#because it's too dangerous for her to stay

[dark-moonlust]

Fated Mates

Commission for Jana Pachner on Patreon!

Pairing: werewolf oc (Eli) x fem curvy reader

Summary: your werewolf roommate is secretly in love with you. He reaches his breaking point when he smells your arousal because of the books you read.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+, mutual pining, explicit smut, primal kink, possessive werewolf, oral(fem), bulk werewolf, knotting.

It was a challenge to live under the same roof and see you sitting in that recliner, knees curled up, nose buried in one of those monster smut books. Your breathing became irregular as you reached the spicy parts and subtle color crept up your neck, extending to your cheeks. You also squeezed your thighs together, having no idea that your werewolf roommate’s senses were sharper than any human's.

Mate, the wolf growled in him. Ours.

It was primitive and irrefutable as if the universe had imprinted you on his soul.

And this time, your scent was his undoing.

It all spoke to him, tempted him, and anchored him to you.

But he could not tell you. Not yet. You were a human. Delicate.

And if he claimed you were his mate—that you belonged to him, that his entire soul was aching for you—you’d flee. He’d run, too, if he were in your shoes. He was a werewolf, buff, tall, and scary to most. Primal, animalistic, too.

But tonight, you were testing his patience.

Sitting there looking like a snack, a tattered paperback in your hands with a cover that he couldn't look at without his mind wandering into a dangerous zone. A bare-chested werewolf and a heroine with curves that matched her own.

And your scent— Goddamn it, that scent.

Eli took a sharp inhalation, his claws sinking into the couch's armrest.

He knew he needed to leave. To run. To breathe.

Then you sighed. Soft. Breathless. Sweet.

That was his undoing.

You glanced at him amid your dirty reading.

Your roommate. Eli. Your infuriatingly gorgeous, towering werewolf (who was always shirtless by the way).

Eli had chosen to stay stubbornly with you while you read your smut. Your book was good—one of those stories in which the brooding, possessive werewolf would rather burn the world than see his human mate with someone else. It was good but no amount of fictional tension amd sex could match the real thing sitting across the room.

Eli had a steely smirk and a presence that made the air hum. He'd always been kind, lively, and easy to talk to, but there was something wild beneath the surface that you couldn't resist. It was the way his golden eyes lingered on you, or how he seemed to shift closer to you every chance he got, or how he tensed every time you were aroused.

Like right now.

You took a quick glimpse over the top of your book. And sure enough, there he was, sitting stiffly on the couch, his knuckles white from gripping the armrest. His jaw was locked, and his chest moved in tiny gasps and… and was that a bulge in his pants? You swallowed.

"Eli?" you asked quietly, lowering the book. He did not glance at you. Did not move.

But his harsh, low voice sent chills down your spine.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

A pause. Then a quick, dry laugh with no humor. "Fine. Why?"

You grimaced and closed the book completely. "You seem tense.”

His head snapped toward you, and his eyes locked on yours. The intensity in his gaze caused your breath to hitch. Heat pooled down in your stomach, your body betraying you.

“Fuck. I cannot handle it anymore,” he muttered. His discipline, which had already worn thin, was unraveling by the second.

"Eli?"

"Why do you read that stuff?" His voice came out rough.

You blinked. "What stuff?"

He pointed to the book. "That. Those books."

Your cheeks flushed. "I-I'm not sure. They are... entertaining."

"Entertaining," he said, standing up, all his bulky gorgeous body and you leaned back slightly, your wide eyes fixed on his.

"It's just fiction," you muttered. ”Sexy as hell, too.”

And then you saw it.

His breaking point.

"Is it? Or do you read them because you wish I was there to make you feel something?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You could feel the tension between you, tightening like a wire about to break.

Could you risk it? Tell him the truth? Of how much you craved him?

"Tell me," he repeated, his voice low and rough. "Do they make you think of me?"

You could not breathe. Your body was reacting to him as it always did, heat gathering between your legs as his gaze drove into you. He was too close, his presence surrounding you, the only thing that mattered. You couldn't lie. Not when every nerve in your body craved him.

"Yes."

His pupils dilated. "Yes?"

“Yes… the books. They make me think of you.”

His lips curled into a predatory grin and he pushed closer, too quickly, and placed his hands on your shoulders before you could blink. You gasped as his touch shot a shock through your veins, the heat between you overwhelming.

“Reading thinking about me, hm? Every damn page."

You couldn't react because your heart was pounding so hard in your ears, that you felt you were going to drown.

But then his lips were on yours, wet, warm and demanding, as if he couldn't hold back anymore. Your hands trembled as they moved up his naked chest, stroking the muscles. You drew back for a moment, not believing this was real. But once you met his eyes; wide with need, and something deeper you knew.

He wanted you.

Eli kissed you again and this time, he fucking devoured you. You moaned, and damn, it almost drove him crazy. The monster in him snarled, enraged and hungry, urging him to take, claim, and brand you. You were his mate, his other half.

He deepened the kiss, moving his hands down your arms and felt your curves beneath his touch. You also tasted like temptation—sweet and innocent— your lips parting beneath his, your tongue hesitant at first, but then melting into him. Your scent; lavender and that enticing natural scent of your skin enveloped him, and he couldn't get enough of it.

His hands moved lower, pressing into the curve of your hips, pulling you close to him. You gasped into his mouth, and he groaned at the sensation of your soft, full body pressed against the hard lines of his.

"You don't know what you're doing to me," he said, his voice raw.

You moaned, your hands slipping to the waistline of his pants, fingertips teasing the fabric.

Challenging him, playing with fire.

Why not? You were already lost.

"Maybe I do," you said softly, lips brushing against his jaw.

A feral growl left him as he carried you in his strong arms and plopped you down on the bed. You couldn't help but look up at him—at your sexy werewolf. He looked back—possessive, ravenous as if he could swallow you in an instant. He would.

"Do you really want this, sweetheart?"  he asked.

"Yes. I want this… want you."

Everything happened in a flash. His hands moved, and you arched into his touch as he ripped your clothes. He pulled off his pants and boxers, removing all your clothes until were both naked, his clawed fingers caressing your plump tits, over one tight nipple, then the curvature of your waist, and down to the soft swell of your thighs.

“Fuuuck, look at you. Perfect," he drawled. "Every inch of you."

“I second that.”

His muscles flexed as he hovered above you, a great beast, the gorgeous heat of his body radiating on yours.

The contrast between you was uncanny. You were all soft, mushy thighs and belly, and he was everything you had envisioned in your fantasies and more. So much more.

And he was magnificent. All raw power and bulk, every inch of him designed for strength. His arms, chest, abs—and Gods, his dick. It was even better than the slutty monster books you read. Generously thick and long, with a sharp tip leaking pre-cum and a fat knot at the base.

Your thoughts faded when his lips followed a line down your neck, and you arched into him, allowing him to feel the fullness of your tits pressing against his firm hairy chest. You wanted him on your nipples. He took the bait and dragged his tongue around one nipple, his hand fondling the other mound.

Bliss coursed through you. He slurped up your breasts and meanwhile, your hands moved down his torso, feeling the way his muscles contracted under your touch, the roughness of his skin, and the heat that radiated off him. When you gripped his cock, his snarl made your entire body shiver.

“Ahhh, sweetheart. You're driving me crazy," he said, his voice thick with need.

“Good. I want to drive you nuts.”

He chuckled. “My turn first, love.”

A swift move and he was between your legs, his hands seizing your hips, his tongue pushing at your folds and eating your cunt. You jerked and whined, feeling his tongue as it made torturous circles over your clit, sending thrills up your spine and driving you higher and higher until you snapped.

Eyes shutting, belly trembling as cries of pleasure left you. Unbidden.

"You don't even know what you've done to me, do you?" His tongue brushed against your oversensitive clit, his fangs glinting.

"What have I done?" you gasped, voice quivering.

"You have been ruining me for months. Every time you curled up on the couch with those filthy books."

His cock pressed against your sloppy slit, making it even sloppier by spreading his pre-cum over your folds.

“Please…” you whimpered but he held you tightly, anchoring you beneath him.

"You've been tormenting me without even knowing it."

You swallowed hard, heat rising in your cheeks. "You could've said something… I wanted you for so long but I was scared," you said quietly. "I didn't know if you wanted me."

"You think I didn’t want you?" His voice was low and sinister. “I need you, love. Every inch of you. This body. This softness. This skin. This heat. All mine.”

“Yours.”

He growled, slapping his girthy cock over your entrance. "Say that again."

“Yours. I’m all yours, Eli.”

A groan echoed deep in his chest before he pushed inside. Stretching you, slowly feeding your pussy all inches of his dick. He invaded your depths as if his dick had always belonged there, the tip kissing your womb. So deep! So full! So damn good!

“You're taking me so well, sweetheart," he said, his hands caressing your tits. "Every inch."

The werewolf in him roared, set free to brand you, to claim you in every way. He held your hips, letting his claws press just enough to leave faint marks as a reminder that you belonged to him and fucked you, your bodies clashing and colliding. Your pretty cunt swallowed him up, messy and gorgeous while your body quivered beneath him, your curves beautiful and lush.

"You're going to feel me everywhere," he growled, reaching down to kiss your lips fiercely. “This is going to be nothing like those books you read. This is the real deal, love. From now on, your heart and cunt are mine. Mine to fuck, love and protect. You hear me?’

You only nodded – frantically— before you climaxed, again, your blunt nails sinking into his shoulders. But he wasn't finished. His knot was swelling, you’d read so many books about knotting. But God, this was the real deal indeed and it was freaking marvelous!

Your body tightened around him as he pushed deep and his knot enlarged, fully, locking you together. So stretched. Cum flooded you. So much it filled you to the brim. You trembled beneath him as he leaned down and swirled his tongue against your ear.

“Knotted like a good girl.” He hugged you harder, his snout brushing against your temple. “Keep my cock warm, love, okay?”

You smiled. “Hmm, I’m gonna keep it nice and warm, Eli. Where it belongs.”

"You are damned wonderful, mate. This was exactly what I'd been craving. You’re mine.”

"Always yours," you said, your voice full of need and trust.

THE END!

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[heyysteven]

Playing Dangerous

Pairings: Hwang In Ho x Wife!reader

Summary: Mr. Hwang does not like it when his wife ignores him. He decides to show what happens when you upset him.

Warnings: Smut (18+) mdni, Yandere behavior, In ho is obsessive and controlling, dub con, public sex, breast play, mentions of captivity and stalking, a bunch of rich assholes.

Take the driver with you.

Did you reach yet?

I'm waiting for your answer.

Swirling the glistening champagne in your claw you leaned into the conversation, feigning interest into whatever story was being told. Mr. Richie, the President of a luxury brand of perfumes was bragging about his most recent visit to Luxembourg; how he surprised his wife by renting one of the castles for the week and how much money he burned through to make her happy.

He stood surrounded by some of the most powerful and elite people in the country as he drawled on and on about his stay. Bit overkill with how much money he spent for your taste but you were used to it by now.

From rare antiques to color vomits on canvases, these were awfully boring people who always talked about the same few conceited experiences. But you indulged in their conversations. You had to appease to them after all.

You had to play the perfect wife.

Nodding your head you smiled, as if you hadn’t zoned his story out completely. It was easier attending events alone. No one paid much attention to you without the loaded man beside you. You prayed that no one asked about why your husband was missing because frankly you didn’t have an answer.

As if sensing your thoughts Mrs. Richie asked, “Will Mr. Hwang not be joining us tonight?” interrupting her husband’s museum story.

“Oh yeah, I’m afraid he won’t be able to make it. He has so busy these days with meetings and that big launch coming up.” You replied.

They raised their heads oh in understanding. In truth, there was no launch. You just lied so they wouldn’t pry too much.

Mrs. Richie clutched her pearls, “That makes me so upset! He has such a strong aura around him, always brightens up the room with his presence.” She talked as if his absence was her personal loss. As if another moment without him would cause her to wither in physical pain.

In hindsight it should have really bothered you. Hearing another woman yearn for your husband should have had you pulling her hair and throwing her to the ground. But your relationship with Mr. Hwang wasn’t like that. It was all only for show; a signed inconvenient obligation. You two didn’t even looked at each other unless there was someone watching.

 “Yes, it is quite upsetting.” You said with the most heartbroken smile you could muster. ”But sometimes you have to sacrifice time-”

As you spoke a shiver ran down your spine. Your heart started beating faster as a knot formed in your stomach. It was as if your body was warning you.

You could feel his presence even before you could see him.

Every single person in the room had turned their heads towards the entrance. His black polished shoes clicked as silence fell around.

Mr. Hwang was the kind of man who commanded unwavering attention. It was impossible to ignore him. Not when he walked with a sense of ownership. As if every living and breathing thing belonged to him.

He was the kind of man who could will mountains to move on their own; the kind of man who could make a ballroom like this feel like a cramped elevator. Dressed in his signature black look he walked in with a sense of control. Every stride oozed power.

Alarm bells started ringing in your head as he walked towards you.

“Oh look he is here!” Mrs. Richie exclaimed. She looked seconds away from rolling her tongue out for him to walk on.

Color threatened to drain from your face as he slipped his long cold fingers around your waist and placed himself beside you. His touches always made you nervous, no matter the months you’ve spent with him. The haunting scent of his strong cologne filled your senses as his towering body pressed into your side like this was the most natural thing in the world.

You dragged out a surprised smile as he bent down to place a lingering kiss your cheek.

“You’re here.” You said finally, a ghost of a whisper.

He tilted his head to look into your eyes and smiled back at you. “When your wife doesn’t respond to your texts, you just have to come find her, am I right folks?” He turned to the group as they all threw their heads back in roaring laughter. It was kind of pathetic how much they seemed to want his approval.

Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake. You acted to feel around for your phone and said, “Really? I don’t remember checking my phone. I must have missed them.”

He just continued to stare down at you with a frown, “You know how worried I get. Should have just gotten you the phone with an inbuilt tracker” he said with a chuckle and people laughed again. But you both knew he wasn’t kidding. Anything this man couldn’t control drove him crazy.

You playfully patted his cheek and laughed. “He is so silly sometimes.”

He simply pulled you closer and squeezed you in his embrace, “I just want my wife to be protected that is all”. People took that as a hint to slowly start dispersing. When the last person left you tried to move away from him but he held still. “Don’t. They’re still watching.”

“Why are you here?” You asked with an accusatory tone.

He didn’t bother answering that. Instead he asked, “Why did you ignore my messages?”

So that’s why he came. The minute you refused to play along like his little doll he had to show up.

