#but I just have to mention how much I adored all of them

[baepsays]

ADORATION & AFFECTION ⸻ cult leader husband Geto Suguru.

cw: NSFW, husband geto, cult leader geto, established relationship, he is very charming, in a lowkey manipulative way lol, suggestive stuff :3c, pervy Suguru smh, somnophilia, dubcon, eating out, some manhandling, fem oriented reader, no pronouns mentioned, he can use that mouth for more than words, but words sure are his strong suit, anyway kind of just cute shit

Geto Suguru prioritizes his mornings spent with his wife in their bed, over everything. It is the determinant of the quality of his day. If he does not get to laze around in your arms before reluctantly waking up, it will make things harder for his followers that day. Hence they do not even try to wake him up, they leave it to you.

But it is no easy task, if he feels the slightest stir on your side of the bed in the morning, quickly grabs onto your wrists and pulls you on top of him. Holds you tightly by the waist and hips, groping and marking up your skin through the bunched up silhouette of the nightgown. 

And if with much thrashing you get half up, he's rolling over— making you lie under him, to have his body weigh you down, pressing you into the mattress. Any voice of protest is drowned by his rhythmic words and steady tone. He talks in riddles and poetry, tracing a single callous finger from your forehead, to nose, then lips and cheeks.

"Every attempt you make to get away from me, pulls you closer into me." He'd say words as such

"What are you, quicksand?"

"If anything, it is you who consumes every fiber of my sanity every living moment, darling."

A slight chuckle would leave his throat along with his finger, still tracing you like a map he has known for centuries. It goes down and down. Ending up on your collarbones, and then goes back up again, gliding on the length of your neck, to your chin—pulling your lips to his.

I suppose everything can wait.

So one has to imagine these bad habits of his—coercion and not looking beyond what he wants—results in some trouble with you at times. 

One such instance can be brought up, where he told you about a meeting which was scheduled, prior as an important one—which is not uncommon. He has to attend a plethora of meetings and gatherings to keep the people (or monkeys as he likes to call them), interested and charmed. It was not the mention of his work, you've come to understand the man you love happens to be a little cruel, that makes your brows scrunch. Which is ultimately for the betterment of everyone, of course, what he tells you.

“What do you mean? Is this some joke?” 

“Why would I be joking about this darling? It is work after all.”

“Yes, but- how long will it be?”

“As per usual, most of the day, and if it takes more time I might have to have dinner outside as well.” 

“So you really do not remember?”

“What are you referring to?”

It was the particular date that the meeting was set on, and the length of the time he was supposed to spend there. Instead of with you, on your anniversary especially. That is what pissed you off.

So when subtle hints, and constant queries of confirmation of the date, does not give him the hint. The vocalization of your anger through the silent treatment, does. Unfortunately, he's someone who reciprocates your annoyances at him absolutely right back.

You are not talking to him at the dinner table?

Good. He won't either. He won't even accept the glass of water you silently offer him when he's choking on his food. Persistent and annoying to the point it makes you leave the table.

Days pass with both of your petulant, silent, persisting fights. Making things harder for yourselves and the poor servants and followers. 

He gets an important call one day, summoning him to a meeting and he's on his feet, but has to halt at the door of your bedroom—because just as he's at the threshold, you slam the drawer of the dresser by the door really hard, still very pissed off at him. 

“Miguel! Get the car ready.” 

As soon as he yells his order, he moves haphazardly to the side where you stood, staring and observing with angry eyes, furrowed eyebrows and pouting lips. Barely giving you any time to process anything, to even get the chance to back away, he comes at you at light's speed. And so he forcefully grabbed onto your forearms, and slammed you into the nearest wall. With enough force to make you understand the little charade of yours has prickled him more than enough.

His lips are feverishly hot on yours, teeth, tongue, bites and all. Your hands grip his hair to get him off you, while simultaneously pulling him in— making his neatly tied up hair fall stray everywhere. And if one of your hands gives up and goes to grab onto the curtain beside you, for some support, one of his own hands is already creeping on your arms to snatch your hands off the curtains, and ripping the curtains off the rod in the process.

After leaving you further speechless, with every intention this time, and a little breathless; he simply walks out with his hand in his hair, smoothing out and tucking back the loose strands of hair in a half up bun. But he does not bother to wipe away the lipstick smudged all over his lips and chin.

And while in the car, he cannot help but smile to himself. Looking at his messy appearance in the reflection of the windows, if anyone has anything to say of his wife's beautiful shade of lipstick, they can deal with him first. And then worry some more about their tongue snatched out of their throat, later.

The thought alone of not being able to wait to tell you that the apparent cult meeting he told you about, scheduled on both of your anniversary, was a lie. 

And why did he lie? Well. He felt like it.

The sight of you struggling to express your absolute wrath on him, is the most adorable thing to him. You can call him sadistic, but he just likes to see his ever so patient and kind wife get absolutely stirred up by his made up stories. He cannot help but imagine how he would be tormenting you in your shared bed later when he returns tonight. How he would slide his hands up your nightgown after throwing the blankets off your sleeping figure. And he knows for a fact, despite any amount of anger, you’d sleep without your panties on. Only for him, to bury his face in between your thighs and put his tyrannizing mouth to better use. Because with his tongue down in your cunt, he is the most helpless poet of them all.

You can get angry about that as well, as usual, when you wake up. But he knows how to leave you a whining moaning puddle, just as well as he knows how to provoke you to become a screaming shouting mess.   

Do what you like, he will fuck you pliant, then sweet talk the anger right out of you.

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources. header from Yamada-kun to Lv999 no Koi wo Suru. honestly i would not mind writing more of him this was a very short on a whim oneshot type of deal, but i can totally see myself expanding their relationship and dynamics. he is crazy, believe me when i say he is super good at making his wife forget that. if you see any mistakes please lmk i did not bother reading it after last edit.

this has been marinating and going through edits for no reason lol. Anyway was gonna be a nanami oneshot but just suited this guy more ykkkkkk. ugh.

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @cuntphoric @nanamiskentos @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @arcanarix @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @moonchhu @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic

[iamgonnagetyouback-recs]

SIRIUS BLACK.ᐟ

a little list of my favorite stories ୨ৎ remember to be kind, reblog, and support the wonderful authors who share their magic with us.ᐟ

NOTE ಇ. none of these stories belong to me ♡ if you’d like your fic removed, just send me a message, and i’ll take care of it!

date by @sun-kissy

⁀➴༯ sirius for some reason thinks you have a crush on regulus

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh my god the tension in this had me actually holding my breath, san. sirius being all dramatic and broody while reader is just exhausted with potions?? perfect. but then the confrontation?? my heart hurt for both of them. sirius being jealous and insecure and reader being so confused but so soft when she realizes what's happening. and the james/regulus mention?? peak comedy. the ending was so sweet, i'm actually kicking my feet

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

forever by @/sun-kissy

⁀➴༯ you're cold, and you're in love with sirius

REVIEW ୨ৎ this was absolutely gorgeous. the tenderness, the pining, the way every little movement is soaked in love—it’s stunning. you have such a delicate way of writing sirius, san, i love it! the smoking detail was such a perfect addition—how he doesn’t put it out but still adjusts for you, how you bought an ashtray just for him. it’s intimate in the way that truly knowing someone is intimate. and that cuddle request??? i nearly stopped breathing. the way reader braces for rejection only to be met with sirius’ sure, get over here, babe—it wrecked me. and then the way he pulls her closer, holds her like it’s second nature? absolutely everything. “my arms have no curfew, sweetheart. they’re content to hold you as long as you please.” —i’m going to be thinking about that line for days. i’m in awe.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

right where i want to be by @appocalipse

⁀➴༯ it's only when lily accidentally spills amortentia on you and all you can smell is cigarettes and dog fur that you realize you're in love with sirius — probably the only person in the world you shouldn't be in love with

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh this hurts in the best way. the slow, creeping realization, the way sirius just knows and won’t let her run from it, the tension??? i’m actually losing my mind. the teasing, the softness, the way he says i want you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world??? i need to lie down. no one disturb me, except maybe you amy cause well you wrote this

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

shy!reader by @moonstruckme

⁀➴༯ bf!sirius teasing reader about something, and it actually hurts her feelings quite a lot? maybe she's always thought she's to shy for him, and he teases her about being quiet and it just hurts so much that he sees her just like everyone else does? like she thought he understood her, but instead he's teasing her about something she's really insecure about

REVIEW ୨ৎ this is so soft i could cry. sirius just knows her, and even when he messes up, he listens, he cares. the way he apologizes??? instantly, genuinely, with no ego—i’m in love. and the way he tucks her into his space so easily, so naturally, like she belongs there??? i’m melting. i now identify as a puddle of tears from all this fluffiness

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

clingy!sirius by @inkdrinkerworld

⁀➴༯ sirius being clingy and your friends teasing you guys

REVIEW ୨ৎ this is the most disgustingly adorable thing i’ve ever read. sirius is just so in love and unashamed about it, and everyone else is exasperated but also just accepting of his dramatics. like yeah, of course he buries himself under her shirt like a needy puppy, what else is new?? i am weak

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

kids by @/inkdrinkerworld

⁀➴༯ you are unsure about having kids

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh this is so soft i actually can’t breathe. the way they’re so open with each other and sirius just listens???? no judgment, just love???? and the way he reassures her without trying to change her mind??? “we can keep our family just like this” i’m actually going to cry. and then the stupid little “and a cat” moment like please. and him being like “i don’t think i could put someone over you” like sir. that is the most sirius black thing i’ve ever heard. i love them so much this fic is everything

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

i got you first by @thatdammchickennugget

⁀➴༯ "if i scare you tonight, you'll owe me a kiss." with sirius black but in the end he ends up getting scared

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh, this is delicious. sirius trying so hard to get a reaction out of her, only for her to completely turn the tables on him?? absolutely love. and that moment in the maze? when she flips the game on him, and he just folds under her touch?? yeah. that man is gone. completely and utterly wrecked by her. the way he just stares and then that lazy grin—i swear, i felt that in my soul. also, the fact that their first kiss isn't rushed or desperate, but soft and slow? sirius black, you are in love. and so am i with this fic

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

sober feelings by @lovemenotts

⁀➴༯ bsf!reader with him out of the blue suggesting 'what if we kiss but not in a dating way?'

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh my god. oh my god. this was everything. the casual suggestion like it’s nothing while my heart is combusting?? sirius being all cocky but then immediately spiraling after??? the way he was so worried the next day i'm gonna cry. and then the confession??? i am on the floor. “we should’ve kissed as friends a long time ago” sirius please be serious about me next

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

yellow hearts by @nottswitch

⁀➴༯ the times you put yellow hearts around his name, and the times he put them around yours

REVIEW ୨ৎ this was so soft i’m actually going to cry. the progression from absolute mortification to comfort and love??? sirius teasing but also so gentle???? the yellow hearts showing up again and again??? and the honeymoon bit oh my god. their bickering is so stupid and adorable and so them. the fact that they get their little happy ending and it’s literally framed in yellow hearts. i’m unwell

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

bad dog by @lupinsversion

⁀➴༯ sirius has a bad habit of flirting with others, especially in front of his girlfriend. has she finally had enough?

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh he DESERVED that bonk on the head. “bad dog” is actually the funniest and most fitting reaction ever. like yes, he’s sirius black, of course he’s going to be a little shit about flirting, but also? he needs to learn. and i love that james and remus are calling him out too because yeah, it’s “harmless” but it’s also not harmless when it clearly hurts his girlfriend. sirius sulking about it and realizing he actually feels bad?? good. let him sit in his wrongness and learn from it. this was so well done, i loved it but ahem mak i think i speak for all when i say part is needed

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

a marauders guide to siblings by @ellecdc

REVIEW ୨ৎ this was absolutely delightful. james potter and his love for love, his pure dedication to making this triple date happen—it’s so him. the way he just won’t take no for an answer, and how everyone else is reluctantly dragged into his chaos, is peak marauders energy. and the dialogue? oh mama. i love how everyone interacts here, from sirius being completely against it because of the “googly eyes” problem, to remus and regulus just being exasperated with the entire situation. and the moment james finally gets what he wants, only to immediately start overthinking it and worrying about the sibling connections?? absolutely hilarious. and sirius being all soft for reader, saying she was worth the nonsense? perfect. this was so fun to read, i adored every second of it!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmain blog ￫ @iamgonnagetyouback

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 12

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose. Also Discussion of toxic media/fandom/death threats.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando sat on the couch, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. Lizzie, curled up next to him with Mara at her feet, noticed his thumb hovering over the screen, hesitating. She nudged him with her knee.

"Alright, what is it? Did Max send you another cursed meme?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. There was something going on. Something that he hadn't told her yet. 

She had learned to read Lando well enough to pick up on these kinds of unsaid cues. The way he looked, the way he smiled, his eyes just so crinkling at the corners...she knew exactly the titl of his head, the way the right corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile when he read something funny on his phone...She knew. 

And she treasured all these tiny details, hoarded them like a dragon did to it's gold. 

Lando huffed a small laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Worse."

Lizzie's eyebrows furrowed, concern creasing her forehead. That wasn't good.  "Worse? What's worse than Max Verstappen's questionable taste in humor?" she asked, trying to infuse some humour into the situation, but Lando didn't seem interested in that. 

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, you know how I sent that picture of Mara in her Ferrari bandana to Charles?"

Lizzie's face lit up as she nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, how could I forget? The cutest picture I've ever seen."

Her dog was the most adorable dog to ever grace this earth, thank you very much. (She was very much certain that every dog owner had thought that at one moment in time, but she was correct!) 

Lando chuckled and pulled her into his side. She breathed in the scent that was simply him, something fresh and warm and so utterly Lando...feeling his body warmth seep into her, through the thin shirt he was wearing. "Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that a thousand times," he teased. "But you’ll never guess what happened when Charles showed that picture to his girlfriend."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "What, did she think it was so cute it gave her a heart attack?" she joked. Not that she could fault Charles' girlfriend if that was indeed the case. 

"She recognized Mara," Lando said drily. That was not what Lizzie had expected. Actually that was the last thing she had expected.  "Alexandra Saint Mleux," Lando said, watching her reaction carefully. "is apparently a Lizzie Treshton superfan."

Lizzie’s eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?" she asked, a mix of shock and amusement coloring her voice. Really? "A F1 WAG read my books?"

"Not just her," Lando said, shaking his head. "All of them. And they’ve decided they need to meet you. Effective immediately."

Lizzie stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. 

"So what, they started plotting?" she teased.

"Plotting would be an understatement," Lando said, amused. "I have been forcefully added to the WAG council group chat, and they are demanding that I bring you to a race."

The mere idea of being in a group chat with the wives and girlfriends of Formula 1’s elite sounded like a scene straight out of a fanfiction, but apparently it was her real life now. 

"There’s a WAG council?" She asked, shocked besides herself. That sounded...actually, she had no idea what that sounded like. 

