#i like it of course. And i like how it's broken me out of my habit of only doodling

[webism]

Virgin!Nanami is hesitant the first time you go down on him, because as he's nearing his (blinding, world shattering) orgasm, you aren't pulling off of him.

He's played the scene a million times in his head before, late at night as he palmed his cock through his boxers and tried to will his mind away from such lewd thoughts of you. In every fantasy he had of you on your knees like you are now, you serve him with your mouth until he's close, and then pull off to stroke him through his orgasm.

But your lips are still wrapped around him. His ragged breath, the gentle buck of his hips up into your mouth... is it not indication enough that he's about to unravel? Kento has to lick his lips to try and save his dry mouth before he speaks, though it comes out as more of a broken moan. "Sweetheart, I'm... so close."

And you hum around his cock, send a vibration up his spine that has his eyes rolling back. You hollow out your cheeks and increase your pace, desperate for a taste.

It's too much, he's never felt so boneless. His vision is already going, he's right on the edge of the strongest orgasm he's had in his life when he gently tugs back on your hair. "Stop, stop."

Of course, you're off of him instantly, wiping your spit-sheened lips dry and watching Kento wide eyes. "Are you okay? Too much?"

Kento is breathless, his cresting orgasm quickly fading out of reach. "You didn't pull away. I was going to..."

"I know," you nod, a gentle hand on his knee something soothing. "What, you don't want to cum?"

He blinks. "No, I... not in your mouth. I respect you, and I don't want you to sacrifice your comfort for me."

And you can't help but grin at the serious look strewn across his face. You lean down and press a kiss to his knee, and then higher up on his thigh, and another just above the patch of hair that bases his leaky cock.

"Kento Nanami," you look up at him, and press a feather-light kiss to his tip. "If you don't cum in my mouth, I will cry. I wanna taste more of you."

Your words alone are enough to relight that fire licking at his insides. He watches you for a moment, tries to discern whether or not you're speaking only to please him, but ultimately nods.

When you take him back into your mouth, all the way down to the base, Kento swears he must've been a saint in his previous life to deserve such pleasure in this one. You trace the vein that runs under his length with your tongue, and then suck on his cock as if you're trying to milk him dry.

When he cums, it's with a loud and uncharacteristically whiney moan that makes you wonder how he sounds begging. You taste his cum on your tongue, feel as he shoots it into your mouth, his dick throbbing and balls tightening in the same regard.

He's already overstimulated, panicking a little at the new subtle pain of more, and although he thinks he likes it, you know it'll be too much for his first time. You pull off of him, careful to spill as little of his release as possible, and sit back on your heels.

And Kento is a mess, lips parted as he watches your pull into a greedy smile. He's eager to watch you spit him out, perhaps a testament to the fact he was inside of you. But you meet his eyes, let him sit on your tongue a moment longer, and then swallow.

He's hard all over again, he wonders how he'll ever lead a normal life again after a sight like that. His mouth is dry, cock still wet with your spit, heart beating near out of his chest.

Still, he manages to stop you when you move to get up and start on his aftercare. "Wait," his voice is small, he's nervous.

You raise your eyebrows, "yes, Ken?"

"I want to taste you, too."

hi @angxlsatvrn

[beanarie]

of course

in which the helicopter crashed with both our guys inside. inspired by this awesome post by @mooshkat

(tw: vomiting, heart issues, near death angst, biphobia mention)

~

Once the wave of agony subsides, and Tommy is reasonably sure he's done vomiting into the dirt, he blinks over at Evan appraisingly. "Is your arm broken or did your shoulder go out again?"

Evan grimaces and finishes tying off Tommy's splint. "Shoulder. And my hip's not feeling great. Cracked rib, maybe two. But of course you had to outdo me."

"Didn't do it on purpose." Tommy glares at the spot where his tibia poked through the skin, like he can intimidate the pain away. "Anyway you've got me on quantity."

"There's nothing else?"

"My head hurts," Tommy admits, "but there's not much we can do for that right now."

Evan leans in to compare his pupils. Tommy is very proud of himself for not flinching. "Dispatch had our location?" Evan asks, and instead of reminding him that he was there when they confirmed it, Tommy nods.

He knows he can't go to sleep, even if the leg would allow him. He finds a stick and starts tic tac toe. Evan chuckles and joins in.

He wins the next two games. Tommy blames his probable concussion.

Evan holds his bad arm tight around his midsection, but his eyes seem stormy for a different reason. "These people who hurt you in the past, what- what are their names?"

"Huh?" Tommy gives up on the game, scratching it out of the dirt. "You want a full list of legal names or just what I called them?"

"Was it Evan, for any of them?"

God, he's so transparent. Tommy laughs.

"Do you- do you judge everyone by who came before? Is that just what you do in a-all situations? One barista spilled coffee on you in 2011 and you pay for Starbucks with one of those grabby reacher things ever since?"

"Fuck's sake." Tommy doesn't even like Starbucks, but he doesn't say that.

Evan sort of shrugs before he remembers his shoulder with a wince. "It's not generally considered a sign of maturity. Ironic, I guess."

"Yeah, call me old. See where it gets you."

Evan brightens. "You're talking to me. I like my results so far."

There's something indefatigable about this man. Tommy can't help but surrender in the face of it, just a little. "How did you know I'd have to pinch hit for this fly along?"

"I didn't. I just hoped." His grin is just the slightest bit abashed. "Worst case scenario, get out of the engine for a day and I pump one of your coworkers for info."

"They have very little to pump," Tommy says. Evan and the codependent 118 are the aberration, and they're well aware of that. Tommy has great coworkers. They do their jobs and leave, with the exception of drinks once or twice a month. None of them gave him shit after the breakup. Few of them noticed. This is how most teams operate. Evan, however, looks surprised and a little sad. "What were you hoping to hear?"

"I don't know." Evan looks away, suddenly self conscious. "That you messed yourself up at least half as much as you did me."

Tommy rubs at his face. "I didn't mean to mess you up, Buck. Truly. We- It just ran its course. It doesn't reflect badly on you, or me. This just happens."

He looks upset at first, then calculating. "What if I hooked up with those Not-Evans?"

Tommy looks behind him, searching for something that makes sense. "What if you moved to the moon? I have no idea what you're getting at right now."

"Would I be experienced enough for you if I let them have a go? They were terrible for you, so it stands to reason they'll be terrible for me, too." He lifts a finger, his eyes lighting up in a way that turns Tommy's stomach. "Oh, I guess one or two of those might be women. They don't count. Some might be bi and married to women. Do they count as half? If I bag a threesome, is that like seventy-five percent? Do you give points for polyamory?"

Tommy feels about eighty years old, and not a fit eighty. "When did I say even one of those things?"

"The implications were pretty clear, Tommy. 'You're just young and excited. You don't know what you're feeling or how to interpret anything going on in front of you.'"

Tommy doesn't know what to say to that. It's not remotely what he meant, but he's never been good at communicating through panic.

"Did you love me?" Evan asks quietly. Tommy can't look him in the face. "It felt like you- like you did, but when you let me go like that, like chopping off the top bit of a carrot, it made me re- reevaluate everything I thought I knew about us."

The note of devastation in his voice almost tips him over, but ultimately what does it is the implication that Tommy made Evan lose faith in himself. He can't abide being responsible for that. "Of course I love you, Evan. How could I not?"

The tightness in his chest, that felt so much like raw emotion, intensifies, growing sharper. It's hard to breathe now, like sucking a milkshake through a coffee stirrer, and he realizes, something is very wrong. About as wrong as it could possibly be.

"Oh," he says. An attempt to inflate his lungs all the way makes his vision go sparkly at the edges.

"Tommy?"

Tommy drags his eyes up to meet Evan's. "S- Sorry, I-" I wouldn't have said any of those things if I knew. "Sorry. Evan." You deserve better than a fucking deathbed love confession.

A rough hand grasps his neck, slowing his descent to the ground. "No, hey. Hey hey hey. Tommy, we'll figure this out." Evan sniffles and tries to smile. His tears are falling everywhere. "You're okay. You're fine. Just keep- keep breathing."

The coffee stirrer is about a millimeter wide. Tommy can feel the muscles in his neck straining like he's deadlifting his own weight. Evan rips Tommy's shirt open and he swears floridly, miserably. They both know what this is; they've seen it in a hundred MVAs. Cardiac tamponade. When his heart gives out from the strain of all the blood surrounding it, chest compressions can be worse than useless. They could punch his ticket that much faster.

"Tommy," Evan says, pulling Tommy into his lap. The complaints from his splinted leg are distant, belonging to someone else entirely. Evan's voice is a ragged mess trying to piece itself together. His shoulder and ribs are probably killing him. "Don't run out again. You need to stay. Breathe."

Half a millimeter.

One quarter.

Tommy can't remember what comes after millimeter.

"That's it. I know it's hard, but keep trying. That's all I ask. Just try, okay? Look at me."

Micrometer? Is that it?

Evan's face is shadowed by the sun cresting over his shoulder. Tommy closes his eyes against the glare and is rewarded with a shake.

"Keep your eyes open. Stay with me. Just a little- little bit longer, please."

Fingers are running through his hair, lips are pressing against his forehead, and he thinks he can hear... sirens.

[catsukkii]

Clumsy love — katsuki bakugo.

In which…

katsuki is cooking in the kitchen, and you accidentally surprise him, he turned around to quick and hit you :( ..maybe it’s a good thing though.

Pairing; Katsuki Bakugo x Afab!reader

Content contains; fem!reader, angst/comfort (but mostly comfort), Prohero!katsuki, sweet kats, maybe a little ooc (sorry..), use of “babe, baby, doll, ‘kats’”, swearing, cheesy cheesy love stuff, mentions of blood, reader getting hit (on accident).

Word count; 1.4k

a/n; this feels rushed but I think it came out pretty cute — I also rewrote like ALL of this it went from 1.0k to 1.4k with my edits to the story..I’m scared to post this pls tell me y’all fw it 🙁 if smb already wrote this IM SORRY I don’t have an @ or anything, I cant remember if I took inspo from someone or was creative for once 😢

katsuki was stirring a pot over the stove, the boiling water and smell of the delicious stew he was cooking wafting through the air. Katsuki always loved to cook for you, no matter how tired he was. He’d cook a million times a day if it meant he got to see you light up at his thoughtfulness, not to mention he’s practically a 5 star chef.

He was pacing around the kitchen to grab various seasonings, vegtables, and other simple things. You wanted to show him some silly video off your phone, so you walked from your shared bedroom and approached him from behind, I suppose he didn’t hear you coming until you were right behind him, tapping him on the shoulder excitedly.

“kats, look-“ but your words got cut off with a mean ‘smack!’, the back of his hand making instant contact with your nose, your hands instantly reaching up to cup you’re now bruised nose as you squeak out an ‘ow ow ow!’

“holy shit!,” he exclaimed. “babe, I’m so sorry.” he drops everything, the spoon dropping into the pot, water splashing lightly with a ‘plosh’. He rushes over, grabbing your wrists lightly; a worried mixed with guilty look on his face.

“it’s- mmm fuck!” you grit out through bared teeth. “it’s fine, not ur fault kats—“ you hiss out, eyes squinting and ur brows furrowed from the sharp pain stinging in your nose. He was a pro-hero, and strong obviously, so when you startled him, he hit you with a lot of might. (all might reference.)

“no no—shit!- that’s not fine babe..lemme see cmon.” he stutters around, searching for the right words. you could tell by the glint in his eyes, and the way they softened, by his brows and the way they softly perked up and furrowed, by the tiny pout on his face, just how absolutely worried and awful he felt about himself right now. He slowly went to move your wrists from your face, careful to be gentle with you. You let him move your hands away from you’re poor injured nose slowly, tears stinging the corner of your eyes from the pure pain that spiked through you.

“aw fuck, y’r bleedin babe, cmon…” a unfamiliar gentle—? no…soft? yes but no—….worried? tone? yeah. worried. He knew you were okay, it wasn’t broken although it might feel as bad as one for a few minutes, nonetheless he hurt you.

his rough fingers wrapped around one of your wrists gently, guiding you to the bathroom, your other wrist still clutching your nose, trying to not let the gross metallic blood drip onto your nice clean floors. also to keep pressure on it, though it certainly wasn’t making it feel any better.

he sat you down gently on the lid of the toilet seat, both of your hands now cupping around your leaking nose, he settled on grabbing some toilet paper for a quick fix and wrapping it around his calloused hand. He rested on his knees to look up at you and get a better view to clean the blood. yet all you could think about was katsuki bakugo, was fucking kneeling on the ground for you. of course this didn’t even cross his mind in these conditions, all he could think about was the fact he did this, mistake or not, it was him. he tilted ur head back gently, his finger tips resting under your chin. He cleaned the blood spewing from your nose with softness and delicacy as if you were a porcelain doll. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so soft and gentle with you, of course he was a sweetheart to you, and he had his soft touchy moments, but it was still quite early in your relationship and katsuki was always a closed off person. Safe to say you knew he felt fucking awful.

“kats, ‘promise I’m okay, don’t feel bad, ‘ts not y’r fault.” You reassure him with a raspy tone considering ur head was tilted back, your vocal cords pressing closer to the front of your throat. you were still in pain and reassuring him. how could you be telling him it’s okay? reassuring him? he should be reassuring you.

