#and like you even see it happen before the twist

[summervb]

𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you have an unexpected reunion with Jun-ho after believing he was dead

warnings | angst, unresolved love, smut, explicit content, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The road stretched endlessly in front of you. You were a police officer, but at that moment, as you drove down that lonely highway, you didn't feel the rigidity of your uniform or the weight of your job.

Your mind traveled back to the past, to moments you would rather forget. Years had passed since you lost him. Since that night when he simply disappeared and you never heard from him again.

Suddenly, the lights of a patrol car reflected in your rearview mirror. The blue glow made your heart leap in your chest. Quickly, you checked your speed, confirming that you had been speeding. You cursed under your breath.

You stopped the car and parked it by the side of the road. The blue light continued to shine behind you, but something twisted in your stomach.

You prepared for a short exchange, a speeding ticket, something routine. But when the driver's door opened and you looked up, something made you stop.

There he was. In a traffic police uniform.

Hwang Jun-ho.

You couldn't believe it. Your mind went blank for a moment, as if time itself had stopped. He was staring at you, his dark eyes reflecting something you couldn't identify. For a moment, the air between the two of you thickened, dense with the memories of a past that had never completely faded.

"Good evening" he said, his voice as deep as you remembered, but with a tone you hadn't heard before. "Did you know you were speeding?"

Your body tensed instantly, but it wasn't because of the speeding. It was because of the surprise. For the feeling that the past had returned to hit you hard. You didn't know what to say, you just looked into his eyes, searching for a sign that what you saw in front of you was nothing but an illusion.

"Jun-ho…" you whispered, the word slipping from your lips as if it weren't yours, as if you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

He nodded slowly, his expression unchanged, but there was something in his gaze, something that made you doubt everything you had believed. How was it possible that he was here?

"Didn't you expect to see me here?" he asked, his tone now softer, but with a weight of nostalgia that seemed to hang in the air. "You thought you would never see me again".

A knot formed in your throat. You had asked yourself so many times what had happened to him. If he would ever come back. But the pain of the separation, the void left by his disappearance, was still fresh in your mind. And now you had him in front of you, alive, real, and in a uniform you had never imagined.

You didn't know if you had been waiting for this moment or dreading it.

"Why... are you in transit?" the question slipped out almost unintentionally, but Jun Ho cut it off before you could finish it.

"I needed to start over. Change of scenery" His voice became softer, as if the words he was saying had too great a weight to let go.

You stared at him, unsure if you could believe his words. The situation was surreal. How had he ended up here? What had happened to him since his disappearance? The last time you heard from him, it was when they found him adrift in the ocean, almost lifeless, recovering from everything he had endured. But now he was here, in front of you, as if time hadn't passed at all.

"I thought you had... died." The phrase came out before you could stop it.

Jun Ho let out a sigh, his eyes softened for a second.

"Everyone thought the same," he said, with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I survived. And here I am".

The silence settled between the two of them, heavy, full of unasked questions, of unmentioned memories. And in that moment, something inside you broke. Something you had tried to contain for so long. The need to understand what had happened, to comprehend how it had all been. And more than anything, the need to feel it close again.

"I didn't think I would ever see you again," you said, almost like a whisper.

Jun-ho didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned toward the passenger seat, his face now just a few centimeters from yours. The proximity made you tremble. You couldn't deny what you felt, what you had always felt for him. The connection you shared, even after everything that happened, was undeniable.

Suddenly, he moved closer, his lips almost touching yours. A shiver ran through your body as you felt his closeness, and the air became thick. The memories, the emotions, everything you had kept inside overflowed in that moment.

Without thinking, you kissed him.

The kiss was immediate, as if time hadn't passed, as if everything were back to how it used to be. The touch of his lips on yours ignited something within you, something you had kept extinguished for years. The spark, the fire you shared, had never gone out.

Jun-ho's hands traced your face, as if he feared you would vanish at any moment. The gentleness with which he touched you contrasted with the urgency in his kiss. It didn't matter what had happened, what had occurred in the past. At that moment, only the present mattered.

The car no longer seemed like a closed space. The connection between the two of them was palpable, almost electric. You pulled away from his kiss for a moment, taking a breath, but before you could say anything, he leaned in again. This time, he was more determined, more firm.

His hands traveled down your neck, tracing the contour of your skin, and a shiver ran through your body. You felt how desire took hold of both of you, how the chemistry that had remained between you hadn't faded with time. It was as if it had never left.

"I've missed you so much," he said softly, as he kissed you again.

Jun-ho's words made your heart race even faster. You felt as if you had returned to the past, when everything was simpler, when there were no distances, when you both shared dreams and promises. But that promise was broken, and now only the shadows of what once was remained.

The tension in the air was rising, and you couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened between the two of you. But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was him. All you wanted was to feel him close again.

Jun-ho looked you in the eyes, and without a word, his hands began to unbutton your uniform. The desire grew with every second, with every caress, with every touch of his skin against yours.

You moved to the passenger side, sliding over his lap as his hands removed your uniform. You nestled against his chest, feeling his lips kiss your shoulders, while his hands brushed against your bare skin. The touch of his fingers tracing your curves made you gasp.

Jun-ho kissed you again, deepening the kiss, and his hands moved to the back of your body, towards your buttocks. The gesture made you tremble, and you felt something within you beginning to give in. The tension you had held for so long was fading away.

He leaned close to your ears and whispered something, words you couldn't quite understand, but that seemed to promise something beyond that moment. And instead of waiting, his fingers slid between your thighs, searching for the spot he knew would drive you wild.

The caress of his fingers was soft, tempting, as if they were about to make a promise. The closeness of his body, the proximity of his mouth over you, the softness of his fingers on you, it was all as if you were returning to the past. Everything was as if they had never been apart.

Your breath caught when his fingers found the spot. The desire intensified in an instant. The excitement had brought you to a point you didn't want to leave, and the touch of his hand on you was too much to resist.

You moved slowly over his lap, feeling the bulge of his pants against your thighs. The friction was inevitable, but Jun-ho didn't seem to mind. Instead, he moved with me, his fingers slowly penetrating you. The moans that escaped your throat were involuntary, and Jun Ho muffled them with a kiss. The rhythm of his fingers increased, the penetration deeper and more rhythmic. You couldn't hold out much longer.

Suddenly, Jun Ho stopped you. His fingers left you with a softness that made you gasp. But before you could protest, Jun-ho leaned closer to your ear and whispered.

"I want to feel you" His words made you lose your composure completely. The air in the car had become dense, heavy with desire.

I didn't need any more stimulation. Quickly, you took off your underwear and sat on his lap again.

You slid your hand between his pants, caressing his erection. The sensation of his skin, soft and warm under your touch, was all you needed. You slid it down, revealing his erection in all its glory. It was just as you remembered, big and thick, ready to be fucked.

You didn't take any more time to think. There was no more time for that. You moved over his erection, the position of the car forced you to be the one on top, and that was exactly what you wanted. The position of control was yours at that moment.

You sat on him, his erection brushing against the edge of your entrance, but without penetrating. The torture was as good as it was painful. The friction was all you needed to reach the climax, but it was also what made you want more.

Suddenly, his arms enveloped you, and he pulled you towards him. The movement was abrupt, and his erection sank into you in an instant. The penetration was stronger than you expected, but also more pleasurable.

The scream that escaped your lips was involuntary, but the pleasure was undeniable. Jun-ho moved beneath you, pushing his erection inside you over and over again. Each thrust made you tense a little more, made you sit a little deeper on his cock.

The position of the car made sex a bit more uncomfortable, but that was the last thing on your mind. At that moment, all that mattered was the feeling of having him inside you again, feeling his breath on you, having his body in contact with yours.

"Tell me you haven't forgotten me," you whisper in his ear.

The request was simple, but what lay behind it was much more than just words.

"I have never forgotten you," you replied sincerely, your words coming out in gasps. "I will never be able to do it".

Jun Ho smiled at you, his eyes shining in the darkness of the car. His arms tightened around you, and he pushed a little deeper inside you. Your breath caught for a moment, the pleasure rising to a new level.

"Then, tell me that you will always love me" he whispered again.

The words slipped from your lips without thinking.

"Yes, I always loved you. I always will".

Jun-ho smiled again, but this time, there was something in his eyes, an emotion that seemed to shine like fire. His arms tightened around you a little more, and he began to move beneath you again. The position was uncomfortable, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the rhythm, the feel of his cock inside you.

Their breathing became labored. The pleasure intensified with each thrust, but it wasn't just the sex that made you lose your composure. It was the closeness of having him there, of having him back in your life.

Their breathing became labored. The pleasure intensified with each thrust, but it wasn't just the sex that made you lose your composure. It was the closeness of having him there, of having him back in your life.

When you reached the climax, the scream that came out of you was not just one of pleasure. It was one of liberation, of having released everything you had been holding back for years.

Jun-ho arrived just a moment later, his body tensing beneath you as he came. The warm fluid spilled inside you, and you felt his erection pulsing within you.

Both of your breathing became gentle, and for a moment, there were no words between you. Only the sound of the air moving in the car was audible. Jun-ho gently stroked your hair as you leaned on his shoulder, feeling his skin against yours.

"You won't give me a ticket for having sex in the car, will you?" you joked a moment later.

Jun Ho laughed softly, his lips brushing against your hair.

"No" He smiled in the darkness. "I think you've already paid me in full".

You laughed softly and leaned a little more into his arms.

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Flirting (And Jealousy)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader, Russell Shaw x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @lacilou. And surprise! For the first time, I'm trying out adding Russell Shaw to the lineup because I thought he'd be an interesting addition for this prompt. 💜

Prompt: How would Dean, Ben & Beau react to either other men flirting with us or them obliviously/cluelessly letting other women flirt with them? And how we would react to them -- like how they'd make it up to us, their excuses, etc.

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would react to someone flirting with you. (And others flirting with them.)

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, oblivious flirting, unwanted advances, jealousy, some toxic masculinity (you know Ben 🙄), but ultimately lots of fluff, and some spice too.~

Dean Winchester

Dean isn't one to get jealous...at first.

He knows you're hot as hell. He pretty much expects guys to try and shoot their shot.

Plus, he's secure enough in his relationship with you to know you wouldn't consciously entertain someone who's flirting with you.

He also knows you're strong enough to take care of yourself, even with a persistent asshole.

However.

The second a man gets into your face or tries to put his hands on you, Dean's stepping in -- either to twist the man's arm nearly out of its socket, or deliver a swift punch between the eyes, or his personal favorite, grabbing the back of the guy's neck and slamming his face onto the counter.

Dean finds the sound of bone breaking against varnished wood, followed closely by the heavy tripping thud of a body to the floor, deeply satisfying.

You heave a sigh. Not because you're all that annoyed at Dean, but because you tried to warn the guy.

Now, Dean knows he used to be...well, a "ladies man," putting it mildly. He's improvised more panty-dropping one-liners than a Magic Mike stripper. His success rate is 9-and-10 (because there's always room for improvement).

He directs all that flirtatious, playful, sexual energy on you. He's fallen for you, committed to you, and once he makes a decision with his heart, Dean Winchester doesn't have an unfaithful bone in his body.

However.

He can't altogether stop women from flirting with him. Like at one of the many diners you, Sam, and Dean stop to eat at after a hunt.

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" the waitress says. She brushes her hand up his arm and squeezes his shoulder, giving Dean a too-bright smile that leaves nothing to the imagination (at least to you).

He smiles back at her. "Thanks, sweetheart."

It's like a reflex. He thinks he's being polite. He doesn't even follow the path of her hip-swaying walk with his eyes -- like he certainly would've before he met you.

You still stare at Dean incredulously. When the woman walks away, he smiles at you as if nothing happened. Sam wisely keeps to himself and sips his beer, hiding a smirk.

Dean notices the way your lips are pursed, bitchface activated. "What?" he asks.

You cross your arms. "Really?"

He frowns. "What's the matter?"

"Really. You need me to tell you not to let that woman eye-fucking you to put her hands all over you?" You shake your head. More dryly you add, "Right in front of me, too. I gotta give it to her, she's got brass balls."

Dean is bewildered, but then he replays the moment in his head and realizes that you're right. He kinda fucked up.

He sees the way you're getting all testy, and he has to chuckle.

"Okay. I'm sorry, sweetheart. My bad."

He reaches for your hand and manages to uncross your arms. You're stubborn in your irritation, but Dean is the king of persuasion, giving you teasing, flirty bedroom eyes and waggling brows as he pulls you towards him.

If you're still reluctant to soften, he adds, "Come on, don't be a sourpuss. Come 'ere."

Eventually he breaks you, making you laugh and hit his arm with no real force behind it.

Even Sam shakes his head, seeing how his brother manages to pacify you by sliding his arm around your shoulders across the booth. Dean leans in and kisses along your neck. He inhales your scent and hums in pleasure.

Sam clears his throat. He has to awkwardly look away.

"Gonna forgive me?" Dean asks, his lips moving against your skin. "Though I gotta admit, I kinda like it when you're jealous. All growly and fiesty. Got myself a little tiger."

You roll your eyes, but your lips tug at a smile. Your face warms in a blush, especially as his hand wanders under your jacket and teasingly up your side.

You slip your fingers into his hair, making sure to give a sharp little tug on it for good measure. He just laughs.

Oh, you'll forgive him, but maybe you'll make him do a little more penance when you all get back home.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a jealous man from the onset when a man flirts with you.

His lips purse, his jaw clicks, and he keeps a firm eye on the situation. He doesn't like it.

But to his credit, he tries not to act on it right away, letting you handle it the way you want to.

However, like Dean, the moment someone gets into your personal space or tries to touch you, he's pulling out some Sheriff moves.

If the man grabs at you, Beau's got his arm twisted behind his back so fast, he can almost feel ligaments popping. Beau gives a calm, but firm warning before sending the guy on his way. (He'd like to do more, but the department frowns on excessive violence.)

