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ari-ana-bel-la · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! If you’re still accepting requests, would you write about Lando and his daughter and he always dresses them in matching outfits since she was a baby? Thanks!

Matching Outfits

The sun had just started rising over the circuit, casting a golden hue over the paddock. The usual buzz was already beginning to build: mechanics setting up, team members running around with coffees in hand, and media beginning to trickle in. But that morning, one figure stood out more than anyone else.

Lando walked into the paddock with a soft smile on his face, one hand pushing a sleek black stroller, the other adjusting the hood of his pastel pink hoodie. A matching pink baby bow peeked from under the stroller's blanket. Only a few people noticed at first, but the moment word got around, the drivers started appearing from every corner.

"Mate," Carlos said, jogging up beside him, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Is this the debut I think it is?"

Lando grinned. "Yep. She's finally here."

He carefully peeled back the stroller's blanket, revealing a tiny sleeping Yn, dressed in a pink onesie with a mini Quadrant logo embroidered on the chest and an oversized bow that nearly swallowed her forehead.

Carlos face melted. "No way. No actual way. She looks like a little cupcake. Look at her!"

Lando chuckled. "She drooled on the last outfit, so we had to switch to the emergency one. This is version 2.0."

Oscar appeared next, eyebrows raised. "You actually did it. The matching outfits thing."

Lando looked mock-offended. "You doubted me?"

"No, no! I expected it. I just didn’t expect it to be this cute."

Yn stirred slightly in the stroller, a tiny fist poking out from under the blanket. The drivers leaned in instinctively.

"She’s so small," murmured Charles, crouching beside the stroller.

"She’s three months. That’s still pocket-size," Lando whispered proudly. "Her main activities include eating, napping, and making me late because I get too distracted dressing her."

"How many outfits do you have for her?" George asked, peering down with a soft smile.

"Too many. But not enough," Lando answered with zero guilt. "I ordered custom onesies in every color hoodie I own. And I have more on the way."

Carlos snorted. "So what you're saying is you’ve created a fashion dynasty."

Lando smirked. "I’m building an empire."

The next race weekend, it was green.

Lando strutted into the paddock in a sage green hoodie with matching joggers. Yn sat contentedly in a baby carrier strapped to his chest, wearing a tiny green romper with little frog socks and a matching headband.

"You planned this," Alex said, pointing.

"Of course I did."

"You realize she has no idea what she's wearing, right?"

"Doesn’t matter," Lando grinned. "She’ll thank me when she’s older and sees the pictures."

"Or she’ll roll her eyes."

"Even better."

Yn, completely oblivious to the conversation, giggled and tried to gum Lando’s hoodie string.

"Hey, hey, no eating daddy’s hoodie," he cooed, lifting her tiny hand to kiss it. She squealed in return.

Pierre walked over, holding a coffee. "Alright, what’s the color this weekend?"

"Green," George answered, pointing at the duo. "Obviously."

Pierre leaned in, eyes widening as he looked at Yn. "Every week she gets cuter. It’s unfair."

Lando smiled. "It’s the power of good accessories."

By the third race, it was orange. Not just any orange, McLaren papaya orange.

Yn wore a handmade onesie in the team’s signature color, soft and breathable, with a tiny patch on the sleeve that read: Daddy’s #1 Fan. She even had socks with little steering wheels on them.

As Lando entered the motorhome, carrying her on his hip, the whole team melted.

"She’s our good luck charm," one of the mechanics said.

"She needs a team badge," added another.

"Already on it," Lando said, producing a tiny laminated card from his pocket. "She’s officially honorary team baby."

Yn responded by sneezing loudly and then blowing a raspberry.

"She speaks!" Carlos shouted, pretending to fall back in mock awe.

"Her first words will probably be ‘downforce,’" Charles joked.

"Or ‘Daddy stop matching me,’" Oscar added.

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile. "You’re all jealous."

That night in the hotel, Lando sat cross-legged on the bed, baby monitor on one side, tiny piles of pastel onesies spread out before him.

"Okay," he muttered, holding up two outfits. "Tomorrow’s color theme. Sunshine yellow or lilac?"

Yn, lying in her bassinet and gnawing on a teething ring, offered no comment.

"Right. Lilac it is. You are such a smart baby, darling."

Each morning became a little ritual. Lando would wake up, feed her, change her, and then pull out their matching outfits for the day. The more he did it, the more he fell in love with the little moment of connection they shared, even if she couldn’t understand it yet.

Every cuddle, every gummy smile, every sleepy coo made the long nights and early mornings worth it.

And every weekend, more of the paddock caught on.

Seb came by once just to bring a knitted cardigan for Yn in Ferrari red.

"Not subtle," Lando said.

"She needs options," Seb replied with a wink.

Even Kimi gave her a tiny pair of racing gloves. "Too big now. She’ll grow."

"Thanks, Ice Man," Lando said, genuinely touched.

"Bwoah, don’t call me that."

During a rainy weekend, Lando dressed them both in little waterproof jackets in pastel purple. Yn had tiny boots (more decorative than functional), and Lando kept her tucked against his chest as they walked through the paddock.

Media snapped photos, but Lando was always careful, always keeping her face tucked safely away.

He didn’t want the world to have her. Not yet. Not fully.

Yn was his world. His quiet, peaceful world in the middle of racing chaos.

Every night, before bed, he whispered the same thing into her tiny ear:

"You’re my whole universe, little star."

She’d gurgle back, a tiny hand wrapping around his finger.

And that was all he needed.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-💚🐍

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liminalmemories21 · 2 days ago

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Epiphanies on a bathroom floor (911 ficlet - post episode 8x17)

@cecilyv and I took a crack at another version of what could have happened post 8x17. (entertainingly, I still haven't seen the episode - @cecilyv has though, so slightly more informed vibes this time around)

------------

Buck gets back from the scene, from the building falling to pieces around them, and locks himself in Eddie’s bathroom. Doesn’t feel like his house. Again. He stands, staring at himself in the mirror, rocking forward on his toes. His heart pounding in his chest, hammering against his breast bone like it's trying to escape.

He barely recognizes the person looking back.

Eddie knocks, asks if he’s okay. Buck’s not sure exactly what to say, what he should say, what Eddie wants to hear. Whatever he ends up saying must have been good enough because Eddie tells him that he and Chris are going to Pepa’s.

Good, that’s good. More people Buck doesn’t have to put a brave face on for, any longer. He listens to them leave. In theory the house is empty now. He could unlock the door, go sit somewhere more comfortable for his breakdown. Go back to the church, double the number of times he’s gone in a decade in a weekend.

Doesn’t move.

Doesn’t know if the earthquake was a sign from God that he was blaspheming, but he can’t tempt fate again. Doesn’t have another earthquake or lightning strike in him right now. Bobby, God, whomever is watching over him and letting him royally fuck up.

There’s a noise, someone opening the front door, footsteps. He wonders what Eddie forgot. Then a knock on the door and, “Evan?”

He feels tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and squeezes them shut. Grips the edge of the counter until he feels it digging into his palms. Can’t start crying now. Not sure he’d ever stop. Breathes through it until he thinks his voice will be steady.

“Tommy?”

“Hen called me. Said she was worried about you after that last call.”

And she’d called Tommy? Has no idea what to do with that.

“She thought Eddie would be here, but apparently he’s at his aunt’s?” Tommy sounds baffled. He doesn’t have the energy to explain. He’s not sure what to think about the idea that Tommy was Hen’s first call after Eddie.

Just says, “Yeah.” And then out of some kind of loyalty, or something, adds, “I, uh, I said it was okay.” It’s not Eddie’s fault that he was made wrong.

Tommy makes a non-committal noise. “Do you want to come out?” He doesn’t think he makes a noise, but he must, because Tommy’s instantly backtracking, “Or I can sit here and wait until you’re ready.”

It takes him a second to place that tone of voice, and then he wants to cringe his way into a corner, because that’s the ‘talk the crazy person off the ledge’ voice. The first responder, ‘calm the victim down’ voice. He knows that voice; he uses that voice.

Ma’am, I’m not Satan, my name is Buck. He really was begging to get smited, wasn’t he?

Slides down the wall instead, down down down, until he’s sitting on the floor. Wraps his arms around his legs, thinks he’s as small as he can be. Tilts his head against the door with a thunk. He’s sure that Tommy has better places to be, things he should be doing. He sits, for a second, a minute, expecting him to go. He should go. But then he hears Tommy moving, swearing softly, grunting when he hits the ground. His hip must be hurting him again, it does sometimes -- had always enjoyed getting his hands on him when it had, before, rubbing muscle cream into it, finding the knots and pushing until they loosened, making it better.

Now, he thinks he should get back up, open the door -- keeping Tommy down here, with him -- he’s doing exactly what Eddie said he always did. Worries his lip between his teeth. Maybe he’d never made it better; maybe he’d always made it worse.

Can’t bring himself to move. If he’s quiet, he thinks he can hear Tommy breathing and that has to be enough.

He’s silent too long, because Tommy says, "Evan, I need you to keep talking to me.”

He's foggy enough that it takes a minute to figure out why. "You think I have a concussion?"

"Well, Hen thinks it’s a possibility, and I make it a policy not to argue with Hen." He snorts wetly. Gets an amused hum in response, and then, “Since I can't get in there and check, I'm going to need you to talk to me until I can. Okay?"

Concussion protocols. He can do that. Could do it in his sleep. "Um, my name is Evan Buckley." Pauses. "Do you know you and Maddie are the only people who call me Evan. Well, my parents. But I don't like it when they do it. You and Maddie are the only people who do it and I like it."

Hears Tommy make an indistinct noise he can't parse. Keeps going.

"President is, uh, Trump. Fuck all our lives." He hadn’t cared the first time, Washington was so far away, had so little impact on his day to day until fire season rolled around. He thinks about Tommy, Hen and Karen and Josh and all the other people who dealt with the fear and anxiety every single day. He should have cared. It should have mattered. It’s just another way he failed them without knowing; another way he could have, should have been better.

"Umm, what else. Oh right, what day of the week is it." That stumps him. Thinks backwards, flips through the shift calendar in his head. Still nothing. "Okay, I don't know that. But, to be fair, I don't think I knew what day of the week it was before the earthquake, so it shouldn't count."

He can tell you how many days it's been since Bobby died though. How many days he's been trying to hold everything and everyone together with tape and string and he's not Bobby, he's not enough. He can't do it. Eddie made that very clear.

“Two out of three,” Tommy says. “Good enough for government work.” He waits for Tommy to leave. He’s done his duty. Checked on him. One more way he’s making himself the problem - pulling Tommy away from whatever he’d been doing, making him drive out of his way to come check on him. Hears Tommy shift to find a different position on the other side of the door instead, jeans rustling when his legs rub together. “Now that’s out of the way, how’ve you been doing?”

Pepa told him to accept change and Bobby told him to be there for people, that they’d need him, that he’d be alright — and he whispers, soft enough that Tommy shouldn’t be able to hear him, even back to back against the same door, “I’m not okay, Bobby said, but I’m not — and Eddie said--“ and trails off.

Closes his eyes. Swallows it down. Waits until he’s sure his voice won’t give him away. “I’m okay. You don’t need to stay.”

Tommy makes a hmming noise. “But I just got myself settled. I’m not as young as I used to be, I think I’ll stay for a minute if that’s okay with you.”

He wants to ask why Tommy’s here. Why Tommy came when Hen called. Why he keeps coming when Buck calls, when all Buck ever is is mean to him. Thinks he should tell Tommy he’s not worth it, that whatever Tommy thinks he sees, it’s not real.

Hears Tommy shifting again. There are blankets and pillows in the bedroom. He should tell Tommy to grab some if he’s planning on staying. Floor’s not going to get any softer.

Thinks about asking what he’d have to do to make Tommy want to stay. With him, not just here on this floor. Reminds himself not to make it about him, what he wants.

He doesn’t want any of this. Wants a do-over.

There’s a stretch of silence, then Tommy breaks it. “I watched the new Blue Planet the other day. Or well, I guess it’s not new, but I missed it when it came out, so new to me.”

He appreciates what Tommy’s trying to do. It’s still a little bit -- talk the crazy guy off the ledge, but well, he feels a little bit like he’s balancing on a ledge, so maybe Tommy knows something he doesn’t.

“Proof of life,” Tommy asks him, and oh, yea, didn’t respond. Out loud, anyway. Guesses that’s the only response that really matters.

“Did you like it?” his voice sounds rusty, like it’s been scrapped over the shards of his throat. He wipes his eyes. Doesn’t know when he started crying. Must have been for a while.

“It lacked commentary,” is all Tommy says, which is weird because it has a good narrator, and he-- oh.

“You mean, uh, me?”

It’s an old house, Eddie’s, his, whoever's it is right now. There’s a gap under the door — he watches Tommy’s fingers slide under, like a cat’s paw. He hooks his finger with Tommy’s.

“I mean, you.” Buck lets that settle inside him, feels his lips quirk upward. “Think you’re ready to let me in?”

Could be talking about the bathroom. Could be about something bigger. Either way. “I’ll only hurt you, I’m no good for anyone I love.”

And Tommy’s quiet again for a long time and when he speaks, his voice is funny -- not talk the crazy person down, more like he’s trying to talk around a lump in his throat. “I’m someone you love?”

“Yes,” he says, affronted, before he can stop himself. Because that’s never been up for debate. “But that doesn’t matter, it’s not about me — what I want.”

“It matters a lot to me,” Tommy points out. “And, I think it’s a little bit about what you want.”

Buck puts his other hand on the door, presses until his knuckles whiten. It’s what he wants, but he never gets what he wants.

He can’t believe they’re having this conversation while he’s locked in a bathroom, sitting on cold tiles, staring at the toilet. The lights are harsh, because he never bothered to change them from the cheap fluorescents Eddie put in. They expose every flaw for anyone who can see — God. Bobby. Himself. Maybe Tommy.

“Think you can open the door now?”

He looks down at their fingers, still wrapped around each other. “I’ll have to let go.” Doesn’t want to let go, never did; right now it feels like the only thing tethering him, making him feel safe, wanted.

“Just for a second,” Tommy concedes. “I’ve got you.”

#ficlet #911 #buck/tommy #post 8x17 #interstitials #we're having all the feelings y'all

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creativepromptsforwriting · 3 days ago

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Drabble List #15

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"We need to take a leap of faith."

"I won't let them take everything from us."

"This is the only way."

"We're on the same team."

"You can't keep running away."

"We need to make this right."

"I have some questions for you."

"Wanna test it for yourself?"

"I can't believe you said that."

"You have to make a choice."

"This is our chance to change everything."

"We need to be brave."

"I can't do this without you."

"You have to face the truth."

"This is bigger than both of us."

"We need to act fast."

"I can't keep living a lie."

"We need to find the courage to move forward."

"We have to be honest with ourselves."

"This isn't over yet."

"We need to take a stand."

"I'm not alone in this fight."