"Apparently."

"That’s amazing," Lizzie said, still giggling. 

Lando made a face. "It’s terrifying."

Lizzie bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "Demanding might be a strong word, though, right?"

"Oh, no," Lando corrected, his expression deadly serious. "There were threats, bribes, and full capital letters. Also, they all want signed copies of Seasons of Fate."

Lizzie let out a soft oh of understanding before shaking her head with a grin. "You know, I really didn’t think this was how our relationship was going to get outed," she said drily. Really. This was really not what she had had in mind. 

"Neither did I," Lando admitted. "But the WAGs are apparently above no tactics when it comes to getting their hands on signed books."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, her curiosity only growing. "So, what exactly did they say?"

Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls. "Well, for starters, Alex offered to ‘whore out her Ferrari golden boy boyfriend’ if it meant getting you to Silverstone."

Lizzie cackled. "She said that?"

"Verbatim," Lando confirmed, looking equal parts entertained and exhausted. "And apparently, Charles will sign whateveryou want if he doesn’t want to be murdered in his sleep."

She burst out in laughter at that. 

"Well, that sounds like... quite the deal," she said, trying desperately to stay serious. "I don’t know whether to be concerned or find it hilariously absurd."

Lando smirked, clearly amused by the situation. "It’s a lot of both," he assured her. "But they're not afraid to play dirty." He grew serious. "I wanted to talk to you before this all blows up. I know we haven’t exactly been hiding, but we also haven’t been, you know, public."

Lizzie sobered slightly, understanding what he was getting at. "You’re worried about what happens when people know."

He nodded. "It’s just… your life is already busy, and the last thing I want is for my world to make things harder for you. The fans, the media, the scrutiny—it’s a lot. And I don’t want you to feel pressured into dealing with that."

Her heart painfully constricted, her expression softened, because it was clear that Lando was worried about this. "I appreciate that," she said sincerely. "But, Lando… I’ve been dealing with fan and media attention for a while now. I thinkI can handle it."

Lando frowned slightly. "Yeah, but F1 media is different. It’s relentless. They’ll speculate about everything, dig through your old tweets, try to twist things. Hell, they’re probably going to turn Mara into some kind of meme."

Lizzie smirked. "I mean, she is an icon. It’s about time the world recognizes it."

Lando groaned. "Lizzie."

She laughed before squeezing his hand. "Look, I won’t pretend it won’t be overwhelming. But I do know that I don’t want to keep pretending we’re just… nothing."

"You know that they’ll be hounding your every move?" he warned her, his voice tinged with concern. "The fans can be ruthless, the media is relentless, and the tabloids—well, they make up their own storylines."

She nodded. "I won’t lie, I know it’s going to be overwhelming. I mean, I have seen what happens when the internet latches onto F1 relationships. But I also know I don’t want to pretend we’re just… nothing. You make me happy, and I don’t want to hide that."

Lando was silent for a moment, his eyes meeting Lizzie's. His thumb traced a gentle circle on the back of her hand as he seemed lost in thought.

“You make me happy too,” he told her, his voice soft. “But they’ll…they’re going to dissect every little thing. If you don’t come to a race, we’ll probably be at the brink of a break up. If you do come, they’ll write ridiculous headlines of you stealing the spotlights. They are going to speculate on how long we’ve been together, probably even come up with wild conspiracy theories..."

She could hear it in his voice, how much it stressed him...how uch even just the thought of people doing that to their relationship was hurting him. 

"Hey," she said softly. "I’m a bestselling fantasy author, Lando. People come up with wild conspiracy theories about my books on a daily basis. I can handle it."

Lando chuckled at that. "Fair point," he admitted, conceding her argument. The tension in his shoulders eased some. "I just…I want you to be sure,” Lando said hesitantly. “The Formula One fandom is another level when it comes to speculating about relationships. And some fans are bloody mental. I have literally received death threats, and I am not the only one. And the media? They are going to be relentless. They’ll ask questions about you at every race, they’ll bring up your epilepsy, they’ll try to spin things."

Lizzie knew that. She was very much aware of that. But Lizzie had lived with her epilepsy for nearly all her life. She already had heard every single horrible thing somebody could say about that. 

Now it would be more of the same. Simply on a bigger stage. 

Was it scary? Yes. 

Did she care? Not really. 

So Lizzie simply squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I know. I’m not naive. And I won’t pretend it doesn’t scare me a little. But I also know I don’t want to let fear dictate my life. We’re in this together, right?"

"Of course, we are."

Lizzie leaned in, resting her forehead against his. "Then let’s do it."

Lando grinned, all traces of his earlier tension disappearing. "You’re braver than me," he said, pulling her closer so he could kiss her forehead. "Are you sure you’re ready for this circus?"

A mischievous glint flashed in Lizzie's eyes. "Honey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from writing about a war between magical races, it’s that I can handle whatever comes my way."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head at her audacity. "You’re something else, you know that?" he said warmly. 

"Yes," she said, grinning. "So, you’ll take me to Silverstone?"

"I was supposed to be the one inviting you, you know," Lando muttered, feigning exasperation.

Lizzie just smirked. "Too slow, Norris.  Let’s do it. If the WAGs want signed books, I might as well hand-deliver them."

Lando let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But the moment we walk into the paddock together, the internet is going to explode."

Lizzie leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back with a knowing smile. "Then let’s give them a show, shall we?"

[enhaflixer]

For our marriage law couple:

Q1. Did the readers' parents ever meet jay or their kid/s????

Q2. How did they find out about the pregnancy? Muggle ways or any magical ones????

Q3. How is jay during the pregnancy??

Thank you soooo much for the wonderful fics love you <3

Exclusive Interview with Park Jongseong & His Wife on Love, Parenthood, and a Certain Marriage Law

—A sit-down with the unexpected love story that defied the Ministry’s rules, featuring Jay Park, his wife, and a surprise mention of their daughter.

-

Q1: Did your parents ever meet Jay or Jane?

(You sigh, running a hand through your hair while Jay, sitting next to you, casually rests an arm along the back of your chair. His thumb absentmindedly brushes against your shoulder.)

You: “Not for a long time.”

Jay: nods slowly “Yeah, that was… complicated.”

You: “I didn’t expect them to reply when I texted them about the marriage. And they didn’t.”

Jay: quietly “For years.”

You: nods “It wasn’t until Jane was, what? Two?”

Jay: “Yeah, around then. I remember because we had just started thinking about putting her in a playgroup, and that’s when your parents reached out.”

You: “It was... tense.”

Jay: shrugs “I mean, I get it. They didn’t know me. And the whole ‘pureblood wizard married their daughter through some law they probably didn’t even understand’ thing? Not exactly the easiest thing to process.”

You: snorts “I think they barely tolerated the idea of magic in general, let alone their grandchild having it.”

Jay: grinning slightly “To be fair, Jane won them over before I did.”

You: softly “Yeah. They were distant at first, but then Jane did… I don’t know, something ridiculously adorable, and suddenly my mother was acting like she was the world’s most doting grandmother.”

Jay: smirks “She levitated a toy broomstick, and your dad nearly fainted.”

You: “He still thinks she’s telekinetic.”

Jay: shrugs “Let him believe that. If it helps him sleep at night.”

-

Q2: How did you find out you were pregnant? Muggle ways or magical ones?

Jay: groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face “This is my villain origin story.”

You: laughing “Jay knew before I did.”

Jay: deadpan “Because your magic was acting up. And you kept getting dizzy.”

You: mocking “And your first thought was ‘pregnancy’?”

Jay: “And I was right.”

You: grinning “But I still needed proof, so after the healer confirmed it, I made Jay go buy a Muggle pregnancy test—”

Jay: glaring at you “There are way too many kinds of those things.”

You: mocking “Which one is the most accurate? I should just buy all of them—”

Jay: grumbling “Look, if I was going to do it, I was going to do it right.”

You: laughing “Anyway, I took the test, stared at the two pink lines, still trying to process, and then he just—” pauses, smiling at Jay “You just knelt in front of me, held my hand, and said, ‘It’s real, baby.’”

Jay: clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck “Yeah.”

Q3: How was Jay during the pregnancy?

(You roll your eyes. Jay scoffs, shaking his head, because he already knows what you’re about to say.)

You: “A complete mess.”

Jay: offended “I was not a mess.”

You: flatly “Jay. You read twelve books on pregnancy, six on magical child development, and made a whole binder of research.”

Jay: muttering “...organization is key.”

You: “He wouldn’t let me carry anything heavier than a quill. And if I so much as sighed, he was at my side like, ‘Are you okay? Do you need water? Are you hungry? Should I get the healer?’”

Jay: grumbling “I was taking care of you.”

You: grinning “You were being dramatic.”

Jay: “And you loved it.”

You: softens “Yeah. I did.”

Jay: smirks “Told you.”

You: “You were also so soft. You would just randomly kiss my belly, whisper to Jane when you thought I was asleep. And you lived for when she kicked. The first time it happened, you completely froze.”

Jay: “Listen, feeling an actual human foot kick your hand from inside your wife is a lot to process.”

You: laughs “You were so in love already.”

Jay: quietly, brushing his fingers over your hand “Still am.”

-

Q4: Why Jane? Why that name?

Jay: scoffs “You act like this was some deep, symbolic decision. We were just tired of arguing.”

You: grinning “We fought for months over names.”

Jay: “Because you kept coming up with the worst ones.”

You: mocking “‘Jayden’ wasn’t that bad.”

Jay: horrified “I refuse to name my daughter after myself like some egotistical maniac.”

You: “Says the guy who wanted ‘Seraphina Aurelius Park.’”

Jay: shrugging “Sounds powerful.”

You: “Sounds like she should be ruling an empire.”

Jay: smirks “Maybe she will.”

You: laughing “Anyway, we were lying in bed one night, and I just said, ‘What about Jane?’ and he didn’t even argue. Just said, ‘Yeah. That’s it.’”

Jay: grinning “Because it fit. It was simple, classic. No unnecessary nonsense.”

You: mocking “So not Seraphina Aurelius Park?”

Jay: deadpan “I stand by my decision.”

-

And there you have it—proof that even a government-mandated marriage couldn’t stop love from finding its way in.

TL: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @ddolleri @somuchdard @beariegyu @ijustwannareadstuff20 @zzhengyu @annybah

[tortillamastersblog]

Rock Bottom | Vada Cavell

Pairing: Vada Cavell x reader

Warnings: school shooting, mentions of gunshot wounds, PTSD, nightmares, ANGST

Summary: After getting hurt in the shooting, you try to recover while also taking care of Vada, but she pushes you away until you can’t take it anymore.

Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

I kill the engine of my motorcycle as soon as I pull into a parking spot right in front of the school and take off my helmet, running my fingers through my hair.

I’m a little later than usual, but I’m still on time, so it’s fine. I get off my bike and move to follow the stream of students trickling into the school, but I stop a second later when I hear a familiar laugh.

A smile immediately blooms on my face as I turn around to see Nick and Vada goofing around with Starbucks cups in their hands, making their way toward the school.

“And then when you—” she hops and makes a fart noise with her mouth, “—it could be, like, you’re texting your boss.”

Confused, I frown slightly, wondering what in the world they could possibly be talking about, but I don’t stop smiling. They’re always like this, talking about the most random shit.

“Yeah! Texting your boss,” Nick agrees, flicking some of his shiny hair out of his face. “I love it. We love it.”

“Gotta keep it fancy.” Vada giggles, and then her eyes land on me. She skips over with a bright smile. “Hey!”

“Hi! Good morning. You seem to be in a good mood,” I observe, closing my eyes for a second as she pulls me down by the collar of my shirt to peck my lips.

“Mhmm. We went to Starbucks!” she beams, lifting her half-empty iced coffee for emphasis.

I laugh softly and smile at Nick when he joins us. “I can see that.”

“You want some?” she asks. I nod, taking her cup and sipping from it. It’s a little sweeter than I usually prefer my coffee, but it’s still good, so I take another sip before handing it back.

“We also got some cake pops, but we already ate them in the car,” she adds with an apologetic smile. I just shrug it off and take her free hand, lacing our fingers together.

“It’s fine. Were they at least any good?” I ask as the three of us walk into the school just as the first bell rings.

Nick nods and rolls his eyes dramatically. “So good.”

I laugh softly and shake my head fondly as we quickly make our way to our lockers, grabbing our things before heading to class.

Nick has math first, while Vada and I have geography, so we split at the stairs—Nick whining playfully at the prospect of leaving us, while Vada waves him off before grabbing onto my arm and leaning against me as we walk to class.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asks, looking up at me with sparkling eyes after taking another sip of coffee. It’s honestly adorable how short she is, especially in the baggy clothes she always wears.

I shrug. “My parents have date night, so not much. Why?”

“Well…” She squeezes my arm and stops right in front of our classroom, forcing a couple of students to grumble as they move around us to get inside. “My dad’s making lasagna, and he was wondering if you wanted to come over again.”

“Your dad wants me to come over?” I smile teasingly and brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, yeah. And me too, of course. And Millie… and my mom. They all kind of love you ever since you stayed with us for Christmas,” she says, amusement and a hint of embarrassment dancing in her eyes, which makes me chuckle.

It’s true. Ever since Christmas, which I spent with them while my parents were away in Shanghai for a meeting at their law firm, they’ve loved having me around. Millie keeps texting me about the camera stand I got her so she can film her YouTube videos, and both Mr. and Mrs. Cavell keep thanking me for the basketball season tickets I got them through my parents' firm.

“In that case, how could I possibly refuse?” I press a chaste kiss to her hairline. “But I have practice after school, so I won’t be able to come over right away.”

“That’s fine.” She beams and touches my chin fondly before the tardy bell forces us to move and step into the classroom.

We find two empty seats at the front of the room and pull out our things while Ms. Foster tells the other students to settle down.

The lesson begins, and even though I listen and take notes, I keep stealing glances at Vada. I love the way her eyes shine with curiosity as she listens, and I love it even more when she asks questions I never would have thought of. She’s so smart and funny, and it’s honestly a mystery how she ended up with me.

The first time we talked was two years ago when she ran into me in the cafeteria, making me spill my juice all over myself. After that, we made small talk in the hallway until we were paired for a chemistry project. By the end of it, I somehow found the courage to ask her out, even though I almost had a nervous breakdown because of it, and she said yes. Now, we have been together for over a year and a half.

She always comes to my track meets, and I always go to Barnes & Noble with her, carrying her books while she browses the shelves. Of course, we do other things too, like cooking together or going bowling with our friends, but what matters most is that we show up for each other.

Vada’s phone buzzing on her table snaps me out of my thoughts. I glance at her when it buzzes again, and she looks at the screen with a frown.

“Everything okay?” I ask quietly.

She looks up and shakes her head before turning her phone toward me.

Millie (8:49 AM)

911

Call me.