Maybe part of you gets annoyed at the show of jealousy, but a larger part of you can't help but be turned on when he protects you. You know it's not because he thinks you need protecting, but because he wants to.

"Can't help it, darlin'," he's said. "It's just how I was raised."

But you're the one that bristles when Danielle, a PTA mom at Emily's school, flirts with him. She laughs at his corny jokes with her white teeth and her perfectly layered and coiffed blonde hair.

She even gives him an extra cookie from her offering at the school's bake sale. (She knows what most of this town knows -- that the way to the Sheriff's heart is all too often through his stomach.)

Beau just nods along, smiling polite with that charming grin of his, totally oblivious while he eats. The last straw for you is when she wipes a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

Your mouth falls open in shock. "Are you shitting me?"

You accidentally say it out loud, earning not only your boyfriend's surprised look, but Danielle's guilty one as well. (And some of the kids.)

Blushing in embarrassment, you pivot on your heel and start packing up your supplies for the bake sale.

That's when Beau realizes that he fucked up.

He politely excuses himself from Danielle and goes to help you (wiping the crumbs off his face and licking chocolate off his thumb). He can tell you're feeling more than a little icy towards him, but he tries to make up for it by doing all the heavy lifting, bringing back things to the car, and helping you with the bags before he calls Emily over.

It's a long car ride home, awkward and tense. Emily can tell something's off between you and her dad, but when she asks about it, you claim nothing's wrong.

Beau knows better.

He waits until the three of you get home to the apartment you share with him, and after putting the bake sale stuff away, he follows you into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart--"

"What the hell was that, Beau?" You come in hot with it, and Beau is quick to try and ease your tension with an apology.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Couldn't you see that she was eyeing you like a honey-glazed ham?"

Beau's lips twitch at a grin, but you're not amused. You cross your arms and give him a warning look. That's when he wises up.

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry." He chances taking a few slow steps towards you, raising his brows and keeping his hands up in surrender.

You eye him narrowly, but you let him get close enough to slip his arms around you. He gathers you against his chest and presses a lingering kiss to your cheek.

"I mean it. Won't happen again," he promises. His hands mold to the curve of your waist and squeeze gently. His lips move, burning a sweet path along your jawline, your chin, over the apple of your cheeks, and finally your lips. You breathe into it, and you can't help but cling to the front of his buttoned-down shirt.

"Do me a favor," you say quietly between kisses. "Don't eat Danielle's cookies."

Beau smiles against your lips. "Don't you worry, darlin'. From now on, I'll tell her that I've got some good cookie at home."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, Ben doesn't fuck around.

...Well, in the sense that he can't tolerate another man even looking at you flirtatiously, or otherwise with any kind of intent.

Depending on the severity, at best, it'll have Ben shooting the man a stony look of warning.

At worst, it ruins the day -- namely with the sound of bone snapping and a man's sobbing howl of pain.

You try to get him to tone it down ("For God's sake, Ben. It's fine. Just relax."), but this is one thing he well and truly doesn't budge on.

Ben is possessive. Because you're his. His to touch, and his to protect.

In his mind, it's fucking simple.

Whenever you get irritated with this brutish, knuckle-dragging, caveman mentality, you try to remember why he does it.

It's indicative of how much he actually cares about you.

Because if he didn't, he wouldn't really give a shit if other men were flirting with you. (He'd just find another woman to try and charm back to his apartment.)

So you've learned how to try and finesse these situations so that Ben doesn't notice.

You've also stopped letting down men easy, proverbially cutting off their dick and balls with your words.

Because it's quite literally to save their dumbass life.

But when other women flirt with Ben, he takes it all with indulgent smiles, throwing in a wink and a sweetheart every now and then.

He doesn't blame them for flirting with him, checking him out. He's Soldier Boy, after all, and in his mind, it's not his fault they can't help themselves around him.

However, a smile and a wink is all that he allows himself.

If he truly cares about you (and though he doesn't often express it in words, he does), then the unfamiliar twinge of guilt stops him whenever he almost accepts a woman's alluring invitation--spoken or unspoken.

His mouth might spew arrogance and gilded lies, but his actions too often betray what he really feels.

And what he really feels can't be any more clear than when he goes after you, instead of indulging the woman who basically undressed him with her eyes, whispered sultry, sexy offerings in his ear, and invited him to go home with her.

Seeing you take off out the double doors of the club, Ben rolls his eyes. He brushes the woman off without a backwards glance, and follows you out into the night air. He grabs your hand before you can get far in your heels.

"What the hell's the matter now?" he asks dryly.

You turn on him with an incredulous look.

"That woman was practically sucking your neck, Ben!"

"All right, don't fucking overreact. You're getting hysterical," he says, before guiding you back into his arms.

"I'm not fucking hysterical, you ass!" You push against his chest, but he doesn't budge, nor does he let you go. This isn't a good area, and he doesn't want you out in these streets at this time of night without him at your side.

"Ben," you say sharply. You look up at him in irritation, but he just smirks and strokes your side with his thumb.

Yes, (in his mind) you're being a little difficult, but he thinks your jealousy is amusing, adorable, and kind of hot all at the same time.

Ben doesn't bother with saying anything more to convince you. He just slips a hand behind your neck and kisses you soundly.

He invades your mouth with his tongue and devours you, reminding you that you're the one he wants.

He waylays you with his strong hands framing your body against his, and with his sinful mouth, until you finally melt into his embrace.

He's chosen you countless time before, and he knows he'll keep choosing you, for as long as this lasts.

Russell Shaw

Russell always clocks the "situation" right away when a man starts to flirt with you.

He's not one to make a scene of it at first, depending on the time and place.

But he is quick to sidle up to your side, pointedly slip a hand along your waist, and greet you with a deceptive smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. Let's grab that table over there. 'S more comfortable than the bar."

He glances up at the man, sharpness hidden well behind his green eyes. Whether the guy picks up on it or not, Russell is making a mugshot in his mind -- and he never forgets a face.

You eye him knowingly, but you let him guide you away. He's kind of cute when he's jealous, and it doesn't take much to spark that well of protectiveness that lies in wait just under his skin.

Russell isn't easily fazed by most things, but one sure way to provoke his temper (and those rougher, darker shades of him that he tries his best not to show you) is for a man to push his luck with you.

It really wouldn't take much effort at all for the former soldier to have a man clutching his bloody, shattered nose, let alone to dump his broken body in front of the closest hospital. But somehow, Russell manages to curb those darker urges. (Again, don't tempt him.)

But when another woman flirts with him, you're the one who starts to have steam coming out of your ears.

Russell doesn't miss much. He recognizes the sultry inflection in the woman's words. He catches the subtle, sensuous gleam in her eyes when she rakes him up and down with them.

He also notes the moment you look over and realize what's happening.

Regardless if you're looking or not, he tries his best to stay distant, but polite, even as a warning twinge of "aww shit" runs up his spine.

He tries to play things off with an amiable smile and being purposefully oblivious.

Until the woman gets bold, slipping her hand over Russell's and up his arm a bit, before she withdraws, tilting her head with a sweet-as-pie smile.

Cue Russ's awkward laugh/clearing of the throat. Before he has time to fully pull away and just come out with the, Sorry, I actually have a girlfriend -- you return to his side and pointedly grab his hand.

"Come on, honey, we'll be late," you say, giving him a tense smile.

The aww shit feeling is back, but Russell just nods and falls into step with you.

When you two have enough privacy to hash it out, you let him have it.

"What the hell was that?!"

Russell can't help but chuckle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I tried to keep it classy, but that woman was persistent. Not that I blame her--"

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes (not that you really blame her either). Then you stare at your man in annoyance, crossing your arms. "I didn't see you trying all that hard to fend her off, huh, Romeo? If another man had touched me like that, you would've broken his fingers off, like a fucking caveman."

Russell's brows raise at the dig, but the way you're getting all testy is kind of cute (and also kinda hot).

"All right. You got me there," he says. He slips his arms around your waist and tries to soften you with a charming grin. "Come on, sweetheart. You know I'm not going anywhere."

"Do I?" you blurt out, before you have a chance to reign it back in.

Russell's contract jobs take him all over the country -- all over the world. Yes, he's on his way out, he claims. He wants to settle down with you, or so he says.

But you have no idea of knowing what he does when he's not with you.

All those days out on the road, crashing in skeevy motels, winding down at dive bars -- has he ever been tempted to "sample" the local fare? Has he ever...

Russell's amusement fades, sobering into a frown and a furrowing of his brows. He hums in disapproval. He doesn't like what he's seeing in your eyes: doubt, most of all.

"Hey," he says. It's a serious tone you don't often hear in his voice. He curls a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to meet his.

"I'm gonna need you to listen to me, and listen good," he says. You frown at that, but he brushes his thumb across your cheek, a small, but tender caress. "You and me, we've got something good. I know what that means. So you can believe me when I say, I'm in this. I'm right here, even when I'm not here."

And he smiles at you. "That make sense?"

Slowly, you start to smile too. "Not really," you laugh.

But it does. You know what he's trying to say, and...you believe him. Your fingers curl in the front of his shirt.

Tentatively, you lean up and press your lips to his; just a sweet, slow meeting.

Russell cups your cheek and leans in for a deeper taste, a deeper conviction of every word he just said.

I love you, is what it really means, even if he's not able to say that just yet.

AN: 😮‍💨 Well, there we go! lol I love me a protective man. 💜 Hope you enjoy this set of headcanons!

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[mysunshinetemptress]

Smarter

Leah Williamson x ??

Warnings: because you all love it so much and all the asks I’ve gotten here is an insight to what else has happened.

Read here first SMARTER

“Where is it.” Leah’s head whips up at the sound of her granny’s voice “what.” Her granny doesn’t give her a chance to think of some stupid lie “The ring Leah, my wedding ring, your wedding ring, the wedding ring that I gave you when you told me you wanted to marry Y/n, the wedding ring that saw forty five years of happy marriage, the ring I gave to you in the hopes it would see many more years of a happy marriage, the wedding ring that that slag is wearing around her neck, Where. Is. It.” Leah feels her heart jump into her mouth at the pure look of anger and disappointment on her granny’s face “I-she-I.” Leah splutters trying to make up her mind on what to tell her Granny but that all stops and her world collapses that bit more at the sound of the front door opening.

“Baby they didn’t have the shoes I wanted so I just bought a new necklace instead, wait till I show you.” SHE shouts from the hallway and Leah can swear her granny is blowing steam out of her ears in pure anger.

“Oh, hi I’m sorry I didn’t know there was anyone here.” Leah’s eyes flicker back and forth between the two women stood in front of her as her Granny’s eyes search HER body for her wedding ring before spotting it on her middle finger. She turns to Leah her face full of sorrow and disappointment “The ring always fit you both perfectly, as it did for your grandfather and I, I thought that it was sign, that you both were made for each other just like he and I were” Leah’s head drops as her stomach twists uncomfortably “Can I have the ring please Tiff.” SHE turns looking back at the older woman in front of her “why.” Leah’s granny shakes her head “it’s mine, she had no right to give that to you. I want it back.” Tiff huffs before putting the bags and bags of clothes she’s gotten on the ground and twisting the ring off “Shame it was my favourite.” Leah’s Granny shook her head “It’s too good for a slag like you.” Tiff lets out a gasp turning to Leah looking for the blonde to defend her but Leah doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t look up from the spot she’s staring at on the ground, Leah doesn’t move even as her Granny leaves and Tiff states she’s going upstairs.

[coolemmasulivan2]

There For You

Pairing: Mason Mount x Physician!Reader

Summary: You’re a physician at the club who’s grown close to Mason. However, after he suffers another injury, he begins to distance himself, leaving you confused and unsure of how to help him.

Word count: 2729

I'll be there when you need me most I'll be there if you're ever alone Together, we can grow old I can't leave you

It was your first day back at the training camp after two weeks off, and your stomach twisted in pain as you scanned the list of injured players and Mason’s name was at the top.

You hated seeing his name there. He’d been through so much already, and every setback felt like life was testing him a little too harshly. Ever since moving to the club, he’d spent more time in your office than any player should. It seemed like he couldn’t catch a break.

In those long hours spent tending to his injuries and working on his recovery plans, the two of you had built a beautiful friendship, not because he was a regular in your office, but because of who he was.

Even when he was hurting, Mason had a way of lightening the mood. He always managed a smile. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ll get through this. Somehow, I always do.

Maybe that’s why, little by little, you’d fallen for him. It wasn’t just his courage or his never-quit attitude, it was the way he smiled, even when life knocked him down.

The night before, you had watched the game against City, and you didn’t need to be there in person to know it had happened again. The moment you saw Mason sitting on the field, head down in defeat, your heart broke for him.

"No! Bloody hell! Someone get this guy to a witch." Your dad shouted at the TV, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Someone’s playing with his voodoo doll!"

"Dad!" You called out, shooting him a look as your little nephew that was Mason's fan sank on the sofa.

"What? It’s true!" He replied, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The United scarf around his neck swayed as he turned back to the screen. "The guy’s got more than bad luck."

You opened the door and stepped into the medical office. Mason was already sitting on the examination bed, his head down, eyes fixed on his hands as they opened and closed into tight fists.

"Hey, Mason!" You greeted softly.

His head shot up, his expression briefly surprised. "Hey!" He said, his voice deeper than usual. He didn’t smile like he normally did. "I thought you were still on holiday."

"They don't let me have three weeks off during the Premier League." You said with a small chuckle as you pulled on a pair of blue gloves. "And it’s a good thing they don't Let's have a look?"

He didn’t say anything, just nodded and laid back on the bed, stretching out his legs.

As you started examining his leg, you kept your tone light, hoping to break through his mood. "You've been through worse, right? I mean, you're basically indestructible at this point." That earned you nothing. No laugh, no smile, not even a glance. Just silence.

You focused on your work, carefully testing for swelling and tender areas. Mason didn't flinch, didn't make a sound, but the tension in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.

You sighed softly, stepping back. "Okay."

"It's bad, isn't it?" He asked, his tone clipped, as though he already knew the answer.

