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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 hours ago

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hi ms raven :D i was playing through vil's dream in book 7 and i was wondering if you could explain a little more about his character? i remember struggling to understand his motivs leading up to his overblot. the current understanding i have now is that vil wants to be the best or the most beautiful but is constantly getting blocked by neige probably because hes not perfect and it makes others lean towards him and want to support him while vil has reached a level where hes seemingly flawless on the outside making it hard for people to get close to him the way they do with neige? does he crave the validation from others and is that why there was an emphasis on him declaring that he himself is the most beautiful like in b6 and b7? i dont think i really understand him enough and its just been on my mind for a while now TT

I think Vil's got one of those backstories and motives that's easy to misunderstand if skimmed. This can lead to misinterpretations where fans assume he's vain and only seeking to take Neige down for shallow attention. It's a lot more complex than that!

The first thing to note about Vil is that he is a child star. His father, Eric Venue, is also a very successful celebrity, but the public does not know about their familial relationship. Vil has worked very hard to achieve his level of stardom all on his own, without relying on nepotism or riding on the coattails of his father. However, that also means that Vil was under an intense amount of pressure and scrutiny since a young age, and that can really mess with one's self-perception.

Since the start of his career, Vil has only ever been casted in villain roles. His post-OB flashback shows Vil asking his dad "Why do I keep getting picked to play the bad guy? Do I really look that mean?"

And though his father reassures him and calls him cute and charming, the vast majority of other people Vil interacts with judge him and assign labels to him. Children Vil's age "hold [him] accountable for work(s) of fiction", equating him playing villainous roles on TV to him actually being a villainous person off-set.

Similar things occur in his professional life. Film crew members praise Neige for his friendliness and wholesome vibe, but also express that Vil is just too perfect and hard for audiences to relate to, so Vil apparently isn't suitable to play the hero.

So on one hand, you have Vil's peers, who assume that he must be an awful person, just like all the characters he plays. Then you have Vil's colleagues, who put him on a pedestal, calling him "special" but also saying he's not relatable. Both viewpoints isolate and dehumanize him. They indirectly tell Vil--a young, impressionable kid--that he's not capable of goodness or of being a normal person. You also have to keep in mind that because Vil always has eyes on him, he has to maintain a cool, mature, and perfectly curated public image. He has had to grow up extremely fast in order to handle himself in the entertainment industry. That's an INTENSE amount of pressure to be under. So how does Vil react to all this pressure? By pushing himself to work even harder to prove everyone wrong. "I would do anything to be beautiful. The most rigorous training. The most tedious hair and skin care regimens. I would shy away from none of it."

At this juncture, I'd like to point out a vital area where Vil's story and that of Snow White weave together. In Snow White, physical beauty is used as shorthand to indicate the goodness of a character. Snow White is pure, beautiful, and innocent because she has a good heart. The Evil Queen is more accurately depicted in her hag form because of how her jealousy twists her into something hideous. When Vil speaks of beauty, it's also in a similar context. He's using "beauty" as a metaphor for "goodness", hence why he fixates on Neige being the "fairest one of all". Neige is the one always playing the hero, and he is also the one the internet considers the most beautiful--so if Vil can become the most beautiful, then surely he, too, can be a hero.

If beauty = goodness, then the opposite is also true to book 5 Vil: ugliness = villainy. And if he is always assigned the villain again and again and again, then its telling Vil that he's “ugly”, that he is a bad person and can never be anything but that.

Not only that, but Vil's worries about permanently being labelled a villain relates back to how his peers and colleagues perceive him. "[...] villains never stay on stage for the whole play. Once their role is finished, all they do is watch from the shadows as the happy ending plays out. [...] All I want is to stay on stage until the end of the show." Vil wants what has always been denied to him: the ability to stand on stage and take a bow with the other actors, to be treated like a normal person that's a part of the group, to have that humanity handed back to him. Why should he be the only one languishing backstage while Neige and other heroes get to soak up that spotlight? He wants to be a part of it, too. He wants to be included.

Let's get back into book 5, present day, now. Vil spends much of this book driving his teammates VERY hard to achieve his vision. To this end, he is imposing harsh restrictions on them, such as new diets, new skincare, new practice routines, and more. This of course garners many protests, but Vil insists on having his way and admonishes those who complain. In these moments, Vil is very much acting like a "villain"--but to him, it's all worth it, because he wants to win against Neige fair and square, earning that victory through his own efforts. "[...] I have no interest in spells that fade when the clock chimes midnight. What I seek is genuine, authentic aesthetic perfection."

Recall that I said earlier that beauty is used as a shorthand for goodness. Because Vil is stating that he wants to win fairly, he is attempting to demonstrate his own beauty--his own goodness--in this bid to triumph over his rival.

But what ends up happening? Vil sees Neige's practice performance and realizes right away that NRC is destined to lose. He tries to take matters into his own hands by cursing a bottle of apple juice and offering it to Neige. While book 5 is vague about what the consequences of drinking that cursed juice would have been, book 7 implies the worst--that Vil had intended to kill Neige with it. Vil went against his own principles (which he stated earlier in book 5) and used a dirty tactic to get Neige out of his way. He can only win if he harms others in the process. I would argue that what triggers Vil to snap and OB isn't his failure to poison Neige (although that's certainly a part of it), but rather Vil realizing he just... proved what everyone has always said about him right. That he's rotten to the core (ie "ugly") and will never be anything else but a villain.

Vil fixates on the eyes of his teammates, perceiving them to be staring at him and judging the moral ugliness of his actions. Like in his childhood, he derives much of his image from public feedback--from the eyes on him. "Please. Don't look at me... Don't look at me with those eyes! Why? I wanted to be the fairest one of all, so why am I so... so... ugly? Ugly?! UGLY?!"

Kalim and Rook try to reassure Vil and remind him that Neige didn't get hurt, so it's okay. But Vil only gets more upset and continues to berate himself. "What does it matter who forgives me?! I can't... I can't forgive myself!" This makes sense for Vil, who is a character that has consistently held the people around him, as well as himself, to high standards. He has betrayed himself, and he is ashamed of how ugly his envy has made him.

After Vil's OB, Rook pretty succinctly states why Vil fails to be "beautiful": because he doesn't believe in himself. Throughout his entire life, Vil has been relying on the words of others to affirm his identity as someone "beautiful", as a "good" person. You can even argue that Vil being so strict with himself is to earn the approval of others, to be seen as the "most beautiful". But Vil never truly believed he was "beautiful" ("good"), and that lack of confidence is ironically what is keeping him from realizing his full potential. "Nobody should believe in your beauty more than you yourself [...] No amount of validation from the rest of the world will ever leave you fulfilled. Even if you wind up old, emaciated, grimy, and stooped over... If you were to truly believe that you are the fairest of all despite that, even the Magic Mirror of legend wouldn't contest your claim. The strength and pride to believe in yourself is what marks the true fairest one of all. Roi du Poison. Fair Vil. I implore you to believe in yourself more than anyone else. Beauty is always with you. At this exact moment, you are the fairest one of all."

In book 6, we get to see how far Vil's character has progressed. When Idia taunts Pomefiore, calling them "wannabe heroes", Vil responds with, "You know, I've always wanted to be cast as a hero, just once. But there are no heroes or villains here. This time I'll be the one who stays on stage till the very end!" He now disregards the notion of labels and is only committed to being the one that puts an end to Idia's machinations.

This point is even further driven home when we see old!Vil, the result of him diving into Tartarus to pull Idia out. Though his dorm members are shocked to see their glamourous leader in this state, Vil laughs it off and announces, without hesitation: "Even though I'm grimy, withered, and emaciated... At this exact moment, I am the fairest one of all." This parallels the words Rook imparted onto him at the end of book 5. ("Even if you wind up old, emaciated, grimy, and stooped over... [...] At this exact moment, you are the fairest one of all.")

It's a complete reversal of Vil OBing. Back in book 5, Vil went mad because he realized his jealous actions made him hideous (even if he still physically looks young and conventionally attractive). But now, in book 6, Vil is content in knowing that his heroic actions make him absolutely beautiful (even if he stands there, old and grey). It doesn't matter what he looks like on the outside, or what other people think of him--because Vil has learned to love himself and to stay true to his principles.

He is deserving of standing on that stage with everyone else. He is human, like everyone else. He’s not THE Vil Schoenheit anymore, he’s… just Vil. This also shows in vulnerable moments late game, like him squealing from excitement at the end of book 6 or screaming in fear in book 7. He still has the image of a celebrity to maintain, but he’s now allowing himself to be less of that “perfect” person, at least around his peers. I believe this is what Vil’s dream in book 7 reinforces. I won't get into the details of that dream, since I assume you've played it + it would just repeat what I've already gone over in this post. That’s honestly what most (if not all) of the book 7 dreams do, try to summarize their personal issues, how the dream attempts to placate them with convenient falsehoods, and then have the dreamers confront those falsehoods with what they’ve learned through their own arcs.

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kxsagi · 2 days ago

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hello! Can i request stalker rin x reader 😞 Just can’t stop thinking abt rin being obsessed with the love of his life who doesn’t even know that rin likes them cause like he has attachment issues y’know

“𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞”

a/n: thank you for your request! i understand some people either have a love/hate relationship with stalking works for certain reasons, but i personally don’t want to romanticize it so i tried to make it a little better. i hope you still like it!

(header image credits go to r5_bll on X)

rin's heart pounded as he watched you through the cracked blinds of his apartment. he didn't know when his obsession started. it was subtle at first, a glance across the street, a passing encounter at the coffee shop. but then it grew, like a weed in his chest, growing uncontrollably, strangling his thoughts.

he knew everything about you: what time you left for work, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were nervous, the way you never wore the same shoes twice. he'd memorized your routine. he'd seen the same smile on your face dozens of times, and each time, it made his chest ache in a way he couldn't explain. it wasn't love, he told himself. no, it was something different, something more urgent, something that filled the emptiness inside him.

sometimes, he tried to ignore it. he told himself it was normal. everyone gets attached, right? but he knew it wasn’t that simple. he had attachment issues, always had. it was hard for him to trust, to let people in because he was scared of them leaving one day. maybe that was why this obsession felt so consuming, because it was the only way he knew how to feel connected, even if it was from a distance. even if you didn't know he existed.

you didn't know he existed beyond the occasional nod when you passed him in the hallway. he liked it that way. he liked being invisible. there was safety in it. no one would ever know how much he cared, how much he wanted to protect you, to keep you all to himself. but it hurt, too. gosh, it hurt.

sometimes, he felt like he was going crazy. he thought about calling out to you, saying something, anything to break the silence. but what could he say? hey, i'm the guy who's been watching you for months now. i know your favorite coffee order, your schedule, your scent. i'm in love with you. no, he couldn't say that. not yet.

the days went by, and he continued to observe you from a distance. sometimes, he followed you, just to see where you went when you left the apartment building. other times, he stood outside your workplace, pretending to be lost in thought, waiting for you to walk by. he'd never get too close, never cross the line. he knew that much, at least.

but the thought of you getting close to someone else? the thought of you laughing with a man, maybe holding his hand? it made his stomach turn. no one else could have you. he was the only one who truly understood you.

he had an idea. it was a simple one, a harmless one. he'd write you a letter, a small note, to let you know he was there, that he cared. he could be kind and gentle about it. he could tell you how much he admired you, how he saw the pain in your eyes when no one else did. he wouldn't tell you everything, of course. no, that was too much. but maybe just enough to make you notice him, just enough to make you wonder if there was more.

he sat down at his desk, pen in hand, and began to write. but before the first word was even finished, the guilt crept in. this isn’t love. this is control.

his hands trembled as he stared at the page, the weight of his own twisted feelings pressing down on him. he didn't want to hurt you. he never wanted to hurt you. but the line between love and obsession was blurry, and he was already far beyond it.

as he crumpled the letter and tossed it into the trash, the thought lingered in his mind: how could you ever love someone like him?

and so, he waited. he'd wait until he figured it out. until you somehow, someway, noticed him. until you knew.

because, for rin, it was the only thing that made sense.

𐙚

time passed, and rin continued to wrestle with his thoughts. the darkness of obsession still tugged at him, but something inside him began to shift. maybe it was the guilt he felt every time he saw you, the small voice in his head telling him that what he was doing wasn't healthy. maybe it was the rare moments of self-awareness, when he realized how much he was hurting himself by keeping you at arm's length, trapped in his twisted idea of connection.

he knew something had to change.

the first step was acknowledging it. rin had always struggled with his attachment issues, the way he clung to people and ideas in ways that were suffocating. but now, he forced himself to look in the mirror and admit what he had been avoiding: this isn’t love. love wasn’t something that came from control or secrecy. love was something shared, something open, something that allowed both people to grow. and right now, he wasn’t allowing anyone to grow. not you, and certainly not himself.

so, he began to work on himself.

he started therapy, something he'd never even considered before. it was hard at first, talking to someone about his fears, his anxieties, his unhealthy patterns. but with each session, he began to peel back the layers of his past, the reasons behind his need to attach so intensely. it wasn’t easy, but slowly, rin started to see things differently. he learned how to set boundaries, real ones, not just the ones that kept people away from him, and how to respect those boundaries, especially his own. he learned that he didn’t have to watch you to care for you, that he didn’t need to know your every move to feel connected.

he also started taking care of himself in small ways – eating better, going for runs, reading books that helped him understand relationships and how to form healthy connections. he started talking to people again, not just you, but others too. at practice, he'd strike up conversations with teammates, and though he was still nervous, he found that the more he opened up, the easier it became.

one day, he saw you at the coffee shop again, the same place he had first noticed you months ago. you were sitting alone, sipping a matcha latte, lost in your phone. for a moment, his heart skipped a beat. the urge to go up to you, to say something, anything, was still there. but this time, something was different. instead of rushing toward you, his feet stayed rooted to the ground. he stood at the counter, waiting for his coffee, taking a deep breath, and just letting himself be present in the moment.

and then, as he turned to leave, something unexpected happened. you looked up, your eyes meeting his for the first time in what felt like forever.

"hey," you said, offering a small, tentative smile.

rin froze. for a moment, he couldn’t move. but then, the old pull, the familiar urge to retreat into the shadows, faded away. he swallowed, his nerves settling just enough to speak.

