#her chest looks like it would weigh her down rn

[shortcakelils]

lily looks like shes gonna sing Jolene

[iliketangerines]

Good day Tangerine, I hope you're doing well. Sorry if I have many requests for you, I hope it isn't too much of a bother. But I really love your writing and I was hoping you'd be fine with writing fluff?

With a reader who's struggling with her classes to the point that she's going to flunk because that subject is weighing her grades down. Still, she hides this and tries to study harder with her own but can't understand it. When Bi-Han catches her staying up late one night, crying, he offers to teach her.

At first, he's like your typical strict Asian mother who would snap when you don't understand, but when you begin to tear up, he realizes that being rough won't help you and tries to teach you softly. Turns out all you need is practice and patience.

just need some patience

a/n: i'm imagining like a teenager bi han who's still training to be grandmaster rn

pairing: bi han x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Bi Han usually isn’t up at this hour, late at night and wandering the compound

for some odd reason, he can’t fall asleep and had tried to stay as still as possible to try and trick his body into going to sleep

but it hadn’t worked and so now he was heading to the training rooms to try and work out some of the energy when he passes by the library

no one else should be awake at this hour, and yet the light was on

Bi Han stalls for a moment, wondering if he should go in and see who’s there or just worry about himself

his curiosity wins out, and he finds you at a desk, back bent and feverishly scribbling something onto a scroll

you’re in one of his classes with one of the masters, usually sitting in the front and furiously taking notes as they go over the lesson for the day

he walks over to you silent, and you don’t even notice, too absorbed with what you’re trying to learn, and he recognizes it as the homework one of the masters at the Lin Kuei had assigned today

you write feverishly and have no idea he stands right in front of you until Bi Han squints at something you wrote and says that you got it wrong

the chair nearly tips over with how you jump out of your seat, but you place a hand over your chest and let out a wheeze as you say that he had scared you

he scoffs at you ready to give you a quick retort, but then you press him further about what you got wrong, nearly jumping out of your seat and over the table

Bi Han raises an eyebrow at you, wasn’t it obvious?

pointing at where you made the error, he explains that you should’ve done this instead and takes the pencil from your hand and writes it down

your eyes narrow in confusion, and in a meek voice, you ask him to explain why what you had done was wrong

this was stupid, and he didn’t really want to be here right now

stepping back toward the exit of the library, Bi Han tells you it’s self-explanatory and goes to blow off some steam in the gym, but then you grip onto his arm tightly

he has to fight all instincts to flip you onto your back and crush your bones, but you fall to your knees with a loud thump as you continue holding his hand and start to beg for him to teach you

you’re failing this class, and at this rate, you’re pretty sure that master at the Lin Kuei hates you because of how close you are to flunking

you need to pass this class to continue on with your training at the Lin Kuei, so could you please please please teach you

your eyes are wet and sad, and Bi Han feels like he’s looking at a kicked cat that was sitting in the rain all day as your lower lip starts to tremble as you try not to cry

letting out a frustrated breath, Bi Han rolls his eyes and agrees, and you start to thank him profusely

he just picks you up the scruff of your neck and drags you over back to your seat and sits down in the chair and starts to explain to you what you were doing wrong

you’re slow, so much slower than him, and he doesn’t understand why you just don’t get it

his voice grows shorter, snappier, as you get the following problems wrong over and over again, and his patience snaps, hissing at you and asking why you can’t figure this out like everyone else

you flinch backwards, and your voice wobbles as you try to explain that it just didn’t make sense, that you just can’t figure it out

Bi Han sees how tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes, and he realizes how he’s completely distracted you from learning

he takes a deep breath, collecting his mind for a few moments, and mutters out a quick apology to you before going back to the problems

maybe explaining the problem and method in a different way would help you better, and so he formulates a plan, tapping the pencil against the table as he thinks

he writes a few practice problems for you off the top of his head and hopes they make sense, and he walks through them with you

your wipe your tears away and go through them slowly and thoroughly, learning each step and going through the problems quicker and more confident with every solved question

a few hours later, you had finished the homework with flying colors, and Bi Han felt a sense of pride well up in his stomach

was this what it felt like to lead others? perhaps training to become grandmaster wasn’t so bad after all

the sun barely peeks over the horizon,and Bi Han realizes that the both of you have stayed up all night in the library

but you give him a big grin, and you wrap your arms around him tightly, hugging him before scurrying off with your schoolwork back to your quarters to wash up and squeeze in a quick nap

he sits in the library in silence, trying to process the action, and his cheeks heat up as he thinks of how your chest pressed against his

shaking away the thought, Bi Han goes off to his quarters to freshen up and get ready for the day, but he goes through the rest of the day with a smile on his face, thinking of how you had smiled at him

perhaps he would have to continue your late-night tutoring sessions

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — around sounds nice

FINALS: Seoul's Univeristy of Multi-Arts (SUMA) VS. Yonsei University

WARNINGS ; suggestive(ish), mentions of revenge p*rn (4.1k)

for the first time in a while, jang wonyoung was excited to play volleyball.

it was an odd feeling, in retrospect. volleyball, at least for the past three or so years, weighed on her back like her last name. it was full of expectations, of goals that she didn't set (or was forced to, anyway).

it was suffocating, humiliating. the sport that proved her comfort, that provided her safety, was one of the causes of her stress as of late.

yet suddenly, now that yoo jimin was out of the picture...

wonyoung was glad that the locker room didn't seem like a battlefield anymore.

"i see the hickeys haven't faded." yujin snickered, her face now littered in fading bruises, and the cut on her eyebrow and lip healing nicely.

wonyoung blushed. as much as she hated jimin, part of her wished that she would pop up to shut yujin up.

"do you have to mention that every time?"

her fingers traced over the marks on her neck, wonyoung's face burning as she remembered the hours with y/n, alone in her dorm room. she knew it was a goodbye, the older girl's fleeting touches a reminder of y/n's worsening mental state, and wonyoung's inability to do anything.

wonyoung shook her head. now wasn't the right time, not when yonsei was here.

yujin nodded as if what wonyoung said was already a known fact. "absolutely."

"you shouldn't even be talking to me, unnie." wonyoung mumbled. "coach said no talking with the members."

yujin pouted, slumping down next to gaeul who was currently listening to her pregame playlist. the taller girl wrapped her arm around her girlfriend, trying not to sulk.

she knew that she was single-minded. all of her thoughts were about volleyball and gaeul. although she finally got to talk to her girlfriend again, yujin was dying to play.

besides, she was the captain.

"well," she huffed, gaeul rubbing her back to calm her down. "coach said me and jimshit can sit on the bench today, so i think i'm off probation."

wonyoung shook her head as she laced up her shoes. "is that what you told gaeul-unnie?"

yujin sulked more, and wonyoung couldn't help but wonder how gaeul managed to put up with her for her entire probation.

(wonyoung always seemed to have found yujin outside the building right after practices, quite literally kicking rocks.)

the door swung open, coach seulgi glancing around as the girls huddled. everyone knew who she was looking for, a certain raven-haired, rage-fueled demon nowhere to be found.

seulgi knew what to expect. the season was tough on her star players and the inner conflict between her team, but she hoped that jimin was still that girl she had heard about so long ago.

after all, she accepted this position to work with yoo 'the ace of korea' jimin.

"girls," she smacked her coach board as she sat, garnering their attention. "i know you all probably have nerves, especially since two of our players are gone-"

"nothing we haven't dealt with before, coach seul." yena puffed out her chest, and everyone could see the uncanny resemblance between her and a certain semi-aquatic bird.

"don't call me that." seulgi shook her head, watching as chaeryeong hit yena's shoulder. "look, we've played against yonsei. we know that they're the only team this year that has a good roster with great plays and a good coach. we've went through their playbook, their rotations, and i know we're down two, but we have something they don't have."

jinsol's hand shot up in the air, an aura of seriousness clouding her. "the power of friendship?"

hikaru, thankfully, lowered the taller girl's hand.

"do any of us look like colorful horses?" hanni couldn't believe that jinsol was her best friend.

"they were ponies, actually." haewon interrupted, her voice monotone. the words flew out of her mouth, but the stares of her teammates made it register almost immediately. "what?"

like usual, seulgi ignored them. she was used to their liveliness, anyway. "we have resilience. we have brains and brawn."

yunjin pointed to her left. "jinsol has a 2.0 gpa."

"enough about my gpa."

"don't let your nerves get to you out there, okay?" seulgi scolded, pointing at all of them (but more specifically, wonyoung). "i know it's easier said than done, but you need to look out for each other. remember that it's my job to yell, and yours to play."

"aye, aye, coach."

seulgi rolled her eyes, yena's voice loud and clear. she was gonna miss the older girl, but she hoped that this year, she'd pass her classes so seulgi would never have to see her again.

that is, unless yena decided to pursue volleyball beyond university.

a shiver went down her spine.

shaking the thought off, her gaze moved to wonyoung. her eyebrow raised at the faded marks on her neck, but the coach was just glad that wonyoung had enough decency to try to hide it (unlike other members on the team).

"any words for us, cap?"

wonyoung looked at yujin, who stared back at her. she frowned and looked around the room before remembering that she was the fill-in.

"oh." she cleared her throat. wonyoung wracked her brain for anything she could think of, but she was never the leading type. she never understood how yujin could do it so effortlessly. "um, i know this year has been hard for us, more than others... but we've gotten this far. even if we don't win, we've learned from this. our team is smarter than theirs, stronger."

she didn't think they would win. they needed yujin, and although she hated to admit it, they needed jimin. aside from herself, they had lost the top two scorers on their team. they had lost yujin, their all-rounder, and jimin, their star player. sure, yunjin was back, but with her being out for sixty percent of the season, it wasn't enough.

yonsei had everyone. they had the fifth and eighth-ranked hitters on their team, and a competent setter with an amazing playbook. their defense, from what she remembered last game, was near impenetrable. even their coach was an olympian, much like seulgi.

they had barely won, and that was with yujin and jimin.

yet with all the odds stacked against wonyoung, she couldn't help but feel excited for what was to come.

with a soft smile, wonyoung spoke.

"it's a win either way for me."

y/n thought the drums during the last suma versus yonsei game was bad, but somehow, this was so much worse.

everything was brighter, louder than before. the crowd littered with painted faces, a distinguishable divide between red and blue. the signs were bigger this time, and from where she stood, she could see at least a dozen shirtless men on the yonsei stands.

('what's wrong, suma? scared? jealous?')

behind her, loud yells could be heard, chants of 'vicky' and 'yawnsei' being shoved into her ears. y/n didn't mind the 'yawnsei' part. in fact, if she weren't so busy dying from overheating, she'd join in.

she just wished those stupid 'vicky' fangirls would stop chanting wonyoung's name over and over again.

the lights dimmed, the first few players coming out, wonyoung being one of them.

suddenly, the shrieking got louder, and y/n couldn't help but roll her eyes.

she was thankful for uchinaga aeri, and y/n was genuinely excited to sit next to wonyoung's long-time friend. aeri was caring and was the reason why y/n was even functioning at this point.

she just wished aeri didn't pick a spot close to the 'vicky' fanclub, even if her friend was in the group.

y/n took a sip of her water, her eyes never leaving wonyoung's figure.

she couldn't help but smile as the volleyball player looked her way. it quickly faded, however, the fan club behind her suddenly begging for wonyoung's hand in marriage.

y/n grumbled. "so annoying."

aeri and alex glanced at each other, their eyes meeting knowingly.

aeri snickered, nudging the young actress. "you only think they're annoying because they're holding cardboard cutouts of your girlfriend."

"no!" y/n tried to deny it as best as she could, but she knew her face betrayed her. it didn't help that she remembered some random girl with a 'vicky' necklace.

she took a breath, the atmosphere of the gym heightening her already intense emotions for wonyoung. y/n didn't have a right of feel this way, to act as if her love meant something when she herself didn't mean anything to wonyoung anymore.

"she's not my girlfriend."

still, wonyoung was a past that y/n would live over and over again if she could.

yuri, who hadn't been listening much to whatever the hell was going on, scanned the team as they gathered at the bench. she could see yujin clear as day. the girl looked taut, obviously frustrated but keeping sane.

"damn it." yuri groaned, fishing out a thousand won bill. "jimin's not on the bench."

"told you that ass wouldn't show." alex took the bill out of yuri's hand, smirking lightly as she high-fived aeri.

"wait a second." chaewon took a closer look at wonyoung, noticing some... odd shadows. "are those hickeys on wonyoung's neck?"

all of them: rei, jiwon, yuri, minju, chaewon, alex, and aeri, glanced at y/n. most of them already knew what happened, being told one way or another. it was just funny to focus on the evidence instead of the truth.

"what?" y/n covered her neck. it felt hot, a blush creeping up. "what?"

minju rolled her eyes, turning her gaze back onto the sea of blue. she was proud of y/n decision. it just took her by surprise that the younger girl wasn't jumping at the chance to get back with wonyoung.

ever since she's known y/n, she was always wonyoung's. her l/n y/n. minju's impression never changed, even when y/n was with jimin.

the stands across from them moved in unison. it looked like an optical illusion, their blue shirts, sweaters, and face paint making it hard to distinguish one from another. the only thing minju could differentiate from the crowd was the cutouts of the yonsei players.

the crowd moved to stand as yonsei's captain began to speak.

almost immediately, minju's eyes shot to the top left, a hidden corner that no one would notice. that is, if they stood up.

minju nudged yuri from beside her, gesturing to where she was looking at.

they could see it, them. a pair of bored, hatred-filled eyes stared into the court, into wonyoung while another scoured through suma's stands, searching for something.

jiwon followed their gaze, landing on the couple(?).

"is that jimin?"

rei rubbed her shoulder as the younger kim flinched at her own words, not used to the lack of formality. it wasn't that jimin deserved respect, of course not. she knew that jiwon was too nice for her own good.

maybe that's why she loved her so much.

"with her hand on minjeong's waist? yeah." yuri muttered, huddling closer to the kim's and away from y/n. she didn't want to remind her of jimin, after all. "that freak is insane."

minju looked at her girlfriend, the reminders of what she and jimin did lingering. she told no one what she woke up to the night after they confronted minjeong. she didn't even tell chaewon.

even though she deleted it, the videos were still engrained in her mind. it was a copious amount of videos, all of which she watched through.

she knew that her and chaewon weren't together then. minju knew they had technically broken up. yet, as irrational as it was, she just wanted chaewon to wait for her to get better.

she shook her head. minju didn't want to think about that, but would rather listen to her girlfriend's conversation.

"so," chaewon smiled at y/n. sue her for being nosy. "since you and wonyoung have matching love bites, i'm guessing that means you two are back together?"

"no." y/n shook her head. "we aren't."