“no no—fuck shhh, don’t say none of that shit..” he grumbles out, still focused on your nose, the bleeding was slowing down to a halt which made him grateful, he gently pulled the tissue away and threw it in the bin, he stood back up; his knees popping, (~~he’d kill you if you brought that up any other time~~.) hand gently caressing and looking at your nose, rough finger tips softly rubbing around and up and down your, now, less bloody nose.

when you look up at him with your big teary eyes and pouty lips, he can feel his heart shatter impossibly further. Once he deems your nose worthy enough to stop being catered to, he looks down at you with a big sad face and caresses the side of your head, cupping it with his big coarse palm, the weak look in his eyes just about broke your own heart into a million tiny pieces. you can’t help but melt into his touch, extending out a hand to carress his face aswell, cupping eachothers cheeks with the harsh cool lighting of the bathroom, the dried up blood still partially down your nose; the color of your skin turning a purpleish-blue around the area.

“kats…” you pout at his sad defeated look. “I’m okay, I promise. It wasn’t even your fault, I jus’ caught you off guard. don’t blame yourself baby..” you attempt to reassure him with a soft gentle tone. katsuki wasn’t used to this, someone being so soft around him, speaking to him in a sweet tone. He couldnt even begin to know what to do. The consistency of your thumb rubbing back and forth softly over his cheek, everything was to much.

“I know—I know but I hurt you baby. me, I did. I never wanted to do that, and I did. I can’t believe myself an-“ you could tell he was going to start a pointless ramble about himself, so u cut him off with a gentle shush, your delicate fingers draping over his lip in a playful manner, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t wanna hear him say such mean things about himself, especially when it truly isn’t anybody’s fault.

“shhh…katsuki.” he listened. as he always did to you. “don’t beat yourself up over this please..” to him your voice was like honey. sweet and smooth, just the right consistency. “things happen. I’m fine, the pains already getting better,” a small weight lifted off his shoulders as you reassured him the pain was already starting to fade.

“I love you.”

oh. you guys were dating but you’ve never went that far. he feels his heart pick up in speed, freezing, you were starting to worry you made him uncomfortable. why can’t he speak? why can he feel himself sweating? his hands are getting clammy, and he feels like the world is crashing around him.

“…I love you.”

he said it. you didn’t expect him to but he did. you didn’t make a big deal out of it, instead just smiling brightly up at him, your eyes crinkling as it always did, it was truly his favorite sight to see. He would never admit it, but he’s truly down bad for you.

“and I know you’ll still love me even if I’m all bloody and bruised.” you joke with him lightening the mood, he lets out a airy laugh pulling you into his chest gently, tilting your head so your cheek is smooshed against his chest as to be careful of your nose. maybe it’s a good thing katsuki hit you, maybe if he didn’t you wouldn’t of said I love you. maybe he wouldn’t of gotten vulnerable. The terms are silly of course, and it will be a funny story to tell down the line.

maybe katsuki does seriously love you.

“yeah. I will, doll.”

A/N guys I’m shaking before I post this

[candiiee]

ᴅᴇᴋᴜᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴇɴ: ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ ᴀᴜ

summary: Izuku crushes on a hero student from class 1-A!

warnings: pure fluff, some angst, the F word friend/fuck

an: jfkedkckfjfj, f/f: favourite flower

Izuku focused on fixing this hero gadget like his life depended on it. And it did. His love life, to be exact.

The gadget belonged to you, Y/N, part of the hero course. You always came by, and talked to him, and as the poor sap that he is, he formed a crush on you.

And his chance to impress you had come, finally. You had come by, but this time, with a gadget of yours, that helped make your quirk withstand more.

And you had asked him, of all people to fix it! Izuku worked on it, working hard. He had to do this right. Maybe then, once he impressed you, he would get the courage and confidence to ask you out.

Soon it was done. He shakily sent you a text, that it was ready. You responded a few minutes later, saying you would come by in the afternoon.

Just enough time for Izuku to look presentable so he could woo you.

.

You came into view, and Izuku’s heart into his throat. Then he saw the guy next to you. And almost immediately, bitter jealousy, followed by heartbreak.

You were smiling with the guy, laughing and talking. Was he your boyfriend? You came up to Izuku, greeting him.

“Hi Midoriya-kun!” You said, waving at him.

“I-I told you you could call me I-Izuku..” he mumbled shyly.

“Who’s your friend?” He said, his smile ever so fake, giving him a once over.

“Oh! This is Denki, one of my friends. Denki, this is Mido-Izuku,” you corrected, making his heart flutter. He loved how you said his name. “Izuku is part of the support course.” You turned to him, smiling.

So Denki was a friend. Or so you said.

He mustered a simple "Hi."

Denki grinned, "Hey!"

"Um, here's your support equipment.." Izuku said, passing you it.

You smile, "Thanks! You're such a good friend!"

Dear Lord in heaven, strike me now. Life isn't worth it. After she leaves, I'm going to go cry into my pillow.

You don't notice his broken expression. "You did such a good job! It feels much lighter now, you're so cool, Izuku."

He musters a smile, "Thanks." at least you maybe thought he was cool.

Denki cleared his throat, “Y/N has something to say to you.”

You flushed, “I do not!”

“Yeah, you do. I came here to make sure you don’t chicken out.”

Izuku blinked, “What is it?”

You paused, glancing to the side, then finally..started to walk away. “Absolutely nothing!”

Izuku was baffled. What did you want to say?

“Um..we’ll catch you later!” Denki said, patting Izuku’s shoulder, and he almost recoiled.

“By the way, Y/N likes chocolate, sleeping, and the colour, uh, green, if you will. And her favourite flowers are f/f! Good luck!” And he was off, leaving Izuku confused.

“You’re so fucking dense.”

Izuku jumped as Bakugo appeared behind him.

“Wha-?”

@candiiee 2024

prompt my @getstarried

Taglist: @dokidokidraft @mo0nforme

[lixiesfreckless]

Sugar & Spice | h. j.

A Sugar Across The Hall bonus scene

➸ synopsis: in reality, Joshua Hong can never say no to you.

➸ starring: joshua hong x reader

➸ word count: 1.9k words

➸ general content: boyfriend!joshua, kissing, slightly more than kissing lmao

➸ warnings: suggestive content, brief mention of alcohol

➸ rating: TV 16+

➸ author’s note: this can be read as a stand-alone BUT…happy one year anniversary to my magnum opus, sath. I love it to death, and I’m still not done writing for these characters, but for now, you get a much needed not-quite-hallmark-channel-approved scene. and before you get it twisted, this is and will always be dedicated to my beloved @ashonheavenscloud , but I’d like to give special thanks to @catboyieejeno for always encouraging me to stir the pot <3 love you guys a ton mwah

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! touch by keshi uhhhhhh somebody by keshi aahhhhhhh

Oh, he's really done it now.

Walking around some lively street corner a few blocks away from your shared apartment building, Joshua leads the two of you through downtown NYC at the height of spring. Strangers pass by your lovestruck duo without a second glance, not bothering to watch you look back at him with a borderline absurd amount of fondness in your irises. It's funny; usually Joshua wouldn't give spring a chance when it came to stating his favorite season, but since you waltzed into his life, he can confidently say that any of them are worthwhile—as long as you're with him. He squeezes your hand for what feels like the millionth time this evening, an action that makes you giggle happily to yourself.

Because you find it cute.

Oh, how you have no idea at all.

How tortuous this night has been for Joshua. How he regrets the day that he walked into that fateful department store, not looking for anything in particular but coming to a full stop in front of a specific mannequin. How he mentally patted himself on the back for remembering your size when you opened the gift bag a few hours earlier, eyes alight in excitement as you pulled out the present, letting the fabric unroll in your fingertips. How his face heated up as you opened your apartment door, and he quickly noted how the mannequin did the dress no justice.

Truthfully, if the dress looked as good on the mannequin as it did on you, he would have never taken it off the rack. He'd know better.

Because all through dinner he had to stop himself from staring at you and the slope of your neck, broken up by the thin straps of the halter dress and abandoned by your hair that was conveniently(to his demise) in an updo, to show off the open back. Luckily, you were so delighted by the Greek restaurant that you'd picked out that you hardly noticed his deepening flush, or the way he nearly downed his white wine in one go the second the server left your table.

And now, as you swing his hand and practically run up the stairs(because the elevator is broken, again), he finds himself almost dreading the night ahead. It's a Thursday, which means self care and Grey’s Anatomy, and while he would never turn down spending time with you, being that close to you for a prolonged period of time after the night he's had would be borderline masochistic.

Of course he contemplates all of this, but in reality, Joshua Hong can never say no to you.

So you unlock the door to your home, blabbering on about something that had happened at work and completely oblivious to the way that your boyfriend is eyeing you, torn between running towards you and running across the hall to get a grip on himself.

“Johnny went off at a customer yesterday,” you chuckled, crossing the room to set your purse down on the kitchen table. “They were being so rude, and over spilled milk too—throwing a fit over where we get our coffee beans imported from–”

You yelp in surprise, followed by a giggle at the feeling of Joshua’s hands encircling your waist from behind. His head settles in the space on your shoulder, but not before leaving a light kiss to the exposed skin of your neck.

“Hi,” you greet him, hands coming up to hold onto his forearms as you try to decipher the reason for this sudden display of affection.

“Hi,” he sighs, nose nudging against your pulse point, “Did I ever tell you how stunning you look in that dress?”

“No, I must have misheard you the first fifty times.”

He laughs at your little jab, willing his hands to stay still despite his growing desire to let them wander. You make the terrible decision to turn just enough so you can look at him, and it's this position that puts Joshua at his most vulnerable.

“Ready to wrap up season five?”

Looking up at him the way that you are paired with your slightly parted lips and flushed demeanor, Joshua finds himself at a loss for words, instinctively leaning into your face as his restraint wears thin. And your unfazed and accepting disposition makes it that much worse for him, his breath shaking as you flutter your eyes shut and part your lips.

The first touch of his lips is familiar, his kiss walking the line between mind-numbingly sweet and devastatingly tender as one of his hands comes up to lift your jaw. But instead of pulling away like he had originally intended, he presses harder against your mouth with a small sigh, unable to find any logical objection to the change of plans.

Your giggly demeanor fizzles out under the heat of his mouth, and your breath escapes you once his hand slides down to your neck, fingers languidly tracing the curve and playing with the straps that rest there. In contrast to his slow hands, his kisses grow faster and almost desperate, not wanting to separate for even a second as he tilts his head and slants his mouth against yours.

You stumble backwards slightly in pleasant surprise, and the table hits just above the hem of your skirt before the arm around your waist tightens, pulling you further into Joshua’s chest.

He takes this opportunity to lean forward slightly, clearing the table with a sweep of the arm that was holding you before hoisting you up onto it, hands firm on your thighs and then sliding down to your knees so he can part them.

“Josh,” you whisper breathlessly, clutching onto his shoulders as your eyes dazedly flicker between his lips and his eyes. His lower lip gets trapped between his teeth as his strength falters, gaze hardly able to meet yours as his fingers dance along the scalloped hem of your dress.

“Oh God, don't do that baby,” he nearly moans, and the pet name turns your brain waves into radio static. You've never heard him sound so helpless, as if his very fate would be decided by whatever you choose to say next. “You make it so hard to just sit and watch TV with you sometimes. Especially when you look like this.”

Knowing now that you have the upper hand, you decide to humor yourself and tease him a bit, leaning forward with a slight smirk on your lips. “Like what?”

His eyes drink you in from head to toe, taking their time to memorize all of your body lines in the flattering dress. If the opportunity were to present itself tonight, he doesn't know whether he would even want to take it off of you.

He leans in close, hoping that his desire translates well as it's mumbled against the skin of your neck.

“So damn good.”

His confession against your sensitive skin has you muffling a whine, gripping the edge of the table as your rationale evaporates under his searing lips, traveling higher and higher with each press.

You can't take his teasing much longer, and frankly, this side of him doesn't come out often enough for you to pass up an opportunity such as this. Meredith Grey will have to wait.

“You know…” you whisper, head tilting back as you feel his hand slipping behind your neck to support it, “they play reruns on Friday nights too.”

“Thank God, ‘cause you in this dress has been driving me crazy since you put it on,” he chuckles against your lips before catching them with his again, taking his time now to fully taste you, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip to elicit that delightful shiver that runs up your spine. You respond in earnest with your hands, carding through his brown locks and nearly melting when he doesn't suppress the groan that tumbles from his throat.

He kisses you like you’re air itself, hands sliding up your skirt and body pressing against yours, and once your nails slide down his scalp he softly groans into your mouth, moving onto kissing across your jawline. You repeat the action while winding your legs around Joshua’s waist, and he whines quietly into your neck, “Please…tell me to stop before I can’t.”

So subtly you almost miss it, he rolls his hips into yours, his desires clouding his judgment as a foreign sound jumps to the top of your throat. Immediately your attention is drawn to the heat you feel in your abdomen, and while you have grown accustomed to bearing it in silence, you’re finding it increasingly hard to ignore with him like this, hands all over you.

Wanting you.

He does it again, with a little more pressure this time, and your head falls back as a whimper just barely tumbles out of your lips. He shivers slightly, nearly overcome with the exertion of fighting every urge to take you on this table this instant.