Fidgeting with the strap of your watch you replied, “I was preoccupied.”

“Were you avoiding me Mrs. Hwang?” His voice dangerously calm as he drawled on the possibility. He knew how much you hated it when he called you that. It felt derogatory. It was a reminder that you were just another one of his little slaves who had given into his power.

When you stayed silent, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time, I will hunt you down and drag you out by your hair if I have to.”

“Just be very careful with your actions love.” he kissed your shoulder and left towards to bar.

To everybody else he was the perfect husband; the one who showered you with jewels and admiration. Who blindly bought you everything you touched. Your brain itched every time they would congratulate you and tell you how much you lucked out.

How you wished it was true.

The tap water trickled as you stood counting the droplets one by one. You had excused yourself to the restroom, thinking a few silent moments would help you find the energy to go back and attend the event with your husband. But the more time you spent here, the more this little bathroom started to feel like your refuge.

Just five more minutes and then we go, you thought for the 8th time.

The door slowly swung open.

“Occupied!” you called out. But the intruder continued in. You turned around to tell off whoever entered but stopped when you saw those black polished shoe.

Your heart started hammering as his shadow came into full view. He invited himself inside and locked the door in one quick click.

With each step he took forward, you took one back; moving back till you felt the cold ceramic sink hit your back. The look in his eyes was animalistic. You felt caught. Like one wrong move and you’d be engulfed in a huge trapping net.

“So you are ignoring me I see.” Mr. Hwang concluded.

“I just feel a little tired from all this.”

He scoffed, “Do you find pleasure in defying me?”

You looked around at everything but his face. You were afraid of what you might find if you looked at him right now. Placing his palms behind you, he gripped the sink, locking you in front of him. His breath fanned your face as he said, “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“I am an honorable man. I have been as patient as I can be but you just make it so difficult” he rasped.

“Do you remember what you said before you signed our papers?”

His jaw clenched as he ordered, “Answer me.”

“I said I would do anything if you saved my brother.” Your body had started shaking.

His eyes sparkled as he grinned deviously; finally getting the answer he was desperately waiting for. “Anything? Are you sure? A lot can happen with anything.”

He dropped his head into your neck and traced a slow line with his tongue, painting your bare skin with his saliva till he reached the top of your neckline. You clenched your eyes shut, your hands closed in a tight fist as his mouth roamed your chest.

“The question is how far are you willing to be pushed my love?” He sucked on your sweet spots as you turned into an unstable block of mass in his arms. He knew you wouldn’t fight him.

He had pulled that one string to puppet you, that one weakness you would lose to every single time. He had you right where he wanted you. Digging his fingers into your hair, he pulled your mouth near his and started devouring you with his soft mouth.

“I hate this dress." He said between kisses. "I hate that everyone saw you looking this fuckable.” His hand glided up your thigh, slowly massaging the smooth skin up and down with his palm.

His teeth hooked around the strap of your dress and pulled them down. When the sleeves fell down, his mouth attacked your already sensitive nipples. He sloppily circled around them through the fabric of your bra. Your hand tugged his hair as he continued to suck. It became impossible to stop the moans escaping you.

 “You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back. I have been nothing but a respectable man to you. But I’m beginning to think that perhaps you do not like it.” His words scared you. He seemed to have taken this as some sort of challenge. The look of terror between your eyes made him rock hard. He forced your legs open with his knee. You could feel his cotton trouser pressing into you through your underwear.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve my restraints anymore.”

Your head fell back as his knees started rocking. He almost came right there when he felt your juices starting to drench his pants.

 “You have no idea how far I’m willing to go. Trackers? Trackers are nothing. I will tie you and gag you till no one can hear your screams. You will be at my complete mercy and no one will come save you.” He moaned as tears started falling uncontrollably from your eyes. He continued rocking till you were a complete sobbing mess.

You should’ve known better than to displeasure him.

He pulled back right before anything progressed further. Straightening his coat he kissed the side of your head. “See you at home Mrs. Hwang.” And with those six words he left, leaving you half naked and dazed. In that moment you realized you had started a very dangerous game in just one evening and you weren’t sure if you could handle playing against Mr. Hwang.

A/N: I wanna play his wife so bad

[cybershock24601]

Some more telanovela Rookanis ideas but now I'm thinking about Caterina who's made her peace with Rook staying in Lucanis life but still wants him to have a proper wife especially since its not like Lucanis or Rook have made any sort indication that they plan to get married anytime soon so it shouldn't be much of an issue to arrange a marriage for Lucanis while Rook stays as his mistress.

It's not like Caterina hasn't tried to arrange something for Lucanis before because she's been wanting great grandbabies to carry on the Dellamorte name for years but Lucanis simply never seemed interested. Now that Lucanis is with someone Caterina thinks there may be a chance for her to get him engaged to someone suitable for his station.

So Caterina starts reaching out to allied Houses and even some merchant princes to arrange something. Suddenly Villa Dellamorte is getting visits from different well bred girls to try their luck in catching the eye of the First Talon. It doesn't work at all. Lucanis politely refuses all their advances without even properly acknowledging their suits and even takes to making grand and public gestures of affection towards Rook in hopes of deterring them and assuring Rook that his heart still lies with her.

Rook knows Lucanis loves her and only her, has no worries about their relationship, and knows this all has to be Caterina's doing. Still, Rook is actually pretty jealous and possessive and absoutley seething about this disrecpt to her, Lucanis, and their relationship. Rook manages to keep her cool about the sitation and let Lucanis handle the situation however he sees fit but snaps when one of Lucanis' suitors says some dumb shit about not minding Rook staying around as the mistress.

There's this banter between Neve and Emmrich about a charm seller in Tevinter that is scamming people with fake magical charms. Emmrich is appalled by the danger it represents to the public and suddenly the guy is seeing and hearing things and essentially just being haunted to hell and back. Well, pretty much anyone that comes around attempting to woo Lucanis goes home suffering many of the same symptoms. Seeing things out of the corner of their eye, voices whispering and laughing about their worst secrets and insecurities, their nights filled with unending nightmares.

Anyone tries to ask Rook about the sudden uptick in hauntings and Rook plays dumb. Comes up with some vapid excuse full of jargon that any actual necromancer would spot immediately and acts so concerned about the issue but she doesn’t crack and it’s a little scary just how well Rook is able to lie to everyone’s faces because if it weren’t incredibly obvious that Rook had to be the one behind the hauntings, they’d probably believe her. Teia resolves to never get on Rook’s bad side and Viago is pondering how best to create a hallucinogenic to simulate the effects because the way Rook has crippled whole Houses with fear is inspiring. Illario is suddenly doing a whole lot to try to to get into Rook’s good books and Rook is so off put by his behavior that’s she tells him to please stop and go back to being the bitch he is, she honestly likes him better that way.

Lucanis skirts around the issue with Rook and continues to try to assure her that he loves her and only her to which Rook responds that she knows and loves him too but that doesn’t mean she’s willing to sit idly by while people disrespect the depths of their love for each other which is about as close as to a confession Rook gives. Spite asks Rook about it too on a late night after Lucanis has gone to bed and Rook’s response to him is basically “yeah” and Spite lets out the most gleeful cackle Rook’s ever heard because he is delighted by her spiteful vengeance.

The hauntings start to taper off once Lucanis’ suitors stop coming around and the girl that started all this even came to Rook to beg her to make it all stop. Rook, still pretty pissed about her comments, continued to play dumb and essentially gaslit her the whole conversation but did stop the haunting a few days later because she’s not a monster and did feel a little bad the whole situation.

In the end Caterina’s scheme backfired horribly on her as it damaged her relationship with many of the houses she reached out for and strengthened Rook’s own position in the Crows because before she was generally seen as charming, affable, a little creepy due to the whole necromancer thing, and a bit foolish due to Rook’s willingness to make herself the butt of a joke but no one really took her seriously due to mismatch of her personality and reputation as a god killer so most of the Houses assumed her feats were exaggerated, now everyone is kinda terrified of Rook and what she can do. Whereas before people might have yielded to the former First Talon when she called in a favor, now they have to consider whether it would be worth it to cross scary necromancer Rook to do so. Rook basically ends up with a reputation amongst the Crows intimidating enough to match with the Demon of Vyrantium.

During and after this Rook probably gets a few letters from the Necropolis mostly from Emmrich, Myrna, and Vorgoth as they definitely heard about the uptick in hauntings in Antiva and every single one of those letter essentially amounted to asking Rook “really?” to which Rook replied “yes and I feel perfectly justified in doing so” but in more words and without ever outright admitting to her actions.

It’s also after all this that Lucanis officially asks Rook to marry him, something they had been holding off on because they wanted to spend some time finding their footing in their relationship before jumping into the craziness of planning a wedding. Lucanis doesn’t want anyone thinking he isn’t serious about Rook after everything that just happened and Rook gets her chance for revenge against Caterina because now she’s going to have to contend with Vorgoth in the wedding planning process. Vorgoth has been putting together a binder of all their wedding ideas for Rook for years and is very excited to finally be able to execute them.

[revelboo]

Are your shoulders tired from carrying the entire Transformers fandom right now, Rev?

Your fics are also inspiring a bunch of people?!? Nice. Love your fics, dying from the angst, but now I'm writing fluff fics while waiting for you to post hahaaha *dies*

I just started writing TF fics because I couldn’t find what I wanted to read 😆 but I’m loving that more people are starting to write stuff, too! I’ve been trying to pester a writer friend (one of the ones that convinced me to start writing TF smut originally to create a Tumblr and share her stuff, too)

Everything Is Alright Pt 107

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Your palm resting against his own, fingers lined up with his servos drives home how much smaller you are even when he’s mass displaced. How fragile. And yet you can still entrust yourself to him as he curls his other arm around you and tries to explain what he knows of how Cybertronians are sparked. How that spark can become transferred into a waiting protoform. But a hybrid spark? He has no idea if it will still work the same way. You’re so small, will the spark stay your size? Smaller than a true Cybertronian? As defenseless as you are? It’s a struggle to keep his tone calm, to pretend he’s not as scared as you are. As unsure.

• Laying your head against him as he talks, some of your tension eases at the confidence in his rasping voice. Because you really need to believe that one of you has a clue what you’re doing. And there’s still Megatron, who even though he knows you’re no pet, seems determined to force you to keep up the act and play one for his amusement. He’s dangerous. Know that, but speaking to him? You think he’s also lonely and more than a little tired. Hating that he can startle a laugh from you when he wants to, that those big hands are so gentle. That you like those rare smiles and- you like him. Stiffening in Star’s arms, you press your face against his neck, because you can’t possibly like Megatron, public enemy number one and the biggest threat to your life. “What’s wrong?” Starscream asks. What is wrong with you? You have Star and Soundwave. You’re happy with them. You can’t like Megatron, too.

• Wings flaring slightly when you don’t answer him, he takes your shoulders in his hands and pulls you back, not liking when you avoid his optics, face heating. And then hiding your face in your hands as he vents. Another weird human thing? Or something you just don’t want to talk about? Optics narrowing, he rests his helm against your forehead and waits. “It’s nothing. Really,” you murmur, head tipping to brush your mouth against his, trying to kiss away his frown. Wants to trust that, but knows you. Knows you rarely complain or ask for anything. And right now that bothers him. How can he take care of you when you won’t tell him you need something? Resting a palm against your throat before sliding it down to rest over the steady beat of your heart, his optics shutter. Grounding himself in the feel of you. Of home and hope. Won’t push, because he knows he’s terrible at this, too. But he wants to get better. To be better. For you to trust him.

• Megatron can feel Soundwave’s optics on him through the visor. Can also feel the tension in his old friend and he vents softly. “I’m not going to hurt your little human, but you’ll still bring them to me.” But what Soundwave is hinting at, proposing in veiled, cautious words? That he make his own claim upon you just to force Starscream into stopping his attempts to ursurp him is clever, because it’s tempting. And his second in command will despise it. But he knows Soundwave, knows how protective he is of his cassettes and can imagine that protective instinct extends to you as well. If you’re tied to all three of them? Shared between them? You’d be guaranteed safety. “I’ll consider it,” he adds on a growl, annoyed with himself. But when he remembers those angry eyes, the way you’d defended Starscream, arguing with him? You’d challenge him while being no real threat, a little, affectionate mate to sit at his peds while he’s on his throne. Respected and safe because you belong to him. And he remembers the way you’d looked under Soundwave. The sounds you’d made.

• Inclining his head respectfully, some of Soundwave’s tension eases. Betting on Megatron’s own loneliness. That he’ll keep demanding you be brought to him, speak with you and come to know you. Doesn’t really hope that Megatron will love you, only arranging a mating for convenience. To keep you safe whether you want it or not. Telling himself that this is necessary as Megatron strides away, but there’s a shadow of doubt in his spark. Afraid that you’ll hate him for this, won’t understand that he’s doing this all for you. For a future he’s desperate to have.