"huh?" yuri's head perked up. y/n, like always, never updated the group chat when she needed to. granted, yuri was throwing every threat under the sun at minjeong at any given moment, but she would've paused to catch up with her friends. "that's stupid as hell."

minju elbowed her. "yuri."

"what?" yuri glared at her friend. "those idiots love each other."

y/n burned a bright red once more. her love was plain as day, as clear as snow. it burned proudly, even to the point where it was willing to consume anyone in its way.

"it was my decision." y/n wasn't gonna let it burn wonyoung, not if she could help it. "i wasn't gonna put wonyoung through all my hurt."

"you two could've worked through it, like me and yena."

"maybe." y/n looked onto the court, smiling as wonyoung goofed off. she hadn't been like that since the beginning of freshman year. "but i'd rather miss her than hurt her, even if it's by accident."

minju looked at chaewon.

oh.

wonyoung didn't know how long that stupid ball had been up in the air.

it hadn't even reached the first kill, yet somehow, yonsei had managed to get a rally going. their libero had managed to barely receive chaeryeong's jump serve, giving suma a free ball.

gaeul immediately knew that wonyoung wanted it. she could feel her demeanor change, but it was something she's never seen before. it was ravenous, just like jimin had been. wonyoung seemed to have the sharpness that she's always lacked, the ferocity.

yet this was different from jimin's.

the ace was bound by her rage. her obsession with being the yoo jimin, of having something to prove to her dad everyone weighed on her like chains.

wonyoung seemed free.

gaeul set the ball.

it was too high. her nerves got to her. the lack of yujin's presence, of her lover and of her captain, got to her. she felt it the moment the leather left her fingertips, her arms too taut. the numbness turned cold as her fingers buzzed.

still, wonyoung somehow managed to reach it.

the ball rocketed, nearly straight down. it hurled and before wonyoung could blink, yonsei's libero managed to get under it, tossing it up into the air.

another free ball, in favor of suma.

yet again, they did the same thing. this time, gaeul had set up yunjin.

received again.

a setter dump.

received again... and again, and again.

suma couldn't keep the energy up, and soon, by sheer exhaustion, the ball was spiked out of bounds by wonyoung herself.

she could practically hear jimin taunting her in the crowd as the whistle blew. the chants to her left got louder, the sea of blue ridiculing her.

wonyoung took a breath.

they weren't losing too badly.

after the first set went to yonsei, suma managed to bounce back with two in a row. although close, 25-23 and 27-25 respectively, a win was still a win.

unfortunately, yonsei had switched to a different setup. from all the footage they had watched, yonsei had never fully committed all their best defensive players at one time until now. they had always been known for their attack, even with their amazing defense.

they had managed to lock wonyoung down, always ensuring that three blockers were in front of her at all times. somehow, they jumped higher than before, but that only meant one thing to wonyoung.

she had to jump higher.

still, it took an entire set to adjust, to find her rhythm once more.

2-2, suma and yonsei tied.

wonyoung listened to the ball as one of the yonsei players (one she's sure gaeul had hooked up with multiple times) dribbled, getting ready to serve. the outside hitter glanced at the score, sweat dripping down her neck.

29-30, in favor of yonsei.

she glanced back onto the ball, digging her feet into the ground as a loud smack permeated the crowded gym. wonyoung's heart was pumping, her nerves somehow more tired than her legs.

the ball went over her head, straight into haewon's arms. she could see the bruises starting to form on her teammate's forearms.

she felt sluggish, yet she still took a step back. her feet were firmly placed on the attack line, arms back and ready to jump.

gaeul, despite the soreness accumulating in her shoulders, set wonyoung a bit higher than usual. she knew that she could reach it, that she was willing to. wonyoung wasn't gonna go down without a fight, even if that meant ripping her muscles apart.

wonyoung slams her hand onto the ball, feeling it rip through yonsei's trembling hands.

it was perfect, it should've been, but that stupid libero, the one that always seemed to bait out wonyoung's most powerful spikes, reaches out for it. it barely touches her flat hand on the ground, sending the ball flying on the very edge of the net.

both sides watch as it threatens to fall. both sides pray for a break, for a second to gather their thoughts. they want - need - it to drop on the other side.

the ball tips, and everyone scrambles to get it up.

but they were too tired.

the whistle blows, and a heaviness enters wonyoung.

29-31.

she'd never tell the girls, but wonyoung had fun losing.

of course, she'd prefer to win. all the pain and hard work made it worth it, and she would've loved to hold the trophy up with her teammates. sure, it would've been made of cheap plastic, but at least it was shiny.

still, the lack of expectation: a place without her parents' watchful eyes, without yoo jimin hounding her for every mistake she made...

wonyoung had forgotten how fun volleyball could be.

(she also forgot how emotional it could get. an example: hanni currently crying in the change room as coach seulgi tried to console her.)

wonyoung stepped out of victor's hall, trying to ignore the stares that some of the suma body was giving her.

"unnie!"

wonyoung turned around, a slightly shorter girl, one with the same smile as her, approached. she carried a baby blue banner, her face plastered onto it haphazardly.

'go wonyoung-unnie!'

she smiled, waving at the older woman with puppy dog eyes that followed behind her.

"hyunseo." wonyoung hugged the younger girl, warmth spreading through her chest. "you came."

hyunseo nodded, waving her arms animatedly. "yeojin-unnie managed to convince our parents as long as she gives me a good word to snu's dean."

"of course they did." wonyoung smiled at yujin's sister. "hi, unnie."

"hey." yeojin patted her shoulder. it was weird seeing wonyoung look so grown up. "great game, wonyoung. i'm sorry that you lost."

surprisingly, wonyoung wasn't as upset as she thought she would have been. she was used to the guilt and incompetence brewing in her stomach, but whether it was the joy of her baby sister watching or the fact that she was still reeling from the goodbye with y/n, wonyoung didn't know.

"it's okay." the volleyball player shrugged, ruffling hyunseo's hair. hyunseo pushed her off. "we would've won if the circumstances were different."

"yeah, if yujin wasn't getting in random fights." yeojin couldn't believe her little sister. "where is that loser anyway?"

"with her girlfriend."

yeojin paused. yujin never mentioned a girlfriend before.

"she didn't tell you?" wonyoung tilted her head as she wiped her face. "gaeul-unnie-"

"kim gaeul?!" yeojin's eyes widened. her nearly failing, jock of a sister was dating the daughter of two of the most renowned lawyers in korea? "how the hell did yujin manage to pull her? she's got the brain of a mutt! yujin's gonna water down her brain cells!"

wonyoung didn't want to agree (but deep down she did). "yujin-unnie's gotten better, i think."

"whatever." yeojin shook her head. "where are they?"

she blushed, not wanting to think about the fact that they were most likely in some stall a mere ten meters away from them.

"just, um..." wonyoung cleared her throat. "give them a moment to themselves."

"oh."

hyunseo looked at her older sister curiously before wonyoung shook her head. hyunseo was bound to learn it in school if she hadn't already, wonyoung was not about to teach her.

"wonnie."

wonyoung spun around at the speed of light. her brain registered the voice before she did, but she didn't mind. she'd never pass up an opportunity to not speak to y/n.

"y/nnie?" wonyoung grinned, her heart fluttering. "hey."

she wondered throughout the game whether y/n was watching. after all, she had never missed one of wonyoung's games. granted, she was dating someone on the team, but wonyoung had the right to be a little delusional.

it didn't help much now, though. they both knew it was over (for now).

"you played amazing." y/n handed her an ice pack. "for your knee."

some things never changed.

"right." wonyoung grabbed it gently, awkwardly holding it as hyunseo pushed past her.

"y/n-unnie!"

hyunseo had met y/n a couple of times, wonyoung introducing her as her 'friend'. she wasn't stupid, she saw the heart eyes they gave each other, and the subtle hand holding.

"hi, hyunnie." y/n squeezed her lightly, pulling back. last year, hyunseo was only a centimeter taller than her. now, she was nearly wonyoung's height. "wow... you've gotten tall."

"i have." hyunseo smirked, glancing at her older sister. wonyoung rolled her eyes. "the doctors say i'll be taller than wonyoung-unnie one day."

"i can see it."

the actress glanced at wonyoung. even after everything, y/n couldn't help but notice how adorable the taller girl was.

"hyunseo, me and y/n are gonna talk, okay?" wonyoung looked at yeojin for help, the older ahn nodding and ushering hyunseo away. "i'll meet you guys out front after."

"okay."

hyunseo gave her one last hug before wonyoung moved her and y/n back into victor's hall.

y/n stared at the ice pack, the athlete leaning against the wall as it melted in her hands.

"you played well," she whispered, fiddling with her fingers.

"you say that every time." wonyoung could feel the water forming inside the bag, albeit slowly. "we lost, y'know?"

she didn't know what she was talking about anymore, but it certainly didn't feel like it was volleyball.

"i know." y/n smiled, and she felt as if this was the last time she would ever smile at wonyoung. "but that's not on you. you did your best."

her best didn't get her the girl back.

no matter how hard she tried, so many things were out of her power. she didn't have control of how people perceived her, of how people felt about her. she couldn't control her teammates' conditions, nor their injuries.

in some way or another, she was always gonna be imperfect.

"did i?"

she hoped that somewhere in the future, she could live with it.

"you did." y/n was always so sure of her. she never doubted wonyoung in the ways she doubted herself. "you did amazing. you're amazing."

the actress looked into her eyes, watching her as if she were an old video. a tape that she finally found once more after months of searching.

the air tasted bittersweet. it smelt stale, and sweat clung to both their backs like the lingering hope they both felt for the future, for them.

it was familiar, wonyoung's red sweater, y/n's loving smile.

maybe wonyoung needed a break from familiarity, too.

"y/nnie, why are you here?" her voice came out scratchy, her throat parched from both nervousness and exhaustion. "i thought you said no to us dating again."

the ice pack continued to melt, wonyoung's hand stinging so cold that it felt warm. the trophy case reflected her image, her eyes clear as they looked back at her.

her gaze moved back to y/n, tiredness tingling up her spine.

she was sure y/n could feel it too.

"i just wanted to cheer you on one more time." for the last time, they both knew. "give you ice for old times' sake."

wonyoung felt something different wash over her. it wasn't heartbreak, she had felt that before, nor was it love.

it felt like... gratitude. that wonyoung was grateful for y/n, for teaching her how love felt like. for hurting her, for loving her, for hating her.

it felt like the end.

"thank you for the ice, y/nnie." wonyoung smiled. "i'll see you around?"

"around sounds nice."

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@moontealemonpie @rikisgeef @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @blue4hour @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @awkwardtoafault @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @perfectsunlight @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @wlwgirlsworld @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @jihyostolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @bearseulgs @marimo-anura @wonyoluvr @serenitygrace24 @ddeonutz @noiacha @livelaughchoerry @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora

[wooahaes]

late night visitor

pairing: non-idol!jihoon x gn!reader (ft roommate!hyunsuk)

prompt: " 11 & 14 with park jihoon trsr please!” - anon [from these prompts]

word count: 0.7k~

warnings: no proofreading & intentional lowercase. rain/storm mentions.

daisy’s notes: idk why most of my ideas are rain-based rn. probably bc i want it to rain. its too hot here :(

the sound of someone trying to buzz into your apartment was enough to startle you late at night.

if you had thought about it, there was only one nuisance in your life that would wake you up this early by buzzing you over and over. but with several hours of sleep weighing down your decision-making process, you’d settled for grabbing your housemate’s baseball bat (given to him by one of his friends because hyunsuk just happens to be kind of short, he “needed the advantage” that hyunsuk had laughed off but kept in the hallway anyway) and making your way to check to see who was outside. the person had turned to knocking incessantly at this point, and you tightened your grip around the bat as you stepped down into the doorway and peeked through the spyglass.

only to see the idiot and love of your life standing outside, soaking wet. you groaned, unlatching the lock and pulling the door open to see him immediately brighten up.

as much as you loved him and found that look on his face endearing... you didn’t like being woken up.

“hoonie.”

“hi baby,” he smiled. “can i come in?”

“it’s three in the morning.”

he gasped in mock-offense, “so you’d turn your shivering boyfriend away? ah... where’s hyunsuk? he’d let me in.”

“sleeping, probably,” you said. after a moment, you stepped aside to let him step inside. after your door was shut and latched tight again, you stepped around him and up out of the entryway, folding your arms across your chest. “why didn’t you call?” 

“you didn’t pick up.”

... fuck, you needed to check your ringer again. maybe there was a little good in being spooked awake by your boyfriend if it meant you could turn your phone up for your morning alarms.

you sighed, telling him to wait there as you made your way to the bathroom. with towels in hand, you returned to jihoon and threw one over his face. “so why are you here?”

“got off work late,” he said, voice wobbly as you began to dry his hair for him. “someone called in sick. i kept trying to get junkyu but he wouldn’t answer at first.”

ah. that made sense, at least. junkyu worked the morning shifts at the convenience store jihoon worked at. something about it working better with his schedule. you wracked your brain to remember who usually worked the eight-hour shift from ten to six in the morning.

then it clicked. jihoon was supposed to get off at ten. he’d been working five extra hours because no one else would answer--and junkyu had likely been his last choice to come in hours early for work. you let out a sigh, pressure increasing slightly with your aggravation.

“what do i do with you?” you could hear him laugh at your words. “i mean it! you should have called your manager and let her handle it.”

“it’s okay,” he said, pulling the towel back from his face. “i get to see you this way.” 

although three in the morning wasn’t your ideal time for anyone to visit, let alone your boyfriend... you couldn’t argue too much with that. he smiled at you, and you rolled your eyes before giving him a once-over. his clothes were still wet...

“go take a shower,” you said, pulling away from him. “i don’t even know why i was drying your hair like this.”

he laughed. “because you love me,” he said, catching you by the arm. with ease, he pulled you back into his arms despite your protests. “that’s why you let me in.”

true on both accounts, you let out another groan. “you’re wet!”

he merely squished you tighter to his chest, not caring that he was soaking your shirt in the process. “mmm... looks like we should both take a shower now.”

with a roll of your eyes, you smacked his arm again. “i’m,” you started, “going back to bed. i’ll leave some clothes out for you. don’t take too long.”

(and sure enough, he was in your bed within the next half hour, clean and warm as he used you as his own personal teddy bear again. as much as he teased you... you liked it when he was softer with you, behind closed doors. even if he would pinch your side and laugh when you squirmed, kissing you one last time before settling in for sleep.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao​

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

dre is really really miss demonrry rn 😩😩 maybe bc it’s the holidays

DONT I’LL SOB NOT A DAY GOES BY I DONT THINK ABOUT HIM 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

someone sent in an ask a bit ago about angel getting some holiday lingerie and surprising him the day before she leaves to spend the holidays in heaven….the way he’d get lowkey sad and

“This isn’t fair.”