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "It's not great." You admitted, keeping your voice steady. "The scans will give us the full picture, but you'll need to rest for a few weeks, at least."

At that, Mason let out a short, bitter laugh. "A few weeks. Of course." He shook his head and sat up, his movements stiff and frustrated.

"I know it's frustrating." You said gently, trying to reach him. "But we'll make sure you heal properly, and you'll come back even stronger. You've done it before."

"Yeah." He said flatly, his tone ice-cold. "And look where that got me."

The sharpness of his words stung, catching you off guard. You glanced up, meeting his gaze. His face was hard, his usual warmth replaced with a wall of indifference.

"You're allowed to be upset." You said softly. "This is a tough break, but it's not the end. You're one of the strongest people I know, Mason."

He let out a small, humorless smile that never reached his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll add it to my collection."

Before you could respond, Mason pushed himself off the bed, grabbed his phone from the desk and walked out of the office without a second glance.

You stood there, speechless, the weight of his frustration and pain settling heavily in the room.

"So, he just left?" Your best friend asked, setting her beer down on the table with a thud.

"Yeah!" You said, still in disbelief. "I mean… I get it. He's angry and frustrated with everything going on, but I... I was just trying to help him." You took a long sip of your beer, then lowered your voice to a whisper. "I just want to help him."

Your friend gave you a knowing smile, leaning back in her chair. "You're so down bad for him."

You groaned, running your hands through your hair. "I know."

You groaned, running your hands through your hair. "I know."

Your friend chuckled. "Honestly, I don't blame you. The guy's gorgeous. Moody, apparently, but gorgeous."

"It's not just that. It's… He's been through so much, and he still manages to stay so positive. He works harder than anyone I've ever seen. He deserves more than this."

"And yet, he shut you out."

"Yeah." You sighed, slumping back in your chair. "I don’t think it's personal. I think he's just… overwhelmed. But it still stung, you know? We've talked so much before. I thought I..." You paused, trying to find the words. "I thought I could be someone he leaned on."

Your friend reached across the table, squeezing your hand. "He will, eventually. Sometimes guys like him need time. Doesn't mean you're not important to him."

You gave her a grateful look. "I hope you're right."

The next morning, you were in your office early, sipping coffee and organizing your notes. You had barely slept, your mind replaying the tension with Mason over and over.

With a sigh, you shook off the memory and focused on the task at hand, jotting down follow-up plans for a few players. The knock on your door startled you.

"Come in!" You called, glancing up.

Your coworker, James, stepped in, clipboard in hand. "Morning." He said, his tone casual but hesitant, like he was bracing himself for something.

"Morning." You replied, eyeing him curiously. "What's up?"

He hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh… just wanted to give you a heads-up. Mason requested to transfer to me for his treatment plan."

You froze. "What?"

James gave a small shrug. "He asked me this morning. Said he wanted to switch."

"Why?" You asked, the word coming out sharper than you intended.

"I don't know." James said carefully "He didn't say much, just that he thought it would be better for him."

You stared at him, stunned. "Better for him? I don't understand. Why would he…" You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

James sighed. "Look, I didn't want to get into it. I know you two are friends, you have a close relationship, but If you want to know why, you're going to have to ask him."

For a moment, you just sat there, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard.

"I see." You said finally, your voice quieter now. "Thanks for letting me know, James."

James gave you a sympathetic look. "Hey, don't take it personally, okay? He's going through a lot. You know how players can get when they're injured. It's probably just his way of dealing with it."

"Yeah." You murmured, forcing a small smile. "I get it."

But as James left, you found yourself staring at your desk, Mason’s name at the top of your notes. Why didn’t he want your help anymore?

Mason was sitting on the bench in the locker room, phone in hand, as he responded to a text from his brother. He barely looked up when Bruno walked in.

"Hey!" Bruno said casually, shrugging off his jacket with an air of ease.

"Hey!" Mason replied, his eyes still glued to his phone. "How was training?"

Bruno snorted, tugging on a clean shirt. "Good." He said shortly, clearly uninterested in lingering on the topic. Instead, he glanced over at Mason. "James told me you switched to him for physio."

Mason shrugged, leaning back. "Yeah. Figured it's better this way."

Bruno raised an eyebrow as he sat down, pulling off his trainers. "Better for you or for her?" His tone was light, but his words hit home.

Mason's jaw tightened as he turned to look at Bruno. "What?"

"You and Y/n seemed close." Bruno said. "She's solid, actually gives a crap about us, which, let's be real, doesn't happen every day."

"James is solid too."

Bruno held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying, she might be wondering why you're icing her out." Mason didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the floor. Bruno sighed as he stood, slinging his towel over his shoulder. "Whatever you're running from, just make sure you're not pushing the wrong people away, mate."

Mason stayed silent, the weight of Bruno's words settling over him. He kept his head down, listening to the sound of Bruno's footsteps as he disappeared toward the showers.

A week had passed, and you still hadn't managed to speak to Mason in person. You'd tried texting him multiple times, asking if something was wrong, if you'd upset him somehow, but he always left you on read.

Today, you were determined to put an end to the silence. It was your day off, but you knew Mason would be at the camp. So, you drove there, parking directly in front of his car and waiting.

As usual, Mason was one of the last to leave, even though he hadn't been training with the team. He emerged from the building, his bag over his shoulder and his coat zipped all the way up against the cold, as he made his way toward his car.

You took a deep breath and stepped out of your car. He didn't notice you at first, his focus elsewhere, but as you moved closer, emerging from the shadows, he froze on his tracks.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there under the dim parking lot lights.

You suddenly felt nervous and exposed. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Slowly, both of you began to move, closing the distance until you were close enough to reach out and touch him.

"Hi?" You shot back. An avalanche of words was threatening to tumble out. "That's it? That's all you've got to say? Hi?" Mason opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance. "No, Mason, I don't want your 'Hi.' I want answers. I want to know why. Why did you ask to be transferred to James? Why have you been ignoring me?" You kept going, every bottled-up thought spilling out. Mason stood there, silent, his gaze fixed on you. Even in anger, you were still cute. "Mason?" You demanded, pulling him out of his trance.

He blinked, suddenly lifting his eyes from your lips to meet yours. "What?"

You shook your head, letting out a sigh. "Have I done something wrong?"

Mason's swallowed hard, his gaze breaking away from yours. "You haven't done anything wrong, Y/n!" He said quietly.

Your chest tightened at his words. "Then why?" Your voice cracked, trembling under the weight of your emotions. "I thought we were friends, Mason."

Mason let out a sarcastic chuckle. "That's the problem!"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What?"

"I-- I don't want to be your friend." He said, his voice just enough to make you freeze. "I don't want to be your friend because I want to be so much more! I want to be the one who carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the sofa. I want to be the one you ask to open jars, the one whose hoodies you steal. I want to be the person who holds you when you cry and makes you laugh when you need it. I want to take care of you—not the other way around." His words knocked the wind out of you.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You weren't one to be left speechless, but somehow Mason had managed it.

"I... do you like me?" You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mason bit his lip, almost nervously. "Was that not obvious?"

"But… why would you push me away? Wait--" Your eyes widened. "Did you do this because you were my patient?"

Mason let out a long sigh, his breath visible in the chilly Manchester air. "I'm tired, Y/n." He said, his voice low and pained. "You've seen me at my worst since the day we met. And I hate that. I hate that you've only ever seen this version of me: the injured, broken version."

"Mase--"

"No!" He interrupted, his voice cracking. "I feel like everything's going wrong. I feel like I’m failing as a footballer, as a person. And I hate that all you've seen is that failure."

You reached for him, your hands trembling as they rested on his arms. "Mason, listen to me." You said firmly. "The last thing I see you as is a failure." He turned his face away, but you cupped his face, gently forcing him to meet your gaze. "You’re the strongest, most hardworking person I know. Maybe you’ve had more setbacks than most, but you work three times harder than anyone else. I’m your physician, yes, but I’m also your friend. And I just want to help you. I want to be there for you, no matter what."

For a moment, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and stars. His hand rose hesitantly, cupping your cheek as if he were afraid you might disappear.

Slowly, his face leaned closer to yours, his lips brushing yours gently. When you didn’t pull away, your lips parted, and he kissed you.

The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, then deeper, carrying the weight of everything unsaid until now. For that moment, there was no cold air, no frustration, no confusion, just the warmth of his lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart, your breaths mingled in the frosty air. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read you.

"I'm sorry." Mason whispered.

"For what?" You asked softly.

"For pushing you away. For being such a mess." He admitted, his eyes dropping to the ground. "You deserve someone who's got it all together, not someone who's barely holding on."

You shook your head. "Mason, no one has it all together. We're all just doing our best. And you're not a mess, you're human. You're allowed to feel frustrated, to have bad days. But you don't have to go through it alone."

"You make me want to be better." He said quietly.

"And you make me want to fight harder." You replied with a shy smile.

He pulled you into a tight embrace and you burried your face in his neck. The weight of his struggles seemed to melt away. The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms. When you pulled apart, he looked down at you and smiled.

You gave him a gentle smile, tucking your hands into your pockets, suddenly feeling shy. "So… go home, rest, and we'll talk... tomorrow? Properly this time."

"Properly." He repeated with a nod.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The night air was cold, but the warmth of the moment made it easy to ignore. Finally, you took a small step back as you said goodbye, offering him one last glance before turning to leave.

"Y/n." His voice stopped you in your tracks.

You turned. "Yes?"

He hesitated. "Do you… do you want to have dinner? Like... today!"

A smile spread across your face. "I'd love that."

[applejuicebegood]

hey! if its alright, can i request some jason todd hcs where the reader is jasons little sister seems like the opposite of him (like always yapping, loves bright colors, etc) but they actually like a lot of the same things (like books, maybe the reader gets him into manga?) so they get along well?

A/N: Such a sweet idea! I've always wanted to write for an olderbrother!Jason. I really hope you like it dude! Masterlist

You were made known to him after his resurrection. A half-sister, born to the same filthy blood as him. Tracking you down was difficult but Jason found himself desperately committed to your discovery. When he finally found your address, Jason already recognized how similar you would be to him as he watched you blend and weave through the density of Gothams infrastructure. He sighed under the domino mask, watching you duck under a chain-link fence, disappearing from his line of sight.

When you slide back under the rusted metal, having successfully fed the family of stray cats that lived behind the abandoned chevy, the sun had just disappeared behind Gothams wall of skyscrapers. And he was there, his sturdy figure flicking in and out of illumination as the car headlights passed behind him.

The sleek red of the domino mask and the bat on his chest didn't give anything away as to who was standing in front of you. You stumbled backwards, an exhale of cold air catching in your throat as your back hit the fence. Awkwardly raising your hands up beside your head, already shaking, you didn't take your eyes off of him. 'L-Look man... whatever you think I did.. I promise you've got it wrong... I-I was just.. just' Even your voice carried the same street-given cadence as him.

He stepped forward with caution, holding a gloved hand out in front of him, trying to signal no threat. 'Your mother Catherine Todd?' You nodded, disturbed at how guttural the Red Hoods voice sounded through the obvious distortion. The annoying prick of confusion made it's way up your neck. Did dad got caught stealing cigarettes again? Is the Red Hood gunna kill me.. like as revenge or some shit? Fuck- what the hell is happening?

Jason brought his hands to the side of his mask, clicking the release buttons. The metal lifted from his skin with a hiss. The cold air hit his face as his naked eyes met yours. Your obvious shock stung like the cold Gotham air stinging his warmed skin. 'I guess we have something in common then' He chuckled, kicking the heel of his boot against the concrete. Your hands lowered to your sides, breath clouding up in front of your face. His eyes.. they were deep, even in the dank lighting of the ally your could see their infinite quality. His jet-black hair was the same as yours, only differentiated by the stark white streak falling over his forehead. The sharp swoop of his jaw, and the forwardness of his cheekbones, it was like looking in a mirror. Was this how everyone else saw you? Desperately intriguing, like an old book waiting to be read.

'What the fuck is that supposed mean?' You spat, bracing your body for the possibility of needing to sprint. He came closer, his face appearing to twist in the familiarity of guilt. The metal of the fence dug into your back, every muscle tightening in the expectation of a punch or your arms getting shoved behind your back.

Jason's hand found it's way to your cheek, freezing you in place. The rough fabric of his gloves scratched your skin as his thumb brushed over your cheek. The distant warmth hidden under the fabric disappearing under your chilled skin, your fearful gaze now tied to his. You could see the glimmer of tears gather in his mournful eyes as he smile. 'You've got her eyes'

That was a two years ago now. When your brother found you and made it known of his want to be in your life. Two years ago before you started living with him. Before you would mold Jason's heart into loving you as his baby sister.

It was the strenuous and aggravating learning curve at first. Understanding how to be an older brother to someone as explosively emotional as him. You would rile each others frustration as easily as fire consumes a dead log.

While his teeth were blunt from years of biting the metal of his mental cages, yours were still sharp and desperate to sink into the world. It was hard for him to dull that fury in you. Anger at the world, at your parents for keeping Jasons existence from you, anger at him for not coming sooner. Fortunately for the both of you, Jason had a pretty good older brother to look up too and emulate.

Dick is the first one in the family to know about your existence. Jason called him, frustrated at himself for seemingly not being able to connect with you the way he wanted. His job as the Red Hood didn't stop because of you now living with him and he was finding it difficult to carve out time to spend with you let alone present himself as a dedicated older brother. 'Ok.. How about I cover your patrol route tonight and you take her to that bookstore cafe thing down on fifth?' 'But what if she doesn't like that kinda thing?' 'So ask her what she likes.. and buy her a muffin while your at it. Jason... this thing is gunna be hard, but your doing everything supposed too. But if you really wanna show this kid that she can trust you, you need to give it a lot of time' Dick said as Jason paced between the kitchen sink and the living room couch. 'You sound like you've done this before' Jason quipped, tugging at the roots of his hair with his elbows leaning on the kitchen island. 'I have.. six times at this point'

You hurried off in front of Jason before the store door could shut behind him. He soon found you frantically tracing the shelves of the comic section until you pulled out a volume he didn't recognize. But seeing your face alight with joy, your dimples pinching your cheeks the same way his did, it was hard for him not to smile. It didn't take long for you to start rambling about the story. He wished he had a notepad of some kind so he could write all this down to remember for the birthdays he hoped to spend with you. You both walked the aisles lazily, Jason pulled a few books himself to explain and recommend. You smiled at his consideration of your presence, excited that someone was showing this kind of care and interest. You both left with a decently heftily stack, excitedly talking about which ones you were going to read first. And in that moment, a spark was struck within both of you. A precursor to the furiously powerful flame of your love for each other.