"hi," he managed, his voice steadier than he expected.

you tilted your head slightly, eyes flickering to the book in his hand. "i like that author," you said. "haven't met many people who do."

it was a simple conversation. a small, quiet exchange. but it was real. there was no obsession behind it. there was no hidden agenda. just two people, talking, sharing something in common.

"yeah," rin said, a little surprised by how comfortable he felt. "i... i’ve been reading a lot lately. trying to find better ways to understand people, I guess."

you nodded, curiosity in your eyes. "that's good. sounds like you're working on yourself."

rin felt a flush of warmth spread through him, but it wasn’t the rush of excitement that used to come with watching you from afar. no, this was different. this was the quiet satisfaction of knowing that he was finally moving toward something healthier, something real. maybe he wasn't as invisible as he'd once believed.

"yeah," he said softly. "i’m trying."

there was a pause, and then you smiled, this time with a warmth that made him feel lighter. "it’s good to see people trying."

and that was it. you didn’t know the whole truth, and maybe you never would. but in that moment, you saw him. you saw him as a person, not a shadow in the corner of your life. and that meant everything.

rin didn’t chase after you. he didn’t try to force anything. he simply stood there, grateful for the small, healthy connection that had bloomed between you two.

it wasn’t love, not yet. but it was a start. and for the first time, rin was okay with that. because he knew he had more to give, not just to you, but to himself too.

and maybe, just maybe, in time, you’d see him for who he truly was, not a stranger hiding in the distance, but someone who had learned to stand on his own, to respect boundaries, and to be the kind of person who could be loved for who he really was.

for now, though, that was enough.

#rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin blue lock #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x fem reader #itoshi rin x fem reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader

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zivazivc · 1 day ago

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How do you think Les would act toward Floyd older? After the third movie, I mean.

Calmer, and stable Floyd, who I'm guessing actually got some help in the village. Maybe Floyd got help by talking things out there with someone, like therapy-ish. Or, just his brothers helping him through it all, because that's probably what he needed.

Seeing him happier than when he last saw him.

And, his new hair! I mean, him learning of everything that happened.

Would they get together again, or rekindle whatever reasonship (staying just friends?)

Ohh my story has gone through so many changes and updates that I haven't really talked about on here so it's hard to answer this ask straightforwardly now. 😅

I have caved and decided Les and Floyd still end up together so... 🙈

"I thought you were dead..." | "'M sorry."

Here's an updated version of this old post:

The timeline right now is more or less the same with them having a nasty breakup when Floyd is 22. The cause for it is that until that point Floyd only has hypomanic episodes which raise some eyebrows but they aren't that concerning to anyone, not with the kind of lifestyle they are having anyway. But at the time of the breakup he suffers from full-blown mania with psychosis for the first time which hurts both him as well as Les and the other bandmates.

Then there's the 2 year period where they are apart and Floyd falls hard into substance abuse and bad habits. Then Les bumps into him at a party and gets them to talk outside. It's clear to both that they feel incredibly sorry about what happened when they broke up. Floyd quickly after coming down from his mania realized that what he believed was going was all a delusion his brain convinced him of. And Les feels responsible for the addicted and mentally unwell state Floyd has ended up in.

There's still love there but so much hurt and the trust they had is damaged to the point they're unsure if it's fixable. Neither of them knows how to even address what went down in those days leading up to the breakup.

Les decides to help Floyd get back on his feet but he doesn't want him near the band anymore. He's convinced that the band isn't good for him anyway. He finds him a place to stay and a job in a remote town where not much goes on so he has a chance to sober up. The band at this point is still trying to make it work by doing gigs, so Les visits him little by little in between to check on him during this time period.

They go back to being friends gradually and Floyd shows interest in getting back together romantically from early on while Les has trust issues he can't get past. Les is very reserved and non-confrontational when it comes to addressing his hurt so he doesn't bring it up. Floyd is usually the one who would make those conversations happen, but Floyd at this point isn't aware that he has bipolar and doesn't understand what happened (is happening) to him, and he is very uncomfortable addressing it too.

But eventually they can no longer tiptoe around the topic of their breakup. Les wants to know what happened and why Floyd accused him of the things he did - which to Les it felt like Floyd took everything Les had confided in him regarding his childhood abuse and throwing it back in his face. Floyd feels awful because the only explanation he has is that at the time he really thought they were true. He tells him that he knows they aren't true but that something was really really wrong with him. He tries to explain what he was going through the best he can and he also tells him that whenever he tried to address it back then he was accused of constantly getting high on worms behind their backs which is what caused his paranoia to spiral.

The conversation doesn't answer everything but it makes it clear to both that neither of them wanted to hurt the other person, especially not intentionally. Which is what allows them to make the step into getting back together.

But not long after this Floyd suffers another strong manic episode and messes up at his job and books it out of that town. Once Les finds him and sees him in that hyper and erratic state again but now with more understanding, he tries his hardest to bring it down and help, and he finally firmly tells him that he needs to get professional help. Floyd doesn't like the idea of going to therapy so he says he'll go only if Les goes too to work out his own trauma. Around this point it's also when the band officially breaks up (they just couldn't ever recover after losing Floyd and Liv) so Les has no excuses to give why he can't go and he eventually agrees.

Floyd finally gets his bipolar diagnosis (yay!) and gets "meds" for it, and this revelation also helps both of them to really put the breakup incident behind them.

After this point they're more or less together. I say "more or less" because they're not in a conventional relationship and they're not following the classic rules of being a couple. They know each other inside out and are both deeply and unconditionally in love with each other but whatever they have looks more like casual dating that's been going on for more than a decade. Sometimes they live together like an old married couple and sometimes they don't and they keep in touch through letters and scheduled calls in phone booths.

One day during their "apart time" Floyd stops answering those scheduled calls and Les gets worried and sets out to look for him, which turns into a desperate months-long search while tensions in the country are high, non Rock Trolls are getting arrested and disappearing left and right, and the Rock Kingdom is secretly planning their invasion of the other kingdoms.

youtube

#I'm stopping here because this got long!#but uhm les is a mess by the time floyd finally shows up. guy was already going through the first stages of grief... :(#answered #trolls #dreamwork trolls #ex bandmates #trolls floyd #trolls oc #les #floylie #my art #btw sorry for the late reply!

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bbina · 2 days ago

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you've been contemplating on how you would break it to wonbin that you want to have no contact over the course of midterm break. you were scared of what he would think and how he would react

will he take it negatively? will he take it to heart? will he understand?

you two were now in bed after spending the rest of the evening packing and cleaning your apartment. you had to wake up early tomorrow to catch the first train but you couldn’t sleep

"what are you thinking about?" wonbin asks, leaning his head on top of yours

"hm?" you hum, looking up at him

wonbin lightly pokes your forehead with his hand

"you keep tossing and turning" he points out, "and you should be sleeping now if you have to get to the train station first thing in the morning"

you turn around in his arms to face him. wonbin smiles softly and kisses your forehead, tugging you closer to him, relishing in your warmth and the overall peaceful atmosphere in your apartment

until you break it

"wonbin, can i ask you to do something for me?"

wonbin's ears perk up at the subtle change of tone in your voice. you seemed pretty nervous yet you sound serious at the same time

"sure. what is it?" wonbin tries to sound confident. for some reason he feels scared

there was that feeling of impending doom in the pits of his stomach again. he feels there's something is going to happen and he does not like it one bit

taking a deep breath, you look at him directly in the eye

"tomorrow when i get on the train, can we have no contact til the midterm break is over?"

wonbin freezes. his arms around you fall stiff as your words echoes in his head like an infinite void

no contact.

you are asking him for no contact.

you wince at the way the air has become suffocating. neither of you are speaking up after you basically dropped the bomb on wonbin. after what feels like forever, wonbin finally breaks the tension

"... can i ask why?" he asks softly

you take a sharp inhale, trying to keep your emotions in check. you told yourself you weren't going to cry but it was hard. this was hard for you too

"i just need some time and space.. to think about what i'm doing with this... and to give you time to think about... us too.." you explain, voice cracking at the end, "because i don't think i can do this anymore"

wonbin, being quick with it, immediately wipes your stray tears away with his thumb

"hey, it's okay.. i get it" wonbin says softly, cupping your cheeks in. attempt to comfort you while you cry

your hands reach over to hold his, you divert your eyes elsewhere because if you were to make eye contact with him, you wouldn't be able to control yourself from crying harder

"i'm sorry–"

"don't be" wonbin cuts you off, tucking a stray hair from your face before he gulps. almost as if he was hesitating what he would say next

"i understand"

somehow hearing him say that he understands why you're doing this just made you feel worse. you honestly can't believe that everything had led to this

you sniffle as you take a good look at wonbin. you expected that he'd put up a fight for this. tell you that there's no need to go no contact because he had already made up his mind

but you know better. you know damn well that him having no answer to your confession a few nights ago was an answer itself

he's not ready yet and thats what hurt you the most.

you break free from his hold to sit up. you fan your face in attempt to stop the waterworks from going off but it was no use. everything was now too heavy to hold it in inside

wonbin springs up the moment you start silently sobbing. you clearly didn't want to do this but you had to. this was the only option you have left. he slowly reaches forward and pulls you into his hold, holding you as you cry

"shh.. it's okay" wonbin shushes, rubbing your back to console you, "we'll be okay"

"then why does it feel like goodbye?" you croak, hiding your mess of a face

wonbin freezes, unsure on how to answer. what are you even supposed to say to that? he opens his mouth to say something but clamps it shut immediately because he feels like you'd only latch onto that last string of hope left if he did say something

he wants to but he knows can't or at least, not yet and that's what frustrates him the most

was this the impending doom he has been feeling for a couple of days now?

this was it. the consequences of his own actions— his inability to fully commit. his own fear of getting abandoned once the relationship gets so vulnerable that he fully trusts you, his mind thinks ahead before he realizes it. he fully believes that you would abandon him just like his past relationship

you hate how wonbin stays silent in times like this. you almost want to scream at him to fight for you. he wanted you, did he not? or was everything just a façade? all those nights, all those memories you two have made, everything you poured your heart and soul onto

were you not enough for him?

instead of answering, wonbin holds you tighter. so tight you'd think that if he would let go, you'd disappear from him

maybe that's what you need to do

no words exchanged, no explanations either. just the two of you in complete silence in each other's arms because maybe this would be the last time in a long time

for what was once comforting was now suffocating

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . i’m sorry

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

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꩜ notes .ᐟ are binyn titanic cus they just sank down + this chapter is so not you too by drake

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @pwbjsc @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @quicksilverstone @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @wbyeolz @peterm4rker @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @ennycutie @sa3ha @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu @mujeans @ijustreallylike2read @endtostartbreathin

#alone together #wonbin imagines #wonbin x reader #wonbin fake texts #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fake texts #riize social media au #wonbin social media au #wonbin smau #riize smau #park wonbin imagines #park wonbin x reader #park wonbin fake texts #park wonbin social media au #park wonbin smau #riize au #wonbin au #park wonbin au

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s4pphicb1mb0 · 1 day ago

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can you do ambessa coming home and finding a plug that accidentally got delivered which gives her the idea to fuck reader with a strap and the plug but reader protests too much so ambessa has to use a ball gag?

Sweet girl- Ambessa Medarda

Warnings: Rough sex, strap on use, butt plug, mean Ambessa, pussy spanking, cnc, cuffs.

MEN AND MINORS DNI

AN: I altered it a bit to what I was already writing.

Ambessa was working. She got a notification that said, “Shipped to Medarda Residence. Checkout 90$”

90$?!

She doesn't remember ordering something so expensive. She tried calling you but you weren't picking up. She decides to see what the deal is when she gets home.

_________________________

Around the evening, she returns home and calls you. yOu quickly nervously appears in front of her and seems very obviously tensed up.

“Did you order something my girl?" she asks calmly, sitting and spreading out on the couch and she pats her lap.

You walk to her and sit down

“Huh?” you answer innocently

“Did you use my credit card to order something?” she asks again

“N-no haha what would I even order that's 90$?” oh you dumb girl

She grips your hair in her fist tightly and makes you look at her. You realize you fucked up

“Tell me. What.did.you.order” she barks out and gives your hair another sharp tug

“M-mommy please” you whine out and tears prick in the corner of your eyes and you squirm

She pushes you off her lap and starts aggressively searching the house

You didn't know the credit card company sends a notification of big purchases and now you were fucked.

Within 5 minutes ambessa emerges with a box and a……………

Butt plug with a diamond on the flared base of it.

“Now what is this, my girl?”

“‘Bessa I-I can explain ple-” she yanks you off the couch and curries you to the bedroom on her shoulder and gives you ass a sharp smack.

She throws you onto the bed and immediately binds you to the bed from the cuffs that were already on the bedpost from last night.

“Mommy no please I'm sorry, please” you plead but it's futile

she delivers a very hard slap to your thigh making you cry out as she rips your clothing off

“I'm sorry please, I'm sorry forgive me” you plead with heavy tears flowing. ambessa loves rough sex, but this was bordering on torture. You just hoped she would fuck you at some point and not just torture you.

She doesn't respond. She leaves the room and disappears for a good while.

When she comes back, she's in her lacy bra and lacy strap-on thong. She loved showing off her body with crimson lace.

She also has a butt plug. THE butt plug you ordered.

You keep whining and squirming and Ambessa was having NONE of it. She would just love to gag you with-

Why not?

She again disappears and comes back with a ball gag.

Oh, you're fucked. Truly fucked

“you never listen. You just know everything more than me huh?” she asked

but you just whine and sob in response.

She delivers a sharp slap to your already sensitive and wet cunt making you scream out in pain. Your cunt was throbbing excruciatingly now.

She lifts your legs and presses them to your chest, and then she spits on the butt plug and without warning shoves it into your asshole.

Your rectal muscles contract painfully and you can't even push it out.

You plead and beg her for mercy.

But the wolf shows no mercy

She spits on her cock and no matter what you try she just doesn't respond or say anything, you knew she was fucking pissed.

“oh you just don't shut up, do you?” she slaps your cunt again, and again before she reaches for the ball gag.

she roughly takes your chin in between her hands and ties it around your head, she tugs at it to see if it's secured

you could feel how it was pulling your hair and digging into your head, but you couldn't do anything now

“Oh yes, try and mutter and whine all you want. You're not getting out of this” is the last thing you hear before you feel a familiar intrusion in your cunt.

Oh, sweet girl.

This will be a long night.