She presses a tender kiss to the center of his forehead, her fingers playing with the curls along the nape of his neck. “I know, baby. I know.”

“I didn’t think it would affect me this much.” He muses aloud, accent tight and grim. “I was so used to just spending the holidays with Dylan and my friends, I figured I’d be fine. But it’s not the same anymore— it’s not the same without you.”

His girlfriend releases a lengthy sigh, the same sorrow weighing heavy in her chest. “You know it’s mutual, H. But staying when I’ve been summoned…it’s risky, the same way missing important satanic events would be for you. They’d get suspicious, and it’d only be a matter of time before they came poking around.”

Harry nods numbly in understanding, but her words barely have an impact on his mood. “I know. I just…I hate it.”

Y/N’s palms slide to grip his face firmly, tilting his muted eyes up to meet her own. It pains her to see him in such a state; he only gets this bad during the holidays, and she has a good guess as to why.

After centuries of drunken parties and empty celebrations, he finally has a family again to give this time of year meaning, yet he’s forced to surrender it in order to ensure their safety. He’s forced to give up the opportunity to make timeless memories, just to keep the luxury of having any at all. Every year, she leaves him to go fulfill her duty to Heaven, and every year— with happy couples and reunited families bustling around him at every turn— he feels her absence tenfold, and it’s enough to render him inconsolable.

The connotations of her absence only make matters worse. It reminds him that at the end of the day, their love is forbidden, and that he will spend the rest of eternity in the shadows of her life, hidden away for the sake of survival. Never meeting her friends, never getting approval from her father, always looking over his shoulder before touching her in public, only allowed to freely express their relationship behind the same four walls and thick doors.

Harry knows Y/N dreads it just as much as he does— the sneaking, the preventative measures, the forfeiting of milestone moments, the constant feeling of impending doom. All it would take is one unassuming mistake— one wrong set of eyes at the right time, one condemning sentence whispered to the correct ear— and it would all be over. They lead their entire relationship with a noose wrapped around its neck, and he can’t help but think that one day, it’ll snap taut.

That possibility makes him sick to his stomach.

Y/N’s soft voice draws him out of his dark thoughts, her delicate touch searing away the tension in his jaw. She thumbs away the frown lines etching along the corners of his mouth, gazing down at him longingly. “A few weeks in exchange for a lifetime. It’s worth it, don’t you think?”

Harry cradles his face deeper into her grasp, his lashes fluttering at the static building between their skin. “Of course it is, dove. It’s just…rough for me. Lonely. I miss you.”

The faint tremble in his tone shreds at her heart like claws. “I’ll sneak out to see you, like I always do.”

Harry’s glossy eyes twinkle ever so slightly. “Promise?”

“I promise.” She confirms, leaning down to dust a kiss over each of his eyelids.

His lips twitch into a faint smile. “You just made a deal with a demon. Means you can’t break it.”

Her mouth spreads into a grin of its own. “I know.”

[orionsgirl7lovegoodravenclaw]

Ok hear me out: Sirius helps Lily give birth to Harry.

Firefighter/Sirius Black and his husband School Teacher/Remus Black hear that Lily Potter is in labor and all alone. Her husband, James Potter, who was Sirius's BEST friend and Co worker, had died months before from a work related incident, leaving her and her unborn baby boy alone.

Remus gets a text from his husband to rush to the hospital, because Lily has gone into labor and 'they just can't leave her to do it alone. Not James's family.' So he goes.

He and Lily had met a few times, and he really liked her. But she usually kept to herself, unlike her very outgoing husband. Especially once he died.

Getting to the hospital, Remus finds Sirius in full gear, begging and pleading with a nurse to be let in to see Lily. He tells her who he is to her, and that she deserves to have some sort of family there with her. Remus joins him and also talks to the nurse. She agrees to let him in, if Lily allows it. Going away, Sirius turns to his husband and sobs in his arms. (A bit awkward with the big fire jacket in the way) He cries that James will never see this for himself, that the baby will never know his amazing father. And Remus's heart breaks in half.

The nurse comes back, and tells them Sirius can go in, but he has to change into scrubs first. The air is breathable again. Remus takes his husband's jacket and pushes him to follow the nurse back. He waits in the waiting room for almost 10 hours, greeting other firemen from their station, accepting gifts and taking down messages for Lily for those who can't wait with him.

Sirius walks into the room and his heart pounds so hard into his chest, he's never been this anxious over a fire at work, but something about this moment...

Lily is sweating, in pain, and sitting there breathing between contractions. The moment their eyes meet, she bursts into new tears. He rushes over to her and takes her hands, hugging her ass best he can around the tubes connected to her. Ironically, she cries about the same things he just had in Remus's arms.

The RN who brought him in had informed him of Lily's complications and how she was adding to it with her distress and denial to push when it was time. So he spends the next hour confronting her, and trying to get her to relax and accept what was to come. To accept that this half or her and half of James was coming soon and needed a strong and loving mother. And that he would have Sirius and Remus too, that they would never leave her alone unless she told them to. She accepts and agrees.

The nurses help instruction Sirius how to help Lily through the pain as she continues to deny an epidural, but with better mental health and strength this time. Finally it's time, and she's pushing and he's standing beside her as she straddles the bed. He helps her breath and cheers her on, till the moment she's giving the last push, screaming and begging for it to be over. And out comes the baby.

The doctor asks Lily who will cut the cord and she looks at Sirius a little embarrassed. But before she can speak, Sirius kisses her on the head and whispers to her, "whatever you want sweetie." She nods and he reached back to cut the cord. One nurse takes the baby to weigh and clean up while, Sirius and the other nurse and midwife help Lily to lay back down on her back. They bring the baby back over and he's placed on her bear chest, crying and Squirming around naked.

Sirius and Lily both cry and he can't stop praising her and kissing the top of her head. He is amazing and in awe at this new little life in her arms. He breaks and hugs her again when she announces

This is Harry James Potter.

He's perfect and so little. Once Lily is better settled into her new room, Remus is called back to join them. He is shocked at his warm reception from Lily, as she thanks him for coming, being there all morning and afternoon, and handling the other firemen who stopped by. He reassures her it was no trouble at all, and he too would be there for her wherever she called.

She and Sirius both break into silent tears every so often. Especially when she places baby Harry in his arms to hold for the very first time and he cradles him like the most precious Jem in the whole world. He joins in their tears when she tells him that James had talked often about naming the couple, Harry's godfathers, but she had been scared and unsure. Now she knew it was the right choice and that they would have an official ceremony soon.

WolfStar helping raise Harry:

As the years go on, Remus and Lily become thick as thieves, the best of friends. And Sirius works hard to take care of them all. Lily has them over almost every night for dinner, and Sirius and Remus take turns taking her on dates while the other babysits. They take their vacations together, spend every holiday together, and even talk about buying a house together.

Harry is raised with two loving godfathers and a wonderful mother, and is often told many stories of his brave and funny father. Lily doesn't feel so lonely anymore with her new family around, and finds it more bearable to keep going and move on with time.

But Remus and Sirius get a new family too. They gain a best friend and sister. They gain a son and playmate. And when Harry's dream job is to be a firefighter when he's 4, Remus and Lily have to work hard to convince Sirius that over night stays in the station area not included in 'bring your kid to work day.'

And that's it. They go on. They live, and that is what brewed in my head all night when I was supposed to be asleep. 😅

[misstrashchan]

Mmmmm been having some thoughts on Ruby and Weiss rn

Ruby is set up to be foiled to Alyx, both in the opening, trying to retrace her footsteps in her story in the first couple of episodes, picking up Alyx's knife at the blacksmith's:

And in the latest episode, her lashing out being met with her intepreted as being cruel and selfish:

"Like Alyx, she wasn’t just a little petulant or inconsiderate. She was selfish, cruel. Like this whole word was simply make-believe and the rules didn’t apply to her."

"What about you? It's *all* about you!"

JWBY all seem to have different ideas of who and what Alyx was. She exists to teach a moral lesson, she's just a girl trying to survive and find her way back home, she was a mean little girl, she was the villain who rewrote the story.

But then we also have this line from the book said by Oscar in V8:

"She brushed off her bumps and bruises, for nothing hurt worse than the loneliness in her chest."

And... I'm reminded of Ruby's own loneliness, how distant she feels from her own teamates and friends right now, from the pressure of expectations to always be the one with a plan, with a smile and something positive to say to inspire everyone to Keep Moving Forward, put on her by both herself and the people around her. How Weiss is mourning her kingdom, Yang and Blake get to sort their feelings out, Jaune gets to have his breakdown, to the point his own over shadows Ruby's and her feelings are dismissed. And how the way she lashes out at them was both understandable and a long time coming, but also terribly cruel and messy. And that no one can be blamed for not seeing or reaching out to Ruby more when she refuses to let others know how much she's hurting and ask for their help. Ruby is still entitled to her own feelings. So is Jaune and WBY.

Which brings to mind a certain quote shown at the beginning of a certain someone's trailer:

"Everyone is entitled to their own sorrow, for the heart has no metrics or forms of measure. And all of it... irreplaceable"

Weiss's arc involves her looking outside of herself and learning to see and understand those around her, their own sorrows and burdens they carry with them. And of course, loneliness is a big reoccurring theme in Weiss's arc. Meeting her teammates and supporting them is what leads to her understanding their struggles, hence why Weiss develops from wanting to be the leader to instead dedicating herself to being the most supportive member in team RWBY, and thrives the most when she's fighting with them, but also emotionally supports them through their own struggles.

She's the one who notices something's off with Blake first in V2, and gets her to open up to the rest of her team so they can all work it out together:

"So, Blake Belladonna, what is wrong!?"

She supports Yang when she's confronting Raven and dealing with her abandonment issues

"It's okay if... you're not okay."

Her own sense of self and relationship to loneliness is a healthy one at present, and is something she can use to relate to others.

She understands other people’s loneliness, that Blake in V5 needed space and in time she’d come back, and Weiss would be ready to be there for her when she did. And she also understands Yang’s loneliness in the same volume and that she needed someone there to support her.

“But you’re right. I don’t know loneliness like you do. I have my own version. And, I bet Blake has her own version too.” 

"When she's ready, I'll be there for her. And I know we're not as close, but... I'm here for you too."

Weiss understands that no one's version of loneliness is the same, and every individual needs something different to have their feelings respected and understood. And now in V9 Weiss has to reckon and come to understand Ruby's own version of loneliness after seeing Ruby snap and how much everything has been weighing down on her, and what she needs from her as a friend and teammate.

All the way back in V1, Weiss grew to accept Ruby as leader and promised to support her:

"Ruby... I think you have what it takes to be a good leader. Just know, that I am going to be the best teammate you will ever have."

And I believe she'll try to hold true to that as best she can for Ruby going forward.

[nebulous-library]

wine & dine

Series: Bungo Stray Dogs Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader Word count: 3.2k Genre/ContentTags: Not Safe For Worms - chuuya is too sloshed to get it up, he has a broken lizard (a reptile dysfunction), this is mostly ur standard stuff, making out, hand stuff, mouth stuff, cunnilingus, lots of cunnilingus, if that was not explicitly clear, chuuya is kinda crabby but what else is new, alcohol consumption, no y/n usage

[Part 2 - the bonus chapter] [Read on AO3]

**MINORS DNI || 18+ ONLY**

Summary: When your plans for Chuuya’s birthday go awry, he keeps himself busy with a nice bottle of wine. However, when you arrive later that evening, you find that the wine has caused certain complications for Chuuya. No matter — he’s going to have a birthday feast one way or another.

A/N: Taking a leap and posting this without having it beta read (my beta reader has sm on her plate rn and I want her to prioritize herself first and foremost, everyone plz send her lots and lots of love), so please excuse any mistakes you may find. Also really trying to exercise just like, writing for my own body type first and foremost. So this one goes out specifically to the girlies who are taller and thiccer than Chuuya Nakahara.

Anyway, bone apple teeth, and happy birthday to my sweet widdle chuu chuu train.

7:12 p.m. Boss has me running a couple errands. 

7:13 p.m. I’ll be a little later than we planned. 9 at the latest. We still good for tonight?

Chuuya exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. How convenient that the Boss had you working late on the same day he’d told Chuuya to call it an early day – his birthday. 

“‘Oh, you work so hard, Chuuya.’ he says, ‘You should enjoy your birthday, Chuuya,’ he says,” Chuuya grumbles to himself from the confines of his quarters, downing his second glass of wine this evening. “‘Take this bottle from my cellar, Chuuya, you deserve it,’ he says.” Chuuya knocks back the last sip, somewhat aggressively setting it down on the table. 

7:15 p.m. Yep. See you then

He sends you a quick reply and sets his phone on the table as well. 

You both thought you’d been so careful about keeping your relationship a secret. Not that it needed to be one, but still, it was nice to have something be just yours for a little while. Chuuya had been suspicious that some of the others in the Port Mafia knew, or at the very least that Mori knew. And if he didn’t know it for sure before, then he damn sure knew it now. 

The Boss had done this deliberately to fuck with him. 

“And on my fucking birthday,” he grouched, folding his arms across his chest. 

His phone buzzed, rattling the table. 

7:18 p.m. Sorry about this. Love youuuu

7:19 p.m. <333

Chuuya sighed, his demeanor softening. He knew it wasn’t your fault, after all. He was just really looking forward to spending some quality time together. And you would, it’d just be later than he’d expected. So much for dinner, he thought.

At least if Mori was gonna mess with the two of you, he was getting free booze from the Boss’s collection out of it. And admittedly, it was indeed good booze.

Pouring himself a third glass, Chuuya braced himself for all the nothing that the next two hours had in store for him. 

By the time you got back, it was pitch black outside. You were exhausted, but the tasks assigned to you were complete and your evening was finally, finally coming to a close.

It was almost 10 o’clock now, and Chuuya had been texting you for the last hour asking if you were almost back yet. You could tell from his tone that he’d gone ahead and started drinking without you. You weighed the options of whether or not to go back to your room and have a quick shower, or just head straight for Chuuya. If I shower now, I still have to get ready, and that’ll take at least – 

Your thoughts were cut off by the ping of your cell phone. 

Another text from Chuuya.

9:57 p.m. get bavk faster, I miss yuo

You snorted, pocketing your device and deciding on a course of action. He was cute when he was this hammered. You shouldn’t keep him waiting long.

Upon arrival at his door, you paused to smooth out the dress you’d taken the extra five minutes to stop and put on for him, took a deep breath, and knocked on his door in your secret code. He opened it within seconds. 

You thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head, the way he was ogling you. You walked in slowly, letting him get a nice eyeful of the way your gown hugged every curve. He lingered on your lower half, your leg exposed by a dangerously high slit. God, he wanted you. He’d been sitting around all night wanting you so badly. 

