#before this I was completely neutral to them

[captain-huggy-bear]

Guard Dog

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for the Washington Capitals game (Jan 2025), anger/conflict, derogatory commentary towards Reader

Summary: You are feeling particularly protective of Quinn after the game against the Washington Capitals and run into Dubois.

Notes: I was ready to throw hands at Dubois for purposefully seeking out and trying to hurt Quinn so...

Apologies to Dubois but he's now my arch nemesis and if I was actually dating Quinn I know I'd hold a grudge, sorry, I'm sure you're a great guy but...not today. Reminder that I am writing a fictional version of these people and what I do write is not representative of them in real life. Don't sue me, Dubois, this is fictional you, not real you. 👀

Also I don't think Quinn is generally violent or aggressive but I do think that if he felt someone he loved was being treated in a way that was disrespectful/aggressive, that he wouldn't avoid conflict. Protective boy in my eyes.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You wanted to say that you were used to watching how violent hockey could get, especially when that violence was directed at Quinn, but that would be a lie.

Watching as Quinn was practically attacked by Dubois, watching him be targeted had you gasping and jumping to your feet in an instant. The way he knocked Quinn to the ground had your heart thudding in your chest and you'd gotten to your feet instinctively like you could physically go out and defend him, like you had any ability to do something when in reality you were completely helpless, stuck behind glass.

That intense feeling of protectiveness had only increased as Quinn was pulled from the scrum by Dubois again like he was being hunted down, targeted. It grew almost unbearable, a protectiveness mixed with anger, as you watched Quinn try to keep his distance, shoving away from Dubois even as he tried to hold him close, as Quinn tried to protect himself while avoiding roughing himself, only to receive a penalty anyway. That anger grew watching the way Quinn was stuck in the penalty box, the way he was desperate, standing, wanting to get out after his 2 minutes, only to be stuck because play was ongoing for another 3 minutes.

You had never hated a player before. Players had upset you in the past, annoyance at the way they'd dealt with something or how they'd behaved towards Quinn, but you'd never seen someone so determined to hurt your boyfriend. It was that sheer targeting, the way Dubois followed Quinn, gunned for him for no reason, especially given he was still sporting a hand injury, that had you hating him immediately. It had you itching to say something, do something for the entirety of the game. You could barely concentrate on the actual game, too amped.

You couldn't help the way your leg bounced angrily the entire game, the way you bit your lip, the way your mind ran through all the things you'd like to say to Dubois about his behaviour. That feeling didn't disappear as the game ended and you waited outside the locker room for Quinn, if anything it grew from how hard you tried to suppress it. You felt a little like a ticking time bomb.

That anger boiled over the moment you saw Dubois coming down the corridor towards you after the game. Dubois was freshly washed and changed, laughing with his teammate, Roy, like he hadn't been trying to hurt your boyfriend for half the game. You tried to keep your comments to yourself, but couldn't keep the angry glare, the deep scowl, from your features as you leant against the wall, arms crossed. You knew you were giving him the evils, that if looks could kill he'd have died five times over, but you couldn't force your face into neutrality, not when you felt that buzz of anger in your chest. It was dangerous for him to target Quinn like that, it was unfair, it made you wish you were 6ft 8 and built like a brick shit house so at least you could throw a punch in Quinn's honour. Instead you had been absolutely helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

You heard it muttered, whispered, an exchange of 'what's her problem?' and 'that's Hughes' girl...', that had you almost vibrating with anger. Dubois should have left you well enough alone, should have read the room and let you cool down. He shouldn't have assumed he could mess with you in that moment. But, since when have hockey players ever missed a chance to chirp?

You watch him stride up to you, a glint in his eyes that spelled trouble and only served to push more adrenaline through your body.

"You got a problem with me?"

"Walk away." Your voice is clipped, short, an attempt to maintain a sense of decorum, to control your anger because the last thing you want is to embarrass Quinn by getting into a fight with a rival hockey player on the same night his team lost a game. The last thing you want to do is make matters worse and in the words of Marie from Aristocats 'ladies don't start fights'.

"Or what? You going to cry cause I grabbed your little boyfriend?" His sneer reminds you of every bully you've ever known your entire life. Brutish, stupid, and with a deep desire for power and control, the sort of desire that causes them to be nasty, be mean, to try to hurt people because it shows that they can. It only makes it harder for you to control your feelings, nails digging into the palms of your hands as you clench your fists tight, like that will help keep you back.

"I'm telling you to walk away because I will not be responsible for what I say or do if you don't. Walk away." It was probably comical to him, the way you stepped forward and squared off with him, a man well over 6ft tall. You were relatively small in comparison. It didn't matter to you though, all that mattered was the fact he'd gunned for Quinn, for your lovely, kind boyfriend who avoided fights at all costs and tried to always be a reasonable, decent player. Your boyfriend who tried to play clean. Your boyfriend who was still injured. Your boyfriend who was under an insane amount of pressure right now. Your boyfriend who had only just come back off of rest for his injury.

"You've got some balls on you, lady, more than Hughes does at any rate."

You're certain your eye twitches, certain you're one bite away from causes your bottom lip to bleed. Certain that you've dug half moon circles into your palms. Certain that murder doesn't seem quite that bad of a crime right now and that you could survive prison.

"Walk. Away. Now."

"So you're the man in your relationship, huh? Is Hughes your pretty princess?" It's the hateful, misogynistic attempt to demean Quinn that causes you to snap. It's his refusal to just walk away, the goading, the pushing, the way he steps closer into your personal space, leers over you in an attempt to intimidate you with his size that finally does it. But, he doesn't seem to realise that you're too angry to be intimidated, you're not really thinking about yourself, about the situation, about the fact he's twice your size. So it doesn't matter that he could break you if he wanted to. It doesn't matter that he should be scary. He's not in that moment, because you're simply too angry, vibrating with rage.

"You're a vile, disgusting human being,y'know that? He's still injured, you fucking knew that and fucking went for him? What the fuck did he do to you? You trip him, you gun for him, you then try to pull him from the scrum?! What the fuck is wrong with you?" You could each infraction off on your fingers as you move into his space and push the two of you further into the centre of the corridor.

Maybe it's how loud you are or maybe it was just good timing, but Quinn and Boeser step out of the locker room just in time to see you yelling in Dubois' face, to see the grin on his lips like he's enjoying it. It's honest to god fear, mixed with a protectiveness that he always feels for you, that has Quinn practically sprinting the short distance to you.

He's pretty sure you don't realise you're shaking with anger or how close you've gotten to Dubois, practically nose to nose, leaning up while he leans down, until his arms are wrapping around you and pulling you back against his chest. Even in his arms you're shaking with adrenaline, eyes fixated on Dubois like a look is enough to put him in the ground.

Dubois' eyes shift to him, and Quinn can't help the set of his own features, the stern glare that he directs to the other man even as he's smirking back at him. If anything the way he seems to be enjoying this makes Quinn's expression sterner.

"Keep your little plaything on a fucking leash, Hughes." The grin Dubois sends his way is toothy, predatory, the sort of grin that tells Quinn he knows what he's saying and he knows what reaction it'll get. It doesn't stop Quinn's shoulders from tensing, it doesn't stop the tightness in his chest and it certainly doesn't make it easier for him to keep his usually cool head.

"What did you just say?" It's almost whispered, low, quiet, and it makes you stop shaking in Quinn's arms because there's something deadly about it, something that tells you not to push him right now even when you're not the one it's directed at. Something that makes you still in surprise.

"I said keep your little plaything on a fucking leash."

There's a prolonged pause, one in which Quinn looks back behind him, eyes finding Boeser, a silent sort of conversation happening between them, an agreement reached.

"Brock?"

"I got her." The blonde man steps forward as Quinn turns you in his arms and pushes you gently to Brock, Boeser pulling you into his own arms and away from the other two men.

"Quinn?" You're not sure what's happening other than the fact that the fear is starting to set in. All that anger, the adrenaline that had kept you so focused on Dubois, had started to fade. It left behind a shaky sort of anxiety, as reality hit you, that this was not just a simple argument anymore.

You gasp and move back into Boeser as you watch Quinn turn back to Dubois and just as suddenly grab him by the collar of his suit jacket, slamming him back against the wall. While Quinn is shorter, he's certainly not small or weak by any stretch of the imagination and Dubois doesn't expect it as he's shoved full body into the wall behind him, his feet struggling to keep up with the harsh movement backwards.

Quinn is nose to nose with him, glaring up at him with a look you can only describe as murderous, "You ever talk about her like that again and I will break your fucking nose. You don't ever talk to her or about her like that. Do you hear me?" The interesting thing about it, is how Quinn doesn't have to yell. In fact, his voice low, but it's the edge to it, the way it feels sharp enough to cut that makes his feelings clear.

"Oh? Now you think you're a big man, what you gonna do with that hand of yours?" Dubois' eyes shift to the brace on Quinn's left hand, the one that you can see trembling under it's own grip. It upsets you, that he's hurting himself for you, that you started this, as much as part of you preens under his protection.

"My right hand is just fine, Dubois. Yours won't be if you don't back the fuck down." Maybe it's the way Quinn's eyes narrow. Maybe it's the way his teeth grind together. Maybe it's the way he shoves Dubois even harder into the wall or maybe it's something else entirely, but something seems to make Dubois realise that Quinn is serious. That Quinn has every intention of fighting for you if he has to, if the disrespect is not corrected, if Dubois doesn't back down.

Maybe Dubois simply doesn't care enough or maybe he's intimidated by Quinn because he mutters, "Whatever...", hands shoving Quinn's away from his collar, one last glare exchanged before he and Roy walk away, whispering the entire time.

You're practically shaking in Brock's arms, Brock who releases you gently once Dubois and Roy walk away, Brock who backs away to the locker room with one last look to Quinn, leaving the two of you by yourselves.

Quinn's shoulders drop, relax as he watches the two men turn the corner and disappear out of sight, before green eyes shift to you, features softening into something affectionate and gentle. A stark contrast with his expression mere moments before.

He's the one who reaches for you, stepping until he's in your personal space, hands resting on the sides of your face like he thinks you might physically be hurt.

"You okay?" His voice is soft, sweet, as his thumbs brush your cheeks, green eyes darting over your features, trying to assess how you are and if he needs to chase after Dubois and teach him a lesson or two.

Quinn will openly admit he's not a fighter nor does he want to be, but the strong surge of protectiveness in him overrides his usual aversion to violence. He'd fight anyone for you, if it meant you were respected, protected, safe. He doesn't care that Dubois gunned for him out on the ice, all he cares about is the way he got into your face out in the corridor.

"Am I okay? Are you okay? He almost took you out on the ice!" Even as you say it your voice is shaky. Quinn knows you better than he knows most people, he can hear that shake a mile off, knows that that shake is a sign you're not okay, that that shake usually comes before a break.

It's why he doesn't answer you, it's why he pulls you fully into his arms, wrapping them around you until you're chest to chest.

So he asks again, "Baby, are you okay?" Only to feel the way your body starts to shake aggressively in his arms, like your body has just caught up to the situation, like the adrenaline has fully left your system, leaving only the after effects.

His voice is soft as he mutters to you, "Oh, you really worked off instinct, huh? Just now realising you nearly fought a 6ft 2 hockey player for me?" Quinn's quick to pull you tighter against him, a full body crush, rocking you side to side as his cheek presses into your hair. His hands rub up and down your back, attempting to sooth you as the reality of it all fully kicks. As you realise how stupid it was of you to do that, how scary the situation actually was, how you should have just walked away.

"Fuck...did I just really do that?" Your voice is shaky, almost wet, like you might start crying.

"Uh huh...yeah, you did, baby." His voice is almost amused, sympathetic, now the worst of it is over Quinn can't help but find your actions endearing. The way that you, of all people, decided you'd go toe to toe with a massive hockey player on his behalf.