I frown too and tilt my head toward the door, silently telling her to go and call her. She nods and raises her hand, waiting for Ms. Foster to notice before asking to go to the bathroom. As she leaves, she throws one last look in my direction.

I shoot her an encouraging smile and watch her go, hoping Millie is okay before trying to focus back on the lesson.

It’s adorable how well the two of them get along, and it’s clear how much Millie looks up to Vada. Sometimes, I wish I had siblings, but then again, I’m over at the Cavells’ so often that Millie is basically my sister too. She constantly ropes me into helping her film YouTube videos or makes me take her to Starbucks. She’s a cute kid, and Vada loves her, so I love her too.

A couple of minutes pass, and I start to wonder why Vada has been gone so long. But before I can dwell on it any further, the door flies open.

And then all hell breaks loose.

I flinch as the sting of antiseptic sears through my ear, sending pain shooting down my neck and across the entire left side of my face.

What’s going on?

I blink rapidly, only now realizing that I’m no longer at school.

Where am I?

There’s beeping. Voices shouting. The sterile scent of antiseptic mixing with the sharp, metallic tang of blood.

I’m in a hospital.

I’m in the hospital.

How—Why—I don’t—

“Darling, oh my God!”

My mother’s voice pulls me from the haze, and I barely register the nurse who was just standing beside me as she steps back, pulling off her gloves.

Then my parents rush to my side—deathly pale, horror-stricken, still in their office clothes, so starkly different from the scrubs around them.

“Are you—Are you okay?” My dad’s voice shakes as he cups my face, his fingers trembling against my cheek as he inspects the bandage wrapped around my head.

My mom grabs my limp hands, squeezing them between hers. Her grip is so tight, it almost hurts.

“I don’t…” I trail off, suddenly dizzy, lightheaded.

Only now do I realize that my left ear is ringing. A sharp, relentless whine.

I swallow dryly, my throat thick. My mind is blank, disoriented. I don’t understand how I got here.

“What happened?” I whisper.

My parents share a look, silent but heavy with concern, before my mom finally speaks, her voice wavering. “There was a shooting, darling. You… You were… your ear.”

My ear?

I pull my hand free from hers and raise it to my left ear.

The moment I touch the bandage, pain jolts through me like a live wire. And then suddenly—

The door flies open.

There’s a loud bang.

It feels like someone punched me in the side of my head

I fall to the floor.

My ears are ringing.

Something hot and sticky drips down the side of my neck.

“Sweetheart?”

I flinch and my eyes snap open. My parents are staring at me, their faces wet with tears.

“You’ve been shot,” my dad says, his voice breaking. “That bastard… He— you—”

He chokes on a sob, and my mom’s grip on my hands tightens as tear slips down her cheek.

Shot.

I’ve been shot.

There was a shooting.

My mind is racing, but at the same time, it feels like I can’t think at all. It’s like my brain is fogged up, refusing to process what happened.

No matter how hard I try to remember, I can’t.

“What?” My voice sounds distant to my own ears, but my dad repeats himself, telling me there’s been a shooting and that I almost died.

I almost died.

A lot of others did die.

No, that can’t be. That can’t—

“Vada,” I breathe, suddenly remembering how she looked back at me right before leaving the classroom. “Where’s Vada? Is she okay? Is she okay?!”

I go to stand up, but my mom immediately presses a hand to my shoulder, keeping me down.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as she says something, but nothing really registers until I finally catch:

“…talked to her mom… she’s fine. She’s at home and she’s fine.”

Fine.

She’s fine.

I need to see her.

I need to see her now.

“I— I need to see her,” I say, my breath coming too fast, my ear throbbing in sync with my pulse. “I need to— I need to—”

“Alright.” My dad’s hand lands on my knee, grounding me just enough to meet his gaze. “We’ll go see her, but first, we need to get you discharged.”

I nod frantically, my chest tightening.

There was a shooting. I’ve been shot. I almost died.

But Vada is fine.

She’s fine.

After what feels like forever, the same nurse who stitched me up returns. She hands my parents discharge papers and gives them a bottle of painkillers to take home.

She instructs them on how to look for signs of infection and warns that I might have temporary tinnitus in my left ear, but that it should go away once the shock wears off.

Then she sends us on our way.

Outside, my parents help me toward the car, and my mom makes me pull on a clean shirt from my gym bag before we drive off to Vada’s.

The car feels too small, too quiet, and too loud all at once.

My parents keep talking, their voices muffled, like I’m hearing them through a wall.

“Does your ear hurt? The nurse said you should take something when we get home.”

“We still need to call your uncle—he’s been trying to reach us since he saw the news.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

I stare out the window, watching buildings blur past. I don’t want to answer. I don’t want to think about the last thing I remember.

I vaguely hum in response, not sure which question I’m even answering.

“Honey?” My mom reaches behind her from the passenger seat and squeezes my knee gently.

“I’m fine,” I mutter.

They don’t press, but I feel their worried glances through the rearview mirror.

Then, finally, we pull onto the Cavells’ street.

Before the car even fully stops, I take off my seatbelt and push the door open.

“Slow down!” My dad shouts as I stumble out of the car, my legs unsteady beneath me.

“Sweetheart, wait!” My mom’s voice follows, but I barely hear them.

All I can focus on is Vada.

I half-stumble, half-run toward the front door, my breath coming hard and fast.

She’s fine, they said.

But I need to see for myself.

I reach the porch and bang on the door, my hands shaking.

"Y/N," Vada's mom breathes when she opens the door. “Oh, God.”

She pulls me into a hug and I let her despite my burning need to see Vada.

“Are you— Do you— How are you feeling?” she stammers.

“I’m okay,” I croak. “I just— Vada…”

She pulls back and cups my cheeks for a moment, looking me over with tears in her eyes. “Of course,” she sniffles. “Go.”

"Thank you," I whisper, slipping past her just as my parents reach the front door.

Being close with Vada’s parents, they immediately pull each other into silent, grief-stricken hugs, murmuring about what happened.

I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

I single-mindedly make my way to Vada’s room, so focused on reaching her that I don’t notice the bathroom door swinging open next to me until I stumble straight into Millie.

“S-Sorry,” I stammer, my chest tightening when I see the way her eyes widen at the sight of me.

"Y/N…” she breathes, her gaze darting to the bandage wrapped around my head.

Before I can react, she throws her arms around my waist, holding on tight.

"I'm okay," I say automatically even though I'm really not. Not even close. But I don’t know how to feel right now. I just need to see Vada.

Millie nods against my chest, still clinging to me, before slowly pulling back. She watches me, searching for some kind of reaction or reassurance, so I force a small smile and pull her in for another hug, holding her just a little longer this time.

"I promise I'm okay," I murmur, even though it feels like a lie. How's...How's Vada?"

Millie exhales shakily, shifting on her feet. "I don’t know," she admits. "She’s… quiet. She just took a bath. I’ve never seen her like this, Y/N."

The burn in my chest deepens.

I need to see her.

I nod, and luckily, Millie seems to understand.

She sighs, then steps aside and whispers, "Just go. See for yourself."

I murmur a quiet, "Thank you," and move past her, hearing our parents still murmuring in the living room as I finally reach Vada's door.

I raise my hand, knocking softly before carefully pushing it open.

The room is dimly lit by the fairy lights strung behind the headboard of the bed, their soft glow casting warm shadows along the walls, and a candle flickers on her desk, the scent faint but lingering.

But it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Vada always listens to music whenever she can, but now… there’s nothing.

Just silence.

Awful, suffocating silence.

My heart tightens when I finally spot her. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her back turned to me, wrapped only in a towel.

Her hair is twisted up into a messy bun, probably to keep it dry during her bath, but a few damp strands cling to the back of her neck. As I step closer, I notice the goosebumps along her bare skin.

“Vada?” My voice is quiet because I don't want to startle her, but she flinches anyway, her shoulders jerking slightly. She doesn’t turn around though.

I move closer, walking around the bed until I’m kneeling in front of her.

She's staring at the wall with a vacant look in her eyes. It scares me, so I slowly reach out, brushing my fingers against her knee. The warmth of my touch seems to pull her back, and her gaze shifts until she finally sees me.

Recognition floods her expression, but she still doesn’t say anything.

Her eyes flicker to the bandage around my head and to my left ear, and she stares at it for a long moment before her lips part in a silent gasp.

Her eyes fill with tears and she whimpers, and before I can react, a sob tears out of her.

It racks her entire body, her shoulders trembling violently as she breaks and I rise immediately, pulling her into my chest, my arms wrapping tightly around her as she cries quietly.

I press a kiss to the top of her head and blink rapidly when my own eyes start to sting.

I can’t believe what happened.

I can’t believe we’re here right now. We should be at school!

I hold Vada against me, feeling her clutch at my shirt and pulling me closer.

But then, she shivers, and I pull back, looking down to see that her lips are turning slightly blue.

She’s freezing.

“Let’s get you dressed, my love,” I whisper, cupping her face and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She doesn’t argue as I carefully untangle her arms from around me. I turn toward her closet, rummaging through it with one hand while pressing the other against my temple as my ear throbs.

A wave of dizziness hits me, but I push through it, focusing on her instead.

I settle on a pair of faded gray sweatpants and one of my shirts she stole ages ago before turning back around and pulling her to her feet, her movements slow and unsteady.

“Okay?” I ask gently, giving her towel a soft tug.

She nods, barely, the vacant look in her eyes returning. It makes my stomach turn, but I exhale softly and undo the towel, helping her into the warm clothes as quickly as possible.

Once she’s dressed, I wrap my arms around her again, burying my face in her hair as I let out a shaky breath.

She’s okay.

For a moment, we stand there in the middle of her room, wrapped in silence. Then, I gently guide her into bed and move the covers over us.

She doesn’t resist. Instead, she turns onto her side, pressing her back against my chest as I sling my arm around her waist, holding her close.

Then she laces our fingers together, pulling my hand up until it’s tucked under her chin before scooting back even more until there’s literally no space left between us.

She sniffs once, a final exhale escaping her lips and then her breathing evens out.

She’s asleep. She's okay and she's asleep.

I feel my own eyelids drooping as I try to stay awake after everything that’s happened, wanting to make sure she’s really okay. But exhaustion and the aftereffects of shock get the better of me, and before I know it, I fall asleep as well.

I jolt awake when Vada sits up with a strangled cry, her breath coming fast and uneven as she looks around frantically.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I sit up too, though much slower than she did, and wrap my arms around her from behind, pulling her close. I press a soft kiss to her shoulder. “You’re okay.”

She nods slowly, her breathing still ragged, but she closes her eyes and grips my forearms tightly where they rest around her stomach.

All night, she had nightmares. It broke my heart, but it also meant I barely got any sleep myself. I tried to stay awake as much as I could, watching over her so I’d be there when she woke up, but in between, I fell into a light, restless sleep.

I didn’t dream, which is probably why I didn’t have any nightmares.

Now, though, I’m exhausted, and my ear hurts worse than ever.

Vada prefers sleeping on her left side, which meant I had to sleep on mine too while holding her. Lying on my injured ear for hours must have irritated it, because now the pain is so intense, I can barely feel the left side of my face.

Even blinking makes my eye ache.

But I don’t move to grab the painkillers my parents left for me last night.

They had peeked into the room about an hour after Vada first fell asleep, quietly waking me to ask if I wanted to go home. I just shook my head and held Vada tighter.

They were hesitant to leave me at first, but then Vada’s mom stepped into the room.

She looked almost relieved when she saw Vada curled up against me. She reassured my parents that it would be okay if I stayed the night, and they finally left after she told me to come get her if I needed anything.

Vada slept through the entire conversation, which made me relax a little.

But two hours later, just as I finally drifted into another light sleep, she had her first nightmare.

“It’s okay,” I whisper again, pressing a kiss to her temple and rubbing my thumbs over her stomach. “It was just a dream.”

Vada shudders and slowly turns around in my arms. The dim morning light seeps into the room through her giant windows, casting long, golden streaks across the floor.

It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.

How ironic.

“I know, it’s just…” she trails off, her gaze darting to my ear.

She frowns, then raises a hand to my jaw and gently tilts my head to the right, studying whatever she just saw.

“Your ear,” she rasps.

I lift a hand to touch it, but the second my fingers graze the bandage, a sharp electric pain shoots through my face, making me flinch hard.

I hiss and pull my hand back, screwing my eyes shut as I try to push the pain away.

“It’s bleeding,” she says.

Before I can react, she pulls me out of bed and leads me into the bathroom, telling me to sit on the edge of the tub.

I want to protest, to tell her the nurse said some bleeding is normal, but she’s out the door before I can say anything.

As soon as she’s gone, exhaustion washes over me again, and the dizziness returns full force.

I want to check the mirror, to see what she saw, but I’m too tired, so I stay seated and wait.

I wait only a minute before Vada returns with her mom, still dressed in pajamas. Her short blonde hair is tied back into a tiny ponytail, and she wears her glasses, blinking sleepily as she steps into the bathroom.

“Oh, that doesn’t look good at all,” she murmurs when she sees me. She brushes some hair out of my face fondly before asking if she can take off the bandage to check my ear.

I nod, too tired to speak, and let her unwrap the bandage while Vada stands back, arms wrapped around herself in a tight hug, her gaze distant and unfocused.

Even though her mom is careful, I grit my teeth when she pulls the gauze away.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” she says softly.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, though my stomach sinks when I see the blood-soaked bandage as she tosses it into the trash can beside the bathtub.

She turns my head slightly, inspecting the wound before clicking her tongue and pulling out a first-aid kit from under the sink.

“Looks like some of your stitches ripped,” she says with an apologetic look. “I’ll put on a new bandage, but you should go to the hospital to get it checked out. Do you want me to call your parents?”

The thought of going to the hospital again and waking my parents this early in the morning makes my chest tighten, but I nod, letting her carefully rebandage my ear.

I know she or Vada’s dad would drive me themselves without hesitation, but I also know my parents would be upset if I didn’t tell them, so I let her call once she’s done.

At some point while she was redressing my wound, Vada left.

I frown at the empty space where she was standing, but before I can dwell on it, she returns with a glass of water and my painkillers.

She hands them over wordlessly and I thank her with a weak smile and a mumbled, "Thanks."

She doesn’t reply. She just nods before taking the empty glass and leaving again.

I don't want to be alone, I don't want her to leave, so I get up and follow her into the kitchen, where her mom is just hanging up the phone.

“Your parents are on their way, honey,” she tells me, squeezing my shoulder gently before ushering me into the living room. “Go sit on the couch and rest until they get here.”

Vada follows and sits beside me, watching me with an unreadable expression.

I hesitate before reaching for her hand, interlacing our fingers in her lap.

“Staring is rude, my love,” I try to joke, but it falls flat.

Vada barely reacts. She just hums softly and forces a small, tired smile, before resting her head on my shoulder.