"We can't let them destroy everything we've built."

"I believe in us."

"We have to keep the faith."

"I'm not as strong as you think."

"I can't keep living a lie."

"You have no idea what I've been through."

"This is bigger than both of us."

"We have to find a way."

"I can't believe you did that."

"We need to be strong."

"This isn't about revenge."

"You can't hide forever."

"We need to stay focused."

"I never wanted any of this."

"You have to face your fears."

"This is our moment."

"We need to find the truth."

"I can't let them win."

"You really need to trust your instincts more."

"This isn't about winning."

"We have to make a stand."

"I never thought it would come to this."

"You have to let me in."

"This is our chance."

"We need to be ready."

"I can't believe I trusted you."

"You have no idea what I've sacrificed."

"This isn't just about us."

"We need to stay calm."

"I can't keep doing this forever."

"I can't let them take everything."

"You have to trust me."

"This is our fight."

"Who are your friends?"

"Don't start from the very beginning."

"Personally, I have no idea."

"We need to be careful."

"I wish I could believe you."

"We can't keep doing this."

"How did we end up here?"

"You know I can't stay."

"We have to take a risk."

"I don't want to lose you."

"You need to let go."

"This isn't the end."

"We're not that close."

"I had a bad feeling about this."

"And it seems like I was right about it."

"We can't let fear control us."

"I never expected this."

"You have to make a choice."

"We need to act fast."

"This is just the beginning of our story."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! ��

#drabble prompts #writeblr #writing prompts #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing ideas

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cassie0queen · 20 hours ago

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(English isn't my first language so don't judge me ok)

I just had an idea what if this was a demon twins au where Danny runs away and everyone thinks he's dead but Danny is like the better twin but he loved Damian very much and Ra's was using this to make Danny obey his orders and the twins were super close and they had a really good relationship and Danny overhears Ra's talking about the battle to death between the twins and he decides he gonna let Damian be the heir and he finds the perfect opportunity to disappear when he's in a mission and the was an explosion and Danny is found by jazz somewhere in Chicago and decides this is her lil bro I'm thinking and everything continues as it was but Danny's parents accept him and like they send him with his sister to GU (BC she into psychology) so the GW wouldn't find him and he ends up moving schools there (and if you want add Danielle we're calling he Ellie BCS better BC why not is gonna be fun) and fast forward to 2 months in Gotham and somehow the bats don't realise there's other demon brat here and like things happen and both are into the same freaking thing like I'm talking about Danny joins art class bc he thinks Damien would do that and Damien learns more about space and science bc he thinks Danny would do that and like they both have the same clothing style? (Idk I think Danny would ware this clothes ) and like idk one of the bats come across Danny is wearing these clothes or something similar to what Damien had yesterday or a day before that and... BUT What if Bruce or Alfred was the one who finds out about Danny and like they think is a clone or something bc Damian didn't tell the truth about Danny bc shame/grief or guiltyness OR bc he saw the way Bruce talked about Jason when they thought he was dead? And imagine them confronting and Damian recognise Danny immediately and breaks down crying bc kid wasn't allowed to grief and if he was he was only alone at night in his bedroom because Ra's though Danny was a disgrace to the Al Gaul family and the bats finding out the whole story from Damian s perspectiv and like Danny's just living his life till F!KING BATMAN and robin (who kinda look like him or his twin but he ain't judging) breaks his freaking window and Ellie is laughing in the background bc batman is calling him son and wants him to go with him home (batsy is kidnapping kids from their homes (; ) and like jazz is coming home only to find this f!king furry bat cosplay dude (I'm scared to swear) want to kidnap her lil siblings and they start arguing and the bats weren't expecting to a redhead Young woman to be ready to fight batman and like robin trys to talk to Danny but his lil sister just doesn't allow him to speak and robin take off his mask and it shows Damian and everyone rameins silent Ellie is stunned thinking is other clone jazz knowing damn well thats Danny's twin bc sword and Danny's eyes well up just enough to make his eyes glossy and but he keeps a straight face and tells him to leave (he thinks Damian is still with the league of assassins) and Damian is heartbroken but HE ATTEMPTS to leaves but red hood quite literally lifts Danny up his shoulder and runs to the batcave with red robin giving instructions to what do to next and idk how but jazz and Ellie are coming along so yeyy (I know is bad but I barely had 20 hours of sleep in 3 days and I can't do basic math or spell something)

Lil Wayne here!!

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wordsmeetwbb · 18 hours ago

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A Girlfriend Betrayal

Word count: 1.9k

Content: fluff, hurt/comfort

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: here's a silly little fic based on one of these headcannons from @luvergirl-535. everybody thank her for giving me permission to steal it! anyway, 2 fics in 2 days is a record for me, so don't expect anything super soon. enjoy!

________

Sun streams in through the window, the thin curtains doing nothing to block the light. Paige blinks awake, body shifting as she stretches through the last dregs of sleep. She twists, tilting her head up and back to stare at Azzi where she’s sitting up against the headboard. She gives the younger girl a dopey, lovesick smile, already reaching up to pull her down for a kiss. As soon as her fingers make contact with Azzi’s jaw, though, Azzi stiffens.

Paige blinks slowly, confusion filtering through her sleepy mind. She tugs gently, fingers pressing on the back of Azzi’s neck to pull her in. Azzi resists, a pout settled onto her lips. Paige is baffled.

“Comere mama,” she murmurs, confusion coloring her tone. Her other hand comes up to rest on Azzi’s thigh through the comforter. Azzi shifts away. Paige stares at her. “Morning kiss?” She wonders, voice softer now. Azzi doesn’t meet her eyes.

“No,” she says simply. Paige recoils as if she’s been hit.

“No?” She gasps. She scrambles into a sitting position. “No good morning kiss?” She sounds horrified, hands twitching between the blankets and Azzi’s shoulders, as if she doesn’t know if she’ll be allowed to touch her girlfriend. “Why?” Azzi’s pout intensifies. For maybe the first time since she met Azzi, Paige has absolutely no idea what’s wrong with her girlfriend.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Did I do something?” She asks. Her voice is still scratchy from sleep, making her sound even more desperate than she feels. Azzi goes back to scrolling on her phone.

“Nothing.” Paige’s jaw drops. A one word answer. She’s so fucked, and she doesn’t even know what she did.

“Baby, no, please don’t do that. Come here, wait, come back–” Paige reaches out, fingers grasping for any part of Azzi she can reach, but the brunette is already getting out of bed. Her movements don’t look hurried, but Paige can read the tension underlying every step.

“I’m going to go get coffee with Caroline,” Azzi says as she starts tugging on a pair of pants and a shirt. Her voice is tight. Paige sits in bed, feeling helpless and completely, utterly confused.

“Okay,” she says meekly. Azzi shuts the door just slightly harder than necessary when she leaves. It cleaves a crack into Paige’s heart. She collapses back into the bed, resolving to go back to sleep and hoping that when she wakes up again, this will have all been a bizarre dream.

________

Paige is sprawled out on the couch in her living room, most of the rest of the team scattered around the room in various forms of hanging out around her. She doesn’t hear the door open or close, doesn’t hear footsteps enter the apartment, doesn’t notice anything until Azzi passes in front of the couch. She doesn’t acknowledge Paige, just walks past her and settles cross-legged onto the floor next to Jana. Paige gapes at her.

“Azzi. How was coffee?” She calls, voice cutting through the noise of the room. Azzi barely glances up at her.

“Fine,” she replies, but her voice shakes slightly when she speaks. It’s almost imperceptible, would be imperceptible if Paige knew Azzi even a little bit less than she does. But she does know Azzi that well. And now Paige isn’t just confused, she’s concerned.

She’s off the couch faster than it takes her to inhale, striding across the room and settling down next to Azzi. Azzi scoots away. It’s only a couple inches, maybe less, but it stings in a way Paige isn’t familiar with.

“Hey,” she murmurs, voice hushed so Jana can’t hear, still seated on Azzi’s other side. Azzi turns her head away from her girlfriend. It reminds Paige of when she annoys her younger brother, Drew, a little too much. He always ignores her, because as soon as he stops pretending he doesn’t care, he starts crying. Paige starts to panic.

“Hey, Az, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?” Azzi’s throat bobs as she swallows.

“Nothing.”

“Baby, come on. You wouldn’t give me a kiss this morning and now you look like you’re about to cry.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Azzi insists. She shoves herself off the floor just to sit back down on the other side of Jana. Jana’s eyes widen, darting back and forth between Paige and Azzi in alarm.

“Oh hell no. Do not put me in the middle of whatever argument you guys are having,” she says, already getting up off the floor. Azzi grabs her arm and forces her to stay seated, her own human barrier between herself and Paige.

“We’re not having an argument!” Paige and Azzi say in unison. It makes Paige grin, satisfied to know that she and Azzi are at least still on the same page when it comes to that. Azzi, on the other hand, looks like she’s on the verge of tears again. Paige’s mouth opens and closes in horror as a singular tear slips down her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Az–” Azzi’s up in a second, wiping tears off her face with the back of her hand as she flees the apartment. A room full of eyes turn towards Paige.

“What the hell did you do?” Aubrey accuses. Paige just looks at her helplessly.

“She wouldn’t kiss me this morning,” is the only response she can offer. Her teammates stare at her. Paige pushes herself off the floor, muttering to herself about how confusing girlfriends are, and hurries out of the apartment to go find Azzi.

________

Paige cracks the door of Azzi’s room open slowly. She peeks her head in carefully, like she’s entering a cage with a wild animal and trying to assess how much danger she’ll be in when she closes the door behind herself.

Azzi’s sitting in the middle of her bed, knees tucked up to her chest, arms curled around her legs. She’s staring at the wall, but her eyes shift over to Paige as she enters the room.

“Azzi,” Paige starts, voice soft and concerned. Her eyebrows are furrowed with worry as she approaches. She places each step carefully, like a volcano (Azzi) might erupt if she walks wrong. Azzi glares at her.

“What’s goin’ on, mama?” Paige murmurs. She settles on the edge of the bed, lightly, ready to spring up again the moment Azzi says the word. Azzi hesitates.

“I’m mad at you.” She says it very deliberately, almost analytical, as if she’s trying to approach her emotions scientifically.

“Why’re you mad at me? Did I do something?” Paige asks. She still hasn’t touched Azzi, letting her have space to figure out what she wants or needs to say.

“Yes.” Paige almost lets out an exasperated sigh, but stops herself. She’s making progress with Azzi for the first time all day. She’s not about to let an exhale ruin it.

“Okay. What did I do?” She probes. Azzi turns to face her for the first time since she woke up, her gaze almost accusatory.

“You didn’t invite me to the stupid dinner party,” Azzi bursts out, and now Paige is truly baffled.

“What? Baby, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. We didn’t have a dinner–”

“You didn’t invite me to the dinner party, and left me here instead, which would be fine because I didn’t really even want to go anyway, but you didn’t even ask, and it hurt! And then–” Azzi takes a deep, dramatic breath– “And then you didn’t even come back to cuddle with me after, or talk about how it went, or anything!” The words escape her all at once, like she’s been holding them back, caging them behind closed lips all day. Paige blinks, her hands out in front of her like she’s trying to calm a scared puppy. She doesn’t know when she moved. She doesn’t care.

“I’m lost. What dinner party? When did this happen?” She tries. Azzi flushes a pretty shade of pink. Paige wants to press featherlight kisses all over her face, but she stays right where she is, hands falling back to the comforter on the edge of the bed.

“Last night,” Azzi mumbles. Paige stares at her.

“Baby, I was with you all night. You woke up with me.” She doesn’t mention the dodged kisses or prickly attitude that she also woke up with.

“In my dream, Paige!” Azzi exclaims, like this is something that should have been obvious to Paige since the beginning.

Paige can’t help it. A grin slowly spreads across her face, teeth peeking out from behind her lips. A sharp, surprised laugh escapes her. She clamps a hand over her mouth to stop the sound, but it’s too late. The damage has already been done. Azzi explodes.

“Stop laughing at me! It’s not funny! You didn’t include me and then you didn’t come back to me after, and you never even apologized. It hurt, Paige!” Paige tries to get her expression under control, to school it into something appropriate of comforting her distressed girlfriend, but she’s entirely unsuccessful.

“I’m sorry, Az, I really am, but how was I supposed to know that?” She gasps out between loud laughs. Her body shakes with the force of each one. “You’ve been upset at me all day because of a dream, baby, it’s not my fault I didn’t know what was goin’ on,” she defends. Azzi pouts.

“Yeah, but you could have tried harder to comfort me. Isn’t that your job?” She says, voice petulant and whiny. Paige smiles and reaches over, pulling the younger girl into her arms for the first time all day.

Azzi only manages to keep up her angry, stiff attitude for a moment before she melts into the embrace, letting her body sink into Paige’s lap. She rests her head in the blonde’s neck, breathing in her scent deeply, letting it soothe her. Paige smooths a hand down her back.

“I’m sorry dream-me was mean to you,” Paige apologizes. Azzi can hear the smile in her voice.

“You should be,” she mumbles into Paige’s skin. Paige just keeps stroking Azzi’s back, helping her calm down.

“You could have just told me you had a bad dream.” Azzi pulls away to look Paige in the eyes.

“Yeah, but you would have made fun of me,” she defends. Paige tilts her head slightly, that teasing grin that Azzi loves so much making an appearance on her lips.

“I’m making fun of you now,” she points out. Azzi sighs deeply.

“You’re a terrible girlfriend,” she says. Paige laughs, thumb brushing over Azzi’s cheek gently, reverently.

“No, I’m a fantastic girlfriend.”

“I hate you.”

��You love me. That’s why your dream made you so upset,” Paige states. Azzi glares at her.

“You’re not supposed to know about emotions like that. Bring back my confused, helpless girlfriend.” Paige just grins, kissing Azzi softly. It’s quick and innocent, but it makes butterflies flutter to life inside Azzi’s chest. She melts into Paige’s chest again, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

“Hey,” Paige murmurs, hands brushing the back of Azzi’s neck. Azzi hums. “I love you. You know that, right?” Azzi breathes out her agreement, settling deeper into Paige’s arms. “And I’ll always invite you to my dinner parties, especially if you don’t actually want to go. And then when it’s done, I’ll come cuddle with you. Always.”

“Promise?” Azzi whispers.

“I promise.”

#uconn wbb #dallas wings #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #pazzi fics #fluff

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rainydaygotham · 2 days ago

Text

So, You’ve Decided to Put on the Red Hood Helmet: A Guide

You honestly don’t know what you were expecting. This was a stupid idea to begin with, so of course it went very wrong very fast.

You were all dolled up in that lingerie set that he likes. No special occasion, you just wanted to give him a little sexy surprise since he’s been so stressed lately. You’d love to give him the world, but right now all you can afford to give him is yourself, so that’ll have to do.

