#it’s almost like not everyone knows everything that you do

[22ayla21]

Vegetable Trickery

Women are cunning creatures; they'll even make lions eat vegetables.

As it turned out, raising two little lion cubs was not for the faint of heart. Especially considering they took after their father not only in appearance but also in culinary preferences.

Leona had always been a meat lover. If it were possible, he would eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Vegetables? Who needed them anyway? This was his firm stance since childhood. And, of course, his children inherited the same passion for meat and an absolutely sincere aversion to anything that even remotely resembled greens.

Their mother, however, held a different opinion. She was a reasonable woman and understood perfectly that children needed a balanced diet for normal growth and development. But how do you explain this to two little stubborn lion cubs who clearly took their dad’s disregard for vegetables as sacred law?

Useless. Absolutely useless.

Every attempt to serve anything other than meat turned into a mini-drama. The twins frowned, suspiciously examined their plates, and literally sniffed to make sure there was nothing "dangerous" lurking in their food. And if they found the slightest hint of vegetables, the game was lost. They immediately shouted that the "green stuff" was unnecessary and demanded "normal food."

Leona, meanwhile, sat nearby, arms crossed, smirking smugly.

"You know they're right, don't you?" he'd say mockingly, lazily bringing a piece of roast meat to his lips. "Why do they need those grassy things when we have real food?"

She just rolled her eyes. And that's when a cunning plan was born in her head.

First, she started small.

Finely chopped onions and garlic in the meatballs—too small for anyone to notice. Then—cauliflower puree, cleverly mixed with mashed potatoes. A spoonful of carrot juice in the broth, a little more vegetables in the sauce.

And, lo and behold! They ate. They ate and didn't notice the trick.

She began to master new ways of secretly delivering vitamins into her cubs' bodies.

Meatballs? Add finely grated zucchini to the minced meat.

Sauce for the meat? Blend tomatoes, bell peppers, and eggplant.

Pancakes? Let the batter include pumpkin puree.

Meat pies? What if the filling is half mushrooms and spinach?

They ate everything. And praised it!

Leona too.

At first, she worried he'd notice. After all, he was an adult man, and with an excellent sense of smell. But he ate, suspecting nothing. And when he once praised the "especially juicy" meatballs that contained grated zucchini, she had to exert all her effort not to burst out laughing right at the table.

"See, Mom?" her son proudly declared, chewing a piece of meat. "Dad also knows that normal food is only meat!"

"Of course, dear," she smiled gently, trying not to give herself away.

Leona nodded approvingly and reached for another serving.

Weeks went by, and her trickery remained undiscovered. The children were happy, their health was fine, and even the king of the family himself ate vegetables, unaware of it.

But one day, everything almost fell apart.

That evening, dinner was especially delicious—stewed meat in a thick sauce with fragrant spices. Everyone ate with gusto until her son suddenly frowned and started digging in his plate.

"Mom, what's this?" he suspiciously poked his fork at something green, peeking out from under a piece of meat. Her daughter froze, squinting.

"Looks like... a vegetable!"

Silence fell.

The little lions looked from their plates to their mother. Leona, who was finishing his piece of meat, paused, watching the situation with interest.

"Come on, Mom," he drawled with a sly grin. "You don't mean to tell us you've been slipping us vegetables all this time?"

She felt a chill run down her spine. But she couldn't show her nervousness. She smiled her most composed smile and calmly replied:

"Of course not, dears. It's just greens for flavor."

Her son narrowed his eyes suspiciously but, finding no convincing evidence of the crime, shrugged and went back to eating. Her daughter also nodded, accepting the explanation.

Leona, however, looked at her with a squint.

"You're more cunning than you seem," he drawled, shaking his head. "Should have guessed earlier."

She put on an innocent face.

"What are you talking about?"

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair again.

"Alright. Since you're so cunning that you managed to fool even me, then..." he took another piece of meat and popped it into his mouth, chewing with pleasure, "...maybe it's not so bad after all."

She had won. The lions in her family ate vegetables. They just didn't know it.

[shibuyablonde]

seven minutes katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: As he lies dying, his mind drifts through seven memories.

This is my own take of this piece I saw. Go show them some support.

By the time the blood starts pooling beneath him, Bakugo already knows.

He’s not making it out of this.

The sky above is black smoke and large storm clouds, but his eyes are wide open. His chest feels too tight, too heavy, like his body is holding him down while the last few pieces of his soul try to fight their way out.

The rivet drill is still there, buried deep, pinning him to the earth like an insect on display.

He doesn’t feel it anymore.

Not really. Only the weight.

Seven minutes.

That’s what they say happens when you’re dying. Your brain floods you with the best parts of your life as it crumbles, like a parting gift before the lights go out.

Bakugo doesn’t want to see anything.

He wants to get back up. But he can’t.

So he lies there, stuck in his skin, and lets the minutes drag him under.

Minute 1

It’s not the day All Might saved him from the sludge villain, surprisingly.

It’s before that. Way before.

He’s four years old, sitting on the floor in front of their old TV.

His feet are bare, legs crossed, and his hands are sticky with orange popsicle.

All Might is on the screen, smiling that massive, dumb smile.

“Everything is fine now! Why? Because I am here!”

He can’t read the news crawl at the bottom yet, but he knows the words.

He’s memorized them. He can hear his tiny self chanting along.

His mom is standing behind him, folding laundry.

“You’ll be a great hero someday,” she says, like she doesn’t even think about it. Like it’s already true.

But he hears it.

And he believes her.

Minute 2

His old man is in this one.

Bakugo almost laughs, but it gets caught in the blood bubbling up in his throat.

He’s six, maybe.

There’s a thunderstorm outside. His mom’s at work late.

The lights in the apartment flicker out.

And he panics.

He hides under the table, his tiny hands clenched in his hair, breathing hard. His dad tries to get him out, kneeling on the kitchen floor with a flashlight, but he won’t move.

Finally, his dad crawls under with him.

“You hear that?” he says quietly.

Bakugo just stares at him.

“The thunder. That’s what you sound like when you use your quirk.”

Bakugo sniffs.

His dad presses the flashlight into his hands. “That loud? That strong? That’s you, Katsuki.”

It’s dumb, but it works.