Jason felt ever inch of him burn with pride and emotion when thinking about the importance of taking care of you. And you felt ever bit of relief knowing that there was finally someone you could trust innately.

And while even though you now shared in this trust and pride, your differences is what made Jason truly proud to be your brother. You slowly morphed his dark and rather bland apartment into a wonderful blend of colour. Your personality slowly revealing itself to Jason you both worked to paint your bedroom a lovely pastel yellow. Eventually ending in you guys flicking paint at each other.

Jason learned how easy it was to smile when he was with you. Pride bloomed warmly in his chest when he compared himself to you when he was your age. You were so much smarter and brighter than he was. And he was eager, almost excited to make sure that constant brightness you had was kept safe and secure.

Jason knew that his job would make your life hard by association. So as much as it hurt his ego, he had to call up Bruce and ask if it was ok for you to stay the night at the manor while he helped out Dick in Bludhaven.

Your introduction to your brothers adoptive family only made you even more excitable. And with Jason asking Bruce to set you up in Gotham High with Tim, Cass, and Steph, your 'sister' label was suddenly not just for Jason to claim.

Tim and Cass specifically thought how funny it was that both of you came from the same parents yet could be so different in presentation. Jason darkening of doorways was suddenly impossible when you appeared by his side - your arms full of Tupperware containers filled with treats you had baked the night before, eager to hand out to everyone.

You loved the rest of the family, of course you did. But it was always Jason you would return too at the end of the day. Always him that you would come running too first.

Jason never expected in his second life to become an older sibling, to you or to anyone else in the family. The blood bond you shared was deeper and more emotionally sacred than anything he could have imagined. The care he had for you was so strong and potent, he felt the tug of warmth at the ring of your laugh because of something stupid he said.

He found you and carved out a little pocket of safety for both of you to exist within. He wouldn't let the fear and the horror of his world ever touch your intensely precious nature.

[banananutmuffin28]

Hi, I loved your se-mi x reader and was wondering if you could do a no-eul one where the fem reader is a player and she kind of tries to protect them during the games?

Yesss! We NEED more fics about our favorite murderous guard :D

Warnings: Mildly Obsessive No-eul

Guard No-eul x FEM! Player Reader

No-eul has always felt a protective pull towards you. It stemmed from when she saw you in the very first game, a type of feeling that curled around her heart and blazed fiercely in her chest.

After all, you were such a pretty little thing.

She couldn't stand watching you suffer through the games as you fought to survive. Whenever she noticed your shaky legs, or the way your lips twisted as you held back a cry, she would always tighten her fists and snarl into her mask.

You didn't deserve any of this.

 No, no, no, you shouldn't have to fight at all. No-eul should just be allowed to whisk you away to somewhere safe. She didn't give a shit about the prize money; all that mattered was having you sheltered in her arms.

No-eul only wanted what was best for you, after all.

But...that couldn't happen. Aside from the task of rescuing you being infeasible in its own right, she would also have to plan an escape and have some mode of transportation to leave the hidden island and return to the sturdy shore.

And besides, the risk of you getting hurt was all too high. It wasn't worth it.

So, instead, No-eul decided to give you gentle nudges in the games.

They weren't much, usually just stemming from her overlooking a small, crucial error, but it was enough to ensure your survival.

Until she found another plan, that would have to do.

—

You tried not to cry as you stumbled along the steady rhythm of the doll’s voice. The metallic stench of blood invaded your nostrils, and you swore you could even taste it on your lips. 

Even now, you could still remember Mi-na’s lifeless corpse on the floor, and the others that followed.

Gi-hun’s reminder rang clear in your mind, repeating over and over again until you thought your brain would burst. 

“If you move; you die!”

At first, you thought he was just some crazed lunatic too high on some unknown drug. But, even then, the way his eyes glared at everyone told some small part of you that he was being serious.

And then Mi-na died. A crisp, clear gunshot rang right next to you before she folded onto the ground. The noise had shocked you, seeing as you were right next to her and really didn’t fucking expect someonr to actually die in Red Light Green Light of all games. You remember stumbling back—it was just a miniscule amount of movement, but still enough to be noticeable.

The other players stared at you, wide eyed. And, you knew by the way sympathy had sparked in their irises, that you were done for.

You had closed your eyes, chin trembling as the first of tears fell from your face, and waited for a bullet that would shoot through your skull.

 But…it never came. 

A few moments had passed, and you were still unharmed. 

An unsteady gasp fell from your lips as you felt a fragile, flighty sense of hope bloom in your heart. Were you really going to be spared? Did that movement not really count?

The next time the doll sang, it sounded like the heavenly voices of angels.

The next few rounds passed by achingly slowly. By now, you had decided to stop just seconds before the doll would turn its gaze to you, as an extra precautionary measure.

You didn’t want another close call like that again.

All around you, people of all ages fell down like flies. Even the slightest of movements got them shot, and you watched as one by one the life slowly faded from their eyes.

And, all the while, your mind was racing with one singular thought: Why were you spared?

–

As the timer reached zero, No-eul smirked. She squinted into the day scope, fingers dancing along the trigger. 

She couldn’t believe it. Not only had you survived, but she got away with not shooting you too.

“011, what’s gotten you so happy?”

No-eul turned around, startled. Her fingers slipped, accidentally sending a stray bullet whirring past the intended target. The man screamed, tears spilling from his eyes as he begged for mercy.

How annoying.

Another triangle masked guard sat beside her. He chuckled, looking up from his gun lazily as he propped one elbow on his lap. When No-eul didn’t respond, the man made a flicking motion, urging her to speak.

“Come on, 011, whenever you’re on sniping duty for Red Light Green Light you’re always huffing and shit. Always so serious. So, why are you chuckling today?”

No-eul sighed, though she still couldn’t stop the blush that appeared on her cheeks.

“It was nothing, 013. Stop pestering me and go back to work,” She deadpanned at last. Before he could respond and fire back with a creatively stupid insult, No-eul gazed back into the magnifying scope and started shooting.

No-eul didn’t want anyone else focusing on you. You were hers and hers alone.

—

As the games passed by one by one, you grew more and more concerned. Really, you shouldn’t even be alive right now.

You laid in your bed, a frown on your lips. During each and every one of the games, you had done something that should’ve gotten you disqualified. In Gonggi, you had accidentally dropped a Jack at the very last second, but instead of making you start all over again, the guard posted at your side made an O.

Hell, you could’ve sworn the guard’s eyes were on you the entire time. There was no chance they didn’t see your slip up.

So why did they still let you go?

And then, it happened again in Mingle. During the last round, you were unable to find a partner in time on the carousel. In your fit of desperation, you had run into one of the rooms, only to find a very traumatized player already sitting inside. 

And, what was even stranger was that no matter how hard someone pounded at your room, it wouldn’t budge. It was almost as if the door had locked itself before the timer ran out.

What the hell was going on? Do you really have a secret guardian angel protecting you, or were the game creators just that careless?

You paused, then punted the last part of that thought to the stratosphere. 

If that were true, it wouldn’t align with the actions of the soldiers when it came to other players. 

You remembered how stingy they were with the rules, and how a guard even disqualified a team’s toss because one of the men had accidentally stepped a little further than the boundary line.

Maybe your guardian angel would help you with your next game too and just hand your victory to you on a silver platter.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as a heavy sigh escaped you.

Fuck, all of this thinking was making your head hurt.

In truth, you knew you really shouldn’t be so ungrateful at how you survived for this long. Hell, you were even willing to bet your entire life savings that most of the players would kill to have the luck you possessed now.

 But… the fact that you’re still alive unnerved you. And at times, you even felt like you were being watched.

After a few more minutes of fruitlessly twisting and turning in your bed, you sighed.

You needed to go to the bathroom to freshen up.

Awkwardly, you pulled your blankets aside and climbed down your bunk bed. The room was deathly quiet, and you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through your body as you stared into the inky abyss surrounding you.

For fuck’s sake, get a grip! You’ve already survived literal death games; a little bit of darkness shouldn’t scare you, You chided yourself.

Shaking your head, you spread your arms out and slowly walked over to the bathroom.

The triangle guard on the other side stared at you blankly when you asked them to open the door. You blushed, running a hand along your neck as you started spouting out some nonsense on how your stomach hurt and you really needed to go.

When you had almost considered giving up, the door slid open.

“A-ah. Thank you!” You squeaked, and hurried in.

The guard froze, their shoulders stilling. Then, they nodded, before turning back to their station.

The second you entered the bathrooms, it almost felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

Signing for what felt like the umpteenth time, you walked over to the sink and splashed water onto your face. 

The cold liquid was like a blessing to your sweaty face. 

You smiled into your reflection. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

And then you heard footsteps approaching.

—

After making sure no one was watching her, No-eul strided into the bathroom, a confident smirk on her face. In the still quiet of the room, she could hear her own heartbeat reverberating around her eardrums.

Finally, she was able to be alone with you.

When she opened the door, it took all her willpower not to pounce at you.

You looked so…adorable in there alone, with water still clinging to your chin. Oh, No-eul just wanted to gobble you up.

You backed away, and No-eul could see the familiar look of fear on your face. You were scared. Of her.

She tsked. She would not let that stand.

“Why are you looking so scared, honey?” No-eul purred. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

 Her hand retrieved a key from her pocket, and she used it to lock the door.

You swallowed, arms instinctively crossed around your chest.

“F-forgive me, miss, but that is a little hard to believe when you just locked the door. So that it’s just us. Alone.” 

That last part was barely audible, even in the quiet night.

No-eul’s smirk grew wider.

“Awwwe, would me taking my mask off help with that, love?” 

Your cheeks turned a dark auburn at the mere suggestion, and you doubled back. As she reached for her mask, you tried to stop her.

“Isn’t that against the rules? Won’t you…get in trouble?” You ask, genuine concern lacing your words.

No-eul laughed softly, shaking her head.

“I’ve already broken the rules by just talking to you, baby,” She tilted her head, closing the distance between you two. “What’s one more?”

Your throat bobbed up and down. You looked like you were about to argue, but didn’t.

“If that’s what you want, miss,” You mumbled at last, gaze turning to the floor.

No-eul laughed again.

 She knew she made the right choice in sparing you.

She unclasped the straps to her mask.

—

Fuck.

Fuck.

The guard in front of you was taking her mask off. And she looked so fucking hot.

She already had a hot enough voice. Her face card was enough to kill you.

You know what, maybe you didn’t mind dying if this was her face. You would be leaving the Earth with your little gay heart doing backflips.

Unconsciously, you took a hesitant step forward.

The woman smiled, and extended her hand.

“Do you like what you see, love?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

She hummed approvingly, reaching to caress your face gently with her hand. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this, baby. Fuck, you look so precious like this, I could just eat you up.”

The way she enunciated her words made you whimper uncontrollably. This close, you could see every little detail in her face. There was a fresh cut on her cheek, and pretty little dimples littering her mouth. Her lips were plump, but a little chapped.

You wondered how sweet her mouth would taste.

Wait, what?

For fuck’s sake, you literally just met the woman! And she was a guard! You couldn’t possibly be swooning at her already!

But, as you looked at her again, your mind couldn’t help but wander. Would she pin you to the wall and kiss you roughly? Or would she be gentler in her approaches?

“Were you the one who was watching me?” You asked at last, turning to meet her gaze.

Something flashed in her eyes. Something predatory.

“My, my, did you catch on at last?” The guard cooed, hands moving to wrap themselves around your waist. “I supposed the truth would have to get out eventually.”

She pushed you so that your face landed on her chest. Her scent filled your nostrils, comforting you in such a way that made you feel boneless.

Slowly, she leaned in, her breath tickling your ear as she whispered, “Did you realize I was protecting you too?”

As soon as you registered those words, you gasped. 

In your surprise, you broke out of her embrace and gaped at her.

Already, you were beginning to miss her touch.

The guard pouted at you when you left her arms, but made no move to pull you back in.

“It was you?” You blurted out, still in shock.

A Cheshire grin danced on her lips.

“Of course, love. I was the one who didn’t shoot you in Red Light Green Light, I approved of your Gonggi performance, and I jammed that door for you.”

You freeze, not quite sure what to think. On one hand, the idea of a pink soldier protecting a player was so outlandish! A part of you didn’t believe her.

But…on the other hand, what she said lined up with the unusualness following you. It made sense that, if they chose to, a guard sparing you could be the difference between life and death.

All that left you was one, burning question.

“Why?”

The woman’s nostrils flared, and an unreadable expression adorned her face. She stepped towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s because I couldn’t let you die, love.”

She paused.

“Do you remember how you looked during the first game? You were so scared, so small. I wanted to protect you.”

Her eyes grew feverish.

“I only want what’s best for you, baby.”

Your heart thundered.

What the hell?

“But, we don’t know each other! I’ve never met you in my life—“

“Oh, but that doesn’t matter, sweetie,” The guard purred, running a finger along your cheek. “We can take our time getting to know each other later. When you’re safe from the games.”

Blood was roaring in your ears. You knew you were supposed to feel scared at her reaction, but something primal inside you relished in it. 

Seemingly noticing your shift in demeanor, the woman leaned in close and kissed you chastely on the forehead.

Obsessively, she hugged you once again, though this time her embrace was tighter. 

“Would you like that baby? Be taken care of by me? You wouldn’t have to ever be worried again.”