Now the mistake here was made when you walked out of the bedroom. Sure, the element of surprise would’ve been compromised if he came home and you called for him from the bed. Like, who wouldn’t immediately know that they were about to have some fun from that? He would get too cocky. But letting him walk into the living room just to be met with your near-nude body prepped and ready for him? That would catch Jason off guard and hopefully put a cute little flustered blush on his cheeks.

However, you really should’ve stayed in the bedroom. Because then you wouldn’t have seen the helmet sitting on the kitchen table, out in the open and tempting.

Jason was a real possessive guy. It was one of the things that made him so hot, his jealous devotion. So sue you for seeing his helmet and thinking he’ll love to see you wearing his gear. Just like how he loves it when you wear his shirt to bed or when he drapes his jacket over your shoulders when it’s cold.

You were so caught up in appealing to his possessive side, that you failed to take into consideration a not-even-unrelated side of the Red Hood. Which was definitely a side so prominent you really shouldn’t have missed it. His paranoia.

As soon as you lowered the iconic red helmet onto your head, an electric chime went off like it was a washing machine or something. You had no idea what that was about but you quickly forgot about it.

This thing smelled like a combination of Jason’s breath and his shampoo. You inhaled deeply in reverence. You missed him too much, despite it only being a workday since you’d last saw him.

It was weirdly heavy? You don’t know why you’d never considered that this piece of tech would be any heavier than a motorcycle helmet, but it made sense. You were looking at the world through a kind of UI at the moment.

You went and found the mirror to check yourself out. Feeling silly, you flexed your muscles in various poses pretending to be Jason. Gotta hand it to you, you made this helmet look pretty cute. Although wearing nothing but lingerie with it was bringing it into slutty halloween costume territory. ‘Sexy Red Mask Costume’, the package would say. See, no copyright infringement there.

Well, that’s enough for now, you thought. You should start on dinner and get it in the oven so it’ll be done by the time he’s finished fucking your brains out. You reached for the helmet to start pulling it off—

*BZZT*

IT FUCKING ZAPPED YOU.

You dropped it immediately, not giving it a chance to pick up the wattage from annoying warning shock to full on electrocuting you. Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. You forgot he and every other bat has a high tech suit that punishes people who try to take them off. Can’t have those precious identity revealed, can we?

You tried searching your brain for any information on how to deactivate Jason’s security measures but were drawing a blank. Whenever he took it off he just reached up and took it off, no fanfare. What was the secret???

Well. Looks like Sexy Red Mask is cooking dinner tonight. Better get that apron…

When Jason came home, he was completely prepared to get his bones jumped the minute he walked through the door. Sorry, but you weren’t subtle with your little ‘i miss you. when are you getting home?’ texts.

You were a horny little bitch, but you were his horny little bitch and you were so good to him that you’d never catch him complaining. He never thought he’d have someone, let alone someone so desiring of him. Your love was a relief.

So yeah, he was expecting the ‘sexy surprise’. Sorry baby but you’re not slick.

What he was not expecting, however, was a slutty pinup of his vigilante identity to be pouting on the couch.

His eyes took in your form. Man, he loved you. Even if your seduction technique needed work. He chuckled as he started shrugging off his leather jacket, and you turned to him,

“Welcome home!” you chirped your greeting, and then carefully tapped the helmet, which he found adorable, “can you please get this off of me? When I put it on, it locked, and now I can’t take it off without being tased.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you gotta give Jason credit, he was trying his best not to full on laugh, “it’ll do that,”

“Just help me, please. It’s really heavy,” you whined.

“Well..” he raked his eyes over your body once again, “would you be willing to wear it just a teensy bit longer?”

Seeing you in his helmet was making him feel some type of way.

You sighed, but no yeah, that’s why you put it on in the first place, wasn’t it? Damn you for knowing your boyfriend.

You crossed your arms, feigning annoyance, “I suppose you can fuck me in it first, yeah,” you giggled.

“Beautiful,” he purred as he started lazily undoing his belt, “You’re beautiful.”

#maybe a full version later #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood x you #jason todd x you #dc x reader

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cosmiclily · 1 day ago

Note

idk if i wanted this before or someone did but can you write about vi and reader having a baby? i really want to see it and vi's thing about babies😭

ivy - part one

★vi x f!reader

wc: 4k

notes: been getting many requests about vi and reader having kids so here it is !!! in the first part they are not having a baby baby but wait for part two !!! 😋 thank you @strawb4kdior and anons for the requests!

Vi had always dreamed of having a big family. She grew up surrounded by noise, laughter, and the constant chaos of siblings under one roof—there was always someone shouting, someone crying, someone laughing. That was home to her. That was comfort.

So, when you got married, there was a quiet—sometimes not so quiet—expectation from her side of the family about when you two would start "popping out babies," as Mylo so charmingly put it.

That first holiday season after your wedding, when you visited her family in Zaun, it felt like the pressure kicked into full gear. Vander, ever the affectionate father figure, gave the two of you a box filled with baby clothes—tiny shirts, knitted socks, and a ridiculous little hat shaped like a mushroom.

“Ay, I’m not saying you’re having children right away,” he said with a teasing grin, pointing a thick thumb toward Vi. “But I know this one. She’ll want a whole football team at home before long.”

You laughed along with him, mostly because it was easier than unpacking the tangle of emotions that followed. But later that night, the laughter faded, and your thoughts grew heavier.

Because the truth was… you weren’t like Vi.

You hadn’t grown up with siblings. There was no chaotic, loving noise. Just you, your mom, your dad, and the occasional visit from a cousin or two. Quiet dinners. Controlled spaces. Predictable routines. The idea of raising a child—let alone several—felt like stepping into a world you’d never been taught how to navigate.

It scared you.

You were afraid of losing the little sanctuary you and Vi had built together—your late-night talks, your slow mornings, your messy, peaceful life. Afraid that having a child would shift everything out of balance, and that maybe you wouldn’t know how to hold it all together.

After the Christmas dinner, once everyone had gone to bed and the house had finally quieted down, Vi turned to you. Maybe she sensed your unease, or maybe you hadn’t done as good a job hiding it as you thought.

The two of you were lying in bed, facing each other under thick quilts, her hand gently stroking your hair as your eyes began to flutter closed.

“You know we don’t have to have kids right away, right?” she said softly, voice low and warm. “Or ever, if that’s what you want.”

You blinked slowly, your chest tightening at the tenderness in her voice.

“I know how hesitant you are about this,” she continued. “It’s a big change. And I get that it’s not just about wanting them or not. It’s about the kind of life we’d have, the kind of people we’d need to become. And if it ever feels like too much... I’d rather just have you. No tiny feet, no bedtime stories, no chaos—just you.”

You looked at her, eyes glassy with exhaustion but brimming with love. “I don’t want to disappoint you,” you whispered. “I know how much you want it.”

Vi smiled gently, brushing her thumb along your cheek. “You could never disappoint me. Family doesn’t have to look one way. It can just be us. And if someday you feel ready… then we talk about it again. Together.”

You didn’t reply right away. You just nestled closer to her, your forehead pressed gently to hers, comforted by the quiet honesty in her words.

And looking back now, that moment—her patience, her reassurance—was what changed everything for you. You hated being pressured into anything, especially something as life-altering as parenthood. But knowing Vi wasn’t expecting anything from you that you didn’t want to give… it lifted a weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying.

And from that point on, you started to look at the world through a different lens.

──────────────────────

A year and a half into your married life, everything felt like it had finally settled into place. You were thriving in your career, pouring your time and energy into several outreach programs and charities—especially those supporting children in Zaun. You’d become a familiar face in the shelters and clinics, and from time to time, Vi would show up during your shifts, bringing you lunch or tagging along to visit the homes where the children were placed.

She always lit up around the kids—laughing, joking, lifting them up onto her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. But one day, everything shifted.

You met Ivy.

She was five years old when she first arrived—thin, quiet, and sharp-eyed, with wild, bright blue hair and big brown eyes that held more weight than any child should ever carry. The first time Vi saw her, something changed in her expression. You caught the way her eyes softened, how her whole body leaned forward just a little, like she was seeing something familiar—something important.

At first, Ivy was timid. She barely spoke to the other children, and when you tried to approach her, she’d only nod or shrink away. But Vi didn’t give up. She spoke to her gently, cracked jokes, made silly faces, brought her little gifts and toy trinkets. And slowly, Ivy began to open up.

It became a pattern—every time you had to stop by the shelter, Vi insisted on coming with you. “Just to say hi,” she’d claim, but you knew better.

One day, you left them alone to deal with some paperwork—endless inventory lists and requisition forms. When you came back, you stopped in the doorway and froze.

Vi was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the playroom, wearing a bright pink tutu over her pants, a plastic princess crown balanced crookedly on her head, and a tiny toy teacup clutched in her hand. Across from her sat Ivy in a matching tutu, proudly holding a stuffed cow in her lap and beaming like the sun.

“Do you want more tea?” Ivy asked, her voice sweet and filled with excitement.

“Yes, please!” Vi said, holding out her cup with exaggerated elegance, pinky finger raised high in the air.

You stood there quietly, heart catching in your throat, watching as Ivy poured invisible tea into Vi’s cup. Their laughter echoed softly around the room, and in that moment, it hit you like a wave.

This wasn’t just another child. This wasn’t just another case or temporary bond.

She wasn’t just someone you were helping.

Ivy was your daughter.

──────────────────────

After you got home, the two of you sat down for dinner, the clinking of cutlery and the quiet hum of the city outside the only sounds filling the space. You pushed the food around on your plate, barely tasting it, your mind too full.

You knew it was time to talk to Vi.

“I…” The word hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You didn’t know how to begin. Vi had formed such a natural, close bond with Ivy—it was effortless, like they’d been connected long before they’d even met. But for you, it felt different. You cared deeply, maybe even more than you could admit out loud yet, but Ivy still looked at you like you were a kind stranger passing through her life.

And you were terrified that she’d never see you as more than that.

Vi’s brow furrowed the moment you hesitated. She turned toward you, concern etched across her face. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I mean—yeah, everything’s fine, I just…” You exhaled slowly, steadying your voice. “I wanted to tell you that I… I submitted us to be Ivy’s foster family.”

Vi’s eyes widened in surprise, her fork falling to the plate with a soft clatter. “What? When did you—?”

��Just before we left the shelter,” you interrupted, rushing the words out before you could second-guess yourself. “I know we said we’d make that kind of decision together, but I saw you with her, Vi. I saw how she looks at you, how she laughs with you, and… I don’t know, I just—something clicked. It felt right in the moment, and I thought, ‘Why not us?’ But now I’m spiraling because maybe it was too impulsive, maybe we won’t even get approved, and maybe—”

“Hey. Hey. Baby,” Vi said gently, reaching across the table to take your hands in hers. “Breathe, alright? You’re not crazy. You’re not wrong. And I’m not mad. Far from it.”

You looked up at her, eyes stinging a little.

“I’m thrilled,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “Ivy’s special. And I see it in you too—the way you look at her when you think no one’s watching. You care about her more than you realize.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Then that’s all that matters. If we get approved—amazing. If not, we keep visiting. We stay in her life. We try again. We don’t give up. Not on her.”

A small, grateful smile tugged at your lips. You squeezed her hands.

Vi smiled back, then leaned forward and kissed your knuckles.

──────────────────────

You had to make a lot of changes to your home before you were even considered for foster parenting.

Vi’s office was the first to go. It transformed into a small, bright room with plain white walls—you’d both agreed Ivy should get to choose the color herself once she settled in. You child-proofed the entire house, securing cabinets, covering outlets, padding sharp corners. It was a whirlwind, too fast by most people’s standards, but you couldn’t slow down.

You knew it was too soon. You knew there were risks, that things could fall apart. But every time Vi’s eyes lit up at a stuffed animal, a little blanket, or a book she thought Ivy would love, it drowned out the anxious voice in your head that warned this might not work. That it might all be temporary.

Vi had even told Jinx—despite your insistence that it wasn’t an adoption yet, just fostering. Naturally, Jinx told everyone else. And soon after, Vander was at your front door with a toolbox, claiming he was there to “help Vi set up the kid’s room,” though you suspected he mostly just wanted to feel included.

──────────────────────

The letter came on a rainy Tuesday afternoon—thin, unassuming, almost like junk mail. You were about to toss it when Vi caught the official stamp in the corner and snatched it from your hand. She tore it open, fingers shaking, while you stood beside her, breath caught in your chest.

Her eyes scanned the page. Then she looked up at you, wide-eyed, breathless.

“We got her.”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

“We got her, baby,” she repeated, voice breaking into a disbelieving laugh. “We’re approved. Ivy’s coming home.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Vi wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close, her face buried in your shoulder. You held each other in the quiet, rain tapping against the windows like applause from the universe itself.

The day you went to pick her up, Ivy stood at the top of the shelter’s worn stone steps, her little backpack clutched tightly in her hands. Her blue hair was tied in uneven pigtails, and her big brown eyes blinked up at you, cautious, searching—hopeful.

Vi was the first to kneel down, soft and open. “Hey, kiddo. Ready to come home?”

Ivy didn’t answer right away. She looked from Vi to you, her voice small and cracking the silence: “Will I get to stay this time?”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. You knelt beside Vi and reached out to gently take Ivy’s hand.

“Yes, Ivy,” you said. “You get to stay. For as long as you want.”

Vi smiled and ruffled the girl’s hair. “We’ve got a room just for you. And guess what? You get to choose the wall color. We’ll put up fairy lights, and we’ve got a bookshelf waiting for all your princess stories.”

“And teacups,” you added with a wink. “Tiny ones.”

That got a smile from Ivy—shy but real—and she gave a small nod.

The car ride home was quiet. Ivy curled up in the backseat with the stuffed bunny Vi had given her weeks ago, occasionally peeking at the two of you in the front seat as if to make sure you were still there. Still real.

When you arrived, Vi scooped her up in one arm and twirled her once in the hallway, making her giggle for the first time that day.

That night, after Ivy had fallen asleep beneath a blanket of stars projected onto her ceiling, you and Vi stood quietly in her doorway, arms around each other, watching the rise and fall of her tiny breaths.

“We have a daughter,” you whispered.

Vi rested her chin on your head and nodded, her voice thick with emotion. “Yeah… we really do.”

──────────────────────

The first few days at home were a mix of quiet observation and small, cautious steps. Ivy was polite and sweet, always whispering “thank you” and “sorry,” even when there was nothing to be sorry for. She kept to herself at first, mostly playing in her room—arranging and rearranging the books on her little shelf or curling up with her stuffed bunny in the cozy reading nook Vi and Vander had built by the window.

But slowly, the house began to come alive in new ways.

Vi showed her how to make pancakes in the morning, even letting her flip one—badly—which left batter splattered on the stove and Ivy in a fit of giggles. You turned laundry folding into a game, a sock-matching race that ended in shrieks of laughter more than clean piles. Every night, Ivy asked for the same bedtime story—the one about the brave knight and the dragon who became her friend.