"Fuck." You press your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath as he rocks you from side to side. You don't regret it, not really. You'd defend Quinn to the death, you love him and that meant protecting him, just like he'd protect you. But, you have to admit, it wasn't perhaps your smartest idea or your finest moment.

"It was kind of hot, baby, but please don't do that again. I nearly had a heart attack seeing you nose to nose with him." Quinn's actually certain his heart stopped when he walked out of the locker room. You'd seemed so...fragile in comparison to Dubois and while he knew you, knew you weren't weak, it had scared him. The idea of you getting hurt was one of his nightmares, even more so you getting hurt because of him.

You pull back as far as he'll let you which really isn't very far, tilting your head back to look at him, "You nearly fought him for me..." your voice is almost disbelieving like you can't understand why he'd step in like that for you, his girlfriend.

"Yeah, I did.." Quinn's smile is soft, loving, eyes crinkling at the corners as you practically gape at him.

"But you don't fight." You look so confused that it almost breaks his heart because who taught you that you were unworthy of protection, who taught you that the people who love you wouldn't step in when needed?

"I'd fight for you. Any day. Any week. Any time. I'll always fight for you, baby. You're my girl." He says it like it's just a fact of life. Like 2 +2 = 4 or that water is wet. He says it like it is the most natural thing to exist.

"But...you don't like to fight." He hates fighting, you know because whenever he gets in one on the ice or has to break one up, he complains when he gets home. You know because everything about Quinn is gentle and soft, always slow to anger and quick to find a diplomatic solution.

"Yeah, I know." Quinn smiles at you amused, "But I love you and if the choice is between protecting you or not fighting, I'm always going to pick you. That's what you do when you love someone. You'd protect me, right?"

"Of course." You don't even hesitate because it's like breathing, that instinct to look after him because you love him because he's your person.

"Then there's your answer, sweet girl" He watches the way you nod like it is starting click, like it makes sense. His hands brush cross your shoulders, tugging you into his side, twisting so his arm is slung over your shoulders. Your shaking has long since stopped and whatever anger both of you felt has since faded under the sweetness of realising you're both loved, both protected.

"You wanna go back to the hotel? Enough excitement for one night, huh?"

"Mmm, yeah...You're okay though, right? Your hand?" You shift under his arm, eyes looking to his left hand and the brace there, watch the way he flexes his fingers as if to remind himself he can.

"I'm okay, baby, especially knowing I have you to fight my battles for me." Quinn kisses the crown of your head, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose as he pulls you tighter to his side.

In that moment the hotel room sounds great, home would sound even better, but you think home might actually just be Quinn and wherever he is.

[lilipens]

✧. A LITTLE BIT OF REST.

Synopsis: Academics have been gradually taking a toll on you, with each assignment and exam building on the last. Lately, it’s become more noticeable—how the stress chips away at your energy, leaving you drained. They’ve started to pick up on it, and each in their own way, they try to cheer you up. Pairing: All Dorm Leaders/Housewardens (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus) x Gender Neutral!Reader Warnings / Genre: N/A. Super duper Comfort, Fluff + Headcanons A/N: highly self indulgent LMFAO. not proofread sorry,,,, also just a quick heads up that i'll probably be posting during sundays more often due to school!

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS.

As someone who studies diligently and holds himself to high standards, Riddle knows exactly how it feels to be overwhelmed by the pressure of academic perfection. He doesn’t just observe your burnout from a distance— he feels it too.

When he sees you pushing yourself too hard, he knows what’s at stake, and his approach is much more calm yet purposeful. He won’t let you bury yourself in endless work without reminding you of the importance of balance.

Riddle values dedication but knows that pushing yourself too far isn’t strength. When he sees you struggling, he steps in with a clear plan to help you recover and stay on track. Using his own experience, he adjusts your schedule or breaks tasks into smaller steps, making things feel more manageable. His goal isn’t just to make you rest but to help you regain control in a way that feels doable.

Rest for Riddle isn’t just about taking a break; it’s about being productive in a different way. He’ll suggest a short time for reflection, perhaps guiding you through a mindful pause to help you reconnect with your goals and recharge.

Though he’s not one to openly express his own vulnerabilities, Riddle has an understanding of the mental and emotional toll of hard work. He provides you support not through grand gestures, but through his steady and practical care. It’s the small things that matter.

Hunched over your papers, your eyes barely staying open as you try to cram as much information as possible. The hours blur together as the pressure mounts. You don’t notice Riddle until he’s already there, standing by your desk with crossed arms. His gaze lingers on the scattered papers, and he steps forward.

Without asking, he begins gathering your messy notes. As he stacks the papers, he refuses to let the silence drag on. “I’m sure you believe this constant cramming is going to help,” he starts firmly, ��but you are wearing yourself thin. This isn’t the way to do it.”

“Oh, come on, Riddle,” you protest, feeling conflicted. “You know I’ve got an exam way too soon… I can’t slack off.”

“The more you push yourself beyond your limits, the less effective you become. You’ve been at this for hours, and it’s clear your mind is no longer functioning at its best.” is what he immediately debates with.

You frown, reaching for your notes— Yet, Riddle moves them away from your grasp and he continues on. “You can’t keep going at this pace and expect great results. You’ll just make yourself worse off in the end.”

His blue-gray eyes lock onto yours as he pauses, his tone softening just a touch but still carrying that undeniable authority. “You’ve done enough for now. Take a break before you burn out completely. I won’t allow you to overdo it.”

You want to keep arguing, but his words settle in your mind, and the exhaustion creeping up on you makes it impossible to ignore. With a reluctant sigh, you do realize that Riddle’s right—you need rest, not more study sessions.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

Direct and unfiltered, Leona wastes no time to call you out when he sees you overdoing it. He’s not one for flowery words or unnecessary concern. There’s nothing that can speak louder than his own actions.

And so, he’s able to somehow sense when you’re tweaking out with something, even if you’re trying to push through. His approach is straightforward, helping you reset before you hit your breaking point.

Leona is the type to catch the tiny to huge signs that you’re overworking, and he’ll take action without any warning at all. 

No patience for excuses. Leona doesn’t entertain any attempt to justify your stress. If he sees you trying to power through, he’ll just tell you flat out that it’s not working. Leave it be. He won’t stand around while you waste time on a subject that’s clearly draining you. Instead, he’ll give you no choice but to step back. His reasoning? If you’re going to make mistakes, at least make them while you’re not running on fumes. 

Will let you complain— then call you out. Leona knows that sometimes you just need to vent. He’ll let you grumble and complain about your studies, yet the second you go in circles, that’s where he tells you to quit it. No sympathy, no coddling—it’s just making you know that whining won’t solve anything. That’s his way of caring.

The numbers blur together on the page. Formulas spin around in your head like it’s some sort of ancient language, and nothing seems to fit. You rub your temples, frustration building as you stare at your notes.

“This is insane,” you groan, pushing the paper aside and running your hands through your hair. “How am I supposed to get this in one sitting?”

Next to you, Leona’s sprawled out, his tail lazily swishing and arms behind his head, completely unbothered from how messy your reviewing is. His eyes are closed, looking more relaxed than you’ve felt all day. 

You glance over at him with a heavy sigh. “This is ridiculous. I’m never gonna get this.”

Leona doesn’t even move, but he opens one eye. “What’s the point of complaining, then?” Doesn’t seem amused about your predicament either.

You freeze for a second, your brain scrambling to find some excuse to keep going. “No, well... I just need a little more time.”

“No, you won’t,” Leona states bluntly, which is pretty much true.  “You’re already failing at this point. Take a damn break already.”

You take another look at your lecture and slump back. Definitely not going back to that diabolical thing, so you toss your pen aside. “…Actually, taking a break sounds nice,” you relent, utterly defeated. 

Leona forms a tiny smirk on his face. “Told you.”

You give in with a huff, lying back on the grass next to him. The minute you stop stressing, the thorn on your shoulder disappears and you find yourself, surprisingly, more at peace than you’ve been all day. Leona’s just smarter about these things than you give him credit for.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO.

To Azul, burnout isn’t an abstract hurdle; it’s a problem with a clear, actionable solution. Much like closing a deal, he breaks the issue into manageable pieces, pinpointing what’s been putting you down and offering precise ways to address it.

Support from Azul is as seamless as it is intentional. He doesn’t overwhelm you with constant attention, nor does he ignore the signs of your stress. Rather, he intervenes faintly, leaving a refreshing drink beside you or proposing an unobtrusive break when the strain becomes too evident. It’s thoughtful and calculated, fitting into your routine with ease.

Relaxation is something Azul transforms into an art. When he insists you rest, it’s far from ordinary. He creates an experience: a calming atmosphere, perhaps a luxurious bath, or a lovely massage from yours truly. Every detail is curated to guarantee your recovery is successful

No favors without a price. Azul is a businessman at heart! And although he’s genuinely concerned, he’s not going to help you for free. But this time, his terms are different. What he asks for isn’t payment or a favor— it’s your commitment to take care of yourself properly. Rest and recharge, he insists, are the only things worth trading in this scenario, and he holds you to it.

Even as he maintains a composed exterior, Azul knows what it’s like to hit a wall. If you’re struggling or in need of a break, he’s not one to demand it. He’ll gladly offer his help without hesitation. Whether it’s lending a hand with the task at hand or encouraging you to obviously take a rest, he’s quick to make you feel you’re not left to push through alone.

From what’s happening, Azul doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong—he can tell. He’s already behind you, his hands already working at the tension in your shoulders that weighed as much as the books you had to read for an upcoming test. 

“Struggling, are we?” Azul hums, already knowing the answer to that question. As he continues working the knots from your muscles, his fingers press with intent. “If you think pushing through this fatigue will help you, you’re mistaken.”

His fingers move with an objective, easing the tightness in your muscles. "Rest now, and you'll be able to focus better later," he adds, as if it’s just as simple as that. "Trying to study while you’re exhausted isn’t going to help anyone." 

You feel the tension melt away, and despite yourself, you start to relax. Azul knows exactly how to make you see sense. Rest isn’t a luxury—it’s part of the process. And with his steady, gloved hands guiding you, you can’t argue with that logic.

KALIM AL-ASIM.

His positivity is contagious! When you're overwhelmed, Kalim’s first ever instinct is to lighten the mood and fill your space with good vibes. He focuses on bringing joy to the moment to let you un wind.

Recognizes when you need a break and insists on it. Kalim won't just suggest you rest—he'll almost make it impossible for you to say no! Whether it’s dragging you out for a fun activity or turning study time into a game, he’ll find a way to get you to step away from overdoing it tooooo much.

While his energy is usually high, he knows when to tone it down, if you ever tell him to. He’s totally okay with just being there for you!!

Encourages you to let loose. Kalim’s the type who knows when to push you to relax with a little spontaneity. He may not always be able to solve your problems, but he’s great at distracting you from them. Expect impromptu dance breaks or sudden trips out to take your mind off things. Expect a sudden food trip as well.

A signal that you deserve fun and joy. Kalim doesn’t just want you to get your rest—he wants you to actively seek out happiness, even when the work feels unending. His care for you goes beyond just helping you with burnout; he wants you to feel good in every way possible.

Ugh, these mountains of assignments before you feel insurmountable. No matter how many notes you review, the information just doesn’t stick. Kalim watches you with a concerned expression from across the room, clearly not fooled by your focus. And so, he slowly tip-toes his way to you.

Without warning, he’s up and out of his chair, grabbing your hand with a wide grin. “Alright, that’s it! No more homework for you! We’re going to do something fun!” he declares, pulling you up before you can protest.

“But Kalim, I need to—”

“Nope!” He cuts you off, leading you outside to an open area on campus. “You’ve been working hard, and now it’s time for some fun! You’ll thank me later!”

Despite your initial resistance, you find yourself enjoying with his antics. Kalim’s infectious energy is difficult to ignore, and before you know it, you’re not thinking about textbooks or formulas. After a while, the stress that had weighed you down earlier feels lighter, and you realize that, for once, you’ve actually enjoyed yourself.