I know we’re both under a lot of stress, but I expected more of a reaction from her. She always laughs at my jokes. Always.

But I understand why she’s not laughing now.

We sit in silence, the house still dark except for the dim glow of the kitchen light. Millie and Vada’s dad are still asleep.

Then, I hear a car pull into the driveway.

Vada’s mom stands immediately to greet my parents before they can ring the doorbell while I push myself up as well, my legs shaking with exhaustion.

Vada notices. “You good?”

I nod, though I don’t feel good at all. I still keep my hand in hers as we walk to the front door together.

My parents rush to me the moment they see me, concern written all over their faces, but before they can pull me outside, I turn back to Vada, cupping her face gently.

I bend down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you. I’ll talk to you later?”

She barely reacts but gives a quiet “Mhmm. Love you too,” she murmurs, closing her eyes as I kiss her forehead again.

Then my parents coax me outside.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” my mom asks in the car, pulling onto the road while my dad calls the hospital to tell them we’re coming.

“Tired,” I say honestly, though I feel so much more than that. I’m in pain, my brain is still foggy, and I can’t stop worrying about Vada.

She’s been so quiet since this morning.

And I can tell she’s pulling away.

My mom glances at me in the rearview mirror. “That’s… yeah, that’s understandable.”

I can hear the worry in her voice, she and my dad are both worried about me, but I don’t know what to tell them. And I don’t know what they could possibly say to make me feel better.

There’s nothing they can do.

Still, it’s nice that they’re trying.

Despite not being home for Christmas this year, they’ve always been the best and most supportive parents.

They never miss a track meet. They take off work for my birthday and they’ve always made me feel like I can talk to them about anything without fear of getting in trouble.

“Are you in any pain?” my dad asks once he hangs up the phone, turning in his seat to look at me.

“A little, yeah,” I admit. “But I took some painkillers before you picked me up, so it should get better soon.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

He keeps watching me for a moment before nodding, but I turn back to the window.

It’s awkward how quiet it is, but right now, I’m too tired to care. I have nothing to say.

I drift in and out of consciousness, barely aware of my surroundings. I know I’m home, in my bedroom, and for the first time since the shooting, I’m not in pain.

I don’t really remember how I got here. The last thing I recall is being at the hospital, but as the hours drag by and I slip between sleep and wakefulness, fragments of memory return.

A nurse stitched me up again.

While we waited for my discharge papers, I asked my parents what exactly happened.

They shared a look before my dad handed me his phone, showing me news footage.

One shooter. Twelve kids dead. One of them was on my track team.

After that, I don’t remember much. Just the tightness in my chest and the overwhelming certainty that I was about to die.

I remember gasping for air.

I remember a prick in my arm.

And then, nothing.

I continue drifting until I finally wake up at the sound of a knock on my door.

Groggily, I turn over and switch on my bedside lamp just as the door opens. My dad steps inside, carrying a tray.

He’s still wearing his suit from work, though his tie is loosened and the top buttons of his shirt are undone.

“Hey,” he says when he sees I’m awake. “How are you feeling? I— I made you some mac and cheese in case you’re hungry.”

A genuine, if tired, smile tugs at my lips. “Better now. Thanks. I… yeah, I could eat.”

He straightens up like he wasn’t expecting that, then hurries to my side and places the tray on my lap before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, here. Um, I also made you some tea. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s perfect, thanks.” I send him another small smile and take a bite, only now realizing how hungry I am. “Where’s Mom?”

“There was an emergency at the office, but she’ll be back soon,” he explains, patting my leg over the comforter.

“Oh, no, I hope it’s nothing bad.” I try to keep the conversation light, but my dad just waves it off.

“No, don’t worry. It’s nothing.” He hesitates, then clears his throat. “Listen… at the hospital—”

My chest tightens.

“—you kind of had a panic attack. The doctor had to sedate you.”

I blink. “Sedate me?”

“Yeah… You’ve been asleep for almost twenty hours.”

Oh.

“You could barely breathe,” he continues, voice soft. “We were afraid you would—”

I lift a hand, cutting him off before he spirals. “It’s okay, Dad.” I offer a small, tentative smile and take a sip of tea. “Best sleep I ever got.”

He exhales sharply and shakes his head. “Don’t joke about that.”

I chuckle, even though my ear throbs a little. “Sorry, I can’t help it.”

The silence that follows is comfortable, until I remember something. “Sorry for ruining your and Mom’s date night, by the way.”

“What?!” He scoffs and lightly smacks my leg over the comforter. “Why would you say that? It’s just date night. You could have died.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Yeah, but still. You both were looking forward to it. You even had a reservation at that fancy restaurant downtown.”

My dad shrugs, smiling just a little sheepishly. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you.”

A little embarrassed, I look down at my food, smiling too.

The conversation drifts into quiet as I finish eating and then, once I’m done, I take a quick shower while my dad goes downstairs to do the dishes.

My mom comes home shortly after, checking on me before I climb back into bed. I’m exhausted again because the sedative still lingers in my system, and I barely slept at Vada’s.

Speaking of Vada…

Once I’m settled under the blankets, I pull out my phone and text her, ignoring the flood of unread messages from classmates asking if I’m okay.

You (9:12 PM) Hey, I’m sorry I’m only reaching out now. I’ve been asleep most of the day. How are you? What did you do today?

It takes a couple of minutes for her to reply, longer than usual, and it makes me worry because she's usually glued to her phone, but then she answers, and that worry fades.

Vada <3 (9:14 PM) it’s okay

how r u feeling now?

i went and saw nick earlier he asked about you

Her replies are a little shorter than usual, but I brush it off. I shift under the sheets, making sure I’m not lying on my ear before replying.

You (9:15 PM) Better now, but I’m still tired.

That’s good! How’s he? I hope you had a good time.

Again, there’s a delay in her answer, but once again, I think nothing of it.

Vada <3 (9:18 PM) that’s good

get some more rest

nick’s okay we talked about what happened and he’s thinking of starting a petition or something to make sure it doesn’t happen again

You (9:18 PM) I will.

Oh really? That’s great.

My thumbs hover over the screen because I know I want to say something else, but I don’t know what.

A moment later, Vada beats me to it and when I read what she says, my stomach sinks a little.

Vada <3 (9:18 PM) i know, he really might be onto something

you should get some more rest, baby

i’ll talk to you tomorrow

I swallow dryly, not really knowing how to feel before replying.

You (9:19 PM) Yeah, you’re right.

Talk to you tomorrow.

I love you.

The three dots appear at the bottom of the screen, disappearing and reappearing several times before her reply finally comes through.

Vada <3 (9:20 PM) love you too

It’s simple, and I know she means it, but if I’m honest, I was expecting more.

I stare at my screen for a little while, waiting for her to maybe send something else, but she doesn't. I turn off my phone with a sinking feeling, and switch off my bedside lamp before rolling over to get some more sleep.

It has been four days since the shooting, and I am slowly but surely feeling better. The dizziness is gone, and the tinnitus has faded, but I am still exhausted because now, I am starting to have nightmares.

Every night, I wake up in a cold sweat, making my parents rush into my room to calm me down. I usually dream about the shooting, but not about what happened to me. Instead, I dream about Vada—how she is hiding in the bathroom or how she gets hurt right in front of me.

It leaves me breathless and shaking, so I take a cold shower each time to wake myself up and wash away the memory of the dream.

My parents told me I could stay home from school as long as I needed, which I am grateful for. The moment I brought up the idea of seeing a therapist, they immediately agreed, pulling some strings through their connections at work until they got me an appointment with one of the best therapists in LA.

That was yesterday. We did not talk much about the shooting yet, but we went over my panic attack at the hospital. Even though it was draining, it still made me feel better afterward. Talking about everything is exhausting, but I know it is going to help me in the long run.

I also finally answered all the texts I had ignored, letting people know I was fine and that I would be at Brody’s funeral. He was the guy on my track team who was killed. I knew him pretty well, though we were not exactly friends. Still, my teammates and I organized the flower arrangements for his service, which will be held tomorrow.

Over the past few days, I have been texting and calling Vada, but we have not seen each other since that first night. I have been too tired most of the time, and she was told to go back to school.

It aches, knowing she is there while I can stay home, but what hurts even more is how distant she has been.

She answers my texts and calls, but her responses are short. When I asked if I should come over last night, she told me not to because I might overwork myself.

She also keeps saying she is helping Nick organize a protest, but when I texted Nick two days ago, he said he had not seen Vada since the day after the shooting.

It makes me worry, but not because I think she might be cheating. I know she would never do that. What worries me is that she is lying, trying to keep me from realizing how much she is pulling away.

She has become a shell of the person she used to be. Millie noticed it too. She called me this morning, crying about how Vada keeps pushing her away.

I reassured her that Vada was just processing everything, and somehow, she managed to convince me to come over and make slime with her for her YouTube channel.

That is what I am doing now.

I sit in the dining room, holding the camera while Millie chats excitedly about what she is doing. Their mom watches from the kitchen, checking on us every so often with a small smile.

I thought Vada might be here too. I even hoped I could surprise her by showing up. But she is not.

Her mom said she was at Nick’s, but I know she does not believe it either as she keeps glancing at her phone and checking the time on the oven while Sunday morning inches toward eleven o’clock, and Nick is at his protest.

"Blue or red?" Millie asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I adjust my grip on the camera and straighten up. "What?"

She grins and holds up two small tubes of dye. "The slime. Blue or red?"

"Uh, red." I watch as she mixes the color into the slime, my mind still elsewhere, when Vada’s mom suddenly rushes past us toward the front door.

"Where have you been?!" Her voice is filled with relief and anger, and I immediately know who she is talking to. "You’ve been gone all night! We were worried sick about you! If you’re going to spend the night at a friend’s house, just tell us!"

"Mom." Vada groans, storming past her and through the dining room without realizing I’m here.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Her mom follows after her. "Come back here, young lady. We’re not done talking yet. Where were you? And why do you smell like a minibar? Have you been drinking?"

Vada whines, and I hear her stop in the kitchen.

Millie and I share a look. I turn off the camera, sensing the tension thickening in the house. "Maybe we should give them some privacy. How about you show me the morning routine you filmed today?"

She hesitates before nodding and getting up, ready to lead me to her room.

Their voices continue rising behind us as we walk away, but I try to ignore it. It’s none of my business, no matter how much I worry about Vada.

Then, I stop dead in my tracks.

"No, Mom! I didn’t sleep with her, it was just a kiss! We got drunk and—"

My blood turns ice cold.

"You got drunk?" Her mom's voice cuts in, completely skipping over the kiss part. "Please tell me you didn’t get drunk under some bridge or something. Do you know what could have happened if—"

"We didn’t get drunk under a bridge!" Vada snaps. "We were at her place. She has this huge house, and her parents are never home, and—"

I don’t hear the rest.

I can’t hear the rest.

She kissed someone.

She kissed someone else.

From what I’ve just heard, I can only assume it was Mia.

Mia Reed.

Nick told me Vada had been texting her since the shooting because they hid in the bathroom together, but I had no idea they were hanging out.

So this is where she has been every time she lied about being with Nick.

Millie turns to me, her face pale, panic in her eyes. She looks at me, waiting for some kind of reaction, but I can’t move.

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

Footsteps approach. My head snaps up, and then Vada steps into the hallway.

She is still arguing with her mom until she sees me.

She stops immediately.

Her face falls, the color draining from her skin as she realizes I heard everything.

"Vada, no, you can’t—" Her mom stops behind her, also noticing me and Millie.

She blinks, clearly having forgotten we were even here.

I don’t care. I can’t care.

I just stare at Vada, and she stares back at me.

It feels like my entire world just shifted, like the ground has cracked beneath my feet, but I am still standing. My hands start shaking. My heart pounds in my chest.

No.

She didn’t.

How could she?

Why would she?

"Y/N..." Vada breathes, her voice low and scratchy. She takes a step toward me, reaching out, even though she’s still several feet away.

Her voice snaps me out of my trance, and suddenly, my eyes burn with tears.

I look away, staring at the floor, trying to keep it together. When I meet her eyes again, all I see is guilt. Regret.

She takes another step forward, about to say something, but I speak before she can.

"I… should go."

"Y/N…" she tries again, but I shake my head.

I turn to Millie, who looks like she’s about to cry. She has always looked up to her sister, and now she has to witness all of this.

I swallow hard and force my voice to stay steady. "I’ll see you soon, yeah?"

Millie hesitates, glancing between me, her mom, and Vada before nodding with a small frown.

"Okay then…" I try to smile, but it barely comes through.

I turn around, not daring to meet Vada’s eyes when I brush past her.

Her mom gives me a pitiful look, but I don’t acknowledge it. My mind is already slipping into numbness as I make my way to the front door.

I slip on my shoes, the silence in the house suffocating, then open the door and step outside.

I make it to my car, hands still shaking as I unlock it, but freeze when I hear her voice again.

"Y/N, wait!"

I don’t.

She rushes down the porch steps, but I get in the car, pull the door shut, and reverse out of the driveway before she can reach me.

I can barely see the road.

My hands won’t stop trembling, my chest feels tight, and I know I can’t drive home like this.

After rounding the block, I pull over to the curb and kill the engine.

For a moment, I just sit there, staring blankly ahead.

Then, without warning, the weight of everything crashes down, and I completely break down.

So this is what rock bottom feels like. Just when I thought things were looking up a little.

_______________________________________________

💔

[kykyonthemoon]

A Surprise For Him

After more than a month of training and being apart, you unexpectedly returned to Linkon without notice to surprise him.

୨ৎ. Rafayel x Reader (MC)

୨ৎ. Tags: just pure fluff, cute and sweet, phone calls, no y/n as always

୨ৎ. Word count: ~800w

୨ৎ. Requested by Yuki

୨ৎ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic (read more for current status)

Rafayel went home with the beautiful moonlight overhead. The antique camera was slung around his neck. He gripped it in one hand while hastily searching his pocket for his phone. 

The first name that flashed on the screen was undoubtedly the girl he adored the most. He tapped the call button. One beep, two beeps, then three… He waited forever but you didn’t pick up. Rafayel regarded the phone in his fingers with a serious gaze.

You must be busy. With the new training program, the Hunters Association had sent you to another city for two months. Sixty days may not seem like much when compared to the lengthy life of a Lemurian like him, but it did not help the time pass any faster.

Rafayel missed you. He did not even try to hide it. The hour-long calls every night, the emails of encouragement every day, the pictures he took of the beautiful but empty landscape without you… He poured all his heart into them. When you get accustomed to someone's presence in your life, their absence creates an even greater void.

Putting the phone back in his pocket, Rafayel sighed and kept strolling along the lonely street. He fiddled with the camera in his palm, thinking about the photos he had taken at the festival and how he wanted to show you when you returned home. Then his phone rang. 

Rafayel picked up almost immediately.