“My eyes are up here, Chuuya,” you teased, and he followed the sound of your voice the rest of the way up. He’d never admit it sober, but damn, he loved you towering over him in heels.

“A-about time you got here,” he muttered, looking away as all the thoughts of you he’d been sitting with flooded back into his brain at once. Was his face flushed or was that just the alcohol talking?

You chuckled, handing him the bottle of his favorite wine that you’d been saving for tonight. From the looks of it, though, he didn’t need to be drinking anymore. He set it on the table by the empty bottle from Mori. 

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you said playfully, cupping his jaw as you leaned down to kiss him. “Sorry it took so long to get here.” 

Chuuya’s hands roam up your sides, creasing the satiny material draped over your hips and waist as you kiss him. He dives in for a second. And a third. And a fourth. His kisses are quick, but passionate and oh, so needy.

“Gonna make it up to me?” 

He walks backward toward the velvet armchair he’d been waiting in all evening, pulling you with him. You hum in response, straddling him as he sits down. Chuuya pulls the fabric of your dress to the side and snakes his hands to your thighs. You’re always so apprehensive to put your weight on him, and it drives him crazy. He wouldn’t tell you to sit down if he didn’t mean it. He scrunches his eyebrows as he sinks his fingers into their perfect plushness, forcefully pulling you down onto his lap. 

Much better, he thinks, diving back in to catch your lips on another heated kiss while he fondles you. He slipped a finger under the lacey garter that hid beneath your gown and gave it a snap, causing you to yelp into his mouth, leaning further into him. He sank his teeth into your bottom lip, tugging down as he pulled away. You looked down at him through half-lidded eyes and he smirked.

Chuuya’s hands found their way to your hips. He shifted under you, pressing one leg against your cunt as he pulled you down, looking you square in the eye while guiding your motions.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, knocking his hat off in the process and carding your fingers through his soft hair. His face was trapped, smothered in your bosom, but he couldn’t have been happier. You’d opted to forego your bra, he noticed, as your nipples pebbled through the silky material. Helping himself, Chuuya began mouthing over the fabric, soaking it through with his saliva as his tongue toyed with your nipple. 

You squealed when his hands found purchase on that sensitive spot on the back of your leg, stroking gently as he bit down on your sensitive bud and applied additional pressure between your legs. It was all too much. You were certain you were soaked through your panties, as well as the front of his pants. 

You wanted him. You wanted to feel him inside you so badly it hurt. 

“Chuuya…,” you breathed, begging him to give you more. But that was when you noticed something was amiss.

Usually by this point, you’d feel his cock twitching in his pants, aching to get free. 

You sat forward and rolled your hips against him, just to be sure. 

Chuuya groaned, but it was not arousal that was carried in his voice — it was frustration.

Pulling back, you looked at him once again. He looked thoroughly disheveled.

“Chuuya?” Your tone shifted, and you looked at him with concern in your eyes. Hesitantly, he met your gaze, and knew that you could tell. His eyes darted away, embarrassed, and fixated on the empty wine bottle.

You followed his gaze, confirming your suspicion. Maybe he shouldn’t have been left to his own devices for so long that evening. 

You raked your fingers through his tresses comfortingly, and cupped his jaw in both hands. 

“Is everything alright, honey?” you asked, planting a kiss in the center of his forehead. 

“‘m fine,” he muttered. He stared down, looking at where you sat atop his lap, at the damp patch you’d left on his thigh. Fuck, that was hot, he thought. Normally by this point he’d be insisting there was no time to bother discarding clothes, and would be coating his cock in your slick, ready to plunge in and watch you come undone more and more with every vicious thrust.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want—”

“I want to.” His eyes were immediately back looking into yours. He really, really wanted to. And the intensity of his stare told you exactly that. “Just need to keep trying.” 

Chuuya undid his pants, pulling the waistband down to expose his half-erect cock. He gave himself a few weak test strokes, but to no avail. It would work. It had to. While he kept pumping, he wove his other hand through the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss, in hopes that gumption and tenacity alone would get the blood flowing to his dick the way he wanted. 

Uncertain as you were, you kissed him just as fervidly as you had been, and continued grinding down on his thigh, trying to put on a good show for him. You could tell he kept peeking out the corner of his eye to see if there was any progress. Knowing full well that a watched pot would never boil, you attempted to provide him with a distraction in the form of your hands wandering along his torso.

You unbuttoned his shirt halfway, rubbing his chest and moaning into his mouth the way you knew he liked. And oh, it would have been bliss if he were able to properly enjoy it. 

You could tell his faith was waning, and he was getting increasingly frustrated by the moment. In a last-ditch effort, you joined your fingers with his, wrapping around his cock to see if it would be more responsive to your touch.

No dice.

He let out a frustrated wail, screwing his eyes shut and throwing his head back against the red velvet. 

“Chuuya…”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” he bit back, muttering curses at the empty bottle of wine staring back at him on the table. 

You smiled softly at him, leaning in to pepper his face with kisses as you tucked his dick back into his trousers. You shifted your weight forward, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder. You raked your fingers through his auburn locks, twirling the ends around your fingers. He pouted, refusing to look you in the eye.

“It happens to everyone,” you reassured, trying to sound as non-patronizing as you could. Still, he scowled.

He knew you were right, and he knew it was his own damn fault for going overboard with the alcohol before you’d even gotten there, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. He didn’t understand how he could be this horny and still not be hard enough. All he wanted for his birthday was to feel your walls spasming around him, to make you writhe and squirm at his touch, to watch you struggle to keep your volume down and inevitably fail.

“I’m happy just spending time with you, Chuu–“

“Shut up,” he growled. He gripped your hips firmly, pulling you flush against himself.

“What are you – !” You let out a muffled sound of surprise as he cut you off with a heated and sloppy kiss. And before you could fully comprehend what he was doing, he had switched your positions and you now sat in the antique armchair, and Chuuya’s petite frame was leaning over you, brushing your hair forward over your shoulder, never breaking your kiss. 

His gloved fingers trailed up to your jaw, gently at first until he pinched your chin between his thumb and index finger, holding you firmly as his lips worked against yours. You could taste the wine on his lips, sure, but he was intoxicating enough on his own. 

He swallowed down every sweet whine and whimper you offered, letting you attempt to roll your hips against him, despite his iron grip on your hip. He smirked. If nothing else, seeing you come undone was all the birthday present he needed. He pushed your thigh up over the chair’s arm, bringing you forward in the seat just enough. 

When he pulled away from your kiss, you looked back at him through hazy, lust-filled eyes. You looked perfect like this, with your cheeks flushed and your mouth agape. He was hypnotized watching the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to catch your breath.

He leaned in, kissing your forehead before crouching down between your legs. 

“Chuuya, what are you doing?” you asked as he bit the hem of his glove, peeling it off with his teeth.

“Havin’ dessert.”

“What—”

“It’s my birthday and I’m gonna make you cum, dammit!” he snarled, hitching your other leg over his shoulder, his nose barely brushing against your clothed slit. You shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath on you. 

Chuuya discarded his other glove and pulled your underwear to the side. “Can’t fill you up like I wanna, but I can still show you who this pussy belongs to,” he huffed as he thumbed over your slickened folds. “You good with that?” he looked up at you, his thumb positioned just near your clit enough to make you crazy with anticipation, asking permission before he continued.

You nodded.

The pad of his thumb swiped over your your clit, rolling it in slow, smooth circles, his eyes trained on your face with every motion. This was what he wanted more than anything — watching you fall apart, melting into his touch like you had been before. 

He dragged his thumb down through your folds and spread you open, admiring the way your needy hole pleaded for him. He inched closer and closer, teasing your entrance until he could tell from your flushed face that you needed him now. 

And, well, who was he to keep you waiting?

His index and middle fingers slid into you with ease, and the lewd sounds coming from you were divine. Fuck, you were so wet for him. Each scissoring motion, each pull and push of his fingers into your cunt had you sighing as he finally gave you a taste of the relief you craved.

He massaged your walls with expert strokes — he truly knew your body inside and out. But he wanted to build this up as much as he could. Chuuya slowly curled his fingers forward, rubbing that soft bundle of nerves inside you that made you cant your hips for him. Something about the look in his eyes told you he was nowhere near picking up the pace. This was just the beginning.

As he worked your tender walls, Chuuya plastered a countless number of kisses along your thigh that was hiked over his shoulder. Some were soft and lingered, others were quick as if eager to cover each inch of you with his love. Then, there were the bites. You couldn’t help squirming when he sank his teeth into you, suckling bruises onto your skin. But no matter how much you mewled or bucked your hips, he held you steady. 

He withdrew his fingers and marveled at the gossamer threads connecting them before plunging them into his mouth up to his knuckle, moaning at your sweet taste. He dipped his fingers into you once again, this time working quicker whilst continuing to nibble on your thigh, until he reached your garter, which he took between his teeth and tugged, letting it snap against your skin as he removed his fingers. You cried out, arching your back, and whining at the sudden emptiness.

More, he needed more. And clearly, so did you.

Chuuya gave no warning before diving in, lapping at your pussy as if you were his oasis in the desert. Each slurp made you squeal, and your legs twitched, threatening to snap shut on him like a bear trap. He splayed his palm across your thigh, hiking it higher up the armrest toward your chest and giving himself better access to plunge his tongue deeper into you.

You rolled your hips against him the best that you could, trying desperately to ride his face. And he did allow it for a few minutes, his nose nudging against your clit just right. He loved letting you use him like this, loved seeing you fall to pieces because of him, loved the feeling of your pussy clenching for him, and him alone. 

As you approached your climax, Chuuya pushed both your legs up over the arms of the chair, robbing you of your leverage, leaving you completely at his mercy as he wrapped his lips around your clit. He truly pulled out all the stops, alternating between tactful flicks of his tongue, prolonged licks, and slurps while vigorously fingering you until you couldn’t stand it anymore. 

You covered your mouth with your forearm, biting down as your body quaked with pleasure and Chuuya worked straight through it. He didn’t let up for even a second until your walls stopped spasming around his fingers. 

He released your clit with an obscene pop, and glowered at you.

“What’d ya hold back for?” Chuuya fussed.

You could only answer in heavy breaths and word fragments.

He exhaled. “No matter. ‘m far from done anyway. You’re not allowed to cover your mouth though!” he said pointedly. 

You nodded in response, and he resumed his feast. 

Everything was a blur after that. Chuuya continued helping himself to your cunt for hours, rarely coming up for air and pushing you to the brink of what you could withstand. You were sore and so sensitive, losing track of how many orgasms your body had been put through somewhere after the fourth or fifth time. When he finally pulled away, the clock read 12:37. 

You looked down at Chuuya, on his knees, panting. His hair stuck to his forehead and face was drenched in the results of his hard work, and as exhausted as he was, he licked his lips happily. As your body relaxed, you lowered your legs, groaning at the stiffness in your hips from sitting in that position so long. With your foot on the ground, Chuuya wrapped an arm around your calf and rested his cheek on your thigh as he surveyed the aftermath. You both looked a mess, but Chuuya would argue that you were a masterpiece of a feast well-enjoyed. 

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, until the post-orgasm fog cleared out of your brains. Chuuya was first to stand, nearly toppling over from the way his knees were asleep. It was ironic, seeing someone with control over gravity itself stumbling about. You cracked a smile as he found his bearings and helped pull you up as well. 

He held you close with his hand splayed between your shoulder blades, his fingers toying with your zipper. 

“...probably safer if you stay over?” he suggested, flicking the tab between his fingers.

You nodded, and he began slowly tugging it downwards. 

“Chuuya,” you halted him, putting your hand on his shoulder. 

He froze immediately, looking at you with concern that he’d made a wrong move. 

You glanced down, and his eyes followed, not sure what you were pointing out until you pressed against him and he groaned. 

Two hours later, he was finally hard. 

“...think you got one more round in ya?”

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Safe n Sound

Pairing: Nate x ex-girlfriend!reader; Fezco (Euphoria) x Reader

Summary: After a big fight with her boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, the reader goes to the familiar corner store in need of support and help from her best friend.

Song: "Cherry" by Harry Styles

Warnings: Swearing, heavy talk of abuse, this is your trigger warning, Nate Jacobs.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/n: I had a love/hate relationship writing this because it's so similar to what actually happened with me and my current boyfriend. Literally dumped my abusive ex and ran to Justin's house crying. Stan Justin for clear skin.

"I'm done, Nate! I can't fucking do this anymore!" I scream, clutching my body in my trembling arms. The bruises that litter my upper arms grow more pigmented by the minute, tears streaming down my heated cheeks. Nate looks at me, his head tilted in a calculated way as he laughs.

"Fuck you." He spits, the last straw to me as I pick up my things from the bed, gathering them into my book bag. I cry silently as Nate watches me, his arms crossed over his chest as he huffs. "Come on, Y/n." He reaches forward, my body flinching away from him as he scoffs. "What? You're fucking afraid of me now? You're just gonna fucking run away like you always do? Where you gonna go?" He asks, grabbing the bag out of my hands as I wince, backing up until my back hits the wall. He stalks up to me, his eyes squinted as he laughs bitterly. "You gonna run to the fucking drug dealer? Fezco?" He asks, throwing my bag at my chest as I cry, my eyes shutting as I clutch the bag to my chest. "You're fucking pathetic." He spits, his voice raising as it finally clicks in his head that there's no coming back from this one. "Don't forget all the shit I know about you, Y/n!" He warns, my feet finally moving from their place in the floor and out of his room. My mind wanders as I think of all the things that I've told him, confided in him about. The pictures on his phone of me. He yells my name as I make my way quickly down the stairs, my eyes catching his dads gaze from the kitchen. He frowns at my disheveled sight, his whole body turning on the chair as he folds his hands in his lap.

"You're a nice girl." He says, his shoulders shrugging in a sad sigh. "Get outta here, alright? Stay safe." He adds, my bottom lip wobbling as I turn around, glancing once more at Nate who stands at the top of the stairs. He sends me one last bitter smile before I twist the doorknob, letting myself out of the suffocating house.

As I walk down the street, my legs wobble under me as I pull my t-shirt sleeves down more. The bruises form perfect hand prints on my skin, my chest aching as I pull out my phone.

To Fezzy: Where are you rn?

I take a deep breath in, trying to fill my lungs with as much air as I possibly can. The suffocating question of what Nate would do next weighs heavily on me. He couldn't send those pictures on his phone to anyone without it being illegal right? That would be administration of child pornography? The thought makes me nauseous, the fact that I even have to worry about something like this is actually ridiculous. It just proves the fact that I should've left a long time ago.

From Fezzy: the shop. wassup?