They sit under the table together until the lights come back on.

Minute 3

It’s Deku. Of course, it’s dumb Deku.

But not the way Bakugo expects.

He’s not crying or whining, not the useless little nerd he remembers from when they were kids.

This memory’s recent.

It’s the day Bakugo apologized.

His hands shake when he says it. “I’m sorry.”

For everything.

For being a piece of shit.

For bullying him when they were kids.

For not understanding how hard Deku must’ve had it.

Deku stares at him for a long time. Then he smiles. And Bakugo hates him for it because it makes his chest hurt in a different way.

“It’s okay,” Deku says. “You’ve always been my hero.”

Minute 4

And then there’s you.

It’s stupid how fast you fill up his head.

He didn’t even realize how much space you took until now.

He’s sitting on the dorm balcony at U.A., his back against the wall, picking at the scar on his hand.

You come out and sit beside him without asking. You’re wearing his hoodie because you lost a bet with Kirishima, and he made you put it on. It swamps you. The sleeves are too long. And the hem pools and your thighs.

“Do you always scowl this much when you’re alone?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer.

But you stay.

And when you finally leave, his hoodie is still on you.

He tells himself he doesn’t care.

But he doesn’t ask for it back.

Minute 5

This one is louder, muffled, but there.

There’s music playing.

You’re at the training gym with everyone, but you’re the only one dancing like an idiot during cool-down stretches.

You’re singing along, off-key, way too loud, and your hair is stuck to your forehead because you’ve been sweating your ass off.

“Come on, Bakugo,” you say, grinning at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t dance.”

“Hell no.”

“Coward.”

You challenge him to a spar after that. And you almost win.

He cheats, grabbing your ankle when you flip him.

You laugh when you land on him, breathless and bright, and your fingers poke his ribs.

“Admit it,” you tell him, “you’re having fun.”

He doesn’t say anything.

But he is.

Minute 6

It’s winter.

You hate the cold, much like Bakugo, so you’re bundled up like a snowman, your nose tickled red, your hands shoved deep within your pockets.

He notices you don’t have gloves. He doesn’t say anything at first.

But when you’re not looking, he blasts his palms warm and presses them over your fingers.

You jump in your seat.

Then you laugh.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning into him without asking.

He doesn’t move away.

You fall asleep on his shoulder on the train ride home.

When you wake up, he’s still holding your hand.

Minute 7

The last minute is the worst.

Because he’s still here.

And you’re still here.

You’re screaming his name.

You’re running toward him through the rubble and the smoke and the bodies.

You hit the ground on your knees next to him, hands covered in his blood.

He can’t hear what you’re saying.

But he can feel your fingers on his face.

They’re shaking.

You’re crying. You don't cry, but you are now.

And it’s for him.

He wants to tell you not to. To wipe those shitty tears of your beautiful face.

He wants to tell you he was going to ask you out after the war.

He wants to tell you he was going to walk you home. That he was going to hold your hand without an excuse.

That he was going to kiss you, maybe, if you let him.

But his heart’s not working anymore.

And his mouth won’t move.

So he stares at you instead, memorizing your face for the last time.

You’re the last thing he sees.

And that’s good enough for him.

Because he loved you. And he never got to say it.

But maybe you’ll know anyway.

Seven minutes, and then it’s over.

© 2025 shibuyablonde — All rights reserved. Don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[triplefrontierbabe]

1,1,3 😛😛😛 i feel like i gotta

Max’s Shift in Career

summary: you ask the million dollar question to have a baby

pairing: f! reader x Max Verstappen

prompt: asking for a baby x Max Verstappen x fic

warning: mentions of pregnancy, if that is not a topic you’re interested in, please skip

a/n: part of 600 followers celebration!!! thank you anon for this!!! you’re doing a service for asking for this hehe

600 followers celebration

You were visiting Max’s sister, Victoria and her family, during summer vacation. Spending a few weeks away on the beach with family was your perfect idea of a break. Mornings were slow and the days were long, but in the right way. While you and Victoria enjoyed sunbathing, Max and Joris spent time playing with the kids in the water. While it warms your heart seeing Max interact with his niece and nephews, you’d be remiss to not say there was a part of you that yearned for more.

Over the course of the couple years you and Max have been dating, the talk of children and the future definitely was a topic of conversation more than once. Given Max’s career and the constant travel, there was a mutual understanding that having kids was something to be put on the back burner for the time being. And, you understood why. But, the want has always been something that’s flashed through your mind more than once– especially when you see him around his sister’s kids.

“What’s on your mind?” Victoria says, pulling you out of your deep thoughts.

“Well, what isn’t at this point?” You reply with a small chuckle. Victoria smiles at you knowingly. Ever since you started dating Max you had become instant best friends with Victoria. She’s become the sister you never had.

“How did you and Joris know it was the right time?” You ask after a moment of silence. Victoria tilts her head inquisitively. She follows your line of sight which is on Max who is holding one of his nephews splashing around in the water. She nods in quiet understanding, knowing what you’re implying.

“Well,” she begins, turning to face you more, “there really isn’t a “right” time, honestly. There’s always going to be something coming up in life but you just go with the flow, I guess.”

You turn to look at her, your brow furrowed in thought.

“To be frank, even after our third, there was still that apprehension but once the baby’s here, everything falls into place.” Victoria continues, now shifting her gaze to her husband and kids.

As the words sink in, your yearning for a family grows. Having a family of your own has been a dream of yours forever and the more time you spend with Max, the more the desire grows. And it’s not out of your own selfishness per se, rather it’s out of the love you have for Max. You know he’d be a great father, especially with the amount of love he has for you, you can only imagine that would double, even triple towards a baby.

“Talk to him, you might be on the same page even more than you thought.” Victoria urges you. If there’s one person who knows Max more than you, it’s his own sister. And, she would never steer either of you wrong.

Later that night, after dinner and after everyone has turned in for the night, the conversation you had with Victoria earlier is still swimming in your mind.

Max notices your pensive expression as you stand at the bathroom sink washing your face. He walks up behind you and lays a kiss to the crown of your head as his arms come to wrap around your waist. For a moment, the two of you stand there in a domestic bliss. It’s now or never, you think.