“See? Now you’re ready to get back to studying, right?” Kalim asks, his smile bright as ever.

You nod, grateful for the reminder that taking a break is just as important as the work itself.

VIL SCHOENHEIT.

Prioritizes your well-being as much as your performance. Vil understands that success isn’t only about hard work; it’s also about taking care of yourself. When he sees you pushing too hard, he steps in with a nudge to make sure you’re looking after your own needs.

Vil knows that sleep is crucial for maintaining your appearance. If he catches you burning the midnight oil, he’ll quickly point out that lack of sleep can lead to skin problems. He won’t let you skip out on sleep, ensuring you get enough hours to keep your glow intact!

Pushes you to strive for excellence, but not at the cost of your health. Vil doesn't mince words. He’ll tell you that while excellence is key, it’s impossible to reach your full potential if you're physically or mentally drained. His tough-love approach aids you to rest guilt-free.

While he ensures everything you need is within reach, Vil steps back when necessary, giving you space while still overseeing that you’re on the right path. He knows when to be hands-off. What he wants is more about guiding from a distance, making sure you’re supported without being smothered.

Takes a no-nonsense step to self-care. Vil is not the one for empty comforts. When he suggests rest, it’s because he’s seen the signs that you’ve reached your limit. He’ll encourage you to take a break in a way that ensures you actually benefit from it. And that’s through mindfulness exercises or making sure you get full hours of sleep.

Feeling Vil’s hands as they gently rub the toner into your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. “You’re not going to retain anything if you don’t take a step back,” he chides, smoothing a serum into your face. “Your brain’s running on empty, and pushing through it will only make things worse.”

You hold onto your textbook weakly, but Vil silences you with a pointed look. “Studying can wait. Focus on yourself now.” He's firm, but the soothing rhythm of his movements suggests he’s already in control, seamlessly switching between products as he guides you through the routine.

By the time the routine is finished, you feel more at ease. All that clog in your brain has been cleansed by Vil. “You’ve done enough for today,” he tells you assuredly. “Now rest and recover. Your studies will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

IDIA SHROUD.

Even if he's not the best at emotional support, Idia’s way of helping during burnout involves a combo of companionship and gaming. If you’re stressing out, he’ll slide a controller over to you or invite you to join him for a match—it’s for you to take your mind off things and go AFK from your studies for a while.

When you’re pushing yourself too hard, Idia will pull you away from your textbooks by loading up a game that's often Minecraft or some multiplayer game he’s grinding. He doesn’t really say much about your stress, though the simple act of playing together shows how much he cares about your well-being.

His ability to aid is kinda noob-level, like trying his best to lead you out of a burnout dungeon. He might rambles out of thought from time to time, making him worry you’ll get overstimulated. He’s not exactly smooth; still, his effort is there, even if he's not sure himself things will work.

While gaming together, Idia can be a bit of a tryhard, fully immersed in the game and urging you to focus on the mission rather than stressing.

Idia’s version of self-care is a bit unconventional (as if he takes care of himself properly), but if it means getting you to step away from your textbooks and level up the EXP you lost, he’s all in. He’s sure that winning a few rounds or building a house together is a surefire way to recharge.

You're scrolling through your inventory, trying to figure out where you want to build next. A farm? A simple house? Pixel art? The game’s peaceful enough since both of you are in creative mode. You glance at Idia, who’s still kind of lurking, hovering with his controller in hand, but he’s waiting for you to take the lead.

“So, uh... where should we make the house?” Idia asks, trying not to sound too eager but clearly wanting to get into it.

Without much thought, you pick a spot, pointing to a flat area by a river. “Here,” you mutter, a little more focused on building than anything else. “This seems like a good place to start.”

After a few more minutes into the game, you start to gradually get more energetic. He’s quiet now, looking over you as you get more into it. You’re starting to improve, and he can’t help the small sense of relief that washes over him. It’s a little thing, watching you regain your focus and energy. But, it means the world to him.

MALLEUS DRACONIA.

Malleus is keenly attuned to the smallest details, a habit shaped by his nature. His observation picks up on the tiniest shifts in your demeanor—the signs of stress, exhaustion, or when something feels out of place in your routine. He might not constantly show it, but he’s always watching (in a good way).

When it comes to burnout, Malleus is unfailingly gentle. He won’t pressure you into rest, and offers you to step away from what's keeping you in a hassle. A calm walk in the garden becomes his suggestion, a chance for you to breathe.

Malleus knows he does not need to be forceful. He never demands rest, respecting when you prefer solitude. If you need time to yourself, he’ll watch from a distance, assuring you're okay without intruding on your space. His care isn't as obvious, but you know he's always there, guarding you. After all, you are his favorite person.

Having been isolated for much of his life, Malleus is deeply aware of what it feels like to be overlooked or having to mask turmoil. He recognizes when you're retreating into yourself, and without making a big show of it, he makes his presence known. It’s not about asking if you’re okay—it's just how he shows you that you are not alone.

Malleus’ care doesn’t shout; it’s felt in silence. It’s when he talks to you to take your mind off things. He’s not trying to fix you, merely offering light when everything feels heavy.

Ah, finally. Some fresh air that keeps you refreshed. You walk side by side, taking in the breeze. Malleus walks with his usual regal presence, though every so often, his eyes wander, taking in the details of the scenery.

"Do you think gargoyles are more than just statues?" Malleus suddenly inquires, innocent curiosity laced within his tone. It's as if he’s pondering the thought out loud. "I’ve always thought they have more purpose than being mere decorations."

He takes a little peak at you, eyes gleaming with that same intensity. "In my homeland, there are gargoyles that watch over the castles. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re meant to protect the place, like guardians."

He pauses for a second before turning to you again, that soft smile of his still visible on his face. "What do you think, human? Are they just stone, or do they have some deeper meaning?"

It’s a random thought, but you can’t help feeling endeared by Malleus’ strange musings. He’s not seeking a response, just casually sharing what’s on his mind. You're not complaining. This is better than having to study all those lectures again and again.

© lilipens

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Cauldron of the Reborn: Escape from Black Castle

a fanwritten Halloween event

summary: when Malleus receives an invite from a distant relative to a historic castle in Briar Valley, he can't refuse characters: malleus, lilia, sebek, silver, vil, rook, epel, jamil, kalim additional info: reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

well... by popular demand, here's more of this! I may rework the first one in the future idk. and add a prologue. coughs

prologue / chapter one / chapter two

taglist: @whatever-fanfics @chloemari-e @frog-fans-unite @sugar-sprinkles

Diasomnia Lounge - Day

"Are you sure about this?"

Lilia pats Silver's head and floats over to Malleus, taking steps over the air like he would on solid ground.

"If I may remind you, I looked after the young prince long before you two were around. One weekend is but the blink of an eye!" the elder fae says. "Someone needs to stay behind and oversee the dorm's Halloween preparations, anyhow."

Sebek shifts uncomfortably. Silver sighs.

"...You're right. I just... I have a bad feeling about this,"

Lilia grins, his fangs pressing into his lower lip. "Khee hee. How chivalrous of you, Silver. But I assure you, with both myself and Malleus, there's little that could stand against us... should the occasion arise. You know that."

Another sigh. "...I do. I just suppose I would feel better if it wasn't only the two of you,"

"He makes a point," Malleus says, closing a suitcase. "The invitation did specify I may bring along an entourage of my choosing."

"That's not really what I-"

"Now there's an idea!" Lilia chimes. "A weekend getaway with friends. Malleus, is there anyone you'd like to bring along?"

Malleus holds his chin between his fingers and thinks.

Then, he smiles.

Ramshackle - Day

"Me?"

"Us?" Grim says, giving Malleus an unamused look, paws on his hips.

Malleus nods, a proud smile on him. Lilia stands behind him, leafing through an ancient leatherbound book as if it were a travel guide.

"Yes. I am permitted to invite any guest of my choosing, and I choose you," Malleus says.

"And, in return, you may invite any of your own friends."

You think for a moment, standing in Ramshackle's door, Grim tugging on your sleeve and whining for breakfast.

"...What do you think?" you ask the direbeast at your feet.

He sighs. "Will there be food?"

"The invitation does specify good food, yes. I imagine there will be a banquet waiting for us upon our arrival," Lilia chimes in.

Grim's pout turns into a grin, his tune changing completely. "Why didn't 'ya say so? We're in,"

Malleus beams as you scoop Grim up in your arms. But who else to invite...?

Heartslabyul Lounge - Day

"Nah, we're on Halloween duty. Housewarden's orders,"

Ace smacks Deuce upside the head and whispers loudly in his ear: "Dude! They didn't need to know that!"

You look between the two of them as they bicker. Trey passes behind them, carrying a stack of dirty dishes. He smiles.

"Sorry, Prefect, but Deuce is right. They royally failed Trein's last exam and Riddle is keeping them on dish duty as punishment. And speaking of-"

He dumps the dishes in Ace's arms, the weight of the stack nearly toppling him over.

"-And there are more in the kitchen."

Savanaclaw Lounge

Jack scratches the side of his head. "I'd, uh... I'd love to, but Leona's got us all doing extra Spelldrive practice, so..."

"Bring us back some souvenirs and food, will ya?" Ruggie calls from behind you.

Ignihyde Hall

"A Halloween trip? How exciting!" Ortho chimes. "The search I just performed shows only thirty five results for a remote county of Briar Valley- this may be an excellent exercise in data gathering!"

You and Grim exchange smiles.

"So you'll come?" the direbeast says.

"Sure!

...If Idy comes!"

Both of your grins immediately fall. Before any of you can get another word in, Idia's voice comes from within the depths of the room behind you.

"Uh- what? Nuh-uh. No way. No internet for a weekend? No way,"

Ortho gives you both a sympathetic look. "Sorry, guys. Maybe next time,"

Pomefiore Lounge

Epel looks between the two of you, his hands on his hips and his eyelids lowered.

"Busy?" he repeats the word dryly. "Busy."

You shrug. "Everyone's busy. It is Halloween weekend,"

"And it might not've occurred to 'ya that they're not so busy as much as they don't wanna go to a remote, secluded part 'a Briar Valley with Malleus Draconia?"

You and Grim share a look. Oh.

"Well..." you look back at Epel. "Do you wanna come?"

"What kinda question is that?!"

You feel something gently brush against your side, and then a cool, collected voice.

"Excuse m- oh, Prefect. What are you doing here?" Jamil asks, breezing into the room.

"We were just 'talkin," Epel mutters. "You-"

"Kalim left his wallet here yesterday," Jamil sighs. "He's lucky it was this dorm. Does Vil keep a place for lost items?"

"Just down there,"

"Thank you," he says, and disappears down the hall.

You turn back to Epel. "Are you sure you don't want to come? I'm allowed to bring anyone I want."

He shakes his head. "Even if I wanted to, Vil would never allow me to go unchaperoned,"

"Unchaperoned?" a voice says from behind you.

Both you and Epel jump, and Grim skitters away in surprise. Lilia's light laughter follows, and he rests an elbow on Epel's shoulder.

"Khee hee. My apologies, I couldn't help myself. Now what's this about Schoenheit thinking you'd be "unchaperoned"?"

Epel huffs, still flustered from the surprise, and Grim pathetically crawls back to you, his fur bristled.

"I just don't think he'd be keen on letting me off on vacation for a weekend with no one 'ta look after me,"

"Did the Prefect not specify that I will be "chaperoning" this trip?"

"They did," he puts his hands back on his hips. "Vil wouldn't trust 'ya with watching a sack 'a flour for a weekend."

"I don't blame him," Jamil says, returning with a wallet in hand.

"Khee hee. How cruel. I'll have you know I'm an excellent babysitter,"

You look between the three as they go back and forth. This is getting you nowhere.

Epel crosses his arms. "What's the deal with this place, anyway?"

"The deal?" Lilia repeats, hands on his hips. "Is the promise of a weekend at an ancient castle with no internet, electricity, running water, or heat not exciting enough for you?"