Ignoring the message, I shove my phone back into my sweatpants pocket, listening to the sound of cars driving my me. I knew that Fez would be mad, probably homicidal, when I tell him about Nate. About the things that Nate said, what he did, what he threatened. Fez was always protective over me, always watching my back for me. I felt stupid that I was this predictable though. Nate always knew that I would run to Fez the minute that things got rough when it came to anything. He's always been my best friend, the person I felt safest with. Maybe that meant more than I thought it did.

Fez always warned me that, when Nate and I were finally over, that it would be over something big. That it would be the biggest blow out and that he would be there the minute it happened. He knew that Nate and I wouldn't last. He always said that I was too nice, too gentle for Nate. Now it made sense.

As I step up to the store, my hands shake at my sides as I blow out an anxious breath. This wasn't going to be pretty, I knew that it wasn't. I knew from the moment that I made the decision to come here that this would end in me trying to calm him down. Because god forbid anyone looked at me in the wrong way, let alone leave bruises on my skin.

The door opens with a ding, my backpack being tossed onto the ground as I see Faye propped up on the ice cream cooler. Thank god she's here. Looking around the counter, I don't see Fez, no Ash either.

"He's in the back. I can grab him if you want." Faye offers, a small smile on her pudgy lips as I nod. "You look like fucking shit, man. Are you okay?" I give her a half-assed nod, my hands reaching up to wipe the tears off of my cheeks. She gives me an unconvinced smile before making her way off of the cooler and into the back room. I lean against the counter, letting out a strained breath as the door opens with a quiet squeak.

"Hey ma, what's up?" Fez asks, a smile in his tone as I look up, my tough exterior crumbling at the sight of his eyes on me. His face immediately drops, his chest rising and falling in violent breaths. "What did that son of a bitch do?" He asks, stepping up to me quickly to look over my frame. His eyes connect with my arms, my head falling back as I whisper out a whimper.

"I broke up with him. It's done." I shake my head, trying to get his eyes off of the bruises, but he just moves my sleeves up to examine them further. I watch as his jaw clenches in frustration, his chest rising in a breath. "He just- he got angry and then we got in a fight. He tried to keep me from leaving and grabbed my arms." I explain, his head bobbing in a silent nod. I'm surprised he hasn't yelled yet. "I think he threatened to, like, spread naked pictures of me but he was really vague." I cover my face with my hands, feeling Fez tug me to his strong chest. He rests a hand on the back of my head gently, cradling me to him as I sob.

"Gonna kill 'im." He mutters, his lips pressing against my temple as I clutch his shirt. "Ain't nobody fuck with you like that and get away with it, you got that?" He asks, my head nodding slowly as I step closer to him, just needing to be in his arms. A few moments go by, his arms still tightly wrapped around my trembling frame. Occasionally he presses a small kiss to the top of my head, the action warming me to my core. "I'm proud'a you. For leavin'." He whispers, a small smile on my lips as I process his words. I needed to hear that. "So fucking strong." I pull back to look at him with a soft smile, tears still streaming down my cheeks as his anger breaks. "Don't gotta be afraid no more. I'm not leaving your side." He whispers, his hand gently reaching up to cup my cheek. I gaze up at him, my eyebrows pulled together as I fight the urge to cry for a completely different reason. He's always made me feel so safe.

"I'm okay with that." I reply, my eyes fluttering shut in relief as he lets out a small relieved laugh.

"You better fucking be." He chuckles, his cheek pressed against my forehead as he pulls me back into his arms, the fluorescent lights above us buzzing as I let myself breathe for the first time today.

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

Taglist: @jamespotterswifey @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex--awesome--22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @letmebeyoureuphoria @rafecameronswhore @4lyssasworld @write-from-the-heart @ariianelle @vampviolets

Euphoria Taglist: @usernamelol @ssprayberrythings

[loversdelusions]

How would yandere Deku react to the reader breaking down because of stress from being in a contest or a competition, not being able to handle all the stress of having people have these high expectations on her and expecting her to be perfect but reader is just so sick of it all she breaks down and thinks she messed everything up no matter what she does? I kinda feel like this rn… I just lost a competition I’d worked so hard for and I really need some comfort I hope you don’t mind

Izuku Midoriya: ♥ Midas ♥

Help me raise money to be a sentient cupcake:

He would cry. Watching you hurt hurts him too. It's almost unbearable, cementing in his mind just how in need of protection from the world you are. He doesn't care any longer about staying far, about watching and not alerting you. You may be surprised how quickly he'd shown up by your side.

"Darling," Turning suddenly only met you with his chest, arms wrapping around you, hands in your hair. His warmth was only meant for you, and nothing solidified this more than just how perfectly you fit in his arms.

"Izuku..." Your voice broke, even in your surprise. Should you have wiped your tears? Been fine? But this was Midoriya, he was the only person who could see your tears without condescension. Comfort you without pity, cry with you yet let you in his heart without any bitter-sweet words.

"I just can't..." The small hiccup broke his heart. "I can't do this anymore."

"I..." Maybe it was the moment or all he has done that suffocated you. Maybe it was standards that were weighing on your back like the skys' on Atlas, your words left you with all the truth you could muster. "I am just wasted potential."

His hand shakes but he holds you firm. He slides down to the floor with you and cradles you as if you were porcelain. He could only bite his lip, because how was he supposed to listen to you thinking everything your fingers brush breaks when he'd fight to kiss your knuckles in his appreciation. You'd never really understand just how god-like you were to him, like someone who walks on air, whose smile brightens his world and fills his heart more than anything in his life. It was just words to you.

He knew he had to say something because he didn't want to be the same as the people who watched him struggle from afar when he was in middle school. He didn't want to be a bystander in your life, because you were the light of his.

"I don't know what to do," He pushed you closer to him, "It doesn't matter what I do... It never...It's never enough,"

He almost broke, his first words clearer than what followed, he mumbles just how much he adores you, just how much his heart burns for you, anything of yours; A smile, a chuckle or a touch. He loves you and through sobs, through cries, perhaps you could only catch a few words. He was glad you didn't comprehend his words, even if he yearned to tell you everything.

Though a bit disappointed, he held you while you cried yourself to sleep. It would be okay. No matter how tempted he was to save you right now, to take you home and coddle you, to worship you just like you deserve, he refused the temptation. He took you to his home, and let you sleep in his bed.

He didn't trust himself with you. But he didn't want your life with him to start with your sadness. He wanted to make you feel better, he was your hero after all.

But he wasn't perfect. He laid down next to you, hugged you close and shivered when you snuggled into his chest. His tears were of overwhelming happiness. He couldn't believe it. You were in his arms...He knew he could save you, he would do anything just to see that perfectly serene look on your face. Even if your eyes were puffy from tears. You overwhelmed him with your presence, he resisted the urge to freak the fuck out.

He had to wait though; Because you come first. One day he'll be there to save you from your impossible standards. One day you'll live a life of happiness and see yourself like he does. His own Midas, with your touch of gold.

_______________________________________________________

In all events, Anon, I feel you. I also have struggled with failure after being considered 'gifted' with one thing or another. It hurts like nothing else to feel like everything you could do is out of reach. Expectations are too high and even when you get close it's never good enough, the bar keeps rising out of reach. I can't say it gets better, but I can say your reality is your own. Life waits for no one but it's also yours. You don't 'waste' time if you take a break. If You're burnout, it's time to rest.

Time is all we have now. Don't regret your past but always put yourself first, fuck people and their fucking expectations.

[mrs-valentine]

Hi there! I hope you’re doing well. Do you think you could write something for Jill with the prompt: “how mad would you be if i kissed you?”

WHY IS THIS SO CUTE OMG-

Ima have so much fun rn

Blue is Jill

You were upset but you couldn't be mad. Jill has been working on a case for weeks. You didn't wanna bother her but at the same time, you just wanted her to, at least cuddle with you even if it was for a minute. Weighing your options out was difficult, one wrong move and she could possibly get angry with you. But at this point you didn't really care. So you decided to tease her, okay maybe a bad idea but you just couldn't help it.

-Your Pov

"Hey, Jill?" I sang, Jill sighed. "Yes, hun?" "Can I sit with you?" "Sure" She patted her lap. I smirked and sat there with her. I nuzzled her neck. I stayed there for a bit contemplating what to say next. I knew she loved my kisses and couldn't resist them. My smirk grew wider by the second. "Jill?" "Yes?" She hummed. I giggled "How mad would you be if I kissed you?" She paused. I was fighting the urge to laugh. "You're lucky you're cute" She said as she put down the pencil. Right at that moment I took her face into my hands and kissed her.

The kiss felt amazing, her lips were smooth and soft and I felt her relax as she wrapped her arms around my waist. I wish the kiss could last forever. I took my face away and Jill had the widest smile. I could tell she was glad.

"So, wanna cuddle? You can kiss me more." I teased. She rolled her eyes as she picked me up. She took me to our bed and placed me down, she hopped in the spot next to me and layed down signaling to me to lay on top of her. I do as she says and put my head on her chest and wrap my arms around her back.

-3rd person pov

"I love you hun" Jill smiled looking down at you giving you light forhead kisses. "I love you too" You yawned. Then you two fell asleep in each other's arms

I LOVED THISSS!!! YOUR REQUEST WAS AMAZING!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT 😁😁

Requests are open!!

[paperpeacock]

okay so omg, you’re like my fav writer rn and i trust you with this idea!! imagine allura’s best friend or just someone who kinda swore to protect her, being there with coran when allura dies, and she kind of starts to build a relationship with lance since theyre both mourning the loss of someone they loved, and then they end up falling for each other, but reader is self conscious of the fact that she’s basically the closest thing lance get to allura and during argument about this he accidentally calls her allura? maybe hurt/comfort :,D

Hi, I am so sorry that this took me forever, thank you for your patience. I love your ideas, this was so amazing to write! thank you for putting in such a good request, an opportunity to practice less flowery scenarios. As always I hope you have an awesome day, thank you! ♡

Lance x Reader - Wounds

Left with pale, glittering ashes pouring from your palms, Allura faded past, leaving but only blurry lavender in her wake. Your once beating heart paused forever, drowned by an all-consuming numbness. This plain, this place, it couldn't be real, could it? This was just a haunting dream, plaguing your sleep but surely, you’d awaken soon. You said goodbye, but yet it didn't feel like the words came out your mouth. You weren't here, this wasn't happening. A hand weighed on your shoulder, grasping tightly, pulling you back. Coran faced you, eyes streaming with tears. Very real tears. 

The weeks following her passing were but a blur. A haze of hurt and loss, pure and utter despair. Many nights spent soaked in tears, curling in towards the giant hole that lay inside you, a vital piece removed. Allura’s death devastated the whole team, cutting deeper than any blade they had faced. But even so, a wound must heal and after months passed by, season after season, they pushed forward. Allura would want them to. She would want you to. But all her dreams, all her plans, her smile. She wouldn't be there! You clutched the fabric of your shirt, trying to pull your heart out. Hot tears Buring down your face, body folded in misery. In the dark of your room lay someone crying, their breaths quick and choked, their face sticky in tears and snot. Her brave warrior, now weeping. 

Light cut through the dusk, piercing through the stygian of your room. Illuminating your wide, glossy eyes, crimson face and messy hair. The blue paladin gazed to you, mouth crinkling into a trembling frown. It seems you were not the only one. 

Your arms hung from a railing; face pointed towards the window before you. By now the Garrison had become familiar. You made somewhat of an effort to talk to people, being taught the ways of earth. So many things you would’ve loved for Allura to see. As her first knight you often brought her flowers from meadows, she’d marvel at each one, expressing how much she’d want to be a knight like yourself. The memory was bittersweet, just one of the many reminders your mind plagued you with. 

“Morning” A voice spoke. Stood behind you was Lance, clad in his tangerine uniform with two coffee mugs. 

He stood beside you and peered at the barren land outside. “Got any jobs to do today?” he asked, gaze still facing the window. You focused on the warm mug in your hands, your face reflecting back from the mahogany drink. 

“Just training with a pilot...James Griffon, I think it was” You replied quietly, blowing at the steam. 

“Boo, he’s the worst” His face scrunched into a displeased look, causing you to laugh. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, total jerk” He shook his head, smiling.  

Despite becoming quite comfortable on earth, your duties often called to Altea. Your hair was threaded by the winds, eyes peering up towards the statue of your princess. The day was bright, birds humming in spring, blossoms fluttering all around. After many seasons flew by you felt yourself start to heal, clutching your chest whilst gazing in pure admiration. She was a warrior, a leader, being her guard was most honorable, but being her closet Ally was even more so. 

“You seem in a good mood today” Lance padded towards you; hands dipped in his pockets. 

“I can’t be sad on such a nice day” You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. A flurry of petals blew past, dancing around your warm face. Lance felt his heart swell. A feeling he had ripped away from him. It was surprising, he tried to push such emotions down but being near you felt like this place, now, decorated in spring and sun. You were warm. And he had been cold for so long time. 

Ink was poured into the sky, devouring every last slither of light until all that lay was an open darkness. A void filled by countless glittering stars, small wishes far, far away. You had become familiar with earths only moon, her pearly face watching over you. Being trained to withstand late operations, your inner clock had become accustomed to the night, but now you hadn't a reason to stay awake. Instead of patrolling you sat posed outside, admiring the twilight like a painting.  

“Thats the little dipper over their” His finger pointed towards a cluster of stars.  

“You humans are so strange, giving names to the stars” You laughed, wrapping yourself further into the blanket. 

“You think so?” He cocked his head, lending you a gentle smile.  

“It's kind of cute...” you murmured, raising your head towards the moon. 

It had been two years since her passing, since then much has changed. As the paladins ventured of to their own endeavors you chose to stick by Lance, visiting his farm from time to time and helping with tours of Altea. You had grown to be good friends, good friends when close to each other felt their hearts race and cheeks warm, good friends that would often make flirty comments (Mainly Lance), good friends that shared a passionate kiss. 

“Y/N...” 

“Yes?” 

“I love you.” 

He pressed his lips against your own, pressing his palm atop your hand. You pushed towards him, heart drumming beneath your chest. He had fallen for the Princess’s guard, heart once again swept up by someone so different. 

Since that moonlit night, you and lance were official. Sharing even more kisses and hugs. You were delighted, you adored him and all he was. Someone so bright lighting up your once dim world. But despite this, despite this burning passion. His eyes. They gazed into yours with immense fondness, just as they gazed into hers. You remember sitting in Allura's room, braiding her mane of lavender, listening to all her stories and woes. 

“Y/N, I have something to tell you” She spun round, delicate hand placed upon your own. Her cheeks were painted crimson, eyes shimmering like ocean waves. “Lance and I...” 

“I know”  

She looked up in surprise, faced with your warm smile.  

Since then, she would always gush to you about everything he said, despite not having the same reaction in front of him. 