79 notes · View notes

isa-beenme · 3 days ago

Text

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

And here I close the Archeron sisters chapter, goodbye girrrls you barely showed up but you were very useful thanks

Would love to hear your thoughts about the series now we're getting closer to the end, is there something else you would like to see? Maybe I can fit in here or smt

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, I don't even remeber the original, trauma bonding, Rhysand 📍

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 14: Is This Love

The house was quieter than usual, the kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful, but heavy with things left unsaid. You had been avoiding this moment, not out of fear, or out of resentment, but because you weren’t sure what to say. What could you say to them, after all? But now, standing before the door to their room, you took a slow breath before knocking.

Feyre opened it, her expression unreadable, but when she stepped aside to let you in, you knew she had been waiting for you to come. Nesta and Elain were sitting near the window, bags half-packed beside them. The sight of it twisted something inside your chest.

"You're finally here," Nesta said, her voice as sharp as ever, but there was no true bite to it. Elain just gave you a small, polite smile.

You took a few steps inside, arms crossed as you surveyed them both. They looked different. Not older, but changed in a way that wasn’t just about time, it was something deeper. Maybe it was the abandoning. Maybe it was the war. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened.

Feyre sat down closer to Elain, as if grounding herself. "I've told them everything," she said softly.

You nodded, exhaling slowly. "And?"

Elain hesitated before speaking, her voice gentle. "We understand why you stayed here. Why you never came back to the human lands."

"But that doesn’t mean we agree with it," Nesta added, her tone firm, though not unkind. "You left. Both of you. And we had to figure out how to keep going alone."

Guilt settled in your stomach, even though you knew there hadn’t been another choice. "It was never about abandoning you," you said, meeting Nesta’s gaze directly. "We were trapped in Spring. And when we finally left, Amarantha was already on our heels. We had no time to go back, no time to explain."

Elain looked down at her hands. "We were scared. When the war reached us, when we were taken..." She swallowed. "We thought we would never see you again."

Feyre reached over and squeezed her hand.

You took a step closer. "I should have come to you sooner. I wanted to. But... I was afraid of what I’d find."

Nesta’s expression softened just a fraction. "And now?"

You inhaled. "Now, I just want to make sure you’re safe. If you truly want to return to the human lands, I won’t stop you."

Elain glanced at Nesta before nodding. "We need to go back. We need to see what’s left, and what we can help rebuild in the village."

You understood that. Even if it hurt, even if it felt like losing them all over again.

Feyre looked at you then, something unreadable in her eyes. "Then we’ll make sure you get there safely."

You nodded. It wasn’t the reunion you had imagined. But it was real. And, for now, that was enough.

Nesta's gaze was sharp, piercing straight through you. There was no anger in her voice when she spoke, but there was something else, something that made your throat tighten.

"You never told us," she said. "Not once. Not about being fae. Not about any of this."

Elain looked down, as if she didn’t want to take a side, but Nesta kept her eyes locked on you, waiting.

You swallowed hard. "I—"

"I don't need an excuse," Nesta interrupted, shaking her head. "I just want to know why."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Because I was afraid," you admitted, voice quiet. "Afraid of what you’d think of me. Afraid that, if you knew, it would change things. I wanted to help you, but I didn’t want you to see me as... something else. Something other."

Nesta crossed her arms. "It did change things."

Guilt twisted inside you. "Nesta, I—"

"Don't apologize," she cut in again, surprising you. She exhaled sharply, glancing at Elain before looking back at you. "You showed up in our lives and helped us when no one else did. You gave us food, a house, clothes, even when you didn't have to. That doesn't just disappear because you kept secrets." You blinked, taken aback by her words. "It'll take time," she continued, her voice softer now. "But... I want to see you again. Maybe in the human lands. When things settle."

Your chest ached, something warm and fragile blooming there. "I'd like that."

Nesta gave you one firm nod before turning away, packing up the last of her things. Elain smiled at you, something hesitant but real, before she followed. You took a slow breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“There’s something else,” you said, voice firm, making both Nesta and Elain turn back to you. “Before you go, you need to apologize to Feyre.”

Nesta’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said, crossing your arms. “You need to apologize to her. She was the only one who stepped up. The only one who did something for all of you.”

Elain shifted uncomfortably. “We were doing our best—”

“Were you?” You tilted your head. “If I wasn’t there, would you have let a fourteen-year-old go into the woods, alone, to hunt for your survival?”

Silence. Nesta’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer. Elain looked away.

You exhaled sharply. “That’s what I thought.”

Nesta shook her head, as if trying to fight back the words forming in her throat. “It was—”

“Don’t say it was different,” you cut in. “It wasn’t. She had no choice. And you two let it happen. You never thanked her for it. Never thank me for it until now. Never acknowledged what she sacrificed so you could stay comfortable in that cottage.” Elain bit her lip. Nesta’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “She deserves to hear it,” you said, softer now. “She deserves to know you understand.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Nesta exhaled through her nose, tilting her chin up. She turned toward the doorway, where Feyre stood, watching.

“We should have helped you,” Nesta said, voice steady but low. “We should have done more.”

Elain’s eyes were glassy as she nodded. “We’re sorry, Feyre.”

Feyre didn’t speak right away. Her expression was unreadable, but then, after a long pause, she simply said, “Thank you.”

It wasn’t everything, but it was a start. You let out a slow breath, taking in the moment before speaking again.

“There’s still a lot for us to figure out,” you admitted, glancing between the three of them. “As a family. But we’ll be watching from a distance. There’s time to heal, and time to learn how to love. No rush.”

Nesta didn’t say anything, but her eyes flickered with something unreadable. Elain gave a small, hesitant smile.

Then, as if a light switched on in your head, you brightened. “But enough of this heavy talk, how’s the wedding planning going?”

Elain’s face lit up instantly, her shoulders losing their tension. “Oh! There’s still so much to do, but I think we’ve finally chosen the flowers.”

Nesta crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Finally? You’ve been debating them for weeks.”

Elain huffed. “It’s important! The arrangements set the tone for the whole atmosphere.”

You grinned as they started to bicker over details, the tension in the room lifting as the conversation shifted to colors, music, and dress fittings.

Feyre leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

You turned to her, and she gave you a small, knowing smile. You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a quiet side hug. “Always.”

☆

Velaris was bathed in the golden glow of sunset as Lucien and Feyre strolled through the city, the quiet hum of life around them adding to the peacefulness of the evening. Lucien held her hand gently, tracing small patterns against her skin with his thumb, but she could feel the slight tension in his grip.

“My mother reached out to me,” he said suddenly, voice softer than usual. “She told me something… unexpected.”

Feyre turned to him, tilting her head. “What is it?”

Lucien let out a small breath, gathering himself. “Beron… wasn’t my father.”

Feyre blinked. “What?”

“It’s Helion. Helion is my father.” His golden eye flickered with emotion. “Which makes me his only heir.”

Feyre squeezed his hand, not saying anything yet, letting him continue.

“I talked to Rhys and to your cousin. I want to spend some time in Day Court. To get to know him. To… understand where I come from. Maybe learn or something…” His voice was steady, but she could hear the hesitation beneath it.

“But?” she prompted gently.

Lucien swallowed, stopping in his tracks to face her fully. “But I don’t want to leave you behind. I don’t want to miss you again.” His free hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to see you getting better at fighting. I want to hear you reading those ridiculous romance books out loud just to annoy me when you practice your reading. I want to be with you, Feyre, and I barely have time with you before I need to leave again.”

Her heart swelled, but she knew where this was going. “Lucien—”

“But I also don’t want to take you away from your family so soon,” he admitted, his eyes searching hers for any hint of disappointment. “I know how much they mean to you. I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve finally found your people, and I don’t want to be the one to pull you away from them.”

Feyre smiled then, something warm and knowing. “Lucien.” She reached up, cupping his face, tracing her thumb over his cheek. “I want you to go.”

He looked startled. “You do?”

“I do.” She nodded. “You need this. You deserve this. And just the fact that you’re giving me the choice, that you’re worrying about me at all, already gives me the answer I needed.” Lucien exhaled, something deep and relieved. Feyre grinned. “Besides, I’ll want to visit Day Court anyway once this court is settled. I want to be with you fully, and I know you’ll come back to me. We have eternity, don’t we?”

Lucien chuckled, his grip on her tightening slightly. “That we do.”

“And while you’re away, I’ll finally have the chance to focus on my writing without you distracting me.”

He barked out a laugh. “Oh, please. You love the distraction.”

She hummed, pressing closer. “Maybe.”

He smiled, eyes bright, before capturing her lips in a kiss, slow and deep, promising and sure.

A few rooftops away, you leaned against Rhysand’s shoulder, spooning another bite of ice cream into your mouth as you watched them from a distance.

“I told you they were getting together,” you said smugly.

Rhys rolled his eyes, stealing a bite from your cup. “Of course you were right. She’s your cousin. You had inside information.”

“Then why did you argue with me about it?” you teased, bumping your hip against his.

Rhys smirked. “I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to argue with you.”

You snorted, setting your ice cream aside to kiss his cheek. “In a few hundred years, maybe you’ll finally win an argument against me, darling.”

He scoffed, but you could feel the love radiating through the bond as he pulled you closer, both of you watching as Feyre and Lucien melted into each other below.

☆

Velaris was blanketed in soft snow, the kind that made everything look as if it had been dipped in sugar. The House of Wind, high above the city, was glowing with warmth, the large sitting room flickering with the light of the fireplace and the laughter of the Inner Circle, plus Lucien, plus Helion, who had decided to spend the time before winter solstice with them.

"You all claim this is just a casual, friendly evening," Helion drawled, sipping a rich, golden liquor, "but the weird tension in this room says otherwise. You all are too competitive for me."

Cassian, already sprawled across the rug like a lazy cat, grinned. "Oh, no, we’re always friendly. Just not when there’s prizes involved."

"You’re just mad because you lost last time," you teased, settling into one of the armchairs.

Cassian scoffed. "That was not a loss. It was sabotage. Tell your mate that it doesn't matter if he's the High Lord of the court, he's not the High Lord of the games."

"Ah, so now we're finally admitting Rhys uses the ‘High Lord Card’ whenever he’s close to losing," Mor smirked, swirling her wine.

Azriel, quiet as always, only raised a brow, the faintest hint of amusement on his face.

"He absolutely does," you confirmed, grinning at Rhys, who lounged on the couch beside you with an arm draped over your shoulders.

Rhys tsked. "I have never—"

Feyre snorted. "You winnowed behind Cassian last time and tied his shoelaces together. Mid-round."

"That's just strategy," Rhys countered smoothly.

Helion let out a bark of laughter, clearly delighted. "You all are insane. I should visit more often."

Mor clapped her hands. "Alright, let’s get to it! Since we’re being fair—" she shot Rhys a look, "—no powers, no winnowing, no mind games."

"You’re taking all the fun out of it," Rhys said, feigning disappointment.

"You’re just upset that you can’t cheat," you murmured, leaning into him.

“Once you're High Lady you'll understand the necessity of winning against these fools” he slightly bit your ear, kissing it after.

The games began with something easy. Charades, a safe warm-up before things got too heated. It was immediately chaos.

Cassian nearly fell over trying to mimic a swan.

"How is that a swan?!" Mor cackled, "You look like you're being chased by lightning!”

And Helion, surprisingly, was very good at guessing. When you acted out a lion, he barely took a second before exclaiming, "The manticore we fought in Day Court!"

Lucien groaned. "I was there, how did I not get that first?"

Rhys, to your eternal amusement, was terrible at it. His dramatics were almost too much.

"I swear this is a book!" he cried, miming flipping pages aggressively.

Azriel, deadpan, "It looks like you're throttling a chicken."

Mor was howling with laughter, Cassian actually had tears in his eyes, and even Azriel looked close to smiling.

Helion leaned toward you. "Are these nights always like this?"

You grinned. "Oh, this is nothing. Just wait until we break out the card games."

Next came the real competition: Cards Against Velaris.

Helion, having never played before, was delighted. "This is the true reason you invited me, isn’t it? To corrupt my innocent mind?"

Lucien muttered, "Innocent is not the word I’d use for you."

To no one’s surprise, Azriel had the darkest humor.

"Az," Cassian wheezed, clutching his stomach, "how—how did you even come up with that?!"

Azriel merely shrugged, sipping his wine. "It fits the prompt."

Mor was losing it, Rhys was nearly crying with laughter, and you swore Helion was actually wiping tears from his eyes.

"I am so stealing this game for Day Court," he declared.

The next round was truth or dare, which, with your family group, was a terrible idea.

"Lucien," Mor grinned wickedly, "truth or dare?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Truth."

A wicked glint. "How many times have you fantasized about Feyre since meeting her?"

Lucien choked on his drink. "That is not—"

“Oh, please. Not in front of me” you hid your face in Rhysand’s back, not wanting to hear any of that.

"You picked the truth, fire boy."

“If you answer this, Lucien, my first decision will be to ban you from this court” You screamed at him.

Rhysand sighed, rubbing his temples. "We are never playing this game again."

By the time the night started winding down, everyone was exhausted from laughter, full from the feast laid out earlier, and thoroughly entertained.

You curled against Rhys on the couch, his arms wrapped around you, watching as Mor and Cassian tried (and failed) to balance spoons on their noses.

"That was a good night," Rhys murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair.

You hummed, turning to look up at him. "I think they just wanted an excuse to keep me distracted before the coronation."

His smile was soft, filled with something warm and unspoken. "Maybe. But they also just love having you here. Having us all together."

Your heart ached in the best way. As the fire crackled and the laughter still echoed in the air, you knew, this was love.

☆

The temple was quiet in the late afternoon light, the golden sun casting long shadows across the ancient stone. You and Rhysand walked side by side, your steps echoing softly against the marble floors. The air smelled of aged parchment, of sacred incense, of prayers whispered through generations.

This temple was older than Velaris itself, older than any living fae in the city. It had stood through wars, through peace, through centuries of change. And yet, it remained, like the beating heart of the Night Court, carrying its traditions, its people’s memories, their hopes and faith. You traced your fingers along the edge of a carved pillar, feeling the weight of its history.

Rhys watched you, his expression softer than usual. “You love this place,” he murmured.

You nodded. “I do. It’s a reminder of everything we’ve fought to protect.”