“Where have you been, my Miss Bodyguard? It’s ten past three. What if something happened to me in those three minutes? Like… I could trip over my paintbrush and fall. Or a thief could steal those precious pictures I wanted you to see, along with my camera…”

“Rafayel!” You giggled on the other end of the phone. “I haven’t forgotten our nightly ten o’clock call.”

“Then what did you do in those three minutes?”

“I… just had some work to do.”

If you were here, you would have seen the sullen look on Rafayel’s face. But he just replied:

“No matter how much work you have, you have to rest on time.”

“I understand. Don't worry.”

You happily told him about your day. Then it was his turn to talk about the festival on the other side of the beach that he had just attended.

“…I took a lot of pictures. I should mail them to you.”

“You don't have to do that.”

Rafayel had just entered the little road leading to his studio. He was a little saddened when he heard that. You quickly added:

“Actually, I want to see the pictures with you by my side.”

"Huh? You mentioned that the facility where you were training was really secure, and I wasn't even permitted to see you," Rafayel recounted what you had said the day you had departed.

“That’s true.”

"So I have to wait another two weeks to see the photos with you?"

A few seconds of silence elapsed. You, like Rafayel, must have sensed that time was moving way too slow. Then, on the other end of the line, you spoke:

“We don’t have to wait that long. We can see them now.”

Rafayel was astonished. He asked: “How? I might not be able to find a seagull that can fly that fast to your side.”

His Miss Hunter chuckled.

"Just open the gate."

Rafayel didn't understand what you meant. However, he was already in front of the studio gate. He recalled locking it before leaving, but a little push revealed that it was wide open. While he was standing there, he heard your voice calling his name.

"Rafayel!"

He heard your call, loud and clear as if you were present and not on the phone. Then, your figure rushed forward from nowhere and your arms were thrown around his neck.

It was you. It was really you.

“Am I in a dream?” Rafayel’s lips moved. He held you tightly, spinning you around with your feet dangling a few inches off the ground. When he put you down, you said, smiling:

“My training wrapped up early. Sorry for not telling you sooner. I wanted to see this surprised face of yours so much.”

You lifted your hands and softly pinched Rafayel's cheeks. As soon as you arrived at the airport, you rushed right to his studio. You were in such a haste that your hair was a mess. Rafayel gently brushed it with his hand, then grinned.

 “Now I'd want to see how frantic you were when you raced here. That would be a sight. Let's go inside. I’ll cook something for you while you take a look at my pictures, okay?”

[lvlybin]

hello! could i request a zb1 reaction to watching a horror movie with reader? tysm!!

cw mentions of death, gore, demons, killers... the normal horror movie stuff

✉️ honestly, each of the boys are scaredy-cats and that episode of camp zerobaseone with the haunted house is further proof

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓙iwoong ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

     When you and Jiwoong have movie nights, you’re usually the one picking the movie. You’re his first priority, so whatever you want to watch, he’ll gladly watch as well. Considering how much you love him, it only makes sense that you do the same for him. That’s what you have to keep telling yourself as the horror movie he picked out plays on the large TV screen in your living room. That’s not to say you hate horror movies, but the one you were watching was definitely going to make it a bit difficult to fall asleep that night. You were a big girl, though. If Jiwoong wanted to watch a horror movie, you’d watch one with him. 

     Another jumpscare of whatever slasher is chasing the main characters occurs on the screen, making you yelp and jump a little, sending you further into Jiwoong’s arms. Thankfully, he’d been holding you since the beginning of the movie. As he laughs at your reaction, you groan. 

     “You did this to torture me,” you grumble, resting your head on his shoulder as you turn your eyes back to the movie.

     Your words pull another laugh from the dark-haired man you’re cuddled with: "I can only watch so many rom-coms, darling.” You don’t bother responding to that because, yes, you did pick rom-coms a lot, but Jiwoong never complained about them. Your eyes stay glued on the screen as this chase scene continues, only for another jumpscare to pop up. It almost frustrates you that you react to it again.

     “Jumpscares shouldn’t be allowed to be back-to-back like that…” you mumble, curling up closer to your boyfriend. 

     “Maybe we should watch more horror movies then,” Jiwoong suggests, and when you tilt your head up to look at him, his dark brown eyes are already on you. “More excuses to have you in my arms.” 

     “You know all you have to do is ask–”

      Jiwoong’s fingers gently brush against your chin, making you turn your head back to the screen. “Pay attention,” he says before pressing a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll protect you.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗ao ﹙𝔃.﹚ㅤ

     You lay back on the couch, your head in Hao’s lap as he scrolls through movie options. Tonight was supposed to be a date night for the both of you, a cute little festival that was taking place in Seoul, but unfortunately, the weather had other plans. Outside your apartment, rain poured down heavily, soft rumbles of thunder sounding out against the night sky every now and then.

     “You know what fits this weather?” you ask Hao, folding your hands on your stomach as you watch the remote flick through film options. Your boyfriend hums softly in acknowledgement, telling you that he’s listening. “A horror movie.”

     “A horror movie?”

     It was a bit out of character for you, but you were in the mood to get scared. “Yeah, why not?” The search bar on the TV is highlighted as Hao begins to search for that specific genre. 

     “Any specific one?”

     You shake your head against his lap. “You pick.”

     Hao sighs softly above you, his free hand moving to play with your hair while he reads through the descriptions of the films. Finally, after much deliberation, he settles on a horror movie to watch. Only to talk the whole time. Not that you minded; you thought it was adorable how your boyfriend just had to share every thought and opinion he had while you both spent some quality time together. Not to mention, every little thing that Hao said was extremely entertaining. But to say the least, it made the movie much less scary.

     “That doesn’t even look like real blood,” Hao says, his voice slightly muffled against your shirt. You’d both settled down after selecting which movie to watch, and your boyfriend had fallen into your side, resting his head against your chest while he kept the blanket pulled up around you both.

      “I would hope it’s not real blood.”

“Well, obviously, but it takes away from really immersing the viewers in the story…” he trails off, and you can hear the pout in his voice. He’s silent for a moment, enjoying the way your hands play with the fluffy strands of his hair, until one of the characters meets their end. Instead of jumping or getting scared like he’s supposed to though, Hao furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “Please, this doesn’t even make any sense…”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗anbin ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

     “Ahh, I can’t look!” Hanbin’s hand flies over his eyes again, and you scramble to pull it away. Your boyfriend’s reactions were always the best to see, he was the most animated person you knew, so you’d had the brilliant idea to watch a horror movie with him. You just didn’t anticipate how scared he would get. When you manage to pry his hand away from his eyes, he’s quick to cover them again with his other hand.

     “Hanbin!” you cry out, the movie forgotten as you giggle at your boyfriend. “Bin… If you don’t want to watch this, we don’t have to.” 

     At your words, he’s quick to uncover his eyes, looking at you with his warm, brown irises. “No, no, I want to watch.”

     “I don’t want you to be so scared to the point where you’re not watching,” you say, still smiling a little at how cute this man can be. Hanbin’s quick to shake his head, instead leaning into your side. The sheets of your bed are pulled up tightly around you both, making you feel cozy despite the scary movie that’s playing on the TV in your bedroom. 

     Hanbin, even though he has amazingly obvious reactions, is good at hiding things. When his lips lift in the corners a little, you know that he’s been faking being overly scared. “I won’t be scared if you hold me…” You fight the urge to laugh.

     “You’re something else, Sung Hanbin.” But still, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, the comforting weight of his body settling over yours. You both are quiet for a moment, focused on the movie as the music sets the mood of suspense. “You’d tell me if you were actually scared, though, right?”

     “Who says I’m not scared?” 

     “Hanbinnn–” He cuts you off with a fake little scream as a jumpscare occurs on the screen. He turns to look at you, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted just a bit. He’s still pretending to be scared.

     “See? I’m terrified,” he says, an adorable pout on his lips as he tilts his head back to the movie. “Which means you need to hold me.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓜atthew ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

     In your hand, you have two tickets to the most recent horror movie that has been released. The other one of your arms is linked with Matthew’s as the two of you walk through the hallways of the movie theater, trying to find the theater for your designated showing time. “You excited?” Matthew asked, cradling the bucket of popcorn you’d be sharing in his free arm. 

     He’d been talking about going to see this movie since it’d come out, and it only made sense for you to go with him. He was definitely more excited to see the horror movie than you were, though. “As long as there’s no gore, I think I’ll be fine.”

     “It’s not supposed to be too gore-y, more of a psychological thriller.”

     Matthew reaches for the door of the theater, letting you inside the dark room first before following you inside. You quickly find your seats, lifting the arm between the chairs so you can cuddle into your boyfriend’s side. “If you’re excited, I’m excited,” you say softly into the mostly empty room. The two of you had decided to go later at night so there would be fewer people in the theater. 

     The movie eventually starts as you and Matthew share the popcorn, and you surprisingly find yourself getting into the movie more and more as it continues. Sure, some moments freak you out a little and cause you to lean into Matthew’s side, but overall, you find yourself enjoying the film. When you glance over at Matthew, he seems to be enjoying it too. There isn’t a hint of fear on his face, though.

     As expected, when the two of you leave the theater, he’s quick to gush about how good the movie was. You listen as your boyfriend praises each of the plot lines and the acting, even talking a little bit about the cinematography.

     “Since when are you such a movie buff?” you ask him as the cool night air hits your face.

     Matthew shrugs as one of his arms wraps around your shoulders, “I can appreciate art when I see it.” When you look at him, he’s suggestively looking back at you, making you laugh. “My only critique, though, was that it could’ve been scarier–”

     “It was plenty scary, Matt.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓣aerae ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

     The two of you are curled up around each other as you sit on your couch. All of the lights in your living room are off as the horror movie plays on the screen. Your best friend had recommended that you watch this movie, but so far, you hated it. And it seemed like your boyfriend would agree with you. 

      Another yelp leaves you both as the slasher catches up to one of the characters. Taerae’s hands grip your shirt tightly as you tuck your face into his neck. After the initial fear wears off, the two of you laugh. “I’m glad you’re as scared of these movies as I am,” Taerae sighs as you slowly look at the screen again. Thankfully, you’d missed whatever death scene had just played. 

     “We’re both wimps,” you joke as Taerae sucks in a breath between his teeth when one of the characters trips and falls. 

     “At least we’re trying.”

     You both chuckle softly at Taerae’s words, “Is it trying if we look away during every scary part?” 

     “Definitely,” Taerae mumbles as he squeezes your sides. “Just never make me watch one of these again.”

     Both of you continue watching, almost unable to look away again as the chase scene plays out. “Do you think you would survive this?” you ask your boyfriend in an attempt to distract the both of you from the building suspense and continuous jumpscares. Taerae shakes his head, slightly ruffling your hair since his cheek is pressed against your head.

     “No. I’m not agile enough to run for this long through a forest.” He pauses as there’s a slight pause in the build-up of the movie, subconsciously pressing himself closer to your side. “I don’t understand how they haven’t been caught yet.”

     “Plot armor,” you reply, pulling the blanket further up around the two of you like a shield from the fictional killer. Both of you watch, on edge, as the characters scramble to get to safety only as the slasher appears out of nowhere again. Taerae’s cry of surprise blends with the screams from the characters as he falls for another jumpscare. You hear him huff before he shifts a little, grabs the remote, and abruptly turns the movie off.

     “We can finish it when it’s not nighttime.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓡icky ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

     It almost annoys you how unaffected Ricky is by the horror movie you’re watching. Usually, you don’t have a problem with the genre, but something about this movie was really freaking you out. But your boyfriend is unaffected as ever. Like he’s watching a lighthearted comedy instead of a horror movie focusing on a demon. 

     Ricky simply sits on the couch with you, an arm over your shoulders as he keeps you snug against his side. He doesn’t react to any of the jumpscares, doesn’t cover his eyes when the horrifying monster appears on screen or when there are moments of gore. At least he doesn’t make fun of you for falling for those scary moments. 

     It’s late at night when the credits roll, and you’re wondering how you’re going to sleep.

     “Time for bed?” Ricky asks as he turns the TV off. You sit there for a moment; the living room is mostly dark now without the light of the TV. Your boyfriend tilts his head towards you after you’re quiet for a few beats of his heart. “You okay?”

     “Did that movie not scare you?”

     Ricky shrugs as he turns to face you even more, pulling you into his arms, your head resting against his chest, “It’s not real, YN, I remind myself of that.”

     You huff, inhaling the smell of his cologne and the laundry detergent the two of you use. It’s comforting. “It’s still scary.” You feel him smile against your hair before he presses a soft peck to the top of your head.

     “Scary?” Ricky’s voice has a teasing tone. “Are you scared?”

     You grumble against the fabric of his shirt, causing Ricky to let out a small chuckle. He kisses your head again. “I don’t think you’d protect me against a monster like that,” you mumble.

      Ricky lets out a mock-offended gasp, “You have that little faith in me?”

      You bite back a laugh. “You’d save yourself first–”

      “With that much doubt in your loving, caring boyfriend, maybe you deserve it.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖yuvin ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

     Gyuvin usually had large reactions to things. Mostly with his words, but with his body as well. You’d known that even before you’d started dating him, and you’d thought it was charming. But in moments like these, it made it difficult for you to focus. Another jumpscare pops up on your TV screen, and in response, Gyuvin is throwing himself over your lap. Maybe it’s an attempt to look away from the scene, but it seemed like more of an excuse for him to lay on you.

     “Gyu,” you manage to get out, his arms squeezing your middle tightly, “Gyu, I can’t see.” And you really can’t, not with his shoulder blocking the TV from how he’s curled himself over your body. Sometimes, he reminds you of a puppy who doesn’t realize how big it is. Reluctantly, Gyuvin pulls away from you, settling back into the bed next to you.

     He sighs. It’s rare for him to be able to sit through an entire movie, but you had already begun watching this horror movie before Gyuvin came into your bedroom. So really, you weren’t watching it together; he’d simply joined you about halfway through. And now, he was trying to get your attention.

     “Wait, who’s this guy again?” Gyuvin asks as one of the main characters appears on the screen. Currently, the main characters were beginning some kind of investigation in their house that was quite obviously haunted. 

      You sigh. “Do you want me to start the movie over?”

      Gyuvin grins, but he shakes his head. “You’re already so far along. I’ll just look up the plot so I can catch up…” 

      So, you continue watching the movie while your boyfriend pulls out his phone to search up the Wikipedia page of the movie. After a moment, you hear him gasp. “What?” you ask, slightly worried at his sudden reaction. And before you can stop him, the ending of the movie is spilling out of his mouth.

      “Gyuvinnn,” you groan, going to pause the movie. There was no point in finishing it now, not when your boyfriend just spoiled the ending.

      “Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t look that sorry. Not with the way he’s smiling. Gyuvin didn’t mind watching horror movies, but he would much rather have all of your attention on him.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖unwook ﹙𝓹.﹚

     Your eyes drooped from exhaustion as you cuddled with Gunwook. It was normal for you to feel sleepy after only a few moments of lying with your boyfriend, his warm body and strong arms making you feel safe enough to begin to feel drowsy. Tonight, though, it’d been barely thirty minutes since Gunwook had arrived, and you falling asleep wasn’t going to do. 