She said the word in between kisses, peppering your face but never touching your lips.

“We would be so happy together.”

Her hands wandered, one pressing against the back of your head while the other rested on your waist.

Despite yourself, you leaned into her touch and wrapped your arms around her. You soaked in her attention, in how desperate she seemed to want to protect you.

You liked the feeling of being loved.

The next time she leaned down to kiss you, you purposefully angled your face so that your lips connected.

The guard gasped softly, but didn’t pull away.

In fact, she deepened the kiss.

You moan softly, opening your mouth and letting her tongue explore it. 

Mindlessly, she lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around her waist.

When the two of you parted for air, a string of spit connected your lips.

Mesmerized, you brought a finger to your face. 

“I guess you really are my guardian angel,” You mumbled.

The woman only smiled again, and pinched your cheek.

“The name’s No-eul, by the way.”

A/N: Hahaha I stayed up so late writing this ;__:. There actually will be a part two to this! I was planning on writing it all today but I genuinely don’t think I can get it all out without it being utter trash 😭

Please let me know if you liked it! I live for your comments.

[Im going to collapse onto my bed now]

[revelboo]

hi! idk if you are taking requests right now, but if you are, could i ask for sunder dealing with a human psychologist trying to help him? (maybe a joker and harleen quinzel dynamic?)

I’ll try. Title is Whipped Cream by Ludo

Whipped Cream

Sunder x Reader

• Chains slithering against the berth they’d bound him to, he halfheartedly tugs at them again even though he knows they aren’t budging. They never do. Head falling back, he grits his denta to keep from laughing. They’re right there. Just outside the door. All those lovely minds to play in and he can’t get at them. Starving and frustrated. How long has he been here alone? Times a bit difficult to gauge since they only come in to force feed him energon occasionally, wrapped up in protective gear to keep him out. Lunging suddenly against his bonds, he screams out his fury. And hears a soft cry in answer.

• Staggering, you slam into a wall, vision blurry with tears. Have no idea what just happened, but it felt like being shredded apart and crudely put back together. Falling to your knees and dry heaving, unable to breathe like your lungs can’t remember how before you shudder and gasp. Slumping over, you let the shaking rattle you to the bone as the pain needles through you. And you hear a low, guttural growl of noises. Whatever happened, wherever you are, you’re not alone.

• Straining to see, he’s stares at the small shape on the floor of his cell. An organic? Where had you come from? But then your fear and misery spark through his mind. Thrashing against his chains, hunger lashes him. And he reaches his thoughts for you, sinking in. Not Cybertronian, but there’s still memories to lose himself in. But as he pulls them to him, they come apart and just reform. Stilling as his lips part, he keeps reaching. Little sips of you that he can’t destroy. Why can’t he devour you? What are you? Swimming through your mind, learning you, he slowly smiles.

• “Poor, little love. So much pain.” Your head snaps up at that silken, dark voice. Mouth falling open as you spot the big, metal monster chained down. “Don’t fear.” And it, he, smiles at you, expression softening. Those pretty, blue optics snaring you as a sense of safety spills into you. “I can ease your suffering,” he croons, servos twitching. That voice is dark velvet stroking over you. Coaxing. Sliding up the wall, you stand. Wanting him to help you, to help him. “That’s right, love. Come to me. You know me.”

• Crooning as he plays with your thoughts, trying to twist them to him. Because he’s desperate to get his servos on you, mnemonic needles sliding out of his fingertips as he arches. So hungry. Just a taste, let him drown himself in your memories. And then you rock to a stop. Backing away, he feels your sudden fear. “What are you doing?” That soft, sweet voice surprising him as you retreat back to the far wall. You can’t feel him in you. No one ever does. “Get out of my head,” you gasp and he jolts when you manage to push him out. Shocked, he shivers in a mix of desperation and fascination. How are you resisting?

• “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.” That voice chimes through you, calling to you to come to him. Making you want to do whatever he wants. Covering your ears with your hands, you slide down to sit feeling weak and shaky. Can feel him in your head, spreading like poison and there’s a disjointed sense of hunger and desperation. His? Yours? You can’t tell. “Sunder. My name. I’m sorry, I’ve just been alone for so long.” That voice. Head lifting, he smiles at you and those optics are so deep you can get lost in them, hearing yourself whispering your own name to this monster.

[its-avalon-08]

the paths we didn't take (cl16)

part6!

multipart story! part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Summary : Years ago, Charles Leclerc and Y/N promised to let each other go—for his dreams, for her freedom. No calls, no texts, just memories they buried deep. But when fate reunites them in Monaco, old scars and unresolved feelings resurface. Some loves are unforgettable, but can they find their way back, or is it too late?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

Chapter 6: "The Weight of the Past"

The silence stretched between them, the noise of the party fading into an indistinct hum. Y/N’s mind raced, memories and emotions swirling in a chaotic dance. Charles looked just as stunned, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

Before either of them could break the tension, a voice called out from behind Charles, cutting through the thick air.

“There you are, babe!”

Y/N blinked, her gaze shifting just as a woman stumbled toward Charles, clearly tipsy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a clumsy embrace. Her laughter was light and carefree, completely oblivious to the charged moment she had interrupted.

“God, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” the woman murmured, leaning up to press a kiss on Charles’s lips. She giggled, her fingers threading through his hair, her hold on him possessive and intimate.

Charles didn’t immediately respond, his eyes flickering back to Y/N, still caught in the gravity of their unexpected reunion. But the woman didn’t seem to notice, her attention fully on him as she whispered something inaudible, her lips brushing against his cheek.

Y/N’s stomach twisted painfully, the weight of the scene before her crushing. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, her heart pounding in her chest as she took an instinctive step back. Her eyes burned, the sting of unshed tears threatening to spill over.

“I—” Y/N stammered, the words catching in her throat. She needed to get out, needed air, needed distance.

Charles reached out, as if to stop her, but his movement was slow, hesitant. His girlfriend clung to him, unaware of the silent storm brewing between them.

Y/N forced a tight smile, the mask of composure slipping into place even as her heart fractured. “It was nice seeing you,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper, before turning on her heel.

She weaved through the crowd, her vision blurred and her chest tight. The laughter and music around her seemed distant, her mind spinning as she hurriedly made her way toward the exit. The night air hit her like a shock, cool and crisp, but it did little to ease the storm inside.

She didn’t look back.

----

Charles stood frozen, his mind reeling from what had just happened. Y/N. After all these years, she had been right there, in front of him, and then gone just as quickly. His heart raced, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind, struggling to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over him.

“Charles, are you even listening to me?” his girlfriend’s slurred voice cut through his haze. She tugged at his arm, pouting when he didn’t immediately respond.

“Huh? What?” Charles blinked, his gaze shifting to her, but his mind was still miles away, replaying Y/N’s shocked expression, the way her voice had trembled when she said his name.

“I said, let’s go get another drink,” she whined, pulling him toward the bar, nearly stumbling in her heels. “You’re acting weird.”

Charles sighed, trying to shake off the confusion swirling in his chest. “I’m just... thinking.”

“Thinking? About what?” she asked, her tone playful but insistent. “It’s a party, Charles. Relax! Have fun!” She pressed herself against him, her lips brushing against his neck, but he barely registered the touch.

“Seriously, can you just... give me a minute?” he muttered, stepping back slightly, but she clung on tighter, refusing to let go.

“A minute? You’ve been so distant all night!” she protested, her words slurring. “What’s wrong with you? You’re not even looking at me.”

“I’m just—” Charles ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He needed space, needed to breathe, but she was relentless, her drunk state making her clingier than usual. “I’m fine, just... a lot on my mind.”

She huffed, crossing her arms in a pout. “A lot on your mind? Like what? This is supposed to be fun, Charles! You’re ruining the vibe.”

Charles’s jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. “Can you stop for a second? Please?”

She blinked, taken aback by his sudden sharpness. “What’s your problem tonight? You’ve been weird since I found you. Did something happen?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. How could he even begin to explain what had just happened? That he had just come face-to-face with the girl who had once been his entire world? The girl he thought he had moved on from, only to feel everything rush back the moment he saw her again?

“It’s nothing,” he finally said, his voice tight. “Just... drop it, okay?”

His girlfriend frowned, clearly unhappy but too drunk to push further. She reached for her drink, taking a long sip before leaning into him again. “Fine. But you owe me for being such a buzzkill.”

Charles nodded absently, his thoughts already drifting back to Y/N. He could still see her face, the hurt in her eyes as she fled the party. His chest tightened, the weight of their past pressing down on him like a physical burden.

“I need some air,” he mumbled, gently prying her arms off him.

“What? No! You can’t leave me alone!” she whined, grabbing his hand.

“I’m not leaving,” he reassured her, though his mind was elsewhere. “Just need a minute.”

She pouted but relented, slumping onto a nearby couch. “Fine. But hurry back. You owe me a dance.”

Charles nodded, already stepping away, the noise of the party fading into the background. His mind was a mess, emotions swirling as he tried to make sense of everything. Seeing Y/N again had opened a floodgate he hadn’t even realized was still there, and now he was drowning in the memories, the what-ifs, and the unresolved feelings.

He stepped outside, the cool night air hitting him like a balm, though it did little to ease the storm inside. He leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights, his thoughts consumed by the girl who had once been everything to him.

“Y/N...” he whispered into the night, the name tasting familiar yet foreign on his tongue. What had just happened? And why did it feel like his heart was breaking all over again?

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@janeh22 @tobucina @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @weekendlusting

@wisestarfishbouquet @ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins

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@ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins @vyctorya @f1fantasys

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 38 LAST NIGHT WAS A MOVIE

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | sexual innuendos, swearing

NOTES | smau/written/smau format for this chapter!! also we're super close to the end now gang I'm excited 😼

"Hey, come in." Y/n let Jaemin into her apartment, smiling awkwardly—something Jaemin's seen countless times before— only it had never been directed at him.

They weren't awkward. They didn't do awkward. Or, at least, they hadn't.

His heart sinks just a little.

"Hey, how have you been keeping?" Jaemin asks the question, and as natural as it feels, he wishes he hadn't asked at all. He didn't need to anyway. Not with her.

Jaemin doesn't think he had ever asked Y/n that question. It wasn't what they did, who they were. They didn't need to ask, they just knew.

And even now, when everything seems to have changed, some things are exactly the same, like how Y/n fiddles with a loose strand of her hair, and rocks back and forth on the couch.

He tries desperately to ignore the fact that she'd chosen to sit as far away from him as possible, instead waiting for an answer to his question.

But when she does speak, Jaemin can't bear to hear the response.

"I'm fin-" he interejcts, not wanting to have to see her lie to his face.

"You're nervous," he states, a matter of fact, "don't be peach." his tone softens, his eyes locked on hers, but she doesn't look his way at all.

"How are you?" Y/n's eyes are trained to the floor.

Jaemin hates it.

The question feels too empty, like they're two strangers just passing each other by. Making small talk, it wasn't something they'd ever done, and he didn't want to start now.

He can't help himself when he shuffles towards her, the soft touch of his fingers just below her chin, causing her to look up. And thought she doesn't look into his eyes just yet, Jaemin smiles, knowing she's looking at him. The racing of his heart eases just a little.

Despite the thick air in the room, the weight of the situation, despite the invisible force between them that tugged in all the wrong places, despite all those differences, one thing remained unchanged.

All these years later, Y/n looked his way just the same. Like he was everything. Her everything.

"Look at me, angel," his hand rests softly against her cheek, cradling it, as though she was the most precious thing, "it wasn't your fault."

That causes her eyes to snap upwards, meeting his.

And Jaemin sees it, clear as day, the guilt in her eyes. He wishes he could take it in his hand, pull those thoughts out of her mind and see her, the Y/n who never went through this at all. He wishes she wouldn't blame herself. He wished he could erase the memories, erase it all.

But Jaemin knew that it wasn't possible.

"Me and you," he looks at her, gaze deeper, more intense, "We're stronger than this." His voice comes deep, low and soothing, laced with such tenderness that Y/n hears her heartbeat resounding in her ears. "I won't let this ruin us anymore."

It felt like a promise. A dream.

Y/n swears she can't breathe, no amount of air enough for her to finally exhale. He was right, but somehow, it all seemed too good to be true. She found herself too caught up in everything that had passed, analysing each moment like something more was yet to come, like she'd missed something. Like a plot twist waiting to happen, a hidden truth waiting to stab her in the heart.

"I should have known better." Her words come out, barely a whisper, the ache in Jaemin's chest growing as her notices how her eyes begin to water.

"You didn't know Y/n." as much as Jaemin wants to admit his mistakes, express just how badly he wishes he'd just heard her out, listened to her side of the story just once, he can't, afraid that he'll break. And if he did, she would too.

"I just wish it never happened," she sighed, her voice shaking desperately, "i just wish you were there, I wish it wasn't us."

She almost doesn't make any sense, but that's what Jaemin was best at, understanding her when she barely understood herself."I know angel," he leaned forward, gently laying a kiss to her forehead, "but we made it, didn't we?"

Y/n gulps, nodding. Her throat feels dry despite wanting to scream out in agreement.

Jaemin's eyes overflow, with warmth, with adoration, with assurance.

They'd made it out. They always would.

"Then that's all that matters."

prev | masterlist | next

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[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - Cry Baby

Summary - Overwhelmed by the weight of expectations surrounding her marriage, she finds herself unravelling. As panic consumes her, Aegon, becomes her anchor, soothing her through the storm of self-doubt, reminding her that she is enough, even when she feels broken.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Panic attack

Word count - 2068

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

I think I worry a lot, I need to take it easy. I got this anxious feeling but it goes away for a minute when I'm with you breathing.

The room suddenly seemed to shrink around me, the air thickening, suffocating.

My chest tightened as if the fabric of my dress had become a vice, squeezing every breath from my lungs. Each inhale felt like a battle I was losing.

My vision blurred, and the faint murmur of voices echoed in my ears—distant, warped like I was underwater. I couldn't make out the words, just the sound of someone speaking, but I was too far gone to understand.