He hummed in agreement. “Sometimes, I think about what it was like before, before Velaris was a sanctuary, before we could walk these halls without fear.” His violet eyes darkened slightly. “And I think of what it means now, to be here. To be able to stand before this temple and choose how we honor our people. To choose peace.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “I love this court,” you said quietly, your fingers still tracing the stone. “I love everything about it. Its history, its resilience, its people.”

Rhys tilted his head, waiting for you to continue.

“I love how the mountains hold stories older than any of us,” you went on. “How every street in Velaris carries laughter, music, and art. How Illyrian warriors, even with all their flaws, still fight for what they believe in. How our people celebrate life, how, even after war, after loss, they choose to move forward. How they wake up every day and make this place feel like home.”

Rhys was quiet for a long moment, just watching you. Then he whispered, “Tell me more.”

You turned to face him fully, your chest tight with emotion. “I love our traditions,” you said, voice barely above a breath. “The old ones, the new ones. The ones we create just by being together. I love how, even in the darkest of times, we dance under the stars every year during a whole night just to celebrate life. How we paint our hopes into the world. How we hold feasts not just for the powerful, but for everyone. How we remember those who came before us, and how we build a future for those who will come after.”

Rhys reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And what do you love now?”

You swallowed, your mind swirling with all the different kinds of love you had discovered. “There are so many ways to love,” you murmured. “I think I’m only just realizing it.”

Rhys didn’t interrupt, letting you untangle your thoughts out loud.

“I love my cousins,” you said, exhaling softly. “Even if our history is a little turbulent. Even if they’re still learning how to love me in return. It’s a complicated love, but it’s still love. It’s in the way we argue, in the way we fight to understand each other. In the way we try, even when it’s hard.”

Rhys nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“I love the way Lucien and Feyre love each other,” you said, smiling at the thought of them. “They’re just starting something, but it’s something sweet and pure. I can see it in the way they look at each other, in the way they talk. It’s like watching the first snow of winter, delicate and full of wonder. And I love them enough to be patient with them, to let them find their own way, their own happiness.”

You squeezed Rhys’s hand.

“I love our friends. Our family,” you whispered. “Cassian, Mor, Azriel. I loved Amren. Even Helion sometimes, in some strange way.” Rhys huffed a quiet laugh at that. “They are home in a way I never expected. They make this court feel like something more than just a responsibility. They make it a joy.”

Rhys kissed the top of your head, his voice a low murmur. “And what about the court itself?”

Your chest ached with how much you felt for it.

“I love it,” you said simply. “Not just as a place, but as a people. As a dream that keeps going, even when it’s been shattered before. As a promise we make, over and over again, to build something better. I love it enough to fight for it, to earn my place in it, rather than just take it. I love it enough to stay.”

Rhys swallowed, as if your words had struck something deep within him. You smiled up at him. “And I love you.”

His violet eyes darkened. “Me?”

You nodded. “I love you in a way I didn’t know was possible. In a way that feels endless. In the way the stars love the sky, the way the ocean loves the moon, like it was always meant to be.”

Rhys cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His voice was barely a whisper. “You undo me.”

You let out a small laugh, blinking back the burning in your eyes. But then you inhaled deeply, your voice turning softer. “And I also love those who aren’t here anymore,” you murmured.

Rhys stilled, his grip on you tightening.

“I love my mother,” you said. “Even if she’s gone. I love the friends we lost, the people who gave their lives for this court. Love doesn’t disappear just because someone is no longer standing beside us.” You gestured to the temple. “That’s why this place matters. It’s proof that love doesn’t fade, it remains. In our traditions, in our stories, in the choices we make every day.”

Rhys pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re going to be a great High Lady,” he murmured.

You exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of it all. “Only because I have you beside me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you fully, his gaze fierce. “Always.”

Rhys’s fingers tightened around yours as you stood in the sacred silence. Your words still hung between you, your love for this court, for its people, for him. But there was one more name that hadn’t been spoken yet, one more love that still lived in the deepest parts of your heart.

You took a slow breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I also loved your sister like she was mine.”

Rhys stilled completely. His entire body locked up, as if the world had stopped moving. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “What?”

You turned to face him fully, gripping his hands. “Your sister.” You swallowed, emotion tightening your throat. “Selene.”

His breath hitched, his violet eyes wide, startled, like you had just spoken a ghost into existence. Rhys staggered back a step, his grip on you slackening. “How do you—”

“I knew her,” you interrupted softly. “I grew up with her. Your mother and mine were friends.”

Rhys’s chest rose and fell sharply, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the way his mind reeled through the bond, through the weight of all the memories rushing back at once. So you told him.

Because once, many years ago, someone had whispered stories about him in the dark.

Tales of the Night Court's heir. The half-breed with violet eyes and a silver tongue. The boy who laughed at the rules of his Court, who danced in the shadows and played wicked games with hearts and minds alike.

He had been nothing but a name back then. A distant legend told between stolen giggles through drunk females in bars and hushed gossip your mother’s friends told her in secret dinners.

So he'd never been a stranger to you.

You had stopped to hear the stories whispered in firelit rooms by your best friend long before Prythian had become your prison of torture and grief.

Had listened to a young female with dark hair and a quick tongue speak of the male with shadows in his veins and a crown he never wanted, how he lied to keep the appearances, how he protected his mother from his father, how he would be the best High Lord she would ever have the pleasure to see.

You remembered the way her eyes had glowed when she spoke his name—Rhysand—as if he were something out of a dream that she hoped to witness.

Rhys’s breath was ragged now, his hands trembling as they reached for yours again, as if he needed to hold onto something solid before the weight of memory crushed him.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

Tears burned at the back of your throat. “She never stopped talking about you when we were kids.”

Rhys let out a shaking breath, his knees nearly buckling.

“She told me about how you used to take her flying, even when your father forbade it,” you continued, voice thick with grief. “How you used to sneak her out of the estate to watch the stars, how you would read to her when she had nightmares. She told me how you always lied to keep her safe. How you bore the brunt of your father’s rage to protect your mother, to protect her.”

Rhys’s jaw clenched, his eyes shimmering with something raw, something broken.

“She told me you would be the best High Lord the Night Court had ever seen.” Your voice wavered. “And she was so proud of you, Rhys. Even back then, before you ever put on the crown, she knew.”

Rhys let out a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh, his head dropping forward. His hands came up to his face, as if trying to hold himself together.

“I tried to protect her,” he whispered.

Your throat tightened. “I know.”

“I tried,” he said again, his voice cracking. “I tried, I tried, I tried.”

You reached for him, pulling him into your arms, and he shattered. Rhys sank against you, his body trembling as silent sobs wracked his frame. His hands clutched at you as if you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart entirely. And you held him.

For the boy who had once danced in the shadows. For the sister who had whispered his name like a prayer. For the love that still lingered, even after centuries of loss.

“I miss her,” he whispered against your shoulder. “Every gods-damned day.”

“I know,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his hair.

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s grief, in each other’s love. And then, finally, Rhys pulled back just enough to look at you, his violet eyes still glassy, but steadier now.

“My mother would have loved you,” he whispered.

You smiled, even as fresh tears burned your eyes. “She did.”

Rhys let out a choked laugh, cupping your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“We’ll heal together,” you promised softly.

He nodded, exhaling shakily. “Together.”

And as the temple stood around you, ancient and unwavering, you knew, this love, this grief, this family, it would never be forgotten. It would remain in the shambles of this temple, in the history of this court, in the wind carried to the new generation. Love is all that remains, after all.

Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-18 @willowpains @xelladarlingx @lucilia9teen @lifetobeareader @hjgdhghoe @carmenadkins78 @lreadsstuff @oiolabomdia @jaybbygrl @traiitorjoe

#Spotify #acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #rhysand #rhysand acotar #reader insert

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smoooothoperator · 2 days ago

Text

Rewrite The Stars

06: Story Of My Life

Lando Norris x surgeon!OC (Lyra Montgomery)

runnaway bride, forbidden love, destinated lovers, love triangle, second chance, road trip, slow burn

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Lando & Lyra POV, basically their friendship, COVID, drama

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a/n: Sooooo... This part is like a transition for the next chapters, so you all ccan understand their history

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Every way of feedback is very welcomed

2013. 13 years old.

🩺

The classroom smelled exactly how a room full of teenagers that came from an hour of P.E. would smell: a nauseous mix of sweat, deodorant and perfume. My legs still felt heavy from the sprints our teacher had forced us to run, and my ponytail was messy with a few loose strands sticking to my face.

I dropped into my seat, barely paying attention to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as everyone settled in. But then, he sat down next to me.

Lando Norris.

It wasn’t the first time we had been paired together for projects, but it was the first time we had to sit next to each other in class. Usually, we only interacted casually, flirting as a joke, teasing each other for fun… But now, stuck side by side in the same desk, neither of us seemed to know how to act.

For once, he wasn’t saying anything.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His uniform jacket was hanging on the chair, his hair was still damp from sweating in the sun, and he was tapping his pencil against his notebook like he was already bored out of his mind.

The teacher started talking, explaining the exercise we had to complete before the end of the lesson. Something about reading comprehension, analyzing a passage, and answering a set of questions.

Easy enough.

I lowered my gaze to my worksheet, filling out the first answer quickly, but as I moved on to the next, something caught my attention.

Lando hadn’t written anything.

His pencil was clenched tightly in his hand, tapping erratically against the desk, but his eyes kept darting between the exercise and the textbook, his brows furrowed like he was trying to decode the words instead of just reading them.

For the first time, I actually noticed him.

The way his fingers traced over the sentences, the way he blinked hard, like the letters were shifting in front of him.

The way his jaw tightened just a little, frustration creeping into his expression.

I hesitated for a second, unsure if I should say anything, but then, before I could stop myself, I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.

“Do you want to do it together?”

Lando’s head snapped toward me, startled. He blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for the first time ever, he didn’t have a sarcastic comeback waiting for me.

“I-” he hesitated, glancing down at his paper before looking back at me. His usual confidence faltered just slightly, replaced by something more uncertain. “It’s fine. I just-”he cut himself off, sighing loudly. “I’m just slow at this.”

I tilted my head, studying him for a moment before moving my notebook a little closer to the middle of the desk and shifting slightly to be closer to him.

“I’ll read them out loud” I offered. “And then we can figure out the answers together.”

Lando’s fingers twitched around his pencil, and for a second, I thought he was going to refuse.

But then, slowly, he nodded.

When we got to the questions, I didn’t rush. I wrote my answer slowly, leaving space in case he wanted to copy it down. But instead, he nudged my elbow.

“Wait” he muttered, pointing at one of the sentences I had underlined. “That part, why did you mark it?”

“Because it explains the main idea. That’s what the first question is asking for.” I said, tracing the sentence with my finger.

We worked through the questions together. I made sure not to rush him, giving him time to process the words, helping whenever he hesitated. At first, he was a little tense, like he was waiting for me to get frustrated, but when I didn’t, he started to relax.

And then, before I even realized it, the awkward silence between us shifted.

Instead of tension, there was something easier, lighter. I made a joke about the ridiculous scenario in one of the problems, and Lando actually laughed. He made some teasing comment about my handwriting being too good, and I rolled my eyes, nudging his arm with my elbow.

The teasing was different now. Less forced. Less of a game.

We were just talking.

And by the time we finished the last question, something between us had changed. Neither of us said it out loud, but I think we both knew.

This was the start of something.

2015. 15 years old.

🏎️

The roar of engines filled the air, a constant, loud hum that vibrated through my chest as I stood near the grid. My helmet hung loosely in my grip, fingers tightening around the edge as I tried to focus, to breathe.

It wasn’t my first race. Hell, I have done this before, I won before. But something about today felt different. Maybe it was the fact that this was Formula 4 Britain, the step that actually mattered. Maybe it was because I had more to prove, more eyes on me than ever before.

Or maybe, maybe, it was because of her.

I turned my head slightly, my eyes scanning the small group of people standing near the paddock. My friends and family were there, chatting, waiting for the race to start, but my focus locked onto Lyra.

She stood with her arms crossed, wearing my hoodie because she complained about being too cold. Her orange hair was up, loose strands falling against her face as she listened to whatever conversation was happening around her, but I could tell she was watching me.

Just like she always did since that class where she helped me.

I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders before she caught me staring, but it was too late.

Her gaze flickered to mine, and she immediately tilted her head, green eyes narrowing slightly in that way she always did when she knew something was up.

A second later, she was walking toward me.

"You're nervous" she said, standing next to me and looking at the car.

"Nah" I huffed, laughing and shaking my head.

“Lando…”

The way she said my name sent a shiver down my spine, but I ignored it, biting the inside of my cheek.

I wanted to act like I was fine, like I had everything under control, but the way she was looking at me made it impossible to lie.

"Fine. Maybe a little" I sighed.

"You always do this, you know?" she said, crossing her arms again, nudging me softly with her hip. "You overthink, you get in your head, and then-"

"I go out there and win?" I finished for her, lifting a brow and smirking.

“Exactly” she chuckled.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The noise of the track surrounded us, but somehow, standing there with her, everything felt quieter. She reached out to the sleeves of my race suit, helping me put them on, and zipping it up to my neck.

“You’ll be fine” she said with a smile.

“Yeah? You sound pretty sure.” I smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“Because you always are. You can have the worst start in the world, and somehow, you still find a way to win.” she sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

I smiled weakly and nodded. She’s right, it’s not the first time something like that happened to me.

“Do me a favor. Try not to crash, yeah? I don’t feel like visiting you in the hospital.” she smirked, taking a step back when the staff of my team asked her to move away.

“Noted!” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

I don’t remember every second of the race, it blurred together in flashes of speed, the sound of tires against asphalt, and the adrenaline rush of pushing the car to its limits. Every nerve in my body was on fire, every reflex sharp, every instinct screaming at me to go faster, to win.

And I did.

When I crossed the finish line, the feeling hit me all at once: victory, relief, pure euphoria.

And then, as soon as I pulled into the pit lane and climbed out of the car, the first thing I saw wasn’t my team, it wasn't the trophy waiting for me.

It was her.

Lyra Montgomery.

Standing just past the barriers, hands cupped around her mouth as she shouted something I couldn’t hear over the noise. Her eyes were bright, her smile wide, and for a moment, everything else faded.

The world was loud, but she was the only thing I could focus on.

I pulled off my helmet, my pulse still racing, and as I locked eyes with her, something in my chest tightened. It was different this time. The way she looked at me, the way I felt when I saw her standing there.

The crush I had tried so hard to ignore?