“Can we have a baby?” You blurt out as you finish patting your face dry with a towel. Your eyes meet Max’s in the mirror as he raises his eyebrows in surprise by your straightforwardness. His mouth opens, almost as if to say something but you turn around to face him, your back now up against the sink counter.

“I know we’ve talked about it before and that with racing and everything it wouldn’t be the easiest to do so but I feel ready and I love you and I want this with you no matter how crazy or hectic it may be but I also understand if you’re not ready-” You ramble before Max butts in.

“Is that why you’ve been quiet lately?” He asks, you can only manage to nod in response.

You both stand there in silence for a few moments, allowing the words to sink in giving Max time to respond. After a beat, Max draws in a sharp breath.

“Of course I’m ready, I always have been. The only thing I’ve been hesitant on is leaving you at home while I’m halfway across the world.” He finally says, studying your face.

“Max,” you say, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek, “I would be okay. I have your sister, your mom and my friends that will be there while you're gone. I don’t want to wait for a “perfect” time, because that’s taboo. I want you and I want a family with you.”

After a moment, Max cracks a smile.

“Well, I guess we better start cracking then.”

“Really?” You say full of surprise.

“Of course, honey. You’re the most important person to me and, I know we’ve always beat around the bush with this but it’s only because I didn’t want you to feel alone in it. So as long as you're comfortable and ready, I’m ready too.” Max says pulling you into an embrace.

“But if anything happens while I’m away, call me and I will stop the car mid race to be next to you.” He says faking seriousness.

“Oh no, you’re finishing your races. Our baby will not have a quitter as a father.” You respond teasingly.

Although you say perfect timing was taboo, the universe was on your side for this because you went into labor shortly after the race in Monaco the next season. And Max, finished the race and was by your side through it all.

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

taglist: @bernelflo @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @f1updates4you @r0nnsblog @meglovesmclaren

[lunarxcity]

Why him? (Part II to Why me?)

azriel x rhys' sister! reader

angst/eventual comfort (Buckle up bc this part is in Azriel's Pov after reader left him for Autumn. I swear the comfort will come eventually)

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Part I if you missed it

-

Azriel has never been more confused in his long fae life. You guys have been perfectly in sync for hundreds of years, had seen each other at your bests and worsts and now it seems like everything is crumbling down and he doesn't even know what's happening. First, it had begun with his almost kiss with Elain, which Rhys had interrupted with probably the meanest thing he had ever said to him. Then, his shadows tell him that you're getting ready to leave for Autumn immediately without telling anyone.

He begins to tell Elain this when his first shadow, the one that had reached out to him in the depths of his father's dungeon, begins crying. He feels his shadow break away from himself and run to stop you from leaving. His shadow lets out a melancholic cry, unlike one he's ever heard from them. He feels the shadow's emotions, the panic and the fear of you leaving. You guys have never left for a mission without at least corresponding to one another.

He tells Elain that he that he thinks something is seriously wrong and he needs to see you right now to make sure everything is okay. He runs to your room and when he gets there, he sees it's already full of the rest of the inner circle minus Rhys. He watches as they go silent in his presence, each one a deer caught in the headlights.

The room immediately became thick with tension and he didn't know why. It couldn't have been because he brought Elain with him? He looks to you and you look almost sickly, trembling and heavy breathing with bleary, dull eyes that look drained of the life he had become accustomed to. Something was seriously wrong.

While Autumn had been one of the more problematic courts as far as diplomacy goes, it had been relatively stable recently. Beron's reign of terror has been suprisingly quiet lately. There shouldn't be any reason to send you there. Besides it wasn't a particularly safe court and Azriel would rather be sending 50 spies to their death than to put you in jeapordy.

The entire time he was in the room he felt that you had been off. For cauldron sake you had snapped at him when he had only been concerned for your safety. You don't do that. Well, not without reason of course, and he wanted to know the reason so he could fix it because that's what you guys do for each other. How was he going to do that when you wouldn't even look him in the eye.

It didn't help that he couldn't get a grip on his frantic shadow that was holding you down. It also didn't help that Eris appeared out of nowhere and whisked you away to Autumn before he could say anything. He was going to go after you when Rhys had shown up and told him to stand down. Rhys, who had said deplorable things to him about the Elain situation. But nevertheless, he choked down the hurt he had regarding his whole argument with his brother.

You had left so suddenly and now everyone in the room had gone quiet, the weight of your absence felt by everyone immediately. He didn't even get to give you your solstice gift.

Speaking of Solstice, everyone would usually stay up late drinking and laughing but the minute you left it felt as if someone took a bucket of ice water to every single person in that room. Rhys announced he was going to bed and everyone else agreed and followed. They said their goodnights in the most polite fashion, the way they would to a courtier not their brother on Solstice. Nesta dragged Elain away before she could retort that she needed to stay with Azriel.

All the warmth had seeped out of the room with your absence and he wondered if this was how it was going to be from now on without you. Although you hadn't been glued to the hip as you guys usually were, due to him spending more time with Elain he knows he would've noticed if there was something wrong. Deep down in his heart, as shrivelled and marred it had become, Azriel knew that something was seriously wrong and he committed himself to finding out what it was.

The spymaster is the perfect person to have been chosen to solve the mystery of your sudden switch up, and Azriel swore he would get down to the bottom of whatever it was. Him and Rhys have been vying in the competition of who knows you best for centuries. He decides to start his investigation by searching your room. Yes, it's technically an invasion of privacy but anything that puts you and your happiness or safety at risk is an emergency in Azriel's book.

He has his shadows scour around and nothing seems to be out of the ordinary minus the missing stuff you had packed. A dozen or so books missing, a quarter of your closet gone, and all the trunks you had in the closet were absent. You had packed a good amount of your stuff, enough to last you a month at the least and years at the most.

He begins to look for more clues, and he notices that you had left the stationary that he had gifted you on your 400th untouched on your desk. It started off with a simple stationary set with a gold-tipped quill and obsidian star-flecked ink, then when he saw your eyes light up he would find excuses to get you more ink and pens over the years. Now your giant desk is sprawling with different inks, wax seals, stamps, pens, quills, you name it it's there. You have never left the Night Court without at the very least the original set in tow. Even during the war, you packed the gold-tipped quill in your small bag.