“Oh Y/N, he said my eyes looked like the stars” 

“Lance told me my hair was very soft” 

“He said he’s so lucky to be my boyfriend” 

You were so happy for her, seeing the once straight and stressed princess now turned to a little girl blushing and giggling over the smallest things. You thought about this whilst sitting in your bed alone, heart swelled with fluttery love only to sink as your best friend wasn't there to hear it. But it didn't matter anyway, she probably had heard all of these things before. He told you your eyes were like stars, your hair was silky and smooth and how lucky he was to have you as his girlfriend, a smart and powerful girl, with the added bonus of being beautiful. Just like Allura. His starstruck gaze was the same he faced Allura with. She was first. She was the young newfound romance; you were the record the replayed the story. The closest thing to the original, but still not Allura. 

“We have to go back to the earth! My family is waiting!” Lance reasoned. Each trip to Altea you found you yearning to stay, feeling so at home in this new world. 

“We’re always on earth! Can't your farm wait for just a couple more days?” You begged. You loved the simple farm life of earth but were always bound to the stars. 

“No, we can’t” he crossed his arms, eyes darkening. 

“don't you miss exploring space? Seeing the universe” 

“If you wanted to go space exploring then you should’ve gone off with Keith!”  

“Lance, these are my people, the need me!”  

“Allura, I need you!” 

Silence befell the room, consuming all previous shouting, only leaving waves of regret in its wake.  

“Y/N I-” 

“Lance she’s gone!” tears spilled form your eyes. “And no matter how badly you miss her I’ll never be her!” you cried. 

“I’ll never be Allura!” 

“I know that...” his voice trembled, face staring at the ground. “I know...” his fists were clenched and his form was quivering. You couldn't stand it.  

That once healed scar now lay as an open wound, bleeding out, blood painting the floors scarlet. Vulnerable to infections and disease. It had been so long since you felt like this. As if an organ were removed from your body. In lay a spear. One which lance had thrown. 

"No, you don't"

[goldenkirstein]

somewhere only we know

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

chapter one: somewhere only we know

pairing: eventual jean x gn! reader, as of rn, mikasa ackerman x gn! platonic! reader

wc: 1192

tags: angst, MAJOR AOT CH 139 SPOILERS, major character death mention, mentions of death, mentions of violence. Reader is eldian, but no mention of physical attributes.

a/n: With the end of aot, I needed to write something to cope, this is not fluffy ahhh, but I wrote this while I was crying to this playlist by @alert-arlert (ty for the 10/10 playlist heh). This isn't exactly romance buttttt I don't think I'm done writing this tbh and want to explore that with any upcoming parts. This is also like my second piece of writing for anime and my first time writing something of this sorts lmao, any criticism or advice is appreciated.

next.

series masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You brushed the hair out of her face.

The past three years had not been easy ones. Not for anyone. The years had been especially unkind towards Mikasa Ackerman.

She stirred in her sleep. You always felt terrible disturbing her; she always looked so peaceful when she was asleep, crimson scarf wrapped around her, chest rising and falling. The withered and whorled bark of the ancient tree hardly being a comfortable resting for the young woman, and yet, the tranquil expression on her face could convince any wandering traveller that the tree was a worthy place to lay one’s worries to rest.

“Mikasa, it’s getting late. We should head back.” For almost every week, for the past three years, you would accompany the young Ackerman to visit the grave of her most beloved. On some days, you would sit with her, reminiscing of days long gone; on other days, the both of you would sit in silence, looking upon the vast fields, the view which once was obstructed by the imposing walls; a grim reminder of the events that transpired years prior. Occasionally, you would watch Mikasa from a distance, allowing her to spend time with her memories of Eren.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Mikasa stretched, looking towards the sky. You lent her a hand as she slowly got up. Giving you a tender smile, the young woman thanked you. The both of you began making your way down the hill, one of her hands clutching yours, the other grasping the wilted flowers she gathered from Eren’s resting spot.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “They’re all coming tomorrow. It’s been a while. Wonder if they all look the same.” You glanced down at your feet, the feeling of uncertainty rising in your chest.

The young woman smiled at your actions, “It has, though I’m sure they haven’t changed any more than we have. Knowing them, they would always stick out like sore thumbs, no matter where.”

You let out a faint chuckle, taking a deep breath in as both you and Mikasa approached the small lodgings in the distance. What she had said was true. It was inevitable that all of you would have changed. Turning your head, you observed the Ackerman; she had grown out her hair; the once blunt ends now neatly sat gathered over her shoulder. Mikasa had endured, more than most would have. You understood that. Eren’s actions weighed heavily on you as well, mentally and physically. Oftentimes, you would catch yourself looking at your reflection of a store window, confused as to who you were seeing. A weathered soldier? A traitor to their nation? An Eldian? A devil?

Maybe, Armin had grown his hair out again, like when you all were in the training corps. Were he and Annie together? Connie still hadn’t visited his mother, had he? Did Jean ever shave that excuse of a beard? Your eyebrows scrunched together, questions forming and disappearing in your head. You shook your head, smiling at the thought of your comrades, no, your dear friends, the ambassadors of peace. Did they manage to find a way to curb the threat of war?

Mikasa reached for the handle on the worn door, turning it and stepping inside to the cottage; she closed the door after you came inside and made her way to the washroom.

“It was a long day. I’m going to take a bath. Do you mind making some tea in the meantime?” You gave her a nod and turned to shrug off your cardigan, setting it on the small table by the house’s entrance. You tossed your head back, eyes landing on the grainy mahogany ceiling, your eyelids fluttered shut, and you heard the washroom door close, the sound of water filling the tub following shortly. Opening your eyes slowly, you lowered your head. Walking over to the kitchen, you filled a kettle with water, setting it up on the stove. Leaning back on the kitchen counter, you allowed your eyes to close once more.

You had come back to Paradis with Mikasa on that day.

It was sort of a haze for everyone mostly, the feeling that they had woken up from a long dream. You had thought it was the end of the line for you and your comrades, death inevitable as you were all turned into pure titans in a flash.

You remember seeing her emerge from the smoke clutching Eren's head in her arms, holding him close to her heart. The sight of his decapitated head contrasting the memory of him from just moments prior. He had been sitting with you, explaining why he did what he did, apologizing, sharing his regrets and saying his final goodbye.

Was this death? No, it couldn’t have been. Mikasa was there; she wasn’t dead, was she?

“I should go. If I stayed, Eren...He wouldn’t get a proper burial; they wouldn’t give him one.” Mikasa had come and sat next to you, whispering a goodbye before getting up to leave.

You jerked your head back, scrambling to stand up, stance wobbling, “Mikasa, wait! Where are you going?” She faltered in her step, turning around to face you once more; seeing Eren like this was still a harrowing sight.

“Paradis. It’s useless for me to keep fighting. I’m taking him home.”

“You can’t go by yourself! The Yeagerists would string you up in the square for doing what you did!” Eren Yeager was dead. Mikasa Ackerman had killed him. The Yeagerists would never let her live if they knew that. “I’m coming with you! I won’t- I can’t, lose any more people to this.”

Mikasa’s shoulder’s dropped, giving you a steely-eyed expression. “No. You will stay here with Armin, and he’s taking the blame for Eren. You can work out a plan with him and the others to save humanity.” Armin and the others? Were they alive?

Pivoting around, you saw the hoard of Eldians embracing one another in the distance. A gasp left your lips; you turned to face Mikasa, glassy-eyed, your chest heaving, overcome with relief.

“I’ll be fine. I played my part in this story; I want to go home. Please.” As much as you wanted to run and find Armin, Connie and Jean among the rest, you would never forgive yourself if you left her behind to play diplomat, as she suffered in silence with no one there to comfort her.

You stepped up to her, “Mikasa, I’ve always been by your side, haven’t I? You’re my family as I’m yours, and what kind of person would I be if I abandoned you now? Armin will be fine. He is plenty capable, and besides, who would take care of you?” She opened her mouth to object. You gave her arm a gentle squeeze. She averted her gaze, and she shut her mouth, opting for a curt nod.

And with that, you and the Ackerman girl made your way back to where it all began, your home. Paradis. You turned your head around one last time to watch those closest to you disappear from your sight.

a/n: I hope this was okay, if you liked this story and would like more parts please let me know !! as well as if you wanna see some other relationships blossom with the reader...jean is coming soon tho so yeah

Leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed reading this. I would appreciate it a lot <33

[the-lonelybarricade]

Loved your latest chapter and Im so excited to see what happens under the mountain!

I was wondering if I could request a one-shot?(up to you how long and you can do it in your own time)something along the lines of:

Feyre( from either ACOWAR, ACOFAS or ACOSF) time travels back to ACOTAR, but instead of finding herself back in her human body i the spring court, she's still in her fae body and ends up trapped in velaris, having to explain to the rest of IC who she is and why she cant go free their highlord(add some mistrust from the IC)

🙈🙈Id its very similar to what youre doing rn with your other fic but, if you find the inspiration sometime could you please do this? Ive wanted to read a fic for ages were feyre rime travels and meets pre-acomaf inner circle who dont know/trust her, but Ive never found a fic like that

Thank youuu

Hi lovely anon! It makes me so happy you enjoyed my latest chapter! I’m supposed to be working on a project for uni, but I couldn’t resist gratifying my lovely friends (because you're anon and won't be notified I was getting sad at the idea of you checking my blog and not seeing me respond) <3 I’ll admit I’m a bit scatterbrained at the moment, so I hope it’s okay!

I was having trouble brainstorming a reason for Feyre getting sent back in time because I didn't want to borrow the reasoning from ACoFD. So I was vague and twisted the pre-existing rules around the Ouroboros, and ended up getting quite carried away with the story since I don’t like not giving things a happy ending (even though it’s a little cheesy, sorry)

Anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for! I know you wanted the angst of not being able to save Rhys but... I couldn't just leave my poor bat-boy behind, you know? ;)

Also if this didn't quite scratch that itch, I'm always happy to take more requests

Word count: 4,446

The Ouroboros.

It was a massive, round disc—as tall as Feyre was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail.

Ending and beginning.

From across the room, Feyre could not see it. What lay within.

She forced herself to take a step forward. Another.

The mirror itself was black as night—yet… wholly clear.

She watched herself approach. Watched the arm she had upraised against the wind and snow, the pinched expression on her face. The exhaustion.

She stopped three feet away. She did not dare touch it.

It only showed Feyre herself. Nothing.

Feyre scanned the mirror for any signs of… something to push or touch with her magic. But there was only the devouring head of the serpent, its maw open wide, frost sparkling on its fangs.

Feyre stared and stared, but all she saw was herself. There was nothing else. Then—

Feyre woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed to shake away the cobwebs of sleep and the strange, foreboding feeling that felt draped around her shoulders like a weighted cape, pulling her down. It hadn’t been a particularly horrifying nightmare. In fact, it was perhaps of the tamer dreams she’d had in the last year.

Yet something about it clung to her, perhaps a lingering agitation that she’d yet to retrieve the mirror the Bone Carver had requested. That must be it.

The bed space beside her was cold. The sun peaking through the window was not high, it couldn’t be long past dawn. However worrisome her own dream, her mate’s must have been worse to draw him from sleep so early. Worse still for him to sneak away.

Feyre rose from the bed, reaching absently for Rhysand’s dressing robe to wrap around herself. She always loved to steal her mate’s clothes, to be wrapped in his scent.

With gentle steps, she made her way to the study, where she could only assume Rhys had sequestered himself in the lone hours of the night. She’d noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. This war was weighing on him heavily, and he was nervous. Feyre wished he didn’t insist on shouldering the burden alone.

“Rhys?” Feyre called softly as she got to the study, knocking on the door before she cracked it open.

Peeking her head around the door, she was met with the sight of Rhysand’s abandoned study. The scattered papers and war maps that had become characteristic of his desk space were surprisingly missing. In fact, the whole space had been cleared away and there was a thick layer of dust on every surface as if no one had been in here in years.

Feyre frowned at the sight, and how different it had been just the day before. Where had all the dust come from? And more importantly, where was Rhys? Perhaps he’d taken a morning flight to clear his head.

Where are you, love? She called to him through the mating bond, but was met with silence.

“Who are you?”

The voice was cold and venomous. Feyre turned, coming face to face with Mor, whose face was twisted into a threatening scowl.

“Mor?” Feyre asked, confused by her friend’s cold demeanor. “What do you mean? Have you seen Rhys?”

Mor’s face turned deadly, a look Feyre had only ever seen from Mor in the Court of Nightmares. “Is that some kind of joke?” she snarled.

Then, before Feyre could process what was happening, Mor had gripped onto Feyre’s wrist and they were enveloped in darkness. They stepped into the House of Wind, into the dining room where Cassian and Azriel abruptly stood up.

“Mor?” Feyre questioned when the blonde didn’t release her steel grip. She looked to Cassian and Azriel quizzically. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Cassian crossed his arms, assessing Feyre with a hostility that put her on edge. “Who’s this, Mor?” he asked gruffly.

Feyre frowned as she watched Azriel reach for Truth-Teller.

“Is this a joke?” she asked, flitting her eyes to each of her friends. Where she sought that friendly warmth in each of their gazes she was met with hard stares, filled with distrust, ready for a brawl. She couldn’t make sense of it. Was this an act Rhys had put them up to?

“I found her in the townhouse,” Mor said. “I don’t know how she got in there. She was in Rhysand’s study.”

“And she’s wearing his dressing gown,” Azriel noted dryly. Cassian did a double glance, his eyes going wide, then narrowing with a rage Feyre had never seen from the male. Certainly never directed at her.

There was a whisper of shadow, then suddenly Azriel was behind her, Truth-Teller poised at her throat.

Feyre startled. “Azriel!” she said sharply. Even if it was a joke, Feyre couldn’t imagine Rhysand would sanction this kind of threat. And the energy in the room was off, the tension too thick. “Stand down.”

“And who are you,” he breathed in her ear, his voice coated in shadow and nightmare, “to command the Shadowsinger of the Night Court?”

“I’m your High Lady,” Feyre answered steadily, not letting Azriel’s shadows, nor cunning voice, shake her resolve. “Now, I don’t know what is going on with the three of you, or what strange joke you’re trying to pull, but you will listen to what I say. Put. Your. Knife. Down.”

“High Lady?” Cassian repeated with a snort of disbelief. “You’ve got balls, little girl.”

Truth-Teller danced across the skin of her neck, pressing lightly enough to intimidate without breaking skin. “Do you even know to whom you speak? You should be bowing before the acting Queen of the Night Court.”

Too stunned to properly resist, Azriel kicked his feet out to knock Feyre to her knees in front of Mor. His fingers slid into her hair, gripping it tightly to pull her head back as Truth-Teller resumed its threatening position at her throat.