It was no longer an innocent crush.

It was way worse.

2016. 16 years old.

🩺

The streets were alive with movement, buzzing with the energy of a city that never seemed to sleep. Lights glowed from shop windows, casting a golden hue on the streets as we walked. Lando was beside me, hands shoved into the pockets of a hoodie I wore many times, the hood pulled up just enough to cover his messy curls. Our friends were a few steps ahead, laughing about something I hadn’t caught, too lost in my own thoughts.

We spent the entire day exploring, getting lost in the streets, stopping at cafés that smelled like fresh pastries and coffee, taking stupid pictures in front of every tourist attraction we could find. It had been fun, the kind of carefree, weightless fun that made me forget about everything else.

But even through the laughter, the teasing and the stupid inside jokes, something had felt off.

And it had everything to do with the boy walking next to me.

Lando and I had always been close. Best friends. His family always invited me to have dinner every Friday, his sisters and I go shopping together from time to time. But lately, things have been… different. It wasn’t just me. I knew he felt it too. The way we’d catch each other staring a little too long, the way his teasing had changed and became less playful, but more intense. The way I could feel his eyes on me when I wasn’t looking.

It was confusing. And I hated being confused.

We made it back to the hotel just before curfew, sneaking past teachers who were definitely too tired to care that we had spent an extra hour outside. But none of us were ready to sleep. Not yet.

That’s how we ended up on the roof.

We sat in a circle, passing around snacks we bought, feeling the night air crisp against our skin. Someone played music from a speaker, low enough that it blended with the distant sounds of cars and late-night conversations from the streets below.

At some point, our friends started to disappear, one by one, slipping away to their rooms, exhausted from the day. Until it was just us.

Just me and Lando.

Alone.

I leaned back on my hands, staring at the sky, feeling the silence settle between us. Not awkward. Just… heavy.

“You’ve been weird lately” Lando said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Me? You’re the one who’s been acting weird.” I sighed, glaring at him.

He scoffed, shaking his head, but there was no real annoyance behind it. He was thinking. Hard. I know him.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just sat there, running a hand through his hair before finally letting out a breath.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” I whisper, nodding slowly.

He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure how to say it. And then:

“Do you ever think about us?”

I froze. My fingers curled against the material of my skirt, my heartbeat slamming against my ribs.

“Us?” I repeated, my voice quieter now.

“Yeah” he turned to face me, his blue eyes catching the glow of the city lights. “Because I do. And I don’t know what the hell it means, but I-” he exhaled, shaking his head. “I just wanted to know if you feel it too.”

I do.

I had been feeling it for months, but I had buried it, pushed it down so deep I had almost convinced myself it wasn’t real. Because if I admitted it, it would change everything.

I looked at him, at the way he was watching me, waiting. And before I could stop myself, before I could think it through…

I kissed him.

It was soft, hesitant. Just a brush of lips, but God, it was enough to send my heart into a complete freefall. Lando sucked in a sharp breath, and for a second, neither of us moved.

Then he kissed me back.

It wasn’t like I had imagined, not that I had imagined it, obviously. But it was gentle, careful in a way I hadn’t expected. Like he was afraid I would disappear if he wasn’t.

But then, reality crashed in.

I pulled away suddenly, breathless, my mind racing too fast to process anything other than pure panic.

“No” I whispered.

“What?”

“No, this-” I shook my head, hating the way my chest ached just saying the words. “We’re friends. We- This can’t happen again”

His brows furrowed, his expression shifting into something I couldn’t handle seeing. Confusion, pain…

“Lyra-”

“I have to go.”

I scrambled to my feet, avoiding his gaze, and without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him sitting there alone on the rooftop.

And I knew, deep down, that nothing between us would ever be simple again.

2019. 19 years old.

🏎️

I don’t know why I had been trying to convince myself that I didn’t care. Maybe because pretending was easier. Maybe because admitting the truth, that watching Lyra with someone else felt like a knife between my ribs was too painful.

But all of that pretending went straight to hell the second I found out he was cheating on her.

I hadn’t meant to find out, actually.

It wasn’t like I was out there searching for proof that her relationship was a disaster waiting to happen.

It just happened.

One of my friends mentioned seeing him, pressed up against some girl at a bar across town. Then another one said they saw him before, doing the same thing with a different gorl. And suddenly, it wasn’t just one rumor. It was the kind of truth that spread through whispers until it became undeniable.

I spent hours pacing my apartment, thinking if I should tell her or not. Because I knew how it would sound coming from me, the best friend who never liked him in the first place. The guy who had every reason to want to see him gone.

But the second I saw her that night, laughing at something he had said, trusting him, I couldn’t keep it to myself.

Lyra didn’t believe me at first.

She had just stared at me, arms crossed, brows furrowed, anger written all over her face. And fuck, that hurt.

"You’re just saying this because you never liked him" she had snapped.

"Because he’s a dickhead” I had corrected, voice sharp. “And now I have proof.”

I had shown her the pictures, sent by Max, who had been at the bar, who had seen it happen in real time. And then, just like that, something cracked in her expression. Like she had been holding onto some fragile piece of hope, and I had just shattered it in my hands.

She didn’t say anything after that. Just turned and walked away.

And now, hours later, she was here.

Standing in my front door.

I opened the door to find her standing there, her eyes red-rimmed, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"Hey," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"I didn’t know where else to go."

That sentence alone was enough to send my heart into freefall.

I stepped aside, letting her in, watching as she walked past me and into my house like she had a hundred times before. She went straight to the couch, curling up in the corner, pulling her knees to her chest.

I sat down next to her, leaving just enough space between us to pretend like I wasn’t aching to pull her into me.

"So… what happened?" I asked carefully.

Lyra exhaled, shaking her head. Then after a few seconds of silence, she spoke.

"I confronted him."

"And?"

"He tried to lie” she let out a humorless laugh, wiping away an angry tear with the fist of her, actually mine, hoodie. “Then, when he realized I wasn’t buying his bullshit, he started apologizing. Saying it was a mistake. That it didn’t mean anything" she swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the floor. "Like that made it better."

I clenched my jaw, fingers twitching with the need to hit something.

"You deserve better than that" I said.

"Yeah, well. Clearly, I have terrible taste in guys." she scoffed.

I looked at her then, really looked at her, and the words burned on my tongue.

Not all guys. Not me. I wouldn’t hurt you like that.

But I didn’t say them.

Because it didn’t matter.

Because I already knew what she would say if I did.

Instead, I just leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly.

"You wanna stay here tonight?"

"Yeah. I think I do." she whispered. “I hate driving at night”

That should have made me feel better. It should have made me feel important, knowing I was the one she ran to when everything went to shit instead of going to one of her sister's houses, or even hiding in her parent's house.

But all it did was make me feel more miserable.

Because I will always be the shoulder she will need to cry, nothing more.

2020. 20 years old.

🩺

The world outside was quiet. Too quiet. The streets of London, usually buzzing with life, now felt like an empty shell of the city I had come to know. The pandemic had shut everything down, forcing people indoors, forcing us to adapt to a version of life that none of us were prepared for.

My parents and both my sisters were working all day in the hospital, and since I didn’t have any chance of having experience in hospitals, I couldn’t join them, not even live with them in case something happened.

And somehow, in the middle of all that uncertainty, I had ended up living with Lando.

It wasn’t planned. Nothing about it had been. When my student housing had abruptly closed, and flights or trains to go back home were impossible, Lando had offered without hesitation. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe, for him, it was.

But for me?

Living under the same roof as Lando, spending every second of every day together, was dangerous.

Because we had always been complicated since that night on the rooftop.

And now, we had nowhere to run.

At first, it was easy. Comfortable, even. We settled into a routine with late mornings, lazy breakfasts, him streaming for hours while I studied or read on the couch, nights spent watching movies, playing games together.

Then, at some point, things started to shift.

The space between us got smaller. The casual touches lasted longer. The teasing became something heavier, something that made my skin burn. The way he looked at me changed, or maybe I had just started noticing it more.

And then, one night, we stopped pretending.

It started with a conversation, one we had probably been avoiding for weeks.

We were sitting on the couch, a movie playing in the background, both pretending to watch but neither of us paying attention. My legs were stretched over his lap, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on my ankle. The air between us was charged, tense, thick with something unspoken.

"I think I’m losing my mind" I admitted, tilting my head back against the cushions.

Lando chuckled, shifting slightly.

"That makes two of us."

"No, seriously! It’s been, what? Nearly two months in lockdown? I swear, if I don’t find something to do, I’m going to-" I cut myself off, immediately regretting my choice of words when I saw the slow smirk spreading across his face.

"Something to do, huh?" his voice was teasing, but there was something else in his eyes. Something that made my stomach tighten.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close we were, of the way his fingers were still resting on my leg, of the way my heart was pounding wildly in my chest.

It wasn’t the first time we had ended up like this, locked in some invisible tug-of-war, stuck in a moment that felt like it could tip over the edge at any second. But usually, one of us would break it. Make a joke, create some distance, act like nothing has happened.

This time, neither of us moved.

"I’m just saying" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "If you didn’t rush me to pack my things, I could have something to solve this thing"

"What kind of thing?" his smirk didn’t fade.

"You know exactly what I mean."

There was a pause, the kind that stretched too long, the kind that made it impossible to breathe.

Then, Lando shifted, turning to face me fully, his expression unreadable.

"So, what? You want to be quarantine fuck buddies now?"

I let out a laugh, but it came out too breathless, too shaky.

“Sure” I said before I could stop and think.

And I meant it, but at the same time, I didn’t.

Lando arched an eyebrow, his smirk turning into something more serious.

"No feelings" he said, looking into my eyes. “And no regrets”

"None" I lied.

His gaze flickered down to my lips for a fraction of a second before he met my eyes again.

"You sure about that?"

No.

But I nodded anyway.

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t soft, or hesitant, like the first kiss we had years ago. It was hungry, like we had been waiting too long, like we were both starving for it.

I barely registered him pulling me onto his lap, my knees bracketing his hips, my hands tangling in his curls. His fingers pressed into my waist, holding me in place as his mouth moved against mine, deep and needy.

We weren’t thinking.

We weren’t worrying about what this would mean tomorrow, or the day after that.

Right now, there was only this.

His hands slipped under the hoodie and the second his fingers met my bare skin, I gasped.

"Fuck" he muttered against my lips. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

I didn’t.

I didn’t want to stop.

"Don’t” I whispered.

His response was immediate, his lips trailing down my neck, his hands gripping my hips tighter, pulling me closer.

And for the first time in years, I let myself not think about the consequences.

But I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

Because the moment it was over, the moment I was lying there in his bed, reality hit me like a fucking freight train.

Because he didn’t feel the same way anymore. Right?

I had spent so much time convincing myself that my feelings for Lando were long gone, buried somewhere beneath years of friendship. But as I turned my head and watched him, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths, his face relaxed in the dim light, I knew.

I was falling for him, again.

And this time, it was worse.

Because now, he didn’t feel the same.

Because now, I was just a distraction.

2021. 21 years old.

🩺

I wasn’t stupid.

I knew that what had happened between Lando and me during the lockdown wasn’t supposed to mean anything. That was the entire of being fuck buddies.

And yet, somehow, it had still left a mark on me.

Maybe it was because, after that first night, we kept falling into it, late at night when the house was too quiet, when we couldn’t keep pretending that there wasn’t something between us. Maybe it was because, even after lockdown ended, even after life started moving again, the tension between us never truly went away and we continued doing it.

But we never talked about it.

We just let it happen, hanging between us like an unfinished conversation.

Until, one day, it stopped completely.

The day that changed everything.

It was a random afternoon in August, just another day of scrolling through Instagram while I was lying on my couch, too exhausted after my hospital shift to do anything else. My feet were sore, my eyes heavy, but then I saw it.

The picture of Lando with her. Her hands hugging his neck and his hands on her lower back, his smile easy, relaxed, like nothing in the world was complicated for him. They were standing in the middle of a beach club.

And I realized something that shattered me.

I hadn’t even known he was gone.

For the first time since we met, he had gone on a trip without even telling me his plans.

I wasn’t there.

And she was.

I stared at the picture for too long, my heart squeezing painfully in my chest, something sharp and ugly clawing its way up my throat. Because this was the moment I finally understood.

I had been waiting for him.

And he had already moved on.

I locked my phone, tossed it onto the coffee table, and forced myself to breathe.

This was what I had wanted, right? For things to go back to normal? For us to forget about what happened during lockdown?

So why did it feel like something inside me had just broken?

I had to stop this. Now.

Whatever I thought I felt for Lando, whatever had been lingering between us, I had to let it go.

I refused to be that girl, the one who sat around waiting, the one who let herself get caught up in something that was never meant to be.

Lando had moved on.

And so would I.

I met Edward a few weeks later.

It was one of those chance encounters, the kind that only happened in movies.

He lived in the apartment next to mine, had just moved in a few months ago. He was older, confident in a way that felt different from the boys I had known before. He was easy to talk to, made me laugh, made me feel wanted in a way I hadn’t in a long time.

And most importantly: he wasn’t Lando.

So when he asked me out, I said yes.

And when one date turned into two, then five, then months of falling into something comfortable, I told myself it was enough.

Because this was what I needed.

Someone who chose me. Someone I can settle down with.

And if there was a tiny voice in the back of my mind, whispering that something was missing.

I ignored it.

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artist-issues · 6 hours ago

Note

do you think that it’s bad for a people group to keep thinking about the impact slavery had on them in the past?

I think the only utility in it is learning your history: that mankind is depraved and can sell and buy one another, and treat one another like less-than-human, and so watch out for the signs that a society is starting to blur the line about what makes a human a human in the image of God.

and that’s it.

I have a friend who said something really good about this when we went to Togo. After we visited the historical site where the Togolese sold one another to the colonists and saw the places where those people were treated like hated cattle, we were discussing the topic. But my friend just sat there and didn’t join in. And we were all kind of wanting her to, because her family has lived in our hometown for generations, and our hometown was on the map at the historical site where the Togolese were sold out of. So you know. Odds are, her ancestors were from there, where we were standing. Or at least they suffered the same fate from ports like it all up and down the African coast. We wanted to hear her thoughts in particular. But she didn’t say anything.

And afterward I was nagging her about it, I was like, “you have to say something in moments like that, we all want to hear you!”