     “YNie,” Gunwook says gently, rubbing your arm a little to try and get you to wake up. “Let’s watch a movie, hmm?”

     When he’d said that, you expected him to put on something funny or one of the shows you’d begun watching together. But no, Gunwook decided to put on one of the scariest movies he could find. Suddenly, you weren’t feeling sleepy at all. You hadn’t moved from your spot against his side, but now, you were scared to close your eyes in fear of the monster that was terrorizing the characters appearing behind your eyelids.

     Gunwook didn’t seem bothered, though. He was definitely enjoying the movie, judging by the way his eyes were glued to the screen. It was hard to scare Gunwook with a film because he would never picture himself in place of the characters. Therefore, he found them more entertaining than scary. You bury your face into his neck. You would try to fall back asleep again if it weren’t for the movie playing in the background with the music that only added to the horror element. 

     The sound of one of the characters screaming has you looking back at the TV that Gunwook is so entertained by. It was almost envy-worthy how by the time the movie’s over, your boyfriend is still perfectly fine as if he hadn’t watched the same terrifying movie as you. You press your face into his neck again.

     “Wook,” you mumble against his skin, “Why’d we watch something so scary?”

     “Needed to wake you up somehow,” he chuckles.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓨ujin ﹙𝓱. ﹚ㅤ

     Yujin hated scary movies. After watching one, it would be the only thing on his mind for the rest of the week, especially if he was in the dark. However, after talking with his Gyuvin-hyung, Yujin was convinced that a horror movie would be the best way to get you to cuddle with him for the first time. But he was seriously starting to regret going to his hyung for advice.

     The horror movie plays on screen while Yujin and you share a blanket, only your knees brushing. Honestly, Yujin’s afraid to look away from the screen in fear of the demon terrorizing the characters somehow getting out of the TV while he’s not looking. That, and you still don’t seem scared. He could put himself through this torture for you, though. Or at least, in hopes of getting some cuddles from you. 

     But it doesn’t seem like you’re going to get scared any time soon. Unlike him, you seem like you’re genuinely enjoying the movie. Even if you do have a few jumps every now and then, they aren’t into Yujin’s arms. This wasn’t anything like Gyuvin said it would be. You can do this, Yujin has to remind himself not to turn off the movie. And when you glance over at him, Yujin still can’t pull his eyes away from the screen. It’s like he can feel the concern grow in your eyes.

     “Yujin? Are you okay?”

     He makes a small sound that’s almost a whimper as another jumpscare happens on the screen. “Y-yeah, I’m great,” he manages to get out. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your brows furrow. 

     “Are you sure? You look… terrified.”

     His heart drops, and a little bit of panic goes through him. What would you think of him if you knew he was scared because of a horror movie? Yujin swallows harshly as he gathers the courage to finally meet your eyes. “Can I be honest?” You nod your head in encouragement. “I only put on a horror movie so you would… um, cuddle with me.” 

     The last part is rushed and quiet, so you lean a little closer. “Huh?”

     Yujin’s face warms, “I only put on a horror movie so maybe you would get scared and have me comfort you and we would, you know, cuddle.”

      Your heart softens at his words as the corners of your mouth lift into a smile. “Well,” you say as you lean into your side, “Maybe I can comfort you with some cuddles since you’re the one who’s scared.”

[luv-again]

What are some pet names Shadow would use for Amy? I just cannot get the scene of Wreck It Ralph out of my head where he calls her a “dynamite girl”.

firstly, oops, sorry it took a little while to get around to this ! i have such a bad habit around leaving responses in my drafts for forever and a day </3 secondly, hi, yay, i love asks ! but oh NO you've just enabled me to yap and i am SO sorry in advance for the length of this response ;-; i'll put it in a dropdown so i'm not assaulting everyone's dashes

buckle in, it's blabbing time

i'm of the firm belief that if you can convince me shadow would say [ xyz pet name ] within a certain context, then i can believe it. my bud, @sadgirlz-lovemoney, does this brilliantly in her fic, ballads for the gallows, where shadow is insistent on calling amy "troublemaker", based on the fic's proceedings and their attitudes/personalities. to me, that's the perfect way to implement terms of endearment !! you gotta set the stage before hitting the audience with it — it's all contextual and more importantly, it rides on how natural it comes off

"dynamite girl" is so fun 😭 i think i vaguely remember this scene ?? and i think shadow would absolutely call amy something within the same vein ! something pertaining to her abilities or overall nature ? i'm a sucker for shadow admiring the qualities about her that no one else will openly recognise (so much so, i wrote a whole piece on him doting on her like this. i am both guilty and biased)

as much as i have learned to accept the charming, almost honorific-like term of endearment that shadow applies by regarding to amy as 'rose' (i actually used to abhor it, but i adore it when it's applied in the right way. i love the use of her given name more - but that's a whole other thing for a WHOLE different discussion lmao), i always like to resort to referring to her differently in my pieces. out of exploration, mostly, but it never seems to be a pet name of sorts ??

when i don't write shadow referring to amy by her given name — you know what ? i'm going to be honest, i normally don't. just because all my interpretations of him so far have been either pre-relationship and/or unsettled with the idea of giving pet names at the time. BUT. if i were to, here's what i reckon :

'my love'. simple, timeless. shadow doesn't muck about and if he's comfortable with announcing to amy or anyone else that she's the subject of his adoration, that'd have to be one in his repertoire. it's boring, i know, but to me, shadow is a little boring. in an endearing way

^^ by extension, 'beloved'

going through a search of my pieces, i did in fact find one where he does apply the former pet name ! as a tease, but it still made an appearance !

— dusk, or eventide

as for an extensive list, i am so so garbage with churning my brain for further ideas, they normally crop up on a whim. but in a basic sense, those are best fit. at least to me, in good faith to my interpretation of shadow, anyway. i know others in the community have far more clever ones out there; i just rely on one failing brain cell to do all the heavy lifting for me lmao (and it does me no justice, i'm afraid)

furthermore, on the point of not using pet names too often, i come to my next (unnecessary) point of discussion : how i do represent amy through shadow's eyes

a lot of how i perceive shadow's view of amy comes down to my previous statement of admiration. he admires and respects amy for all that she can do and all that she is. i like her actions and her bearing to speak for her more than superficial things like the pigment of her fur or the colour of her eyes. and if i DO mention that (most likely the latter because i am an 'eyes are the window to the soul' believer), there's something attached, whether that be a feeling evoked by them or a deeper concept they play testament to

let me nab some extracts from some of my pieces :

— the kiss...?

— three words, three syllables

it'd take me a ton more time to pick out more features/metaphors i've used in regards to amy (especially in three words, three syllables, since that's all the piece is full of), but i can be sure to say i love — not quite the sun/moon dynamic trope — to liken amy to the sun because i think it's a beautiful way to encompass all her attributes. she is warm, but she can burn. she can glow, but she can blind. amy is unapologetic in both her love and her malice, and that's what i love about her character. so by extension, so does shadow. he wouldn't change her for anything. if you can draw a handful of pet names from that one, be my guest hehe

i think i personally prefer to remain poetic, vague, or unspoken when i write for shadow, hence the severe drought that is the pet name scene in my neck of the woods lmao

this post went off on such a wild tangent, i'm so sorry. i'm as verbose as they come once you get me started on something </3

nevertheless, thank you for the ask !! i really enjoy prompted shadamy yaps hehe

[elixirfromthestars]

This is my first time reading for Billy, and Janie I think you may have awakened a new little crush for me 🤭💗 The banter and the tension had me hooked the entire time!! 👀✨ He’s so charming in his own like brooding and mysterious way, and I am so here for it!! 🥰

More under the cut ᯓᡣ𐭩

Instead of being seated in his second floor office overlooking the main part of the warehouse, you're standing in the basement dressed in your crisp white blouse, hastily pressed pencil skirt, and low heels.

^ In the basement?? 😳 Should I be nervous? Worried? 👀

"Russo?"

"Hm?" He hums distractedly. "Are those knives?"

^ A basement and knives…okay now I am a little nervous 😅

He leans his hands on the table, shamelessly giving you a slow and careful once over before he frowns a little. "You're gonna have to change."

^ why…? 🤨 sir….what are you up to??? 😳😅

"Then what am I doing here, Lieutenant?" Whoops. His head snaps up again, his already sunless eyes getting darker by the second. Without breaking the intense eye contact, he just gestures around the room as though it's oh so obvious. "Self-defence training."

^ Oh, I see now 👀 Well, color me intrigued, sir 🤭 (and we should definitely go change for this 💀)

"Aw, don't be scared," Billy chuckles and pats you on the shoulder, watching with those hawkish eyes of his as you consider your options. "This is a safe space." Is it though?

^ I have the same question my lovely protagonist, because while this man is devilishly handsome….I am still a bit cautious of him 👀

"I am training you. And you're not ready for guns yet," Billy grins when you unsheathe the dagger, eyes widening just a fraction at the way the blade glints in the light. "Sides, picturin' you with a knife is way hotter. You gonna wear a thigh holster?"

^ Not the shameless flirting 🤭💗 Stoooop it 🤭💕

You flick the tip of the blade in his direction, "Watch it, Russo. I'm armed." But he just laughs, a sound that comes with a dangerous surge of pride in your chest, "That's not how you hold a dagger."

"Oh, shut up," you bristle, cheeks warming and trying not to watch, enraptured, as he stands up to his full height, his boots thumping heavily on the concrete. "Careful," he warns, but he sounds more amused than offended as he closes the distance between you in just a few small strides. "You'd better play nice if you still want that interview."

^ I love these two 😂🩷 Their banter is so good, and it gives us such a nice look into the chemistry that’s building between them 🥰 I can tell he cares about her in his own way, even if he has difficulty fully showing it. 🥺

Even without looking back, you feel his dark obsidian gaze on the still healing bruise that's formed on the side of your face. His fingers tighten around yours, there's a slight hitch in his breath you can feel with his chest pressed to your back, and the hand on your hip slides forward and around to your other side in an almost embrace. Protective, possessive, and maybe even a little petrified.

^ I picked out this paragraph, but the whole section where the tension just builds from his proximity to her had me on the edge of my seat!! 💗💗 I kept wondering how far he’d take it since he was so close to her 👀💕 It’s one thing to keep his feelings at bay or controlled from a distance, but having her right there in his arms?? 👀💖

"I need to see where you're at first before I can teach you, darlin, he's still smirking, half condescending and half amused, and your hands twitch to fling the knife at his stupid head. "I'm at nowhere! I've got nothing! And you don't even have a weapon, I could slice your damn face off!" Or worse, scar it. Billy laughs again, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. "Oh, sweetheart, you can certainly try."

^ Did I already mention I love these two? 😂🩷 I just adore their banter so much, there’s something about their dynamic that hooks me in and makes me want to see how far they’ll take it until one of them cracks and goes all in 👀💖💖

Janie, thank you so much for participating in my writing challenge with this wonderful submission!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 You’ve brought this man to my attention, and I fear I may need to read more of him 😂🩷🩷 (as if I already don’t have a long list of fics in my to be read to read 💀) This was such a fun read, and I loved seeing how you took the prompt and made it all your own!! 🩷🩷

SOME TYPE OF SKIN.

PAIRING — billy russo x reporter f!reader

CONTENTS — ficlet; fluff; tiny bit of angst if you squint really, really hard; a dash of pining; references to some canon-typical violence; some very mild innuendo.

SUMMARY — after a harrowing experience, billy surprisingly takes the matter of your personal safety into his very own hands.

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

NOTES — so I decided to write something short and fun for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge and honestly, i’m not 100% satisfied with this (when am i ever tho?) but also trying not to overthink this too much. please excuse me while I continue to scream into the void about this stupidly beautiful man. I apologize in advance for the person I have been and am going to be for the next few weeks; ben barnes has such a firm grip on my fucking throat lmao 🤭

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

When he asked you to meet him here at Anvil headquarters so you could finally interview him for that story in the Bulletin, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting. 

Instead of being seated in his second floor office overlooking the main part of the warehouse, you’re standing in the basement dressed in your crisp white blouse, hastily pressed pencil skirt, and low heels. You toy with the press pass hanging around your neck, unsure what to do with your hands. 

Your interview subject, however, seems quite relaxed save for the slight wrinkle between his dark brows as he very deliberately lays out several objects on a table in the middle of the room. He’s switched out his usual sharp business attire for a green pullover that looks soft to the touch, dark cargo pants, and a pair of combat boots. 

It takes you a few seconds to find your voice, because does he have to recline against the damn thing like that? He looks tall and lean, but damn it when he’s like this, showing off the corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, you cannot doubt that he’s an ex-Marine. 

“Russo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly. 

“Are those knives?” 

Well, that gets his attention. He lifts his head and finally makes direct eye contact, and a shiver shoots down your spine. 

“Yeah, they are,” he confirms casually, as if you’ve just asked him if the sky is blue. He leans his hands on the table, shamelessly giving you a slow and careful once over before he frowns a little. “You’re gonna have to change.” 

“I feel compelled to tell you Karen knows I’m here,” you say quickly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow when he just chuckles like you’ve said something adorably funny. “Also, I thought we were doing an interview?” 

Billy Russo stares expectantly at you for a few seconds, lips slowly turning upward into a mysterious smile that you know has captured hearts all over the city. 

But you won’t fall for that, will you? 

Nope. Not in the slightest. 

“Nah, not yet anyway. Sorry, darlin’.” 

Ignore that! You scream mentally, but your brain does not cooperate. “Then what am I doing here, Lieutenant?” 

Whoops. His head snaps up again, his already sunless eyes getting darker by the second. Without breaking the intense eye contact, he just gestures around the room as though it’s oh so obvious. 

“Self-defence training.” 

“And why would I need—ugh, I don’t have time for this, Billy.” You heave a sigh, dropping all pretenses now, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

You’ve always known that Billy marches to the beat of his own drum, ever since the two of you met when Karen introduced you a few months ago while you were researching for a story about army veterans—a friend of a friend’s, she’d said, but never elaborated—but this seems excessive. 

“You wouldn’t have come if I were honest,” he says, his smile falling away in an instant, the glint of amusement in his eyes disappearing like smoke in the wind. “I don’t need to remind you of the… unpleasantness that happened last week.” 

“And yet here we are,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m fine.” 

“You were attacked,” Billy corrects, walking around the table to perch himself on the edge closest to you. You roll your eyes; as if you’ve forgotten. Getting ambushed in front of your apartment by two masked assailants isn’t exactly an easy thing to forget. 

“Everything worked out, didn’t it?” You uncross your arms and saunter over to the table, ignoring the heavy weight of his gaze on you. And it really had! 