Previous

[hencheri]

18+ mdni.

pairing: stalker!wayv x fem!reader

warnings: mention of stalking, harassment, toxic ex relationship, manipulation, noncon.

for @vanesycho <3

.

kun kun is so meticulous about it... so secretive. he plays the perfect friend. he's soft, caring, reassuring... and handsome. kun is the one who you go to for advice, the one you know will have the right answer to everything. you can trust him, and you do, oh so deeply. it's so easy to fall for him, so easy to believe in his sweet words.

you will never know that his real feelings are perverted and sick, though. you could never suspect it. you could never think that his camera roll is full of pictures of you, that he knows your schedule by heart and that he keeps track of all of your escapades.

but kun only does this to protect you, he convinces himself. he isn't intruding your privacy, no, he's just making sure that nothing happens to you. he wants you safe, safe from bad and cruel men. the pictures are simply because he can't get enough of your beauty, it's a compliment, really, that he keeps them.

xiaojun he isn't a stalker! but when he finds his person, finds the woman who's the perfect fit for him, the one worthy of his attention, he can't get rid of her— and in this case, you. it could go in two different ways: xiaojun begs you to come back to him, tells you that breaking up with him is nonsense, that you need him and won't find a better boyfriend than him. or he insults you, says the meanest things to you and accuses you of having cheated on him. honestly, both could be happening at the same time.

he sends you countless messages, literally blows up your voicemail. you have to tell him where you are. it doesn't matter if you aren't together anymore, you should've stayed a couple anyway. xiaojun is just such a jealous ex, and a jealous boyfriend in general, he won't believe you're not with other men until you prove it to him.

he's not secretive at all. he's very adamant on letting you know that he wants you, he's really straightforward and he isn't afraid to admit his stalker-ish behaviour (he doesn't see it this way anyway). if he happens to follow you somewhere, he'll come up to you. if he wants a picture of you, he'll take it right in front of you, he doesn't care that you're against it. and if he wants to fuck you, he will.

ten he's a little pervert, in my opinion. he's super touchy as your friend. you got used to it, seeing he's like that with most of his friends, you don't put any meaning to it. but in reality, he has ulterior motives. and it'd be obvious if you weren't too naive.

you've even given a spare key to your apartment to ten, but of course he uses it to his advantage. he comes when he knows you're not there, snoop through your things, steals a pair of panties or two.

he sends you anonymous letters, telling you everything he'd do to you in it. you tell ten about it, about your stalker and all the gross things he says in his letters, pretending like he isn't the author of them. he even dares to act disgusted of the words used in them, says your stalker is crazy and dangerous, you should let ten stay overnight so you feel safer in your home. honestly, he finds it quite fun to play the protective friend, watching the distress on your face, unaware that your stalker is actually your closest friend.

yangyang i could see him doing the same thing as ten because he looooves seeing you scared and being the one to reassure you. not only does it boost his ego to be your saviour, he also can take advantage of it.

he slowly and slowly makes you dependant of him, making you believe that nowhere is safe— except beside him, of course. yangyang is smart, he can fool you without any problem. but i think eventually he's going to be too blinded by his pride and let something slip. the moment you discover the truth about him, you're obviously terrified, you don't want to be near yangyang ever again.

but yangyang won't let that happen...

winwin baby could never be a stalker, he's got a gentle soul and the sweetest heart. he would never ever be the cause of your torment— well...

winwin looks at your instagram at least 5 times a day. it's nothing bad, just a little crush he has on you. sure, maybe he does fantasize about you, like, all the time, and maybe he's a little jealous of your other male friends, but he's not harming you. he would never.

until his crush gets out of hands. winwin, such a panties stealer, let me tell you. he steals everything, down to your hair ties and bras. if he sees you chatting with any men, he'll get so mad he'll purposefully start an argument with you, going as far as calling you names— something you thought you would've never heard from him. he also tracks your phone because he can't bear the idea of having you seeing other men.

hendery i don't see him as the type to be a stalker either, even though i can believe he could become obsessive very fast. he wouldn't see the purpose into creating a false "perfect" image of himself, or have the patience to follow you, do things without your knowledge.

but hendery is very clingy. he does creepy stuff like waiting outside your apartment (yes, he'd have the patience for that lol only because he knows you're there or leaving soon), saying he's there, that you have to go open the door to him. you get freaked out by his behaviour and ask him to stop, but he doesn't understand why he would. the more you push him away, the clingier he gets.

i once described him as a sicko in love and yeah... he totally is. but he needs you to love him back! it could have happened when you first became friends because hendery is so handsome, he's funny and really attentive, but unfortunately, he got a little too enamoured of you... it's okay though, you'll eventually realize that you're as in love with him as he is with you.

[genderqueerdykes]

(tw: vent, relationship abuse, transphobia)

from 2020-2023, i was in a toxic relationship with a terf. she identified as a (still truscum-y) trans guy when we first got together, but about halfway through she detransitioned and pressured me to detransition as well. i identified as nonbinary at the time and i was scared of not listening to her, so i detransitioned because i thought i was being misogynistic if i didn’t. things just got worse, her transphobia got more radical, and we grew further apart, especially when i started questioning my identity again.

it’s been over a year since we broke up. i’ve started my transition as a trans man, i have her blocked on everything, but i still keep thinking about all the ways she hurt me. it feels like she’s winning. most sources i find on toxic relationships are really heteronormative and rely heavily on gender binaries, so they’ve been no help. do you have any advice on queer toxic relationships and/or unlearning internalized transphobia? thanks so much, no pressure to answer this if you don’t have the spoons

that's terrible, i'm so sorry you went through that. that's a long time to have to deal with someone pressuring you to change how you refer to yourself and how you see yourself. it's okay if someone needs to detransition but they should never force anyone else to just because transitioning like that was wrong for them. i'm so sorry she acted like she knew what was best for you. it's painful to watch someone fall down that rabbit hole and never come back. you want them to be kinder and to love themselves and everyone else, but it's just not the case

whenever people try to tell me that i "don't understand rad feminism", i point to experiences like yours. rad fems tell people that it's literally somehow "misogynistic" for trans men and mascs to transition. they tell people that that trans men and mascs are a danger to women. they tell people that trans men and mascs are confused and don't know any better. they tell trans men and mascs how to think, and they're doing it to everyone else, too. there's never a good reason to call someone misogynistic for transitioning

i would say maybe try to touch base with communities for transmasculine people and trans men. even if you meet a few people you like in the tags here, it's worth it. remind yourself that you weren't wrong, that person just thought she knew what was right for you. she saw something she hated in herself. it has nothing to do with how you should feel about yourself. you'll run into bumps and snags with how you feel about gender, especially your own. it's not a bad sign, it just takes time to get over the shitty things you were taught.

you can't dismantle it all at once, to take time, pace yourself. you were literally being groomed to hate yourself and other people. you need a moment before you can become proud of who you are. someone whittled you down until you were nearly nothing. that's not easy to move on from in a quick fashion. manhood is not evil. manhood is not what's hurting people. men are diverse. men are not a monolith. making blanket statements about men is profiling

i hope that helps some what, good luck, stay safe. i appreciate you for reaching out. it's not easy to deal with or move on from these kinds of things, but be as kind to yourself as you can. there's nothing wrong with transmanhood

[salt-clangen]

Moon 12 pt 3

Leaf bare

This is the final part for this moon.

Lynxdawn returned at dusk, her fur dull from days of travel. She padded into the camp with slow, deliberate steps, her eyes sharp and unreadable.

Snowspeckle, perched near the cooking pit with Mallowstripe, straightened, her gaze flicking between Lynxdawn and Wolfstar. Ripplekit and Otterkit peeked out from behind her, their wide eyes brimming with curiosity.

Wolfstar stood near her den, Shadowdive at her side, his expression tense. At the sight of Lynxdawn, she stepped forward, her voice low and uncertain. “Lynxdawn.”

Lynxdawn didn’t respond. Instead, she addressed Snowspeckle. “Gather everyone,” she said quietly. “There’s something you all need to hear.”

Once the clan had gathered, Lynxdawn stepped forward. Wolfstar hesitated before moving to stand beside her, their fur brushing briefly. Despite the proximity, the air between them felt fragile, as if one wrong word might break it.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Lynxdawn began, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. “But you all deserve the truth. While I was away, I went to the moon spring, there I was able to speak with Darkfold. She helped me uncover things I didn’t know—things about myself, about Wolfstar, and about our past.” Her eyes narrowed. “And about Jaggedstar.”

Murmurs rippled through the clan.

At Lynxdawn’s sharp gaze, Wolfstar swallowed hard, her voice soft but firm. “Jaggedstar, my mother, once plotted to kill Lynxdawn when she was just a kit.”

The murmurs grew louder.

“She believed Lynxdawn was dangerous,” Wolfstar continued. “StarClan gave her a prophecy—a warning about a kit who would shape the fate of the clan, she believed it meant Duskclan but we now know it was really about Saltclan.”

Lynxdawn’s voice cut in, cold and sharp. “But there was another prophecy, one Jaggedstar was blinded by. It spoke of Wolfstar, a leader destined to protect her clan only if she could overcome the darkness within her.”

Wolfstar flinched at the words but didn’t argue. “Jaggedstar was blinded by fear. She nearly let it destroy her—and me. I left DuskClan because I couldn’t stay under her shadow. I thought I was protecting Lynxdawn by keeping this from her, but I see now that I only made things worse. And I’m truly sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Snowspeckle asked, her voice trembling. “We could have helped you carry this.”

“Because I was afraid of what you’d think of me.” Wolfstar closed her eyes briefly, a pained expression crossing her face.

“Afraid of what’s in your blood,” Lynxdawn said bitterly, Shadowdive’s lip lifted at that.

Wolfstar’s breath caught. “It’s more than that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been having… dreams. They’re not just dreams—they’re too real.” Her tail lashed. “I’m locked in a dark, cold place, with strange smells and cries all around me. Then I see a pair of eyes—one red, one green—and the noise grows louder, unbearable, until I wake up.”

The clan shifted uncomfortably, the unease in their eyes mirroring Wolfstar’s own fear.

Mallowstripe stepped forward, his voice cautious but firm. “Wolfstar, I’ve been having dreams too. Strange ones. They’re scattered—fragmented—but there’s always a name.” He hesitated, glancing around nervously before meeting Wolfstar’s gaze. “Lostclaw.”

Shadowdive’s fur bristled. “Lostclaw? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Mallowstripe admitted, his tone low and uneasy. “The name came to me in a dream, but it’s always the same—hushed whispers, a shadow watching from the edge of darkness.” His tail twitched nervously. “And there’s something… cold, something unnatural.”

Wolfstar’s claws flexed against the ground. “You think this… Lostclaw is connected to the dreams? To me? To Jaggedstar?”

Mallowstripe nodded slowly. “I don’t know for certain, but I don’t think it’s just in your head, Wolfstar. There’s something more at play—something beyond StarClan.” His voice dropped. “If this name is tied to Jaggedstar’s actions, and now your dreams, we need to find out what it means.”

Lynxdawn’s eyes narrowed, her tail flicking behind her. “Then we investigate. Darkfold might know something—or at least point us in the right direction.”

Wolfstar felt her breath steady, she nodded to her. “Ok, tomorrow we’ll discuss our next steps, for now I want everyone to rest.”

Slowly, the clan dispersed, Snowspeckle herded her kits back to the nursery, gently answering their questions. Shadowdive nodded to her before going to wait by her den. Mallowstripe’s gaze lingered on Wolfstar the longest before he returned to tend to the fire.

Lynxdawn lingered by the camp entrance. Wolfstar approached cautiously, her steps hesitant.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” Wolfstar said, her voice quiet. “But I want to earn it.”

Lynxdawn’s tail flicked as she glanced at her leader. “It’ll take time.”

Wolfstar dipped her head. “I have time.”

The two shared a moment of silence, the weight between them still palpable, but a flicker of understanding beginning to form. Lynxdawn sighed, her breath misting in the cold air. “I’ll see you at dawn.”

Wolfstar’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “At dawn then.”

As Lynxdawn turned away, the camp seemed a little less tense, the chill of late winter softened by the tentative spark of reconciliation. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Second Chance | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: It’s been two years since you and Sebastian considered each other friends, but that’s all about to change when he finds you in the back of the library.

Words: ~6,000

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, One-Shot

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, the faint bassline of a song pulsing through his earbuds as he stared at the pages of his textbook. The words blurred together, his focus slipping away. He rubbed his eyes, pushing his hair back in frustration. Normally, he thrived on the chaos of multitasking—music blasting, three assignments spread out in front of him, and the ever-present buzz of his phone vibrating with group chat notifications. But tonight, none of it held his attention.

Instead, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

To you.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared blankly at the spell diagram on the page. It had been a long time since you and he had been on speaking terms, but that didn’t stop you from haunting him. It was ridiculous, really. You weren’t even in his life anymore. You’d made that perfectly clear after fifth year.

Back then, you’d been inseparable, two halves of a chaotic whole. You were his clever, competitive, and sharp-witted partner in crime, the one person that matched his energy, who pushed back when he pushed too far. At least, you had… until the end. Until he’d crossed too many lines, gone too far chasing answers he thought he needed.

When you walked away, it was like the ground had shifted beneath his feet. He hadn’t realized how much of his world revolved around you until you weren’t in it anymore. And then you’d gone and changed.

The girl who once stayed up debating spell combinations with him and snuck into Crossed Wands had turned into the model student overnight. Top of the class. Prefect material. Polished and poised in ways that made you almost unrecognizable. You’d dropped out of Crossed Wands entirely, called it “unsanctioned” like you hadn’t been one of its fiercest competitors. And worst of all, you avoided him like he was contagious.

Not that he blamed you. He’d been reckless, selfish, dangerous. And you’d always been careful. You’d never taken him up on his offers to teach you darker spells, not even when he’d sworn you could handle it. Not even when he’d practically begged you to trust him. You’d drawn your line and stood firm, and when he crossed it, you’d walked away.

And he missed you.

It wasn’t just the obvious things, though Merlin knew those hurt enough. Like the way you used to roll your eyes at his jokes, even as your lips twitched in a smile you tried to hide. Or the way you stood your ground against him when everyone else gave way, meeting his sharp edges with your own. No, what he missed most were the moments in between—the quiet spaces you filled without even realizing it. The way your laughter could cut through his darkest moods, or how you’d sit beside him, shoulders brushing, as you shared a companionable silence in a way that felt like a language only the two of you spoke.

Now, there was only silence. Cold. Empty. And it was all his fault.

He’d ruined it. He’d ruined you—or at least, the version of you that used to laugh with him and wipe the floor with him in duels you had no business winning. The version of you that once trusted him enough to sneak out at midnight and risk detention just because he said it’d be worth it.

Sebastian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he dragged a hand down his face. The textbook in front of him was abandoned now, forgotten in the tangle of his thoughts. His playlist shuffled to a new song, something slower, the kind of melody that made his chest ache.

Pathetic.

That’s what he felt like, sitting here brooding over someone who probably didn’t think about him at all anymore. You’d moved on. You had your perfect, spotless life, and he was just the lost cause you'd left behind.

He should have been over this by now. Hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to focus on. Seventh Year was demanding, and he had his own reputation to maintain—being Sebastian Sallow, Hogwarts’ resident troublemaker, wasn’t a title that earned itself. He liked his image well enough, even if it only scratched the surface. It gave people something to talk about, something to expect, and if they underestimated him in the process? Even better.

But all of that felt hollow tonight. He couldn’t shake the memories of you, the way things used to be, and the gnawing and incessant knowledge that no one else had ever fit into his life the way you had.

The faint rustling sound from the back of the library barely registered at first, lost in the haze of his thoughts. But when it came again, louder this time—a shuffle of footsteps, a whispered laugh—Sebastian’s attention sharpened.

Pulling out his earbuds, he frowned and glanced toward the back corner of the library. The lights were dimmer there, casting long shadows over the towering shelves.

Curiosity and a creeping sense of amusement pulled him from his chair. It wasn’t unusual for students to sneak off to the back room for some privacy, Merlin knew Sebastian had been caught back there more than once, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek.

As he rounded the corner, the whispers grew clearer—murmured words followed by a soft laugh that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew that laugh. Knew it so well it hurt.