Azriel's stomach dropped. He knew it probably wasn't malicious, and you had probably just been in a rush and had simply forgotten, but the idea that not even a small part of him was with you left an ugly feeling spreading throughout him.

He continued to look around the room and saw that you had left everything Azriel had ever given you. The training boots he had especially made for you sat worn out on the floor next to the bookshelf, which he now noticed only housed the books that Azriel had given you, which he had noticed was a substantial amount. The travel pack he had made for your measurements, since the Illyrian one's were quite large and heavy, was left on the floor with nothing but the first aid kit that he had requested Madja to make you in case of emergencies in it.

Azriel had spent countless hours in your room, but never realised how much he comprised it, but maybe that was because all traces of you were now gone. You took the jewellery that Mor had given you, books Nesta had lent you, even the blanket that Feyre had given you made from the Coat of the elusive WinterBeast. It doesn't even get cold enough in Autumn for you to use it. You even took the apron that Cassian sewed you the one time Nesta dragged him to a sewing class on date night. For Cauldron's sakes you even took the enchanted ruby ring that Amren gave you, why would you do that when you prefer Saphire. He had noticed that when you had left, you changed out your regular sapphire jewellery in exchange for the purple diamonds and starlight emblems that Rhysand had given you.

Yes they were Night Court family colours, but it was the first time he had seen you without any blue for a while. He didn't like it. You were a sentimental person and had brought pieces of everyone in the family with you, except for him and Elain. Maybe this was your way of protesting their sneaking around, especially with talks of a Blood Duel coming into play, but you have never outright avoided him before.

He continued to pace around the room, trying to come up with solutions and possibilities, when his foot hit a box that had been hiding under your bed. Perfect cobalt blue wrapping with a silver bow, Azriel knew he had just found his Solstice present.

Hiding Solstice presents from Azriel had always been hard work. The shadows would see and get excited and tell their master of the gifts long before they were wrapped and under the tree. You, however, were somehow the only one who could surprise him. You refused to let him find out, leading to you not even putting your present under the tree. He would receive his gift late at night when everyone had gone to bed, and the stars in the sky were fighting to stay up, the threat of sunlight imminently close. You would creep around in the shadows of him and steal leftover Solstice cookies and have your own gift opening either in one of your rooms or next to the embers of the fire that had been roaring all night.

Azriel had committed many atrocities in his life, his line of work almost required it. He didn't know what came after this life, and every day, he wondered if the Mother would even let him go on knowing all that he had done in this one. To go against the Mother was one thing, but to go against you was another. Azriel knew that he would forsake the Mother a hundred times over before he would forsake you. Even if this present was meant to be his anyways, you aren't here to give it to him so how does he know he can take it? But what if this present is actually a clue, and you purposefully hid it to spite him. You were still Rhys' blood, you guys can get a little petty at times.

Besides he did technically give you your Solstice present. Azriel always had an easy time with gifts, he listens in on conversations about what people want and gives it to them. While there is a lack of sentimentality there, everyone is happy so why does it matter?

But you always give the most thoughtful gifts, the gifts people didn't know they wanted but needed. He tries to keep up with you, but he just isn't sentimental enough to be good at those kinds of gifts. He gifted Elain a necklace, because that's what the jeweler said that women liked. For you though, he knew he had to come up with something big.

He came up with his gift months ago when Azriel had to go on a month-long mission to help keep the Spring Court from falling. When he came back, his first shadow darted to you, swirling around you happily. It had been whispering about you constantly during his time away and had only calmed down in your presence. It clicked for him, and while this shadow is the most important to him, the one that had reached out in the darkness when he was at his lowest, he knew deep down that it in some way it had belonged to you. Always preferring your company to his, always asking about your whereabouts, always calming down in your presence. He told his shadow and the shadow was elated the shadow came up with different ideas to always be with you, as a bracelet, in your hair, even as a part of your shadow.

While others had always been weary of his shadows, you treated them like a pet. Talking to them, petting them, and never missing an opportunity to call them cute. While the shadows are sentient, they are a manifestation of himself, and where others cowered in fear you embraced them wholeheartedly. It was probably the most intimate thing that Azriel had ever done for anyone he even had a mini speech written down about how grateful he was to have you in his life, but he never got to give it to you because you left before he had the chance. He didn't realise that the shadow had managed to escape with you until after you were gone.

You had just left but he missed you. The lack of knowledge of your return had him spiraling. He needed to know why you left because then he could know how to bring you back. In his desperation for answers and current lack of a better judgement he decides to open the present.

He rips open the cobalt wrapping paper to find a navy box littered with silver stars that looked like the night sky. He takes off the lid of the box and starts ruffling through the shiny paper you stuffed the box with, an extra layer of protection to block his shadows from seeing what was in the gift.

The first thing he had pulled out was a matching blade and sheath. The hilt was intricate, it started blue and bled into a violet littered with specks that he could only see after turning it over, pure starlight. The hilt had little stars and swirls engraved in it, an Illyrian design, but the actual shape of the blade and craft of the blade hailed from Dawn.

The blade of a Peregryn general was the sharpest and lightest blade that you could find in Prythian. The craftsmanship is a very regulated process and no one is able to get them. No one else is allowed to wield them and the blade dies with the Peregryn, they are blood bound. They are heavily enchanted and are basically a lifeline for any peregryn soldier. They only break when warding off a death blow.

There usually a bit smaller, no bigger than a throwing knife. He pulled out truthteller to compare the size and it was a perfect match. The matching sheath was gorgeous, all dark leather and intricate designs. More swirls of shadows and stars and little specks of blue and purple, a mix of you and Azriel.

He was aghast. He had mentioned being bitter about the Peregryn blades and made a joke about how Illyrians were the better winged fae in the past Mother knows how long ago, but he never thought you would actually be able to acquire one, let alone customise it to his liking.

He was touched, but he tried to suppress his feelings so he could maintain his control and continued to look through the box. The only other thing was a pair of gloves, but knowing you, they must have been a lot more than a pair of gloves. Also from the Dawn court, they had the same level of intricacy in their design and appeared to match the rest.