Then one sunny Saturday, it was time for her to meet the family.

Vi had tried to prepare her. “They’re loud, and they’ll probably bring too many snacks and too many hugs—but they mean well. I promise.”

Ivy clung to your hand as Vander’s booming voice echoed through the house before he’d even stepped inside.

“Is the little one here? Where’s my new tea party partner?”

Vi opened the door, and there he was—massive as ever, with arms wide and a teddy bear the size of a small dog slung over one shoulder. He bent down, eyes gentle behind his tough exterior, and offered Ivy a warm smile. “Hi there, kiddo. I’m Vander.”

Ivy blinked up at him, wide-eyed, then slowly reached out and took the bear, hugging it tightly to her chest. “Hi.”

“I can’t believe I’m a granddad” he said with a laugh, giving Vi a playful pat on the back.

Jinx was next, practically vibrating with excitement as she crouched in front of Ivy. “Okay, so here’s the deal: I brought glitter, stickers, and I know how to make slime that explodes.”

“She’s joking,” Vi quickly interjected, shooting her sister a look.

“Mostly joking,” Jinx whispered with a wink, making Ivy giggle behind the bear.

Claggor, Mylo, and Ekko arrived not long after, each carrying something they claimed Ivy had to have—a toy, a book, a plushie, a puzzle. Claggor offered to help build a blanket fort out of the couch cushions. Mylo challenged her to a card game he swore he never loses. Ekko knelt beside her and offered a tiny wind-up bird he’d fixed himself, its delicate wings fluttering as it chirped.

But soon, you noticed Ivy starting to withdraw—her shoulders tensing, her voice shrinking to a whisper. You knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Too much?”

She gave a small nod.

You gently lifted her into your arms and carried her into the kitchen. “Alright, how about a little break? Just us. We’ll go back in when you’re ready.”

There, you let her help you with the cake batter while she told you a story about a dragon and a pink-haired knight with powerful gauntlets. Vi peeked in a few minutes later, leaning on the doorframe with a smile.

“Hey, baby. Everything okay in here?” she asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you poured the batter into the pan.

“Yes,” you said, glancing at Ivy, who was sitting on the counter with flour on her nose. “She was just telling me a story. Apparently there’s a brave pink-haired knight who slayed a dragon today.”

Vi grinned. “Oh? Sounds like she’s got good taste. That knight sounds very strong.”

Ivy giggled, hiding her face in her hands.

A few minutes later, your parents arrived—quieter than the rest, but just as full of love. Your mom handed Ivy a hand-knit blanket, soft yellow with tiny green daisies embroidered into the fabric. Your dad offered her a small photo album filled with baby pictures of you and Vi—chubby cheeks, missing teeth, wild hair. Ivy flipped through it slowly, like it was a rare treasure.

That evening, the house was full of warmth and laughter. Ivy was now sitting between Jinx and Ekko with her new blanket draped over her shoulders like a cape. Her plastic crown was a little crooked, and she sipped from a juice box with a smile tugging at her lips.

You watched her from across the room, tucked into Vi’s side.

“She’s getting comfortable,” you whispered.

Vi’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you close. “She’s starting to believe this is home.”

You glanced back at Ivy, watching her laugh at something Mylo said, watching her curl up again with her oversized bear and the photo album tucked at her side.

And in that moment, you felt something settle inside you.

You felt whole.

──────────────────────

You and Vi were certain—Ivy was your daughter. There was no hesitation in your hearts. So the very next morning, after your family’s visit, you rushed to your office, pulled a few strings, and quietly set the official adoption paperwork in motion. No more waiting. No more what-ifs. You were ready.

In the days that followed, Ivy blossomed in your home. She had started settling in, becoming more comfortable in the little routines you and Vi had built just for her. She raced Vi to the kitchen every morning, always insisting she had won—even when Vi clearly let her. She claimed the reading nook as her personal throne, often found there with a book in her lap and her bunny tucked under one arm. And twice now, she had asked you to braid her hair before bed. Small moments. Beautiful ones.

The routine you had once feared would be shattered by change had, instead, reshaped itself around Ivy like it had been waiting for her all along.

One quiet evening, the three of you were in the living room. Vi sat cross-legged on the rug, helping Ivy piece together the glittery unicorn puzzle Jinx had given her, while you curled up on the couch nearby, flipping absentmindedly through a book. The fireplace crackled softly, casting warm amber light across the room and filling it with the scent of burning pine.

“I think this one goes here,” Vi said, nudging a piece toward Ivy with a smile.

Ivy took it with a little frown of concentration, studying the image before carefully pressing it into place. “Got it!” she chirped, beaming at Vi.

Vi held up her hand for a high-five. “Told you—you’re a puzzle master.”

Ivy giggled and gave her a victorious high five, then glanced over her shoulder at you, her voice soft, almost offhanded but sure.

“Mommy, look. I did the sky part.”

You froze, breath catching in your throat. Mommy. The word floated through the room settling over your heart and wrapping around it.

Vi’s eyes shot to yours, wide with awe—but you weren’t crying. Not yet. Instead, you were smiling, your lips trembling just slightly, your eyes shining with emotion.

You slid off the couch and knelt beside Ivy, placing your hand over hers, grounding the moment. “You did such a good job, Ivy,” you whispered.

She leaned into your side immediately, tucking her small head under your chin. You held her close, feeling the warmth of her body, the steady beat of her little heart—and something shifted inside you. That trust. That love. It had all found its way home.

Vi moved behind you, resting a hand on your back, her thumb brushing in slow circles as the three of you sat together in the flickering light.

No one spoke for a while. There was no need to. The moment said enough.

Later that night, after Ivy had drifted to sleep—her bunny in one arm, your mother’s daisy-covered blanket draped over her—you and Vi stood quietly in the doorway, watching her breathe.

“She called you Mom,” Vi whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I told you… you had nothing to worry about.”

You smiled, eyes never leaving Ivy’s peaceful form. “Yeah. And you’re always right.”

Vi chuckled softly, then wrapped her arms around your waist from behind. You leaned into her, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder. The kind that said everything you couldn’t find the words for.

──────────────────────

It happened a week after Ivy started school, a week after you signed the official adoption papers.

She had been so excited at first—Jinx had come over and helped her decorate her tiny backpack with glittery patches, and you packed her lunchbox with all her favorites.

You and Vi had walked her to the school gates, knelt beside her, kissed her cheeks, and sent her off with whispered encouragements and bright smiles.

But the glow didn’t last.

By the third day, Ivy was quieter when she came home. She didn’t want to talk much. Said school was “fine,” but her eyes were distant. You and Vi didn’t push her. You gave her space, made her favorite dinner, read her favorite story at bedtime.

But something was wrong, she wanted to stay awake until she physically couldn’t keep her eyes open, you would lay next to her, trying to make her fall asleep, but she would battle until the last second.

Then, one night, she had a nightmare.

You both woke up to the sound of her cries—raw, terrified. Vi was out of bed in seconds, tearing down the hallway barefoot. You followed close behind, heart pounding.

When Vi opened Ivy’s bedroom door, she found her curled in a ball under the blanket, shaking, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Her little bunny had fallen to the floor, the daisy blanket tangled around her legs.

Vi dropped to her knees at the bedside. “Hey, hey, baby,” she whispered, voice gentle but steady. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Ivy looked up at her through tears, lips trembling. She launched forward into Vi’s arms, clutching her like the world was ending. “Don’t let them take me back,” she sobbed. “Please don’t let them take me away.”

Vi wrapped her arms around her tightly, protectively. “No one’s taking you anywhere,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re staying right here, with us. I promise.”

Ivy buried her face in Vi’s shoulder, and in a choked, broken voice, she whispered, “I had a dream they took me away… and I couldn’t find you. I kept calling for you, but you weren’t there.”

Vi rocked her gently, her jaw clenched tight. “I’m always here, Ivy. I will always find you. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

And then, so soft it could’ve been a dream itself, Ivy said, “I knew you’d come, Mom. You’re my pink-haired knight. You always come when I’m scared.”

Vi’s heart broke and mended all at once. She kissed her forehead, holding her tighter than ever. “Damn right I do,” she said, voice cracking. “You’re mine, Ivy. Forever.”

You leaned quietly at the doorway, watching them from the shadows, hand pressed to your heart. Vi looked up at you, her eyes shining with everything she couldn’t say, and you simply nodded. You felt it too.

That night, you brought Ivy into your bed. She slept curled between you both, safe and warm, her little hand clasped in Vi’s the whole time.

And in the morning, she woke with a smile.

The fear wasn’t gone completely—but now, she knew that even in the dark, even in her worst dreams, her knight would come for her. Her Mom would always come for her.

──────────────────────

masterlist - part two

end notes: i don’t know how the system works in other countries so i went mostly with what i’ve seen on tv and what happens in my own country, so yeah!! if anything is wrong pretend it’s not 😛

#vi x reader #arcane #vi arcane #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes #request ♡

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sushirrrry · 2 days ago

Note

Hi Em! I have an idea for a little prompt if you have time:)

2nd person

No smut

I was thinking Harry and y/n are freshy dating so everything is very new and exciting but they are also both kind of nervous and shy around each other:) just something cutesy in the early stages of dating, how they’re exploring their routines, habits etc:)

Set at uni/young adults working their first jobs

Have a nice dayyyyy!

GENTLE

@witch-rry hope you enjoy 😘

Everything about him, about this, it’s still new.

The way he knocks on your suite door, even though you told him he never has to, especially when you’re expecting him. The way your heart does that silly little flutter each time anyway — even if you’re just in mismatched socks and his hoodie that he left at your flat a week or so ago, holding a spoonful of peanut butter mid-air as you meander to answer the door.

Harry smells like outside air and laundry detergent when he steps in, cheeks pink from the cold. The beanie settles on his curls perfectly, and his large, green eyes have crinkled in the corners from where he holds his happiness. He smiles like he’s trying not to; you smile like you’re not trying at all.

He toes off his shoes by the door, carefully, always in that same order — shoes, jacket, hat, then the little sigh he lets out like the day’s finally over now that he’s here with you. You stand there next to him, waiting to lead him into the small flat.

“You’re always eating peanut butter,” he says, amused, dropping his bag beside the door.

“And you’re always late,” you shoot back, but there’s no heat behind it — just that familiar tease that you both like so much, that low-grade buzz that’s settled between you two like static.

He grins, shyly. “Got caught up at work. Again.”

“They must really need you,” you tell him, taking another bite of the peanut butter from your spoon. “Employee of the Year award.”

Harry shakes his head, putting his hands in his joggers with a sheepish response, “I guess – I like being needed.”

You offer him the spoon. He takes it, brushing your fingers accidentally-on-purpose, and for a second the room tilts. He looks at you like you’re magic, and you look at him like you might believe it to be true.

“You still okay for a movie night?” you ask, a little softer.

“Of course – I even brought the snacks this time.”

You follow him when he starts to move over to your couch, “You pick weird snacks.”

“I’m a man of complex taste,” he says, puffing his chest slightly, before collapsing onto your tiny couch that still smells like takeout and cheap candles.

And then… there it is. That quiet beat that follows new love. Not loud, not dramatic. Just two people slowly making space in each other’s lives.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” You ask him, knowing that the kettle had already been on, but wondering if he would like to join you.

Harry turned from his seat on the couch, almost looking like he would get up because he wanted to help you. “Oh – uh, yes, actually. That would be great.” He’s shy, and nervous, and feels as if he needs to help you with everything. It’s what a gentleman would do; but the thing about Harry is that he knows how independent you are, and how much stuff you don’t want help with.

You don’t know his middle name yet, but you know how he takes his tea: plain with just a splash of milk. He doesn’t know where you see yourself in five years, but he knows you sleep with your window cracked open just in case it starts to rain. You’re still figuring it all out — the pacing, the rhythms, the delicate weight of maybe falling for someone too fast. But it’s a type of falling that feels fun and dramatic and soft.

For now, it’s enough. Peanut butter spoons and shared blankets and knowing smiles across the room make sense for you both, and it feels incredibly special to know that you can look at each other with the same hearted eyes.

Harry settles into the far corner of your couch, leg tucked beneath him like he’s still not sure how much space he’s allowed to take up. His hair’s a little damp from the walk over, and it curls slightly at his temples — you try not to stare, but your heart’s doing that thing again, the skip-hop flutter that’s becoming familiar around him. His cheeks are still pink, you wonder if it’s from blush or just from being warm.

You pass him the blanket from the back of the couch without a word. He takes it with a quiet “thanks,” eyes flicking to yours for a second too long before looking away.

On the screen, the movie menu loops again – he let you pick the movie this time, even when he argued that you’d never seen Jurassic Park so it was a must. But he let you choose Little Women because he wanted to watch you watch it more than anything. Neither of you press play.

Instead, you both sit in that still moment, the kind that only happens when you’re not quite strangers, not quite anything else yet. Your flat smells like microwave popcorn and your vanilla body lotion. His knee accidentally bumps yours, and he leaves it there, like maybe he’s hoping you won’t mind if it’s just resting.

Of course, you don’t. You even push back a little bit to let him know that you feel him.

You don’t say anything — just rest your head back, letting the soft hum of the room fill the spaces between your thoughts. It’s new. It's unfamiliar in a way that feels good, like breaking in new shoes or hearing a song you know you’ll play to death just so you can practically feel the words.

He reaches for the popcorn and misses the bowl completely, sending a few pieces scattering onto the carpet. He groans, embarrassed, and ducks down to pick them up, mumbling something that sounds like, “Every time.”

You give him a pitied laugh, just a little, soft and honest. He glances up at you from under his lashes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’s proud to have made you laugh even if he didn’t mean to.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” he says, almost like he felt he needed to thank you for allowing his presence.

You nod, brushing your socked foot against his in an absentminded kind of way. “I like it when you’re here.”

He smiles at that, cheeks pink. Not from the cold this time, you were sure of it.

The quiet stretches, but it’s not awkward. Just… tentative. Like the two of you are standing on the edge of something, peering down into it but not quite ready to jump.

Your hand ends up next to his on the blanket. And then, not long after, in it. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t look at him. But the grip is warm, and it holds.

The movie finally starts playing in the background, but neither of you are really watching. You feel the rise and fall of his chest where he’s settled a little closer now. He smells like cinnamon gum and something clean, like the laundry detergent your flat mate insists on overusing.

At some point, your head drops onto his shoulder. And his thumb brushes your knuckles, once, twice — a steady rhythm that calms something buzzy in your chest.

You don’t talk about how new it all is. You don’t talk at all. But then when the credits roll, and you both stay exactly where you are, you know he’s not going anywhere — not tonight. Not if you don’t want him to.

And you don’t. Not even a little.

#harry styles fanfic #harry wattpad #anon ask #harry styles fanfiction #harry fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fic #sweet #fluff #harry styles fluff #harrystyles #gentle

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nastybuckybarnes · 2 days ago

Text

Coal - Three

Pairing: Alpha!Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Omega!Reader

Summary: Your Alpha gets a wake-up call that he was not wanting nor expecting.