To temporarily solve this problem, his lips find yours again, but feeling your muffled moans against him proves to be no more effective than trying to put out a forest fire with a garden hose.

As his hips softly grind into yours and your kisses get more and more frantic, your voice of reason pushes through the heavy cloud of lust at the forefront of your brain. “Wait, I've never–”

“We don't have to baby,” he cuts you off, wanting to make his intentions clear despite being unable to put an inch of space between the two of you, “and I don't want to just yet, but I…”

His hand that was previously bunched in your dress comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing gently against the redness of your cheek as he calms himself down with a deep breath.

And as he gazes at you with nothing but adoration in his brown irises, you can almost feel the words coming before he says them out loud.

“I…I am so in love with you,” he begins, fighting a chuckle born out of the absurd location of this sudden confession, “that sometimes, when I look at you, I can’t even think straight, and I…” he trails off, struggling to find the right words the longer he stares at you.

You, on the other hand, are practically beaming, bottom lip trapped by your teeth in an attempt to fight the smile you’d be flashing him, so as to not distract him any further. But you soon realize; with him seated between your legs, there’s not much you can do to help him out here.

So you switch to offense, legs squeezing him tight around his waist to pull his hips back to yours. “You what?”

His chocolate eyes darken to a coffee color in seconds, and the hand that was on your hip tightens again, keeping you firm in place on the table as you bat your eyelashes at him.

“Sometimes I wish I could just show you how much you drive me crazy.”

You don’t hesitate, lifting your chin to meet his lips in a deceptively chaste kiss as your hands fall onto the buttons on his shirt, playing with them just to rile him up further.

You shrug, feigning indifference. “Maybe you can.”

And at that, before you can even register what’s happening, he’s sliding an arm around your waist and under your knees, picking you up and heading towards your bedroom with a chuckle.

“Maybe I should.”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

click to read Sugar Across The Hall

[xaverie]

So. I love Evan Kelmp. And - imagine that I'm trying to choose my words carefully here.

I've been getting annoyed with him over the last three episodes. Because. I don't like how he tends to impose his beliefs. About what is correct and should happen. On the other characters. And our Black characters, specifically. Which. Was really put on clear display by his interaction with The Qohlye.

Evan seeks to be understood. But I don't think he has.. put in the required effort to reach that same level of understanding with his friends, or in general. Perhaps because they haven't said things in the exact way that he needs to hear them. But he behaves as though he does understand, even though I personally think. That there are things he's missing.

The treehouse conversation. Lots of people seem to get and relate to Evan's side of the convo, which is fantastic! But not as deep an understanding of Jammer's side. Evan decides that the correct thing is for Jammer to come out not hide his magical experiences. He jumps to a few conclusions about the reason - first that maybe Jammer was ashamed, then that he wasn't confident it would go well.

Instead of asking for clarification about what "They need me to be Whitney, you guys need me to be Jammer" means, he had made up his mind. Evan likes that Jammer is magic because that is the way in which Evan feels most connected to Jammer, thus everyone should admire Jammer for his magical abilities the way Evan does. And if Jammer hasn't allowed for that it's some kind of rebuke of Evan, of magic, and of Jammer's own self. Therefore the only correct thing is to merge these identities, but really just be the Jammer that Evan knows.

And I'm not saying Evan is wrong here. But in the same way he's missing the fact that Jammer did try to expose his magic in S2E1, but he couldn't prove it because magic is fucking broken. He's also missing how naturally we, as Black people, fall into code switching. Not just historically as a method of survival, but for practical reasons, privacy reasons, or just to keep our peace. To treat that unilaterally as the same thing as a kind of toxic compartmentalization, or hiding the true self (all of them are true selves), was. Kinda. Sad to me.

Not to take away from Jammer's triumphant success on Galamanis or the freedom represented by growing wings, because this is what he chose and I love that he made those choices. But it also represents potentially giving up fitting into his mundane life and dream career, something he had fought so so hard to keep thus far, and destroying 'Whitney'. This, more than anything before it, might be a fundamental shift in identity.

The same way it made me a little bit sad that Evan had assumed Jammer didn't mean "family" literally, when I immediately recognized that of course he did. There has never been a point in American history where part of being Black and being family hasn't meant - we may have to be apart, but as soon I'm ready (as soon as we're safe), I'm coming back for you, no matter what. It is THE very first promise, the foundational truth, or the only thread of hope that tied so many Black families together through all these generations.

So while everyone recognizes what a sweet moment it was, I also hope people feel the gravity and the history behind "I dream of making that space for you." And the weight of how many people must have said that before him. And what a profound act of love it's always been because sometimes that's all we have.

When Evan tells Sam, "I think you are the most powerful wizard," she instantly replies, "I hope not." Evan's response to this was essentially - who were are is true whether we want it to be or not. Which, to be fair, is both consistent with what he expressed to Jammer and with his own experience. What it leaves out is that our hopes are also who we are. And that maybe the same way he mistook her love toward him for general gregariousness, he is still misunderstanding her a little.

While he deferred to Sam on the matter of whether they should pursue the Qohlye or not, I think it was still Evan's (or Brennan's) idea that not only must all four of them be chosen, but that The Qohlye must be the best choice for Sam.

When the Qohlye says 'I think you're only here because you're convinced you need to be the same as your friends,' is he wrong? When he asks why she needs to be chosen by his magic specifically, she can't answer on her own. When Sam was given the choice between Power and Understanding she immediately chose understanding because of COURSE she did. (She instantly replies, "I hope not." I hope not. My heart breaks.)

And yet. Evan insists that she's given the power anyway. Because that's what fits neatly into what he already believes is correct and should happen. He believes in winning and rewards. He believes she deserves that power and that they need it. So even though I know he does this out of love, he doesn't even consider for a moment that he might be wrong.

Because Sam does get the power, she does thank him, and again not to diminish Sam's accomplishment - once again Evan gets what he wants and is proven right.

Except.

When The Qohlye doesn't give him the answers he wants in the exact form that he demands them. Evan decides that this is a crime for which The Qohlye deserves to die. The Qohlye, who helped return him to life. Who has a strong connection to his friends. (Who chose to be Black, which meant so much to Jammer that he cried.) Who asked each of his friends, in turn, if they thought The Qohlye meant what Evan thought he meant. Who demonstrated that he is not (and cannot be) obfuscating something that is apparently obvious to everyone else.

Evan refuses to accept that yes, The Qohlye can give him information, but cannot understand it for him. And Evan is not ready to Understand because Evan keeps choosing Power. Understanding takes work, even (or especially) when it doesn't come naturally to you. And answers will not always come in a clear and concise way. And this makes him so angry that he wants The Qohlye dead.

While Evan always presents his beliefs and demands as logical and rational, his reaction to The Qohlye's refusal to engage on his terms was simply entitled and immature.

[lady-pug]

The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Prologue

Summary: When your former friend and current Triwizard champion Aemond Targaryen sends you a note asking you to meet him after years having last spoken to each other, you are left wondering what he could possibly want. So when, to your surprise, he asks you to be his date to the Yule Ball, you make a decision that will either mend your broken friendship with the Slytherin boy or irreparably shatter it forever.

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 2,1k

Warnings: none

Notes: Hello hello, dearest readers! How have you all been? 

I offer you the prologue to a new story I am now incredibly excited to write. The idea for this came from the lovely @peachysunrize, whom I admire very much and love her works (I’ve actually been saving Tangerine Dreams for when I have enough free time to binge read it, ‘cause I know once I start I won’t be able to stop), after Mr. Ewan Mitchell was spotted serving cunt looks at the British GQ’s Men of The Year last night. It was supposed to be a one-shot howeeeeever I ended up getting a little carried away and dicided to go for a slightly longer story (so I’m so so sorry, Aemond actually wearing the infamous outfit at the Yule Ball won’t show up for a few chapters, please forgive me).

Just to explain a few details of this story: Hogwarts is in Westeros, located in the Crownlands near the border between these lands, the Reach, the Riverlands and the Stormlands. Volaena Academy of Magic is situated in Volantis, houses female students from Volantis, Pentos and Lys (equivalent to Beauxbatons) and Green Grass Institute is situated in Braavos, houses male students, mainly Dothraki, from Braavos, Pentos and Tyrosh (equivalent to Durmstrang)

I never thought I’d write a Hogwarts!AU but here we are! Although the HP/WW universe was a very important part of my childhood, I haven’t consumed any content related to it in a very long time (except for random memes on ig I often trade with a friend) because that woman (you know which one) pisses me the fuck off. But since no one will be profiting from me writing this (at least I don’t think so), and I still quite like the universe even if my love for it got diminished somewhat, I decided to give it a try. I won’t lie, I had fun!

I’d just like to warn that the next update for this series will take a little while, as I have quite a lot of work to get done (the semester is ending and Uni is kicking me in the butt once more, what’s new) and I’d like to finish writing a new chapter of Written Between the Lines, the other Aemond series I have on going, first.

Although Reader is a Tully I didn’t write her with a specific appearance in mind, and the same goes for Kermit Tully, so it is up to you to imagine what she looks like. I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it! And thank you so much @peachysunrize for coming up with the idea in the first place! If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

When you woke up on that rainy morning, you had expected it to be just another normal Tuesday, only barely over a week into the school year. The day had started out like any other: you had met with Oscar for breakfast at the Great Hall, being joined shortly after by Kermit and Davos, and avoided at all costs glancing in Cregan’s general direction. Then you had headed for your classes of the day, being paired with Doreah, a lyseni girl from Volaena, for your year-long Herbology project. 

While Doreah seemed nice, and you believed you would find a friend in her still, it was moments like this when you found yourself missing Helaena the most. You had promised to write to one another, of course, with you assuring you’d keep her updated in all the latest gossip around Hogwarts, yet it just wasn’t the same. You had become so used to seeing her at the farthest corner of the Ravenclaw table, waiting for you at supper, or sneaking out of the Hufflepuff common room together and into the kitchens to arrange snacks for your late night study sessions that you didn’t realize how much you’d miss this small things until she was actually gone, only just starting her career as a Magientomologist. Still, all you had to do was survive one more year until you could take your N.E.W.T.s and leave this place to search for a career of your own, and perhaps achieve your dream of sharing a flat with your best friend.

It was only after you left your Defense Against the Dark Arts class, having been squished between two quite large dothraki students from Green Grass, that you noticed something was different. A small piece of parchment was sticking out from inside your book, yet you didn’t remember putting it there; while you often used random papers as bookmarkers, it didn’t seem to be the case here, as the pages holding the parchment were ones you did not remember having ever read. As you turned the paper around you realized it was not just some paper, it was in fact a note, and you wondered how someone managed to place it inside your book, as you hadn’t left it unattended at all. But as you read the words, it would soon become clear to you.

Meet me at the library after dinner ~ A. T. 

The note carried a neat, flourished handwriting, written in expensive green ink. And yet, as your eyes skimmed over the words once more your heart started beating faster and faster, the flow of blood seemingly thundering on the inside of your eardrums. A. T., the person had signed. 

Aemond Targaryen.

What could he possibly want with you? Him, of all people? After all these years? Why did he want to speak to you now? It made sense then, how the note had appeared in your book without you realizing it; Aemond was quite good at Transfiguration, one of the top students even (but was there anything he wasn’t good at?), he excelled in it so for him to conjure a note inside your book was a piece of cake. But that didn’t explain what he wanted.

Sighing, you crumpled the paper in your hand, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pondered upon a decision you were most likely to regret.

There was only one way to find out.

You were quiet during supper, deep in thought as you poked at your food. Kermit and Davos both believed it had to do with the fact that Cregan and Alysanne were sitting right in front of you at the Gryffindor table, choosing then to sit on the bench across the table from you to try and block your view from the happy couple. But only Oscar knew the real reason for your silent demeanor.

Even though Kermit was your twin, you often felt closer to your younger brother, especially after you and Kermit got sorted to different houses on your first year, him being a Gryffindor through and through and you becoming the true embodiment of a Hufflepuff, and Oscar being selected for the same house as yours a year later. In truth, Oscar just understood you better and the other way around was also true, so you ended up becoming one another's confidants, telling each other everything and anything. So once you got back to the common room you had immediately spilled the beans about the mysterious note you had received.

He had begged you not to go. He just knew that whatever Aemond wanted couldn’t possibly be good. Not after everything. But you were curious, and although he would never admit to it, his curiosity on the back burner in face of his concern for you, so was he. So he agreed to your plan of simply listening to what Aemond had to say and leaving. 

Or that would have been the plan, had what Aemond asked not left you completely flabbergasted.

Arriving at the library, now almost completely void of students, save for one or two first year nerds, you noticed Aemond was already there, punctual as ever.

“You came.” he seemed surprised as he raised from his chair, the book he had been absentmindedly flipping through forgotten over the hardwood table.

You shrugged, not willing to let him see how affected you were by his presence.

“Let’s hear it then.” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to appear more confident than you felt.

“What?” 

“You called me here for a reason, right? What do you want?”

“Can I not just wish to see an old friend?” it was his turn to shrug.

You scoffed, gritting your teeth as you glanced away from him. Old friend my ass, you thought. You weren’t friends. Not anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time.