I blinked, willing myself to focus, but everything was slipping out of my control.

My hands trembled violently, slick with sweat, as I pressed them hard against my stomach, trying to still the churning nausea that twisted inside me.

I was unravelling, right there in front of everyone, and I couldn't stop it.

"I... I need to leave," I stammered, the words barely escaping my lips.

My voice sounded foreign, small. I stood, shaky and disoriented, as beads of sweat dripped down my forehead.

I had to get out. I had to escape before the walls swallowed me whole.

I stumbled through the doors, out into the dimly lit corridor. My fingers brushed the cool stone walls, desperately searching for stability, for something real to cling to.

Tears blurred my vision as my breaths became shorter, more frantic, each one a gasp, each one a struggle. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

I slid down the wall, the stone biting into my back as I collapsed onto the floor.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably, and I rubbed them against my legs, trying to force them still, but they wouldn't listen.

My chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow bursts.

"Stop... please, just stop," I whispered to myself, my voice breaking as silent tears streamed down my face.

I was drowning, trapped in my own body, and I didn't know how to pull myself out.

"Love?"

His voice broke through the chaos, gentle but strong, cutting through the panic like a lifeline. I didn't need to look up to know it was him. 

I couldn't. I couldn't bear to see the worry in his eyes, the concern I didn't deserve.

In an instant, he was there, kneeling beside me, his presence anchoring me to something solid. His hands, warm despite the clamminess of my own, enveloped mine.

"Breathe, my love," he whispered, his voice steady, calm, like the eye of the storm I was caught in.

He breathed deeply, slowly, showing me what to do, urging me to follow him. I tried—Gods, I tried—to match his rhythm, to pull the air into my lungs like he was.

"That's it. Just like that," he coaxed, his voice soft and encouraging as he intertwined his fingers with mine.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the world around me began to settle. My breath, though shaky, started to mirror his, the frantic pace easing just a little.

I closed my eyes, letting my head fall forward as more tears spilt, but this time, they weren't out of panic—they were from the release, from the relief of knowing I wasn't alone in this.

He pulled me close, holding me as though his arms could shield me from the chaos in my mind, his whispered reassurances the only sound I needed.

And in that moment, in his arms, I let myself break.

I let myself feel every tear, every sob that wracked my chest, knowing he would catch each one and hold me through it all.

"What happened, darling?" he asked softly, pulling back just enough to brush the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, the gentleness in his touch contrasting with the deep concern etched into his features.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "It's nothing, Aegon," I murmured, though the words felt hollow, barely audible even to myself.

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face as he studied me.

"It was not nothing if it caused you such distress," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

I could see the worry deepening in his eyes, the way his brow furrowed, and I knew his mind was racing, running through a thousand scenarios, each one worse than the last.

I hesitated, my gaze drifting away from his, lost somewhere in the distance. The weight of the words I needed to say pressed down on my chest.

"One of the ladies... she said something," I began, my voice faltering. "She spoke about the... the lack of a child in our marriage. That... that the shortcomings must mean I am to blame."

The last words came out as a whisper, a quiet confession soaked in shame, my voice breaking as I said them.

I couldn't bring myself to look at him, couldn't bear to see the disappointment I was certain would be there.

"I'm trying," I continued, my voice trembling. "I swear, Aegon, I'm doing everything the maester tells me to. I follow every instruction, every remedy. I don't know what's wrong with me."

My words were desperate now, raw with the fear that had gnawed at me for so long, fear that maybe they were right. Maybe it was me.

Before I could say more, Aegon's hand gently but firmly cupped my chin, tilting my face up so that I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

His eyes, intense yet filled with unwavering tenderness, locked onto mine.

"Don't you dare blame yourself," he said, his voice low but resolute, each word a quiet command.

His thumb brushed over my cheek again, wiping away the lingering tears. "Do you hear me? Not for a second."

I blinked, my breath hitching as his words sank in, but the doubt still lingered in the pit of my stomach. "But Aegon... the court, the whispers... they blame me. I've heard it—over and over, they say it's the woman's fault. That I'm not doing enough."

A flicker of anger flashed in his eyes, but it wasn't directed at me.

"Those women—those people—know nothing," he said, his voice steely now, protective.

"They speak in ignorance, in cruelty. They don't see what I see. They don't know the strength, the heart, the love you've poured into this marriage, into us. You are not to blame for this, do you understand?"

His words were firm, but there was something deeper beneath them—a vulnerability he rarely let show.

I could see it now, the frustration, the helplessness, the weight of the expectations placed on both of us, yet he held none of that against me.

Instead, he pulled me closer, his forehead resting gently against mine.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "With or without a child, with or without an heir. You are more than enough for me, always. Please, believe that."

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his words.

The storm of guilt and inadequacy that had been raging inside me began to quiet, even if just for a moment, as I felt the strength of his love wrapping around me like a shield.

I pressed my face into his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath my cheek.

I pulled back slightly, wiping at my tear-streaked face as a fresh wave of guilt settled over me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have let this affect me so much. It's just so trivial, and I—"

"Stop," Aegon interrupted, his voice sharp enough to catch me off guard. He shifted, his hands tightening on my arms, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Please, darling, stop doing this to me."

Confused, I blinked up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, the remnants of my panic still lingering in the air between us.

"Doing what?" I asked softly, unsure where this sudden shift was coming from.

"Apologising," he said, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and heartache. "Apologising like this, as if I've ever made you feel like you had to. As if I've ever given you any reason to believe that you need to be sorry for feeling the way you feel."

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain that I didn't mean it like that, but his words caught me off guard, silencing me before I could speak.

"I mean it," he continued, softer now, though the tension in his voice still lingered.

"You're always apologising, always trying to convince yourself—and me—that your feelings aren't valid, or that you're a burden for having them. And it... it hurts, love. It hurts that you think you have to say sorry for being vulnerable with me."

"I don't mean to make you feel like that," I whispered, my throat tight with emotion.

"I know you don't," he said, his eyes softening as he cupped my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him.

"But you are never, never a burden to me. Not for feeling. Not for having moments like this. Don't you see? I want you to come to me when you're hurting, when you're scared when everything feels too heavy. That's what I'm here for, what I've always been here for."

I shook my head, fresh tears threatening to spill over. "But this... it's so trivial, Aegon. People are going through real struggles, and I'm falling apart over some cruel words."

"Don't do that," he said, his thumb gently brushing against my cheek.

"Don't compare your pain to others as if it's less worthy. What hurts you, hurts me. I don't care what it is—whether it's the weight of court, the pressure, or the cruel whispers you hear. It matters, you matter."

I let out a shaky breath, his words sinking in, breaking through the cloud of self-doubt that had been suffocating me.

"I just... I don't want to be weak," I admitted softly, the fear of disappointing him sitting heavy in my chest.

"Weak?" he repeated, incredulous.

"You're the strongest person I know. Do you think I don't see how much you carry every single day? How you keep going, even when the world tries to tear you down? Don't mistake having emotions for weakness, love. It takes more strength than you realize to feel the way you do and to keep standing."

I felt his arms wrap around me again, pulling me into the warmth of his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding me.

"You never have to apologise to me for being who you are," he whispered against my hair.

"Not for a single tear, not for a single moment of doubt or fear. I love you, all of you—every part, even the pieces you think are broken."

I swallowed hard, the tightness in my throat making it hard to speak. "I just... I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," he murmured, his lips brushing the top of my head.

"But, please, stop apologising for something that was never wrong to begin with. If I've ever made you feel like you had to, then I've failed you."

I pulled back slightly to look up at him, my heart aching at the depth of emotion in his eyes.

"You've never made me feel like that," I said softly, meaning it with every fibre of my being. "I just... sometimes I think I'm not enough. Not enough for you, not enough for this life."

He shook his head, his gaze fierce as he cupped my face again, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. "You are more than enough. Always. Never doubt that."

For a moment, I couldn't speak, overwhelmed by the intensity of his love, the way he held me like I was something precious, like I wasn't something broken like I was enough.

"Promise me," he whispered, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "Promise me you'll stop apologising for what you feel."

I nodded, my voice barely audible. "I promise."

And in that moment, I realized that maybe I didn't have to carry everything on my own. Maybe I didn't have to apologize for needing him.

Because no matter how much the world tried to make me feel small, in his arms, I was never anything less than everything.

I know I'll fall in love with you, baby and that's just what I'll do. I hope you won't ever lie to me and if you do, I know I won't be your cry baby.

A/n - This did a 360 so fast, I honestly have no idea if I acc like this or not x

[arabella0001]

my scenarios at night be like

breaking tradition with Kakashi Hatake

genre: soft romance | wedding fluff | gentle humour

You tugged at the stubborn sash, frustration bubbling as the delicate fabric twisted the wrong way for the third time.

“Why is this so complicated?” you muttered, yanking at the knot with little success.

A quiet tap echoed from the door.

“Can I come in?” Kakashi’s familiar voice slipped through the thin paper door.

“You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony,” you shot back, still wrestling the attire.

A pause. Then—slide.

Kakashi stepped inside, his calm gaze immediately finding the tangle of fabric in your hands.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a superstition,” he said, leaning casually against the frame.

You huffed, tugging at the knot harder. “It’s about tradition, Kakashi.”

He crossed the room in a few steps, brushing your hands aside with gentle confidence. “Here. Let me.”

Words formed on your tongue, but you swallowed them, letting his fingers work through the mess. His touch was deliberate, unhurried, until the sash finally fell into place.

“You’re overthinking it,” he murmured, smoothing the sleeves over your shoulders.

“I just… want everything to be perfect,” you admitted, your teeth grazed the inside of your cheek.

Kakashi’s eye softened, his head tilting slightly. “It already is. You’re marrying me, after all.”

You laughed, swatting at his arm. “A little full of yourself, aren’t you?”

He leaned in just a touch closer, his voice warm and low. “Confident.”

Heat prickled at your ears as his hand lingered at your waist.

“I should kick you out now,” you mumbled.

“Mm. Or…” His lips brushed against your temple through the mask, his breath soft against your skin. “You could let me stay a little longer.”

You shook your head but didn’t step away.

Maybe tradition could wait.

Kakashi’s heart thudded beneath his composed exterior.

For someone who lived most of his life in shadows, standing here felt unreal.

He something think he didn’t deserve this—not after everything. Yet here you were, flustered and radiant, fighting with wedding attire like it was an unruly enemy. You make sure this wasn’t the case.

His fingers stayed at your waist, adjusting the fabric with more care than necessary. If he was honest, he didn’t want to let go.

You shifted, brushing at the sleeve nervously. “You’re staring.”

Kakashi blinked, his hand still resting against you.

“I was just thinking…” His voice lowered as his hand trailed lightly down your arm. “You look beautiful. I’m not sure how I convinced you to marry me, but I’m not about to question it.”

Air snagged in your throat, eyes lifting to meet his. “Kakashi—”

He smirked beneath his mask. “What? I can’t compliment my bride?”

Your cheeks warmed as you tried to step away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you there.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

You glanced away, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to hold his gaze.

“Stop that,” you mumbled. “I’m going to mess up my makeup.”

Kakashi chuckled, pressing his masked lips lightly to your temple. “I’ll fix it for you if you do.”

Flustered, you shoved him gently toward the door. “Go, or I really will kick you out.”

His touch stayed, leaving behind the faintest trace of his warmth.

Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Kakashi had faced S-ranked missions and rogue ninjas, but standing at the altar made his palms sweat beneath his gloves.

Calm down.

Across the courtyard, you stood calm and radiant, while he felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs.

How did I even get here?

The ceremony was simple—quaint, Kakashi had called it. Close friends, familiar faces, and a soft breeze that carried your vows through the quiet air.

The reception? A different story.

Naruto stood front and center, already halfway through an impromptu speech, cup raised high.

“Honestly, Kakashi-sensei, I didn’t think this day would ever come!” Naruto grinned, scratching his head. “I figured you’d just keep reading those weird books forever.”

The crowd chuckled, and you shot Kakashi a glance. His shoulders stiffened slightly, but his hand slipped over yours beneath the table—a silent plea for patience.

Naruto wasn’t done. “But, you know… I guess if anyone deserves someone like (Y/N), it’s you. You’ve been through a lot. And—uh—yeah.” He laughed awkwardly. “I’m not great at this, but I’m happy for you, Kakashi-sensei. Really.”

Kakashi exhaled, the corner of his eye crinkling in quiet gratitude.

Then Gai stood.

“AH, KAKASHI!” he bellowed, tears already streaming down his face as Lee patted him on the back. “My eternal rival has found love at last! We’ve waited for this day for so long!”

Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gai, please—”

“But to see you embrace the flames of love! Our rivalry will transcend into new heights—marriage challenges! Couples’ retreats!”

“Gai,” Kakashi groaned, though the hand beneath the table remained steady in yours.

The laughter didn’t end there.

Tsunade swirled the sake in her cup, her cheeks tinged pink.

“I always thought you’d marry your job,” she mused, smirking. “Turns out (Y/N)’s the only one stubborn enough to put up with you.”

The room erupted again, and Kakashi chuckled softly beside you.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he murmured just for you.

His eye met yours, the world around him fading into a blur.

This wasn’t just love—it was peace.

As the ceremony began, Kakashi’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing gently over yours. You squeezed back, grounding him.

When the moment arrived, Kakashi stood before you, his hands at your waist, his mask just inches away.

You smiled up at him, fingertips brushing over the fabric.

“They’re waiting,” you whispered.

With an exaggerated sigh, Kakashi tugged the mask down, letting it pool around his chin.

The courtyard fell silent.

Naruto’s cup slipped from his hand.

Kakashi kissed you, staying just long enough to bask in the quiet shock.

When he pulled back—mask firmly in place—he glanced at the stunned crowd.