Warnings: A/b/o dynamics, military inaccuracies, language, sexual themes, smut, injuries, lowkey mean!simon, kinda enemies to lovers...

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: did not expect this kinda response to this story ngl but im so so so glad you guys are enjoying it!

~*~

"I don't know how else I can say this. There's no getting rid of her. As long as you remain employed here, these are the terms," Price huffs out, collapsing in his desk chair.

Simon only glares at him.

"But... you do make a valid point," the Captain adds after a moment.

Some tension eases from the Lieutenant's shoulders.

"She's a part of our pack now, and we cannot let that negatively impact our performance on the field."

The very idea of his Sergeants being shit shots simply because a sweet smelling Omega is present is appalling, to say the least.

"I'll have a chat with Laswell, see what her thoughts are. She's going to ask about you," he adds when Simon turns to leave.

The man pauses, one hand on the doorknob, then glances at his Captain over his shoulder.

"She's going to want to know how things are... progressing," he elaborates, "how the two of you are doing. She's already been tossing around the idea of... forced proximity. I don't want to hafta put you through that, Son. I know how you feel about this whole thing and... I just don't want you making this worse on her or on you."

Grunting his acknowledgement, Simon exits the office without another word.

He knows.

He f u c k i n g knows.

Hanging his head he huffs out a heavy sigh then snaps his head forward and yanks his phone out of his pocket.

His fingers hover over the newest contact he was forced to add for a long moment before finally shooting off a text.

He stuffs his phone back into his pocket then heads to the rec room to wait.

You're startled awake by the sound of a heavy fist banging against your door.

Heart in your throat, you rush to check the peephole, your anxiety increasing tenfold when you see who's outside.

Carefully unlocking it, you tug the door open and look up at him nervously.

"When I fucking text you, you answer. Got it?"

You blink up at him a few times in confusion then turn to where your phone lies on your desk.

"I-I'm sorry, I was asleep," you try to explain, rushing over to grab the phone in question.

Simon's firm hand holds the door open, his glare focused on you as you return to the doorway.

"I don't care what your excuse is," he spits, "it could be life or death. You can sleep when you're dead, which you'll obviously be soon if you keep this shit up."

"Okay, I-I'm sorry," you whisper, voice thick as unshed tears sting your eyes.

"Don't be sorry, be better."

His words bite in a way that nothing before ever has, but you find yourself nodding quickly anyway.

"Yes, I'll be better, I promise."

He turns and walks away before you're even finished talking, leaving you stunned in the doorway.

You don't even notice the tears falling until you've closed the door.

Your first real interaction with him and it probably couldn't have gone worse if you tried.

Scrubing your hands over your face you wipe away the evidence of your tears and square your shoulders.

'Don't be sorry, be better.'

The words ring in your ears as you lock your door. They echo through your mind as you strip naked and turn the water on cold.

They pound against your temples as the cool water beats down on you.

They pull your shoulders back as you walk with Price through the mess the next morning.

'Be better' is the mantra that has you chewing each bite of food silently while the rest of the pack chats like nothing is amiss.

Finally, the opportunity to 'be better' arises.

You're sitting at your desk, lids heavy as you read through another book.

Since that first night you've been doing everything you can to stay awake into the early hours of the morning.

From cold baths, to exercising, to reading, to making and re-making your nest.

Your phone vibrating jolts you to full awareness, and you're up and on your feet in the same moment.

It takes a half-second to read the text, another to process it, and thirty-five to get yourself ready to march through the hallways of the base.

You try to move as quickly as you can, not wanting to let your Alpha down again.

Finally, after what feels like forever, you push open the door to the gym with two water bottles held tightly in your grasp.

Soap and Ghost pause their sparring when you enter, and you feel your face screw up in confusion.

Your heart rate slowly returns to normal as Simon approaches and grabs a water bottle from you, taking the second and handing it to Soap.

With empty arms, you stand there, staring at him and waiting for your next command.

You stand there for almost five minutes before Simon even addresses you, and when he does it's just a lifting of a brow as if to ask why you're still standing there.

Slowly, you turn on your heel and exit the room, risking a glance over your shoulder at the door only to find the two of them sparring once more.

The entire walk back to your quarters you ponder what just happened.

You even go so far as to re-read the words on the screen to make sure you're not missing anything.

'Bring two water bottles to the gym.'

You're not even sure what you thought would've happened after bringing the water bottles, but this certainly wasn't it.

And this is only the beginning.

Texts similar to this one start to ring in almost every night.

A text at 4am telling you to bring him tea. Another text at 6am telling you to prepare his plate at breakfast (a plate that sits untouched when he doesn't join you in the mess).

A text at midnight telling you to bring a book to his office and then another when you're on your way telling you to leave it on the floor outside the door.

Though the texts come more frequently, his attitude towards you otherwise stays the same.

It nearly gives you whiplash, and it does nothing to make you feel safer here, in your new home.

And, as if you didn't have enough to worry about, your unclaimed status has become apparent to a few of the more handsy Alphas on base.

"I'm starting to look forward to our little cat and mouse game," one man says, caging you against the wall.

You keep your eyes down and your chin tucked, heart hammering against your ribs.

Seconds before his fingers make contact with your skin he's yanked away from you, an angry Alpha separating the two of you.

"If you're fond of having hands, I'd advise keeping them to yourself. This is the Lieutenant's Omega. Can you imagine all the thing's he'd do to you if he found out you were touching what's his?"

The Alpha stiffens, blood draining from his face.

Only when Captain Price turns to face you does the other man run away, not sparing the two of you another glance.

"Are you okay?"

You don't miss a single beat.

"I'm fine."

He scoffs, as if he's not drowning in the scent of your distress.

"No, are you okay?"

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before settling closed. You can't lie to him, but you can't tell him the truth.

You can't tell him about your sleepless nights, the fear that ices your spine whenever your eyes close. You can't tell him about the image of Simon holding a gun toward you, his eyes icy and cold.

So you say nothing.

"Walk with me."

You obey, falling into a step beside him and keeping your eyes cast down.

The two of you walk in silence for a bit, until you come to a stop outside of his office door.

He digs in his pocket, looking for the key.

"How long has this been happening?" His voice is firm, demanding a straight forward answer.

You let out a heavy breath before answering, and Price can't help but wrinkle his nose as fear overpowers your normally sweet and homey scent.

The key is turning in the lock when you speak.

"Since the first week I got here."

A growl rumbles deeply in his chest and your eyes snap up to his face.

You instinctively break away from him, taking a few quick steps back.

Immediately realizing his mistake, he takes a few deep, calming breaths, then opens the door to his office.

"I'm not mad at you, Omega. You've done nothing wrong."

His use of your title eases your nerves, and the certainty of his words has your shoulders relaxing as you follow him into his office.

He takes his hat off and sets it down on his desk, then takes a seat in the chair, motioning for you to sit down.

You take a seat on the couch along the wall, curling your legs up and shrinking in on yourself.

"If anyone ever bothers you again, you come to us. Any one of us, and we will deal with them." Though he doesn't directly command it, you know this is an order.

It takes a fair amount of self-control for you to stop yourself from scoffing, though.

Sure, he and the two Betas may help you, but your mate seems more than indifferent toward you.

"We're a pack, a family. And... I know Simon might not be the most accepting or agreeable, but we do see you as part of the pack. You're one of us now."

His words tickle a soft spot in your heart and you can't help the tears that well up in your eyes.

Slowly, you lift your eyes to his, and utter what could be one of the most heartbreaking things he's ever heard.

"I wish my Alpha was as kind to me as you are."

Price's shoulders sag and his face falls. He opens his mouth to speak but you're already on your feet.

"I'd better go. Thank you for your help earlier, Captain."

And with that, you take your leave, hurrying through the halls until you get to the safety of your nest.

Captain Price sits in his office for a long while until finally, finally, firing a text off to Simon.

The Lieutenant is in his office two minutes later.

He stiffens upon entry, your distressed scent lingering in the office.

"You would do well to put a mark on that neck of hers. If not for your sake, than for hers," The Captain says, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose.

All of this has, so far, been far more complicated than he had initially thought it would be.

"What are you talking about?"

What else could the Omega possibly have to complain about? It bothers him to no end that you would go to Price with your complaints.

"Corporal Stevens had her caged against the wall, can only imagine what would've happened if I hadn't stepped in. And apparently this has been going on for a while now."

This pisses Simon off for a whole new reason.

"Why didn't she say anything before?"

Who the fuck would even dare to touch you? To put their hands on something that obviously belongs to someone else?

"Have you ever given her a chance to?"

This shuts him up.

Because Price is right. Not once has Simon given you any indication that he is a safe space, someone you can turn to if you're being bothered.

"Stevens, you said?" He asks, a new determination on his face.

Price heaves a sigh, dragging a hand down his exhausted face.

"Don't do anything I'll need to file paperwork on."

A beat of silence passes between the two of them before Price speaks again.

"If nothing else just... be gentle with her. There's... a girl in there, a young one. One whose scared. Very afraid and very lost and she has no one but us. She can be more than just... what you're making her. If you let her."

Though he externally seems unaffected, Price's words have a deep impact on Simon, burrowing in to his core.

It rouses his inner Alpha, and he can't help but feel upset with himself for pushing you away the way he did.

Sure, he may not be on board, but a little Omega like yourself shouldn't be getting harassed by other Alphas who know damn well they shouldn't even be looking at you much less touching you.

Rising to his feet, he turns on his heel and marches straight toward your quarters.

He's not sure what he wants to say, he just knows that he needs to say something. Needs you to know that if people are bothering you you need to tell him so he can make an example of them.

As he lifts his fist to knock, the door swings open and you stumble into his chest.

A gasp leaves your lips at the sudden presence, and a shiver runs down your spine as warm hands wrap around you to bring you back to your feet.

As quickly as they were on you, his hands retreat.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, taking a step back only for your back to collide with the door to your quarters.

He quickly shakes his head, raising one hand up to silence you.

You drop your head, your inner Omega preparing for whatever lashing awaits, but you're surprised when he speaks and holds no malice in his voice.

Well, none for you at least.

"If anyone so much as looks at you in a way you don't like, you tell me. Got it?"

Your eyes find his face and you feel your brows pull together.

"Wh-what?"

He takes an instinctive step forward and you can feel the heat radiating off of his chest.

"Let me scent you."

"What?"

He says nothing, only stares at you waiting for your consent.

All the times you imagined being scented by your Alpha, this was never the way it played out.

Slowly, you nod, tilting your head back to give him more access to your throat.

He wastes no time, one hand firm on your waist while the other tugs his balaclava up over his nose.

A sharp gasp leaves you as his nose drags across your neck, and you can't help but bring your hands up to his shoulders, nails digging in as he begins taking deep breaths.

He huffs heavily against your skin, drowning you in his scent and overpowering the lingering distress that clings to you.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you whimper softly, your inner Omega preening at the proximity, at finally having his hands on you.

A soft rumbling sound erupts between the two of you, and it takes you a moment to realize it's coming from you.

After minutes that, in truth, feel like both hours and seconds, he pulls away. His pupils are blown wide, balaclava pulled back down over his mouth, and his hand on your waist flexes the tiniest bit.

You blink heavily up at him, purring softly as all your nerves settle now that you've been so thoroughly scented.

"Where were you off to?" He asks after a moment, dropping his other hand down to your waist. His voice is huskier than before, deeper and warmer. You want to burrow into the sound.

You slide your hands down his shoulders to rest on his chest, humming happily in his embrace.

"The rec room... Soap..." you trail off, eyes foggy and mind full of haze.

He hums, sliding a hand over to the small of your back and leading you away from your room.

"Don't want you going anywhere on your own. Not until the others here understand who you belong to. Scent should help."

A shiver ripples down your spine at his words.

Who you belong to.

You belong to him. He's scented you, you're his now. He's accepted it.

As he leads you through the halls he can't help but marvel at how pliant you've become. He wonders if you'd put up a fuss at all if he were to bend you over and knot you right here in the open.

His inner Alpha grows restless at the idea, clawing against the heavy restraints the military has ingrained in him.

Risking a glance down at your hooded eyes, he's certain he could ask you to get on all fours and present like the good Omega you are and you'd do it without hesitation.

The conversation between Gaz and Soap comes to an abrupt halt when they see their Lieutenant ushering you into the room, your eyes far away and your scent heavily masked by that of the big man at your side.

"Don't let 'er go anywhere alone," he barks, handing you off to Soap when the Scot rises to meet the two of you.

"What's goin' on?" He asks, brows furrowed at the determined look on Simon's face.

They have a silent conversation with their eyes, and then Soap is tugging you down to sit between him and Gaz on the couch while Simon turns to find the prick who thought it was okay to touch what belongs to him.

"Hey, little one. How you doing?" Kyle asks, a comforting hand finding its way to your back.

You hum happily and turn to him, nuzzling your face into his chest.

"Jesus, if this is what happens when you scent the bird I can only imagine wha' she'll be like once she's claimed," Soap says with a grin.

Though his face is happy and relaxed, Gaz can see the tension in his shoulders. He knows that whatever happened to force Simon to scent you couldn't have been good.

"M'his," you murmur, slowly opening your eyes and looking up at the man.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Said so himself," you boast quietly, a smile pulling at your lips.

Gaz and Soap exchange their own pleased glances before turning their attention back to you.

~*~

Like clockwork, there's a knock on your door the next morning.

Your breath hitches when you open the door and, instead of Captain Price, Lieutenant Riley stands there instead.

He says nothing, only steps aside to give you room to walk beside him.

You're nervous, he can smell it as his hand finds your lower back.

No words are spoken between the two of you as he leads you to the mess, and no eyes follow as the skull-faced Alpha fills up a plate of food then ushers you to your usual seat.

Butterflies swarm your belly when he places the plate down in front of you, then takes his usual seat beside Soap.

There's a brief moment of silence around the table before Gaz gives you a bright smile and wishes you good morning.

Price's eyes connect with Simon's and he gives the Alpha an approving nod, the corners of his mouth turning upward at the energy of the pack.

His pack.

A prickle of anxiety races down your spine and you straighten immediately, eyes darting around for the source.

Your fork clatters to the table when you finally meet his gaze, and you shrink in on yourself a little.

A man, an Alpha, has his steely glare focused on you. His face is more blue and purple than anything else, his neck is secured in a brace, and his right arm is in a sling.

Quickly, you turn your gaze back to your food and pick up your fork, not wanting to make a scene anymore than you're sure you already have.

A low growl rumbles from across the table and you lift your gaze to the man in question, only to find his eyes focused on the injured Alpha who cornered you against the wall.

When you look back over at him, his eyes are on the ground.

A soft breath of relief leaves your lips, one that does not go unnoticed by your pack mates, and then your eyes are drifting back to Simon's only to find them already locked on you.

