a rusty chain with shackles from her bag. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so petite, the cold metal biting into his skin as she secured them.

"We'll be together again," she crooned, her voice a chilling melody. "Forever this time."

He struggled against the restraints, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and loathing. "Lily, no! You're insane!"

"Insane? Perhaps," she conceded, her eyes glinting with a terrifying amusement. "But only for you, my love."

Ignoring his pleas, she hoisted him onto her shoulder, his screams swallowed by the sounds of the rain. The once vibrant city lights blurred past in a dizzying kaleidoscope, a cruel reminder of the life he was being ripped away from.

Their destination – a secluded cabin nestled deep in the woods, a place she'd inherited from a distant relative. There, in the heart of isolation, a twisted love story bloomed. A love bound by fear and obsession, where Y/n became Lily's captive, a broken idol trapped in a gilded cage of her own making.

The K-Pop world mourned their missing star, whispers of foul play turning into cold acceptance. But for Y/n, trapped in the suffocating darkness of their love-turned-prison, there was no more music, no more fans. Only the horrifying reality of his ex-lover, now a monster, and the chilling words that echoed through the lonely cabin: "Forever, Y/n. Forever with me."

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

Do you guys want a snippet from the wingfic?

That's a silly question, of course you do!

--

The way he fidgeted anxiously made Lando want to bundle him up into a permanent comforting hug. “D-do you . . .” he stammered nervously. “D-doesn’t it bother you that . . . th-that I don’t show my w-wings to you?”

Lando’s suspicions had been right. Every now and then, this topic reared its head, sometimes at unexpected moments. Any sort of wing talk was more likely to bring it out. Martijn had a lot of hidden insecurity about his wings, probably more than Lando was fully aware of. He always got incredibly anxious when asked by anyone about the mystery of his wings, yet simultaneously seemed to feel guilty for hiding them. It was the one thing that could dim his sunny disposition.

Lando really wanted to know who had hurt him so much and make them pay for it. How could anyone or anything make him so scared to show his wings? They could be covered in scraggly feathers or be nothing more than broken nubs, and Lando would still think they were perfect, because they were Martijn’s. How could anyone ever think otherwise?

Gently, Lando stepped forward and clasped Martijn's hands, setting the dust cloth aside. He refrained from extending his wings around him protectively – sometimes, when Martijn got like this about his own wings, the weight of someone else's around him could be too much.

“I have never, ever cared what your wings are like, Marty” he said softly. “Of course I'd love to see them and take care of them the way you do mine, but they're your wings, not mine. You have your reasons not to show them, and that's okay.”

Martijn looked up timidly. “You promise?” he whispered.

“I promise,” Lando swore. “If you ever do want to show them, I promise it will never change how much I love you. But even if you don't . . .” he tilted closer, touching a light kiss to Martijn's cheek, “I'll still love you just as much as ever.”

Martijn sniffled softly, leaning closer. “Even if . . . they weren't perfect?”

Lando smiled, planting a proper kiss on Martijn's mouth. “They don't have to be,” he said. “You already are perfect.”

Martijn finally smiled back, weak and wobbly, but it was a smile. He stepped a bit closer and tucked his head into the crook of Lando's neck, an unspoken message that he was ready for a proper wing hug now. Lando happily obliged, tucking his white wings around Martijn until he was safe in a cocoon of feathers. He slid his hand gently up his back until he could rub between his shoulder blades, where he knew Martijn carried a faint, persistent ache from keeping his wings consistently hidden. There was tension there now, tension that Lando carefully melted away with each press of his fingers.

He hoped Martijn knew how earnestly he was telling the truth. The first time he'd innocently asked Martijn why he hid his wings, back when they had just become an official couple, Martijn had frozen in pure anxiety and fear. It had taken a whole night of hugging and soothing him to reassure him that Lando didn't hate him for hiding his wings. He'd just been curious. But satisfying his own curiosity wasn't worth poking at what was clearly a very sensitive subject for Martijn. Whatever his reasons were, they clearly ran deep.

Martijn had waited for Lando to get over his own hang-ups with his wing color and dating before making a move. Lando could give him the same courtesy towards his own wings.

And if Martijn's wings stayed a secret forever, that was okay. His happiness and comfort were far more important than a little curiosity.

“I love you,” Lando promised, kissing the shell of Martijn's ear. “Forever and ever.”

Martijn sniffled in his arms and snuggled closer. He ran his fingers lightly over the short feathers that covered Lando's shoulders, brushing them tenderly. “I love you, too,” he whispered. “Forever and ever.”

Lando smiled. With Martijn in his arms, forever like this sounded pretty damn good.

He couldn’t wait to share every bit of it with him.