“Got you.” he replied as you smile at him.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Gonna need a nando x reader one shot where reader gets insanely jealous maybe she over hears her cousin she doesn’t like very much talking about nando but reader and nando aren’t together at this point I don’t know you make the plot up just want angst and fluff to end again please 🙏

"More Than Enough"

It was another one of those family gatherings where you felt like a pawn in the game of comparison and judgment. You'd known your relatives your whole life, but their words and looks always made you feel small, insignificant—like you never quite measured up to their expectations.

Most of the time, you learned to tune them out. But tonight, with Fernando Alonso present, it was harder than ever to do so.From a young age, your family had made you feel like you were always on the outside.

Your cousin Isabella, with her perfect, airbrushed life, was a constant reminder that you were never good enough in their eyes. She was everything they wanted you to be—outgoing, confident, always polished. And you? Well, you were quieter. You preferred books over parties, simple joys over social status. In your family’s eyes, you were invisible, a wallflower.And then there was Fernando.

He wasn’t a stranger to you. You and Nando had been friends for years, but in the last few months, something between you had changed. There had been stolen glances, moments where his eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary.

He would brush your arm by accident, but the way his touch lingered made your heart flutter. You weren’t sure if he felt the same, but you had started to see him in a new light. It was terrifying. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he knew how much you cared for him.

What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he drifted away, and you lost the one constant thing in your life?Tonight, you had tried your best to avoid the reality of your emotions, burying them deep inside, but it was hard when you kept stealing glances at Nando across the room. His laughter, his infectious smile, the way his eyes seemed to search for yours in the crowd—it was all too much to ignore.

Every time you saw him, it felt like your heart skipped a beat. But you were scared, scared that these feelings would destroy your friendship.The tension between you and your family had always been palpable. Your parents, though not overtly cruel, would always make remarks that cut deep. You were never good enough in their eyes—your grades, your career choices, your social life—it was never up to their standards. And every time you left a family gathering, you felt worse about yourself than when you arrived.But Isabella? She was different.

She was everything your family praised. And when it came to Fernando? She made no secret of the fact that she thought she was the only one worthy of him.You had overheard her before, making passive-aggressive comments about your friendship with Nando. Tonight was no different.

You were in the kitchen, trying to escape the chaos of your family, when you heard Isabella’s voice from the living room.

You froze, your hands stilling as you tried to listen."Did you see Fernando today?" Isabella was saying, her tone too sweet for comfort. "He’s just… gorgeous, isn’t he? So perfect. And I’m sure he could have anyone.

But you know, some people don't even know how to show interest."

Your heart twisted painfully, a pang of jealousy you hadn’t realized was growing inside you suddenly bursting to the surface. You stood still, your body frozen, and listened to her laugh, the sound of it like nails on a chalkboard.

"And," she continued with a casual air, "I bet if I tried, I could take him away from her, don’t you think?"Your chest tightened at her words. Her—she meant you.

She always did.

You felt your hands tremble with frustration and hurt, but you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had struck a nerve.

You had to hold it together.You’d never told Fernando how you felt. You never would, not after everything your family had made you believe about yourself. You weren’t worthy of someone like him. Not with someone like Isabella around.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Your family’s loud chatter filled the room, but your mind was elsewhere—on the words that still echoed in your mind and on Fernando, who seemed to be a constant presence, even when he wasn’t right in front of you.

Every time you caught his eye, he would smile softly, and every time your gaze drifted to him, his eyes would linger just a moment too long.

You couldn’t figure it out��was it just friendly affection, or was there something more?Your heart ached, torn between wanting to tell him how you felt and the fear that it would ruin everything.

Finally, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed space. You slipped out the back door of the house and into the cool night air, hoping to breathe away the suffocating feeling that seemed to surround you. You stood there, staring out into the darkness, trying to push back the tears that were threatening to spill.

That’s when you heard footsteps behind you."Y/N?"You turned around, startled to see Fernando standing there, his eyes full of concern.

"What’s wrong? You look upset."You tried to smile, but it came out weak

"It’s nothing, Nando. Just… family stuff."

You waved it off, hoping he wouldn’t press further.But Nando wasn’t one to let things go so easily, especially when it came to you. He stepped closer, his hand gently brushing your arm.

"Talk to me," he said softly.

"What’s really going on?"The floodgates opened, and you found yourself spilling everything to him—everything about your family, your cousin, your insecurities.

You told him about how Isabella had always made you feel inferior, how your family’s constant criticism made you feel worthless.

You looked at Nando, expecting him to pull away, to let you go, but instead, he pulled you into his arms.“Y/N," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You are so much more than enough. I don’t care about Isabella, I don’t care about your family. You are perfect just the way you are.”Your heart shattered with relief as you felt the warmth of his embrace, his words washing over you like a balm.

He pulled back, looking into your eyes with so much tenderness that you felt your knees weaken. “Listen to me,” he said firmly. “I’ve always admired you, more than anyone. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel small. Especially her.”

For a moment, you just stood there, stunned, taking in the softness in his eyes. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed to hear those words, how much you needed him to say them.“I… I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nando,” you whispered, your voice trembling.“You’ll never have to find out,” he promised, his hand gently caressing your cheek.

There was a long, charged silence before Nando stepped back, his eyes now filled with a different intensity. “I don’t care if anyone else sees it, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and purposeful.

“But I care about you. I’ve cared about you for a long time. And I want everyone to know it.”

Before you could even process what he meant, he reached for your hand and led you back inside, where the rest of your family was still gathered.

Isabella’s sharp gaze immediately found you both, but she couldn’t have known what was coming.Nando stood in the center of the room, pulling you gently to stand beside him.

All eyes were on you as he turned to face you, his grip on your hand tightening.“I know we’ve been friends for a long time,” he said, his voice clear and unwavering. “But I can’t hide it anymore. Y/N, you mean more to me than anyone else. Will you be mine? Will you be my girlfriend?”

The room fell silent as everyone’s eyes snapped to you, and for a brief moment, you felt like you were in a dream. But then Nando’s lips found yours in a soft, reassuring kiss, and you couldn’t have cared less about what anyone else thought.You kissed him back, your heart pounding with happiness and relief as the weight of everything you had been carrying melted away.When the kiss broke, Nando kept you close, his forehead resting against yours.

“You are more than enough,” he whispered. “Don’t ever forget that.”Isabella, who had been standing in the corner with a shocked expression, opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get a word out, Fernando’s voice cut through the tension.“And as for you,” he said, his tone suddenly cold and firm, “if you ever think you can come between me and the person I care about again, I suggest you think twice. Y/N is my choice. Always.”

Your heart swelled with love, and you knew, in that moment, that you were finally seen. Finally, enough.As the evening continued, you could feel the eyes of your family on you.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Because you were exactly where you belonged—in Fernando’s arms, with his love, and knowing that, finally, you were enough.

[moonmaiden1996]

Zoro as a romantic partner- My thoughts

Alright, hear me out.

Zoro, the stoic, sword-wielding badass of One Piece, doesn’t show the slightest interest in romance—at least not in any of the arcs I’ve read or watched. He’s far too focused on his goals, his loyalty to Luffy, and his never-ending quest to become the greatest swordsman in the world. But... what if?

I’ve been thinking about what kind of partner Zoro might have, and honestly, the idea that keeps popping into my head is less “typical romance” and more... Tatsu from The Way of the Househusband. If you’re unfamiliar, Tatsu is an infamous and feared yakuza boss, nicknamed "The Immortal Dragon," who (after literally defeating all his enemies) leaves the crime world to become a devoted househusband to the woman who once cared for his wounds.

Now, while Zoro definitely wouldn’t go full Sanji mode (because, let’s be real, Zoro cooking is a kitchen fire waiting to happen), there’s something about that protector-turned-househusband energy that feels surprisingly fitting.

Let’s pause for a second on the Sanji comparison. Sanji is all about charm, flirtation, and over-the-top devotion to every woman he meets. He’s a master chef who pours his heart into crafting meals and showering people with compliments. Zoro, on the other hand, would never lower himself to something he might see as “cooking duty.” It’s just not his style.

But here’s the twist: if someone did something genuinely kind for Zoro—like how Miku cared for Tatsu in The Way of the Househusband when he gets injured—I feel like Zoro would be smitten (or at least, as smitten as Zoro can get). He’d show his appreciation in his own gruff way, and his feelings would manifest through actions rather than words.

Zoro’s approach would be much more subtle, quiet, and honestly, a little rough around the edges—more of a “guard dog” than a “gentleman chef.” He’s the type of guy who lets you sleep on him, beats up Sanji to make sure your favorite meal gets cooked, and stares down anyone foolish enough to think they have a shot at you. It’s that unspoken but undeniable protection that makes the idea of Zoro as a partner so intriguing.

Zoro strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn’t even notice someone as a potential romantic partner unless they demonstrated qualities he deeply values—like loyalty, strength, or determination. He’s stubborn as hell, and most attempts at flirtation would probably fly right over his head. But the moment someone proved their worth to him in a way that resonates, those blinders would come off so fast, and suddenly... boom. Enter Zoro, househusband—but with a twist.

I see him as a fiercely protective presence—the ultimate guard dog for his partner. He’d be the type to wordlessly handle problems before they even reached his significant other, standing as an unshakable shield against the world. Whether it’s physical threats or emotional support, Zoro would embody dependability and unwavering commitment. And let’s not forget—if his partner is equally supportive of him, this man would be unstoppable.

In this hypothetical scenario, Zoro doesn’t lose his edge; instead, he channels his loyalty and protective instincts into a new kind of role. And honestly? That blend of strength, dedication, and quiet care makes for a dynamic that’s as compelling as it is unexpected.

What do you think? Could Zoro be the ultimate househusband in his own unique way? Or is he just too much of a lone wolf for any of this to work?

[choccy-zefirka]

Emergency Follow-Up Book Club Meeting

[Won't really make sense if you don't read Part 1 first, but Tumblr will hide this post if I add a link, so search "book club" on my blog]

Attending: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, Neve, Davrin, Taash, Emmrich, Rook

Book: Adventures of Dolor the Daring, Volume 49, by I. L. Literatus Evaraas Mercar (Rook)

Notes taken by: Neve (Bellara was too overexcited to hold a quill)

Notes:

Important preface: This will likely be the serial’s last volume ever to be published. According to the paper sellers and my own sources, there is currently a lot of public outrage around the scene where Dolor gets hit by an enemy mage’s ice spike and, aside from wounding them for dramatic suspense, it also shatters a glamor amulet around their neck, revealing that they were not a human, but a Qunari all along. Reactions from (human) readers have included, to my knowledge: verbose letters to the publisher decrying the serial’s “forced diversity” in character backgrounds, as apparently it was already bad enough that the supporting cast is “teeming” with elves and dwarves; threats to the author as an “agent of the Qun” trying to “falsely paint their kind in a positive light”; laments from anguished mothers that their children will now think that the “oxmen” are all friendly heroes (I would point out that children have no business reading crime serials in the first place, but we know there’s no stopping a particularly determined twelve-year-old with a yearning to see a throat slit); and even high-brow critical essays insisting that Dolor has so far proven themselves to be far too quick-witted and intelligent to be a Qunari.

Rook opened the meeting by going over all of the above; which, according to them, was precisely what they feared when they picked up writing as a hobby. “It didn’t take you too long to figure out that Dolor’s adventures are based on my own,” they said, looking at me specifically (they did not seem angry, at least; though I suspect that Rook has trained their facial muscles not to betray them when they are angry, to put humans at ease). “But do I look like someone these adventures might happen to? In most people’s eyes, at least?”

Bellara and Harding disrupted the meeting to give Rook a hug.

Taash further disrupted the meeting with an offer to beat up every qalaba that made them feel like this. Lucanis supported them and volunteered his services to do it “more elegantly but also more permanently”. The offer was appreciated, but graciously declined.

Davrin asked if Rook regretted revealing Dolor’s true identity. Rook said they did not, and added that it was not a revelation, but a last-minute twist, which never would have happened if it were not for us. “I have been avoiding your book clubs because I was so embarrassed about my little secret… But it turns out I never had to hide it. Not from you.”

BEL, I CAN SEE YOU LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER. I AM NOT GETTING SENTIMENTAL. I AM JUST KEEPING AN ACCURATE RECORD!

Harding said that she found Dolor’s sendoff to be “quite lovely”, and in her mind, they are still out there, fighting evil mages on the streets of Tevinter as their true self, with their friends by their side.

Bellara stopped trying to contain herself and erupted into enthusiastic gushing about the final scene, where the heroes get a moment to breathe as the villain is dragged away by a very Rana-like templar, and the mage Flosculus gently tends to Dolor’s wounds. In the previous volume, Dolor assumed that their feelings for Flosculus were not reciprocated, and decided to bottle them up. This volume still ends before the two can have an open conversation — but the delicate touches of the healer’s glow-infused hands all across Dolor’s bandaged torso, and the soft whispers asking them to tell him where it hurts “had more spice than the one romance we read that made Lucanis walk out of the room in a straight line”.

I am inclined to agree.

Emmrich laughed at no, that would be too mean-spirited; let’s say, was very amused by Bellara’s stumbling over the word “spice” and told her, “You can say eroticism, dear. That was the intent, after all.”

Rook has quite a few vitiligo spots on their otherwise slate-grey face, and that makes it a little more obvious when blood rushes to their cheeks. Which it certainly did in that moment — as they admitted the healing scene was Emmrich’s idea, and they merely “did their best” to commit it to paper.

To which Emmrich said, “And you described everything marvelously, my darling. I hope you know that all of us in this room are deeply grateful to you for sharing your work with us”.

I am also inclined to agree with that last part. But also, let it go on record that Emmrich held Rook’s hand while talking. If he ever blinks those big eyes at me again and claims that he had “no idea” everyone in the Lighthouse knew about him and Rook, I will just point to the evidence.

The meeting concluded with everyone reassuring Rook that, despite what happened to the Dolor serial, they should never stop writing. Harding even said, tearing up a little, that Varric would be proud. That made Rook blush again; are they finally beginning to process what happened? I cannot be certain.

Once we settled down, dice were rolled to choose the next book. It is Emmrich’s turn now.