“Breaking into the High Lord’s personal residence, impersonating a high position within the Night Court, lying to the Morrigan’s face,” Azriel listed, increasing the pressure of the blade with each transgression. “You throw our High Lord’s generosity and protection in his face, something we as his acting Court do not take lightly.”

“Acting court? Acting Queen?” Feyre repeated, feeling as if she’d woken to a different reality. “What are you talking about? Where’s Rhysand!?”

“We’re the ones asking the questions here,” Cassian growled.

Feyre looked to each of her friends, studying their faces. Beyond their militant expression, she could see their grief. Could smell it. She repeated, “where is Rhysand?”

She felt the snarl that rumbled through Azriel’s chest behind her, vibrating against her back. When the question was once again unanswered, Feyre abandoned all sense of patience.

Darkness exploded through the room. She heard Mor gasp as the walls of the House shook from the might of her power. Feyre folded into the shadows, winnowing out of Azriel’s grasp so she stood in the center of the three of them.

“Az, Cass, Mor, you are my friends and I do not want to hurt you. But I am also your High Lady and you will answer me this instant, where is Rhys? Where is my mate!?”

Siphons gleamed red and blue through the thick tendrils of night, illuminating the Illyrian males’ faces. Cassian’s jaw had fallen open, while Azriel was studying her through narrowed eyes, wisps of shadow surrounding him. Feyre wondered what they were whispering to him.

“Mate?” Cassian echoed, the first to break the heavy silence.

Mor took a cautious step forward, her countenance completely changed. Her pupils were blown wide, twin brown depths churning with sorrow and gentle astonishment. Azriel went rigid at Mor’s approach, but no one moved to stop her as she came face to face with Feyre.

“Where did you get this?” she whispered, taking Feyre’s left hand, eye fixed on her mating band. On the sapphire-star ring that once belonged to Rhysand’s mother.

All eyes befell the subject of Mor’s attention. Cassian swore softly in recognition.

“It’s my mating band,” Feyre answered measuredly, still puzzled that the inner circle, her family, didn’t seem to have any memory of it. Nor of her. “I won it from the Weaver, as was the task set by Rhysand’s mother. But you were all there for that. I don’t understand what’s going on. Where. Is. Rhys?”

“Under the Mountain,” Mor whispered, her voice soft and pained.

The darkness ebbed away like a receding tide. Feyre felt her heart sink as she tried to process this information. “He—What?”

“He’s been Under the Mountain for the last 50 years,” Mor said, firmer this time. “And if you were his so-called mate, you would know that.”

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible. We got out. We—”

This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, and she just hadn’t woken up from it.

“Amarantha’s dead,” Feyre insisted, mostly in an attempt to console the unparalleled grief and panic that were raging inside her. “She’s dead, and Rhys and I got out.”

The grim faces of her friends said otherwise. They stared at her, in unbearable mixtures of pity and horror.

“I think she’s having a mental break,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “Should we get a healer?”

“Let me show you,” Feyre said meekly, casting her magic out to tap on their mental shields.

They all tensed, clearly not aware they’d been in the presence of a daemati. Trained well by Rhys, they all cracked their shields just enough for Feyre to send her conjured memories through. She showed them going Under the Mountain as a human, winning the trials and being resurrected, falling in love with Rhys, and eventually becoming High Lady of the Night Court. In turn, the three of them pushed back their own memories, of the current state of the world. Of Rhysand sacrificing himself so that his Court and Velaris would be safe.

A sob broke out of Feyre. “How is this possible? How am I here?”

It was Azriel who immediately went for the jugular. “More importantly, if you’re here as a High Fae, how is Rhys going to get out? How do we stop Amarantha?”

Feyre fell to her knees, grief-stricken by this realization. She was no longer human. She couldn’t stride in as Tamlin’s human lover and undergo the trials. Feyre had her powers, but they were untested. Would she be able to take on the whole of Amarantha’s court?

“What do I do? How do I save him?” she whimpered, staring in mute horror at her mating band.

Mor tentatively reached forward, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s shoulder. “Rhys sacrificed himself to keep the people he loves safe. He wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed trying to save him.”

“I have to try,” Feyre answered desperately. “Amarantha she’s…” Feyre couldn’t bring herself to say the word, rape. Not to his family, who wear his sacrifice for them like an open wound. “She’s doing unspeakable things to him. He’s suffering so much. I can’t leave him to that fate. I have to try.”

With renewed conviction, Feyre accepted Mor’s outstretched hand and picked herself to her feet. “Rhys said it himself once. Amarantha’s biggest weapon is that she keeps the High Lord’s power contained. She can’t access them herself. But I… I have access to all the High Lords’ powers. And that bitch has my mate. My wrath will be plenty to take her down.” She faced her friends, who watched her warily. “You have my word as your High Lady,” she swore to them. “The High Queen of Prythian is going to fall by the night’s end.”

⟡⟡⟡

Winter had not yet fallen in the Mortal Lands. Feyre wondered if across the world, there was a version of herself curled in a bed with her sisters, clinging to any shred of warmth and survival.

That version of Feyre was very different from the version who strode up the sloping hills of the Spring Court with Azriel by her side. Rhys would be furious that Feyre had allowed him to accompany her. Should anything go wrong, it would destroy her mate to know his family had been put in harm's way after everything he’d done to protect them. Which was why it was only Azriel who came with, the only compromise she could reach with his Inner Circle, who insisted on coming with.

Who better to sneak into the Mountain with than the very soldier who taught Feyre the art of stealth. He was the obvious choice, since Mor needed to stay to rule the Night Court and Cassian was too heavy-handed to handle such a delicate task.

Their footfall was silent. Feyre wrapped them in the shadow of Night as they winnowed through the cave network. Her heart hammered in her chest, panicked to be back in the source of so many nightmares.

But Rhysand was more important than her fear. For him, she would not falter.

With the Shadowsinger by her side, Feyre snuck through the winding tunnels until she came to a familiar passageway. They slid into a massive, dark bedroom, lit only by a few candles.

To attack Amarantha in the throne room would be too messy. Too many variables to contend with, should Amarantha have enough wit about her to use any faeries as a shield. Especially Rhysand.

After several hours of waiting, the lock on the door clicked and swung open. Darkness swirled around the room as Rhysand took in the sight of Feyre and Azriel on the bed.

Immediately, the door slammed shut.

“No,” he whispered, voice dripping with horror. “No.”

“Rhys—” Feyre started, but her mate wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was looking at Azriel as if his whole world had shattered.

“Leave,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. This was no happy reunion between brothers. This was Rhysand’s worst nightmare. “Leave this instant, you stupid fool. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have avoided detection when you passed under her wards.”

“I took down the wards,” Feyre said. They weren’t particularly strong, either. Amarantha had gotten lazy, perhaps thinking herself secure with the only spell-cleaver under her control. Or so she believed.

Rhys turned that quiet fury towards her. “And who are you?”

“Your mate,” Feyre answered steadily, tipping her chin up.

Rhysand laughed. A desperate, humorless sound. “Then you are just as foolish as my idiot brother. And you have both sealed your deaths by being here. Do you understand that?”

Feyre scratched along those familiar adamantite shields. Rhys’s eyes flickered in surprise, but otherwise he looked unruffled as he cracked a sliver open for her.

It would be unwise to underestimate me, mate.

I wouldn’t be going around boasting about such a thing, if what you claim is even true, came his icy response. And I wouldn’t count on a few party tricks to save you, either.

And what if I told you, she purred, that I possess the power of all seven High Lords?

That, at least, garnered a reaction from the stoic male. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief, studying Feyre carefully. His gaze caught on her hands, at the lace tattoos that flowed to her fingers. And the mating band she still wore.

Feyre watched those violet eyes go wide, the silver constellations dancing in astonishment at the sight of his mother’s ring.

Where did you get that?

It’s a long story, love, but you’re going to have to trust me. She lowered her mental shields completely. Have a look for yourself. I’m telling you no lies. I am your High Lady, and I am here to free my husband.

She felt those familiar talons wrap around her mind. A foolish thing to do, to give a daemati unrestricted access to her mind. And if it were anyone but Rhys, it would have been. But his touch was gentle, and he took only the information he needed.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” he whispered, breaking the silence of the room. Azriel had been waiting patiently, but looked relieved to be included in the conversation once more. “And I hate that you’ve put yourselves in danger for this, but it could work.”

Rhys considered for a long moment, then he looked between Feyre and Azriel and said, “do it when she’s sleeping. That bitch has been playing dirty for 50 years, you might as well level the playing field to give yourselves the best chance. Let’s do it tonight. I’ll leave the door unlocked, wear her out, and signal you once she’s asleep. Her spell prevents me from harming her, but I’ll make sure she’s restrained. All you have to do is drive the ash dagger through her heart, but have your magic ready for damage control.”

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre and Azriel waited in Rhysand’s bedchambers for his signal. There was a revelry tonight, as there was every night Under the Mountain, and Rhys was expected to be in attendance. Afterwards, he’d join Amarantha in her bed and make sure she was, in his words, “thoroughly exhausted”.

It was torturous for Feyre. To know exactly what the implication in those words were, to have to use her mate’s body in such a way. She wanted to roar at the Mountain, at the Cauldron, at anything that would listen, but instead she was next to the quiet, brooding Shadowsinger, and lamented in silence.

She’d begged Rhys to reconsider, to perhaps help them stage a more physical encounter that didn’t rely on his own suffering. But he’d denied any plan but the one he’d proposed, insisting it would cause him more anguish to but Feyre and Azriel in harm's way.

So they waited the long, agonizing hours until she felt a delicate pull at her chest. She’s asleep, Rhys called. Be on your guard.

He sent her directions to Amarantha’s bedchambers. There were guards outside, but Feyre and Azriel winnowed past them, cloaked in night and shadow.

Amarantha’s bedchambers were huge. Feyre had never been inside them before, but she was unsurprised to see they provided any luxury a High Queen could wish for.

Atop a large bed of red, silken sheets, lay her mate and Amarantha, both stark naked. The smell of sex clung to the air, Rhysand and Amarantha’s scents intertwined. Feyre thought she might be sick.

Even more sickening was the sight before her, of Amarantha’s arms restrained to the headboard in cloth. A clever way for Rhys to restrain her under the guise of sex, but horrifying nonetheless, to see the proof of what they’d been up to. The female was fast asleep, so convinced of her authority that she could fall asleep tied-up and not feel vulnerable doing so. How satisfying, Feyre thought, that such arrogance would be her downfall.

Feyre warded the room, putting up a shield of darkness so that no sound would break through to alert the guards. Rhys watched their approach warily from where he perched beside Amarantha, so still Feyre was convinced he held his breath.

He wouldn’t risk moving to wake her up, which terrified Feyre. Should something go wrong, her mate would be susceptible to Amarantha’s wrath. Naked, vulnerable, and completely under her control. It was such a dangerous game they were playing.

The room was as quiet and still as the bewitching hours of the night, their footsteps silent as they picked across the room. Azriel held the ash dagger. If Rhys could not kill Amarantha, his brother wanted to do it on his behalf. Meanwhile, Feyre summoned tendrils of night that carefully wrapped around Amarantha’s legs, slithering up her body like a snake, ready to constrict and restrain.

The female stirred in her sleep, perhaps feeling the ghostlike touch of Feyre’s magic. But she did not wake. Not as Azriel raised the dagger over her chest, and not as he plunged it down.

Amarantha’s eyes shot open as the dagger pierced her chest. She let out a shriek of agony and ire, moving to claw at her attacker. She raged against the restraints, spewing obscenities until they died at her lips as the blade sunk into her heart.

Rhysand’s chest was heaving as he watched the female still, then slump. He looked from her dead body, to Azriel and Feyre.

Feyre’s heart sank as she watched her mate process that it was truly over. There wasn’t a trace of elation in his eyes at being liberated, but she understood why. Rhys would finally be returning home, but as a much different man than the one he had been. He’d survived, but not unscathed, and he’d need time to process this.

Feyre came to him, reached towards her mate with the hand that bore his mother’s ring. Rhys looked to it, then up to her. His eyes were clouded with sorrow, with a melancholy she could only hope to chip away at in time. But she could see stirring beneath it was a breath of hope, perhaps the first he’d allowed himself in a long time.

“Let’s go home, Rhys,” she said gently.

Slowly, Rhysand nodded, moving to grasp her hand. She felt him jolt at the touch and, as she glanced at him questioningly, she saw his lips part in wonder.

I suppose you weren’t lying about being my mate, he whispered, the words a sensual brush in her mind. Thank you for coming to rescue me, High Lady.

Feyre grasped onto Azriel, and together the three of them stepped into darkness.

Then, they were above the House of Wind, tumbling through the night sky. Feyre unfurled her wings before Rhys could move to catch them, worried that her mate would struggle after 50 years without flight.

Both males stared in astonishment at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes danced in awe as Feyre, albeit clumsily, carried them to the training ring on the roof.

Rhys snapped his own wings open as they landed. Feyre watched him tilt his head back in rapture as he felt the wind against his wings for the first time in decades. Then he opened his eyes, his expression shifting to reverence as he beheld the night sky.

“I was beginning to think I’d never see it again,” he whispered, his voice a heartbreaking blend of exaltation and disbelief. “And for this gift… for my salvation to be courtesy of my mate and of my brother… I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted sheepishly.

Feyre hesitated. If this was the Rhysand from before, the one to which she was mated and married, she would come to comfort him. But this version of Rhys had only just been freed from enslavement, and she didn’t know what he needed.

As though sensing her hesitation, Rhys cast his eyes back to the sky. “I know they’re all waiting for me downstairs, but I’d like a little bit of time with the stars. Will you let them know, Az?”

Azriel nodded, though he seemed conflicted. His reunion with his brother was perhaps not as merry as the male had expected. But right now, she knew the Inner Circle would hardly deny Rhys anything. Perhaps for a long while yet. So Azriel headed downstairs to inform their friends, who were sure to be anxiously awaiting their arrival.

Rhysand regarded Feyre carefully once the two of them were alone. “Mate and High Lady,” he mused. “You seem to wear many hats.”

“You forgot ‘wife’,” Feyre said lightly.

“Yes, and ‘Salvation’, ‘Queen Killer’, ‘Most Beautiful Female in Prythian’, it seems there’s many things I could call you. Could we start with your name, perchance?”

Feyre was shocked. She’d assumed he’d taken such information out of her mind earlier, but it seems he’d been even more respectful than she’d expected.

“Feyre,” she answered. “My name is Feyre.”

He looked wonderstruck. “Feyre,” he repeated, testing the name on his lips. A gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth, the first she’d seen from him yet. He extended his hand towards her. “Would you like to watch the stars with me, Feyre?”