“Right.” he must have noticed something in your expression, for he dropped the innocent act “I need your help.”

What could he possibly need your help with?

“Be my date for the Yule Ball.”

What?

“What, why?” you were honestly dumbfounded by his suggestion, because that was what it was; it wasn’t a question, it was closer to a demand. And how dare he demand something from you?

“It is mandatory for the champions to dance at the Ball. And for that they need a partner.”

That’s right, Aemond had been selected as the champion to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament against Green Grass and Volaena. The professors had explained what that entailed, and how dangerous it could be, and for a fleeting moment, your heart twinged in worry over him, before it was snuffed out and replaced by the usual cold indifference you felt towards him. Furthermore, they had let all students know that a special ball would be held at Christmas, and that all three champions were required not only to attend but to dance as well.

“I know that.” you huffed, feeling a little offended “I mean why me?”

His stare turned quizzical, as if he couldn’t quite possibly understand what you were implying.

“Why not take your girlfriend?” you asked, confused “I mean, she may have graduated already, but professor Mellos said we could bring dates from outside the school.”

He glanced away from you, his expression turning dark for a split second, before returning his gaze to you.

“Alys and I broke up over summer.” he said with a nonchalance you suspected to be fake.

You wanted to ask, you were desperate to know why, but you had to remind yourself it was none of your business. His life was none of your business and it was better that way.

“Why not some other girl then? They seem to line up for your attention nowadays. Floris has always had a thing for you.”

Aemond was already considered a pretty boy even for normal standards, always having one admirer or another. It lessened a bit after he started dating Alys, a sixth year student, in his fourth year in school, but you knew for a fact people still pinned after him in silence. But after he was named Hogwarts’ triwizard champion, a lot of girls and even some guys flocked around him, vying for his undivided attention. You knew most of them would die for a chance to be his date at the Ball, to be his even if only for one night.

“It would give them the false hope that something more could happen when it won’t.” he tipped his chin, staring at you from under his lashes, and something in the way he was looking at you was deeply unsettling “At least we know where we stand with one another.”

Ouch.

“Why would I ever agree to go with you?”

“Well you certainly aren’t going with Stark, that’s for sure.” the corner of his lip twitch in the tiniest of smirks.

A pang of shame assaulted your heart, heat spreading in your chest and settling in your cheeks.

“How do you know about that?” your voice faltered, small and almost afraid. 

His face fell, then, as if he didn’t expect this reaction from you.

“Everyone knows about it.” 

Humiliation burned in your chest, the sting of tears steadily brimming in your eyes forcing you to glance away from him to stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Great, now the whole school (and perhaps even the other two guest schools) knew how your boyfriend of four, almost five years had dumped you and practically immediately after started dating your cooler, prettier, hotter cousin. He couldn’t even be bothered to show his face, he had broken up with you through a letter, a majestic white owl bringing the news one summer morning.           

“No.” you sniffled, daring yourself not to cry, and turning away from him, ready to leave and forget this conversation ever happened.

“Wait!” he grabbed your arm, halting your movements. His face was soft when you glanced back at him, something akin to guilt clouding his own features “Please. Just- please.”

That was new. For as long as you had known him, you knew one thing was certain: Aemond Targaryen didn’t beg. For him to stoop this low, at least for his standards, must mean he was indeed desperate.

“What’s in it for me?” you asked in turn.

He pondered for a moment, a surprised look on his face, as if he didn’t expect to get this far into the conversation.

“You’ll get to make Stark jealous?” he offered, and you chuckled mirthlessly in response.

“I don’t want to make him jealous.” and you couldn’t even if you tried, not in comparison to Alysanne of all people “I just want to move on from him.”

“Then you’ll get to show him just that. That you have moved on from him and are already seeing new people.”

His reasoning made sense and you were intrigued, sure, especially considering you weren’t totally over Cregan just yet. But it definitely wasn’t worth the hassle.

“And I’ll help you study for your History of Magic N.E.W.T!” he was quick to add.

Now that was a really tempting offer. History of Magic was one of the subjects you struggled with the most, having a really hard time memorizing all the dates and events, ever since your very first year. And you knew he was well versed in history; he studied the subject even when not required, just for fun. To have someone like him help you study would definitely help you not fail the test.

“Okay.” you sighed out between, biting your tongue “I’ll be your date to the Yule Ball.”

His face lit up then, almost bouncing in his heels from excitement, before feigning indifference.

“Good.” he nodded to himself “We’ll have to spend more time together until then.”

“I didn’t agree to that!” you squealed, the thought of spending any more time than necessary with him making you uneasy.

“We need to be convincing. Otherwise Stark will see right through it.”

He was right. Of course he was right.

“Fine then. When do we start?”

He smiled brightly then, and for a moment you saw that young boy he once was, the one who held your hand on the first train ride to school all those years ago.

“I’ll find you for breakfast tomorrow then and we can go to Potions together. After lunch we can start revising History. How does that sound?”

It could be worse.

“Alright by me, I guess.” 

Aemond grinned cheekily, and you knew then that you were screwed. 

“It’s a date then.” he sauntered away, but not before throwing you a quick wink to match his smirk.

Oscar was going to kill you.

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 3— Fool.

a/n: welcome back to the Be My Baby series! Sorry y'all, I left with some with friends and it went on waaaaay longer than I thought it would lol. I'm gonna break this chapter up into 2 parts so I can get it posted tonight. So an extra chapter will be added!! Chapter 4 will just be the part 2 of this one, and after that it'll be back on schedule. Oh and don't worry— chapter 4 will be out tomorrow btw!! that's where the big boy angst comes on. so y'all are safe until then. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this again, lol. I will later & edit any details that need touching up. Again sorry this is late, but I hope getting part two and the Keira fic tomorrow will make up for it haha.)

content: sick!Reader, caretaker!Leah, straight up no smut (CRAZY I KNOOOOOW), mostly fluff, and some angst.

warnings: talks of not hydrating & eating properly, the flu, A&E/ER, confusion caused by sickness

synopsis: You wake up sick and you call the only person you can think of for help.

word count: 3.0k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The sound of your alarm doesn’t jolt you awake this morning. You’re already lying wide awake before it rolls around this time. You’d woken up early and your mind drifted to Leah, your whole situation together, barca, and the inevitable moment when they all come crashing together like a high speed train accident. Is it severely toxic and self destructive? Oh for sure…but who’s gonna stop you?

You stretch out your limbs as you set up in bed, turning off your alarm as you settle back into your own skin. There’s a rolling storm of anxiety filling your gut, and as your feet touch the ground it flies up to your throat. You run to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time, emptying out your stomach contents. Which at the moment is just your bile. The sweating must’ve started when you were in bed; because you quickly notice the dampness of your shirt from the temperature drop in the bathroom. The cold tiles seep through Leah’s sweats and chill your body down. You shiver after a few minutes, staying seated on the floor as you take a moment to catch your breath.

You make quick work of going to grab your phone and sending your boss a quick message. As soon as it's sent you make your way to the shower. It's only when you bend down to take your pants off that you realize how sick you truly are. Your vision goes blurry and your head starts floating in and out of dizziness. You slowly lower your body, your hands making contact with the floor as you set yourself down. It's then that the headache starts— like your brain is pounding against your forehead on repeat. It's sharp and never ending, leaving you to crumble down into tears.

You don't have a car, and even if you did— you are in no state to operate a vehicle right now, and you definitely don't feel confident enough to order a taxi like this. So you are left with one option. One you know you're gonna regret when you're not sick and delusional, but it's the one thing your broken mind can think of…You call Leah. You crawl across the tiled floor and get your phone off the counter, dialing her number as you pray she picks up. And of course she does, because by the third ring her voice is greeting you through the speakers. "I knew you couldn't resist me, darling. I've just been wait—"

"Le…" you cut her off with a sob of her nickname. Your head is painfully throbbing now, and your mouth is so dry your throat is scratchy. She can tell just from the small amount of your voice she hears.

"y/n, hey— what's wrong? I'm on my way, alright? I'll be there soon, just stay on the phone with me," Leah's moving before the first word even leaves her mouth. She's leaving her breakfast on the table as she slips mismatching shoes on her feet. Running out of her flat with nothing but her keys and her phone in her hands.

"Something's wrong, Le. I'm sick and I-I..I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call," your voice breaks at the end. It's like a knife plunging into Leah's heart as she hears it; the absolute brokenness of your words. She knows there's a deeper meaning behind your them, but she won't push it. Leah knows any of the girls would come to help you in a heartbeat, so what's got you believing otherwise? Or maybe the better question is, who has you believing otherwise? She'll investigate that later.

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're alright, love. Take a deep breath for me, okay? I'll be there before you know it, and we'll get you to the doctor," Leah's voice would normally calm you down, but your brain is still running a million miles per minute…and it's only making you feel worse. It's like you can't focus on a singular thought, and the confusion only fuels your distress. Leah presses down on the gas pedal when she doesn't get a response from you. She can only hear your cries filling up the empty space of her car. She gets to your building in record time, and only then does she realize she didn't bring her wallet.

"God dammit," she chastises herself under her breath, trying to not let you hear her frustration as she searches for a on-street parking spot. She just had to forget you live in a fancy ass building with paid parking, today of all days. "I'm parking now, love. I'll be up in a few minutes." Thankfully she gets one across the street, rummaging through her center console for some change coins. She puts way more than needed in the parking meter, but that's not her main priority right now. "I need you tell me if the door's unlocked, okay? I know you don't feel well, but can you unlock it if it is?"

You close your eyes as you take a deep breath, gathering all your mental strength to answer her. "N-No. There's a key under t-the welcome mat though…I don't think I can walk by myself. I-I'm so sorry, Leah," you can't stop the embarrassment from filling your body. You hate having to ask people for help— especially when you need it the most. It makes you feel weak, helpless, and like a burden. It's a deep seated insecurity you can't seem to shake, but it's not like you've really ever tried to correct it. We all know Leah's stubborn, but you? You can be even worse than her. It's not like you mean to be, but you're just…broken. In more ways than even you would like to admit.

Leah sees right through it though— she always has. She is the one person in your life that sees you for who you are. Not the persona you put up for the rest of the world. You two may of only spent a short time together that year ago, but oh what an impact it made. Spending every waking second with a person for weeks on end does something to a person. You either ending up hating each other, falling in love, or whatever the fuck you two got going on.

"You don't need to be sorry, y/n. You definitely need a better hiding spot for your spare though, that's just bloody awful! You're asking for a break in!" Leah feels herself get a little frustrated as she retrieves your key. Her voice picking up into a scolding tone as she jiggles with your doorknob. You whimper out as you move the phone from your ear, the slight rise in her voice making your head hurt more. "Too loud," you say as she walks into your home. She makes sure to shut the door lightly, before smacking herself in the forehead for raising her voice with you. "I'm sorry, love. I just worry about you. Now which room are you in?"

"My bathroom," your voice sounds so small now. Like a child getting in trouble.

"I'm on my way to you now, okay?" Leah says as she climbs the stairs. Her eyes flit over your walls and she notices the lack of pictures. You have bare hallways and they look so, so lonely. She walks into your bedroom and she sees the void of no decor or really any of your things at all. It makes her sad, but mostly it leaves her wanting to ask more questions. Questions she knows she can't ask right now, but will get the answers to someway.

Nothing could have prepared Leah for what she sees behind the wooden door of your bathroom. You're clad in a mist of sweat, all the color drained from your face, and you're shaking like a leaf. It isn't until she's running up to you and falling to her knees that she sees the extent of your state. Your pants are still sitting halfway down your thighs, and Leah quickly moves to redress you. She makes sure not to look at you inappropriately, only doing what's needed to get you comfortable and less exposed. She knows how vulnerable you are right now, and she's doing everything she can to make sure you're okay. She sheds her Arsenal hoodie off, sliding it over your head as she encourages you to push your arms through.

“Hey love, let’s get you stood up– that’s it.” She helps you get to your feet, letting you lean all your body weight onto her. Leah guides you back towards your bed, sitting you on the edge as she goes to grab a pair of your shoes. It doesn't take her long before she's rejoining you and sliding some slip-ons over your feet. she pats your legs when she's down, looking up to see your disheveled appearance. "You ready to go?"

"Mhm," you nod your head along. Talking is only making your headache worse, so you've opted for noises instead.

With that, Leah is helping you back up. But before you can rest your weight back onto her side, she's picking you up bridal style. Your arms instinctively go to wrap around her neck, burying your face in the warmth of her embrace. You don't have the energy to argue with her, and honestly it's a relief to not have to walk right now. She carries you like you weigh nothing, shutting and locking your door like she isn't holding an entire human being. If you didn't feel like death you'd be obsessing over how hot she is, but right now you're just thankful.

You must've fallen asleep, because the next thing you know you're waking up in a A&E bed. You blink a few times to adjust to the lights above you, small groans slipping out as you try to stretch the cramped feeling out of your limbs. Then you hear her softly speaking on the phone across the room, and you go back to lying still. You close your eyes as you focus on trying to hear her conversation. "I know I should've called first, but you didn't see her. She couldn't even stand on her own, and she fell asleep in my arms before we even made it to her building elevator! She's in bad shape, and I'm not just gonna leave her here all alone in a country she doesn't fucking know. I'm the Captain and it's my responsibility to look after everyone— I don't fucking care that she's not a player! She's on our team, our crew, and she deserves our support. Call me back when you get your head out of your ass," and with that she hangs up.