Epel stares blankly.

"...Khee hee. Fair enough. The deal, my dear underclassmen, is that this castle is related to a popular children's bedtime story from Briar Valley, one of the only to feature magicless human heroes."

You turn to look at him, your own interest suddenly piqued. "What?"

Lilia looks back at you with a fanged grin, and then he makes himself comfortable on one of the fancy couches in the lounge.

"Gather round, gather round, children. This is an old story, an ancient story, which predates the Thorn Fairy herself by hundreds of years...

Long, long ago, in the land of Cymur, now a small county in Briar Valley, there was a king. He was a distant relative of the Thorn Fairy, but you wouldn't have known- he was greedy and cruel, and sought to conquer the land with an army of the undead. His reign was ended, however, by three unlikely heroes: a farmhand who became a great warrior, a scullery maid who became a powerful mage, and an unlucky minstrel who became a beloved poet. And their fuzzy, hungry direbeast companion, of course,"

A silence follows. Though not one of you would have admitted it, you had all become rather captivated by the story. Everyone waits for Lilia to continue. He hums and picks at his black nail polish.

"...Well?" Jamil finally speaks, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Well what?"

"Whaddya mean well, what?" Epel says. "You aren't gonna tell us the rest? How did the farmhand become a warrior?"

"And how does a scullery maid become a powerful mage?" Jamil follows.

"And whaddabout the direbeast?" Grim tugs at Lilia's loose sleeve. "I bet he saved the day, didn't he?"

Lilia's lips quirk into a smile, and he crosses his legs.

"Hmm... it appears I can't recall. I suppose you'll just have to find out on the trip,"

Everyone lets out a collective groan, and Lilia giggles into the palm of his petite hand.

Epel jumps to his feet, a frown on his lips. "Vil will never let me go, 'ya know that? Never!"

"Please, no shouting in the lounge. We've discussed this," a cold voice comes from behind him.

Epel goes pale and stiff, not unlike a corpse, and Vil rolls his eyes.

"Might I inquire what this little gathering is about? I can't seem to recall giving permission to hold club meetings in my lounge."

Lilia waves him off, unflinching under his cold glare. "Oh, just chitchat about our trip,"

"Your trip?"

Epel turns to Lilia with wide eyes, shaking his head quickly, but Lilia goes on anyway.

"Why, of course! Prince Malleus has invited Epel to join him on an educational trip to Briar Valley!"

Vil raises an eyebrow. "Malleus invited him? Personally?"

You open your mouth to speak, but can't get further than a quiet "Not exac-" before Lilia confirms.

"Hmph," Vil says, shifting his weight from one hip to another. "I see. Well, if the Housewarden invited you, it would be rude to decline."

Epel lights up as if he had just won a golden ticket, and then-

"Of course, Rook will have to accompany you. I wouldn't dream of sending you without proper supervision,"

"Wh- Rook?"

"Bonsoir!" Rook chimes behind all of you, as if summoned by the mere sound of his name. You and Epel flinch. Vil rolls his eyes.

"Yes. I'm far too busy with the event preparations to go myself... I also do not want to. Rook, however-"

"It would be my honor and privilege to discover the hidden beauties of a mysterious and isolated land with my own hands and eyes!"

Epel goes whiter than the delicate lace of his blouse.

"It's settled, then. We're leaving midday tomorrow, don't be late!" Lilia says, hopping up. "And Jamil, shall we be expecting you?"

The second year scoffs, as if uninterested, though he had sat through the entire story and ensuing discussion without moving from his place against the wall.

"No. I have to see to Kalim's relatives over the weekend. I won't have a moment to spare,"

"How unfortunate," Lilia sighs. "But I suppose our little Pom Duo will please Malleus enough."

Rook cheers a faint yay! and Epel groans.

Mirror Chamber - Morning

"Ready, all?"

You hold your small suitcase close to your side, tucked neatly under your arm. Mirror travel is short but rough at such distances. "I am,"

"Oui!'

"As I'll ever be,"

"Certainly," Malleus nods. "I've been looking forward to this all night. I could hardly sleep."

Calm and collected as he is, his excitement is unmistakable- at least for Lilia, who smiles.

"Alright! We'll go as far as we can by mirror, and the rest by carriage and foot, so make sure you have water and snacks,"

"Worry not, Monsieur Curiosité!" Rook chimes. "I have brought more than enough nuts and seeds for everyone!"

Epel mutters "Vil's diet snacks" to you, and you nod.

"Khee hee, I should have expected as much from Pomefiore's vicewarden. Then we're off-"

"Wait!"

Everyone turns to the mouth of the chamber. The sound of hurried footsteps on stone comes before a panting Jamil Viper, suitcase in hand.

Lilia grins. "Changed your mind?"

Jamil answers that with a glare.

"Someone told Kalim of the trip, and he ordered me to take the weekend off. Of all the ridiculous things..."

"Khee hee. Isn't that unfortunate?"

Another glare. "At least his family's security will be around. I only worry for the state of the dorm after he hosts them for the weekend..."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine. Kalim's a bright boy!" Lilia says. Malleus gives him an odd look, but doesn't comment.

"Now that we're all accounted for- shall we?"

[chris-prank]

Hi, sorry if this is awkward but I’ve never sent an ask before 😭

I really like your series with Jacce, and I was wondering if you could write something (nsfw) with him receiving. Maybe some nipple play or pegging? Writhing around on the floor after writing this

Your ask wasn’t awkward at all don’t worry 💪🏻

And I can totally write about Jacce being on the receiving end (I’m keeping the nipple play for his main story, you guys will see what I mean later😏)

CW: NSFW, top reader, dom reader, sub yandere and teasing

It’s gender neutral so you can imagine that reader as a biological dick or a strap on.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

You were convinced you never saw Jacce trembling with this much excitement before, and that was saying a lot as he was always a horny mess when it came to you. You figured that it was because the roles were different this time around. You were in fact the one topping, something that you two wanted for a long time, but both parties had been too awkward to bring it up first. It all boiled down to Jacce intimidating size. You feared rejection at the suggestion of dicking him down, thinking he wouldn’t want to be in such a vulnerable position.

But there he was, laid out before you like a five star Michelin dish, with oil covering his erected shaft and all the way down to his hole. The latter was perfectly exposed to your eyes since Jacce had his legs spread out on each side, shuddering in anticipation every two seconds. You were perfectly lined up between them, your tip brushing against his asshole occasionally, and every time it did, you could hear the faintest whines coming from him. Seeing Jacce so eager for you and your cock made you want to turn him into a complete mess, as mean as it sounded.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you wanted this sooner?” You punctuated your question by finally sliding it in.

At the sudden feeling of his muscle widening, Jacce’s back lifted off the bed in a beautiful arch. “Haah! I-I just didn’t think you… Mmf... you would want to…”

“And why is that?”

“Be-Because… Ngff… I’m tall and-and hairy—” Seeing tears forming in the corner of his eyes you cupped his cheek, cutting him short in his self-deprecation.

“Don’t worry, it's even better that you’re big and hairy.” You leaned down to kiss the tears away, while moving your hips at a leisure pace, “because it’s more satisfying to turn you into a stupid slut that way.”

Jacce moaned at the mix of insults and compliments, while wrapping his legs around your hips to keep you close, pushing your shaft deeper into him as a result. You cooed some more reassuring words into his ear right until your pelvis was flush against him. Glancing down between your two bodies, you grinned.

“You greedy little thing.”

You leaned back again, wanting to have his whole body and face in your field of view. It made the man weakly reach for you with a small frown, so you gratefully took his hand, intertwining your fingers. With your free hand, you petted up his happy trail in a repetitive motion, just like someone would do to a pet they found irresistible. It was humorous how the tip of his cock would reach your arm and graze it subtly. That’s when your fingers meet a small bump on his stomach. Your brain didn’t even have the time to register what it was that Jacce cried out an ear scratching moan, his eyes rolling back in his skull.

You were stunned for a good moment, but soon you decided to try out a theory, pulling your hips back, while keeping your palm on his lower stomach, you met with his ass once again with a swift thrust. Just like you suspected, every time you pulled out of him the small bump would disappear then reappear once you were back inside, and that brought wicked ideas to your mind. As you now grinded against him, you applied more pressure onto his stomach. The effects were immediate, Jacce’s crossed legs squeezing you tighter and his fingers clenching onto your knuckles. During your administration, you could feel subtle shudders that coursed all over his body as well, including his dick, the tip of it smearing precum onto your forearm. It’s as if you had touched the right button in his brain, making it impossible for him to say anything except pathetic “Ah Ah” and muffled whimpers.

“Feel that puppy? That’s me all the way up there.” You rubbed your palm against it as you spoke, “doesn’t it feel weirdly good in your tummy?”

The mess under you opened his mouth agape in a silent scream, strings of saliva connecting his top and bottom lips. It was indeed an unusual sensation that made it impossible for him to define where the pleasure and the discontent started or ended. Jacce’s mind was also too engulfed in pleasure at the moment to have any sense of self-control or dignity, his tongue lolling out of his mouth without a care of what he might look like. But despite his dazed state, his gaze was still drilled on you at the best of his effort and his grip on your hand stayed strong.

You hoped you could burn this image into your retina forever.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Sorry if it took me some time to answer! I wasn’t satisfied with the first draft and completely started over 😅

[miamc]

The Impact of Season 4 on the GA

before season 4, i had never heard of byler. i was certain will was gay and i knew he and mike had a noticeably close relationship, but i had simply not thought of them as a potential couple. in fact if you had suggested the idea to me back then, i probably would have laughed. so then why was season 4 so different? why is this the season that convinced me and many others that mike and will getting together is the only satisfactory conclusion for these characters?

it’s important to note that while i wasn’t a byler shipper, i also wasn’t a mileven shipper. i was completely neutral and did not think about mike and eleven’s relationship too much as i watched the show. however, i remember feeling confused and frustrated. i asked myself why their relationship felt so… weird? rushed? unconvincing? i don’t know. but i wasn’t too invested in it. i mostly blamed it on bad writing. why was the main relationship of the show so blah when all the other relationships were great? then season 4 came out and i was completely and utterly convinced that mike and will were going to end up together. my mind was never in “shipping mode”, not for anyone, and yet, after season 4, i couldn’t unsee it.

for all the “anti-bylers” out there, have you considered that this was the intention? for season 4 to recontextualize mike and wills relationship? many people say that byler would be a “twist” in season 5. and okay sure, yeah. a convincing twist needs to have evidence planted throughout the story prior to the reveal, which byler would have more than enough of. but i would argue that season 4 already had a “twist” like this.

will was not confirmed to be in love with mike before season 4. many people did not suspect this at all and yet, when it was revealed in season 4, was anyone surprised? season 4 forced the audience to view mike and wills previous interactions through a new lens, one where will is in love with mike. and suddenly it all made sense. so what i’m asking is, why do some people think that this won’t happen again in season 5? if it is revealed that mike is in love with will, it certainly won’t feel “out of nowhere” just like how will being in love with mike didn’t feel “out of nowhere”. all the signs are there. you just have to see.

i do not approach this as a “shipper”. i approach this as someone who loves to analyze film, tv, literature, and storytelling. i would consider myself well versed in the mechanics of storytelling tropes and cliches. i’m not new to the unrequited love trope in tv. and let me tell you, this is not how you write it.

[pleaktale]

Bleaky!! I'm just a girl asking for a request for our man Ekko where in episode 3 of s2 he brought you with heimerdinger and he's trying to protect you from the hexcore 'exploding' please and thank you!! 🥺👉👈 Muah 😘 take your time!!

-katy ❤️

it took a life of it's own but after I figured out the plot it went smoooooth 🤭 I'm sorry for the long wait though! I hope it's worth it Word count: 2k Warnings: death mention, swearing, time travel (?) Tags: Ekko x firelight!Reader, mention of Y/N, no description of Reader other than hair, CW alternate universes, CW death, gender neutral Reader, CW time travel (kinda), hurt/comfort Enjoy!