Your breath hitches and you find yourself stuck once more, unable to look away no matter how much you want to.

His brown eyes lack the usual layer of ice that would frost over them whenever he would look at you. Now, there's something warm in them.

It's such a drastic change from the Alpha that brushed past you that first day in the hall, the one who referred to you as 'a pet'.

A complete 180 from the Alpha who would summon you to the gym just to bring him a water bottle.

Or maybe not.

That night, a text wakes you from your light slumber.

'Bring two water bottles to the gym.'

Sighing heavily, you force yourself to your feet and trudge out of your room to obey his command.

When you get to the gym, however, you're surprised to see no one inside.

Taking a hesitant step forward, you sniff the air, searching for his -now familiar- scent.

You catch it a second too late, and then he's on you. Big arms wrapping around your frame from behind, one hand holding your throat.

A strangled squeak leaves your lips and the water bottles drop onto the floor.

"If you're not with one of us, you can never let your guard down," Simon's voice growls lowly in your ear.

You whimper, trying to tug out of his grip but he doesn't relent.

"There's a reason why everyone who knew you has been led to believe that you're dead. If you don't start watching your back, you will be."

Finally, he lets you go and you stumble forward, panting heavily.

"You're going to learn to fight."

Your brows draw together and you slowly turn to look at him, not understanding.

"That's why you called me down here?"

A slight dip of his head is all the response you get.

"I-I... at least let me get changed," you try, taking a step toward the door.

He sidesteps directly in your way, forcing you to collide with his solid chest.

He's wearing a tight black t-shirt, leaving his thick tattooed arms on full display for your hungry gaze.

His hands grab your wrists, forcing you to stay put.

"The kinda men who want to hurt you aren't going to wait until you've got yoga pants and running shoes on," he says stoically.

Now, in such close proximity, you can finally get a better look at him.

The skull plate has been discarded, a black balaclava all that covers his face.

Freckles lightly dot the exposed skin you can see, and his lashes are blond.

Your Alpha has blond hair.

"Why do people want to hurt me?" You ask.

Your voice comes out as a meek whimper, and it tugs on his heart.

This is exactly why he's refused Omegas before.

"Mostly because they can. You're small, weak. A thing to be conquered. Men want that. Alphas want that."

You frown up at him, letting your little hands go limp in his arms.

"But... I have your scent..." and one day I'll have your mark, is what you don't say.

"That fact alone draws danger." He releases your arms and leads you to the center of the room, circling you like you're his prey.

"You'll never overpower an Alpha. Not physically. Run. Always run. Your scent is too sweet to hide, but it can confuse. Strip down as much as you can, throw your clothes in opposite directions. It will, at the very least, buy you some time. And if you're ever in close proximity with someone who wants to hurt you..."

He trails off behind you and you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Your instincts take over as he pounces, and you quickly sidestep, turning to face him.

"Wait!"

"Your enemy won't wait," He hisses, coming at you again.

This time you slip under his arm, sprinting as far away as you can in the limited space.

"You're not my enemy," you gasp, turning around only for him to be right in front of you.

"Right now I am. And you're caught." He grabs your throat with one big hand. His grip isn't hard enough to hurt, but it is enough to assert his dominance over you.

"You're easy to catch, anyone could have their way with you, knot you, claim you. Is that what you want?!"

His words strike a nerve and before you know what you're doing you taste blood in your mouth and his arm drops away from you.

Simon stares at you with wide eyes, shocked at the feral look on your face and the harsh growl rumbling in your chest.

The bite didn't necessarily hurt, but it was more than enough to stun him for a moment. And a moment is the difference between life and death.

Maybe his Omega isn't as helpless as he thought.

The momentary pause gives you enough time to process what happened, where the taste of blood is coming from, and then you're covering your mouth with your hands.

"I-I'm so sorry!"

He shakes his head, "don't be. That was perfect."

You can't help but preen at his words, his approval, his praise.

"Let me clean this," you whisper, taking a closer look at his forearm.

He says nothing, you're moving before he has a chance. So instead, he watches you.

Watches as you exist in your truest nature, caring for him even after all he's done, all he's put you through.

You grab the first aid kit from the wall and hurry back over to him, ushering him to sit down and kneeling in front of him.

He extends his arm to you, his eyes on your face the entire time as you clean and dress his wound.

Your fingers tremble the slightest bit when you touch him, and you immediately notice the way goosebumps rise on his skin.

Without thinking, you look up at him through your lashes only to find his intense gaze already focused on you.

Your scent spikes, a hint of anxiety tainting the sweetness, and he finds himself naturally exuding his own calming scent.

Finally, you finish bandaging him, smoothing your fingers over the gauze on his wrist only to gasp when his other hand snatches yours up.

He turns your hand over in his, using his other hand to lightly, like the kiss of the moonlight, dust over your skin.

It's a short moment, and then he's releasing you and the careful wall he's built up between the two of you is put back in place.

"You did good. You're tougher than you seem," he says softly.

You give him a half smile.

"I hope I don't have to be tough too often."

#simon riley x reader #simon x reader #ghost x reader #alpha!simon x omega!reader #alpha!simon riley x omega!reader #ghost x omega!reader #tf141 x reader #ghost x reader a/b/o

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jjwolves · 18 hours ago

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Hello, you know how ENA has the opportunity to pet most if not all the animal like entities in Dream BBQ? Could I get a writing of her petting the Human Reader because:

1. They can.

2. It’s in her personality to do that.

3. Cuteness Aggression.

And notice how it’s Meanie’s hand that’s always petting the babies, make of that as you will.

TURN OFF YOUR TV •• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••

What: 5 Headcanons of ENA the Worker X Reader

Who: ENA the Worker, from ENA Dream BBQ (by Joel G)

How Much: ~800 words, ~3 mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G, Divider -> @cafekitsune

Warnings: None, Besides Slight Angst

You’ve been hanging out with ENA for a while, and while you adore her, and she you, you realized after your fourth time needing saved that you weren’t cut out for the unpredictable, intense journeys brought on by her employment. At the time, ENA was on a mission that required two people: One would be the lookout and the other would need to blow on a lever which looked like a pinwheel to open the door to an ice temple in the sky. At least, that was the plan on paper. What actually happened was more like this: you were captivated watching ENA at work and an irate wind farmer found you perched in your crow’s nest, trapping you in a giant popsicle as punishment. ENA had a job to do, but she dropped it to help you escape. After that, the temple was on high alert for 'rude bipedal entities' and the mission was impossible.

Ever since then, you’ve decided to stop coming on adventures, much to ENA’s surprising displeasure. “WHAT! You’re my partner in business, you lazy worm! What do you mean you’re ‘sitting this one out’?!” You were just so tired of letting her down, you explained. She did far better on her own, and you didn’t want her to get in trouble with her job or anything. ENA wasn’t hearing it, and Meanie wasn’t getting the job done. It was time to sell. “OK. Yes, the mission didn’t go as expected. But there’s no need to be a solo practitioner over getting distracted.” You gulped nervously, to which ENA gave a blank (knowing?) smile and looked thoughtful for a moment. “We’ll have your finances straightened out soon enough.” You had no idea what that meant. Little did you know, she was already setting a plan in motion.

ENA began inviting you on miniature adventures where the stakes were lower, although she was doing her best to be subtle about her intentions. “There’s an errand I want you to go on with me. Dual investment!” “Here’s an offer you can’t refuse: An upstanding angler wants us to help him find the Devil’s Toybox, and the only thing we need to do is help steer the boat!” “There’s a water factory which has run out of water, it seems. They need a tough customer to run on a wheel so they can keep the sky open long enough to get ice. Sounds like it should be easy to help them with their recession.” They’re all pretty simple jobs, meaning that you don’t screw them up as much as you do the big ones. ENA notices, though, that these smaller jobs still aren’t perking you up the way she thought they would. So, she starts giving you little rewards to help put some pep back in your step.

You help ENA keep a ladder still so that she can grab a high-up library book which has a stickman trapped inside. You are rewarded with a self-eating apple. You hold the angler to make sure she doesn’t fall into the inky lake, and you all crack open the Devil’s Toybox to find creepy little puppet versions of everyone on the boat. ENA gifts you a snowglobe with a rooster inside which points to anything that looks like a sun. You and ENA take turns running on the wheel, and after the factory is running again, she gives you a metal hat with oni faces on it. While you appreciate the gifts, you know that ENA is trying to recondition you to make you feel better about going on missions with her again. And ENA realizes fairly quickly that the gifts aren’t lifting your spirits the way they ought to. Salesman couldn’t get the job done, so maybe it should be Meanie’s turn.

ENA continues on her quest to resurrect your moxie. Gifts don’t work as she expected, so she switches to a new form of reinforcement. After another little job is finished, instead of her Salesman side trading you something, she lets her pale side take over and do whatever feels right. No more calculations, just feeling. Before you even know what’s happening, ENA is sitting next to you, her pale claw stroking your head, taking time to comb through it and occasionally circle it around her finger. Her voice is gruff but caring. “That stupid mission… You have a thick skull, but even you should know that I don’t take you on missions because I want you to do something for me. I want you to do something with me.” Hazily, you open your eyes and see that she’s looking straight into yours. You tell her that she doesn’t need to bribe you anymore. “But don’t think you’re not getting off the hook that easy! We’re adding this to the routine. Get used to it!” You don’t argue. You just focus on the rare Meanie smile presented to you.

#ena x reader #ena fandom #ena joel g #ena dream bbq #dream bbq ena x reader #ena dream bbq x reader #x reader #imagines #imagine blog #writeblogging #writeblr #writers on tumblr #ena headcanon #headcanons

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hedwig221b · 2 days ago

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Fake/pretend relationship sterek fics 🥹

Here you go!

Waiting In The Wings by stereksterek

Melissa folded her arms and stared at Stiles, “I’m still having a hard time believing that Derek Hale, of all people, is your boyfriend now.” “Yep! Derek’s my boyfriend! We’re totally rocking the whole relationship thing. I mean, we’re no Scott and Allison when it comes to PDA, but we’re both very affectionate behind closed doors. It’s kind of hilarious actually, because some people think that Derek doesn’t even like me when we’re in public, just because he growls or glares at me from time to time. But we’re just a misunderstood couple, y’know… Kind of like other star-crossed lovers out there. We’re basically this generation’s Romeo and… Miguel.” Melissa was grinning so wide that her face almost hurt. Stiles had wildly overcompensated, and now she knew he was lying. “If you and Derek are boyfriends, you won’t have a problem inviting him over for dinner then.” Stiles malfunctioned for a full second before squawking like a dying bird, “Dinner?!”

Let’s Play Pretend (For A Little While) by greenleaf

Derek asks Stiles to pretend to be his boyfriend for his sister’s wedding. It doesn’t go as Derek expected. It turns out better.

Best Laid Accidents by disast3rtransp0rt

Stiles was halfway down a perfectly lovely doom spiral when Derek said a series of words in such an uncannily chipper tone that Stiles was pretty sure he’d paused the panic attack to stroke out: “That’s wonderful news, Keith. Congratulations on the internship. You’ll have to swing by our place sometime for dinner while you’re in town. Right, babe?” “Huh? Oh. Yeah.” Derek moved his hand from bracing Stiles’ shoulder to resting over his hip, pulling him gently sideways until the gap between their bodies disappeared. “Stiles is an incredible cook.” “I look forward to finding out.” The lines of Keith’s posture had tightened significantly since Derek started talking but Stiles could barely take in all the little details like he generally would. His brain was working overtime to go at half its usual speed. Had Derek just– Did Derek really mean– Was he seriously–

An Omega for Christmas by AnotherSigh

Derek is a successful alpha, has a good job, a nice house and a stable pack. But Chritsmas and his birthday are coming. He is going to be 32 years old and his family is expecting him to bring someone home. He doesn’t need an omega to be happy. But he might have told a lie that he has a boyfriend and he would take him home for this Christmas party. Maybe he was lucky that a certain hyperactive omega told the same lie.

Sometimes It Takes a Misunderstanding To Know Where You Stand by gryvon

"Stiles!" Oh, that was not a good tone. Stiles froze, then remembered Derek was three hours away and couldn't strangle him through the phone. "Do you want to explain why your father thinks we're dating?"

The Wedding Date by Renmackree

Stiles Stilinski has a problem and with his cousin's wedding coming up, he may need to swallow his pride and tell the truth. Laura Hale has a better idea.

He's Not Mine by Sunnee

Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.

smells like nirvana and lasagna by haybelle

“Derek, I agreed to be your fake date, not be smothered by you. What are you doing?” Derek lifted his head slightly from Stiles’ neck, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I’m scenting you, you idiot. If my family is going to believe we’re dating, then we need to smell like it.”

It’s Not Pretend When It’s Real by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"At least we got this far,” Stiles argued. “Could’ve been worse. For now, they know he’s taken by someone in the pack.” “Mm hm,” Lydia said, giving him a look. “You realize that you are now going to have to pretend to date Derek, right?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what a hardship. That sucks, boo hoo.” He motioned Derek emphatically. “He’s like, my best friend.” “Hey!” Scott insisted. “He’s like, my second best friend,” Stiles amended. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. Right?” He turned to grin at Derek, who was scowling at him.

The Rental Boyfriend by EvanesDust

It wasn’t part of Stiles’s plan to actually get a rental boyfriend just to experience a first date. It also wasn’t part of his plan to stumble upon Derek Hale’s page and hire him for a few hours every week. And Stiles definitely hadn't meant to actually start falling for the guy. …or the one where Stiles hired Derek to be his boyfriend and promptly fell in love. Oops.

According to Plans by eldee

Five times Stiles and Derek pretend to be boyfriends, and the one time they didn't have to pretend at all. (Or: in which Stiles' plan for senior year is completely ruined by a supernatural creature stalking him.)

part-time soulmate, full-time problem by Renmackree

Stiles had seen it all in his five years of supernatural shenanigans, but never in his life would he have guessed returning to Derek's old stomping grounds in New York, especially under the guise of Derek's magical Mate. It was going to be an exciting summer.

Like it or Not by Halevetica

Stiles works as the editorial assistant at Vogue. He loves everything about his job except for his boss, Derek Hale. Derek Hale is the worst and Stiles hates him. But when Derek drags him to the yearly awards dinner within the company, he is forced to play boyfriend for the night to make Derek's ex jealous. Things couldn't get much worse…or so Stiles thought.

I Would Fake Forever With You by Halevetica

Derek Hale is the black sheep of the family, always has been. That's why he moved to Seattle. Now he's got a job he loves, a nice apartment with an incredibly hot and endearing neighbor, Stiles Stilinski. One night when Derek's overly large and demanding family shows up early for their yearly visit, they run into Stiles, who is accidentally introduced as Derek's boyfriend.

Not Your Disney Romance by Wrennefer (Wrenegadeone)

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

The One Where They All Go to New York for a Wedding by Chioces

Derek is invited to New York for a wedding, of corse it is customary for an Alpha to bring his entire pack to such an event, and Stiles somehow becomes his fake date. Oops!