And she (is not your ordinary person) just laughed at me and said, “I knew it! Every time one of you said something (about the historical site and the slavery topic) it was like you would glance at me to see what I thought or if I was passing judgement. But why should I have anything to say? I don’t speak for everyone else. Especially people who died hundreds of years ago. It’s horrible, and it’s sin, but that’s (slavery’s) not me. That’s not my identity. It’s not yours either. Just look at what God’s done since then.”

I wish I could introduce everybody to this friend of mine. You’d see she’s like that all the time. I’ve known her for almost ten years now and she’s one of the most insightful, chill, wise, fun (she can quote all of Barnyard and SharkTale) people I’ve ever met in my life. I think she was totally right about this (she’s also been right about everything we’ve ever talked about, for context.)

I’m quoting her because if anyone had a right to be thinking about ancestral slavery any type of way, it would be my dear friend. We were standing in the place with a high likelihood of being where her specific greatx grandparents were stolen from their homes and brought to this country as slaves. But she thought about it healthily instead of unhealthily.

I mean we don’t do this when our family-history has a good, prosperous chapter in it, right? When your great great great great grandfather builds a thriving company from the ground up, and generations later the wealth of your family still speaks to the prosperity he had—but if you try and say, “I know about sacrifice! I know about hard work! My grandfather went through all this stuff to build this company!” Most people would roll their eyes at you and tell you you’ve been privileged, that just because your grandfather experienced and lived through some major stuff, that doesn’t mean you’ve earned the right to claim that major stuff. You didn’t go through those experiences.

That’s what we do with positive family history. But with negative family history, what’s going on? Why do we make that our whole identity? “My ancestors were slaves!” and then we don’t say “so that gives me authority to speak to this/so I know how it feels/so I deserve [this-or-that]” but we live like we’ve somehow inherited what happened to them.

And we haven’t. We just haven’t. We haven’t. It’s part of history. It’s not part of our experience.

When we went to that place in Togo they lowered me down into the hole the slaves were lowered into under the colonist’s house’s floorboards and had me squat there, in the dark, for just fifteen minutes, unable to stand up or stretch out or see, while they explained from the floor over my head that I should also be imagining that I’m naked, surrounded on all sides by crowds of frightened grieving people in the same predicament, packed in so close that we can’t even move sideways, either. And other horrors, of course, like the fact that there’s no bathroom, their own tribespeople helped put them in this hole, and the food only came from the hole itself, so if you were furthest away from it in the dark under-the-floor-of-the-house crawlspace, you could just starve to death because it never reaches you. You hope the other sufferers around you are kind enough to pass you food, but you don’t all speak the same language because you’re from different tribes all over the continent. And this is all before you’re even put on the boats away from all you’ve ever known. Just fifteen minutes, I curled up where they were forced to curl up.

Guess what I learned?

That it was just fifteen minutes.

That what I experienced in the moment I could get closest to their suffering was still nowhere even close to what they experienced.

That nothing in my life has ever approached imaginable levels of that suffering. And it’s arrogant and misguided to claim it as any part of my identity. That level of suffering is foreign to me.

And thank God it’s foreign to me.

If you want to claim other sufferings, be my guest. If you want to say, “I’ve experienced a feeling of not belonging as I waited in the line at Wal-Mart,” or “I’ve experienced my teacher using a slur to refer to me,” or “I’ve experienced the grief of a lack of justice” go for it. But it’s not the same as what they experienced.

Our ancestors who suffered through horrible things, do you think they’d want us to be going around, making our whole lives about their sufferings? Making all of our value-judgements on stories we’ve been told about what happened to them? I mean, geez, in fantasy movies when the defeated villain raises his son to burn with a lust for revenge, we think of that as a bad thing he did. He should’ve let his son grow up free, not saddled him with your hatred over experiences he was blessed enough not to have. But we don’t use that same understanding when it comes to unhealthy thoughts about our enslaved or abused ancestors.

It’s not “no thoughts at all.” It’s “think rightly.” What happened to them was an atrocity, and it should never be repeated, and if we see the seeds of that atrocity cropping up in others’ minds or our own minds—specifically a tendency to view one another as less-human-than-ourselves—we should nip it in the bud.

But we shouldn’t make that the crusade of our lives. It’s just turning yourself into a ghost. What happened to them isn’t happening to you. Live your life as if good has happened since then. You get to have friends, loves, communities, where your skin color or language or where you’re from doesn’t get to be the one thing that defines you. They didn’t get to have that. Don’t shackle yourself to an experience you never had; don’t assume that’s what your ancestors would’ve wanted you to do if they could somehow see a vision of you in the future.

It’s just common sense.

Now.

For everybody who wants to reply, “What are you on about, people groups today may not be enslaved but they are still dealing with the f***ing consequences of slavery!!! They’re still dealing with prejudices and racism and!!!” Knock it off. That wasn’t the question. The question was “should people groups who were enslaved still think about it.”

If you wanna ask me “okay then, should people who have ancestors that were enslaved/abused/massacred/discriminated against/ARE being discriminated against themselves in the present-day—should THEY think about it?!” then roll up and ask me that. But it’s a separate question. And I’m tired of this grandpa

#listen to my friend #asked #answered #I hate it when the sociopolitical bog rises up in my blog

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spearsillustration · 7 hours ago

Text

Younger Cecil Stedman X Secret Wife/Hero Reader

Summary - This takes place immediately after Cecil gets hurt, following all the intense surgery and necessary medical procedures to patch him up. The wounds are still fresh, and the lingering ache from the ordeal is a constant reminder of how close things came to going horribly wrong.

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Notes - Oay since this is my first time writing for him it might be ooc, but I’m trying my best. Though after reading all the other fanfics about him (which isn’t enough) I think I did enough research. Plus rewating every scene he’s in I think I’m ready. Alright, enough ranting I hope you enjoy.

P.S. I rushed to finish this after work so there might be some small mistakes here and there. I'll edit it in due time.

Word count: 2,510

Page number: 7

It had been two weeks since I’d heard anything from Cecil. I called and texted him till my fingers went numb. We might go weeks without seeing each other due to work but he’d always try to call or message me so we knew the other was alright. Last I knew he went on a solo mission when they got a tip, but I was sure he would be fine. If it was something life-threatening they would have sent me in to assist as his partner.

After I hadn’t heard back from him I knew something was wrong. I had to keep our marriage a secret for both our safety, but It was hard to keep a level head not knowing if my husband was okay. I made calls asking about his whereabouts in a way that didn’t scream desperately worried.

It was another week before I got any information and…It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I was told the entire mission was confidential information. But was told that Celil got hurt pretty badly. They reassured me of his excellent care, and their voices receded to a faint hum in the back of my mind, the shock numbing my senses. He had been in the medical facility for the past two weeks and I hadn’t been told a single thing. I had to control myself as my blood felt like it was boiling. But the anger quickly passed and despair followed. I thanked them for finally getting back with me.

I asked if I could see him. I joked that I needed to make sure my favorite partner wasn’t dead yet. I worked with most of the higher ranked agents but I worked with him the most. Noone needed to know the real reason, to any if them we just worked well together. It was hard to put on the fake smile and laughter that followed.

They weren't sure if he was ready for visitors. I have to ask someone higher up to get anything done around here. I rubbed my temple in frustration and with a deep sigh thanked them before hanging up the phone.

I had to make an appointment with the medical facility desk the following day and fill out paperwork explaining why I was visiting and so forth. The process was excruciating as it was time-consuming. Guess being a hero who works for the GDA doesn’t get you ahead of anyone else around here. I rushed through everything making my handwriting sloppy as all hell but I got it finished and quickly gave it back so I could see him as soon as possible.

“In a hurry (Y/N).” The person working at the desk joked with a smile.

“Y-Yeah plenty of work to get done, people to save all that,” I responded as normal as possible.

“I understand that. I’ll get these sorted out as quickly as I can for you. But for now, I’ll need you to wait over there for me.” She said gesturing to the seats where I just was.

I held back an annoyed sigh as I thanked her. I returned to my seat in the corner. Every minute dragged on making me worry even more. After a while, I pulled out my phone looking for a distraction so my mind didn’t wander too much. But that made it worse when I ended up opening my gallery and looking at the few pictures I had of Cecil and me. I had some cute selfies of us together, a picture I took when he fell asleep at his desk that he thinks I deleted, date photos, and things he sent me from work.

“(Y/N),” She called from the desk.

My head quickly shot up as I heard my name.

“You can see him now. The doctor says he’s well enough for visitors”

“Thank you,” I quickly responded and I calmly walked to his room, well until I was out of sight then I practically ran.

Once I got to his room I froze unable to move for a moment. It took me a good minute before I brought my hand up to knock on the door. I heard a strained voice.

“Come in,” Cecil said voice sounding deeper than the last time I heard him.

I slowly opened the door expecting the worst.

When I opened his door his face was inflamed and raw from previous reconstructive surgery, marred by a prominent scar that ran across half of his face. Despite the shock and pain, a surge of relief washed over me—Cecil was alive, albeit heavily sedated.

"Cecil..." I mumbled as my eyes watered in relief.

A hoarse, gravelly whisper escaped his lips, his voice cracked and rough. "(Y/N)...?"

I slowly walked over the the hospital bed he was lying in and sat down on the chain that was beside his bed. I gripped his hand with both of mine lovingly as if I was gonna lose him now.

“Yes, I'm here,” I said with a smile as tears fell down my face.

His fingers trembled ever so slightly, but he managed to squeeze my hand. "Don't...cry." he rasped, his expression tightening with effort. "Look...at me."

I looked into his eyes weakly unable to stop the tears from streaming down my face.

His gaze softened as he noticed my tears, a pang of anguish flashed across his eyes. He slowly raised his hand, movement restricted by lingering pain. He gently swiped his thumb against my cheek, attempting to comfort me.

"I'm okay," he whispered, his voice hoarse and laced with weakness. "I'm... here, (Y/N)."

I leaned into his touch and caressed his hand. “I-I could have lost you. I don’t even know what happened to you for two weeks I’ve been driving myself insane not even knowing if you were alive.” I said between weak whimpers almost unable to stop myself from sobbing.

The sound of my voice, trembling and filled with sobs, pierced him deeply. He squeezed my hand again, a silent act of reassurance. Even in his pain-muddled state, he loathed seeing me this distraught.

His gaze bore into me, unflinching and intense. "You...didn't lose me." His voice, though rough, held a steely resolve. "I'm here...I'm not going anywhere."

“I should have been there. You might not be stuck in this damn hospital bed if I went with you.” I said sorrowfully, deeply regretting my absence. “It's never safe to go on missions alone, why were you alone?” I wined out painfully.

His grip tightened on my hand, a mix of annoyance and concern crossing his expression. "Stop." His voice held a touch of firmness. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

He sighed, looking away momentarily, his gaze fixated on the sterile, blank hospital wall. "I...went...alone because...it was supposed to be...low risk. The intelligence was wrong."

I looked away in shame. “I still wish I was there for you.”

"Stop," he repeated, his voice stern but not without a note of vulnerability. "You...can't always be there."

He shifted his gaze back to me. "I don't want you...risking your life...just for me. I need you...safe."

“I know, but I was so scared. They didn’t even tell me you were hurt till the other day. I was worried to death.”

He winced at my words, his expression etched with pain both physical and emotional. The intensity in his eyes softened as he realized the depth of my concern.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I...didn't consider...how scared you would be...waiting for me."

“Of course, I was worried. I’m not just your partner Cecil, I'm your wife. It's my job to worry about you. On and off work.”

The corner of his lip lifted in a small, tired smirk.

"Worrying isn’t on the list of your marital duties," he retorted weakly, trying to infuse a hint of humor into the situation.

“Well with you it's at the top of the list.”

His smirk broadened ever so slightly, his eyes softening with affection.

"You're hardly the stereotypical doting housewife," he pointed out.

“Well, a stereotypical wife couldn't handle you.”

A chuckle, low and rumbling, escaped him, though it was followed by a wince of pain. "Ain't that...the truth," he agreed, his eyes gleaming with affection.

Seeing him wince in pain made my smile fall. “How are you feeling... really?”

His expression sobered, the amusement in his eyes fading as he sighed heavily. "Like... I got hit by a goddamn truck," he admitted. "Whole body feels like it's on fire. And my head hurts like a sonofabitch."

“Even with all the painkillers they most likely got you on?”

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Painkillers...take the edge off," he muttered, his gaze distant. "But they don't...fix everything." He shifted uncomfortably, wincing again as the movement aggravated his already sore body.

I scooted the chair I was sitting in even closer to his bed. I’d be in the hospital bed with him if I didn’t have any self-control.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or is it to confidential?” I asked turning to look him in the eyes.

“Look you know I can’t tell you, and…you don’t want to know.” He answered the way I expected him too.

“Then it’s probably for the best then,” I responded meekly but pushed past that feeling. “How much longer till you can leave the medical facility and I can get you some real food?”

“Probably another week before they finally let me go.” He sighed in annoyance.

“Well guess I’ll have to come visit you every day till they finally release you.” I teased knowing he hated sitting around doing nothing in a bed all day.

His gaze fixed on me, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I know you will," he murmured, his voice gruff but lacking any hint of annoyance. "Can't get rid of... you that easy."

“Oh, so you thought getting hurt and almost dying would get rid of me. That some facial scar would bother me. Hell, you married me, and it's gonna take far more than that to run me off. Till death do us part is literal with me sweetheart.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile as I continued. “You’re too stubborn.”

“Well, I have to be when It comes to you or you’d never listen,” I said with a smile before gently kissing the new scar on his face.

He flinched at the touch of my lips against his sensitive scar, though his expression softened as he felt the love in that tender gesture making his cheeks turn a light shade of pink that was almost too light to notice.

"Careful," he murmured gently "It's still a bit tender."

I bit my lip playfully with a wink, “It's kind of attractive.”

He let out a huff of amusement, his smirk returning. "You always did...have peculiar tastes," he said, a slight edge of teasing in his voice.

“Well, I married you if that tells you anything.”

"You must've...lost your damn mind,"

“Maybe a little,” I responded before hearing a knock at the door. I quickly shot up and made myself presentable since our marriage was a secret to almost everyone else.

His attention shifted to the knock on the door, his expression slightly alarmed. Despite his injured state, there was a guarded wariness in his gaze. He discreetly gestured for me to step back, not wanting outsiders to witness the intimacy of your relationship.