You try and force yourself to just back to sleep and forget everything you've heard, but of course that's not how things work out. Your stomach starts turning again, complicating feelings swirling around with the uneasiness. The tears come falling down your cheeks before your eyes even open, your chest starting to tighten up as the sobs claw at your lungs to get out. It feels like you can't breathe, and honestly maybe you aren't. Not as you see flashbacks of Barca passing through your memory, a wave of dread blanketing over your body.

"What hurts, love? Do I need to get the nurse?" Leah's by your side the second she notices, a hand out grasping your forearm. Her fingers dance little patterns into your skin, and it actually starts to ground you. "Come on, take deep breaths with me again, okay?"

You nod your head, and then she's holding both your hands. You follow her lead as she sucks in a slow breath and holds it, before exhaling just as slow. She repeats the process with you until you're calmed all the way down. It doesn't take too long, but honestly Leah isn't going to leave you anytime soon anyway. "Nothing hurts," you say it so softly she barely hears it. Your eyes stay locked down onto the bed sheets below you, never making any eye contact with her.

"Then why were you crying, y/n?"

"Because I heard you on the phone…and I don't know. I guess I freaked out, and went spiraling into a self hate hole for a second. I'm okay, really."

"oh bloody hell! I'm so sorry you heard that, darling. I should've went into the hall or something—"

"It's okay, Le. I'm just sensitive, and really really delulu from whatever sickness I currently have…plus it was nice to hear you stick up for me, Captain."

"The mystery sickness is indeed just a bad case of the flu…but uhm, the doctor said it was made worse from you being dehydrated and probably not eating enough from the looks of your blood work. I'm not gonna judge you or yell at you. But I am taking you home with me when they discharge you. I'm your official caregiver until you're well enough to take after yourself again," Leah doesn't let go of your hand as she says it. She tries to connect your gazes, but you don't allow it. Actively avoiding her eyes as you feel them burrowing holes into your skull.

You wish you could argue with her and tell her she's wrong…but you can't. You've been skipping out on meals ever since you moved here. It's not been on purpose, you just haven't been able to eat. It's like your body hates the idea of eating, always growing nauseous after every few bites. So you've been drinking some meal replacements…not enough apparently. "Okay."

"…Okay? Really? That was a whole lot easier than I thought it would be," Leah is staring at you with her biggest look of, 'be so for real, bitch' written across her face. But you just shrug as you sink back into the uncomfortable mattress underneath you. You're so mentally and physically wore out right now, there's just no fight left inside you. Right as you're about to re-close your eyes, the doctor finally comes back in. After getting the run down from him, he lets you know that you can be discharged and to pick up your antibiotics before going home. Leah helps you redress again, and this time it has you giggling at the way she makes her eyes go anywhere but at your naked body.

"Hold on…how'd you get the doctor to tell you what was wrong with me before I even woke up? Aren't there some rules against that?"

"…I might have told everyone that you're my fiancé," Leah smiles at you nervously.

"Fuck you, Williamson! Take yourself on that date Thursday!"

"Oh, so you're finally agreeing that it's a date?" Leah smirks at you, only hearing the parts of what she wants to hear.

"Well, I guess we'll never know, now will we?"

She rolls her eyes at you for that, holding her hand out for you to take. And you do, still leaning against her some to walk. She helps you to the car, and once you're both secure she's driving you to your new home for the next few days…or weeks. God you hope only days. It feels weird to be back inside a house with another person, and it's extra fucking weird that it's Leah. You know this stay is when you have to put down some boundaries with her. To stop whatever there is between the two of you. It makes the previous pit in your stomach increase by double, because deep down you know you care about her...you're just lying to yourself about it. You can push every feeling down your throat, but they will all come spilling out at some point. That's what you've learned to be true over the years, but will you accept that as truth? Hell no! At least not anytime soon. Your worst problem is that you always get in your own way.

When she finally gets you inside, Leah starts cooking and letting her mind wonder to think of you. More importantly to the phone call you overheard in the A&E. She'd been talking with her manager, and completely snapped on him. He'd said something about how Leah 'follows you around like a lost puppy' and well…. it hurt her fucking feelings. Of course she isn't doing all of this just because she's one sided sickly in love with you…right? Sure she thinks of you literally every second of the day, and she's been day dreaming of you for the past year, but that's all totally normal...RIGHT?

Leah doesn't get to spiral into her romanic crisis for too long, because before she knows it the timers going off. She drains the gnocchi before putting it in a bowel for you, making her way back to the living room where she left you. She laughs at the sight that greets her— you snuggled up asleep in her Arsenal hoodie she'd given you when she first saw you. Leah just sets the gnocchi aside on the coffee table, opting to cuddle you instead of waking you up. She pulls you onto her body, your face resting on her chest as she tries to adjusts you without waking you up.

She finds herself running her fingers through your hair, and before long they're running softy across the features of your face. Leah lets a deep sigh come out of her chest. She truly feels like a fucking fool. Leah doesn't chase girls— they chase her. So for the first time in this game, she is the one crying. She's clinging onto any crumb of attention you'll give her, and she'll keep doing it for as long as it takes. Leah has you sleeping against her chest once again, and it's nothing like she's day dreamed of. You two aren't confessing your feelings, running around town making memories, or god forbid actually dating…but she'll keep feeling like a fool and waiting on you. She'll keep searching for your love until she finds it, because she knows she's felt flashes of it. She knows that carefree, wild, truly happy girl from Ibiza is still inside of you somewhere. Leah doesn't know what took that extra bright sparkle out of your eyes, but she is determined to see it light up your face back up.

[mythalism]

another thing i love, but this one is controversial, is the portrayal of the inquisitor. NOT their tiny insignificant role in the game until the 11th hour while they send us weirdly formal and deeply out of character letters but the actual dialogue from my lavellan and the way she carries herself in the scenes we do see of her (though there should have been more, without a doubt) is actually my favorite part of the game probably. i know this is maybe a very solavellan inquisitor exclusive experience and also just dumb luck that the way they wrote her in this game fits my lavellan but holy shit im so obsessed with it. its not even how i imagined how she would behave but its even better? the way they managed to convey her growth and maturity after 10 years literally floored me, and yet she still maintains this wistfulness that feels so incredibly right. the way she speaks with such confidence and conviction in her conversation with rook about her relationship with solas and then suddenly dissolves into pauses and stutters and “i don’t know”s when confronted with the possibility that there might actually be a future for them is INSANE. “or maybe I’m the prideful one, imagining his broken heart so that I don’t have to face my folly. that i loved someone who made such grave mistakes. that I might love him still” IS THE BEST LINE IN THE ENTIRE GAME. TO ME. IM SO SERIOUS. i watched that scene over and over and over and over again. the way she sits rook down and demands they tell her what solas did at the ritual with such authority but also the faintest glimmer of naive, foolish hope in her eyes that he might be salvageable is so sickening, and the way she turns it around on rook in the end to playfully ask about their love life. it’s like watching The Inquisitor switch turn off mid conversation. and there she is!!! that’s her!!!! of course she would ask rook about their lover of course she would she fell in love during the end of the world too!!! the several knowing looks shared between her and morrigan (“speaking from the heart, inquisitor?”) that imply a much deeper friendship has blossomed since we last saw them. her one little line with dorian - “something like that”. even the way she quietly sneaks into the throne room at the end, completely alone, as if she snuck away from the rest holed up below the archons palace. “even if those you have wronged asked you to stop?” the pained look on her face. the way she gets on her knees to look him in the eye. the way she speaks in elvhen, the implication that she has been studying it over the past 10 years. the fact that she does not touch him until after he takes her hands. literally every second of it is so good. it feels so so so right to me. it’s honestly as if, because my inquisitor has grown older than me by almost a decade, it was hard for me to imagine what she’d be like in her mid-30s, after so many hard years of grief and loneliness and the burdens of leadership. and the writers were just like “it’s okay, here, this is what she would be like after all this time”, AND THEY WERE RIGHT!? and it’s so subtle but it’s literally spot-on. it feels like the most natural progression of who she was. a little bit more sad, a bit more quiet, her words are more measured, no more snarky one liners (and maybe that’s why I love it so much- it’s such a refreshing change from listening to rook talk like they’re on Disney channel), there is a weight to her words and her presence that conveys her age and experience so clearly to me. veilguard made me love my inquisitor so much more. it has made me understand her so much more. it has clarified who she was in inquisition in the context of who she becomes later. im so obsessed with it im SO OBSESSED WITH HER!!!

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Poly!plastics x Skater!reader

While skating reader ended up breaking their wrist doing some dumbass trick and comes to school with a cast, and the plastics are integrating reader (mostly Regina and Gretchen), mf just says “oh yea i broke my wrist doing a trick” like it’s the calmest thing in the world 💀

What The Fuck

|| poly!plastics x nonbinary!skater!reader

|| Warnings; injured reader, swearing, Regina pissed at reader, short drabble

|| Summary; when reader shows up to school with an injury, the girls are concerned. More so than reader, it seems.

Requests closed!