And then he saw you.

Pressed against the shelves, your fingers gripping the front of Garreth Weasley’s shirt as his hands rested low on your waist. He was leaning into you, close enough that there was no mistaking what was happening. Your lips met his with an urgency that made Sebastian’s stomach churn.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, his mind struggling to reconcile the scene in front of him. You. The same you who avoided him with practiced precision, who sat at the front of every class with perfect posture and perfectly color-coded notes. The same you who had a spotless detention record, and never even handed library books in late. The same you who’d left him behind.

Yet here you were, shattering that image before his very eyes, snogging in the back of the library.

And Merlin help him, he felt like he was splintering right along with it. Because you were tangled up with Garreth bloody Weasley. Like it was nothing. Like you weren’t supposed to be better than this type of thing. Like you hadn’t spent the past two years proving to everyone that you were.

The first rush of emotion was jealousy, sharp and acidic, curling through Sebastian’s chest like a fire he couldn’t put out. It clawed at him, angry and possessive, though he had no right to feel either. You weren’t his. You hadn’t been his for a long time, not since you’d walked away from the wreckage of your friendship and never looked back.

But beneath the jealousy, beneath the gut-twisting ache, there was something else. Something unexpected.

Hope.

It flickered in his chest, small and fragile, but enough to take his breath away. Maybe the girl he’d thought he’d ruined, the one he’d chased away with his recklessness and obsession, wasn’t entirely gone. Maybe the version of you he’d missed—the one who laughed at his stupid jokes, who stayed up with him plotting mischief, who could hold her own in a duel and grin while doing it—was still there.

Because here you were, letting someone back you into a shadowed corner with their hands up your shirt.

You broke the kiss first, leaning back against the shelf as you caught your breath, your lips still parted, your cheeks flushed. Garreth leaned in close, murmuring something by your ear that drew a soft laugh from you—a sound so achingly familiar that it cut straight through Sebastian. He knew that laugh. It was the one you’d reserved for him, for the ridiculous jokes you’d always rolled your eyes at even as your smile betrayed you. It was his laugh.

Or at least… it used to be.

Sebastian’s nails dug into his palms as he watched, his gaze frozen in place like he was locked under a Petrificus spell. The ache in his jaw reminded him to unclench his teeth, but even then, he couldn’t shake the tension coiled in his chest.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes found his, widening with recognition, and the color drained from your face so quickly Sebastian nearly moved to steady you. The laughter that had been bubbling between you and Garreth disappeared instantly, leaving behind a stunned silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Sebastian,” you said, your voice sharp, defensive.

Garreth turned around too, but didn’t seem particularly bothered by Sebastian’s presence. In fact, he had the audacity to smirk, his usual easygoing charm fully intact. “Relax, Sallow,” he said with a chuckle, taking in Sebastian’s scowl. “I’m sure you've seen, and done, worse.”

The heat in Sebastian’s chest flared as Garreth leaned in closer to you, planting a light kiss on the top of your head. The casualness of the gesture, the ease with which Garreth claimed the space so close to you, made Sebastian’s jaw tighten.

“I’d stick around,” Garreth murmured, just loud enough for both of you to hear, “but I’ve got an essay on advanced potion theory calling my name. Can’t let Sharp down, can I?” He winked at you before stepping back.

Sebastian’s fingers curled into fists inside his pockets, the storm behind his expression barely contained as Garreth turned to him. With a grin that bordered on infuriating, Garreth clapped Sebastian on the shoulder in passing. “Try not to give her too much grief, yeah?” he said lightly before sauntering off as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Sebastian stood rooted to the spot, his blood simmering as he watched the redhead disappear around the corner, leaving the two of you alone.

You crossed your arms, your expression shifting into one of irritation, though the faint flush on your cheeks remained. "Can I help you, Sebastian?"

Sebastian’s jaw ticked as he turned his attention back to you, the mocking tone of Weasley’s words still echoing in his head. He forced his expression into something neutral but the tightness in his chest didn’t ease.

"Forgive me," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "Just trying to figure out what the hell I just walked in on."

You bristled at his words, your posture stiffening, though the flush on your cheeks deepened. “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” He let out a laugh, low and biting. "You were snogging Garreth Weasley in the back of the library, it's not like you tried very hard to hide."

Your glare sharpened, your arms tightening across your chest like armor. “Don’t start, Sebastian.”

“Start what?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though the smirk playing on his lips gave him away. “I’m just trying to figure out when you decided to join the rest of us delinquents. Was it before or after you decided that Weasley deserved the honor of corrupting you?”

Your jaw tightened, and your eyes flashed with a defiance that he hadn’t seen in ages. “You’re one to talk about corruption,” you shot back, your tone scathing. “You’ve built your entire reputation on it.”

“At least I’ve never pretended to be anything else.” He retorted, the smirk tugging at his lips sharp and humorless.

The air between you was charged, the kind of tension that felt as though it might crack and shatter if either of you pushed just a little harder. Sebastian’s smirk lingered, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which burned with something darker—something almost desperate beneath the sarcasm.

“Pretended? You don’t know anything about me anymore,” you said finally, your voice firm, but he caught the faintest tremor beneath the surface. “Don't try acting like you do.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said finally, his tone quieter now, the fire in his chest simmering into something closer to resignation. “Your spotless reputation is pretty well known, love. It’s hard not to wonder what happened to the girl I knew.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, the air around you humming with unspoken words. Sebastian stood there, his hands still buried deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor as though it might hold some kind of answer. But when he glanced back up at you, something in his chest tightened.

Because even as you stood there with your arms crossed, your chin tilted high in defiance, he saw it. The hurt in your eyes, sharp and raw, like an old wound reopened. And beneath that—buried deep, but unmistakable—there was something else. Something wistful. Something you were trying desperately to hide but couldn’t quite bury fast enough.

And then, to his surprise, you let out a soft laugh. It was barely more than a breath, but it carried a wry edge as you shook your head, your arms falling loosely to your sides. “Oh Sebastian... you only think I’m such a good girl because I never get caught.”

For a second, Sebastian could only stare, his mind scrambling to process what he’d just heard. Because this—this sounded like banter. Not the cold, guarded deflections he’d gotten used to whenever you were forced to speak to him, but something that carried the faintest glimmer of playfulness. And that little flicker of hope that had been quietly smoldering in his chest suddenly roared to life, bright and insistent, warming parts of him he’d thought had long since gone cold.

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, though it was softer now, edged with something more genuine. “Is that so?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Are you saying the girl I knew is still in there, underneath that Prefect’s title?”

You arched a brow, folding your arms again as though that would shield you from the weight of his gaze. “Maybe I just got better at hiding it,” you shot back, your voice calm but laced with a daring edge that caught him off guard.

Sebastian blinked, the smirk faltering for a moment before it came back with renewed intensity. “So the golden girl has a secret wild streak? Fascinating. Tell me more.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you replied coolly, but the faint twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed you. “I’m just better at knowing when to keep my head down, unlike some people.”

“Some people?” he repeated. “You wound me, really."

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping before you could stop it. And Merlin, that laugh—it was so familiar, so achingly familiar, that Sebastian wished he could bottle it, to hold onto this moment and never let it go.

“So what’s next for you, oh master of stealth?” He teased. “Another clandestine meeting in a forgotten corner of the castle? Or is Garreth the only lucky one?”

The mention of Garreth’s name made your expression falter, the brief levity between you vanishing like a popped bubble. You straightened, your arms crossing tightly again, and for a second, he almost regretted saying it.

Almost.

“What’s it to you?"

For a heartbeat, Sebastian considered brushing it off with a joke, deflecting the way he always did when things got too real. But something about the way you looked at him—equal parts defiance and hurt—made the usual mask feel too heavy to hold.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally. He shifted his weight, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Just… didn’t think he was your type, that’s all.”

“My type?” you repeated, incredulous. “What do you even know about my type, Sebastian?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, caught off guard by the question. The truth was, he didn’t know. Not anymore. He used to think he did. Back when the two of you spent endless hours together, when he could read your mood with a single glance.

“Not much, I guess,” he admitted, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth. “At least, not these days.”

Something flickered in your eyes at that, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any argument could have been.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Look, I don’t know what you think you walked in on, but—”

“I think I walked in on you snogging Garreth Weasley,” Sebastian interrupted, his tone dry as he gestured vaguely toward the shelf where he’d found you. “Which, for the record, is a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritation in your expression softening just slightly. “What is it you have against him, Sebastian? Did he beat you in a duel when you were 11 or something?"

Sebastian huffed a laugh, his smirk resurfacing with just enough of an edge to mask the sting your words carried. “Please,” he said, crossing his arms. “Garreth couldn’t beat me in a duel if I tied my wand hand behind my back. You know that.”

“Do I?”

Sebastian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your piercing gaze. "Look, I just didn’t think he was your… speed."

"My speed?" you repeated, your eyebrows shooting up as incredulity laced your tone.

He hesitated, fumbling for words. "It’s just… Weasley? Really?" He gestured vaguely, his lips curving into a wry smirk. "The guy spends half his time trying to turn candy into explosives. I thought you’d go for someone who could… you know, keep up with you."

Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your glare sharp enough to cut through the tension hanging in the air. "And who’s that supposed to be? Someone like you?"

The question hit him harder than it should have, and for a moment, he couldn’t find a response. Because yes, once upon a time, he thought exactly that. Back when you were still friends, back before everything fell apart, he’d imagined—hoped, even—that he might be the kind of person you’d want.

But that was a long time ago. Now, the very idea felt absurd.

"I didn’t say that," he muttered, though the defensive edge to his voice gave him away.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned slightly away from him. "I don’t know why you even care. You made it perfectly clear a long time ago that we’re not exactly friends anymore."

Sebastian flinched, the words hitting like a blow to the chest. He straightened, his arms dropping to his sides as his smirk faltered. "That’s not fair," he said quietly. "You’re the one who walked away."

You turned back to him at that, your expression shifting from irritation to something closer to hurt. "Because you gave me no choice, Sebastian."

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because you were right. And then, before he could stop himself, his lips were moving, saying the words he should have said so long ago but never had the courage to face you again and say.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it. But I… fuck. For once I just wanted to say it. I really am sorry.”

Your expression shifted the moment the apology left his lips. The tension in your posture seemed to drain away, replaced by something far more vulnerable. For the first time in years, you didn’t look sharp or guarded as you looked at him—you just looked… fragile. It was enough to make Sebastian's chest tighten, his protective instincts flaring to life before he could stop them.

He took a cautious step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though you were a skittish cat that might bolt at any sudden movement. “Maybe we should…” he hesitated, glancing around the dim library as though the walls themselves might be listening, “talk somewhere more private.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, searching his face for a long, agonizing moment. He didn’t dare move, barely even breathed, until finally, to his surprise, you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Come on,” he murmured.

He turned and began walking, glancing back only to see you trailing after him, quiet but willing. The sight of you following him, however hesitantly, sent a pang of something bittersweet through him.

When the two of you finally reached the entrance to the Undercroft, Sebastian unlocked the hidden entrance and led you inside.

The secret room hadn’t changed much since the last time you’d been here two years ago. The same glowing sconces cast their warm light over the stone walls, and the air carried the same faint chill that always seemed to linger underground. But to Sebastian, it felt… different. Smaller, somehow, with the weight of all the unspoken words that had built up between the two of you over the years.

You stopped in the center of the room, your arms wrapped loosely around yourself as though to ward off the cold. Sebastian lingered near the doorway, his hand brushing against the edge of the stone wall as he watched you.

The silence stretched again, and Sebastian shifted uncomfortably, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his wand as he searched for the right words.

“I meant what I said,” he began hesitantly, his voice low and rough, like the words were dragging their way out of his throat. “I’m sorry. For… all of it. For the way things ended. For the way I pushed you away. For the fact that I—” He broke off abruptly, his jaw tightening as he looked away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His fingers gripped the back of his neck as he tried again, his words tumbling out in fits and starts, each one heavier than the last. “I—I was a mess. I am a mess. But back then? Fuck, I didn’t even see it. I thought I was doing what I had to do. That I was right. And by the time I realized how wrong I was… it was too late.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glassy with emotions he couldn’t quite hide anymore. “I hate that I hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, though he forced himself to press on. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t stay. And I hate myself for being too blind, too damn stupid, to see what I was doing to you until you were gone.”

Sebastian took a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if he was trying to physically hold himself together. “You were the best thing in my life,” he said, his voice cracking on the words. “And I—I ruined it. I ruined us.”

He shook his head, his expression a mess of frustration and something painfully raw. “But I never stopped missing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not for a second. And seeing you now… sneaking around, breaking rules—it was like, for just a moment, I thought I still knew you.”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a shaky breath, his gaze flicking away before returning to yours. “Even if you were snogging bloody fucking Weasley.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your gaze fixed on the floor as you seemed to wrestle with your own thoughts. When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were glassy, your voice trembling just slightly.

“I didn’t leave because I thought you were a mess, Sebastian,” you began, your voice quiet but steady despite the way your hands fidgeted at your sides. “I left because I didn’t know how to help you anymore. I left because I was scared,” you admitted, the words heavy in the air. “I saw what you were doing to yourself—pushing everyone away, chasing after things that hurt you more than helped—and it killed me because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop you.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “And I couldn’t just stand there and watch you destroy yourself,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Because I—”

You took a shaky breath, the words fragile and undeniable. “I fucking loved you, Sebastian. And seeing you like that, knowing I couldn’t fix it—I thought… maybe if I walked away, it would hurt less. And maybe it would force you to save yourself.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. The weight of your confession hung heavy between you, and you laughed softly—a bitter, self-deprecating sound—as you glanced back up at him.

“So I left,” you continued, your tone tinged with wryness now. “I threw myself into rules and order and schedules. I thought if I could just be… perfect, the opposite of all that chaos, maybe it would fill the void you left behind.”

You wiped at your eyes quickly as a humorless laugh escaped your lips, bitter and raw. “But it didn’t help,” you admitted, shaking your head. “It still hurt. I still missed you every damn day."

Sebastian felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, like the very foundation he stood on had crumbled beneath him and he was left grasping at nothing, struggling to steady himself. For a moment, all he could do was stare at you, his heart hammering against his ribs as he struggled to process everything you’d just said.

“You loved me?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough, like the words were scraping their way out of his throat. “You… do you love me?”

You hesitated, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively as you glanced away. “Does it matter?” you wiped at your eyes again. “It’s been so long, and we’re… not who we used to be.”