I moved the chair back and stood up to answer the door. A GDA nurse entered, her expression professional and her voice courteous.

"Good evening, ma'am. I just need to check on Mr. Stedman's vitals." She briskly moved to the side of his bed, affixing the blood pressure cuff to his arm without sparing either of us a second glance.

"Of course." I stepped back so I wasn't in her way and continued speaking to Cecil but only about the stuff he missed at work while he was gone so we wouldn't give away our relationship.

He nodded, shifting slightly to allow the nurse access to his arm. As the nurse proceeded to take his vitals, he engaged in the conversation with you, keeping up the pretense of a casual work update. His gaze flickered between you and the nurse, aware of the need to maintain discretion.

Once the nurse was finished and left us alone I let out a sigh. As the nurse departed, closing the door behind her, the room fell silent once again. He relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing now that she was gone.

"Close call," he murmured, his gaze flickering from the door to me.

"It not like we were making passionate love to each other." I teased.

"That's not the point," he retorted gruffly, trying to maintain a stern demeanor. "We're trying to keep things... under wraps."

"Trust me I know more than anyone," I responded before my watch started beeping alerting me of trouble. I sighed in annoyance and looked up at Cecil painfully.

He noticed the beeping of your watch and the expression of annoyance on your face. A frown creased his brow as he recognized the sound.

"Duty calls?" he murmured, his voice tinged with resignation.

"At the worst times, as usual, People always need saving at the most inconvenient times I swear," I mumbled. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. And don't almost die on me again while I'm gone please."

His expression softened, his gaze fixed on you intently. "No promises," he said with a hint of a smirk, though his words held a note of sincere concern. "Be careful out there."

“Always am. But let's not forget something.” I quickly remarked before walking back over and leaning in for a loving goodbye kiss.

He leaned into the kiss, his hand gently cupping my chin. When I pulled back, a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

"Don't do anything reckless," he murmured, his gaze locking with mine.

#@ay0nha #x reader #hero reader #so #wife reader #oneshot #cecil stedman x reader #cecil stedman #invincible #younger cecil stedman #cecil #secret relationships #fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #duty calls

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81pastrys · 4 hours ago

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Oscar dad fic where teenage mila gets her heart broken for the first time so like a break up or smth. Or maybe when mila wants to learn how to drive a car to get her license (idk feel free to ignore these since theyre maybe a bit out of the age range the other fics are written abt)

Puppy Love

Summary— Mila comes home crying and Oscar comforts her in the best way he can think of

Warnings— heart broken teen

A/N— I find the driving one is going to be hard, but I do have a Carlos one

Oscar didn’t mind Mila dating, in fact he encouraged it. Not in a weird way, but in a live life to the fullest way. He felt off about her current boyfriend but decided not to say anything. They had only been dating like 2 months.

When she came home crying and running to her room, shutting the door with a loud slam, Oscar was severely confused. He managed dinner and then knocked on her door. “I’m fine go away.” She said. He could hear her distraught voice and opened the door.

“Tears don’t mean you’re okay angel.” He said seeing her red face. She kept crying in her hands and he sat across from her on the bed. He rubbed her leg to soothe her and she looked at him. “What’s going on Mila?”

She looked at something in her room before shedding another tear and looking up at him. “He broke up with me.” She said, her voice cracking. Oscar reached a hand to wipe her tears and held her face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, angel.” He said, he knew no words could calm her down. “Come see.” She shifted in her bed to lay on his lap. He played with her hair and rubbed her arm. “It’ll be okay, angel.” He cooed.

She sniffled and continued to cry in his arms. He broke up with her because she wouldn’t get him race tickets, the dumbest thing she ever heard. She was now realizing he was just using her for things like that.

“The Grand Prix is this weekend, we’ll get to see Lando, Charles, Max, and I’m sure Lila is going too.” Oscar said, but it just reminded her of the stupid boy that broke up with her. “Why are you crying harder? That was supposed to cheer you up.” He said monotoned and shook her. She slightly laughed but sat up and looked at him.

“He broke up with me because I wouldn’t get him tickets to the race this weekend.” She explained. Oscars face contorted into a disgusted confusion.

“I didn’t like him anyway. Do you want some Alfredo? Well burnt Alfredo now I’ve been here.” He said and she laughed.

“Yes I want some burnt Alfredo.” He smiled at her and got up. “Dad?” She asked before he left her room. He hummed at her, standing in the doorway. “Can we have a movie night?”

“If you’re okay with no popcorn?” He said. “We ate it all last time.” She smiled and the out on a fake serious face.

“Then forget it, we don’t have to. What’s a movie night without popcorn?” She joked. “Oh! Did we eat the ice cream yet?” She remembered they got ice cream to celebrate a race that never got eaten.

“I like your thinking Mila.” He smiled and checked his food. It was not burnt yet, but it was close. She changed into comfier clothes and joined him at the dinner table. “That’s a pathetic excuse to break up with you.” Oscar broke the silence.

“I know that now, but I mean still.” She said. “I mean he was weird right?” She asked. Oscar looked around and she laughed.

“I wasn’t going to say it.” He admitted shrugging his shoulders. They finished dinner and got cozied up on the couch to watch a movie together, both with ice cream bowls in hand. “You know I love you right?” He asked her.

“Yes and I love you dad.” She said. He kissed her head and they watched the movie.

Movie nights are deemed Oscar and Milas thing.

Taglist: @il0vereadingstuff @kallanfiona

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darkfictionjude · 10 hours ago

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Hello Jude,

I really wanted to ask how you deal with hate from people. Because I am myself writing an IF and these little bitches that can't shut up is really taking a toll.

First they started complaining about the MC being genderlocked as female, like okay I get it its disappointing if you see an IF description that you like and can't play your gender, and I have explained that I am a female, and at the moment I'm not confident in my skills to write a separate code for female and male MC's because if I did I would want it to have obvious differences other than the anatomy.

Then it was about my IF only having 4 RO's, which 3 are male and 1 is female. And I had explained that the gender mattered in the story and I got hit with "but couldn't atleast add one more female RO, I feel like you put one in just for the diversity and I bet the romance with her is gonna be trash and forgotten anyway" LIKE HELLOOOOOO. Saying shit while not even knowing I am a bisexual woman who has a gf is wild? lets just walk around throwing assumptions why don't we.

Then it was it takes too long to update, man, I am a one woman show, okay? I'm juggling college because I want to be a forensic pathologist, I also have a job and I also have a life outside of college and work?? I want some time to myself, to be with friends, family and people I care about. My IF is a hobby that I like doing. I'm not getting paid and people just expect of me to pop out chapters left and right like a cow.

My gf might help me with the coding since she's good at all that numbers and stuff but she's not my employ, I don't pay her and she has her own shit to do, and I won't make her take time out of her free day just to help me.

Of course I'm not writing fucking faster with little maggots in my inbox screaming "WHEN IS THE NEXT UPDATE" "CAN YOU HURRY UP ALREADY"

Because from what I can conclude, those are not words of encouragement, how do you expect me to sit behind my computer and start writing and coding and going back and fixing thing if your throwing a tantrum.

Sentences like "Hey I know it's been a while but I hope your okay and I love your your IF, hopefully next update is coming soon."

It is NOT that hard to be respectful. Were you raised in a barn? Did you mommy and daddy not teach you manners? Because my mother used to say "if you have nothing good to say then don't say anything at all."

Because I am myself writing an IF and these little bitches that can't shut up is really taking a toll.

Well that is one way to get my attention 😭😭😭

You know what I realized? Some people can never be happy. You add another female LI they’ll say “you just did it because we bothered you not because you wanted to and you’ll sideline her 🙄”

You add a gender selectable MC and they’ll say “why does this MC feel female coded 🙄” even though you explained why you don’t feel like you can write a male MC like what did they expect if you force someone to write something they know they need more time to practice writing

Like no matter what you do for some people it’s never going to be enough. And god forbid you answer back with the same energy they give you or you’ll be deemed an asshole while they’ll go scott-free

It’s hardly ever fair for us when people decide that you must answer insult with a costumer service smile. And these complainers will never be content because they deliberately played a game that they knew would have elements they didn’t like but magically thought they could bully you to change them

So the way I handle it is to stop caring about how others perceive for defending myself against nagging and nonconstructive criticism. I am confident that I’ve never been one to instigate hate towards any reader I’ve only ever answered something someone else starts in my inbox. And I also know that for every mean reader there are like 10 nice readers who don’t mind waiting, are excited about what you put out and are respectful

I used to get the “next update” messages and I don’t anymore because I’ve hammered it in that unless I say a projected date don’t ask me because not even I know. I do get that it gets annoying to repeat yourself so I would either put it in your bio that you don’t know when the next update is or just starting deleting those asks

Being an IF writer is very much an experiment in protecting your peace of mind 😭

Also I know why you wouldn’t want to say what your IF is called but maybe one day you could maybe DM me privately to tell me cause I would like to play it 🤗 and I would defend you 🤺

#IF stuff #hate

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dyns33 · 3 days ago

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Family's bet

ALFIE IS BACK !!! I need to post one Alfie story per month or I explode or something.

Most of the time, Y/N stayed out of the conflicts between her brothers and her husband.

They didn't happen as often as you'd think, and most of the time they were over ridiculous matters that were resolved as quickly as they arose.

Furthermore, neither the Shelbys nor Alfie had ever asked her to play referee, as if they knew perfectly well what her answer would be, guessing her silent rule of neutrality, or didn't want to put her in such an embarrassing situation.

Only in the rare case where one of the parties dared to do something very serious would Y/N feel compelled to intervene.

If asked, and after a moment of hesitation, she would have admitted that she thought that if one of them decided to make a mistake, it would probably be Alfie. The King of Camden was known for breaking certain pacts when they no longer benefited him, in favor of more interesting partners. Business, nothing personal.

At the same time, these only concerned pacts with disreputable people or those he didn't like, who themselves hadn't always followed the terms of the contract, trying to double-cross him in one way or another.

Alfie Solomons didn't necessarily like the Peaky Blinders very much, they had a complicated history, but they were family now. He'd have to have a good reason to stab them in the back again.

To a more objective observer, it was more likely that it would be a Shelby who made a mistake. Arthur, John or Finn, given their temperaments. It was hard to say for the others, who covered themselves with a supposed veil of honesty and honor.

So it was with determination and anger in her heart that Y/N went to her brother Tommy's office to have a talk when she learned what he had done.

"Can you explain this to me, Thomas ?"

"Hello, little sister," he said, remaining seated and continuing to smoke calmly.

"Can you explain to me why several of the "bread" warehouses in South London burned down, and why I'm told your men were seen in the area just before the fires when they had no business being there ? And why, shortly afterward, you signed a sale with several of Alfie's customers, adding that you were sorry that their "bread" delivery wouldn't be possible this month ?"

"I have good reasons."

"I'm going to need more than that."

"Don't you trust me ?"

"Of course, that's not the question. Answer me."

"If you trust me, knowing I have good reasons should be enough for you."

After several years of marriage, Y/N had learned to take a deep breath during a conversation that seemed to be going nowhere, knowing full well that, with the men in her circle, shouting was pointless.

This was even more true with Tommy. Unflappable, vicious as a snake, he always managed to gain the upper hand, seizing the slightest weakness to turn it against his enemies and get what he wanted.

Without any qualms, he used the same method with his family, managing to make them feel guilty or stupid if they didn't go his way. It didn't work with everyone. Especially the women. Polly, Ada, and Y/N knew him all too well.

It wouldn't work this time.

"You know people are talking, right ? They're wondering what's going on. More importantly, they're wondering if this calls Alfie's authority into question. You publicly humiliated him. I haven't seen him yet, but I imagine he was surprised by the news and will want a good explanation so he doesn't wring your neck."

"Mr. Solomons is intelligent, he'll listen to me. And he'll never resort to violence, he knows you wouldn't approve."

"Just this once, I might make an exception," Y/N growled, standing proudly before him. "Don't use me in your schemes, Tom. Don't think for a second that this will be enough to protect you. If Alfie senses the slightest possibility of getting revenge with my permission, he won't hesitate."

Still calm, Tommy stared at her for a long time, blowing out the smoke from his cigarette. There were several possible outcomes. The calm before the storm. But Y/N wouldn't tremble, not this time. Not when her husband's honor was at stake, brother or not.

Seeing her determination, Thomas nodded, before flashing a small smile. She even thought she heard him chuckle.

"Tell Alfie he'll get a nice compensation. I'll take care of the rumors."

"I don't care about your compensation, I…"

"Y/N. Trust me. He knows why I did what I did."

Alfie didn't know why Thomas had done what he had done. As furious as she had imagined, he paced around his office, screaming like a madman and threatening the entire world.

He didn't calm down much when he learned that Y/N had gone to see her brother. At least, not before she told him she'd gone to him to reprimand him, and more or less gotten what looked like an apology.

It wasn't like Thomas Shelby to apologize, admit he was wrong, and look for a way to avoid the Wandering Jew's wrath since he didn't have his little sister's protection in this matter.

"… He apologized ?" Alfie repeated suspiciously.

"In Tommy-speak, you could say that. With a nice, annoying smile."

"And he said I knew why he did it ?"

"Did you do something ?" Y/N asked, narrowing her eyes, searching for any sign of nervousness in her husband.

But no. As far as Alfie was concerned, he hadn't done anything that deserved punishment. And if he'd done something, Thomas wouldn't have mentioned compensation, he would have simply taken what was due to him and let him deal with the consequences of his actions. For once, Solomons had nothing to be ashamed of.

He seemed to suddenly have a revelation when he saw Y/N ranting at her idiot brother. He stopped breathing for a moment, his eyes wide, and froze in his seat.

"The bastard."

"What ? Alfie, what ?"

"That dirty little bastard… He thinks he's clever. I'm going to kill him."

"You're not killing anyone until you explain what's going on !"

It turned out Thomas and Alfie had made some kind of bet. Well, not really, they hadn't shaken hands after spitting, and he hadn't discussed what the winner would get or what the loser would give.

But, at a family gathering, Alfie had affirmed that if she had to choose, his wife would always side with her brothers. He wasn't offended by this fact. He understood the importance of family, he admired that loyalty, that love. It was simply an observation on his part.

To this, Tommy had retorted that he was wrong. Of course their sister loved them, and because she loved them, she would kick their asses if they did something horrible for no good reason, especially if it was against him.