Azriel put a glove on and felt immediate relief. You knew that the cold would sometimes aggravate the scars on his hands and while he was still able to function for all these years, it wasn't comfortable to say the least. Azriel hated asking for help, he couldn't do it, so he has suffered in silence, enduring like he always does. You had these gloves imbued with a healing magic, from the Dawn Court, the court with the best healers in Prythian.

He knew that you had likely spent years crafting these gifts and working with blacksmiths and healers, calling in favor after favor, swaying high lords all for his sake. No one has ever done something like this for him.

His heart swells and then breaks. You had done all of this for him and now he had let you down without knowing why. You gave him a lifeline and he was going to waste it on a Blood Duel with Lucien Vanserra. He was going to waste years of work you had put into this surprise trying to take someone’s mate away from them, the very thing he had always wanted. Shame fills him and the thoughts begin to flood his mind.

The thoughts of how he doesn't deserve you. Thoughts of how he has failed you and will never be able to fix that damage that he unknowingly did. Thoughts of how you finally saw the faults in him like everyone else and you had decided that enough was enough and you decided you didn’t want anything to do with him. Thoughts of how he had lost the one person who had always been unconditionally there for him.

The thoughts just keep coming and he doesn’t know how to stop them. His shadows frantically swirled around him unable to deal with the distress of their master. Mental distress becomes physical and the weight of existence is heavy on his chest.

Azriel falls to his knees and holds his new blade, your blade, to the left side of his chest. He crumples in on himself and the shadows surround him. Wetness begins to stream down his face and he can’t even begin to comprehend why. What is this agony he was feeling.

His vision blurs, not that it matters since his shadows surround him and block the light. His breathing is erratic and his heart is nearly pounding out of his chest. His chest swells with emotion heavy as pain, almost as if there was a phantom knife lodged in his chest. He had never felt this way before, he was very good at keeping his composure but right now he was a complete and utter mess.

Trying to get himself together before he completely falls apart he’s able to prop himself up against your bed. Your scent immediately hits him and a wave of comfort rolls over him. Even in your absence you’re taking him down off the ledge. The minute he picked up your scent it was like he was finally able to think clearly.

He was emotionally and physically spent from all that had happened tonight, he needed the small comfort of whatever part of you he could get. You would laugh at him for this and scold him for not writing a letter, he would give anything for you to walk in and say something like how he’s a big illyrian baby who can never ask for help. You would laugh and stay with him until he feels like he can be alone again. You were meant to be here laughing with him and crying over how touched you were by his gift, instead he was here by himself crying because of how touched he was by yours and how he wishes you were here.

Like a child that just had a nightmare, he crawls into your bed and wraps himself up in the blankets and your scent. His body relaxed, his heart rate steadies, his breathing evens, and his shadows calm. Everything instantly feels better and what seemed like the end of the world moments ago now seems manageable. Your scent lulls him to edge of sleep and he drifts off with thoughts of you on his mind.

-

taglist: @chaosabroad @bbontenswhhore @tele86 @ashblooddragons

note: I really tried to get this out in 24 hours so it may be a bit rushed and completely unedited... but thank you everyone for your support and thank you for everyone on the taglist! This may be a bit of a boring chapter, but I feel like it's necessary to flesh out the relationship between the reader and Azriel. Until next time!

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (h.k) ♡

pairing: huening kai x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.7k warnings: mention/description of reader's nudes, mention of reader in lingerie, brief mention of masturbation, implication of sexy time at the end, kai gets a hard-on, everybody’s horny synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | soobin ver. | beomgyu ver. | taehyun ver. |

masterlist

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huening kai likes to think of himself as something of a y/n connoisseur.

as your best friend, he knows all your likes, and all your dislikes; he knows what gets your jaw ticking, and what exactly makes you blush.

(he especially knows how to get you to do both.)

huening kai prides himself on knowing nearly all the ins and outs of you, but one thing that he doesn't know, that drives him straight up the wall and keeps him up late at night when he can't seem to sleep...

is whether you feel the same way about him.

to everyone else but you, apparently, it's no secret that kai has quite the crush. but what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to tell you that he wishes it were you he could wrap his arms around instead of the mound of plushies scattered over his bed, or that every time he touches himself, it's only the thought of you that brings him over the edge?

how is he supposed to tell you that you're not just a friend to him? that he wants to be more?

this is what he finds himself pondering yet again as he sits at the drum set in his university band’s practice room, mindlessly tapping the stick in his left hand against the snare, his wandering thoughts leading to half-assed vigor as his bandmate eyes him in mild annoyance from where he sits across the room tuning his guitar.

kai glances at the clock.

she should’ve texted by now… she said 3, right?

his best friend taehyun always jokes that anyone would know huening kai is down bad when he actually checks his phone for someone, and kai has to admit that he’s right.

you’ve got him hooked; how else does he explain the fact that you actually get responses out of him — and much quicker than he’d rather acknowledge — while the guys only get to hear from him, if they’re lucky, about every 3-5 business years? (beomgyu’s exaggeration, not his.)

and yet the only one who doesn’t see it is you.

today he waits for you to show him your haul from the japan trip you just got back from with his sisters — “are you sure i can’t come with you?” “it’s a girl’s trip, kai, and i don’t know how good you’d look in a dress.” — and after how excited you’d sounded over the phone to show him the whole array of plushies and snacks and anime trinkets you’d bought, including some gifts for him, he can’t help but watch wistfully as the minute hand ticks onwards towards 3:27pm.

why is she late..? she didn’t forget, did she?

now, kai is a very patient person; he has no problem with giving people their space.

and with anyone else, he wouldn’t really mind too much if it’s been a while since he’s seen them.

but with you…

he sighs.

you... you’re different.

about 10 more minutes pass and he’s resorted to banging out his thoughts on the drums, almost finally focused on what he came here to be doing in the first place, until he feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he’s quick to halt his practice run and fish it out.

he smiles to himself at the sight of your name on his screen;

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : hyuka, i’m sorry i’m late!! i got caught up with something.. ㅠㅠ here are the main pics for now, and i can show you everything in full when you come over later hehe <3

god, how does she make everything sound so cute…

he clicks on the first picture, a small laugh immediately bubbling past his lips at the sight of your barely visible form squished behind the giant plushie you’d seemingly wrestled into the taxi coming back from the airport — he keeps scrolling, seeing some more pictures from the trip but mainly the ones he figures you’d just now taken: your little haul spread across your bed, displaying all the various items you’d bought and couldn’t wait to show him.