“But it matters to me,” Sebastian said, his hands twitching at his sides as though he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“Sebastian,” you said softly, your tone wavering, “we can’t just go back to how things were. Too much has happened.”

“I’m not asking to go back,” he said quickly, his words rushing out as if he were afraid you might leave again before he could get them out. “I know I can’t undo what I did, but I’m not the same person I was then. And I know things have changed but—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration before continuing. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

“Why now?” you asked, the words quiet but sharp. “Why say all of this now, after all this time?”

Sebastian exhaled shakily, his hands curling into fists before falling limp at his sides. He couldn’t meet your eyes yet, not until he forced himself to speak. “Seeing you tonight,” he began, his voice rough, “seeing you with him… I guess it… I saw what I’ve been missing. What I threw away. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt—pretending I don’t miss you. Because I do. Every day.”

His voice softened, steadier now. “You’re still you. That girl I knew—she’s still there. I saw her tonight. And fuck, I miss her. I miss you. And I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t care how much time has passed or how messy this is. If there’s even a chance to figure this out—to fix us—I’ll take it.”

The intensity in his words left you momentarily speechless, the air between you thick. You turned away, your shoulders stiff as you tried to gather your thoughts, tried to keep your emotions from spilling over. But it was no use—Sebastian could see it now. The subtle tremor in your posture, the way your shoulders shook with quiet sobs you were desperately trying to suppress.

Sebastian’s chest tightened painfully, his throat constricting as he watched you. For a moment, he faltered, the guilt and anguish rising like a tidal wave. But he refused to let it drown him, refused to let this moment slip through his fingers. He wouldn’t let you go. Not again. Not when you were here, standing right in front of him, raw and hurting in a way he knew all too well.

He stepped closer, his voice soft but resolute as he broke the silence between you. “You said you missed me,” he repeated, his words trembling with vulnerability. “Do you still?”

You froze, your hands clenching at your sides as you tried to steady yourself, but you didn’t turn around. The pause stretched, unbearable in its uncertainty, and Sebastian took another step closer, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Please,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “Just… tell me. Do you still miss me? Do you still—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard, the weight of his emotions catching in his throat. “Do you still feel it?"

Finally, you turned, your tear-streaked face meeting his, and the sight nearly undid him. There was so much pain in your expression, so much conflict, but beneath it all was something else—something softer, something vulnerable and unbearably familiar.

"Yes, I do."

The moment the second “yes” left your lips, Sebastian was moving, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hands found your shoulders first, gentle but firm as if grounding himself, before sliding down to your arms, and then pulling you into him, fierce and desperate.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but then your hands slowly came up to clutch at the front of his shirt, holding on with all the strength you had.

It was overwhelming, the sheer force of finally holding you after all these years. You felt the same—your body fitting against Sebastian like it always had, your warmth seeping into him. And Merlin, you still smelled the same—like wildflowers and ink and something distinctly, heartbreakingly yours. The scent alone was enough to undo him, memories flooding back in a torrent that made his chest ache.

His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I missed you,” he said, his voice cracking as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “God, I missed you. And I’m never—” He swallowed hard, his gaze burning into yours. “I’m never letting you go again. Never.”

Your eyes searched his, glassy but soft, and for the first time in so long, there was no guardedness between you, no walls keeping him out. Only you. The girl who had been his anchor, his compass, his everything.

You nodded, your own tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered, “Good.”

He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was desperate and tender all at once. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. You were real, and you were here, and Sebastian swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side this time. Whatever it took to prove to you, and to himself, that this wasn’t something he would ever take for granted again.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you both struggled to steady yourselves. Sebastian’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that lingered on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words carrying the weight of everything he’d been too afraid to say before. “I’ve always loved you."

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “I never stopped loving you,” you whispered. “And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

Sebastian let out a breathless laugh, the weight of your words sinking into his chest like a balm over years of ache. His hands stayed on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek before sliding down to trace the curve of your lips.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft but teasing, “there’s one last thing I need to know before I can fully move on from the whole Weasley… situation.”

You raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at your lips despite the tears still shining in your eyes. “Oh, Merlin. What now?”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own, the familiar cockiness warming his expression. “Am I a better kisser than him?”

“Sebastian.”

“What?” he said, his grin widening slightly, though his gaze stayed soft. “I think it’s a fair question, considering…”

You narrowed your eyes, but the playful warmth in his gaze was impossible to resist. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you relented, tilting your head slightly as though to consider. “Yes, Sebastian,” you said dryly, though the smile playing on your lips betrayed you. “You’re a better kisser than Weasley. ”

His grin turned triumphant, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand slipping back to cradle your face. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping to a warm, affectionate murmur. “I already knew that. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, your smile lingered, and Sebastian’s heart swelled at the sight.

[yonomori-rei]

Wake Up!

Pairing: Husband!Chuuya x Wife!Reader

Genre: Angst

Content warning: Fighting/murder, reader death, guns, sad Chuuya

Synopsis: Chuuya has finally finished his mission, and he eagerly races home to the warmth of his wife. But he is in for a surprise...and not the good kind.

Chuuya knew something was wrong the moment he stepped through the front doorway of the house. The smile that had adorned his face a moment prior has now vanished, instead leaving a guarded expression as his eyebrows furrowed. He smoothly reached for his knife, keeping it at the ready as he entered the hallway. It was eerily silent, like the type of stillness that occurs before a planned attack.

He was in deep thought, why was his instincts screaming at him to stay on guard? There was no way his wife, (Y/N), was asleep because he had seen the lights on when he had parked his pink motorcycle in the garage. Something wasn’t adding up, and Chuuya didn’t want to think too deeply about it. He feared for the worst, but refused to acknowledge that fear, instead squashing down the nagging voice that spewed alarming nonsense deep in his mind. He didn’t want to think about that nauseating feeling in his stomach, instead opting to wonder why his wife was playing pranks on him. That had to be it, right? Thankfully, Chuuya had finished his train of thought when the first bullet zoomed towards him, giving him enough time to dodge. His eyes stayed fixed on the hole it had caused on the wall behind him. Not reacting. Not moving. His mind was racing; why were there intruders in the house?

He turned around slowly, now a slight reddish glow outlining his body, face void of any emotions, but a dangerous wrath clashing in his eyes. With a loud scream, Chuuya launched himself onto his enemies, fists pummelling them to the ground, ripping them apart with his ability. It came like second nature, the easy murdering, as he attempted to push through them all to get a glimpse of his beloved. And the red glow around him only grew brighter the longer he fought, and soon, he had given up trying to save the precious items in the room. By the time he was done, Chuuya surveyed the destruction around him forlornly, imagining the scowl that would surely be present on his (Y/N)’s face when she sees the mess and proceeds to adorably berate him for his actions.

Chuuya quickly dashed up the stairs, kicking the door of their shared room open, and saw her lying on the middle of their bed. Her eyes were closed, and he slowly walked towards her with a fearful smile on his face. Silly (Y/N), how could you not wake up at the commotion that had occurred downstairs? His mind thought, yet his mouth refused to speak it out loud. Instead, silent tears were pouring down his face, as he shakily stepped closer, his body acknowledging what his mind has not.

His wife was asleep, yes. But this type of sleep was permanent.

The sound that left Chuuya’s mouth was inhuman, guttural screams that wracked through his body as he fell to his knees besides her. Crimson red covered her like paint on canvas, creating a horrifying image as her face was twisted in a picture of pain. Cradling her head in his hand, he placed a gentle kiss on her cold skin, begging her desperately in a broke voice to come back to him. His wife, his sweet wife, had died a gruesome death, filled with agony till the very last breath.

And the worst bit? He wasn’t even there to comfort her during her last moments.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I wanted to expand my writing style – I’ve always written more action/plot heavy things rather than focus on feelings, so I wanted to try some angst since there’s lots of emotions. But I think the scenario I chose wasn’t too ideal for angst so…I guess this isn’t the best…but oh well, it was my first try after all ☺️

[lbulldesigns]

Group Chat between Vi, Mylo, Claggor, and Ekko.

VistandsforVictory has created Chat titled "Pow Patrol"

LadyKiller: Pow Patrol? Seriously, Vi?

VistandsforVictory: Yep. We need to talk about this. Powder is trapped in Demacia, and we're all planning a party instead of rescuing her.

BotanyNerd: It's a charity event, not a party. And there's not much we can do in regards to Powder Vi, Demacia is in full lockdown it's near impossible for foreign dignitaries to enter the country, let alone a bunch of nobodies.

LadyKiller: Speak for yourself. I'm going places.

TheBoiSaviour: So you finally decided what your major is going to be?

LadyKiller: 🖕

BotanyNerd: You know the rules, Ekko.

TheBoiSaviour: Sorry.

VistandsforVictory: CAN WE STAY ON TRACK PLEASE?!

BotanyNerd: Okay Vi, say we hop on the first boat or airship to Demacia to ride to Pow Pows rescue. What's the plan gonna be?

VistandsforVictory: We find our sister and bring her home.

LadyKiller: Sounds straight forward enough.

BotanyNerd: Where do we begin looking? Where would we, foreigners who have never visited the country before, start looking that the Demacian local law enforcement haven't?

TheBoiSaviour: There's also the whole "kidnapped royalty" to factor in, we don't know if in our search to find Pow we'd unwittingly draw the people she's staying out of sight of to her. And given Demacia's arrest first policy, I don't think she'd be given a fair trial before being sentenced.

LadyKiller: Also, Silco is handling finding her. He will keep us updated.

VistandsforVictory: Oh, right. Because he's done a fine job finding her and bringing her home so far.

TheBoiSaviour: He can't exactly hog tie her and bring her back Vi. That would be considered kidnapping. Also, Powder would be pissed.

VistandsforVictory: But safe.

BotanyNerd: Vi your not going to Demacia. One, Demacia is on lockdown, and their arresting anyone and everyone they consider suspicious or dangerous. Two, if your search to rescue Pow results in both of you being arrested, there would be little we could do to get you back and then we would all be pulling our hair out worrying about the two of you. And three, Dad really needs us here right now helping him with the pub, the event, and Isha.

VistandsforVictory: Don't tell me what you do! And the kid has nothing to do with any of this.

BotanyNerd: At some point Vi, you're going to have to actually acknowledge Isha's existence. She's our little sister.

VistandsforVictory: Powder's our little sister too!

LadyKiller: Vi have you been drinking?

VistandsforVictory: NO!!!

LadyKiller: Had to ask, because your making FUCK ALL SENSE!!

TheBoiSaviour: Okay, okay. Stop! This is getting out of hand. Mylo, you mean well but you really need to learn tact man. Vi, you need to understand that Isha isn't replacing Pow and Pow wouldn't view her as a replacement. I really think you need to speak to your therapist about this. Also I really, really don't think Pow would appreciate you running to her rescue.

BotanyNerd: That's it I'm bringing in Silco and Dad.

VistandsforVictory: Wait!!!

BotanyNerd invited TheEyeofZaun and WolfDaddy

WolfDaddy: Hello

LadyKiller: Why is your username WolfDaddy?

WolfDaddy: Powder made my profile for me, she said that it was factually correct whilst being anonymous. Now what's going on? Is this about Powder?

@lullabyes22-blog

[duhshereadz]

Ekko teaches Jinx how to ride a hoverboard:

The air in the Firelight base hummed with life—metal groans of scaffolding shifting, the faint whir of machinery, and laughter from the kids darting around. But in a quiet corner, Ekko stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a crate, smirking as he glanced at Jinx.

She perched on another crate nearby, her long, thin braids draping to the floor in a tangled cascade. Her pink eyes glimmered with their usual mischief as she fidgeted with a small trinket in her hands, spinning it between her fingers. “So,” she started, her grin widening as she tilted her head, “you gonna let me ride this thing, or are we just here for your amusement?”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. “Oh, it’s definitely for my amusement,” he teased, nodding toward the hoverboard standing beside him. “But if you’re real nice, I might teach you how not to break your neck on it.”

“Pfft,” Jinx scoffed, tossing the trinket over her shoulder like it didn’t matter. “You’re just scared I’ll be better than you. Admit it.” She stood up, practically bouncing on her toes as she closed the gap between them.

“You? Better than me?” Ekko said, pretending to look deeply skeptical. “I mean, you are good at blowing stuff up, but this takes actual skill.”

Her pink eyes narrowed playfully, and she jabbed a finger at his chest. “I’ll have you know I’m great at everything—except rules. Suck at those. But balance? Speed? Danger? That’s my thing, Zippy.”

Ekko groaned, running a hand down his face. “If you keep calling me that, I might change my mind.”

She grinned, stepping onto the board with zero hesitation. “Too late!”

The board wobbled violently under her weight, and for a moment, Jinx’s grin faltered as her arms flailed for balance. She grabbed Ekko’s arm with a sharp yelp. “This thing’s trying to kill me!”

Ekko laughed, his voice light and warm. “No, you’re trying to kill yourself. You can’t just jump on like that—you gotta ease into it.” He placed a steadying hand on her waist, guiding her back to center.

Her cheeks flushed, but she tilted her head, smirking up at him. “You just like touching me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said dryly, stepping back before she could make it more awkward. “It’s not because you almost faceplanted or anything.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, still wobbling slightly but managing to stay upright. “Alright, Mr. Know-It-All. What’s the secret, huh?”

He moved behind her, hands gently resting on her shoulders to keep her steady. “The board reacts to how you shift your weight, so stop moving around like a lunatic. Stand still, keep your feet flat, and let it level out.”

Jinx inhaled dramatically, stiffening like a statue. “Standing still. Got it. Like a rock. A super cool, badass rock.”

Ekko chuckled. “Yeah, sure. A badass rock.”

After a few moments, the board stopped shaking, hovering smoothly beneath her. Ekko grinned. “There you go. Now lean forward—slowly. Not all at once, or you’re gonna go flying.”

She leaned forward, her movements careful for once. The board responded, gliding forward a few inches. Jinx’s eyes lit up, her grin returning full force. “Holy crap, it’s working! I’m doing it!”

“Of course, it’s working,” Ekko said, walking beside her. “You’re not completely hopeless.”

“Wow, such high praise,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. But her joy was palpable as she started experimenting, leaning a little more and picking up speed.

Ekko smirked, stepping onto his own board. With a single smooth motion, he zipped past her. “Alright, let’s see if you can keep up, Jinx.”

“Oh, you’re on, Ekko!” she shouted, leaning forward and speeding after him.

The base turned into their playground. They wove between crates and beams, their laughter echoing in the vast space. Jinx was wild, taking every turn too sharply and almost crashing more than once, but her joy was infectious.