Maybe coming along wasn’t the best idea.

It’s what you think about when Jayce guides the group towards the hexgate core, a big room with glass floors and lights shining everywhere, a giant ball with runes and lights and intricate patterns standing in the middle of the room. It felt like you should be afraid of it, but you put on your brave mask.

Ekko insisted you should come along, saying you were his ‘right-hand’ and ‘his engineer partner’, Heimerdinger didn’t have much of a choice and brought you with them to the lab of Piltover.

At least it was a fun adventure to get there, with Heimer thinking you guys were in a secret spy mission of sorts, doing hand signs created on the spot and rolling over ducts. You and Ekko couldn’t help but chuckle at the scenes unfolding.

Once in the lab, and with Heimerdinger making the presentations, you remember to hold in a laugh at Ekko trying to appear taller when talking to Jayce, even though he was a good amount shorter than him. Nonetheless, he was still your short king. He just wouldn’t know.

Now in front of this… thing, both you and Ekko exchange glances, you could see the worry in his eyes that quickly were replaced with determination as he tugged you by the sleeve of your shirt to tag along. Closer, in preference.

“I thought this was underground,” Ekko noticed, looking around before landing eyes on Jayce. His tone started to grow stern.

“The mesh is, this is just a fell safe as we were not sure what would happen if the gates overloaded,” he explained, making you scoff at this brilliant idea.

“So it would explode on us?” You ask back, eyebrows furrowed together as, once again, Piltover proves to not care about Zaun’s safety. At all. “Pretty wise for a scholar genius.”

“These are far from the city, it wouldn’t explode on anyone,” Jayce is immediately on defensive mode, even though, deep down, he knows this wasn’t made thinking about the others. Ekko walked closer, also getting defensive at his tone at you.

“These are our utility ducts! The ones that carry our water and guide our ventilation,” this time, Ekko was the one to confront him, taking a few steps closer.

Ekko continued with his arguments, but a shift in light caught your attention, turning around to see Heimerdinger looking at something on the ground, you also took a step closer to see what he was doing.

“Heimer? What is that?” you asked, and as the professor touched it again, something clicked.

Everything turned white, there were no floors nor walls, just a completely blank space of nothing. Well, nothing except for a massive sphere of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. But it had the same patterns as the leaves of the tree.

“A… wild rune?” you ask, walking a little closer in awe, just to be held back by Ekko, his gloved hand keeping you from going further close.

Meanwhile, Jayce was right in front of it, almost completely mesmerized by it. Everyone in the room was, in a way, even Heimerdinger who also got close, but Ekko didn’t keep him from walking.

“Ekko…” you called, taking him out of some kind of trance as he shook his head lightly, looking back at you, his eyes wide and with slight confusion. “It’s alright,” he reassured you, or tried to, staring back at Jayce who seemed to be approaching even more the sphere.

“Jayce!” Ekko shouted, trying to get him to stop going further into touching that warping thing of organic patterns and fluid geometries, but his voice sounded like it was below water. He heard himself like some twisted and warped sound.

You feel a tingle in your spine, taking a few steps back as the sphere started to lash parts of itself as Jayce got closer, your hand reached for Ekko, but it felt like you were a ghost, touching on nothing and lacking any physical parts on you.

Panic starts to settle, and you’re frozen in place, Ekko watches as Jayce grabs ahold of his hammer, aiming it for the sphere who twisted and warped and angrily reacted to the environment, tendril-like shapes lashing and gushing out of the sphere.

You heard a faint sound that was twisted and too dense for your ears to fully comprehend, but you made out as Ekko trying to stop him.

Then the hammer went full force on it.

Jayce’s skin warped and twisted, creating shapes and geometries around him, something weirdly two dimensional, like a thin piece of paper that follows your eyes. You look back, a line of copies of you, endlessly repeating, constantly copying your every action. Like time ripples out of place and creates thousands and thousands of versions of the same moment in splashes of color and shapes.

A mismatched sound fills your ears, something familiar yet strange, you look back ahead, Ekko is staring at you with desperation in his eyes. You see Heimerdinger exploding in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, something akin to oil amidst water, his eyes multiplying, following the lines.

You feel out of breath, screaming for Ekko but your voice comes out like some reversed echo, warped in the chaos that’s happening in that room. You can make out a repeated “run” screamed from Ekko, who is also trying to run away from it.

He jumps in your direction, copies of him flashing around your eyes, he’s close yet far, you can’t make out the distance in this weird time space you’re locked in. You try to reach for him too, your hand doubling into a thousand others, pops of color lashing out of your skin.

Ekko makes it to you, his arms enveloping your form tightly, the first time you’ve felt weight like you’re supposed to, something unearthly heavier than it should. You both fall into some form of flooring, but it still was just a blank space, you try to make the fall easier but your head finds one of the screws in what would be the real world.

And things go from blank to black.

-

Time wraps itself around, twisting and tugging and moving in an all time high, like being tossed into some sort of infinite blender that you’ll never reach the blades. Ekko feels it on his body for a mere second, but it feels like forever.

But then it stills.

“And I…” he stops, hands holding yours, or was it you? You had a different hair, your smile seemed brighter, but still he felt unfamiliarity. He continues without even knowing he was talking.

“I think I love you,” Ekko smiles, eyes squinting from how big it is, his heart feels full, but something on the back of his mind itches. You’re almost tearing up, or was you? With a short nod, you whisper a soft ‘me too’ that almost doesn't reach his ears, your arms circling around him.

He feels full. And then it stills.

“… that day was fun, y’know?” Ekko says, eyes staring down at some flowers in a vase, above a grave. Your grave, your name beautifully displayed with carvings of fireflies and your favorite flower around it. Something’s amiss, but he can’t quite scratch that itch in the back of his mind.

“I miss you,” he whispers, feeling his eyes tear up. It felt weird, he thought he was past it on his grief. Guess not. Feeling his lungs with fresh air, Ekko leaves a shaky breath, smiling to himself despite the pain in his heart.

He feels empty. And then it stills.

“Y/N, do you accept Ekko as your spouse?” Scar says, keeping a small smile after looking towards you. Ekko swears he’d never seen you so beautiful before. Or were you? Is it you?

“I do,” you answer, smiling almost ear to ear, hands clasped together. You feel his hands get a little clammy after your reply.

“Ekko, do you accept Y/N as your spouse?” Scar continues, now looking back at Ekko, who smiles with eyes shiny from the unshed tears. You squint your eyes, waiting for his reply, your heart almost beating out of your chest despite knowing the answer.

“I do,” he replies, “absolutely do,” and then adds. He feels full seeing your smile, the way you’re also almost tearing up, despite the itch on the back of his mind. Ekko just takes you in.

He feels complete. And then it stills.

Over and over and over and over.

“Y/N! Come out! We’ll miss the opening!” Ekko calls, he feels younger, he is younger, he’s still a kid. You’re a kid too. You’re running to him, hair bouncing as you halt almost atop of him. Your hands on his arm, shaking him.

“C’mon! We can’t miss it!” You sound so happy, so full of life. Or were you?

“Stop shaking me and let’s go!” Ekko holds your wrist, running the two of you towards the bridge to watch the opening of the shops. Benzo tried to call you two to wait, but he was a bit late. Benzo. Another itch he can’t scratch.

Time stills once again.

“Hey, don’t run on the stairs!”

Your voice echoes through the tree house, watching closely on your kid. His kid too. Our kid. Ekko smiles to himself, taking his cup of coffee from the pot. “It’s the nerves, firefly, first day of school,” he says to you, sipping on his mug.

“I know! But safety-”

“-always comes first.” He continues your phrase, making you smile in amusement and annoyance. He feels his chest warm up with a chuckle.

“C’mon, loosen up a little, will you?” His arm circles your waist, pulling you closer while his mug with hot coffee is kept far from your body.

The way you roll your eyes and lean on him makes it all worth it. But that damn itch. This weird feeling.

Time doesn’t stop this time, though.

BOOM!

A groan of pain escapes his lips, his arms tightly holding onto you. His body hit something physical for once, the weird feeling was gone, the memories still there.

Despite himself, Ekko just lays there for a moment, half scared of what he’d encounter by opening his eyes. When the courage comes, he slowly shifts, feeling you first, leaning onto his elbows to get himself up. His eyes are greeted by your knocked out form, but you’re still breathing peacefully. Almost like you’re asleep.

“Hey,” he calls quietly, gently shaking you, your eyes fluttering up brings relief to his heart.

You’re still drowsy, a stinging pain on the back of your head. Sitting up, Ekko is still checking up on you, his hand gently touching your elbow. “What happened?” you ask, feeling like you’ve slept for way too long.

“I.. I’m not sure,” he replies, looking around and seeing Heimendinger on the floor and no trace of Jayce. The hexcore was dimmed, with no power coming from it. He turns back at you, seeing you scratch the back of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle and low. Unlikely so.

“Yeah, I think I just hit my head when that thing.. exploded, I guess.” Sighing, you stop for a moment, sitting up on the floor with him. “Are you?”

Your question pulls him from the memories he’s still drowning himself into. He couldn’t quite tell what that was; alternate universes? Another kind of dream? Whole different dimensions? Daydream? Had he hit his head too? But it felt too real, your touch was too real, the smells were too real, the warmth of the sun on his skin were too real. But that itch on the back of his mind was also too real.

One thing he knew was that you were the constant on his equation. Despite the changes, you were his equivalent.

Taking your hand in his, fingers intertwining. A sigh leaves his lips, eyes briefly closing before looking back up to your own. A smile of relief on his face.

“I am.”

Ekko feels full. And time is back to the right place, with you.

THANK YOU FOR READINGGG <33 ngl I kinda went crazy with this one, writing the wraps of time was fun!!! ALSO THANK YOUUU @the-kr8tor for all the yap sessions about this <3

© pleaktale

[gingernut1314]

As Happy As A Cat In The Sun

Summary: You are tasked in waking Luffy up from his nap.

Content: gender-neutral reader, Kissing Luffy, Luffy kissing reader, Luffy being a love bug as usual, set on the Thousand Sunny

Word Count: 580+

A/N: I know I just wrote something for Luffy but I really can't seem to get enough omggggggggg. I hope you all enjoy!!

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You found Luffy sprawled out on his back in the grassy deck of the Sunny. He’d found the perfect spot, one with lots of sun and a clear view of the picturesque sky you all sailed under.

Not that he was seeing the sky, your captain having found that warm spot in the sun for a nice nap. 

You stood just before his head, his snoring all the more bone shaking from this close. 

Not that you minded. You thought it was cute. How his lips hung open, a little bit of drool running from the corner of it. 

Thought his sleep-soft face was even cuter. How he seemed so so happy in this state. As happy as a cat in the sun.

The sight almost had you curling up into his side and joining him in his midday nap, but you had been sent to do the complete opposite of that. 

With a little reluctance, you knelt down before his head of wild hair, his straw hat having been knocked off and now tucked snugly beneath it. 

“Captain.” You whispered, poking a finger into his squishy cheek.

Luffy’s snoring halted. 

His sleep-soft face twitched. 

Eyelids clenched and--

Luffy gave another loud snore as if he hadn’t stopped. 

You couldn't help the laugh that spilled from your lips. 

“Get him awake now before I take over,” Nami shouted at you as she marched past, heading towards the helm.

You knew Nami’s takeover would include a nasty tongue-lashing and a sharp whack to the top of the head, so you hastened your task. 

“Luffy.” You spoke louder now, leaning down closer to his face. You brushed some of his hair from his forehead, making space for your lips to place a gentle kiss there. “Hey--wake up.” You placed another kiss to his temple. Then to the other. “We’re going to dock soon. Wake up.” 

Luffy mumbled something inaudible, brows furrowing and--

He fell quiet. His snoring seemed to have ceased, meaning you were closer to fulfilling your task.