“man, how much did she buy?” he murmurs to himself as he glances at the picture count at the top of the screen and sees that there’s still 8 left.

22/30.

“i thought that was everythi—“

CRASH.

the drumsticks in his free hand slip to the ground with a loud clatter, meeting the hi-hat cymbals on the way down in a jarring cacophony akin to the way his brain feels right now as his thoughts stutter, nearly choking on his own spit, fumbling to maintain a steady grip on his phone and ignoring his bandmate’s question of “dude, are you good?” as he stares with comically wide eyes down at the sight on the screen in front of him.

y-you- s-she- what do i-

kai’s mouth runs dry.

so this is what you were “caught up with”.

the heat that travels down to his unsuspecting cock moves in record time as he takes in the 23rd photo: a selfie angled from slightly above, of you perched on the edge of your bed in a cute frilly set of LINGERIE that leaves hardly anything to the imagination, like something out of a playboy lolita magazine of his dreams — the circuits in his brain are working overtime to keep from shorting as his eyes rove intensely over your dizzying figure.

your accentuated cleavage, the plushness of your thighs, how soft the material looks against your skin…

fuck, his own skin is burning.

he can’t even believe that this is real life when he scrolls through a few more and lands on the image that will hereby without a single doubt be burned into his brain forever — you’d let the straps of the flimsy top slip down your shoulders, and now your boobs are out, a real life anime nosebleed moment about to happen for kai as he gapes and flushes at the visualization of his own wet dreams come to life.

zooming in on your thighs (for science), he then notices the tag still attached to your sheer little panties — so you got this lingerie in japan too, and oh my god —

wait, wait, wait—

he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, forcing himself to calm down a little as he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath.

did she actually mean to send these pictures? should i even be looking? did she really want to show me this too? did she... did she buy it for….

he can’t finish the thought.

kai’s rock-hard cock just somehow got harder.

he doesn’t have to battle through his moral musings for much longer, though, because suddenly his phone starts buzzing with a rapid slew of notifications; he nearly jumps as he sees that they’re all from you, and he swallows hard, feeling like he just got caught doing something bad as he hesitates before sliding back to the chat.

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : KAI WAIT DON’T OPEN THOSE STOP — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : WAIT WAIT WAIT PLEASE — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : KAI JUST DELETE THEM DON’T EVEN LOOK OKAY

he stares frozen at your messages. he knows that you can see he’s read them; he knows he needs to say something.

but now all kinds of new thoughts are circulating through his head.

so it was just an accident? should i try to lie for her sake? do i just say that i didn’t open them yet?

…and if they weren’t meant for me… then who were they meant for?

the irksome twist in his gut is foreign, and he doesn’t like it, not one bit.

but then you keep going... and quickly he realizes that the hole you’ve now begun digging yourself into is finally his ticket to heaven.

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : you’re not saying anything fuck fuck fuck okay — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : okay look — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : you probably think i’m a psycho pervert — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : i probably just fucked up our entire friendship and i’m so sorry — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : i just saw the set and thought it was cute and it made me think of you and i kinda just bought it spontaneously you know and i was just kinda in my feelings so i took the pictures with the rest of the haul but i didn’t mean to send those ones i swear so just pretend this whole thing never happened and we can just be normal okay pls — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : WAIT NO I DIDN’T MEAN IT MADE ME THINK OF YOU LIKE, YOU KNOW LIKE *THAT* THAT’S NOT WJAT I MEANT — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : FUCK I DON’T KNLW WHAT I MEANT

kai’s heartbeat roars in his ears (and his cock) as he processes your admission.

she bought it because of me.

he can’t help but grin.

she feels the same way.

huening kai has never been the best at expressing himself, but he knows this is an opportunity that he’d rather die than not take as he takes a deep breath, giddily lowers his thumbs to the screen, and begins to type.

you pace around your room with your lip caught nervously between your teeth and nothing but dread looming over you as the minutes tick by with no response —

fuck, i’ve ruined everything. i’ve ruined it all.

and when your phone finally buzzes with a text, you almost don’t even want to read it.

but steeling yourself, you take a peek —

a sharp inhale. tingles like fire across your skin.

his calm response:

— hyuka! <3 : can i still come over?

your fingers stall dumbly over the keyboard.

is he… going along with it? pretending nothing happened? or… or is he… does he mean….?!

you gulp.

— you : i mean.. of course, if you still want to.. — hyuka! <3 : okay! :)

o…okay..? what is he-

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the next messages that come through, the flood of warmth that shoots immediately down between your thighs leaving you teetering as you stumble back down into a sitting position on the edge of your bed.

— hyuka! <3 : oh, and you should keep the set on — hyuka! <3 : you said you’d show me everything in full, after all.

huening kai has never moved with such determination than the way he does right now as he rises from the drum set and grabs his things, beelining for the door with his jacket held in front of him to hide the raging hard-on in his pants as he calls to his bewildered bandmate, “sorry, gotta head out!” and leaves the practice room in a heady rush.

he knows how you feel now — and he can’t wait to show you face-to-face exactly how much he returns the sentiment.

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— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @kejingken, @hyukascampfire, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13, @cha3sonly

if you want to be added to my taglist and get notified whenever i post any writing, drop a comment or an ask and let me know! ♡

[cei1ne]

—How the Bakusquad reacts to you in lingerie for the first time! PT.1 (AGED!UP)

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* . ｡ ✿ *Summary: The aged up MHA men see you in lingerie for the FIRST time ever

☾ ⋆*･ﾟPairing: Bakugou Katsuki ; Kirishima Eijirou ; Denki Kaminari ; Sero Hanta

˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇Tags/Warnings: Teasing ; Lingerie ; Hero x reader ; Seduction ; Hickeys ; Body Worship

⑅୨୧⑅*Wordcount: 8k

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷A/N: Yeah this is my first time writing smut but this only like fufu ass smut like nothing too serious other than high school locker stuff but yeah enjoy it

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Bakugou Katsuki – “The Moment You Asked For This, You Sealed Your Fate.”