Started; November 19th

Finished; November 19th

~~~

It happened so fast you barely had time to react. You were out skating. Just rolling down the street on your skateboard, popping tricks and testing out various things. As your board landed, you caught a pebble the wrong way and it suddenly stopped. Causing you to go flying forwards. Of course, you just had to land right on your wrist. Pain immediately shot through your body. An almost whimper like sound escaping your lips. Fuck. That's definitely broken.

The following day, you walked into school with a cast around your wrist. People glanced at you and gave you strange looks. Wondering what could have happened to you. They knew who you were. How couldn't they? You were part of the school's infamous poly group with the plastics. Everyone knew you. It was hard not to.

You made your way to your locker, struggling a bit with your lock as you could only use one hand. Once it was opened, you set your bag inside and got out whatever books you needed. Just as the plastics walked over to you. Gretchen was the first one you heard.

"Oh my God!!" Gretchen's voice rang out throughout the hall, startling Karen who looked at her. Confusion and concern on her face," Y/N, what happened to your wrist?!" She ran over to inspect you. Quickly followed by Regina and Karen.

"Seriously, what dumbass stunt did you pull this time?" Regina asked, eyes looking over your cast before landing on you. You glanced at it, then at them.

"Oh. Yeah. I broke my wrist doing a trick," you replied with a shrug. A shrug. You just... shrugged it off? Gretchen was gonna lose it but Regina got it first.

"I'm sorry, what the fuck?" She stared at you. Mixes of concern and anger at your chillness about it in her eyes. You shrugged again. Karen seemed to have finally caught up with what was happening, because she suddenly gasped and looked at your cast.

"Can I colour it?!" Karen beamed, you couldn't help but laugh and dug in your locker for your markers.

"Sure, baby." Once you got them, you handed them to her and the three of you made your way to class. Not before you closed up your locker though, obviously. Karen drew as you walked, she was actually a very good artist. You couldn't help but watch. Regina was still annoyed at you, sending you glares and giving silent treatment. How were you so calm about a broken wrist? Why didn't you tell them? She was mostly upset you never bothered to say anything last night and just let them find out. Cause what the fuck.

Gretchen noticed you carrying your books and immediately took them from you," let me get these. You're hurt."

"I'm hurt but not helpless, Gretchen." You sighed, but the determination and seriousness in her eyes kept you from arguing further. She carried your books, Karen decorated your cast and Regina seethed in silence. However she would yell at you more later, when they had the time. You were saved by the bell.

[ak319]

Lovesick Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

PART VII

➺ Part VI

"All rise."

The bailiff’s voice echoed through the small courtroom, which was modest and bathed in morning light. The room fell into a hush, and dust motes drifted in the sunlight streaming through wooden shutters as if reflecting the swirling thoughts that occupied every mind in the room.

Your gaze swept the space, pausing briefly on the witnesses seated to one side. Their unease was palpable, their shoulders stiff, eyes darting toward you.

It was then your eyes settled on him.

Rahim Jafari.

"You, you won't--" His voice cracked as he whimpered, clasping his trembling hands and avoiding your gaze.

"Promise me...you won't punish Uncle for...a-anything."

"Uncle? Are you talking about Habib or Samir?"

"H-Habib..."

"Alright, I promise. But, please, Rahim, you need to tell me where your parents are. It’s crucial we know. No injustice will be done to anyone, I give you my word."

And then he began talking...

You wished, God, how you wished, it was all a dream. A cruel nightmare that you would wake from. But every word from him pulled you deeper into a reality you could barely comprehend.

"I beg you! He--he wouldn’t! I don’t even know myself! But he would never do something like this! It--it m-ust have been the magic, right?! Maybe my father was doing it for days--and—and I didn’t know--an-d that’s what made him kill them!"

He broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. You didn’t hesitate, wrapping him in your arms as his small body trembled against you.

"Let it out, kid...let it out."

You held him tight, feeling the weight of his pain, and the gravity of the decision ahead.

That’s when you made the promise to yourself. Whatever course of action you would take, it would be the most important decision of your life.

"Begin the trial. Case number 1050, the victims, Basim Jafari and his wife, Zara Jafari." The court clerk's voice echoed through the room, his words sharp, the weight of them sinking in.

You already knew the details. You’d seen them firsthand.

Bodies found in a shallow grave at 11:30 am yesterday, Friday. Rahim had led you and your team to the site, where the earth had been disturbed, the soil fresh, the air still thick with the scent of death.

Stab wounds. Everywhere.

Blood--everywhere.

Nothing about the scene screamed that Habib—your Habib, the boy who would flinch at the mere mention of violence—could have committed such an act. The boy you had come to care for deeply, the one whose hands you’d trusted with your own heart.

But the evidence didn’t lie.

It took a while... to wrap your head around it all. Fuck. You weren’t sure if you ever would.

But here you were.

Monday. As the presiding judge of this case.

Biased, you knew. This was the first time you’d allowed personal feelings to interfere with your role. ‘The people don’t know. Dad’s disappointed, but I’ll face him later.’ Seeing Rahim in the state he was in, seeing his broken words still echoing in your mind, your own principles felt like nothing now. What were they worth when it came to protecting a boy so lost? Right now, that was all that mattered.

And then... your eyes went to the curtains, a faint rustle as they caught the soft morning breeze. The small divider behind where he...was made to sit behind. Hidden and protected for his own sanity.

Habib Jafari.

Your boots thudded against the ground as you entered his room, the familiar scent of him lingering in the space. You flicked on the lights, watching them hum to life.

'Ma'am, don't go to meet him alone.'

You ignored Odai's warning, the weight of his concern heavy on your mind, but you trusted your instincts. I would be the last person he harms. You could almost hear your own voice echoing in the silence. And besides... I’ve handled worse than this.

"(Y/N)... you are back..."

Habib slowly rose from the bed, his movements tentative but eager. Without thinking, you opened your arms, and he came to you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. You held him tightly, the pulse of his heartbeat steady beneath your palm.

But as soon as he pulled away, you heard the soft hum of fairy lights. The delicate glow outside the window caught your attention—suspended in the garden, like stars in the dimming twilight. The same lights you had arranged for the small wedding you had planned, casting their gentle glow across the night.

Habib’s gaze followed the lights, blinking slowly, as if their warmth had made him forget for a moment where he was. A shaky sigh escaped his lips. His eyes shifted back to you, and in them, there was a mixture of happiness...and weariness as if he couldn't believe this was real.

Neither could you.

"I—I always... loved when... the houses were decorated for... weddings..." His voice trembled as he spoke, his words heavy with emotion. "I thought I would never see the day... that it would be for my wedding, (Y/N)..."

You bit your lip, fighting back your own tears. The weight of it all—his pain, the reality of what was happening—was too much. Gently, you guided him to the bed and sat beside him. Both of you needed a moment. It was all too much to process.

You turned to him, your hand reaching up to caress his face, and he instinctively leaned into your touch.

"Habib..." you began softly, but before you could finish, his eyes snapped open, wide with fear.

"Golrez."

Your heart tightened at the name. A frown tugged at your forehead in confusion. "You call me Golrez, (Y/N)... why aren’t you calling me that anymore?" His voice was frantic, desperate, as his eyes searched yours for something—anything—to anchor him.

His breathing quickened, and a look of horror spread across his face. "They-they cursed you! TH-EY CURSED YOU LIKE THEY WERE DOING TO ME! You’ve changed! You’ve changed, (Y/N)! You don’t look at me the same anymore!"

The words pierced through you like a knife. His screams of agony seemed to shake the room, his voice cracking under the pressure of his own torment. You reached out instinctively to console him, but before you could touch him, he grabbed your arms, his grip tight and shaking.

"THEY... they would kill me, (Y/N)! And then you... you would find someone else, right? Right?" His voice was pleading now, his eyes wild with fear.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but his anguish was so raw, so consuming. "Habib," you said, your voice firm but gentle. "Stop. No one is going to kill you. No one is going to take you from me. Not them. Not anyone."

His frantic eyes searched yours, looking for some kind of reassurance, some kind of proof that what he feared wasn’t true. But the fear was so deep, so ingrained in him, that your words barely seemed to make a dent.

"Please," he whispered, his voice small now. " You... you’d leave me for someone else, wouldn’t you? I’m not the same anymore. You don’t love me like you did."

You shook your head, moving closer to him, your hand cupping his cheek. "No, Habib. You’re still you. I see you, the man I’ve always loved. You’re not a curse. You’re not what you think you are. You’re not a...monster. Never were."

For a moment, his eyes softened, uncertainty flickering in their depths. But he still seemed so lost, so afraid of losing you. You pulled him into your arms, holding him close, your fingers threading through his hair, as you whispered over and over that you weren’t going anywhere.

"Golrez," he murmured again, his voice barely a whisper, as though speaking the name was the only thing that could keep him tethered to reality.

You held him tighter, knowing that for now, your words were the only thing you could offer him. You couldn’t fix this, not yet, but you could be there for him.

"C'mon, get up we have to go somewhere."

"W-where?"

"Um..to the market. Let's get your wedding attire."

"NO! NO! I am not leaving this room! THEY ARE STILL OUT THERE! THAT- HE- that djinn! That djinn will possess me (Y/N)! I am not--I AM NOT LEAVING!"

"NOBODY IS DOING ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY'RE DEAD, HABIB!" Your voice thundered through the room, and the force of it, your frame standing tall before him, made him cower against the bedframe.

"They’re dead... Habib... you... killed them."

His wide eyes filled with disbelief, and he shook his head violently.

"I didn’t! It wasn’t me-" His voice cracked, desperate. "It was Habib! (Y/N)... it was Habib! Yo-ur Golrez wouldn't do this!."

He slid to his knees, hands trembling as he grabbed your legs, looking up at you with those beautiful, broken, haunting eyes.

"I-... your Golrez won’t do that. But Habib will, THIS IS WHY I HATE HIM!... And (Y/N), they were bad... they were so bad to me... I couldn’t take it..." His words barely made sense, a mix of anguish and confusion that tore at your heart.

You reached down, your hand caressing his hair, trying to soothe him as he sobbed into your waist. You couldn’t help but join him in silence, your hands gripping his shoulders to ground both of you.

"You... you won’t leave me, right!? NO! NO! Please! Don’t let them take me away, (Y/N)! I--look! We’re getting married, right!? Please-"

You gently cupped his face in your hands, your gaze soft but firm. "Habib, it will be over. I promise."

But your calm words and touch did nothing to ease his spiraling panic.

"No... what--(Y/N)... I--I love you. I love you so much."

Your throat tightened. "I love you too, more than you can imagine. But... procedures... have to be followed. I am sorry..."

His eyes welled with tears, his face twisting in pain, but you couldn’t let yourself falter, not now.

Nothing could have prepared you for what came next. Habib was taken away by the guards, and you followed behind them in your own car, eyes never leaving the van that carried him. Each mile felt like an eternity.

"He was the eldest son of Kadir Jafari and Dana Jafari..."

Kadir Jafari.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," you spat, your voice rising with each word. "If only, instead of getting tangled in the web of superstitions, and hiding like a coward because of your own son, you'd have faced the truth... it wouldn’t have cost you everything. Your entire family, and your fucking reputation!"

Dana clutched her husband's side in fear, both of them bowing their heads in shame. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air.

"We--we swear we didn’t know... My judgment... got clouded by my own... fears, my belief in Basim's words, and I was too... busy with my own responsibilities at the time. I didn’t... pay attention to this."

"If you had," you interrupted sharply, your voice growing colder, "Habib wouldn’t be in this condition. Basim would still be alive--though, as much as I’d like to say he had it coming... God punishes for sins like this, both in this world and the hereafter, and both of them... got what they deserved." You took a deep breath, calming yourself just slightly before continuing.

"Then comes Rahim..." You stood, your boots clicking against the floor as you walked toward the elderly couple, your steps filled with purpose.

"You have no fucking idea how my heart clenches every time I look at that kid." The words tasted bitter as you spoke, your jaw clenched so hard you thought it might break. But you kept your voice steady, forcing yourself to remain in control.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, followed by a dry, humorless chuckle. You walked toward the window, staring out at the gardener trimming the bushes below. "What's the point of blaming you two anyway?" You muttered, almost to yourself.

"Please! Just... please save Habib!" Dana cried, her voice breaking.

"Maha, escort them out," you ordered coldly, cutting her off before she could say more.

"No! Ma’am! Ma’am-"

"See you in court." Your words were final, and their desperate pleas faded as they were escorted out.

Your gaze lingered on the gardener for a moment longer, his movements calm, indifferent to the storm inside the room. The stillness outside felt like a stark contrast to the chaos you felt within.

After reviewing everything, and listening to the testimonies, including those of Samir and his wife, who claimed they fled out of fear of Habib...

You couldn’t help but wonder: was it the same fear Habib had lived with every single day, from the time he was a child? Fear that he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried?

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. The weight of the decision pressed down on your shoulders, but there was no turning back now.

"Based on the facts and medical records, it is clear that Habib Jafari suffers from Paranoid Schizophrenia. He had not been properly treated, which worsened his condition. His brother’s abuse also played a significant role in exacerbating it. Therefore, I declare..."

You paused, letting the words hang in the air, before continuing.

"Habib Jafari is innocent of the murders. He was not in his right mind. He will be treated and confined to a mental facility." Where, by God’s will, he will heal. "Rahim Jafari will also be offered intensive care and therapy. Kadir Jafari is sentenced to six months for his neglect. Samir Jafari and his wife Laila are sentenced to one year without bail for concealing the abuse in their home. Silence in the face of such horrors is as much a crime as committing the act itself, especially when it involves children."

You felt a cold sense of finality as you spoke the words, but you weren’t done.

"I am also issuing an order for an awareness program to be carried out across the village regarding mental health and disorders. I assign this responsibility to Dr. Fahim and Dr. Aisha." Both professionals nodded in acknowledgment.

"And it must be done effectively." You looked at them both sharply.

"Also, as much as speaking ill of the dead is wrong it is important that we still discuss this topic. And I am now speaking not as a judge of this case but...as your Deputy Commissioner so get this inside your head people.

Your eyes scanned the courtroom as silence fell over the room.

"Black magic," you began, your voice calm but firm, "is not a mere superstition. It is a dangerous force that preys on the vulnerable, twists their minds, and destroys families. Those who seek to wield such power, believing they can manipulate the very essence of life itself, do so at their own peril."

You paused, letting the words settle, then continued, your gaze locking with the accused.

"It is a sin, a heinous one. The use of black magic, whether for personal gain or to harm others, is a violation of the natural order and of God’s will. Those who resort to such dark arts must face the consequences of their actions. And if they cause harm, whether to a single life or to an entire community, they will not go unpunished. It is not just the physical damage it causes, but the spiritual degradation that comes with it. And those who use it to destroy others or bend them to their will… will be held accountable. No punishment is acceptable for it except death sentence."

You took in a breath and signed the stamped the paper handing it to the assistant at the side.

"Case closed."

Bang!

═════ ◈ ═════