Unsurprisingly, this led to an argument, quickly forgotten the next day. At least, by Alfie, Arthur, John, and most of the other players.

Not Thomas.

Clearly, he hadn't appreciated anyone questioning his sister's impartial integrity. Or maybe he just found it amusing to prove Solomons wrong.

Part of his "compensation" was a proof of love, the absolute certainty that his wife would be on his side if anyone wronged him, even her own kin. Too bad it was bound to be accompanied by Tommy's mocking smile every time he saw him from now on.

"You are idiots. I knew I should never deal with your problems."

"I didn't ask you, treacle. You were the one who went to him, instead of coming to cheer me up. That hurts me greatly, by the way. Wicked woman, leaving me alone with my despair to go see her brother."

"Be very careful, Alfred."

"… You're furious with him, not me. Remember, love."

"You two could end up tied if you push your luck. Don't ever bet on me again."

"But I didn't… He was the one who… Yes, love. Sorry, love, I'll shut up now."

Y/N called her brother to give him the same order, which made him laugh, though he accepted her request without the slightest concern, before asking if her husband was okay.

She hung up without answering. Bastard indeed.

#peaky blinders #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfiction

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uppersidedreaminnn · 5 hours ago

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── CONFESSIONS

⤷ heeseung and you have always been inseparable. friends who share a bond that feels like family. though, your friends notice the way heeseung looks at you, the lingering touches, hinting at something more. you dismiss their suspicions, convinced your relationship is platonic. but when heeseung confesses his feelings, you're forced to question if it was always meant to be something more.

⟡ pairing: basketball captain lee heeseung! x female reader

⟡ W.C: 1,442

⟡ genre: friends to lovers, high school au.

likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. please let me know your thoughts!

you push open the gymnasium doors, the roar of the crowd hitting you instantly. the bleachers are packed, students leaning forward in their seats, voices echoing off the high ceilings. the buzz of excitement fills the air as the teams warm up on the court. your eyes scan the room, searching for your friends, and you spot them immediately—front row, right where they always are, with an empty seat waiting for you.

"finally," one of them teases as you slide into your spot. "you're late."

"yeah, yeah," you mumble, rolling your eyes. "heeseung forgot his sports bag in the locker room, so i had to go get it for him."

the second his name leaves your mouth, they exchange glances. a silent conversation you can’t decipher.

"what?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing.

"nothing," one of them says, shaking her head, but the smirk on her lips says otherwise.

"is that why you're wearing his jersey?" another chimes in, eyes flicking down to the fabric draped over you.

you glance down at yourself, the familiar number standing out against the dark material. "he had an extra one in his bag," you explain. "said i should wear it for good luck. interrogation over, okay?"

you push up from your seat before they can say anything else. "i'm going to wish him luck."

"lucky guy," one of them mutters as you walk away. "gets a good luck charm before every game."

the team is gathered on the bench, locked in conversation. heeseung stands in the middle, gesturing as he talks, his presence commanding even in casual moments. you tap his shoulder lightly, and he turns immediately, a grin spreading across his face the second he sees you.

"just wanted to say good luck before the game starts," you tell him, and the way his smile softens makes your heart do something weird in your chest.

"thanks, y/n," he says, eyes flickering down to his jersey on you for just a second too long.

you nod, pulling away before you start overthinking things. "okay, get ready now. you got this."

he doesn’t stop smiling even as you walk back to your seat.

when the buzzer goes off, the crowd erupts into cheers as both teams step onto the court. the game tips off with heeseung winning possession of the jump ball, and just like that, it’s chaos. minutes blur together in a mess of sneakers squeaking against polished floors, bodies colliding, and the constant echo of the referee’s whistle.

it’s a tight game—25-25 with barely a minute left. your nails dig into your palms as you watch heeseung weave through defenders, eyes locked on the basket. he leaps, arms stretching, and releases the ball. the gym holds its breath as the ball arcs perfectly through the air, sinking into the net with a clean swish.

the crowd explodes.

heeseung is unstoppable, completely in his element, but you see it—how hard he’s breathing, how his shoulders rise and fall too fast. his skin glistens under the fluorescent lights, drenched in sweat. the final buzzer is seconds away. if the other team doesn’t score, they win.

then, everything happens too fast.

the opposing team steals possession, sprinting down the court. you grip the hem of your jersey, barely breathing. they shoot, the ball sailing—

it bounces off the rim.

jungwon grabs the rebound, passes it to heeseung. he pushes forward, dodging, searching for an opening. the defense closes in. he hesitates—a split second of doubt. then, he spots it. his eyes flick to the hoop, determination flaring. he steps back, sets his feet, and takes the shot.

silence.

the ball arcs perfectly through the air. the net sways as the ball drops through.

the gym explodes into cheers.

you’re already halfway onto the court before you even realize you’re moving, heart pounding in your ears. you scan the floor for heeseung, but the moment you spot him, dread crashes over you.

his hands tremble at his sides, his chest rising and falling too fast, his eyes searching, unfocused. panic grips your stomach. he stumbles back once, twice—

then he collapses.

the celebration screeches to a halt. gasps ripple through the crowd. you don’t even think before you sprint forward, feet pounding against the polished wood as jake and jay reach him first, hauling him up between them.

"we need to get him to the nurse’s office," jake says urgently, and you don’t hesitate to follow.

—

you sit beside heeseung, watching his chest rise and fall steadily now. the nurse said he was just overwhelmed, the adrenaline and exhaustion hitting him all at once. still, the sight of him unconscious knocked the air from your lungs.

he stirs. his fingers twitch, his brows furrowing slightly before his eyes blink open. he blinks a few times, adjusting to the lights, before turning his head.

his gaze softens when he sees you. "y/n."

"you're awake," you breathe, relief flooding your chest. "how do you feel?"

he blinks at you, still groggy. "what happened?"

"you won the game," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "then you passed out. and scared the hell out of me. out of everyone."

his lips twitch into something like a smile, but you shake your head, gripping his hand without thinking. "heeseung, you shouldn’t push yourself that hard. you need to listen to your body more." you can't help but scold the boy.

he hums absently, but you can tell he’s not really listening. he’s staring at you like he’s thinking about something else entirely.

"i was looking for you," he says suddenly, voice quiet.

you blink. "what?"

"when i stepped away from the team. i was looking for you."

"you shouldn’t have," you mumble, shaking your head. "i was already coming to you anyway."

heeseung exhales sharply, drags a hand through his hair. he hesitates, then grabs your wrist before you can pull away. "i was looking for you because… i had something to tell you." he says voice strained.

your breath catches. "what is it?"

he hesitates. you watch the emotions flicker across his face—uncertainty, frustration, something else you can’t quite place.

"i promised myself," he starts, voice low, "that if we won this game, i’d tell you."

"tell me what?"

he swallows, jaw tightening. then, finally, he says it.

"that i like you, y/n."

your breath stutters.

"since we became friends, i kept it to myself because i didn’t know how you felt," he admits, voice steadier now. "i didn’t want to overstep."

the words crash over you like a tidal wave. your mind races through every moment you’ve shared with him. the way he’s always looked out for you. the way you always find yourself gravitating toward him. the way your heart clenched when you saw him fall.

all this time, had it been right in front of you?

maybe you just didn’t realize it before, never admitting it to yourself, but deep down, you knew. what you felt for heeseung went beyond friendship. his confession didn’t just surprise you—it gave you the confidence to finally acknowledge those thoughts you’d been pushing away.

heeseung watches you closely, noticing the way your brows furrow, the words caught in your throat. his voice is quiet when he speaks again. “you don’t have to return my feelings or anything,” he says quickly, almost like he’s afraid of what your silence means. “i just wanted to finally tell you.”

when you meet his gaze, there’s something so vulnerable in the way he looks at you—hopeful, pleading.

“i—” you start, but your voice falters. you swallow hard and try again. “i think i like you too, heeseung.”

his eyes widen slightly, breath hitching as you continue, words tumbling out in a rush. “i didn’t want to admit it to myself before, because we were just friends, and i didn’t want to overstep.” you exhale shakily. “but i like you so much too.” your voice is steady now, sure. “when you fainted, i swear my world stopped.”

his expression softens, like he never expected you to say those words. for a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s memorizing every detail of this moment. then, his voice drops to a whisper.

“come here.”

you smile, a little shy, before shifting closer, resting against his chest. warmth spreads through you when his arms wrap around you, pulling you in.

“i guess my friends were right after all,” you chuckle, the vibration of your laughter sending shivers down his spine.

heeseung lets out a breathy laugh, pressing his face into your hair. “wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, holding you even closer, like he’s afraid to let go.

a.n: gonna never stop the basketball player heeseung agenda, ughhh

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung enhypen #heeseung enha #lee heeseung #heeseung x you #heeseung fluff #heeseung smau #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung fluff #lee heeseung angst #lee heeseung smau #enhypen texts #enhypen imagines

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 2 days ago

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loved your last headcanon on Mr. Qi

Now, to make it more angst. What if Mr. Qi threatens the Farmer and they do accept and divorce their spouse with no explanation, how would their spouse react to the Farmer trying to explain and return to them, because it was just another test of Mr. Qi

also... can you include sve bachelors? 👉👈 (and Isaac... if you want)

Good to see you again in the askbox, dear moot :3

Glad you liked that last ask, heh ❤️ Sure, I'll include the SVE bachelors and Isaac, thank you so much for the ask! Have a wonderfully day!

_________________________________________

Stardew Valley:

“That's the dumbest excuse I've ever heard.” Alex already didn't want to chat with his ex, and after hearing about their sudden divorce, the mood soured completely, and the athlete slammed the door in Farmer's face. But near the end of the evening, their words wouldn't leave his head, replayed over and over again. They were both happy, not a hint of anything bad. Maybe they- No, that story about mysterious man is kind of bullcrap. Farmer was probably just scared of married life, regretted the divorce and now they're trying to get it all back. Yeah, they are, and Alex won't listen to them again.

“I... I'm just speechless.” Despite the loss of words, Elliott was outraged, crying and inundating his ex spouse with tons of questions. His heart is broken, Farmer broke his heart! But... did they do to protect him? Then why didn't they tell him!- Oh, wait, they couldn't. They really couldn't? Yoba, the writer is all emotional and doesn't know if everything Farmer said is a true or an attempt to mess with his head and bring everything back to the way it was before the divorce. “Do you have anything to back up what you say?” Elliott needs proof. He also needs to calm down.

“Do you realize how wild that sounds?” Even Sebastian, who believes magic exists and felt the foul blow of the monster crab in the Mines, can't imagine that there's some blue mystical man who's watching everyone in the Valley and especially Sebastian's ex-spouse, and that mystical man's threats are what caused Sebby and Farmer's divorce. On the other hand... *Sigh* He wants to believe Farmer, but he has a hard time taking just their word for it. Without any proofs, it won't look very convincing, to say at least.

".....Don't know what kind of shit you're smoking, but don't drag me into this, and stay the fuck away from me and my family." Shane's divorce almost put him in the depressive hole he was in a while ago, and now Farmer is prying into his life to shake it up all again when things have just calmed down. Arw they fucking with him? He sobbed all day in his old room at the Marnie's Ranch, staring at divorce papers... He believed someone actually loved him... and now fucking what?! “You failed the test, then, now fuck off,” Shane said dryly to Farmer and walked away.

“...What?” So, what should Sam believe now? Because on the one hand, it's all lie and Farmer just wants Sam back, on the other hand, he believes in magic thanks to those obelisks on the farm where the guitarist lived with his ex. Has Farmer crossed this “person's” path? Then why, for what reason? Sam loved them, but... he wants no part of some strange business. Sammy is even afraid of Farmer now: what if they do something crazy again at the behest of this "Qi" (if he even exists and not just the ex's lies)?

“Yoba, what have you gotten yourself into...” Honestly, after Farmer's words about “a mighty demigod who demands to fulfill his tests” Harvey imagined not some evil wizard, but a mafia head whom his ex had crossed the path. Farmer still claiming it's a wizard? “Okay, and where is this ‘wizard’ located, do you know?” At the casino- okay, that really sounds like the head of the mafia. Basically, Qi might as well be the mob head... Harvey's tired and heartbroken, Farmer... No, no more excuses. Please leave the doctor alone...

Stardew Valley Expanded (+Isaac):

“Answers, now.” Magnus didn't have time for Farmer and already wanted to send his ex away from his tower with a snap of his fingers, but as soon as Farmer mentioned “Qi”... This person (or anomaly) is of great concern to the Ministry of Magic with his strange behaviors. There was even talk that "Qi" was somehow involved in corruption in the Crimson Badlands... The old wizard would listen to Farmer and report to the Ministry because "Mr. Qi" could threaten people's lives. “...I know what you want to say Farmer, but not now.” Whether they will be able to be together again, no one knows.

“If what you say is true, we need to report to Magnus and Camilla immediately.” Lance's patience was enviable - anyone in his shoes would have just chased Farmer away. Plus that Mr. Qi that Lance's ex told him about... The adventurer himself is not a member of the Ministry, but he got some information about Qi. Quite disturbing information, and they both now need to report to the senior mages and wait for their response. "On one hand I can understand you if it was the only way to protect me and yourself. But you also have to realize that you can't just come back, and the pain and separation after the divorce will suddenly go away. We're already expected at the meeting, let's go."

“Is that... true?” Maybe someone else in Victor's place would have laughed at such pathetic attempts by Farmer to justify themself, but the spaghetti lover thought hard about their words. He may not be an adventurer like his ex, but he knows about the existence of monsters and magic in general. And that someone very powerful mage is playing with Farmer's life and his is a very possible scenario, considering that Farmer was surrounded by equally strange and magical occurrences. His heart is still broken over the sudden divorce, but he's willing to hear them out.

".....Get out." What a great start of Isaac's day, just fantastic: not only has his ex-spouse been stalking him for a week, but they've given the scarred adventurer the most absurd excuse for their cowardice. No honest explanation from them, apparently, and to be honest - he doesn't want to listen to them. Out of the Badlands' post, he has no time to them. But when he complains to Alesia about their excuse, she will change her face dramatically, saying that “Qi” exists and is wanted by the Order and the Ministry. Isaac will be a bit taken aback. And starts looking for Farmer.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley expanded #sve #sdv shane #sdv alex #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sve lance #sve magnus #sdv wizard #sve victor #sve isaac #sdv headcanons #sve headcanons #thanks for the ask!

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