Ekko slowed as they neared the tree at the heart of the base. The glow of its arcane roots bathed them in soft light, and he hopped off his board, leaning casually against it. Jinx skidded to a stop beside him, panting slightly but grinning like she’d just conquered the world.

“Not bad,” he admitted, his brown eyes glinting with approval.

“Not bad?” she repeated, feigning outrage. “I was amazing! I was like—like a star falling through the sky or something!”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, a star that almost slammed into a wall three times.”

She elbowed him lightly, her grin softening as her gaze drifted upward. The stars glittered above them, their light almost shy compared to the arcane glow. “Kinda nice out here, huh?”

Ekko’s smile faded into something gentler as he watched her. “Yeah. It is.”

She turned to him, her pink eyes unusually calm. “Thanks, y’know. For teaching me. For putting up with my crap.”

He hesitated, his chest tightening at her rare moment of vulnerability. Slowly, he leaned closer, his voice quiet. “Always.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away as he closed the gap, brushing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, unhurried, filled with a care neither of them quite knew how to put into words.

When they pulled back, Jinx blinked, her grin creeping back as she tried to hide how flustered she was. “Okay, maybe you’re not completely terrible at this.”

Ekko chuckled, stepping onto his board and motioning for her to follow. “Come on, Jinx. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They took off into the night, their boards weaving in tandem under the stars. For once, the chaos of the world felt far away, leaving only the sound of their laughter and the hum of the boards as they soared together.

[yuansie]

ocean memories : chapter one.

synopsis. you never listen to your parents. what makes them think you'll listen to them now?

pairing. rafayel x fem! non mc! reader

warnings. reader is a preteen or a tween in this HAHFAHEFA so is rafayel, ooc preteen raf oopsie daisy (it's for the plot, unfortunately), formal speaking (it's set in the olden times...), reader's hair and eye color change to specific colors (it's for the plot... IT'S FOR THE PLOTTT PLS DONT HATE ME 😭🙏🏼) but skin color is not specified (obvi), raf is kind of serious... just a little bit (i think), slight spoilers to his forgotten sea myth (kind of?), reader is also supposed to be the smartest kid in her village . if there's anything i should add, please let me know!

genres. fluff

rating. sfw

w/c. 2.7k hahaha... 😟

a/n. HELLOOOOOO this was so long bye i didn't mean to make this chapter long but it happened so good bc sometimes i struggle even writing a sentence down BYEEE anyways ! for this section of the series, dialogue will be very formal because i do NAWT want to write in shakespearean ! bro's plays are good to read but writing it? NO ! reading raf's forgotten sea myth with all the "thy/thou" words had me internally crying.

YOUR PARENTS LIKE TO SAY THAT YOUR CURIOSITY WILL GET YOU IN TROUBLE, and while you don’t agree with them, you think their words might prove you wrong tonight.

the adults have always said never to head to the current by the coral reefs, said that it's too dangerous. you asked your parents once about why it was so.

they never answered you.

and then you asked the head of the village once—he said that you were too young to know.

to know what? that it's just a current? what is a current going to do to your strong tail? what will it do to a lemurian?

these vague answers have done nothing but pique your curious mind and your adventuring-craving bones. and so you find yourself laying wide awake at night, waiting and waiting until you know your parents have gone to sleep and are well into their dreams.

it's easy to slip out afterwards, easy to swim past the sea lamp outside the front door and the other homes. it's easy to swim past the village head’s place and head to the coral reefs behind it. the current comes into view quickly, easy to distinguish by the light blue waves that rush down and disappears beyond the wall of coral reef.

your parents words echo in your ear: stay away from the currents.

but they’re pushed away, a soft voice calling out to you. come closer. the voice sounds pleasant, not too deep nor too high pitched. it calls out to you again, come to me, find me, their words lulling you closer to the currents. and you move closer, abiding to the voice’s request. then you blink, finding yourself in the current. laughter erupts from your throat and spills from your lips, “and they said it was danger—” you squeal, waving your arms wildly when the current abruptly pulls you down, taking you away. you wait for the coral reef to scratch your skin and tail, but there was never any pain. it was almost as if the current protected you from it as it dragged you away, tugging down you to the entrance of what looks like a cave.

you’re dropped softly on sand, your mind absolutely blank from what just happened. the eerie silence gnaws dread into your bones, your heart beginning to pick its pace up. you’re all alone in some cave who-knows-how-far-away from the village. you push yourself off the sand, your tail hitting the ground and sending sand upwards. just as you’re about to explore the area to find a way back, you stop and tilt your head to the side, watching how the image of the cave shimmers and vibrates, its appearance morphing into what you think is a temple.

columns of pristine marble that look whiter than the pearls you sometimes see in the market, renders you speechless. you swim closer as if you’re in another trance, slowing to a stop right at the entrance. there is no door to keep you out, only a pitch darkness separating you from the inside. you stretch your hand out, fingers embraced by the darkness inside for a few seconds. the darkness doesn’t startle you, you feel no fear as you look into it but rather a strange calmness. the darkness erupts into a blinding light, making you shield your eyes until they adjust to the sudden brightness. the light now illuminates the temple and you move inside. your breath stops at your throat, wide eyes taking in every detail of the beautiful temple. you swim and reach an alter, blinking in confusion at the body of a boy around your age lying there.

the boy lies flat on his back, dark lashes and purple hair contrasting against his pale skin. his skin is so pale you think he’s sick, so you press a hand to his forehead and then your own against the back of your hand, closing your eyes. his skin is cold, though it soon warms up much to your surprise. you feel soft puffs of air against your skin; your eyes flutter open to find a pair of bicolored eyes, with beautiful hues of ocean blue and sunset red, staring back at you. there’s a faint glow of red by his shoulder blade, but you don't say anything and neither does he, choosing to just stare at one another.

“i am so sorry,” you say, leaning back to give him space. “i was just checking if you were sick since you looked so pale…”

“i am not sick,” he says, eyes trained on you. the intensity of his stare makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but you decide to hold his stare. “i was merely sleeping.”

“sleeping?” the embarrassment you feel is washed away and replaced by curiosity. “all the way out here and not in whalefall village?"

he ignores your question and closes his eyes, “i have been waiting to get awakened,” he opens one of them to look at you, “you should have woken me up when i grew into an adult.”

“…what?” your curiosity is now skepticism because you have no idea what this boy is trying to say. “are you okay?” you look at him with narrowed eyes, studying his features. “you are not from the village. i would have recognized you.”

he ignores your question and rambles instead, “of course i am fine,” he says, “like i said, i was just sleeping, waiting to be awakened; now that i am awake…” the corners of his lips slowly lift and he points at you, “i have a question for you.”

“for me?” you point at yourself.

the boy nods. “i don't see anyone else here, now do i?”

you huff through your nose. “alright… but first, you must answer my question!”

he quirks an eyebrow up. “...okay. what is your question?”

“what is your name?”

the boy blinks at you. “i am the god of tides.”

your jaw drops, “what?” clearing your throat, you hit his arm to which he yelps in surprise. “don’t speak lies!”

he rubs the sore spot on his arm, his lips forming a pout. “i am not lying! i am the god of tides!”

“the village head told me that the god of tides has not been seen in over hundreds of years!”

“that’s because i was sleeping in my temple!” he huffs and throws his arms up. “i was waiting for my priestess to wake me up!”

“priestess?”

“yes!” the boy gets up from the alter and swims to you. “the deep sea told me it would send a girl who loves the sea more than anything, with hair the color of sea foam and eyes like sea… and here you are!”

“woah there,” you chuckle, lifting your hands to push the boy away from you. “i do not have sea foam-colored hair nor eyes like the sea.”

the boy points at your hair. “yes you do.”

you grab a strand of your hair in your hair and look down, choking in surprise at the color of your hair: blue sea foam that appears when waves crash on the surface. turning towards the boy, you grab his shoulders and shake him. “my eyes! what color are they?”

he rolls his eyes, “i told you that they are blue like the sea. why have you already forgotten?”

“no!” you whine, “my parents will kill me! that is not the color of my eyes nor is my hair this color! what did you do to me?”

the boy shrugs. “the deep sea must have blessed you when it chose you to find me.”

breathing in deeply, you exhale slowly, your hands still on his shoulders. “you say you are the god of tides, yes?” he nods, and you continue, “the village head once told me that only the god of tides could wield fire… can you?”

he pushes you away enough to create some distance between you two. your arms fall to your side as you wait with bated breath, and the boy holds a hand out, a fire burning brightly in his palm. he glances at you through his eyelashes, his lips forming a bright smile at the sight of you watching the flame in his palm with awe. the flame flickering in your blue eyes, he thinks, is pretty.

very pretty.

“oh,” you gasp, snapping him from his thoughts. “i was rude to you. i am so sorry.”

he waves it off. “i will forgive you because you are my one and only priestess.”

a priestess to the god your people have longed for.

you beam at him, “thank you—ah.”

“what?”

“your name,” you say, “you never told me.”

you watch the boy scratch the back of his neck as he thinks before finally replying, “i don’t have one.”

“what?” you gape at him like a fish does when it’s out of the water. “you have no name?”

“no.”

you close your eyes and tap on your upper lip with a finger, thinking long and hard. there is a text book you read not long ago, a text book the village head had lent you after you asked about the god of the sea. while reading it, there was a name that had appeared in the text that you liked.

“rafayel.”

blue and red eyes stare at you with curiosity. “rafayel?” he echoes.

“yes,” you grabs his hands and smile at him. “i read it in a book the village head gave to me. it means god has healed, and our god has finally healed and is back.”

rafayel mirrors the smile on your lips, gripping tightly onto your hands. “rafayel,” he says, “i like that name.”

it hasn’t been long since you woke rafayel and took him back to the village, and while the village head wanted to stick to his side like glue and aid him in whatever he could, rafayel had shooed him away, claiming that he only needed his priestess—you.

“you cannot be serious right now,” rafayel deadpans, watching you with narrowed as you swim about in the temple, the trinkets you had found on the surface clinking in your arms, “why would you go to the surface? again?”

“because it is fun and,” you raise your arms slightly, “i can find these odd things. they are fascinating, raf!”

rafayel furrows his eyebrows. “fascinating?” he repeats, glancing at the things in your arms before looking back at you, grimacing, “they do not look like that to me.”

“well, they just are!” you let the items go, letting them drift as you swim to your friend. “why don’t you go with me?”

“go with you?” he hums in thought. “no. the people will not let me leave the temple.”

you grab his hand tightly. “but i will be with you, rafayel. nothing bad will happen.”

you can see the gears in his head turn before slowly nodding. the corner of his lips twitch as you brighten, beginning to ramble about what you will show him first. he won’t admit it aloud—no, he can’t because he must remain a noble figure in your eyes—that he is excited to see with his own eyes the wonders you hold dear to your adventurous heart.

it’s almost comical how you wait until nightfall to sneak out of your home and head to the temple to meet rafayel. you have to continuously pinch your hand to refrain from laughing at how easy it is to slip out of your room and past the homes.

your parents will never learn, you think as the temple comes into view.

“rafayel?” you stick your head inside only to yelp in surprise at how quickly rafayel appears in front of you.

he gives you a lopsided grin, calming your racing heart instantly. “did i scare you, my priestess?”

“what do you think?” you grumble, slapping his arm. he whines, rubbing the sore spot on his arm as he sticks his tongue out at you. his foul mood is washed away when you grab his hands and press a finger to your lips, winking at him as you lead him to the surface.

out the temple, take the current to the coral reefs, swim to the canyons and cliffs, go up.

moonlight reflects on the surface of the water when you two emerge from it.

rafayel turns his head to face you, grimacing. “you sneak out for… this?”

the island not too far in front seems bare, lacking the human trinkets you like so much. there is only but the beach and the forestry, nothing else.

“that is because we are not on the beach,” you say, dragging him closer to the sand. he lets you drag him. “and there was a storm last night. there will be treasure to find once we are at the beach.”

when his tail brushes against sand, you release his hand and push yourself out of the water, your tail which once shone with beautiful, iridescent scales, turns into human legs. twirling around on legs foreign to him, smiling so brightly he thinks he might be staring at the sun, you hold out your hand. “what are you waiting for, rafa?”

he grumbles, pushing himself up from the water. his tail morphs into human legs as well, and he takes a wobbly step towards you, almost falling. you laugh as you catch him, your skin warm against his. “this is not fun,” his cheeks feel like they’re burning, a feeling he has never felt before—perhaps it is embarrassment.

he looks at you, a frown etched on his lips. “lemurians are meant to swim, not walk.”

you giggle, continuing to support rafayel as you walk to the other end of the beach. “we lemurians can do anything, rafie.” you point at something, and rafayel looks in front of him to find something glimmering as the moonlight shines on it. “see that?” you whisper, “that is the treasure i was talking about.”

you bring him over to the object that shines, which happens to be a circular metal with a button on top, a thin chain hanging on its back. you grab it excitedly, like a child given a candy, and show it to him.

“what am i looking at?” he asks.

“a pocket watch!” you press the button on top and the circular contraption opens, revealing a ticking watch at the bottom and a small mirror at the top. “oh, this one is different.”

“how so?”

“the other ones i have found usually have a map here,” you tap the mirror. it reflects his eye and tufts of his hair on the left while the right shows your eye and sea-foam colored hair—he remembers you saying that you’re still not used to the new colors of your hair and eyes, admitting that you miss the original colors. you catch his stare through the mirror and wink at him, continuing, “but there is a mirror here.”

he averts his gaze. “i must admit… it looks interesting.”

“i told it was interesting and you did not believe me!” your smile, so infectious, brings one to his lips.

you go on a scavenging journey while he opts to sit on the sand near the water, watching as you run back and forth on the beach, sometimes stumbling and falling. when he attempts to get up to check on you, he always falters when he hears your laughter echo into the sky soon afterwards. eventually, you tire from your search and plop down next to him, dropping your new trinkets next to you. your legs turn into your tail, and you rest your head on rafayel’s shoulder.

his legs turn into his tail, and he gently hits the ground just as a wave nears both your tails, splashing water onto the two of you.

“you have pretty scales,” you say, your tone soft. “they remind me of your eyes and your eyes remind me of the how sunset looks when it is reflected on the ocean’s water.”

“you have pretty scales, too. prettier than mine.”

“really?” you ask, shoulders slightly shaking with the giggles that spill from your lips.

“yes.”

when he’s back in his temple, watching you swim back to your home, he thinks that maybe the surface isn’t all that bad.