"Ready, kiddo?" Rahim rushed to you with a giddy smile, his eyes shining excitedly as he clutched the basket full of trinkets--snacks, small tokens, and books. You couldn’t help but smile at his youthful enthusiasm, even amid everything they had been through.

You both settled into the car, the engine humming softly as you pulled out of the driveway of the bungalow. Rahim's gaze drifted between the basket in his lap and the window, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the photos inside the basket.

"Ma'a-"

"Aunty (Y/N), I told you to call me that. Don't be shy." Rahim chuckled softly, leaning back into the seat, his eyes finding yours. Despite being in your custody, he still acted shy. You wanted this intelligent and kind boy to have a good life and you will definitely give him that.

He looked at you, his voice quieter now, the lightheartedness shifting as something darker passed over his features. "Aunty...I--I remember being so afraid...of uncle, y'know...that night."

You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat as the memories of that terrible night rushed back. You didn’t want him to relive the worst moments, but you understood that he needed to speak. You exhaled slowly, choosing to listen, to give him the space he needed to heal.

"But...you never...showed any fear. How?" Rahim's voice was fragile, a stark contrast to the bravery he always tried to show.

"Well, the cheesy cliche answer is going to be that... love makes you stronger?" You let out a dry laugh, trying to ease the tension. "Pft. That's what people say, right?" You took a smooth turn, glancing at Rahim for a moment before continuing. "The logical one would be... that I’ve been trained all my life to deal with... every type of person, every calamity. I’ve always been like this. My dad raised me to be like a rock."

You kept your tone steady, though your heart was tight with the memories of how much you’d had to endure. "And Habib...he didn't do it consciously. It has been proven... there’s no way he would ever hurt me--or even you. And deep down, I know that. I can see that you know that, too, right? That’s why... you still defended him."

Rahim’s expression softened, and a quiet understanding passed between you. His eyes dropped to the basket in his lap, his fingers nervously tugging at the edge of the cloth.

"Because I love him too," he whispered, his voice full of the weight of his emotions. "I always have. He... didn’t deserve any of that... not an ounce." A tear slipped down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it away, his lips pressing into a rueful smile as he shook his head. "It’s over now, right? We’re all going to be okay?"

You nodded softly, your heart aching for the things Rahim had witnessed, for the boy who had lost so much, yet still loved with all his heart.

"I know I may sound harsh but since the wound has reopened I must tell you that even if your parents were alive right now...and they got caught doing that, they would still face death." Rahim barely glanced at you and nodded.

"I know...they...literally dug their own graves." Then followed a peaceful yet eerie silence. The hum of the engine pulls you both into a relaxed state.

"You are my ideal, y’know," Rahim continued, a soft sincerity in his voice. "I wanna be like you. And even raise my kids to be like you."

You chuckled, the sound light and warm. "You little brat, already thinking of marriage, huh? Focus on your studies, mister." You ruffled his hair playfully, earning a whiny protest from him.

"I will, I will. But... it’s just that... you’re so strong, Aunty," Rahim mumbled, his head leaning against the window, his gaze distant for a moment. "I want to be that strong too."

"You are already stronger than me Rahim, you are."

The car ride fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of the conversation settling between the two of you. You arrived at the facility not long after, and you both got out of the car, walking toward the entrance with a quiet determination.

The nurse greeted you as you walked in, and Habib’s face lit up the moment he saw you both. He stood up from his chair, his movements still a little slow, but his smile was genuine, warm, as if seeing you brought him a kind of peace he hadn’t known in a long time.

He didn't remember much things but he always remembered you both....

The two people who showed him real love...

He also remembered bits of that night. The blood the screams...the satisfaction and surprisingly...he didn't feel any guilt. He tried to...but couldn't. It was as if the kindness that shrouded his heart seemed to evaporate when it came to those who wronged him...who tried to take away his happiness. Keep him away from you. He won a battle in his mind that he won't ever sing the praise of in front of anyone and that is...he didn't regret what he did and for you, he could go through that night a thousand times over.

“(Y/N), Rahim..." His voice was soft, but it held a deep affection, a recognition that made your heart race.

"Hi, Habib," you greeted him with a smile, stepping closer as Rahim gently placed the basket of gifts on the table.

"Look what we brought for you!" Rahim’s voice was full of enthusiasm as he pointed to the items in the basket. "Snacks and lots of them!." He added with a wink, his eyes still a little damp from earlier.

Habib hugged both of you, his hand never leaving yours. After Rahim shared every story from his school, the room fell into a quiet silence, broken only by Habib’s meek voice.

"(Y/N)... please, take me with you today. I am doing better now." Habib's voice was soft, yet full of longing, his eyes bright with a flicker of hope. He looked at you earnestly, as if each word he spoke was a plea, a wish for something more, something he was desperate to reach for.

Rahim, too, glanced over at you with an expectant expression. His eyes mirrored the same yearning, the same desire to see Habib back to the life they had known before everything fell apart.

You felt your heart ache at the sight of both of them, at the way Habib looked at you like a child longing for reassurance. You knew he was healing, but the road had been long, and two days still felt like an eternity for him.

"Habib, just a few more days," you said softly, your voice steady but gentle. "Then it’s over. I promise."

"Promise?" The word left his lips in a breathless whisper, as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His eyes were searching yours, wide and vulnerable, desperate for the assurance that you would keep your word.

And before you could say anything more, Habib leaped into your arms, holding you tightly as though afraid you might disappear if he let go. The force of his embrace took you by surprise, but you wrapped your arms around him just as quickly, grounding him in the way you always had.

“I promise, Habib,” you whispered, your voice low and soothing. “Just a little longer, okay? You’ve come so far. We’re so close. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

You could feel the tension leave his body as he buried his face in your shoulder, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Thank you… (Y/N)... I feel like I’ve waited so long...”

You kissed the top of his head, holding him as tightly as he held you, your heart beating in sync with his. You knew this moment wasn’t just about the days left, it was about everything you had fought for, everything you had been through together. The future was waiting, and though it would still take time, you knew it would be worth it.

Rahim watched the two of you, his own heart full. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched Habib, so fragile yet so strong in your arms. The healing had already begun, not just in Habib but in all of you, and this was just the beginning.

═════ ◈ ═════

Then one day, you both decided that the time had come. Habib was healing, his heart and mind slowly piecing themselves back together. You didn’t need a grand ceremony. You didn’t need anyone else but each other.

And so, in the quiet of your bungalow, with the soft light of the setting sun streaming through the windows, you both exchanged your vows in a simple ceremony. Rahim stood by your side along with your parents, the only witnesses to the sacred bond you shared.

Habib, still finding his way back to himself, took your hand with trembling fingers, his voice steady but full of emotion as he said the words you had longed to hear.

“I will love you, (Y/N), for as long as I breathe. Forever."

With that, you both were joined in marriage, and in that moment, the future was wide open, full of promise and hope.

"I love you, too," you said, your heart full of everything you had longed to say.

As the ceremony ended, you both stood together, hands intertwined. You stepped out into the garden, where fairy lights twinkled in the trees, the same lights that had decorated the bungalow weeks ago. The air was still and quiet, save for the soft hum of the night, as you walked hand-in-hand with the man who had once been lost, and now was home.

You watched him leaning against the veranda's doorway as he giggled like a child taking in the decorations and the fresh air, the calm quietness and relishing now being bonded with you.

"Kay now, Habib, come we need to rest." He ran over and held your hand as you guided him to your--now his too--room, where he once again became giddy seeing the decorations. It was as if he...he was born again.

"I love this so much (Y/N), and I love you more." You stalked to him and kissed his forehead and then lips, the kiss being gentle and reverent.

"Now...you are finally home."

Indeed he is. Your Golrez is home.

The End.

(AN: Lemme know ur thoughts >.< and those who followed the story from the start, much love to u guys, and tysm for the support, Peace <3)

[officerfriendlysblogs]

Hidden Chords

Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: The story follows a long-time friendship between Harry Styles and the reader, who meet during Harry's One Direction days. As they both rise to fame, their bond remains strong despite busy schedules. Over the years, the reader secretly falls in love with Harry but keeps her feelings hidden, especially when he starts dating someone else.Heartbroken, she channels her emotions into a song, which becomes a hit. Harry later confronts her about the song, revealing that he has loved her all along.After years of missed chances, they finally confess their feelings and start a relationship, proving that their love was worth the wait.

Warnings:⚠️This story features elements of mildangst, minor jealousy, and heartbreak, yet it is also infused with excessively sweet moments, culminating in a joyful conclusion.⚠️

Word count: 1,184

You met Harry Styles when you were just two teenagers chasing dreams. He had his wild curls and charming grin, and you had a notebook filled with half-finished songs. It was 2010, and One Direction was on the rise. You were signed to a small record label, opening for big acts and waiting for your moment.

It was a chance meeting at a shared soundcheck that changed everything. He walked in with his bandmates, a gaggle of exuberant energy, and you were busy trying to fix a broken guitar string.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his green eyes twinkling.

“Do you know how to restring a guitar?” you shot back, skeptical but amused.

“Not a clue,” he said with a laugh, “but I could fetch someone who does.”

You smiled at that. And just like that, Harry Styles became your friend.

The years that followed were a whirlwind. You watched One Direction skyrocket to unimaginable heights while your own career slowly took off. Harry never let fame change him, though. He still texted you terrible jokes, shared Spotify playlists, and called late at night when he needed to vent about the pressures of being in the world’s biggest boyband.

“I don’t know how you handle it,” you told him once, lying on the floor of your London flat, phone pressed to your ear.

“Sometimes I don’t,” he admitted. “But then I think of people like you. Grounded, real. It keeps me sane.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

When the band announced their hiatus in 2015, Harry confided in you first.

“I think this is it,” he said, voice low and uncertain. “I think we’re done.”

You wanted to comfort him, to say the right thing, but all you managed was, “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” he said after a pause. “I think I’m ready to do my own thing.”

And he did. You watched him transform from boyband heartthrob to a solo artist who commanded the world’s attention. You couldn’t have been prouder, but with every milestone he reached, you felt the distance between you growing.

You stayed close, though. Somehow. Amid tours and albums and award shows, Harry always made time for you. But somewhere along the way, your feelings shifted.

It wasn’t just friendship anymore.

It hit you one night in New York. You were both there for different reasons—he was recording his debut album, and you were promoting your second. He invited you to his studio, where he played you a rough cut of “Sign of the Times.”

The song was beautiful, haunting. And so was he, sitting there with his guitar, eyes closed as he sang.

When he finished, you clapped, a little too enthusiastically to hide the way your heart was racing.

“It’s incredible,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said, looking almost shy. “Means a lot coming from you.”

You wanted to tell him everything in that moment, but fear held you back. He was Harry Styles. Your best friend. What if you ruined it?

Then came Camille.

She was stunning, of course—French, sophisticated, effortlessly cool. You found out through a tabloid, and your heart sank.

When you saw Harry next, you tried to act normal. He brought her to a party you were both attending, introducing her with a proud smile.

“This is Camille,” he said, arm draped around her shoulder.

“Hi,” you said, forcing a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

She was kind, polite, everything you knew Harry deserved. And that made it worse.

The first time you cried over Harry was after that party. You went home, locked yourself in your room, and let the tears fall.

You hated yourself for it. For being jealous. For wanting something you could never have.

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do. You wrote.

The song poured out of you in a way nothing ever had before. It was raw, painful, and honest—a confession you couldn’t give him in words.

The chorus was a plea: “How do I compete with the stars in your sky, when I’m just the shadow in your light?”

When your producer heard it, he insisted it go on your next album. You hesitated, terrified of what Harry would think, but eventually agreed.

The album came out, and the song—aptly titled “Shadow”—became a hit. Fans speculated endlessly about who it was about, but you never confirmed anything.

Harry called you after hearing it.

“‘Shadow,’” he said. “It’s beautiful. Heartbreaking, but beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you said, your voice tight.

“You okay?” he asked, sensing something in your tone.

“Yeah,” you lied.

Months passed. Harry and Camille broke up, but you didn’t let yourself hope. Instead, you threw yourself into work, trying to forget the way his smile made you feel, the way his voice lingered in your mind.

It wasn’t until a late night in Los Angeles that everything came to a head.

You were there for a show, and Harry was in town for a film premiere. He invited you to dinner, just the two of you, like old times.

Over glasses of wine, you talked about everything and nothing, laughing until your sides hurt.

Then, out of nowhere, he brought up “Shadow.”

“Was it about someone specific?” he asked, his tone careful.

You froze, the truth threatening to spill out.

“Why do you ask?” you countered, stalling.

“Because…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Because I feel like I know who it’s about.”

Your heart stopped. “Harry—”

“Is it me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked away, the weight of his gaze too much to bear.

“I…” You swallowed hard. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” he said.

When you finally met his eyes, you saw something there—something that looked a lot like hope.

“I wrote it because I didn’t know how else to deal,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

Harry reached across the table, his hand brushing yours.

“You could never ruin it,” he said softly. “But you should’ve told me.”

“Why?” you asked, tears brimming in your eyes. “So you could tell me you don’t feel the same?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “So I could tell you I do.”

The world seemed to stop in that moment.

“You… what?”

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he confessed. “But I didn’t think you felt the same. And then Camille happened, and I thought maybe I’d missed my chance.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, a mix of relief and disbelief.

“Harry…”

He stood, pulling you into his arms. You melted against him, all the unspoken words finally finding their place.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “We’re here now.”

And as he pressed his lips to yours, everything else faded away.

From that moment on, your relationship changed. It wasn’t easy—balancing two demanding careers never is—but you made it work.

Because love, you realized, was worth the wait.

[sangre-luz]

Hello! It’s me again. I have one more question.

what about their personalities? how different are their personality traits from the original characters? for example in reverse falls, ford was more sadistic, manipulative, calculating, cruel and power hungry. dipper was also more arrogant and calculating, and mabel was unhinged and evil. So what about your characters?

Welllll…. Lets see…

Here’s some more of my Dilation Falls AU, now with a past young Grauntie Mabel and a current Grunkle Dipper + a screenshot edit of the Stan Twins to accompany this and this

Some lore drop on their personalities and the AU itself