Just as one of your would-be kidnappers, whatever it was they wanted, hit you in the face in retaliation for you kicking him in the shins and biting the other on the arm, your neighbour had come out of the apartment building just in time and began screaming bloody murder. They had no choice but to drop you and run, leaving you dishevelled and bruised, but otherwise fine, on the sidewalk. 

“They could come back,” Billy points out, since they obviously didn’t get what they’d come for, the same thing the police had said when they arrived just minutes later. You didn’t think much of it, though. Karen had had her fair share of run-ins with such undesirables, and she assured that this just meant you were pushing precisely the right buttons as a reporter. 

Even so, she still urged you to call Billy for protection.

You wonder if he gets all of his clients to undergo this self-defence training, or if he always personally offers to instruct them.

“Can’t guarantee it won’t happen again,” Billy doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. The two of you stare for a moment, engaging in a silent battle of wits that you, of course, end up losing when you’re the first to look away. He nods at the various knives and daggers strewn across the table. “C’mon, pick one and we’ll start small.” 

“Small?” You squeak as you eye the particularly ornate handle on one of the knives that honestly looks more like a short sword. 

“Aw, don’t be scared,” Billy chuckles and pats you on the shoulder, watching with those hawkish eyes of his as you consider your options. “This is a safe space.” 

Is it though? You wonder as you pick up a small dagger closest to you. “Wouldn’t guns make more sense since I’m not exactly trained in hand to hand combat?” 

“I am training you. And you’re not ready for guns yet,” Billy grins when you unsheathe the dagger, eyes widening just a fraction at the way the blade glints in the light. “‘Sides, picturin’ you with a knife is way hotter. You gonna wear a thigh holster?” 

You flick the tip of the blade in his direction, “Watch it, Russo. I’m armed.” 

But he just laughs, a sound that comes with a dangerous surge of pride in your chest, “That’s not how you hold a dagger.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you bristle, cheeks warming and trying not to watch, enraptured, as he stands up to his full height, his boots thumping heavily on the concrete. 

“Careful,” he warns, but he sounds more amused than offended as he closes the distance between you in just a few small strides. “You’d better play nice if you still want that interview.” 

But there’s nothing professional about the way he steps behind you, the way his arms pull you back against his chest, or the way his hand lands on yours to adjust your grip on the dagger’s handle. 

“Not all of us can be badass ex-Marines, can we?” It takes everything you have not to stammer, not to gulp nervously when you feel the calloused ridge of his trigger finger caressing the same spot on your own hand. 

“Yeah, well, I believe in you,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as his free hand comes down to rest on your hip, warm and heavy as it guides you slowly into a proper stance. “Bend your knees a little.” 

“Pretty sure I hired you so I wouldn’t have to take matters into my own hands like this,” you huff in annoyance, grumbling but following his instructions anyway, feeling a bit silly doing this in your work clothes. He never did give you a chance to change. 

“Please, you couldn’t afford me,” Billy murmurs so low against your ear that it sends a shiver down the side of your neck, all the way to a certain part of your anatomy you refuse to acknowledge at the moment, his beard slightly rough against your cheek. Is he doing this on purpose? “Also, did you technically hire me if I’m doing this pro bono?”

“Yeah, and on that note,” you grow bold when he squeezes your hip in encouragement, leaning back against him with your arm extended, your hands joined together, the tip of the dagger’s blade angled upward at an imaginary assailant. “Why are you? The Billy Russo I know never works for free.” 

You see, you know precisely the kind of man Billy is. He would never invest this kind of time and energy into something like this, not unless he had something to gain from it—

Even without looking back, you feel his dark obsidian gaze on the still healing bruise that’s formed on the side of your face. His fingers tighten around yours, there’s a slight hitch in his breath you can feel with his chest pressed to your back, and the hand on your hip slides forward and around to your other side in an almost embrace. Protective, possessive, and maybe even a little petrified.

—or unless he had some type of skin in the game. 

And suddenly, despite the way you’re dressed and your hilarious lack of experience, you start to feel pretty invincible. You allow yourself a proud grin, squaring your shoulders so you stand a little taller in his arms.

They fall instantly, however, when Billy steps away and moves to stand directly in front of you. You feel immensely colder at the loss of proximity. 

“Alright, let’s see what you got,” he’s smirking again, all that vulnerability and whatever warmth you sensed in his body language once again hidden away behind a layer of arrogance and swagger. He beckons you with a come here gesture of his hand. 

“What?” You blink. 

“I’ve just broken into your apartment,” he states matter-of factly, “what do you do?” He coaxes you again with another wave.

“But wait!” You almost shriek, your bout of confidence once again faltering. “You didn’t even teach me anything yet!” 

“I need to see where you’re at first before I can teach you, darlin’,” he’s still smirking, half condescending and half amused, and your hands twitch to fling the knife at his stupid head.

“I’m at nowhere! I’ve got nothing! And you don’t even have a weapon, I could slice your damn face off!” Or worse, scar it. 

Billy laughs again, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. “Oh, sweetheart, you can certainly try.” 

fin.

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[anotherfanaccount]

Fitting like missing puzzle pieces....

Navigating through life together.......

Always there for each other......

Bringing the best out of each other.....

[lilacerull0]

everyone talks themselves into a life that suits them best

[anika-ann]

It's heeeeere😍😍

Alright, alright. First let me say I already love it, even if you're breaking my heart🥺 then again the gorgeous art clued me on that.

If he had a partner maybe this wouldn't be so bad? Maybe people wouldn't constantly come up to talk to him because he'd be dancing himself, someone in his arms, looking at him lovingly...

Oh the opening is already so sad🥺 but I live for the longing for a partner and it's so understandable he'd like someone to share both joy and the recently found burden with🥺

They look cold, although he has a smile plastered on his face. Fake niceties like Steve has grown used to.

OUCH. But also yes, that's probably how it is with many people for him now😭

"Black isn't really your colour." Steve's brows furrow. What was that supposed to mean? "You know many families waited for the old crone to finally step down and let you be the king. Women shouldn't hold that much power, especially when there's no king at her side to keep her in check."

I really went from wow that's rude to THE F*** DID YOU JUST SAY-

"Whatever deal you're referring to will not stand with today's laws. So you can stop badmouthing my mom and trying to get me to marry your desperate granddaughter now." Steve spits.

#proud in fact, even if the crazy deal holds, he really should stop badmouthing the saint Sarah Rogers the former QUEEN mind you- but also if the grandfather throws Steve's words about reader on her later on I will throw hands☹

He wishes she was here... That he wouldn't need to mourn her so publicly while also keeping his tears in to not seem weak. He wishes he could wear the dark blue suits she got for him because according to her that's the colour he looks the most handsome in. He wishes she could brush his hair out of his face one more time. Just once more with that sweet smile that was reserved for him only.

MISS MA'AM HOW DARE YOU to portray his grief so well, missing his wonderful ma' in big things and small ones 🥺 (not to mention the ENDING, don't get me started)

How you wish you had someone to share a seat with... to share a life with. You wouldn't have a stranger next to you. You'd have a partner. You could cuddle and mind your own business at the same time... or play a game? Would you get upset at them winning Uno? Or would you love them too much to get frustrated?

Oh I adore how her longing mirrors his. That gives me a bit of hope🥰

"You visit your family that you never see and you show up dressed like some slob. You could wear something nice every now and then." (...) You greet everyone and listen to your siblings' judgments until your grandpa stops them.

They do not deserve her, period😤

"Well I recently met the young man and reminded him of this deal. He's more than eager to fulfill it and marry you. He'll collect you and bring you to Brooken tomorrow." He squeezes your arm, a smile plastered on his face. You can't do anything but stare at him and then burst out in laughter. They were messing with you. Or playing along with your grandpa's dementia... But no one else was laughing.

Love her reaction. Fuck the grandfather's lying ass.

“It's not all that bad… at least he's handsome!” Your friend tries to reason. “Plus you'd be a queen! No more shitty job that doesn't pay you enough. You'd live in a castle and wear pretty dresses.” She offers and is met with a heavy sigh.

The friend spitting facts 🤌

“Yeah that's great but at what cost? My freedom. I really love my one bedroom apartment. You know why? Because it's mine. I can do what I want."

Yeah this makes me super sad for her, because she broke away once from her shitty family to be free and now she's wrestled into their claws again AND a marriage.

“Who knows maybe your family had blackmail material on the royals.”

"Dating must be hard when you're a king.”

“Listen, I gotta go… but give it a chance? And if he's an asshole and you need out, you text me and we'll come to break you out ok?”

...again though, love her friend saying the real things🤭 and her standing her side. #friendshipgoals

Your eyes fall on the monstrosity of dress your mother picked out for you. Maybe if you truly wore that pink pile of whatever the seamstress had left over, he'd run for the hills and you'd still be free.

😂😂 I'm sorry😂😂 good for her, save some of her spite. But that also makes me wonder if Steve will think she's trying too hard and will think she really is desperate to marry him even if she is only forced to do it too🥺

Oh the feels😭 can't wait for you to murder my heart with next chapter🥲

Not the game they play

Steve Rogers x reader

Words: 4.1k

Summary: An arranged marriage flips your life upside down. What you thought you knew about your family doesn't seem to be true at all. How will Steve and you navigate your life together?

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, a swear word here and there, insulting of Sarah Rogers, yes that needed to be a warning, difficult family relationship, if I missed anything please let me know

A/N: This is the first part of a series. I had this idea for over two years with some scenes already written out or well thought through. Thank you all for encouraging me to finally do something with it. But don't come for me, you wanted this!

I promised to tag the lovely @ronearoundblindly 🩷

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Chapter One - Cannot stop the rain

The constant bustle of people and their conversations were a white noise like no other. One you can't concentrate on too long, especially when you have to hold conversation with whoever thought it was his turn to smooze a king.

Steve hates galas. He hates the pretentiousness that came with them and the people who attended but most of all he hates that he had no choice but to go. A king missing one of these was only excused when a serious matter arose. And those don't come by easily when you need them. He yearned for the times when he didn't need to attend these things, back when his mom still was the reigning queen and shielded him from this world. But with his mom gone he had to step up.

Gone where the days he travelled the world, studied art and made new friends. So easily replaced with duty and grief... and a stupid crown on his head. He was lucky enough he could hire his friends as staff, lucky enough his oldest friend was his right hand man and never left him alone for too long. James Bucky Barnes, his childhood defender, his best friend, his right hand and occasionally, much to Steve's dismay, his wingman. If only that would have worked out already. He seems to be casually watching people dance but in reality he watches the couples spend quality time together at a stuck up event. If he had a partner maybe this wouldn't be so bad? Maybe people wouldn't constantly come up to talk to him because he'd be dancing himself, someone in his arms, looking at him lovingly...

"Senator Lee is coming up next" a smooth voice mumbles over his shoulder, Sam Wilson. A friend he found in college, a politics major and his chief of staff. Steves eyes find the older gentleman approaching him. He's talked with him before, quite often actually, and he was always so kind and encouraging.

The small talk with senator Lee went by faster than Steve anticipated. Before the next person could swoop in to talk to him he excused himself to the restroom. Bucky, his honorary security detail for the evening since he refused to take his actual one, made to follow him. "It's just the bathroom Buck. I'll be fine and I'll come straight back here." he says lowly, his eyes rolling at the antics. He didn't need this much security before he became a king. Bucky hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to Sam who looks a bit unsure himself. "I mean... It's just the bathroom... No danger there. Nat wouldn't go inside with him either right?" Steve lets out a sigh at Sam's statement. Natasha, the head of security, ruled with an iron fist. She had all of them so scared they wouldn't dare to disobey her orders... except maybe her husband Clint but he got free passes for life.

"Right... Just come right back here?" Bucky looks at him and with a sigh and a nod Steve agrees. Before they can say anything else and before whatever lady just seems to approach them can start to talk, Steve hurries to the restroom. He locks himself in a cabin just for a few moments alone. But even those aren't truly alone.

The door to the restroom opens up not too long after him and of course that person takes ages to do their business. With a silent grumble Steve finishes up and leaves the cabin to wash his hands. Just then the door to another cabin opens and an older gentleman with thinning grey hair, in a three piece suit steps out. His eyes meet Steve's in the mirror as he walks up to the sink area himself. They look cold, although he has a smile plastered on his face. Fake niceties like Steve has grown used to.

"King Rogers." He acknowledges and Steve simply gives a nod. He isn't even safe in the fucking bathroom!

"Black isn't really your colour." Steve's brows furrow. What was that supposed to mean? "You know many families waited for the old crone to finally step down and let you be the king. Women shouldn't hold that much power, especially when there's no king at her side to keep her in check. Who would have thought it would take her to die for you to finally step up." The man seems calm and collected as if he didn't just insult Steve's mother.

"What the fuck did you say about my mom? Old crone?!" His blood was boiling and he was this close to hitting the old man if it weren't for his manners. His mom raised him better but she wasn't here to keep him in check was she?

"Oh calm down Steven. No need to get all flustered and angry. Hold your tongue before you say something you'll regret. We'll be one happy family soon after all." The man smirked and calmly dried his hands. He teaches over and turns off Steve's tab, the blonde frozen from anger. What did he just say? He must be demented. "What?" Is all that Steve can bring out. Confused and angry and still so so close to punch that guy.

"Oh you don't know. Can't say I'm surprised, your mother shielded you a lot. Now I have to do all the explaining. That's why women should never be in charge.” he rolls his eyes. “Are you familiar with the Hastings family?" The man hands Steve one of the towels and casually leans against the sink. Hastings? Steve has heard that name before... Wasn't that the royal family that fell from grace three generations ago? His eyes flit to the man.

"Sounds familiar." Is all he can grid out. What is this man on about? Is he just here to gossip?

"Clever boy." The smirk on the old man's face is uncanny. As if he can read Steve all too well. "You know exactly who they are but instead of going off to gossip like all the other royals out there you keep your answer neutral. What a good king you make." Steve's confusion grows.

"What does the Hastings family have to do with us becoming one?" Steve bites out. "Ah straight to business. Just how I like it. You see the Hastings family and the Rogers family go way back. Many, many generations in fact. King Joseph Rogers the first and King George Hastings even made a little pact, that yes, still stands today." His eyes search Steve's face and his grin looks so satisfied. "That the families will unite as soon as there is a male and female heir born into the families. Now ever since then both families only bore strong sons with an occasional daughter that was out of the age range for marriage. That is until roughly 30 years ago. When you and my granddaughter were born just two years apart." Steve's brow lifts. The old man was a Hastings. Wanting to fulfill a deal that was made over a hundred years ago... Bullshit.

"Whatever deal you're referring to will not stand with today's laws. So you can stop badmouthing my mom and trying to get me to marry your desperate granddaughter now." Steve spits. The man just grins. "Oh, it will Steven. Here let your lawyers check this and then get back to me about when my granddaughter can move in with you. " He laughs and hands Steve an envelope before he walks out of the restroom and back into the gala.