Mates and Mushrooms by mikkimouse

Derek's not that excited about spending three days at a conference getting propositioned by every Alpha with a single pack member. Stiles has a plan to make it stop. It might be a great plan…if only Derek weren't head over heels in love with him. It might be an even better plan if someone at the conference didn't have a vested interest in Derek staying single.

The Newlywed Game by Captain_Loki

Stiles is (still) single when the pack's getaway to the Caribbean comes by (oh misplaced optimism); lucky for him Derek is committed to being uncommitted and even after all these years is still powerless against Stiles' unique forms of persuasion. Cue a romantic getaway for two: sun, sand, and sarcasm abound…and the two roped into competing in the Resort's version of the Newlywed game. Only it's completely obvious it's going to end in disaster. Probably homicide. Most probably homicide. Plot twist: It doesn't.

Relationship Status: It's complicated by kellifer_fic

Okay, I know this is a huge stretch for you, but can you please pretend you're like, into me?

El Corazón del Lobo by heartsdesire456

Derek drove back into Beacon Hills on a Tuesday morning seven years after he had left it last with one single thought: “Why am I doing this?” But in his heart, Derek knew exactly why. (In which Stiles suffers temporary memory loss and any serious emotional trauma could give him permanent damage so Scott calls Derek to come back and fake like he and Stiles are still together so that Stiles can heal)

pretty in tents by kellifer_fic

Even though he’s making fun of it, Stiles thinks the whole thing sounds awesome and, like most stuff these days, the experience is going to be totally wasted on Scott.

Wear Me Down and Wear Me Out by HakeberHooligan

The Ninth Decennial Greater Northern American Werewolf Symposium has arrived, and Stiles is dead set on going. Derek thinks he holds the trump card when he explains to Stiles that as a human, the only way he'd be safe is if he was Derek's mate. Of course, that deters Stiles approximately zero percent, and that's how he ends up parading around as Stile's (fake) mate. He should know better by now that where Stiles is involved, things have a funny way of never going according to plan.

A Challenging Puzzle by emsmittens

Stiles was a puzzle, one that Derek was desperate to solve but then, a new werewolf showed up in town. A new werewolf who was hell-bent on making Stiles his mate, which led to Stiles and Derek pretending to be mates. Was it too late for the pining alpha or could he claim Stiles as his real mate just in time?

I Smell Just Fine..! by PaigeRhiann

Derek sighed again, “There’s something Stiles needs to understand” he said “It’s a known fact that Werewolves are very possessive. That’s why Lydia and Allison haven’t been targeted because they smell like their mates – like pack” Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed “Why don’t I smell like pack” he was clearly offended. “It’s quite hard to smell like pack when you’re not a wolf or sleeping with one” he answered.

Kiss Me on the Hood of Your Car by cigamfossertsim

When Stiles needs a quick get-out-of-jail-free card to get him and Derek out of a jam, he claims the other man is his boyfriend. After a bout of necessary PDA to prove their story, Stiles’s mind is rife with fantasies about the broody werewolf that he’s largely suppressed up until now. Fantasies including Derek’s car. During the long, awkward car ride back to Beacon Hills, Stiles tries to hide his growing attraction from Derek’s keen senses unsuccessfully.

Bean Howlin' For You by MadMim

Stiles is an omega who has been crushing on his boss, Derek, for the last year. When Derek approaches him asking for his help to be his fake boyfriend as a buffer during dinner with his parents Stiles can't find the words to refuse. It makes Stiles realize how intense his feelings for the Alpha are; a realization that leads to unforeseen consequences. Luckily he isn't alone in his attraction and when his heat hits him unexpectedly he doesn't have to suffer through it alone.

[masterlist link]

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itsfennix · 1 day ago

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THIS THIS ALL OF THIS!!!

It is so, so clear (at least to me) that Solas was loyal to a MASSIVE fault when it comes to Mythal. The relationship, regardless of if it was platonic or romantic, was the textbook definition of unhealthy. There’s an inherent power imbalance due to Solas’s allegiance as Mythal’s right-hand-man. Sure, one could equate this to a knight and his queen/princess, but still…….

Additionally, I really appreciate that Veilguard made it clear that Mythal was not nearly as benevolent as she seemed. Like what OP said about the slavery discussion! I always thought it was strange that Solas was this big “none of us are gods,” rebel leader, Breaker of Chains™️ …but was reverent of Mythal……. Even when we were in her temple, seeing these ancient elves with Vallaslin, marking them as slaves to Mythal the Goddess.

Solas has his internal war against his nature, his nurture, and his inbetween right in front of our faces. CONSTANTLY. The inq can say “but wasn’t Mythal one of the Evanuris?” when Solas brings up the truth of the vallaslin in Trespasser. Solas defends Mythal, saying that “she was the best of them” and she “cared for her people. Protected them.” Oh? Because it’s just SOOO much better to be enslaved to a polite person with a god complex than a blatantly abusive person with a god complex??? /s

Solas KNOWS that his reasoning is flawed when it comes to Mythal. He KNOWS, not even that deep down, that they both are WRONG. Another great example of this is the different endings so here’s an additional SPOILER WARNING

If you try to convince Solas to bind himself to the Veil, he’ll talk about not wanting to disrespect the people he’s already wronged by simply giving up. This is yet another hint that Solas is doing this out of his warped perception of justice and duty. The inquisitor asks him to stop, and he considers it. But he ultimately says the vow he made earlier to Mythal outweighs what happened in Inquisition. Again, Solas WANTS to stop. He KNOWS he’s wrong. He KNOWS the opportunity for amends is there.

But he’s so used to tossing aside his morals and nature for the whims and expectations of others. So it takes Mythal officially releasing him from her service for him to stop, just as it took Mythal officially requesting his presence in the mortal world for him to abandon his spirit form. Solas is willing to do anything, say anything, give anything, take ANYTHING to get the outcome he believes is required of him by someone else.

I was discussing the other three endings with a friend earlier today, because it really drives that point home. If you decide to trick Solas instead (and succeed), he’s actually kind of… resigned to his fate. In fact, he remarks that he’s impressed by your wit. He, who prides himself on the reputation he built of being the most clever of them all, has been outsmarted. And honestly, he should’ve guessed that exact trap. He REALLY should’ve! It was borderline obvious, especially to a veteran general such as himself. He does then snap and say you can’t understand what he’s been through, that he is “…a fool. Who has finally met his match.”

However… if you successfully fight him… He’s not nearly as pitiful. Instead, he’s absolutely fucking FURIOUS when you bind him. He goes feral on you, and then belittles you as a mere mortal whereas he is “…a GOD.”

Yep, that’s it. He said it. Solas, who hated the idea of godhood and resented the false gods of the Evanuris, proclaimed himself a god.

I told my friend about how much that difference broke my heart, because it truly shows that Solas will change EVERYTHING about himself to do whatever he thinks is best/required of him. He isn’t innocent, no, not even close. At his core though, he is still there. He is still wanting to have better, do better, be better.

Ultimately Varric was right. Solas comes up with excuses and justifications because his pride rests on his usefulness, in a way. He truly did need someone to sell him a better option. Unfortunately for Varric, Solas was tied to his past vow too much to focus on the present. But once he was released from that vow? He doesn’t hesitate to choose that better option. He catches his breath and then immediately binds himself to the Veil, making a new vow.

Time and time again, Solas proves that he is never whole. He is never settled, never stable, never revealing his true nature. Because he has been denied that nature. Ironically, he said of Cole “a spirit cannot change its nature simply by wishing.” Perhaps this was something he told himself as well, justifying the horrible things he’s done because he couldn’t possibly go against his wise and benevolent nature if he did.

Solas is a beautifully written character that has forever changed how I view my own storytelling, characterization, and even how I approach critical thinking in moral issues. He couldn’t be nearly as effective without the lore surrounding him, which makes him that much more real to me. While Veilguard felt far too removed from the rest of the franchise to me (in many ways), I did really enjoy it both as part of a series and as its own game.

The whole 'refuge for Mythal' thing is really interesting bc it shows that Solas really saw Mythal as being on his side when it couldn't be more obvious that she enjoyed the power of being queen of the Evanuris. He calls it a 'struggle' in the regret memory, but I don't think she was struggling as much as he thinks. Even Felassan realises how delusional he is about her. It's one of many things Solas is in denial about.

That said, it does seem like he was much more aware of Elgar'nan's evil than she was; I truly believe that Mythal found a kindred spirit in Elgar'nan and thought that she was the right one for him. She tempered him and mitigated the harm he did as much as she could (which doesnt seem to be that much, in all honesty). Whether or not they had romantic feelings for each other is up for debate, but I think it's very possible. There was likely an element of tension at being evenly matched in the way they were that gave their relationship a pathological edge. It was only when Solas told her about the Evanuris using the power of the Blight that she finally decided to take him seriously and challenge her husband and the rest of the Evanuris head-on.

It's also really revealing that the Blight was her final straw. Mythal obviously had no issue with slavery as long as her slaves were treated well. It's very reminiscent of real world attitudes some had towards their slaves ie that as long as you don't abuse them it's okay. They don't understand the fundamentally unethical nature of owning another person. It's why I don't buy the benevolence retcon because slavery is inherently cruel--something that both Solas and an elven Inquisitor can argue with Dorian about.

Yeah, Solas really is an unreliable narrator with Mythal and I really wish we'd had more perspectives other than his. I long to see Mythal in all her cunty glory but alas it will never be

#solas #mythal #datv spoilers #datv discussion #solas dragon age #Veilguard discussion #character discussion

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j2archives · 21 hours ago

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yet to be tainted.

priest!sam x fem!virgin!reader, TW religious themes, fingering, praise, sweet talk, porn w/some plot, (small) brief mention of masturbation if you squint, reader wears a dress, reader is guarded by her parents, etc — 16+ advised, 1.2k.

Ever since he laid eyes on you, Sam found himself locked in a silent war with himself. Plagued by the image of you every time he dared to say a night prayer. Instead, he ended up with damp sheets and sweaty hands. He’d gotten into the habit of dismissing the help of a nun, preferring to change his own sheets more. He swore to keep this secret to himself, keep it between him and God. But now? He wasn’t so sure he could resist that sweet temptation anymore.

Today was no different while preparing for the morning service and wiping down the pews. Despite knowing that his flock wouldn’t most likely arrive until another hour, Sam figured he needed to distract himself somehow. He couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror, much less could he carry himself with confidence. The more he thought about it, the more he found himself falling into the grasp of the devil’s arms.

“Father? Are you here?” The moment he heard your sweet tone, he turned around. He hadn’t expected your presence— but he also hadn’t expected you to be alone. Your parents were always by your side when he saw you, always monitoring you like a hawk. His eyes drifted down from your face to your breasts, then the curve of your hips before he caught himself. What was he doing? Eying one of his parishioners like this?

The straps to your dress were thin, one neatly placed on your shoulder while the other seemed to have a hard time holding up. All he had to do was reach out and- No.

You still were waiting for a response from him while Sam stood there frozen in place. Still processing your arrival.

“You’re early to service today.” He forced a smile on his lips, trying his best to compose himself. But the weight was setting in, you came alone. You weren’t chaperoned. Sam knew your parents, knew they would never allow this. How come you were standing before him now?

You looked down to your heels for a moment before meeting his gaze. “I, um— I wanted to see if you needed any help… Before service I mean.” He could see the flush warming up your cheeks and he could feel a real smile peeking through his time. This wasn’t the first time you’d seeked him out, staring at him with those round, doe eyes with a pink tint shading your cheeks— While your parents greeted fellow neighbors and family friends.

“Well I think we’re good for right now unless you’d like to help me light candles in the chapel?” This was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He was purposely getting you alone with him, no one to supervise either of you. But if you were just lighting candles, there’s no harm in that… Right?

He also couldn’t say no to the soft smile that graced your lips, eager to assist.

With a nod, he extended his hand out. “It’s just next door, not a far walk.” Once your hand fell in his grasp was when he realized just how perfect you two fit together just like this.

After lighting the candles, he found himself unable to tear his attention away from you. Those wide, curious eyes could lure anyone in. Whatever you’d ask of him, Sam knew he’d do it in an instant. His eyes darted down to your lips for a brief second— but before he could catch himself, you met his gaze.

The air felt charged suddenly, as if a flip had been switched once you locked eyes. You found your breath stolen away, struggling to breathe for a moment. It was almost hypnotic how he looked at you. As if he could devour you whole.

Your feet moved before you could stop them and soon enough, you were kissing him. Stepping yourself right into foreign territory.

Sam’s breath hitched, his hands hovering above your waist. He froze for a moment but as the seconds ticked by, he found himself accepting your embrace. He pulled you closer by your hips, pressing your chest against his. Just… taking in every inch of you wasn’t enough. Tearing at the hem of your dress wasn’t enough. He wanted to be one with you, he wanted to be connected with you.

Backing you up against the wall, he clawed at the straps of your dress. Sliding the white lace down your shoulders as his lips found the top of your breast. You let out a whimper at the sudden attack, hips bucking involuntarily once you felt him pressed against your core.

He wanted more, needed to hear more of that falling from your lips. Sam lifted his knee between your legs, watching as you started to grind against him. The sight was merely pornographic just then.

“Is this okay with you, Honey? Tell me to stop and I will, yeah?” He was sure this was your first time, judging by the gasps and the desperate way you clawed at his shoulders— you hadn’t done this before. He was the first to ever lay hands on you like this and as perverted it was, it just made him ache even more.

“Please, Father,” You breathed out, the way the title slipped from your lips had him letting out a groan against your flesh. “I got you, baby, I promise. But you gotta relax for me, yeah? Can’t make you feel good if you aren’t relaxed.” With your nod, he let his fingers drift beneath the hem of your dress. Finding your clothed cunt within seconds and then pressing his thumb flat against your clit.

“oh, god…” Your legs threatened to shut at the sudden contact but he held them open. Sam knew how bad you needed this and he would be an idiot to not provide. The clock was ticking and he couldn’t just leave you like this, all worked up and needy.

“‘atta girl, c’mon, spread ‘em for me, sweetheart. Don’t shy away now.” Once his lips met yours again, he swallowed the whines leaving your lips with greed. He kept his thumb pressed firmly, his middle finger rubbed against your slit but he didn’t dare enter. As much as he wanted to be inside you, he knew this was a lot to take even now.

You were soaking through the fabric of your panties, whimpering against his lips as you got closer to the edge. Your hips bucked against his hand, begging for more friction in which Sam happily obliged.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, baby. Jus’ let go, right here in my arms with me. I know it’s a lot but it’s gonna feel better, just let go, honey.” He coaxed the best he could, gentling his touch on your thigh as he kept a steady pace. The sob you let out of his name was enough to push him over the edge as well. His release soaking the fabric of his boxers as he let out a low moan.