Taash begged him, with a groan, not to choose any of the “thousand-page academic shit”. He protested that he has amassed “quite a collection of enjoyable romance stories” over the years — and took Rook’s hand in his again.

I see you, old man.

[littlelamy]

hii i've not asked on here before buttt

hello! i love your writing! :)

this is rlly oddly specific but what abt bf rafe with reader who's just been rejected from her dream school/uni? how do you think he's react? deffo a hypothetical scenario idk what u mean

author's note: hiii angel!! omg first of all, thank you so much 🥹🩷 you’re too sweet!! and don’t worry, oddly specific is my love language fr 🤭💌

credits to @mochilly for the the divider <3

the email had come that morning, bright and early, before you’d even fully woken up. you’d rolled over in bed, squinting against the screen’s light, heart thrumming with nervous anticipation.

but by the time rafe woke up and came downstairs, his sweatshirt hanging lazily off his shoulders, he found you curled up on the couch, your face buried in your knees.

“hey, babe?” his voice was cautious, the kind of careful he only used when he could sense something was really wrong. “what’s going on?”

you didn’t answer at first, clutching the phone in your hand so tightly he thought it might snap.

when he crouched in front of you, his hands found your wrists gently, tugging your arms away from your legs just enough to peek at your face. red-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked cheek made his stomach twist.

“talk to me,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over the back of your hand.

“i didn’t get in.” the words spilled out like a dam breaking, followed by a shuddering breath. “i didn’t get in, rafe.”

for a second, he didn’t say anything. he just sat there, processing, watching the way your shoulders shook.

“okay,” he finally said, sliding onto the couch beside you and pulling you against his chest. “okay, we’ll figure it out.”

“you don’t get it.” your voice was muffled against his hoodie, frustration laced through every syllable. “this was it. my dream. everything i worked for, and they just… decided i’m not good enough.”

rafe’s grip on you tightened, his jaw flexing. “don’t say that. you’re more than good enough. you’re the smartest, hardest-working person i know, and if they can’t see that, then screw them. seriously.”

you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “easy for you to say.”

“no, it’s not,” he shot back, sitting up enough to make you look at him. his blue eyes burned with intensity, his expression dead serious. “because i see you busting your ass every day. i see how much you care, how much you want this. and yeah, this sucks, but you’re not going to let one stupid letter define you.”

his words softened, his hands cradling your face now. “i know you. you’ll find another way, another school, another path. you’re unstoppable like that.”

your lips quivered, and before you knew it, you were crying again—only this time, it wasn’t as hopeless. he kissed your forehead, lingering just long enough to make you feel safe.

“i love you,” he whispered against your skin. “and i’ve got your back, always. no matter what happens.”

and for the first time all day, you believed that you were going to be okay.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl

[elliereject]

only ever call me when you’re high

* you and ellie broke up forever ago, and yet you never fail to pick up when her name lights up your screen, only during the early morning, and only when she’s high.

* infidelity (abby my shayla ❤️), phone sex, mention and use of weed by ellie, pussyeating reader receiving, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, use of vibrators by both ellie and reader, angst and possible open ending (?), ellies kind of a jerk lol

* im sleepy but I wanted to get this out tonight, sorry if it’s buns it was supposed to be short 😭..i also suck at writing smut so apologies if that too is buns, i am open to a part 2 but idk what would happen and when it’d come out so pls don’t hesitate to lmk what you’d like to see…hope u enjoy !!

* mdni

* wc ~ 2.4k

Ellie had this terrible, terrible habit. One she told herself countless times that she would quit. But unfortunately, she never could.

You and Ellie had broken up months ago yet for some odd reason whenever she got high, which was frequently, she found herself dialing your number (one of the only ones she knew by heart) because something in her twisted, incapacitated mind craved to hear your voice.

In order to combat this, Dina made Ellie vow that she would only ever get high on the weekends or when she was feeling particularly stressed out and Ellie mostly followed through because she knew that Dina was right.

But tonight, tonight you had posted an especially scandalous picture in which you were at the beach, sitting in the sand with the straps of your bikini untied and your hand holding up the thin material that just barely covered your tits, your sun-kissed face was winking at the camera with a playful expression and she couldn’t fight the jealousy that sparked through her directed at whoever got to take that heavenly picture.

She had to get high, otherwise she was sure she’d end up punching a hole in the wall or throwing her switchblade at it, again.

She dug around in her bedside table until she found her lighter and one of her emergency pre-rolls. She clicked the lighter until the end of the rolled paper crisped up and started smoking, unveiling that familiar earthy scent.

She decided to pass the time between puffs by scrolling through your highlights and the rest of your posts. When she landed back on your beach post, the high finally hit her, along with another pang of jealousy and to nobody’s surprise, anger. “Who the..” She whispered to herself as she narrowed her eyes at the pinned comment,

abs.anderson: i saw these first 😉❤️

You had to be fucking kidding her, Abigail Anderson, that bitch of a friend you told her countless times not to worry about even though Ellie knew she liked you. Irritation overtook her and before she knew it her fingers were smashing in the digits that added up to your number.

It rang once, then twice before she heard the familiar grogginess of your voice.

“Hello?”

“Abby fucking Anderson?” She seethed.

She heard a sigh and the shuffling of your bedsheets before you answered, “Ellie, it’s...3 fucking AM. What the hell are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes even though you couldn’t see her, “Abby Anderson, the friend I wasn’t supposed to worry about.”

“Yeah..what about her?” You sounded confused, as if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.

“Are you fucking her?” Ellie asked impatiently.

You sighed again, “Are you high?”

“Answer me.”

“That’s none of your business.”

She rubbed her temples, you had always been so stubborn.

“I think it is my fucking business, I deserve to know.”

“Ellie, for Godsakes we broke up months ago, nothing I do should matter to you anymore. We’re over.”

“Oh yeah? Then why do you pick up every time I call?” She clicked her tongue.

“I…” You trailed off.

She had you there, despite the sour tone of your voice and angry puffs of air, you’d always always pick up whenever Ellie called.

“Does she fuck you better than me?” Ellie asked, taking another puff of the now small and burnt blunt.

“Ellie!” You gasped and she let out a raspy chuckle. “You can’t ask me something like that.”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a none of your fucking business.”

“Ouch, good one.” She giggled. The weed was unfortunately starting to mellow out her anger and the situation almost seemed amusing.

“Fuck you, I’m hanging up—“

“I miss you.” She blurted out, she’d only just gotten you to answer and she didn’t want you to hang up yet, besides, there was a reason for her calling…

You groaned slightly, “Ellie.”

“I’m serious.” She said, even though you could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah, right. You miss me or the sex?” You replied, crossing your arms.

“Can’t I miss both?” She smirked, snubbing out her blunt and laying back on her worn bed.

“No. You can’t.” You scoffed.

“Come on ★, don’t be like that. I know you miss me too.” She’d whispered the last part, as if it were devilish secret.

“Yeah! I miss the dirty socks around my apartment and smelly ass hoodies you left on my bed.” You mocked.

Ellie sighed, “Really? Here I was thinking you were gonna say you miss my hands on you.”

“Ellie..” You were catching onto what she was doing and you hated to admit that it was working. Your lower belly surged at her suggestive words and your mind started to wander.

“Or the way I kissed your thighs.” She whispered.

“Ellie I—“

“Or the way you felt when my fingers were shoved into your pussy.”

Yeah, you were fucked.

Your fingers had found their way past the band of your underwear and toward your aching clit.

Ellie heard your labored breathing through the receiver and immediately registered what you were doing.

“Something wrong, ★?” She teased.

“N-no.” You bit back a moan as you moved your fingers faster around the aching nub, the raspy sound of Ellie’s voice egging you on.

“Are you sure? Cause I’m hearing a lot of..shuffling.”

“Yeah it’s… just moving—around.” You said, through laboured breaths.

“Really? Because if I didn’t know any better…I’d have guessed you were fucking yourself.”

Heat creeped up your neck and face, surely you would die of embarrassment, either at the fact that Ellie knew what you were doing or that getting caught made you gush.

“N-no. Like I said, I was just moving.”

You sounded so tense, she almost burst out laughing. Did hearing her really turn you on that much? She decided to test that theory.

“Well, it’s almost 4..you must be pretty tired. I’ll just hang up a—“

“No! Fuck Ellie, keep talking please.” You begged.

That was more like it, no more snarky responses and aloof comments. She knew she could break you, she always did.

“Yeah? You want me to keep going?” The smugness in her voice pissed you off, yet made your thighs clench at the same time. By now her phone was resting on her pillow and her own hand was shoved past her boyshorts.

You nodded before verbalizing your thoughts, “Yes, please.”

“Then tell me,” Ellie said, her legs spread wide on her bed with her while her long fingers circled her slick clit. “Does she fuck better than me?”

You hesitated, knowing whatever you answered with would open a whole other can of worms that you didn’t particularly feel like dealing with.

Unfortunately, you didn’t answer fast enough for Ellie’s liking.

“Hmm. Okay, hanging up.”

“No!” You blurted, you could feel your climax approaching and as much as you hated to admit it, hearing Ellie’s voice, beginning to sound as fucked out as you were, along with the faint squelch of her playing with herself were the only things that would get you there.

A lazy smile tugged at her face, “No she doesn’t fuck better than me? Or no you don’t want me to hang—“

“No. She doesn’t fuck better than you.” You finally admitted.

While her ego swelled and another gush of wetness left her, Ellie wasn’t sure whether to be upset by the confirmation that you and Abby were indeed fucking or to be joyous that she was better in bed than her.

She decided on the latter when she heard a strained whine come from your end of the line.

“Fuck baby I wish I was there with you right now.” She sighed the callus of her finger rubbing against her clit deliciously.

“What would—shit—what would you do?”

Her brain still hazy from her high sputtered as she tried to think back to when the two of you were together, and what drove you absolutely crazy.

A smirk creeped its way onto her face as she rasped into the phone, “I’d start slow, kiss you the way I know you like while my hands play with your tits.”

Your free hand trailed up to your chest, rolling one of your nipples between your fingers. You scrunched your eyes closed, imagining it was Ellie’s warm, rough hand instead of your own.

“Then,” she continued. “I’d move lower, and suck on those perfect nipples of yours.”

A quiet moan escaped you, you could practically feel her wet tongue glide across your tits. You decided that your fingers weren’t doing enough and reached over to your bedside table to pull out your small blue vibrator.

Ellie heard the faint click and buzz and let out a quiet chuckle at the familiar sound before following suit.

You kept the setting low as you held it against your swollen bud, waiting for Ellie to continue.

She spoke through soft gasps, the incessant vibrations on her pussy making her buck agaisng the toy, she could feel her climax approaching and she was getting impatient.

“Then I’d kiss down your hips, leaving marks here and there so that bitch knows your mine. Then when I get to that slutty pussy of yours I’d take you in my mouth, rolling my tongue against your clit over and over. Until the only thing you could say was my name.”

You upped the setting, practically humping the toy at this point as the image of Ellie, bent in front of you, abusing your cunt with her tongue filtered through your head.

“Ohmygod. ‘m s-so close, Ellie.” You repeated her name like a mantra and the sound was music to her ears as she upped the vibrator to its highest setting, tears pricking at her eyes at the overwhelming pleasure as she circled her needy clit.

She was oh so close, but she needed to hear you say something first.

“Who’s—fuck me—pussy is that?” She all but gasped into the phone.

Your response was delayed from how lost you were in your own pleasure, “W-what?”

“Who’s pussy is that?” She repeated.

She was ridiculous! and if it weren’t for how desperately you wanted to come you would’ve told her so, but you were getting tired and if you didn’t come soon you were certain you would die.

“Yours! Fuck Ellie, it’s yours, always.” You cried.

As soon as those sweet words hit her ears her orgasm crashed into her, her cunt spasmed as she bucked up into the vibrator. Her high tripling the waves of pleasure that rocked over her and tears streamed down her cheeks while quiet moans and slurred curses rolled out of her.

She heard when you reached yours, quiet whimpers followed by loud curse filtered through her speakers and she could practically see what you looked like; your brows scrunched up and eyes half open while your jaw hung slack, your swollen lips slick with salvia and back arched as you twitched against the vibrator before slumping into your soft sheets.

For the next few minutes neither of you said anything, allowing each other to recover. After a while of hearing nothing but her quiet breaths, you were sure Ellie had fallen asleep, and made to grab your phone so that you could hang up.

Right before you could press the red end call button, she spoke up.

“I still love you.” Her voice was small, and the difference between it now and just 20 minutes ago almost made you laugh.

“Ellie…” You sighed, you were so certain of your break up with her. The two of you were on and off for months before you officially broke things off and you’d felt so relieved in the moment.

Abby had been there for you, she’d comforted you and supported you and was an almost perfect lover. But a tiny, twisted part of you still ached for Ellie’s touch.

“I’m with Abby now.” You whispered almost imperceptibly.

“I know,” She spoke softly. “But I know you still love me too.”

You went quiet, uncertainty quelled in your heart. Did you still love her? Or was the high from your orgasm still clouding your brain. You tried your best to remember the lowest points during your relationship with her but nothing came to mind.

Only her gentle hands, soft eyes, and warm kisses.

You scrunched your eyes shut, you couldn’t believe yourself. You were dating another woman, a woman who loved you dearly, and yet here you were, almost ready to admit your love for someone else, for your ex. Could you be any more pathetic?

“Ellie. I think you should stop cal—“

“Baby?”

Your thumb jammed against the end button so quickly your phone slipped out of your hand and fell on the floor with a loud clatter.

Abby peeked her head into the door, her long blonde braid loose from a long shift at the hospital and quick after work gym session. “You’re still up?”

“Uh—yeah, couldn’t sleep.” You lied.

She took in your form, a suggestive smile playing on her lips.

Your heart raced as she approached the bed and leaned down to kiss your cheek, your entire body tensed.

“Looks like somebody missed me.” She nodded at your discarded vibrator, practically mocking you from its place on your sheets.

You gave her a small smile, “I…we need to talk.”