You continued to litter his face with sweet kisses, finding you enjoyed kissing those rounded, sun-warmed cheeks of his the most. 

You had just placed a kiss on the scar under his left eye when a pair of hands grabbed hold of either side of your face. A wide grin pulled at Luffy’s lips, a giggle spilling from between them. 

“Do it again.” He laughed, eyes snapping open to take in your face. You did as he asked, placing a smacking kiss on his scar. “Again.” 

“Luffy--Nami said you need to get--”

“Pleaseeeeee.” Luffy begged, pulling your face closer. “Just one more.” You gave a small sigh.

“Just one more.” His grin pulled wider as he nodded up at you. You kissed his scar once more, letting your lips linger there for a long moment. The whole while Luffy giggled and wiggled beneath you in his joy. 

You pulled away with an overdramatic Mmmaw! sound, smiling brightly down at your captain. 

“Okay, you gotta get up now.” Luffy groaned, but let you go. Before you had even got a foot beneath you, Luffy was springing upright and popping a kiss on your cheek. A small kiss he attacked you with once you had stood fully, the kiss landing on your other cheek. Luffy followed you towards Nami, bouncing around you like some giggling land snark circling its prey, lunging forward here and there to keep gifting you kisses. Kisses that were being to make you feel like that happy, sun-loving cat. 

More Like This: X's And O's {Luffy x gn!reader}

[chocolatepot]

I realized that the best example to make my point is the Ladies of Llangollen, Eleanor Butler and Sarah Ponsonby.

The Ladies were a pair of female friends who ran away together in 1778, dressed in men's clothes; they were caught and separated, but made another escape attempt that was more successful, and their families reluctantly allowed them to go their own way. Minor celebrities, their neighbors just knew them as a pair of eccentric ladies who kept house together while people in the know came from far away to visit them.

They habitually wore masculine-styled riding habits. They were buried in the same grave (along with the servant who helped them elope, Mary Caryll). Butler left a diary that said nothing about them having sex. Some in the period suggested they were lesbians and they reportedly were shocked. This was an era where men and women had same-sex "romantic friendships" that were more effusive than what we'd consider platonic today. Anne Lister, Definite Lesbian*, visited them.

All of these data points can be interpreted in two ways, one implying they're queer and one taking it for granted that they weren't.

Riding habits: They're the closest women could get to men's or gender-neutral clothing in the Georgian era / They're practical and hard-wearing

Same grave: They were in love and wanted to be buried like spouses / They were best friends and didn't want to be separated

Diary: Butler didn't want to provide proof of what would have been considered wrongdoing to anyone who found her notes / Butler just didn't have any romance or sex to record

Shocked: They worried about exposure and had to pretend to be horrified at the thought / They genuinely were not behaving as anything except platonic friends and were genuinely shocked

Effusive: Many romantic friendships were in fact what we'd call queer today, acceptable to the world as non-sexual homoromantic relationships / Romantic friendships were between straight friends, like it says on the tin

Anne Lister: Lister recognized a kinship with these women and wanted to be part of their network or validate her sexuality through their acceptance or something / Lister was imposing her own take on their relationship or just admired them as independent women

Neither option is more objectively true. The first interpretations are simply using a different lens than the second, one that presumes that the Ladies being queer is a possibility.

Our culture generally teaches us that straight is the default, that everyone is far and away more likely to be straight than anything else, so it's not only safe, but the most sensible thing to do to choose an interpretive lens that doesn't bother engaging with the possibility of queerness. With this assumption in place, any reading of historical evidence (visual or textual) that doesn't exhaust all possible straight readings before moving on to a queer one is suspect as not having scholarly rigor. (It's also, of course, seen as much worse to consider someone queer if they would call themselves straight than to do the reverse, in general.)

People on the street do this and historians who don't have any background with queer theory do it too. That doesn't make it the only correct way to talk about the potential queerness of historical figures, and in fact more historians are developing the ability to balance potential queer readings with others!

Complete rigidity about this these days is, in fact, generally a sign that someone has very little interaction with real, contemporary historical scholarship. The study of history is not an attempt to determine all the facts of the past, but an attempt to interpret them in many different ways in order to illuminate what might otherwise be ignored.

If you want to read more about the Ladies of Llangollen, how they've been perceived, and how good historians deal with the ambiguity of queer readings of history, I would recommend “Extraordinary Female Affection”: The Ladies of Llangollen and the Endurance of Queer Community by Fiona Brideoake, which appears to be open access.

*Anne Lister, I should mention, has only been considered a Definite Lesbian herself since the translation of the sexually explicit parts of her diaries from code, because We Must Always Presume Straightness even if a historical woman behaves highly unconventionally for a straight woman of her time. Actually, they were decoded in the early 20thc by a Lister descendant and literally hidden again because, if only 100% serious proof allows a queer interpretation of someone's actions, lacking that proof means that nobody will be able to seriously speculate without getting called a loser writing fanfiction.

[yawujin]

v3 girls x reader during a sleepover

type | headcanons , lighthearted , gender neutral reader , fluff

author's note* noticed this completed in my drafts, so why not post it? 🤍 might be going back into my dangan hyperfixation...who knows. to my followers who like dgr, expect to be fed soon! :3c

kaede akamatsu ♡

asked if you wanted to wear matching pajamas and you agreed

you were actually happy that you did

she thinks you two look cute

she's so considerate towards you throughout the night

she picked out the snacks she knew you'd like

she let you pick what movies you would binge on and what music you two would listen to

she even listened when you shared some scary stories (although she knew she'd be freaked out by the time you were finished telling them)

"nighty night (Y/N)." she whispers out to you before she turns the lights off

miu iruma ♡

she teased you about your choice of pajamas, which were, compared to hers, so much more conservative

when you did it back however she whined about it

"why don't you come and warm me up in bed then huh?"

you threw a pillow at her head

she put on some movie that you two were really not paying any attention to

instead she began to show things to you on her phone quickly scrolling past every questionable picture in her camera roll

"you feeling tired?" "me neither"

suddenly gets an idea for an invention and forces you out of bed. "come on, you're going to help me!"

miu pls it's like 2 AM

maki harukawa ♡

tried her best to accomodate you

constantly asking if you need anything such as more pillows, another blanket, more food, drink and more

you tell her that she's sweet, but you're fine, really!

tells you that you can pick any movie you want as long as it isn't a movie about spies or assassins

you're fine with that and pick something cute (healing maki's inner child one step at a time)

she ends up drifting off to sleep near the end of it though

you didn't mind it

she looked really cute cuddled up against you

kirumi tojo ♡

like maki, she would accomodate you in any way she could

kirumi there's so many pillows and blankets we could literally make a fort

you would thank her ofc

she made a charcuterie that includes cheese, grapes and nuts

you're impressed and so very grateful towards her

she would ask you if everything is to your satisfaction

"kirumi, i feel like i'm in a damn five star hotel"

also, you reminded her that this is her downtime too

you insisted that she cuddle underneath the blankets with you and watch a few videos before you two slept

she agreed but made you promise you'd let her wake up earlier so you two can have an amazing breakfast

angie yonaga ♡

insists on doing face masks before bedtime

she also wants to brush your hair

"angie, this is your sleepover too. why do you want to pamper me so much?"

she tells you that atua told her to extra hospitable towards guests who intend to stay overnight

before bed, angie had a routine of meditating, then stretching

she asked if you would like to join her! she wouldn't let you refuse

but you didn't regret it bc it totally relaxed you

"may god watch over and protect you while you sleep." she says

then it's lights out

tenko chabashira ♡

she insisted you came over a bit earlier so you two could spar together

"if we're going to get good sleep, we need to tire ourselves out!"

she's so full of energy

but not for long

she always pushes herself to the limit

you suggest that you both shower before bedtime

"tomorrow...too tired right now..." she flops on top of her bed

she's the type to always fall asleep first at a sleepover (besides himiko)

although you didn't do too many stereotypical sleepover things together

you still had a good time

you thanked her over breakfast the next morning

himiko yumeno ♡

she puts on a magic show

she tells you that watching it will put a spell on you to make you fall asleep faster

but it was all so entertaining

you watched it through and by the end of it

himiko was the sleepy one

"hey (Y/N), can i ask a favor? ...can you make me some warm milk?"

the night ended with the two of you settling down for sleep while sipping cups of warm milk

tsumugi shirogane ♡

as expected of an ultimate cosplayer

she puts on a fashion show

which is really just a display of all of her cosplays but you enjoy it anyway

she asks you to guess which cosplay is which and you actually get some correctly

it's nice to see her enjoying her talent

she gets you to watch a few episodes from a show that has her favorite character in it

while it plays on screen, tsumugi can't help but talk over the dialogue and share every fun fact she knows about the show

"sorry if i'm boring you..." she stops for a moment and sighs

not at all! you encourage her to tell you more until she grows tired

and half an hour later, she lets out a big yawn. "thanks for listening, (Y/N)"

she passes out

the night ends with you knowing a little bit more about tsumugi's favorite media

[tkdb-hell]

#17 - Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

@everythiinggoes here's 17 :)

The cool mist of Hotarubi’s grounds hung in the air, shrouding everything in a quiet, magical haze. You and Haku sat together in the reception room, the delicate scent of green tea lingering between you. The soft hum of cicadas outside filled the silence, but all you could focus on was him.

Haku leaned back against the wall, his green and yellow eyes glinting mischievously as he smiled at you. “You’ve been staring at me for a while, you know,” he teased, his voice a lazy drawl.

“I wasn’t staring,” you countered, though your cheeks betrayed you with their warmth.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” He tilted his head, letting his green hair fall slightly over his face. “Well, if you’re gonna keep staring, I might as well give you something to look at.”

You rolled your eyes, but the way he stretched, exposing a sliver of his toned stomach beneath his shirt, made your breath hitch. Haku was always effortlessly attractive, the kind of person who didn’t have to try but still managed to steal your attention. And he knew it.

“Come here,” you murmured, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. He didn’t resist, a smirk playing on his lips as you closed the distance between you.

Your lips met, soft and slow at first, but it wasn’t long before the kiss deepened. Haku’s hand found the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. It was intoxicating, the warmth of him, the way he kissed you with just the right amount of teasing and passion.

But you had a plan to catch him off guard.

Sliding your hands beneath the hem of his shirt, you pressed your palms against his bare skin. His warmth radiated beneath your fingertips, and the sensation of his firm muscles tensing beneath your touch made your pulse quicken.

Haku broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, his eyes wide with surprise. “What the—” he started, but his words caught in his throat as your hands roamed further up his back, your fingers brushing along the curve of his shoulder blades.

“Too much?” you teased, your voice laced with a playful challenge.

His cheeks were flushed, his usual laid-back composure completely shattered. “Are you trying to kill me?” he muttered, but the shaky exhale that followed betrayed just how much he enjoyed it. His hands gripped your waist, and his gaze softened, his smirk returning. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“You like it,” you shot back, letting your hands wander a little more, savoring the way his body responded to your touch.

“I really do,” he admitted, his voice low, almost a whisper. Haku leaned back in, his lips brushing yours before pulling you into another kiss, hungrier this time, as if to remind you that two could play this game.

The mist outside thickened, cocooning the two of you in your little world. And for the first time in a long while, Haku wasn’t worried about his duties, his past, or even the spirits he could see. There was only you, and the way your warm hands had stolen his breath—and his heart.

[corzydoie]

Plain Sight: Pt. 2 - Cracking Silence

Author's Note: I said I was going to publish this in the same week as part one but a bunch of huge plans started coming at me at once. BUT HERE IT FINALLY IS! You can probably tell that I am a former K-Pop stan by the way I write the media and fans in this story.

Summary: Amid growing scrutiny from the public, Fernando and Y/n navigate the challenges of being apart and maintaining a deeply private relationship while under the curious eyes of an ever looming public presence.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning(s): A Few of the Drivers Are (Jokingly) Rude, Mentions of Stalking, Overbearing Journalists, Kinda Shit but Hopefully Still Enjoyable!