He peppered kisses along your jawline, all the way down to your collarbone. Whispering sweet praises against your skin as he carefully moved his hand away. Sam did his best to smooth out your dress but he knew you’d have to clean up. You both did.

“That was so good, baby, yeah? You did so good. Let’s get you cleaned up before everyone starts to show.”

Taglist @laceyvelvetcake @mccartneyqp @xoswiftieprincess @starzify @adorifyy @ambiguous-avery @rositaslabyrinth @bejeweledinterludes @insensiblelimerence @immodestly-marina @samlou @mostlymarvelgirl @ultravi0lence14 @wa1ks @h8aaz

#sam winchester #j2archives writes sammy ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆#sam winchester x reader #supernatural #priest!sam #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester smut #spn x reader #priest sam winchester #sam x reader #virgin!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #supernatural 2005

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kissmezero · 2 days ago

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𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄. ⭑.ᐟ - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ: There simply weren't enough slow burn dbf!joel fics. This one is for all my readers who yearn for the tension & are in it for the long run. Multipart! MDNI!

ᴡᴄ: 1.7k

. . . . . . . . . . .╰──╮╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . .

Your dad was a working man. The get-your-hands-dirty & come-home-covered-in-oil, kind of working man. And despite you being his daughter, he expected the same out of you, although it was clearly not your calling, as you were the least handy person you knew. But regardless, it made him happy to see you try & so every summer between college semesters, there you were, either in his garage or his best friend, Joel Miller’s, trying your best to look busy. For the most part, all you did was hold a wrench or pass one of them a funnel, standing awkwardly in your baby doll top & flip flops. Every once in a while, you'd grown familiar enough with the lingo to insert an opinion or two, but those moments were few and far between. Still, the men appreciated your company, and regardless, you were praised & typically bought dinner afterwards, so it was a win-win situation. At least enough of one that this little arrangement had become something you looked forward to when you came back home.

You’d just finished your last semester of college & officially had a bachelor's degree, which meant there was no more retreating from your childhood home once August rolled around. As much as you loved your father, he could get suffocating and times, and you weren’t sure how long you were going to last before you went apartment hunting. You said goodbye to all the friends you made & it was tough, but you all kept in touch with a text here & there. You especially missed your best friend, who somehow ended up in all the same classes as you, but lived on the opposite side of Texas. Mostly though, you just enjoyed the familiarity of being back in Austin, standing inside of Joel Miller’s sweltering hot garage & listening to some kind of 80’s classic you didn’t recognize. In the four years you'd grown, it seemed nobody else had changed. Your dad was there too, half his body submerged under Joel’s truck, which was steadily leaking black oil. You assumed that wasn’t supposed to be happening from the sound of Joel’s frustrated grumbling & pacing. Last time you saw him, you could have sworn he was less grey. Why you remembered that detail, you weren’t sure. It made him look gentler, more approachable somehow.

“Yeah, it’s completely busted.” Your dad commented, wiggling his lanky body out from under the car. His knees cracked as he stood, clearly not made for getting down on the ground anymore. He was a stubborn man and would probably work until he croaked. Like father, like daughter, at least on the stubborn front.

“Just my luck.” Joel huffed, tossing a dirt-stained rag over his flannel. His arms flexed beneath the cloth. You had no idea what was going on, just that they both seemed to be done & you’d be gifted some takeout soon. Your stomach growled. “Was supposedt’ be hauling some lumber to a contractor in the mornin’.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Ah.” Your dad waved him off with a huff. “You can use my daughters, she ain’t got anywhere better to be.” And just like that, you were being thrown into something you had absolutely no interest in. You didn’t really have anywhere better to be; all your friends were long gone by now, but still, you took slight offense to the comment. “She could get some of them smaller planks in the back, I’m sure.” He continued. You shot him a look that read something like ‘please shut the fuck up’ but you knew what was done was done. Like you observed, stubborn.

“I don’t wanna be puttin' nobody out, I can just make a couple calls.” You felt hopeful watching Joel reach into his back pocket, & then your dad opened his mouth again. Your shoulders slumped.

“Nonsense, I’ll give her the gas money for it.” You huffed, eyes bouncing between the two, trying to gauge if you’d suddenly become a ghost. You normally didn’t mind being the helping hand, but asking for your opinion first would have been nice.

“I’m right here, y'all are aware of that, right?” There was obviously some annoyance mixed with the sarcasm. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up at the ass crack of dawn & help load some dingy old wood that was probably much heavier than you could carry onto your truck.

“I’ll buy ya breakfast.” Joel offered, that sweet southern drawl making the offer harder to resist than it normally would have been. You’d never turn down free anything, especially not food. So you nodded, finalizing the conversation & the three of you headed inside.

. . . . . . . . . . .╰──╮╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . .

The night came & went much quicker than you would have liked. Summer was supposed to be for sleeping in & by the looks of it, the sun was barely even up. You tossed a pillow over your face, muffling a loud groan. Despite how much you wanted to scream at your dad for putting you up to this, you didn’t want to wake him. Your comforter smelled freshly washed, so soft and warm that dragging your feet over the bed took genuine convincing.

You couldn’t be bothered to make yourself look presentable, especially not this early in the morning. It was just Joel & you suspected you wouldn’t even be getting out of the truck anyway. So after you threw on a hoodie that reached your knees & a pair of shorts, you were out the door, hissing against the chilly morning. Joel, like the working man he was, already had multiple 6 foot wooden boards pinned under his arm, walking across the street towards your driveway. He looked just as tired, his eyes still glazed over from sleep. Your eyes flickered over to the bed of your vehicle, which was already half full of the boards. Your stomach turned, feeling a little guilty. At least that's why you assumed it turned. Maybe you were craving that free breakfast you were promised, it was too early to decide.

“Mornin’.” He greeted in his polite southern fashion. It felt too formal. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Morning.” You responded, your accent much less heavy, but still there. You stood awkwardly with your hands tucked into your hoodie pocket, playing around with the truck keys that sat in there. “You could have shot me a text or something, would have woken up a little bit earlier.” Which was the truth. You didn’t appreciate the interrupted sleep, but you liked being the good neighborly girl.

“That's all right, couldn’t sleep.” You wondered why. He’d never tell you, had never been much of a feelings kind of man. “There’s only a couple more in my garage.” He groaned, tossing the ones he already held into the back with a loud thwack. The sound rattled you a little, and you wondered how that had not woken you up earlier.

“I’ll go grab em’.” You began feeling a little helpless, but he waved you off, already turning on the heels of his boots. You thought the whole point of you helping was so the old man didn’t have to carry all of it by himself. Clearly, he was stubborn as ever.

You decided to make yourself semi-useful & go ahead & get the truck warmed up. A light layer of dew and frost still lay against the windshield & the black paint, which would pose as a problem. Texas was just annoying enough that, despite the day being in the nineties, the morning air was often quite cold. Once the sun decided to peak, it would go right back to record-breaking temperatures. You grabbed the bar at the top of the truck door & heaved yourself into the driver's seat, huffing as you did so. That never got easier. With a quick crank, it let out a loud purr, the type that sounded less like a sports car & more like an engine that was about to give out. You winced. At least your heat still worked; it felt nice against your already numbing fingertips. A knock sounded on the window & before you could even turn your head, Joel was opening the driver's door with a scowl.

“The fuck you doin?” He asked, as if the answer were so obvious. You stared at him, dumbfounded, mouth open as if about to say something, but not quite sure what. He took the hint & continued. “Get your ass in the passenger seat.” It clicked, still you didn’t like it.

“This is my car!” You protested, throwing your hands up in the air, unsure of why, because all attempts to argue with him would be fruitless.

“I’m not gonna let you drive me around, I’m a grown ass man.” He paused, nudging his head to the side. “Get moving.”

“You clearly fucked up your truck, how do you know I want you behind the wheel of mine.” You continued to argue just for the sake of arguing. You didn’t even want to drive, not really. You'd much prefer to nap on the way.

“I didn’t, smartass, it has an oil leak.” He huffed, looking at you expectantly and unmoving. His hand rested on the roof of the car with a thud.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” you retorted with a shrug, trying your best to bite back a laugh. If there was one thing you loved about Joel Miller, it was pushing his buttons. Nobody else was ever brave enough, and somebody had to keep the man humble.

“Ya’ got five seconds.” His gaze didn’t tear away from yours, the man just continued to linger as stone-cold as a statue. Curiosity got the best of you, dared you to stay put. That was until he started counting down.

You rolled your eyes & shimmied towards the edge of the seat so you could hop down. Instead, you found Joel’s hand on your waist, helping guide you gently to the ground before he jumped into the seat himself. You were thankful the transition was fast, or else he would have seen the weird hitch in your throat that threatened to spill into a loud choke. Pollen, you blamed hoisting yourself up in the same manner, except this time on the passenger side. He looked over to make sure you’d buckled before reaching around against the back of your headrest, looking out of the windshield, & backing out of the driveway. The whole truck smelled of black coffee, pine, and Joel’s shampoo. You thought you might start choking again. Jesus, this was going to be a long drive.

next part.

. . . . . . . . . . .╰──╮╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . .

#joel miller dbf #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #dbf!joel #joel miller fluff #slowburn romance #tension #kissmezero

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practistyles · 1 day ago

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drunk

(everyone wants him extra)

In which Y/N drunk calls Harry while on a night out and he comes running. (based on this ask. thanks!!)

word count: 1.1 k

series masterlist here.

Y/N rarely ever got drunk. She’d told Harry that she hated the peer pressure that came with, the idea that you could only have fun with alcohol in your system. This is why she didn’t really like partying, because you rarely ever found sober people there. Y/N usually found it entertaining to be the only sober person in a room, but only for a little while.

And Harry hugely respected that. He was all for a good party, and obviously he would love it always if Y/N came with him, but she had her own thing going on and anyway he liked having her all to himself most of all.

Today the roles were switched. Y/N told him that she was having a night out with her friends, and Harry didn’t expect to feel so excited for her. She’d expressed nervousness about it before, so he was really happy that she was trying it out with her friends, who she’d said were party animals.

Harry decided to go all in for this reversal of roles, and decided to spend the night in his room, scrolling on his phone, maybe trying to finally start writing his paper that was due next week.

And then his phone rang, loud and jarring in the silence of his room. He reached for his phone on his sidetable, and his heart did that usual soaring thing when he saw Y/N’s name.

He answered, slightly confused, because it was almost one thirty in the night and she should be out there dancing.

“Hello?”

“Harryyy,” Y/N’s voice said from the other end. Her voice was slurred and higher pitched than it usually was. He heard some kind of chanting in the background.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked.

“I can’t find you,” she said, sounding deeply betrayed. “I looked everywhere and you’re just not here.”

Harry blinked. “Well, baby, that’s because I’m at home. Remember? You went out tonight?”

There was a long pause, then she said, “Oh. That makes sense.”

He was already out of bed, grabbing his jeans. “Are you having fun at least?”

“Nooo,” she groaned. “It’s kind of hard to stand and I wanted to say hi to you.”

“What?” Harry said. He looked around for his keys, ready to leave the house. “Are your friends with you?”

“No, this man is not my friend.”

Harry felt a kind of panic forming in his chest. “Y/N. What man?”

“I told him you’re a boxer with huge muscles!” she giggled. Then, she whispered, “Can you bring me your big gloves?”

Harry snorts. “I’m not a boxer.”

“Well, he doesn’t know that.”

He put his shoes on and stepped out his door. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here! I’m waving. Can you see me?”

“God,” Harry groaned. “Go into your phone and into my messages and send me your location, okay? Can you do that?” He knew it was a reach.

“Oh my god, Harry! There is a shiny dog here. He’s so cute. Can we take him with us?”

“Okay, stay put. I’m coming to get you.” Harry assumed she was in the club next to the statue of Dixie The Dog. He wondered how he would convince her that they couldn’t steal a statue.

*****

He got his flatmate Zayn’s car, and when he drove up he found her sitting on the pavement with her hands over her knees. She brightened up at the sight of him, and Harry parked at the side of the road and stepped out.

“My boyfriend!” Y/N said loudly. A few heads nearby turned, some of them even the girls Y/N had come out with. One of the girls came over to them. “Hey, are you Harry?” Harry nodded as Y/N clung onto his arm.

“Look, Anna! He’s here. Isn’t he so pretty?”

Anna smiled. “She’s been asking for you for the last hour. Said that you were gonna beat up someone for her?”

Harry nodded solemly. “Sounds about right.”

“She’s all yours.”

“Unfortunately,” he muttered under his breath, but he smiled. “Thanks.”

Harry held onto her waist and guided her to the car. He tried looking around for the ‘man’ Y/N mentioned, but there was not many people around.

“Harry,” Y/N started again, slightly swaying. Harry held onto her tighter.

“Yes, baby.”

“I want to get married.”

Harry chuckled. “Okay.”

“It’s going to be beautiful. You’ll cry.”

“I bet.” He opened the car door for her and guided her in, but she turned around to face him instead, crowded up against the car. She leaned forward with puckered lips to kiss his nose.

“Hi,” she whispered and then broke out into little giggles. Harry smiled. He felt suddenly overwhelmed with affection for this girl. He leaned froward to bump their noses.

“I can’t believe you like me,” Y/N whispered to herself, but Harry felt almost sad at her words. He cradles her jaw in his palm and lifted her face up. “I much, much more than like you, Y/N.” He hoped he sounded sincere to her hazy mind.

She smiled brightly, then said. “You have to be the husband. I will not marry if you are not the husband.”

Harry laughed. She won’t even remember this, but she’d just asked him to marry her. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “Gladly, Y/N. I would love to be your husband.”

Y/N gasped dramatically. “You’re only twenty one!”

“You’re the one who asked me,” Harry shrugged. “Now can we go?”

Y/N nodded, and then got into the car.

On the short drive back, she kept asking Harry random questions, then she kept apologising for dragging him out of bed.

“Sorry you had to come get me.”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”

He took her to his place and tucked her onto the couch while he grabbed a glass of water. She squinted at it like it offended her.

She frowned at it. “I want to eat something.”

“Okay, I have some fruit if you want. But you need to drink this first.”

“No.”

“Drink it before I pour it on your head.” Y/N took the glass from him but rolled her eyes.��

Soon, she was curled up under his arm in bed, her makeup smudged, hair a mess, but comfortable in Harry’s clothes. She looked like the msot adorable thing ever to him.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she mumbles. “You’re my favourite person.” She yawned.

“I know. Go to sleep, darling.” he replies, brushing a kiss to her forehead.

She lifts her head to grin. “Were you worried?”

“A bit. You call me at 1 am screeching in the middle of the road.”

“But you like rescuing me,” she says, sleepy. “You can do it anytime you want.”

“I do,” he murmurs. “But next time, don’t try and steal a dog statue, okay?”

She giggles again, already half-asleep. “No promises.”

****

thanks anon for the idea. this was so fun to write!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #everyone wants him #harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #one direction #practiwrites #fratrry #frat!harry

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