It’s not that Bakugou Katsuki has a problem with being caught off guard. No, he’s usually the one catching others off guard. He’s the one who keeps everyone on their toes with his temper, his sharp tongue, and his volatile nature. But there’s something about you standing in front of him, dressed in lingerie, that paralyzes him.

His eyes go wide for a brief second, then narrow as his breath catches. He stares at you as though you just hit him with an explosive blast of your own. His usual smirk falters as his gaze travels over every inch of your body, the lace hugging your curves in all the right places, the delicate fabric making your skin appear even softer under his scrutiny.

“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath, and for once, you can tell he’s genuinely stunned.

Bakugou Katsuki, the hard-ass hero, the guy who’s never caught off guard, is now standing there in shock. His voice is hoarse as he speaks again. “Damn it, Y/N. What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

You take a step closer to him, unable to help the playful smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “What? Don’t like it?”

He takes an instinctive step back, his fists clenching, his mouth a tight line. “Like it?” He scoffs. “You’re fuckin’ with me, aren’t you?”

The tension in the air is electric, crackling between you two. He’s always been the type of guy who likes control, who’s used to having everything in the palm of his hand. But with you standing there, looking so fucking perfect, all his self-control is slowly slipping through his fingers.

You could almost laugh at the sight of his discomfort, but you know what you’re doing. You’ve been planning this moment, knowing full well that the shock factor would break his usual barriers.

His eyes are burning now—red hot—as he takes a step toward you, voice turning low, needy. “You think this is some joke? You think you can wear this and make me just lose my mind?”

You know he’s always had a thing for you. He’s never been subtle about it, but you also know the kind of guy Bakugou is—he’s the type to make everything intense and passionate, even when it’s about something like this. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, the way he’s trying to keep his composure, but it’s becoming more and more obvious that he can’t.

“Maybe I want you to lose control, Katsuki,” you tease, taking a bold step forward. You know how to handle him now, how to get under his skin. He might be the explosive one in most situations, but when it comes to you, it’s a whole different story.

Bakugou smirks slightly before frowning again slightly— no, not frowning, but scowling. He wasn’t mad. Just a little disappointed. Because he didn’t get to fucking see this masterpiece on you before. Damn it, he’s gonna buy you twenty different cookies of them.

He pulls away for a moment, his breath ragged as he looks down at you, eyes filled with frustration. “You really think you’re gonna make it easy on me, huh? You don’t know what the hell you’re doing, do you?”

You chuckle softly, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw. “You act like I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”

He stares at you for a long, tense moment, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath. “Yeah?” His voice is dark now, horny. “Then you know that the second you put that on… there’s no going back.”

And with that, he moves—fast. In one fluid motion, he spins you around, pushing you up against the nearest wall. His hands slide down your body, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the softness of the fabric you’re wearing. His lips find your neck, and he begins to trail hot, breathy kisses down the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing against you just enough to leave a mark.

“You’ve had your fun, but now it’s my turn,” he says against your skin.

His hands are everywhere, groping every part. He would be lying if he said this wasn’t all he ever dreamed off.

He unties your bra urgently and his hands quickly move to busy themselves.

His lips leave your neck to devour your mouth once again, this time with more frenzy, more desperation. You can feel the heat building between you, the way his body presses into yours, his hard muscles aligning with your softer curves. He pushes you harder into the wall, and you moan softly at the intensity of it all. His hands are already at your waist, undoing the clasp of your lingerie with a speed that leaves you breathless.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me.” His voice is low, guttural, and it sends a shock of electricity straight down your spine.

Before you can respond, your panties are off and then you went to heaven.

Kirishima Eijiro – “When You Show Him a Side of You He’s Never Seen Before.”

Kirishima was always the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. His enthusiasm and exuberant energy were infectious, and it was hard not to love the guy. He prided himself on being a “manly man,” always ready to protect, to stand strong, and to be the rock in any situation. But tonight, things felt different.

When you had suggested a quiet night at home after a long week of training, Kirishima was all for it. He loved spending time with you, even if it meant winding down in the calm of the evening. But the moment he walked through the door and caught sight of you, dressed in the delicate lace lingerie you’d been hiding, everything changed.

At first, he stood in the doorway, frozen, blinking rapidly as if trying to figure out if what he was seeing was real. His gaze scanned your figure, the way the fabric hugged your curves and made your skin glow. His breath caught in his throat.

“Y/N… wh-what the heck?!” His voice was hoarse, almost sounding like he’d forgotten how to speak. His body seemed to lock in place, his muscles tightening in shock, as he stared at you with wide, almost disbelieving eyes.

You stood in front of him, feeling a rush of confidence despite his stunned reaction. “Do you like it?” you asked innocently, but the playful glint in your eyes made it clear you were trying to make him flustered.

Kirishima’s eyes flickered down to the floor for a moment, his usually carefree demeanor replaced with something much more… serious. The red flush on his cheeks was a dead giveaway—he wasn’t used to being caught off guard like this.

“Like it?” He let out a breathless laugh, scratching the back of his head in a nervous gesture. “I… I don’t even know what to say. You look… stunning.” His voice trembled slightly at the last word.

You took a step closer to him, and he took an involuntary step back, as if unsure whether he should touch you or not. Kirishima was the type to be respectful and honorable. He would never rush you, always being considerate of your comfort. But at this moment, he was clearly struggling to hold onto that composure. His body language was a dead giveaway—his broad shoulders were tense, and his hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“C’mon, Eijiro,” you teased, stepping even closer. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

That was the final straw. His hands shot out to grab your waist, pulling you toward him with surprising gentleness but also an underlying urgency. His lips immediately found yours, hot and hungry, as though he had been starved for you. The kiss wasn’t desperate, but it was intense, as if every moment of hesitation he’d had before this had been erased in the span of seconds.

When he pulled away, he let out a soft chuckle, still holding you close. “You really know how to get me all flustered, huh?” He pressed his forehead against yours, laughing lightly. “But, damn it, I’m not just gonna stand here like an idiot. You sure you’re ready for this?”

You felt your heart race at his words, knowing that Kirishima had always been the type of guy to want to make sure both of you were comfortable and ready before anything went further. But at the same time, his body language said everything—it was clear that he wanted you. Badly.