Don't Forget to Interact and Follow! Hope You Enjoy!

The next evening, the drivers gathered around the private dining area of a local restaurant. The atmosphere was casual, a little less formal than usual, as they all relaxed after a busy weekend. The clink of silverware and laughter mixed with the soft hum of conversation, but something felt different.

Carlos, ever the chatterbox, leaned back in his chair, poking fun at Lando for yet another lost bet during a game they’d played earlier and slightly tipsy from the wine he’d been nursing. “You know, it’s funny,” he began, a sly grin on his face, “Fernando is even more secretive now. I saw his partner last night, at the sustainability event. Can’t say I saw that coming.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the table fell into a stunned silence. They all turned their attention to the eldest driver as he slowly lifted his gaze from his phone–a faint smile dropping from his features.

Lando, who was still nursing his drink, nearly spat it out. “What do you mean, his partner? You’re saying he’s got someone on the side?” he asked, his eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets.

Carlos froze, realizing what he’d just done. He shot a panicked glance at Fernando, whose eyes were narrowed as he carefully pocketed his phone.

“No, no,” Carlos quickly corrected, “I didn’t mean it like that. He–he’s been seeing someone, for a while now. Didn’t want to say anything, but I saw her last night at the event. She was there.” Despite Carlos’ attempt at a cover, Fernando still seemed annoyed at the information he let slip past his lips.

Max, leaning forward, raised an eyebrow. “Someone? Seriously? That’s news.” He looked at Fernando, whose face had gone completely neutral. “Guess that explains a lot. I have noticed your recent attachment to your phone,” Max added, more to himself than anyone else.

“And how he seems to be sneaking back into his driver room,” Lance finally spoke. “Or out of the paddock like he’s in a rush to go home,” Ocon built off, allowing everyone else to overlap their observations of Fernando’s strange behavior.

“Is she nice?” Lewis intervened, the question coming out more genuine than prying. “I haven’t heard you mention anyone, mate.”

Fernando let out a small sigh, trying to manage the tension in the air. He wasn’t expecting the conversation to veer into this territory so quickly. “It’s complicated,” he muttered, looking down at his plate. “We’re still figuring things out.”

The table fell quiet, and the younger drivers began to whisper among themselves in their corner, with Lando and Yuki exchanging looks.

“No way,” Lando said, half-laughing. “Fernando Alonso has a girlfriend? That’s rich. How old is she though? Like, a lot younger, I’m guessing?”

Fernando glanced up, locking eyes with Lando. His tone became more serious, though it held no real anger. “It’s not like that, Lando. But I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourselves. It’s private.”

Liam, a bit used to getting on Fernando’s nerves, smirked. “She’s young, huh? I bet she’s younger than all of us if he’s trying to keep it a secret. You old man,” he teased, nudging Lando.

Lando snorted. “She probably doesn’t even know who he is outside the car.”

At that, the table erupted into laughter, but Fernando remained stoic. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes, not about this, not about her. But there was little he could do to stop it now.

Max, sensing the tension, tried to redirect the conversation. “You know, if this is all that’s going on, you’ve got to tell us, mate. We’re your friends. But I get it. You’re keeping it lowkey.”

George nodded in agreement. “And who knows, maybe she’s just someone you met recently. There’s no harm in keeping things private. But if she’s with Fernando, it’s probably ‘cause she wants to be. I’d say he’s just lucky” he directed toward the rowdy youngsters.

The rest of the evening went on in a blur, with Fernando answering more questions about his change in behavior than he would’ve liked. He wasn’t lying when he said things were complicated. Y/n wasn’t just someone he met last week or a fleeting romance–it was deeper than that. But for now, it had to stay between the drivers.

-

The next few days were a whirlwind of media attention. Fernando had noticed the shift–how the journalists seemed more interested in his personal life than usual. Questions he could dodge easily were now piercing through, like arrows aimed straight at him. It started with casual mentions, but the reporters quickly latched onto the idea of something changing, something new, and they were persistent.

“Fernando, you’ve been spotted at a cafe recently, looking quite cozy with a woman,” one reporter asked him during a press conference. “Who is she? Is there a special someone in your life?”

He deflected the question with practiced ease. “There’s nothing to say about my personal life,” he replied, though it sounded rehearsed. “I’m here to talk about racing, not who I spend my time with.”

Another journalist, sensing his discomfort, pressed further. “We’ve seen a shift in your behavior lately. Any chance you’re keeping something from the public?”

Fernando clenched his jaw but held his ground. “I’m here for F1. Let’s talk about the race, alright?”

But the damage was done. The rumors were already spreading like wildfire. Fans, always quick to dissect every detail, caught onto the subtle shifts in Fernando’s behavior. They noticed the way he would look at his phone more frequently, and the small smile he had when his mind wandered. It wasn’t long before a popular F1 fan account posted photos of Fernando and Y/n from the cafe date.

Luckily, the photos were taken just after she turned to face her boyfriend, her face just out of  sight. Unluckily, each photo contained a hand hold, arm rub, or loving look from Fernando–a relationship beyond professional clearly evident.

The pictures spread and were quickly shared among fan pages and forums, where speculations ran wild. A few hours later, gossip about the mysterious woman who’d stolen Fernando Alonso’s heart was everywhere.

Yet, neither Fernando nor Y/n said a word. They’d agreed–no official statements, not yet. Y/n was busy working, and Fernando was away at another race, just trying to keep his mind focused. They needed time to process the growing attention and decide how they wanted to navigate it.

But silence only made the media more desperate. Almost every question from the public was about the rumors, each more insistent than the last. They asked about the woman in the photos, about their relationship, about everything Fernando wanted to keep hidden.

At the next race, Y/n and Fernando were apart, working in different corners of the world. But Fernando’s mood was different. There was a constant edge to his focus, the kind he hadn’t felt before. He was aware. Now more than ever, of the eyes on him. He couldn’t get lost in the rhythm of the race as easily. There was a new weight on his shoulders.

Meanwhile, the fan page continued to track every moment. From cafe dates to casual outings, old or new, they posted pictures and shared clips–anything that seemed like a hint. Fernando could tell things were starting to escalate, and not in the way he wanted.

Y/n, seeing the constant updates, felt the pressure too. It wasn’t just the media anymore–she began to notice subtle things: a car parked outside her apartment one day, a flash of someone’s camera catching them in the distance when they were out. Her discomfort grew.

“What are we going to do?” she asked Fernando during one of their late-night calls.

“We’re going to stay quiet. For now, that’s the best we can do,” Fernando said, though his voice was tight with frustration. “We’ll address it when we’re ready.”

But the longer they stayed silent, the more the rumors thrived. The fans were relentless. The journalists were relentless, and Fernando could feel himself slowly unraveling under the pressure.

As the weeks dragged on, Fernando found himself getting more withdrawn and more cautious. He became hyper-aware of every glance, every whispered conversation. It wasn’t just the media now–it was the feeling of being watched that made him uneasy. He had to keep up the facade and pretend he was fine, but it was getting harder.

Then, one day, Y/n called.

-

The sun dipped low over the city skyline, casting long shadows along the pavement as Y/n pulled her scarf tighter around her head. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, the most distinct feature on her face. She had grown used to this routine–blending into the crowd as she slipped out for groceries or a walk along the quieter parts of town, always careful, always watching.

It started subtly. A flicker of movement in the corner of her vision, a familiar silhouette that didn’t seem to fade. She chalked it up to paranoia at first, unable to see why someone would want to spend their time following her. But as the weeks stretched and Fernando remained tied up in back-to-back races, the unease settled in her bones.

Her social media presence remained carefully curated, a private Instagram and a TikTok containing little to no identifying info. Environmental campaigns, soft glimpses of her life–nothing too personal. Never anything that revealed too much. But tonight, as she sat curled on the couch scrolling absentmindedly, her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest.

There it was. A post of her face.

It wasn’t from a major outlet, nor a tabloid. It came from the fan account, one that had gained traction in recent weeks for “spotting” Fernando’s whereabouts. A photo of her, crossing the street. Her face turned just enough that the angle caught her profile. Her eyes, unmistakably hers, stared back at her from the screen.

Y/n felt her stomach tighten, her breathing shallow. She swore she had been careful. But the photographer caught her in a vulnerable state without her sunglasses–having removed them for a wipe down.

She steered clear of the comments as they rolled in quickly, speculating, dissecting, demanding answers.

By the final weekend of the triple-header, Y/n’s nerves were frayed. She recognized the figure now–the faded blue jackets, always just a few paces behind whenever she left the apartment. They weren’t aggressive, never approached, but their presence loomed.

As the day stretched into evening, she locked the front door twice before pacing the length of the living room. The hum of the television played in the background, but her mind raced elsewhere.

Her fingers hovered over her phone for a long moment before she pressed the call button. It rang twice before Fernando’s tired but familiar voice filled the line.

“Amor?” His voice softened immediately, the static of the paddock faint behind him. “Everything okay?”

Y/n hesitated, swallowing the knot in her throat. “I think someone’s been following me.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by the soft sound of his footsteps. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s just…there was a post of me online. Someone’s been taking photos.”

Fernando’s tone darkened instantly. “I’ll handle it. Don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll book a flight back after the race.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered, though a part of her longed for him to.

“I’m not letting you deal with this alone. I’ll call someone to watch your place tonight. Just…stay inside, okay?”

Y/n nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “I will. I just needed to hear your voice.”

Fernando exhaled, softer this time. “I’m with you, even if I’m not there right now. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

As the call ended, Y/n pulled the blanket tighter around her. The presence outside lingered, but for the first time all day, she felt a little less alone.

But on the other side of the world, Fernando’s heart sank. He knew this moment was coming. They couldn’t stay hidden forever, and his own doubts were creeping in.

Written By: CorzyDoie <3

Don't Forget to Interact and Follow! Hope You Enjoyed!

[infamous-light]

Fragments of Us Ch. 5

Vampire! Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4

AO3: Fragments of Us

Summary: Wanda feeds off you.

This is a collection of snippets featuring Wanda and you, set in various situations ranging from lighthearted and intimate moments to intense ones (Chapters can be read independently).

Requests for snippets/drabbles about Wanda are welcome!

Word Count: 463

Warnings: Mild blood, slight possessive behavior

The dim glow of candlelight flickered across the walls as you lay on the bed, your heart pounding against your ribcage like a relentless drumbeat. Above you, Wanda loomed, her striking green eyes shimmering like emeralds in the soft light. When her full lips parted to reveal the pointed ends of her fangs, a jolt of nervous energy surged through you.

“Relax,” Wanda cooed, her voice soft and soothing, though it did little to calm your racing heart. She ran her fingers along your jawline, her touch cool but surprisingly tender before resting them on your shoulders. “I can hear it, you know – your heart. It’s intoxicating.”

Your breath hitched, and her smile grew, a wicked edge curling at the corners. Wanda leaned in closer, her red hair cascading around your face like a silken curtain. You could feel her breath against your neck, hot and teasing.

“Are you scared?” Wanda whispered, her lips grazing your skin ever so lightly, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“No.” You managed to say, though the slight tremor in your voice gave you away.

Wanda hummed in amusement, her nose brushing against your pulse point as she inhaled deeply.

“Liar,” she purred. “But I like it.”

Wanda placed a soft, lingering kiss on your neck. Then, without warning, a sharp sting followed as her fangs pierced your skin, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. The sensation was a bewildering mix of pain and pleasure, leaving you breathless. Warmth spread through your veins almost instantly, a dizzying heat that coiled through you, forcing your fingers to clutch the bed sheets in a desperate grip.

Wanda’s lips pressed firmly against your throat, her fangs sinking deeper as she began to feed. The world around you started to tilt, and without even realizing it, you instinctively arched toward her, surrendering completely. Each pull sent a wave of weakness through you, leaving you lightheaded and your vision swimming at the edges, as though you were floating in a haze of bliss.