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taglist (open). @bakutual @nadinefromwhere @justmystical @holywaterbucketchallenge

OCEAN MEMORIES, yuansie 2024

[cheezybiscuits]

Field log: Elliot Manor

Note: The following is an illustration and transcription of audio and video recordings streamed from investigation of ground zero for SCP-468395. Instances of SCP-468395-A will continue to be referred to as Corrupted Security Drones (CSD) despite recent discoveries on their origins as standard drones.

Michelle: You hear that? behind the door over there, there's two voices talking.

Jordan: Yep. Could be the target. Stay on guard, she has weapons.

Team proceeds to the end of the hallway. Agents get into position in front of the doors and Jordan kicks it open.

Tessa Elliot: What-

CSD: Yeah NOPE!

Six rapid gunshots are heard and visual feed is disabled. Only one microphone records the following segment.

[04 level clearance required to access full file. Verify clearance level to continue] (Click keep reading)

Tessa Elliot: Wow…uh…okay…you just killed some SCP staff?

No one speaks for 3 seconds.

CSD: Well…yes! They’re hostile and intend to capture us, right?

Tessa Elliot: What happened to the boot licker you described a minute ago?

There is no talking for another 3.5 seconds and the CSD vents air as if to sigh.

Tessa Elliot: Anyway, back to those questions, so [SCP-468395-1-C] wore my skin huh? Is that why my corpse over there looks fresh from the slaughterhouse?

CSD: That’s correct.

Tessa Elliot: And now some gothy lookin' drone ate Cyn’s core and…survived? And has control of the solver now?

CSD: I’m skeptical of the twerp’s success myself.

Tessa Elliot: (chuckling) You keep calling her a twerp but the more you describe this kid the cooler you make her sound.

CSD: You think N is cool, because you’re kind like that.

Tessa Elliot: Psh, nah. He’s pretty cool, especially with the vampire-angel thing going on now.

CSD: Now you’re demonstrating what I just said.

Tessa Elliot: Do you think N would be cooler if he drove a company car?

CSD: On the condition that he'd get an upgrade for his cognitive processor.

Tessa Elliot: Are you sure you'd like that? You'd get competition for employee of the month.

CSD: Not if leadership and being cool are in the criteria.

Both chuckle.

Once again there is no talking for 3 seconds.

CSD: I have questions too.

Tessa Elliot: Oh?

CSD: How do I know I can trust you’re the real Tessa? You could be an anomalous doppleganger, an illusion, or any other type of deceptive SCP.

Tessa Elliot: Huh. (Pause) You got me there. I can’t exactly prove I’m not any of that. I betcha can tell my fingerprints are different, right?

CSD: And your facial structure has slight differences, along with your brain. Oh and I don’t need to scan you to see you’re 4 centimeters shorter than you should be at your alleged age.

Tessa Elliot: Hm. Well that tracks with me being a clone right? And there’s bound to be differences with how fast they grew my body. As for the height uh…I’m not as exactly well fed as I was from before the apocalypse?

CSD: Okay.  Next question: How does a technical genius that's avoiding the foundation think it would be a good idea to go to ground zero?

Tessa Elliot: I kind of wanted to see what was left of my stuff here.

CSD: How is that enough reason to risk all the dangerous-

They pause yet again. This time for 2 seconds. The CSD sighs again.

CSD: You wanted to look at your own corpse didn’t you?

Tessa Elliot: That and see if Dad’s SCP collection is still here.

CSD: …You know what, that passes as Tessa behavior.

Tessa Elliot: Right! Knew you'd come around!

CSD: Next question. You said you're avoiding bunkers since most of them are extensions of SCP-2000 right now and you'd get caught. How do you expect to survive outside of bunkers? What happens if you’re starving and can’t wait out a six-week glass-dust storm to take off your helmet for food or water?

Tessa Elliot: I got my own shelter for that. But I don’t know how much I can tell you about it.

(Transcribers note: What they’re saying next was sometimes hard to make out because they started talking at the same time and interrupting each other a lot. Francis if you find anything inaccurate here I just want to remind you, minimum wage, minimum effort.)

CSD: What? Why? I was completely transparent with you. That’s not-

Tessa Elliot: I kind of….have my own team I’m working with as you’d say? And, I dunno, you said you’re not working for the foundation right now

CSD: Yes but I wasn’t finished-

Tessa Elliot: And we're both different from the last times we saw each other-

CSD: That's true but I still haven't mentioned-

Tessa Elliot: To be blunt I don’t know who your next boss will be but they definitely won’t be friendly to me.

CSD: Yes but please Tessa wait second!

Tessa Elliot: I-alright.

CSD: (Pause) I said I was between employers, but I meant under the previous circumstances. I-it's different now. You're...alive now. Before, you were gone, I had nowhere to apply. Then I read about SCP-2000, and-

They pause again for 4 seconds.

CSD: As long as you’re alive, you’ll always be my boss, Tessa. Just, please, if you'll accept my application.

The subjects pause again for 6 seconds.

CSD: Wait shit-

Tessa Elliot What? What is it?

CSD: Wireless signal in the corner of my eye- son of a bi-

Audio picks up a single gunshot before disconnecting.

[Additional notes: Tessa Elliot has accessed files on recent 05 council members.  It is a top priority to capture and either amnesticize, or terminate the target.]

[we-stan-the-stans-27]

Sleeping Beauty AU?

@sixerstanley Here had this HUGE big brain idea and I immediately sprung into action to write a little something about it.

Basically, they read a merlin fic where a spell made it seem like Merlin was dead, but he was basically asleep and aware of everything going on. Arthur was not having a good time. (trauma and pain ensues) I'm going to replicate it, based on the idea alone.

(Also, I had no idea this would turn into an almost 4k oneshot, oops! Color me inspired, I guess! I can do this, but not my actual fan fiction. LMAO!)

Suffer with me. (JK, enjoy. XD )

For the first time in weeks, Ford had allowed himself a full night's rest downstairs. Why not reward himself, just this once? The rift is sealed, the universe is safe, and things are slowly getting back to normal. Or as normal as they get in the pathetic excuse for what used to be his home.

Ford still has a hard time calling it what it is, 'The Mystery Shack' is a little on the nose, isn't it? The exhibits are hardly anything close to a mystery. They're botched taxidermy projects.

Insults. That's what they are.

A slap in the face to his life's work.

Whatever, that's not his problem right now. Coffee is the first order of business.

It's early and no one else is awake, but the coffee pot is still hot with a fresh pot. One cup appears to be missing. Stanley must be awake then.

Ford takes his time pouring the life-bringing liquid into his favorite cup (it is amazing Stanley didn't break it or lose it after all these years) and adding in ample sugar, and a dash of cream for color.

He adds a single ice cube to cool it faster, listening to the sounds of the house. It's silent, too quiet.

Ford can't help that even in a peaceful environment it puts him on edge.

The TV is off and a walk through the living room reveals Stanley isn't sitting on the couch. The first-floor bathroom light is off, door is slightly ajar, but empty.

That's weird.

He really shouldn't be looking for his brother anyway since the only good that will do is start another fight. It's too early for that.

Ford settles back in the kitchen, hovering near the window and sipping his cup watching the clock on the wall tic on. Minutes pass.

The silence is no longer just putting him on edge, it's sounding alarms.

Why? There is nothing dangerous here in the house, they are perfectly safe here now that Bill has been dealt with.

What then?

To put his own stupid mind to rest he leaves the empty cup in the sink and goes upstairs to the attic, checking on Dipper and Mabel.

They are both still fast asleep in their beds. Dipper, drooling on his pillow with half the blanket on the floor. Mabel, hair stuck up in all directions, clutching one of her many stuffed animals like it might try to escape.

Waddles is here too, curled up on its makeshift bed on the floor.

He stays just long enough to ensure they are all breathing, and sleeping soundly, before noiselessly going back downstairs.

The second floor is as empty as the first, including Stanley's poor excuse for a room. It is a mess of half-packed boxes, several trash bags, and the always-unmade bed.

Soon enough the house will be normal again.

Stanley will be gone, the kids will go home- (Perhaps they'll visit again next summer? It's a shame Dipper can't stay) and the Mystery Shack business will be over forever.

This once secluded corner of the valley will be that way again, his haven away from prying eyes. And tourists.

With the interior of the house cleared that only leaves the yard and porch.

Ford makes his way out onto the one Stanley finds the most use out of and the worry he hadn't realized to be carrying vanishes. There he is, sitting back dead asleep on the disgusting couch. How old is that thing? It appears to be growing several kinds of mold along the bottom because of the constant rain this region gets.

One hand is barely holding onto Stan's coffee cup, the arm of the couch holding it up while its owner sleeps.

"Seriously, Stanley? Being old doesn't give you an excuse to sleep anywhere, much less flash the local wildlife in little more than boxers." It's a good dig, in his opinion, and he speaks loud enough to rouse Stanley despite how hard of hearing he has become over the years.

Except no quick response comes.

Stanley doesn't so much as twitch in his spot on the couch.

The fear comes back-

Oh, don't be ridiculous!

"Very funny, Stanley." He lets the door close, quietly, before moving to stand in front of his brother, hands on either hip.

He looks, really looks, at Stan.

And sees nothing good.

The first notable, and most concerning finding, is that his brother isn't breathing. He waits, watching, assuming this to be a breath hold.

A joke.

But that isn't the only concerning evidence. Stanley's eyes are also halfway open, looking over the yard. Empty.

Not funny anymore, very much NOT funny!

Ford does not panic, not yet. He moves and picks up the cup, plucking it out of his brother's hand- It lacks any strength, like taking a toy from a child.

"Stanley? Wake up. Very good joke, you got me. Stop it now." He kneels on the couch, next to him, after setting the cup aside on the porch by their feet.

For the second time since coming home, Ford touches Stanley. This time with a kinder hold, reaching up to press two fingers along the pulse point between the jaw and collar bone, off to the side of the Adam's apple.

Nothing.

'One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten-'

He could count on one hand the number of times true panic has overtaken him in his lifetime. It isn't a luxury one can often afford when coming face to face with death constantly in the multiverse-

But what harm can come of it when someone is already dead?

His hand stays right where it is, tucked into the still-warm skin-

"No, this isn't funny-" But Ford's voice shakes and he snatches the hand away quickly. If he can't feel the lack of pulse, it's not there. Simple.

How didn't he notice? When did this happen?

What happened?

No- Ford turns, looking around the peaceful yard. Dew covers the grass, the sun peaked up about half an hour ago basking the clearing in pink and yellow hues.

There isn't any blood.

Death is messy. He has seen it countless times, but it is never, ever, peaceful. Knives, guns, cracking bones, broken bodies...

Looking back at Stanley none of that is present. The skin is still pink, and warm, eyes open but- Dead.

No. That can't be. It just can't.

Stanley looks almost peaceful, asleep. His coffee, barely a sip or two taken from the looks of it. "No."

Panic takes many different forms. Initially, instinctively, Ford looked for the cause. It had to be someone, something, who did this. Who took his brother?

But there is nothing, no one, in sight. No blood.

"Stanley, who-" His feet stop, body stalling, in the middle of turning back from the yard to look at the corpse...

He had been about to ask, to question who did this. But a dead body can't answer. A dead body, a corpse.

There is a distinction between a vessel and a person, or so Ford had always thought.

Everyone dies and until then you live inside and pilot your body. Someday, it becomes a corpse and you leave it behind.

That is such a cold and callous way to look at it, in retrospect. Because this, is Stanley. He's just- Gone.

With quick hands, Ford begins looking, almost in a frenzy, for the cause.

No blunt force trauma to the back of the head. No perforations to the abdomen, arms, nothing. There is nothing.

But that's not possible, people don't just-

Except they do. Sometimes-

No. NO! Not them, not him! Stanley Pines wouldn't just die, not without a fight!

Death doesn't play favorites, anyone can go, anytime-

"Shut up! No, he wouldn't! He wouldn't leave me!" It comes out in a shout and shakes him.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

He never allowed himself to think very far into the future, how could he? Everything was always changing and it was better to live in the now anyway. So long as you were safe now, other things could be handled later-

Except later doesn't always wait for you to be ready. Time has its own plans and you have to work around it or something-

Stanley wasn't supposed to die. Isn't! he can't be-

Except-

There are no obvious injuries, but then again there don't have to be. They may not be old, but they're old enough. Brain aneurysms take hold suddenly, killing the affected almost instantly.

Leaving barely enough time to set down a cup of coffee-

Or a heart attack?

No, Stanley would have come inside, asked for help-

Wouldn't he?

"You idiot!" It comes out in a hiss from where Ford has shifted. He's kneeling right next to Stanley, hand on either shoulder, looking at his half-open but- Dead. Dead eyes. Empty. Gone.

Soulless.

Ford isn't sure who he's talking to. Himself? or Stanley? Both?

"I would have helped you, we could have called someone, I-" He has to pull away, sinking down into the empty space of the couch to hide the tears springing up without permission.

This can't be happening. Things weren't supposed to end like this-

Oh yeah, how was it supposed to go then?

With you, kicking him out next week? Leaving him homeless, again, just like Pa?

"Stop it! I don't know, not like this!" Stanley was always the stronger between them, persevering through everything no matter what happened.

Is this my fault?

What a stupid question.

It forces him to sit up again, one hand covering his face while half peering out at Stanley.

Of course it is. What did you expect? That he would take his life being uprooted lying down?

Did he do this on purpose?

In the rush to pick up the cup of coffee Ford almost knocks it over but finds he can't hold it without spilling some of it over the sides, down onto the porch, anyway. He is left with no choice but to set it back down to avoid wasting the sample.

Maybe.

Ford takes both a physical and mental step back, leaning against one of the columns holding up the roof over the porch, to look around.

Breathing is getting a little more difficult, coming in tight short inhales and smaller and smaller exhales.

What better way to get back at me? Thirty years of a life spent learning math, science, and engineering skills well beyond any normal human's comprehension, for what?

To get a brother back who first chance he got told him to pack it up and get out?

"What kind of brother am I?"

The kind who would rather be right than-

Then apologize. Forgive. Make up. Let go.

And now, it's too late. The train left the station, Stanley is gone, and its all my fault.

"He died thinking I hated him." That realization is what breaks the decade-old dam, tears finally escaping. Ford closes the distance, sitting on the stupid couch and pulling Stanley over into a hug, even if he's not here to feel it.

The lack of strong, still buff, arms encircling him, returning the sentiment only makes him cry harder into the thin and crappy tank top Stanley must have worn to bed.

"I'm sorry." He chokes out between sobs, "I thought I'd have more time, you'd have more time. I didn't think- How could I?" Nothing he's saying is making much sense.