It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Her hand found his with all the casual grace of a dancer, as if it were a routine they’d been perfecting their whole lives. Their fingers interlocked and as one, they stared up at the dazzling night sky.

This reality wasn’t perfect, Feyre thought. This Rhys was different from her own, and he still had a lot of healing to do. But if she could be there for him, to help him in a ways she hadn’t before, then she would be grateful to the strange eddies of the Cauldron for bringing her here. For allowing her to end his torment early. For giving them this extra time.

She watched a shooting star dart across the sky and smiled as it passed. There was nothing she could wish for except that her mate find peace in all that he’d endured the last half century.

His deep, velvety voice cut through the silence. “Do you often wish on stars, Feyre?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a heart-wrenching wistfulness.

“Only when I have a wish worthy of the stars.”

“And do you?”

Feyre looked to the northernmost star, which shined brightest in the sky. “I wished for a light in the darkness,” she told him. “I don’t think the stars would ever begrudge such a wish.”

Rhysand nodded solemnly. “It’s true that they would be begrudging themselves in doing so. But I see no need for you to wish for such a thing.”

Feyre looked to him. He was still watching her, but something in him had shifted. He was smiling at her gently, that lingering sadness already receding. “Why’s that?” she asked cautiously.

That gentle smile widened, showing off his brilliant teeth. “Why, Feyre, to find such a thing, all you’d need to do is look in a mirror.”

[fweasleyswhore]

Ok this might be a little long so I’m sorry but finals got me feeling some sort of way. So could you do a fic where it’s finals week and the fem!reader is stressed about what of her NEWTS that Oliver doesn’t have and it’s really late in the library, so late that the librarian isn’t even there because the reader had a key to lock up. And Oliver knows the reader has a tendency to lose track of time and work herself to the bone without really noticing. So he stops by the library to pick her up and basically has to carry her out of the library. And he takes her to his dorm instead because he knows everyone else is sneaking out to party and hogsmeade because they’ve finished whatever newts they had and he knows if he took the reader to her dorm she would keep working. And he’s like “you need some stress relief” and he’s touching her leg but she’s so tired and he’s like “you just lay there and let me do all the work” and it’s just a soft romantic smut and he keeps going until she’s exhausted (like she finishes a couple times ~3) I’m so sorry this is so long I just needed to get this out of my mind

a/n: fucking yes, and as someone who is in finals week i just, need that rn, like oliver to fuck me so good and sleep away the stress just, yes so here you go darling! sorry it took me a hot min to get to

general tags: @fredshmeasley @pandaxnienke

oliver tags: @peachyy-em @losers-club6

word count: 2.7k 

warnings: smut, 18+ themes, soft romantic smut, fingering/oral fem recieving, unprotected sex

My eyes hurt but I continued scanning my advanced potion book. My N.E.W.T. was next week and I was one of five students who decided to take this class. I was intrigued by potions, having been all my life, so being able to take the highest level class Hogwarts offered I jumped. Of course, I was not very fond of Snape, or how he treated his students but the subject matter was enough to get me through. I felt the weight of the library key in my pocket as I stood up to put some of my books back. Although my stack was getting smaller it wasn’t yet completely finished.

Adjusting the candle my eyes stung as the light flickered. Despite the pain, I set the candle down opening the chapter Chizpurfle Carapace trying to memorize its effects and uses.

“Thought I would find you here.” The voice made me jump causing the candle to turn over and spill wax all over the table. My shock faded and I was filled with anger, swiveling in my chair prepared to hex whoever caused it. My eyes softened when I saw him.

His tongue in his cheek and a worried expression cast over his face as he examined the area. Silently I watched him pull out his wand, casting a spell under his breath his eyes didn’t meet mine.

“Ollie what are you doing here?” I asked. He shifted on his feet, finally pulling his eyes up to mine.

“Looking for my beautiful girl of course.” His words were accompanied by a cheeky grin, confidence rolling off of him in waves. I felt my face heat up but I pushed my feelings aside turning back to my book.

“I need to study,” I said quietly trying to hide my face under the pages of my book.

“No. You need to rest.” He moved in front of me. Successfully capturing my book is his hands and closing it. Deciding against fighting him, knowing of his iron grip I looked up at him. He looked ethereal in the low candle light, towering over me. A soft smile spread across my face just admiring his features.

“I’m not on the Quidditch team you can’t order me around you know.”

“I damn will try.” His words came out with a half hearted laugh.

“Seriously I need to study, can I-” Right when I reached for the book he pulled it out of my reach, a glint in his eye I couldn’t quite read.

“You can try to fight me for your book back, a fight you will lose. Try to study with another book of which I will take from you and bring you back to option one, or you can come out of this dingy library with me and take a break.”

“But I don’t need a break-”

“Yes. You. Do. Now, up.” He held out his free hand for me to take. Sighing I grabbed it, like a truck I felt the days and tireless hours of study finally catch up to me. I faltered slightly as I stood feeling my body try and weigh myself down like a bag of bricks. “Easy now, I got you.”

I felt his arm slip around my waist, offering more support and I leaned into it. Putting the book down on the desk I was as he grabbed his wand, sending the books back into their proper places.

“Thank you Ollie.” He hummed pressing a light kiss to my temple and led me out of the library. I didn’t pay much attention to walking as he led me away, pushing my face into his chest. I breathed in his familiar and distinct scent. Cinnamon Gum, hints of leather and oak. It made me smile and my stomach flip, the only thing convincing me that it wasn’t a dream being I felt his ever present arms around me.

“Key?” He asked, closing the doors with the arm not around me.

“Pocket, here.” I shoved my hands into my pocket, rummaging around for a second before depositing it in his palm. Our fingers touched and the skin on skin contact made fireworks erupt in my body, the feeling of his hand became more present on my waist as I let my mind wander to the other things his hands can do.

“Cmon, why are you standing there like a statue. Let’s go.” His words snapped me out of my daze and I forced my legs to walk, hiding my face in his shoulder as we walked, trying to diminish the thoughts of him in more precarious ways.

My eyes were half closed as we walked back through the portrait hole, trusting Oliver to dispose of me back in my dorm. Finally I fell back against a bed, letting my body relax into it and blinking around trying to see where we are.

“Is this your dorm?” I asked as he pulled off my boot.

“Yeah, I don’t trust you to not go right back to your books when I leave you alone, also I never minded some company.” Pulling off the other boot, he discarded it on his floor and sat beside me. Pushing some stray hairs away from my face. “Can I help?”

I smiled weakly, leaning into his touch. “No, I’m just really stressed. It will be better after the exams pass.” He hummed. I watched his eyes wander to different points in his room, never staying in one place too long. A cheeky smirk found his face and he stopped his searching looking down at me.

“I have an idea.”

“What’s that?” I leaned up, a shiver of excitement tore through me, waking me slightly.

“Let me help you calm down darling.” His hands stopped playing with my hair, they trailed down to my neck, then my chest and finally my thigh. Where he let his hands trail lightly on the skin, moving in small meaningless patterns leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Ollie, I’m tired.” I reminded, catching his drift. The idea did sound wonderful, I just wasn’t interested in foreplay and giving tonight. The idea felt unfair.

“Let me do all the work, can you let me do that for you darling?” He began grabbing my thigh more roughly, the feeling sent shivers down my spine and my stomach flipped in anticipation. He continued, cocking his eyebrow at me.

“Please.” I gave in, the feeling of arousal winning the fight against my tired state. “I need you.”

“That's what I like to hear.” He laughed before leaning down and catching my lips in a kiss. It was slow but it was enough with his added touch to quicken my heart rate. He brought his hand up my thigh, stroking it softly until he got to my underwear, which most definitely soaked at the point. Running his finger up and down my clothed sex he chuckled lightly, pulling away. My lips tried to follow but he got too far, opening my eyes I caught onto his cocky grin.

“Tired are we?” He teased. I let out a short hiff of annoyance preparing to push back but before I could he had pushed my panties aside, thumbing my clit gently. Letting out a soft moan I relaxed pushing my head into his thigh. Everything drained from my mind at the feeling, my body went limp, twitching at the slightest touch.

“Feel good sweetheart?” I nodded in response unable to conjure up words at the given moment. His fingers sped up at my response, working quickly with my slick to make me see stars.

“So good.” I breathed out. My eyes fluttered open to see him smiling at me, the shit eating grin told me my reactions were feeding his ego but the feeling spreading through my body was enough to distract me from caring. He began to thumb with a little more pressure. I felt my hips buck into his touch on their own accord, meeting his every move with ferocity. His other hand came up to stroke my hair, running through it gently and scratching my scalp with his fingers. The feeling felt amazing paired with his work below.

“Come on baby,” He coaxed, picking up his pace below. “Cum darling, let go.” I nodded, screwing my eyes shut and shoving my face into his thigh I let out a languid moan as he worked me through my orgasm, never stopping the rhythm of his hand. I bucked into his touch until it became too much and my hips fell against the bed, he understood, slowing his hand down and going back to stroking my thigh.  

“Thank you.” I whispered, a lazy smile found its way to my mouth, batting my eyes up at him.

“I hope you don’t think I'm done with you yet.” he laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“What is the use of… Fluxweed?”

“It has healing properties but can be used in the Polyjuice potion if your sample is picked on the full moon.” I recounted my knowledge on the subject, my books flooding into my mind. “But what does this have to do with anything right now?”

“I don’t want you to be thinking about that right now, I want you to relax.”

“What did you expect? You asked.” A small giggle escaped my lips before I could stop it. Wishing I did when he glared at me.

“I mean,” He said with an eye roll. “When I am done with you I don’t want you to remember what a potion is.” I gulped at his words, his intentions sending a shiver down my spine, feeling myself growing wetter.

“Then I suggest you get to work.” I challenged. He smirked and changed his position on the bed. Hovering over my I finally got a good look at his face.

“You know I suggest you stop back talking if you want me to do this.” I smiled, leaning up I pecked his cheeks which soon took a rosy glow. “I’ll take that as an apology.” I giggled again as he started crawling down my body, peppering kisses to my abdomen that still tickled even through my clothes.

He settled himself between my thighs, pushing up my skirt, he pressed a few kisses to my hips in doing so. He was gentle as if too much pressure would cause me to shatter.

Hooking his fingers into my panties he pulled them down, I helped him by killing them off.

“So pretty,” Pressing another kiss to my folds I giggled at the contact. “My pretty baby.” He lapped a stripe up my folds, making me moan out and buck into his mouth. His hands were on my thighs, rubbing up and down and holding me in place to stop me from doing that again. He soon attached his tongue to my clit, lapping it and sucking gently every so often. The feeling was indescribable, his mouth was skilled and it made my brain foggy. I felt my orgasm quickly build, the pit in my stomach growing with every second of his teasing.

“Just like that,” I breathed out. My hands travelled up under my shirt, squeezing my breasts with instinct. The added feeling added to the fever growing in my stomach. I picked up my head, I tried to meet his eyes. They were staring intently into mine, pupils dark, almost swallowing his iris, a physical indication of his lust. When our eyes met his pace quickened, his lips surrounded my clit, sucking on it while lapping on it with his tongue. “Ollie!” I screamed his name as I came for the second time, arching my back and screwing my eyes shut in the process. He hummed against my clit, working me through my orgasm. His grip on my thighs tightened as they spasmed and tried to close around him.

Pulling back he rested his head on my thigh, placing chaste pecks to my skin. “You did great baby, can you do another one?”

My eyes widened in shock that he wanted to continue but my core ached for more. “Please?” I asked.

“How about another one on my fingers and then you can have my cock?” He purred.

I nodded feverishly. Excitement growing in my stomach, fueling my arousal.

“Spread your legs baby.” He ordered pushing on my thighs. I pulled them up and to the side of my torso. “So pretty, spread out and wet for me.”

“Only for you.” I whispered back.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He plunged a finger into my dripping heat. I clenched around him from the sudden intrusion, moaning as he curved his finger to hit deep inside me just right.

“You like that?” He sped up his finger as he asked, moving it in and against my walls.

“Yes m-more please.” He chuckled darkly, adding another finger and thrusting them to hit the spot inside of me. I moaned at the contact, he made the connection and began thrusting against the spot with more fever. Intermittently scissoring them to open me up.

I felt my muscles twitch as his speed picked up, my stomach twisted with pleasure. He wrapped his lips around my clit and began sucking while continuing his ministrations below.

“Ollie, ‘m gonna cum.” I breathed out, my hips bucked into his touch. Throwing my head back I came hard onto his fingers, my release making obscene noises against his thrusts.

“So good princess.” He cooed. Pulling his fingers out he picked himself up, situated himself between my thighs. He picked up my shaky legs, wrapping them around his hips. I watched him through heavy eyes, he released his cock from his trousers, pulling it free I noted the precum leaking from his pink tip. The sight making me want to drool.

“You want to keep going baby? We can stop if you want to.” He ran his hands up and down my quivering thighs.

“Want you, inside me.” I whimpered, my brain was cloudy and I felt tired but not completely satisfied and I needed more.

With that he pushed completely inside of me in one thrust. He paused, his hips flush with mine, his pelvis rocked against my clit causing me to clench around his length eliciting a groan from him. “Move.” He did as I asked and began to thrust into me at a slow and sensual pace. He brought his head down attaching his lips to mine, one holding himself up the other gripping my hip as he steadily pumped into me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Seemingly understanding my message he dropped to his forearm, his chest pressing against mine. The feeling was erotic, it made the romantic feeling multiply and his thrusts feel all the more deep I loved it truly.

He attached his mouth to my neck, leaving open mouthed kisses against it. I tangled my hands in his hair, pulling on it each time he hit the spot inside of me. “You're such a beautiful princess.” He whispered against the shell of my ear. I moaned in response, unable to talk back in my brain fog.

He thrusted into me again rocking his hips against me as he bottomed out, rubbing against my clit. The feeling made the coil snap within me. My walls clenched around him as I let out a languid moan. He grunted into my neck, continuing his pace until he stuttered, bottoming out and spilling his seed inside of me. He rocked slowly, fucking his cum inside of me before gingerly pulling out with hiss. I was shaking as he did so, letting out a whine and throwing my head back against his pillows.

I tried to slow my ragged breaths as he laid down next to me.

“Better now?” He asked, running a few fingers through my hair. I nodded breathlessly, swallowing hard. “What is the use of a Fairy Wing?” A faint smile on his mouth as he asked.

“Ollie you know honestly, right now, I don’t care.” I laughed. Eying him from the corner of my vision I couldn’t miss the cocky smile that broke out on his face. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to!”

“Ugh, come here.” He wrapped me in his strong arms, burying my face in his chest I breathed in his scent, his heartbeat was a constant drum that lulled me to sleep, feeling satisfied and safe in his arms.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute.  “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always. 

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. 

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

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