Steve's eyes fall on the envelope, it's burning in his hands but he needs to get this checked. He can't marry someone because of an old deal. He can't marry someone with a grandfather daring to insult his mom that's not even been dead for a month. Steve's eyes start to burn with tears. His mom shielded him from so much while she also did her best to prepare him for this life... He wishes she was here... That he wouldn't need to mourn her so publicly while also keeping his tears in to not seem weak. He wishes he could wear the dark blue suits she got for him because according to her that's the colour he looks the most handsome in. He wishes she could brush his hair out of his face one more time. Just once more with that sweet smile that was reserved for him only.

He takes a shakey breath and swallows the lump in his throat. A brief look in the mirror, a deep breath, straightening his tie. He can't show weakness. Not here, not ever. 'Safe the tears for your bedroom, Rogers.' the voice in his head commands. He wipes away the stray tear that got caught in his lashes, pockets the envelope and with another deep breath makes his way back to his friends.

They're chatting, most likely teasing each other. As soon as Bucky sees him both heads turn to Steve with a concerned gaze swiping up and down. They seem to come to the conclusion that he's okay and relax. "We need to leave." he says as soon as he reaches them. His tone more urgent than he wanted to. "Why you got diarrhea? Took you pretty long in there... I told ya to lay it easy on the hors d'oeuvres." Bucky teases with a grin that immediately falls as soon as he sees Steves eyes. Sam can't even get his joke in before Bucky declares that they're leaving. He leads Steve to the host of the gala for a quick goodbye and then out to the car they came in.

Within 10 minutes they're on the road. For the first time with only the three of them in the car, Steve pulls up the divider for privacy. Shielded from Sam and Bucky, he allows himself to spill a few tears for his mother before he can make it to the safety of his bedroom. He knows that will be away for another few hours, especially with the envelope that's burning a hole into his pocket.

Ever since you were young your family hasn't cared much for you. The only thing that was important to them was that you did exactly what they wanted... in every aspect of your life. You got the education they wanted, you went to college for what they wanted and you hid your interests to make them like you. At the beginning of your twenties you finally broke out of that circle. You moved far away with your friend and only occasionally visited for important matters, much to their dismay. Just like you were now.

The train ride never isn't boring, even with a good book and music. The most thrilling plot or the most beautiful lyrics couldn't distract you from the stranger sitting next to you. Somehow you always had the luck of them eating something disgusting, talking loudly on the phone, constantly bumping into you or being a stranger to the concept of headphones.

Your eyes wander over to your friend and her husband for the millionth time. They were sitting together, cuddling, yet somehow each minding their own business. Her husband looking out of the window, headphones in, music on and daydreaming. Your friend reading the newest book from her favourite author. How you wish you had someone to share a seat with... to share a life with. You wouldn't have a stranger next to you. You'd have a partner. You could cuddle and mind your own business at the same time... or play a game? Would you get upset at them winning Uno? Or would you love them too much to get frustrated?

You let out a sigh. You've been single for so long... a partner was still written in the stars and wouldn't come by anytime soon. So you'd have to deal with strangers next to you on the train, the couch for yourself and your family constantly badgering you when you'd move back and find a partner. It's not like you planned being almost thirty and still single. As a child you dreamed about being married with children at this age. Maybe having a little house and a dog. You wanted to be surrounded by friends, leave your family out of it as much as you could. Just enjoy life with your partner. But here you were, still alone. Maybe wallowing in self pity at a life that could have been would be a good way to pass time till you were back at your family's place.

You pull your suitcase after you. The walk from the train station wasn't too long and you know better than to ask anyone to pick you up. You don't want to inconvenience them or owe them. Last time you asked your mother and she made you wash all the dishes from the family party by hand after you played waitress during the entirety of it. You'd rather choose walking 30 minutes to the house than do that again.

As you come closer you spot your grandpa's car in the driveway. He must be here to oversee the preparations for his birthday party tomorrow. You briefly look down at yourself, jeans and t-shirt. It looks good enough but you already know you'd be criticised left and right. Never enough for them.

With a deep breath you ring the doorbell and wait. It's not too long before the door opens to reveal your mother. She takes in your appearance and sneers before she greets you. She steps to the side to let you in. "You visit your family that you never see and you show up dressed like some slob. You could wear something nice every now and then." She grumbles before she goes to the living room to announce that you're here. Well if you knew your grandpa would be here a day early you would have tried to wear something nicer. You leave your suitcase next to the door and follow her into the living room. You greet everyone and listen to your siblings' judgments until your grandpa stops them.

"Enough. Let's not ruin this joyful day for our family." He announces before he gets up and stands next to you. Joyful day? What happened? Did he finally win the lottery? You look at him confused.

"You all need to learn to not criticise her so much anymore. After all it would be a bad image to her fiancé and the press." Everyone nods along as if what he said did make any sense. Even your father who usually only shows interest for the drink in front of him, nods along. Has he got dementia since the last time you visited? "What?" Is all you can bring out at which your mother scoffs.

"Well dear... It took you a long time to find a partner, which in hindsight I'm very grateful about. You know our family has a long history and its history and glory shall be restored soon enough.” Your grandpa declares like it's some victory. “Many hundred years ago our ancestors made a deal with the royal family of Brooken. The first heirs of opposite sex shall marry and unite our families. It just never worked out age wise until you came along. Born just two years after the now reigning King Steven Rogers." He explains and you're absolutely sure they all lost their damn minds. No royal family would make a deal with commoners, especially back then.

"Well I recently met the young man and reminded him of this deal. He's more than eager to fulfill it and marry you. He'll collect you and bring you to Brooken tomorrow." He squeezes your arm, a smile plastered on his face. You can't do anything but stare at him and then burst out in laughter. They were messing with you. Or playing along with your grandpa's dementia... But no one else was laughing. They all looked rather serious... And the house looked so clean... Was this not a joke?

"This... This has to be a joke...?" You say, looking at him with desperation. "Why would it be? You'll restore the Hasting family's glory and finally be of use to us.” your heart breaks a little more. Were you truly this worthless? Did nothing you did for them before count? You look up at them, desperate to find any sign that this wasn't true. That they were playing a prank. The stone faces of your parents and siblings look back at you. This... This wasn't a joke. They'd marry you off to some stranger. To a king? To gain what? What about your life? What about your place? Your job? You can't just leave that behind for some king who's probably a huge asshole... Your long fought for freedom taken by your family and that guy. Back under control, every move watched and criticised.

The rest of the day has been cruel. Your family was between joy at your engagement to a king and anger at you trying to refuse. In-between all the explaining, that really didn't give you any new information or any that would make sense of the situation, you texted your friend which promised to call you later.

“It's not all that bad… at least he's handsome!” Your friend tries to reason. “Plus you'd be a queen! No more shitty job that doesn't pay you enough. You'd live in a castle and wear pretty dresses.” She offers and is met with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah that's great but at what cost? My freedom. I really love my one bedroom apartment. You know why? Because it's mine. I can do what I want. And in his castle? I probably won't even be allowed to hang a picture on the wall. There'll be people watching my every move and reporting back to him. I'll be just as miserable as I used to be at my parents place.” The white of the ceiling starts to become blurry with the tears that are about to spill. “What if I can never see you again? What if he won't let me have any friends?” Your voice breaks at the thought.

“He doesn't look like he'd be such an asshole. He looks nice and the articles write nice things about him too.” She reasons. “Yeah and who has big influence on the press? Him. Of course they wouldn't write anything bad about him.” You complain. “They have written not so nice things about him. Especially with him grieving his mother…” that you do feel sorry for. They seemed to have a good relationship, losing a loving parent isn't easy. “Give him a chance. You never know maybe he's a prince charming.” Her voice sounds encouraging.

“What does a king even want with a commoner? Why would a king make a deal like that hundreds of years ago? I don't get it…” you question. “Who knows maybe your family had blackmail material on the royals.” At that you snort a bit. “Maybe… he seems eager to get married. My family is eager for this. Why am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?” Your hands pick on the scratchy blanket your mother put on the guest bed for you. “Because you're the one who loses a lot for this. Your family gains royalty… at least they'll be royal adjacent? I mean they do have the stick up their asses like royals already. And he gains a wife? Dating must be hard when you're a king.” She muses. “His last relationship was six years ago. His ex left him for another prince and got married like a year after.” You hum at the information she found. His whole life could be found on the internet which makes you wonder what he even knows about you? Your family didn't even know you so he couldn't even get something accurate from them.

“Listen, I gotta go… but give it a chance? And if he's an asshole and you need out, you text me and we'll come to break you out ok?” you sigh at your friends offer but ultimately agree. You'll try, it's not like you can leave the house and flee without your family noticing and coming for you anyways. You place your phone on the nightstand and cuddle up in bed. Your eyes fall on the monstrosity of dress your mother picked out for you. Maybe if you truly wore that pink pile of whatever the seamstress had left over, he'd run for the hills and you'd still be free.

"Sorry Steve... I can check a few more things but this is airtight... They can force you to marry that girl..." his lawyer says. Steve sighs and looks up from his desk to look at the brunette who meets him with a warm empathetic smile. Maria Hill, top of her class, badass in their softball team and brilliant lawyer. Steve recommended her to his mom when the old lawyer retired. Maria showed her wits and was hired within two hours of her interview.

"There's no way a deal from over a hundred years ago still holds up! You're telling me there was not a single occasion where this desk could have already been fulfilled? Aren't the Hastings fucking hornballs with so many family members? They're not even royal anymore! How does this hold up?" Bucky rants, clearly trying to protect his friend. Maria meets his eyes and lifts an eyebrow.

"Well if you want to go through the entire family trees and history to try and prove that be my guest. Matter of fact is that King Joseph and King George thought of everything in their agreement. Even the downfall of royalty... Or in this case the downfall of one royal family. This seems to be their way back. Making Steve marry the granddaughter so at least she is tuly royal." Maria says dryly. "I will check it over once more. I think we all should get as much rest as this night still offers but... don't get your hopes up Steve." She adds as she gets up and takes the contract that was in the envelope before. "What if we kill her. Can't marry someone that's dead" Bucky suggests and immediately gets a slap on the back of his head from Sam.

"As your lawyer I would advice against the murder of the future spouse of your best friend. You'd be one of the first suspects and I'm sorry to say this Barnes but your pokerface isn't as great as you'd like to think." Maria states before she looks at Steve. He's exhausted, his face in his hands, his hair ruffled. "Go to bed Steve." She says softly, worried about her friend.

Steve let's out a sigh and gets up. "Dismissed. Good night." Is all he can say before he drags himself out of his office and up the stairs. His mind is a flurry of thoughts that just won't shut up no matter how much he tries. He lets out a sigh as soon as he reaches the third floor. To the left is his room, to the right the room of his mother. His legs move on their own, carrying him to the portrait of her that's covered in a black veil. In the last month he often stood in front of it. He wished it good night before he'd get in bed. Just like he planned to do today.

"Night mom..." He whispers, the tears in his eyes returning once more. "This is all so hard without you… you would know what to do with this stupid deal… I wish you were here." his voice breaks at that. He gulps and tries to hold back his tears. He isn't in the safety of his own bedroom yet. But he isn't sure he's gonna make it till there. His eyes wander to his door, so far away, and back to the portrait. He gulps and moves towards her door. Her room is safe too. Even if it brings sad memories.

He softly closes the door behind him, his eyes falling onto her bed. He'd often sleep with her as a child. When he had nightmares, when he was upset about his father dying, when he was sick. Just one more time he tells himself and takes off his shoes. He can sleep in the sweatpants and shirt he put on earlier, he doesn't need a fancy pyjama set. Hesitantly he slips under the yellow covers. His nose immediately fills with her scent. Her favourite laundry detergent mixed with her perfume and he can't hold back the tears any longer. The dam breaks and he sobs into her pillow. After many minutes of crying he falls asleep enveloped by her one more time.

[unriding]

EVIE !!!!!

I SAW U USE MY ART AS UR THEME SO I WANNA DO A REMAKE !!! mostly cause the other one was full of mistaks hurrrrr orz

keeping the color palette the same so itd still fit + use softer shading so convey how soft u are + moze is now IN UR HAND !!!! >:3

oh nick :’)

[sinkjustlikeastone]

ppl thinking we as a musical fandom invented cherrycola because we got bored with marbit….

babe I would die for marbit

I have like 17 wips of them and every picture and art I can find of them saved into my camera roll and tap about thes so much that every time I open my mouth my family has to tell me not to talk about them and you’re saying that we as fans of the musical are bored with it???????

I would shoot you down for them. Stop trying to find ways to hate on fans of the musical!!!!

[deerlisteners]

thinking abt felix being protective of areadbhar and feeling entirely normal about it actually

[petriichvrs]

FOUR YEARS  OF  NOXTMS  /  six  characters  !

ft. @viiktorious ( my absolute favorite take on viktor, in the sense that no one else could ever really compare. i think you write him so well when it would be so easy for him to be very oversimplified, and one of the most pleasant surprises of this year - at least so far - has been you bringing him back to the dash ! ), @hoggleswart ( i don't know how well documented my 'sarah shahi deserves to be used more in the rpc' movement is here in nox, but i have been leading that charge for so many years and i was already so invested in roshana before you ticked all my favorite boxes in a character. i love ocs connected to existing canons in ways other than siblings or children, and i'm always a sucker for someone achingly sad ! ), @hcldmybroom ( not unlike the above, i have been wanting ambika to become the next big thing for so long that i, again, was always predisposed to loving a character using her ! there is so much - so far - untapped potential for drama with minette that makes me gleeful, and i really, really enjoy what i have seen of them so far ! ), @chacswins ( this guy is always gonna hurt my heart, and i'm always gonna be way more into that than i should be</3 you and sam are neck to neck in my personal 'most anticipated returns' list, and i'm so happy to be able to play around with you in all the angsty ways i've grown to love playing around with you in over the years of friendship and development we've had ! i'm so fond of damien in a way i think doesn't get expressed enough, and so grateful that his existence has provided me with 1. a whole character, in luca and 2. so many new layers for other characters ! ), @tosteelisms ( cara macdonald, my beloved, i am so glad that someone has finally given you a chance to thrive when you have so deserved it for so long ! she's one of my most adored creations, here, and i am so glad that i was able to entrust her into such capable hands ! you came into nox swinging, and i have loved seeing her form ! ), @acritudos ( last, but not at all least. theo nott was talked about at such length for so long that it would have been so easy for him to lose momentum but. of course. that was never going to happen in your hands. he is everything i've always dreamed of and more in terms of all the various dynamics i always wanted - with pansy, with the slytherin gang as a whole, with astoria, with ginny. with everyone, really ! - and of course it would be you that would give me those goods. how on earth could i expect any differently ! as always, i feel very lucky to write with you and develop such complex connections with you, and i hope that never changes<3 ) !