The ramblings of a heartbroken lunatic.

As if we really deserve to be upset, like you'd of cared if it wasn't life or death-

Maybe his own thoughts are right. If Stanley had been alive, sitting here, having his morning coffee they would have traded morning insults before going their separate ways.

But that's not the reality they live in. This one is much worse, much darker.

I spent so much time running away, trying to break apart, and be unique. No longer part of a broken pair, or what I saw as one, I-

"I never expected to miss it when the other half was gone." He is still shaking, refusing to let go, with thoughts still scrambled in a million different directions.

CPR wouldn't do any good now, although it's a nice thought. If Stanley came out here directly after preparing his coffee then that was almost twenty minutes ago, give or take-

Oh god. What about the kids?

Without letting go Ford checks the time on his watch, wincing. A few hours at most, but he'll have to call the coroner-

What does he do?

For the first time, possibly ever, Ford feels lost.

Not only because his twin is currently dead, which is already world-ending, but everything that comes with it.

Who does he say the corpse belongs to? Stanley Pines has been dead for decades-

Is that why he did this? So that Ford could slot right back into his old life, fixing the broken and shattered history? No. This had to be an accident-

Only the testing of the coffee will confirm it or not.

Ford has never had to stick around and deal with a dead body before. Moving on was easier, and necessary. He can't remember attending a funeral, other than their great aunts when they were barely seven.

That's not the same. He'll have to make arrangements, put together pictures, and give a speech-

About a life he knows nothing about.

"God, I'm sorry Stanley. I'm so sorry." It feels safe to let his voice break here. No one is around to see how completely destroyed he feels. "All you ever did was love me, and I pushed you away. I crushed it, refused, and now..."

"Now you're gone. I can't even remember the last time I told you that I love you, but I do. So much, more than I could ever handle." Ford can't let go, but he does shift back to look at his brother's face, holding his limp body with one hand and clearing his own tears with the other.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad I'm here. Thank you, for bringing me back." He has to close his eyes, fresh tear tracks spilling across both cheeks, "Even if only so I could say goodbye. I'm glad I got that, at least. If only you were here-"

With a broken voice, Ford can't stand looking at Stan like this anymore. He reaches up, closing both eyes with feather-light fingers, before leaning close to press them forehead to forehead. Just like when they were young. Before everything.

It's odd. How fast do corpses cool? Not that Ford is going to complain. It lets him pretend, just for a few more moments, that Stanley isn't gone. That they could have this again.

Too little, too late.

"I love you, Stanley." It comes out broken and cruel, like the universe is mocking him. What was the point in protecting them from Bill if death came knocking anyway?

For the first time since coming home, Ford understands.

Finally, he can see why Stanley wasted so much of his life trying to bring him back. Because he loves so much, so big. To his own detriment.

He would do anything, even destroy the world, to have Ford by his side again.

"I'm so sorry, you deserved so much better." How different could things of been?

What would Stanley of done instead? Gotten married? Had kids?

A better family, that's for sure.

Ford knows he can't stay here forever. He needs to let go, head inside, and make some phone calls. To tell Soos to close the shack for the day, get an ambulance to bring Stanley to the morgue.

He needs to prepare for when the kids wake up and figure out what to tell them.

But first, he indulges himself a little bit more by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Stanley's lips. It smells of coffee, cigars, and denture cream, but Ford can't detect any sort of drug or chemical from close proximity alone. It's nice.

Not what you'd expect from a corpse, but it's enough.

A goodbye, a real one in a weird broken way. Just their luck.

The absolute last thing Ford expects, upon starting to pull away, is to feel the body still pressed very tight to his own take in a very deep breath followed by Stanley's discarded hands coming up to grab at him.

"Stanley!" His voice is still broken, mixed with anger and joy in a typhoon of confusion.

And Stanley? He has the nerve to laugh!

"Don't think you're walking away from that so easily!" No longer locked inside his own body without the ability to do anything it's a relief to be able to breathe. But even better, he can pull Ford over on top of his lap, locking one leg in place against the side of the couch.

"Excuse me! I thought you were dead! What the fuck, Stanley! You can't just go around pretending to be dead to mess with people! What if the kids had found you, or Soos, or Wendy?! You would have scared them half to death, you scared me half to death!"

Truly, it's a complicated story. One Stan is pretty sure Ford doesn't want to hear right now when his mind is running a mile a minute.

He has other things that need to be said instead of explaining whoever that weird wizard was who came out of the forest.

Forcibly Stanley grabs Ford's face, bringing him down so they are face to face again, leaving no room for argument in their close proximity. "Shut up, will you?"

Being locked in was sort of a blessing because participating in the conversation is so much harder than he thought it would be moments ago. He steals his nerves anyway, "I love you too, I'm not dead, and I'm pretty sure forty years should have made you a better kisser than that. Otherwise, I've got my work cut out for me. Try again."

By now Ford's face is bright red both out of anger at being tricked and embarrassment at their current position. But Stanley's hands are no longer weak, holding him tightly in place. Not that he seriously wants to argue anyway.

Stan waits, but the longer Ford stares, the more unsure he becomes. Maybe he misunderstood? Or maybe Ford just has a thing for corpses and now that he isn't one, the interest is gone.

Fair enough, Stan knows he isn't much to look at. Age wasn't as kind to him as it was to Ford. All lean muscles, few wrinkles, and barely greying hair. It's stupid, really.

It would be hypocritical to go right back to being mad, wouldn't it?

Just because Stanley isn't dead now, doesn't mean he won't be next time. Or the time after that.

Anything could happen.

Ford knows he should pull away. They should talk about what the hell just happened. He should move off his brother's damn lap!

Or, he could give in to the very thing he's spent two-thirds of their lives running from. The details and tough conversation can be hashed out later, right?

It's the hold on his jaw loosening that yanks Ford out of his spinning thoughts back to the present. Stanley is pulling away, looking down-

How long was he lost in thought? It couldn't have been more than twenty seconds. Did he change his mind? No, then why does he look so-

Well. Stanley looks the same as he always does.

Oh. Briefly, for a few seconds, Stanley was being brave. He opened up and showed his hand. Let himself be vulnerable.

Idiot!

His hands had never fully left Stan's shoulders, but he tightens their grip now, shifting one up to cup along the underside of his jaw. He doesn't feel the need to say anything, because neither of them has ever really been good with words.

He leans down, surprising them both, with a much more insistent kiss.

A hello. And maybe? A new beginning.

[thomaslittlegirl]

Hi love!

you could write something about Tommy where they are a bit possessive of the reader but a non-toxic sweet possessive type that is all the time saying 'my wife' every time he says her name he makes sure to say that she is his wife🥹 If you could put a little bit of jealousy where maybe someone sees her too much and he makes sure to move his hand down a little further than her back so they know she's definitely his wife🙂‍↕️

And the reader is SO proud to be his wife! She even leaves him a kiss on the tip of his nose and he turns red and tight because well it's Tommy '😤'

Sorry I have cramps these days and I just want something sweet🥺🥺♥️♥️Please take it only if you are comfortable, I send you love!🫂

ps. I love your work, you are amazing at this!🫶🏻

i hope your cramps go away! also hope you like this. sending you love back 🫶🏻🩷

his wife. thomas shelby

warnings; jealous thomas, michael wants u lol

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

everyone who knew you, knew that you were thomas's wife, because that's how he introduced you: "y/n, my wife."

on your finger lays a beautiful golden ring, a promise that you would soon become his property forever… it's not like you weren't already; you belong to shelby from the moment he laid his eyes on you and worked hard to conquer you. the ring was simply a promise to make it official.

you two were engaged, but he already presented you to everyone as his beautiful wife.

sometimes you even thought you might forget your own name since everyone called you "shelby's girl."

the gypsy was proud that everyone knew their place well. no man who wanted to keep his eyes spent more than five seconds looking at you, not if they truly valued their lives.

there were many bad men outside, many dangerous people who would not hesitate to hurt you to get to him... that's why he was always watching you, keeping you close where his eyes could see you.

everyone knew their places, except for someone: his damn cousin.

michael was centimeters from your body, making some jokes that he couldn't hear due to the distance in which he was from the two of you, but jokes that made you laugh out loud.

his hand clenched tightly around his glass of whiskey, watching the exchange of laughter between the two of you.

no one at the party had noticed his anger, except arthur. his brother looked at him seriously, giving him a nod, showing him that he also understood what was happening.

he thought it was enough.

thomas slammed the glass hard on the table and seriously addressed you, the music ringing in his ears with annoyance.

as soon as he reached you, his hand went to your hip. "doll." he said, squeezing the skin that your dress hid. "michael." he greeted his cousin too.

"cousin." gray greeted, making a grimace with his mouth that imitated a smile.

"is something wrong, love?" your sweet and naive voice reaches his ears and made his serious gaze finally detach from his relative and address you.

"no. just wanted to be close to my wife." he responded, smiling at you for a second before turning completely serious again and looking back at michael.

the youngest noticed how thomas's hand on your hip went down to your ass and stayed there, holding his palm firmly against you.

"you should go, michael." shelby spoke again. "gina was looking for you." his eyes and hard expression told gray everything he needed to understand, and the boy looked into his eyes for a moment before nodding.

"see you, mrs shelby." he murmured in a tone of voice that you couldn't understand but thomas did. he fucking did understand.

when you were both finally alone, you turned to look at thomas with a smile, totally naive and oblivious to everything that was happening.

his blue eyes looked at you fondly, with desire. you couldn't help but leave a small kiss on his nose, watching him smirk.

"my wife." your fiancé uttered, giving you a squeeze. "i can't wait for everyone to leave so i can have my doll all to myself."

[highfantasy-soul]

So I read Bloodmarked and feel the strong urge to write a 'fix it' fic for a certain love story.

spoilers, obviously

the insane desire to fix the Sel/Bree dynamic - starting in book 1 - is strong

Sel should have remained combative to Bree in book one, not suddenly turn and fall madly in love with her by the end of the book. He should have only stayed with her for duty because she's Arthur's Scion and it should have been made clear in the story that it was killing him staying with Bree because he's bonded to Nick.

He should have still been combative as she doesn't want to stay hidden, but it should have been 100% duty as to why he was staying with her and protecting her.

BREE should have actually done things to change his mind, not just be the main character. She should have studied past Order dangers they faced and how they overcame them, she should have kept training with weapons and her aether, she should have actually DONE things to try to get Nick back (giving updates after her bloodwalks), and should have worked tirelessly to help others and learn enough to really help in this war.

AND she should have shown how she's different from just any other Scion - she should have pushed for a different perspective, sought out others to help in the battle since she does know about others who use magic. She should have pushed for inclusion and bringing everyone into this fight in the ways they can instead of just leaving it to the Order. She should have researched more about Merlins through this study of magic and perhaps pointed out inconsistencies in the official records, she should have gotten empathy after seeing how much is expected of Merlins and the standards they have to keep and the punishments if they don't - giving her understanding for Sel's position and why he behaved the way he did in book 1. She should have kept in touch with the Lieges who are part of this war, but have different perspectives too.

They should have SEEN each other DOING things to protect people and fight demons SEPARATELY rather than Sel only existing to protect Bree when she's done something stupid or someone is after her. Bree should have DONE something other than run around helpless and complaining about being helpless until she explodes with power.

They should have learned to RESPECT each other for their own actions and histories and seeing how hard each other are trying to do the right thing - and always butting heads because their methods are so different. KEEP the arguments! KEEP the conflicting perspectives - but have them argue with RESPECT for each other, pleading their own cases, but never devolving to petty shit since, you know, they should be focused on protecting people from Camlann.

---

THEN.

THEN! When Bree is attacked and is bleeding out and Sel gives all his energy to keep her alive, THAT'S when he realizes that he's not just saving her because she's the Crown Scion, he's saving her because she's Bree. He can't stop thinking about what would be taken from the world if BREE is dead (her desire to bring together the different communities, her desire to help others even when she can't access her power, her questioning of long-held beliefs and push back on how Merlins are treated and how enslaved all the Legendborn are to the Order's rules down to who they're allowed to marry and her desire to change that) and that he didn't think once about the cost to the Order or the Lines. THEN we can have his change and the slow burn enemies-to-lovers become apparent.

Nix all this 'you're the most strongest, beautifulest, bravest, phenomenal person I've ever met' bullshit - since he can't give examples of her ever being those things! If you think you can come up with reasons, give me some that don't revolve around her power or her attempting to claim her authority - give me some examples of her ACTUALLY HELPING people. As it stands, the narrative only gives us 'Bree is super powerful and pretty and that's enough to make her brave' - no actual action on her part, just how she was born.

Idk, all the tension was just like......we GET IT! She and Sel LIKE EACH OTHER!!! The narrative just has to have arbitrary reasons they can't be together even though they're very clearly attracted to each other! Sel was super concerned about her being out to hurt Nick in book 1, then 180 and he's in love with her now. It's ok for him to be annoyed that she's in the middle of this and she has no idea what she's doing! It's ok that he's annoyed she has such little frame of reference as to how to fight this war and lead the Order! It's ok if he's still annoyed at her in book 1 because he thinks Nick deserves a bodyguard who actually knows what they're doing!

It really pissed me off that Sel started out as a cool, very hard and sharp character, then once he decided he didn't want to kill Bree anymore, he became a completely soft butterball of a person. LET GRAY CHARACTERS KEEP THEIR EDGES!! Stop smoothing their rough parts once we're on the 'to lovers' path!!

Their whole contention could be that she's studied the Order and sees all the ways it needs to change and offer solutions - maybe specifically how the Merlins are treated - and Sel could push back because of all his self-loathing and fear of himself that the Order pushed in him and so he's always playing 'devil's advocate' for the Order and all their methods of control. Stay in line and you stay safe - they've kept Onceborn safe all these years, why fix what isn't broke and risk the chaos that would bring - chaos demons feed on. Bree could push back on him arguing 'WHO' is being helped, WHO has been kept safe? Rootcrafters hunted down by the Order? Onceborn POC who are subjugated under Vassal power given to them by the Order but wielded in the Onceborn world? The Legendborn who have no control over their lives? The Lieges who will die early because of their curse?

Have Sel and Bree actually bring up real and nuanced themes to explore in the story instead of petty shit like it was. Make their arguments MEAN something more than just 'I'm worried for your safety/You're smothering me'.

Make their rivalry real, make Bree's character DO something, and make Sel begin to question his fear of himself and the control the Order brings him. THEN they can start to have feelings for each other based on concrete actions and who each other are, not just 'oh no, he's hot'.