In Dilation Falls, our two protagonists, the Stan Twins, are sent up to Oregon in the summer of 2012 after Stanley breaks Stanford’s perpetual motion machine for the science fair project. Instead of kicking Stan out, their father angrily wants to send Stan away for the summer to mull over his actions, but Caryn convinces her husband to send both of them (of course, to hopefully hash out their issues.)

The dynamic between Stan and Ford is immensely broken at this point. Ford is so, so angry at Stan, and Stan can’t help but feel guilty. In his twins eyes, he had broken his trust and ruined his chances of attending his dream school. The two have the same personality in the beginning of the AU from their teen years in the OG show: Ford is smart, responsible, and can be rather serious, but is still immensely interested in the weird and paranormal. Stanley is playful, childish, a jokester, and hopeful.

Their Grauntie Mabel is exactly as you described- unhinged, but a bit calmer as she has smoothed out over the years. She’s still chaotic in nature, but to a lesser degree, and has learned how to use that control over the masses. She’s a perfect scam/con artist, but is still deeply devoted to her family. She and Dipper complement each other well. While Dipper works in the shadows- who I can only describe in this AU as a manipulative force of nature, egotistical, deeply prideful and a bit of a megalomaniac, Mabel works as the face of their Pines business, a cunning businesswoman who isn’t afraid to use her demon to gain control of any situation :^)

Unlike Stan and Ford, I believe Dip and Mabel have a rather strong bond like in the OG series. Even if they are prone to fights and may clash often, they always forgive each other. Family is a very strong theme in the original show and of course, is the main point of this AU as well.

As the story goes on, I think Dipper would entrust Ford with Euclid, his own demon, and Mabel would entrust Stan with Scalene, her demon. It’s this that begins to bring the Stan Twins closer, but it’s also a plot point that separates them further because it’s clear the older twins are showing favorites. As for our demon parents, Euclid is constantly scarring Ford and rebelling against him during possession, while Scalene is more passive after attempting to rebel against Mabel ~30 something years ago. Her personality in this is more akin to the fandoms interpretation of Will Cipher. So, yes, baby Bill will take after his mommas personality more here ;^D

Over time, Ford would become more manipulative just like his Reverse Falls self, since Dipper takes him under his wing and as an unofficial apprentice much earlier on. On the other hand, I think Stanley wouldn’t fundamentally have a huge personality change, but if Dipper is constantly with Ford, then Stan is lonelier, and Mabel would use that opportunity to bond with him and teach him a thing or two, things that the father of the Stan Twins never even bothered to teach them.

Phew that was a LOT XD. I still have a lot of ideas I wanna draw, but this is the gist

Thanks for the ask ! ^^

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Okay a bit more of it yk

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since Adler had laid back and beckoned you up. He’d gently held your hand as you crawled up over his chest, onto his face. You’d locked your hands around the flowers carved into the headboard of the bed to keep yourself balanced, as he’d locked his arms around your thighs to make you sit, his warm tongue lapping at your pussy as the cold metal of his sunglasses dug into your thighs. It could have been minutes, hours, days, that you’d been up here. 

You knew that the room was hot. Either that, or you were, as your blood coursed through your veins, trying to keep you alive and breathing as you struggled to process how many times he’d made you come. You knew that Adler’s face looked good even when mostly obscured between your thighs and his sunglasses. You got a peek over every time you looked down, his hair sprawling back messily from his brow. 

You could feel your chest catching with each breath as he rubbed his nose against your clit, dipping his tongue in and out of your cunt, his nails digging into your skin making it feel like he was trying to eat you alive. You choked out a half-formed syllable that was meant to be his name, the letter S hissing between your lips, your body clenching as you came again. Your grip on the headboard tightened, and you were sure it was going to break under your fingers as your pussy fluttered on his tongue, your thighs squeezing like a vice around his head. A deep groan rumbled in Adler’s chest, until it was interrupted by an unmistakable crack, that came from between your thighs. 

You fell back into his lap as he sat up, catching you in one of his arms as he dragged you back from the headboard, pulling the broken sunglasses from his face. They were split clean in two, right down the middle of the bridge. 

“Would you look at that.” He mumbled, struggling out of his pussy drunk state into shock and horror, as he cradled the pieces in his hand.

You struggled for words, not wanting the first thing you said to be a horny-hazy, whoops. You took a deep breath and leant up on your elbow, propping yourself up against his shoulder. “Good thing I got you a spare pair, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, letting the shock peter out into laughter, carefully studying the place where the glasses had broken apart.

“You know, next time, you could just be conventional and not insist on wearing sunglasses while you eat my cunt.” You reached out and took the pieces from his hand. You knew he liked his sunglasses, but you were sitting here with your tits out, for fucks sake. “Kinda feels like you care more about these things, than me.”

“Fuck. Didn’t mean that.” He said, but kept watching the pieces closely, tightening his arms around your middle as you leant over to the bedside table and carefully set them down. “What’re you doing with that?” 

“I’m gonna keep them. As a trophy.” You leant back up and took his chin between your finger and thumb, pressing a kiss against his scar. 

“For what?”

“Winning.”

“Against my glasses?”

You nodded. 

He shook his head, smiling very slightly. “Well… if it means that much to you, I suppose I could give it a go.”

“What?” You tilt your head in feigned confusion. 

“Eating you out… conventionally.”

You mock gasped. “But what if you end up liking it?”

He tried to hang his head, only for you to tighten your grip on his chin, tilting it back up so he had to look at you as he spoke. “If, and I mean if, I like it… we can keep doing it.” 

“Really? For me?”

“For you.” He murmured, prying your fingers away from his chin as he slowly lay back down, pulling you with him. 

“Good boy.” You murmured as you reached out for headboard again, the huff of breath that came from between your thighs telling you that he heard that, before all was right in the world and his tongue was on your cunt again; this time without the prick of a glasses frame digging into your thighs. 

Ahem

Sitting on adler’s face and clenching your thighs around his head so hard you crack his sunglasses down the middle

Next

[neonlin]

JACK’S CHARACTER BREAKDOWN PART -3

JACK -A SOPHISTICATED LOVER

After finishing my first 2 parts on Jacks Character analysis ,I thought to wait how the narrative is gonna go in 11th episode cause after seeing the spoilers for the week ,I was almost confirmed that they are gonna do Jack's character dirty and make Joke look like a pathetic lover who once again ask for forgiveness. I am actually thankful to the show writers that they din't , and instead surprised me with his angsty/angry /hero side . Here is what I want to highlight about Jacks another character trait-He is always subtle in his ways of expressing love . He was never vocal about it ,the only time that we see him expressing was when he tells Joker that he will have his eyes only for him(EP 10) . Not only Joke but me who was watching the show sounded it so cheesy and cringe and I felt like Jack doesn’t do this but being in love he made a good attempt . At the same time when we saw Joke doing the same thing on the swing -I didn’t feel it like cringe -it was just a cute moment that made everyone shy. Here is the stark contrast between Jack and Joker,Joker is a lover boy who is expressive and Jack is the exact opposite . (They compliment each other so well here !!!!) .

People like Jack who always used to consider duty as love , never really expresses what's in their heart ,they may act or do shitty things spontaneously/impulsivily but may never intend bad things to happen.

So in Episode 10 -Jack was having one of the worst days of his life -probably the most tragic since his parents death /also the day he was fooled by Joker and was forced to join the Boss .Everything was in shambles ,there was chaos everywhere, his daughter was injured and he learns that the love of his life has broken his trust and did things behind his back which indirectly lead to some of the mishaps of the day.

This was his breaking point -he cannot do it any longer .It was so over for him.  His body, mind , heart and soul din't know what to do -there was Joke standing in front of him sobbing , crying ,unable to look straight into his eyes, defenseless ,with hands by his side and tears rolling down his eyes. Jack dint know what to do ,he felt empty ,defeated ,cheated and what not ??!! and all he could do was raise his voice and pull Jokers collar and question him for his actions. He wanted to punch him so badly, he even raised his hand to do so but couldn’t make himself to hurt the man in front of his eyes who was his  partner ,his family ,his faen .

So when the events of the day got over ,all Jack could think of was hurrying back to his home and fix things up. Good Lord !!!! and that is when we realize the whole fucking shit that he din't mean a single WORD he said to Joker at hospital. He wanted to get back to his man = his home and make things right. Don't you see ? He din't even know the whole fucking truth of why joke stole the ring , he din't want to know it either ,he just wanted to get back to his home .

But fate had different plans .....

Once Jack gets to know Joke was taken away ,It triggered the shit out of him.His face was trembling with anger , terror, regret for not coming earlier ,for having said all the wrong things, for not apologizing .It was so evident in his face. Yes that’s Jacks Character breakdown part 3 for you.!!!!!

P.S I hope the final episode brings justice to their love .And of course  I am waiting for that ‘donot touch my boyfriend ‘ scene too badly.....See he didn’t even hesitate to blurt it out loud. That my JACK !!!

[melithril]

[Adar] Perspectives

♫ - Safe & Sound - Taylor Swift & The Civil Wars

A/N: For @zanytimetravelcupcake, thank you for the request! I learned so much, so I hope you enjoy! If you all want a good learning curve, go check out kintsugi! <3

Adar did not see the point anymore. Of course, his point was his children. No matter how pointless things felt, he had to survive and be brave for them. To him, they deserved the world, and he would give it to them in every way he could if it meant they would feel as though they belong. Adar believed they deserved that much, that they deserved the happiness that came with having a  homeland, even if that meant it must happen in the absence of his own happiness. 

That wasn't to say Adar was particularly unhappy, though. While he may not be the most content of people, he most certainly had his reasons for that. He had small bits of happiness in his life, however. His children, seeing them grow from little uruks into adults, into warriors who had withstood so much hatred from Middle Earth. Then, there was you. 

You had come into Adar's life when he needed someone the most. You had walked through the door and before long, Adar found himself hoping you would never open it again. At first, he chided himself for feeling such emotions, as he had given up on love a long time ago. Though, as time passed, Adar realised that you were not bad for him, and had actually helped start to heal him. He may never be the person he used to be, but your existence in his life had meant that there was something for him to wake up for, and a reason for him to get through each day.

There were some days, such as today, where existing felt like the worst thing in the world to have to do. Adar bore a lot of weight on his shoulders, the burden of leadership got heavier as the days passed by. He would not show it often, but you could tell when something was not right. 

"Adar?" you questioned lightly, not seeing him at his desk when you entered the room. Instead, he was looking out of the window in his chair leaning on one arm. 

"Ilmarë," he replied with a soft tone, unmoving. Even on his worst days, Adar would never take his feelings out on you. 

Striding over to him, you knelt beside his chair and took his uncovered hand in your own. As you glanced up, you noticed he was more stern faced than usual. Where his features would normally be soft, instead they were harsh, and you knew his thoughts were plaguing him again.

"What is the matter, Adar?"

He sighed, running his hand through your hair and holding your face in his hand. Adar looked down to you, his eyes meeting your own, and you saw nothing but love in the way he stared. 

"Why do you love me, starlight?"

You almost flinched at his question, but from his tone you knew he was not finished. You hated when he felt like this. Not because it was an inconvenience, far from it, but more because you hated him feeling bad when, to you, he deserved everything. Instead of answering, you nodded in response to ask him to continue. 

"Well," he started, his hand back on the arm of the chair and his gaze once again landing on outside. "You could have anybody in Middle Earth, and I do not understand why it would be me that you would choose. I am broken, perhaps beyond repair. But you, you are full of life, my star. So much of it is ahead of you, I believe I would not suit that."

It tore a hole in your heart to hear that. To hear that the one person you loved most in this world thought so little of himself. To look upon him now and see the often stoic and calm lord, now with his eyes glazed over and voice wavering. You knew when you met him that he was vulnerable, and very susceptible to bouts of uncertainty, however little he may show it to others. Trying to think on the spot of how to help, you disappeared into your room and came back holding a small vase. 

"Here," you started, kneeling beside Adar's seat and staring up at him. "I want you to look at this." 

His brow furrowed as he took the miniature piece of porcelain and eyed it, turning it around in his hands. It was a black vase, no bigger than your forearm, and running through one side of it was a sliver of gold lacquer, holding it together as it clearly had been broken in the past. Adar shifted in his chair to face you a little more, inquisitive as to what exactly he was holding. 

"What might this be, my star? Other than a fine piece of work, that is."

You smiled. "I want you to have it. It is a gift."

"Thank you, starlight. Where did you get it?" Adar had yet to take his eyes off the art, clearly enjoying it.

"It is a vase made for me as a child by my mother," you began, grabbing a chair and pulling it up in front of him so you were face on. "It didn't always look like that, though. It was pure black when it was brand new. I kept it clean every day, and it was my favourite possession as I grew up. A few years ago it broke, the corner piece there was shattered."

As you turned the vase in his hands, Adar hummed in acknowledgement, and he ran his fingers over the golden rivers now adorning the broken side. 

"It is lovely, but I fail to see why it is relevant to our conversation."

"Because I thought it was beyond repair when it broke. I thought it was broken for good, and that I would never get it's perfect form back again, which devastated me. An older lady in my village took it in, and I watched her work on it one afternoon. She had fixed the side of it, and I will admit, now it is even more beautiful."

Adar nodded in agreement. You continued to talk, hoping something would click in his head eventually.

"She told me it was an art form, it's called kintsugi. This is where you take something broken, and fix it, and in that you learn to embrace the flaws or imperfections. She taught me that things that appear beyond repair are often more beautiful after the fact. I think you could learn from that too, my love."

Adar placed the vase down on the table, with the cracks facing you both as he took your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs gently across the palms of your hands. 

"Ilmarë, I believe I understand now. Do you really think that of me? You believe I am still beautiful though I am broken?"

"No, I  believe that you are beautiful in spite of being broken, Adar. I believe in the good in you, I believe that despite all that you have endured, and all that has happened to you, that in this moment you are more beautiful than ever. Though I have known you merely a few years, I think that you are imperfect in the most beautiful of ways."

Adar's piercing blue eyes met your own, and he smiled. You felt butterflies in your stomach; even after all this time, the sight of his smile never failed to make you fall in love all over again. His smile softened his whole face, and it lit up with a newfound warmth. 

"I love you, Adar. I stay because I care so deeply for you, and no matter what I will stay with you for as long as you care to have me. Please never forget that."

Adar leaned forwards and placed a kiss to your lips, and you held his face in both your hands, gently running your fingers over his scars. This was an action he used to flinch at, but now he reveled in your touch every time. Pulling away, you whispered against his lips. 

"Never forget that when you doubt yourself, I am here. You are my kintsugi."