When Wanda finally withdrew, the absence of her mouth on your neck left a cold, aching emptiness, and a soft, breathy whimper escaped your lips, barely audible in the still air.

Wanda’s lips, now darkened with crimson, curled into a sly smirk as she caught the sound, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Leaning in slowly, her tongue darted out, gliding over the bitemark as she lapped up the last remnants of blood that oozed from the two puncture points.

“So sweet,” Wanda moaned. She pressed her body down against yours, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she added in a low, possessive whisper, “You’re mine now.”

The words wrapped around you, sending a thrill throughout your body, and you found yourself yearning for more.

[likeorpheus]

The prospect of Francis not being proactive was also difficult for them in a time like this. And so when Cee states the strange thing, the purposeful thing, about not "making something" right now strikes a chord with them. When things were horrible for them, they tried to be active even if it was privately. But things were horrible for everyone. And they had a prominent feeling that with Claire's grief right now (and her impulsive actions), that Cee not being a steady shoulder would make things collapse further. It made sense.

That's all they ever thought about with Abra. Could they really care about themselves right now? When she barely slept? When she got ill? When she was forced to contend with her outside forces?

Francis freezes momentarily, the joint halfway to their lips, at the mention of Gio. Their shoulders stiffen before they recover, drawing a slow drag as if the smoke could buy them time. It doesn’t. They peer at Alo who probably knew the gist already.

Setting the joint gently in the ashtray, they lean forward, forearms braced against the edge of the table. Their face betrays the stress of the situation, though their fingers tap a quiet rhythm on the woodgrain.

“Yeah,” they answer, voice low but steady. “I’ve been… checking in.” Their gaze flickers away, landing on the mismatched furniture around the room, before snapping back to Cee. “That place in the Garden District is quiet most of the time, but Simone mentioned that the old woman she’s been house-sitting for is due back from her pilgrimage soon.”

The words sit heavy between them. Francis shifts in their chair, their discomfort showing in the way their jaw tightens.

“That means she’ll have to find somewhere else.” Their voice dips, an edge of frustration bleeding through despite their best efforts to keep it neutral. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her, stopping by whenever I can. But…” They trail off, their lips pressing into a thin line.

The image of Gio alone in that creaking old house rises unbidden in their mind, her quiet despair etched into every corner. The nights she’d wake up drenched in sweat, breath hitching, haunted by whatever horrors played out behind her closed eyes—it wasn’t something Francis could forget. Not that they’d ever admit how much it gnawed at them.

“She’s not sleeping,” they say finally, their tone softening. “And when she does, it’s bad dreams. Every time.” They shake their head, looking down at their hands. “I don’t know what she’ll do when she has to leave. Hell, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

The admission hangs in the air, raw and unguarded in a way Francis rarely allowed themselves to be. They reach for the joint again, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly, watching the smoke curl upward. Alo had coughed hysterically. They take that as a good sign but before passing the joint back to him, Francis offers it to Cee.

“Maybe…” They hesitate, the weight of their next words pressing down on them like a stone. “Maybe she doesn’t have to leave. I’ve been thinking about—about offering her a place. With me.” Their voice is quieter now, almost drowned out by the faint clatter of Cee’s movements at the stove. “She shouldn’t have to do all this alone. None of us should.”

They glance at Alo, who’s still rubbing at his face, and then back to Cee. “I don’t know if she’d go for it. But I think I have to ask.”

The sound of the shower shutting off punctuates the moment, and Francis’s head turns sharply toward the hallway, tension rippling through their posture. They force themselves to relax, taking another drag as if it might help before giving up the joint completely.

They had all come to grow used to living in a certain way.    Back  at  the  cabin  in  Northern  California,    it was Gio and Vicente who dominated the kitchen during daytime hours     —  they cooked the three essential meals and then some, always laughing over ground chile and doughy masa.    They cooked enough for a small army, Gio and Vicente.   Every morning, and every afternoon   —    and  Cee  seldom  ate  with  the  others,   but Vicente always saved her a plate. Even if it made Gio sigh or shake her head in dismissal. 

They were all getting used to living in vastly different ways. 

    So much change   —   it was enough to make your hands shake,   to set your back teeth on edge.   It wouldn't have been so unlike her to fumble the ball completely.     She kept wondering to herself:  Was Claire surprised when she saw that I actually found a place? Did she half-expect me to piss the money she gave me away? Did I expect me to do that?       So much change was alarming for a thing like her. Unreliable, unstable and constantly dropping the ball — but here she was, fixing French toast for unprompted guests.    Francis and her never got along well.   It was her own fault   —   standoffish as she was,   and she never did well playing nice with others.   She was a twat,  in the not-so-distant past.

And she doesn't expect them to like her.  But she won't turn them away for it.   What would the reason be behind that?   Vicente was dead.  And her thoughts are hinged on Claire — standing beneath the spray of shower water, or maybe sitting with her knees drawn to her chest at the foot of the tub. Her mind is crowded, anxious with thoughts of running water — long black hair, her lover's distant gaze. Preoccupied. That would have been an understatement. Maybe because she's thinking about Claire all the while. And her hands are still shaking. And her stomach is growing teeth. And she just keeps making French toast even though Vicente used to cook breakfast. 

Cee fishes a couple dishes from the drying rack for Francis,  and Alo.   It's a set  —  grey geese delicately drawn along the edges, thorny vine and iris.  She listens to Francis with those same vines knotted around her chest. 

     ❛   —  I normally wouldn't, either. But —... worries me, thinkin' about not making something right now...   ❛    Cee mumbles, melting stick of butter in hand   —   deft fingers working a butter knife, cutting a square. It sizzles on the pan. She wasn't entirely sure if her words would make sense to Francis. Broad hand grips at the pan's handle, shaking teflon-coated cookware until the melting butter spreads.   She works hastily.   Twin slices of bread are dipped in egg wash until dripping, splat — on the pan. 

Alo's haughty gaze is disturbed by the Highmore's inquisition.    He's as quiet as a goddamn pantomine, not looking anywhere but out the window.    His boyish face betrays some immediate confusion.    But he does take the joint, dumbly.     It's drawn to his lips and the short drag makes him cough hard in his chest. 

He shakily hands the joint back to Francis, ears burning. 

Cee cocks her head at the sound, looking over her shoulder to get a good look at something strange: Alo smoking weed. He doesn't seem the type.  What would Kerry say to that, she wonders. She squints, apprehensive for a moment    —    though she's quick to shrug it off.   He was evidently going through some kind of crisis.  Two plates are procured, set in front of Alo and Francis    — French toast glistening with syrup, melting whipped cream.

   ❛   A job, though? Maybe. I dunno. It's difficult when you don't feel drawn to any one thing, y'know?   ❛   She rubs her hands together anxiously, pale eyes darting toward the joint in Francis's possession. She thinks to ask. But then she thinks she hears the shower turn off and swivels her head at once, listening close. 

Alo's rubbing at his flushing face.    She hears the sound of the shower, and sighs. 

    ❛   ... Not to mention I haven't really been looking these past few days.   ❛  And she wasn't rightly sure when she would start up again. Her eyes flash toward Francis, anxious. 

    ❛ — Have you ... have you heard from Gio, by chance? ❛

[paaelle]

I believe Foop would love Rainbow Dash because she's sooo cool and awesome

Hmm Children's Day activity that the teacher gave us because we are celebrating it this week.

The theme was for us to draw cartoon characters from our childhood, but she said nothing about including characters that we liked now too.

[character-obsessed-fem]

i think meeks should be allowed to have three sisters and a single mum... as a treat. bonus points if all of the sisters' names also begin with 'st' - i know thats like the most cliche thing ever but i think her mom would be silly like that alright

i imagine her having a twin sister, named stephanie, (who is older by like, an hour) and two older sisters, named stacy and stella (four years older and seven years older respectively)

"what about her dad??" i am choosing to pretend that her father simply does not Exist™ because i think it's funny if all of the dead poets had some form of daddy issues

[potahun]

sob. thank you op for raising that...i have been thinking about this azusa and furuya exchange again since reading on the Q&A about the 'romantic pair he cannot yet talk about', which made me go 'ah, ok. amuazu a real likelihood if it's a thing that is likely to make waves'...

and yeah...if it really happens, then it means we have to live with them being an item while this exchange also happened. we have to live with GA making us believe furuya would end up with someone who knows him only superficially and has done to him what he's been struggling with all his childhood (and faces into adulthood as well) i don't know how much character distortion or super intense development it requires (how many years is he gonna use) for me to believe this is a credible and lovely romance...

i am guessing that, in the cultural context, what azusa does here is simply considered innocent and quite common. but nonetheless, it really is a blatant statement of "I don't know you beyond the superficial". and furuya's response is the equally superficial "^^" and light impersonal rebuking that amuro does, he's not trying to get her to know him either.

of course, it's all extrapolation whether the remaining romantic pairs rly do include amuazu. but there simply arent many mf pairs left, and we know GA loves his comphet even if it adds nothing to the plot or makes little sense (he introduced a character like chihaya who screams lesbian and even has a dear uni friend only to pair her up immediately with juugo). there are even less mf pairs that would make a fuss. like, what, yoko x kazami? jodie x camel? wouldnt even make a ripple. the only other pair i can think of would be akai x rumi...or an unknown pair with haibara... so if amuazu does become canon, i might have to at least start adhering to the belief that ZTT/movies are in a different parallel universe as the main timeline (even if movie-canon facts are also manga-canon). azusa and furuya would still know each only superficially, with azusa only knowing his amuro persona, but eh, at least this specific characterization of azusa would be out of the way.

i did see that the original tweet came from an amuazu shipper account, while it seems most of the other tweets about the Q&A phrase the answer to that question in a more neutral way. so i will wait a bit...but i also feel like it's a possible thing for GA, especially considering the latest chapters where he's been teasing the ship more and more (WHILE NOT MAKING IT ROMANTIC) he's also done some very weird narrative choices lately, introducing aoko's mum in MK and doing acrobatics to explain her absence, thereby completely messing up the perfectly logical narrative of nakamori being an overworked single dad. im worried he might go ahead and do something equally crazy for furuya, like introducing that he actually had a family all along! who's proud of him and raised him normally but he just cut ties because of his job or whatever! so he's never really been isolated! azusa was his childhood friend but she forgot! and oh! somehow, amuro is the real persona, let's forget about grumpy, high-strung furuya of ZTT, so amuazu can work as a wholesome pair because azusa knew the real him all along!

that's the type of thing that would disappoint me the most. like, yes, i would also be a bit heartbroken because i like hc-ing azusa and furuya as lesbian and gay respectively. i like their dynamics as co-workers who dont really want to know each other on a deeper level, but work well together. but beyond that, i mostly worry that GA has to distort their characters as we currently know them to make this pairing work, and that he will do it, because unfortunately, he HAS done narrative choices before that were not bound by logical narrative flow and were only made to serve a purpose that only he enjoys...

But really, that dialogue in ZTT Ch. 1 that Aoyama either wrote himself or signed off on is insane, especially when you compare how Rei’s mixed heritage is addressed in WPS by his friends:

vs. in ZTT:

The only way this makes sense to me is if it was meant to further emphasize how alone Rei is in the here and now. He has no one who sees him as himself anymore, and neither does he have anyone who’d get angry enough to defend him. He himself is used to this level of othering- it’s not even worth getting mad at anymore, even if he might spitefully overcompensate at home by cooking up a storm of food that actually suits his tastes. So he’ll never bite back against it himself.

I assume Aoyama was planning an am*azu endgame from before ZTT started, considering that early am*azu fantasy chapter. Why in the world wouldn’t he have instead written Azusa as an ally to Rei, in that case? She could’ve defended Rei against a casually discriminating background character, cementing her as a proper friend to Rei that he hasn’t had since he lost his last police academy buddy.

Instead, he chose to do the exact opposite.