“I think I’m ready,” you whispered, “but are you?”

Oh he was more than ready.

His face flushed a deeper red, and his fingers curled into the fabric of your lingerie, gently pushing it aside. “Hell yeah.”

His lips found your neck next, and soft, gentle kisses quickly became something much more heated as his hands explored your body, tracing the lines of your curves with tender touches. Kirishima’s touch was never rough—it was always considerate and full of affection, but tonight, he was breaking through that barrier. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, pulling you against him more firmly.

You let out a soft moan when his lips traveled lower, the fire of his kisses leaving trails of warmth on your skin. “Kirishima…” you breathed, your fingers threading through his spiky hair as you pulled him closer. The way his body pressed into yours, the heat radiating from him, made you feel like you were melting against him.

His kisses were passionate now, not just out of desire but out of the raw emotion he felt for you. His hands were everywhere—tender, but with the kind of determination that told you he wasn’t going to hold back anymore. As he moved, you could feel him slowly losing himself in the moment, his kisses becoming more intense and possessive, as though he needed to prove to both of you that you belonged together like this.

“I’ve got you, Y/N,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “I won’t let you go. Not now.”

And with that, the man who had always been the rock in your life, the one who could hold it all together, was now the one giving himself over to you completely. The moment felt like timeless bliss, the world outside fading as Kirishima’s love and affection wrapped around you in the most tender of ways.

Denki Kaminari – “When His Jokes Take a Different Turn.”

Denki Kaminari was known for being the goofball. His carefree attitude and quick-witted humor had earned him the title of the goofy one in the group. But underneath that playful, energetic exterior, there was something deeper that he only let a few people see. With you, Denki felt like he could let go of his usual antics and embrace the more vulnerable side of himself—the side that wanted to take care of you, protect you, and make you feel loved.

Tonight, however, things were different. He had been teasing you all day, cracking jokes and making everyone laugh, but now, standing in front of you with your body adorned in nothing but lingerie, Denki was struggling to find his usual charm.

As soon as he stepped through the door, you stood there, your figure illuminated by the soft light from the lamp, the delicate lace hugging your curves in the most alluring way. You could see the shock in his eyes, the way his body stiffened before he even spoke. His lips parted in an almost comical fashion as he tried to form words.

“Y/N… Wh-what the heck are you wearing?” His voice cracked slightly, his usual confidence replaced with a mix of awe and confusion. The sight of you in that lingerie was so unexpected, it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

You stood there, an innocent smile tugging at your lips, clearly amused by his reaction. “You like it?” you asked, letting your voice carry a playful edge.

Denki’s face turned a deep shade of red as he tried to process the situation. His eyes flickered down to the floor for a moment, clearly struggling to hold onto his usual flirtatious banter. “Like it?” he repeated, his voice cracking again. “I don’t even… I can’t even think straight right now. You—damn, Y/N—you look… amazing.”

His breath hitched as he nervously ran a hand through his messy hair. The typical goofball in him was completely overtaken by the intensity of the moment. He looked like he was caught between being his usual teasing self and desperately wanting to take control of the situation. His usual banter and teasing tone were completely gone now, replaced with the kind of raw admiration that made your heart race.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state, stepping forward to close the gap between the two of you. “Well, Kaminari,” you purred, “I was hoping I could surprise you. I thought you’d like the view.”

Denki’s eyes widened, his entire body seemingly frozen. He stared at you for a long moment, his pupils dilated, as if trying to drink you in. Slowly, almost as if he were still unsure whether this was real or some kind of fever dream, he took a step toward you, then another, until he was standing right in front of you.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” His voice was rough now, his usual playful tone laced with a deep, breathy desire. “I swear, Y/N, I didn’t expect this. I mean, yeah, you’re gorgeous, but this… this is next level.” He hesitated for a split second, clearly battling his nerves. Then, with a deep, drawn-out sigh, he reached out to gently touch your waist, as if he were afraid that if he touched you too quickly, you might disappear.

You laughed softly, the sound soft and intimate as you leaned into him. “You’ve got to relax, Denki,” you said, your voice a little more serious now, with a hint of teasing. “You’re making me feel like I’m the one who’s not ready for this.”

His hands froze for a moment, then tightened around you, pulling you toward him gently. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “No, no, I’m more than ready for this.” His words were low and hushed, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s just that… you’re seriously blowing my mind right now, Y/N.”

He gave a short laugh, but the sound was edged with nervousness, as though he was trying to regain some control over the situation. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before leaning in to kiss you, his lips brushing yours tentatively at first, almost like he was testing the waters.

As the kiss deepened, Denki’s hands moved slowly, gently exploring your body, running over your curves as if memorizing every inch of you. The moment his fingers brushed the soft lace of your lingerie, he groaned softly, breaking the kiss for a moment to look down at you with wide eyes.

“God, Y/N, you’re so perfect,” he muttered, voice thick with desire. His hands moved down your body, his fingertips grazing over your skin, sending electric shivers through your body. His touch was light, almost reverent, like he was unsure whether to go further or hold back.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back into the kiss. Denki responded eagerly, the playful teasing now gone as his lips moved with passion. His hands roamed over your body more urgently now, and you could feel the heat building between you both.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Denki breathed against your lips, his voice still a little shaky, but filled with desire. “I always thought I’d be the one making you flustered, but right now, you’ve got me totally messed up.”

The more he spoke, the more confident his movements became. He moved down to your neck, kissing and nibbling the soft skin, his hands slipping underneath the fabric of your lingerie. Every touch felt like electricity, as though his own energy was transferring into your skin with every caress.

He found that sensitive spot on your neck, the one he knew would make you gasp, and nipped at it gently. The reaction was immediate. You let out a soft moan, and Denki grinned against your skin, his hands sliding down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

“Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable,” he whispered, voice low and heavy with desire. His hands tightened around you, and his lips found yours again in a deep, passionate kiss as he carried you to the bedroom. The moment he laid you down on the bed, he paused, staring down at you with a mixture of awe and hunger.

“Damn, Y/N, I swear, every time I think I know you, you surprise me. But this… this is something else.”

Sero Hanta – “When His Playful Side Turns Into Something More.”

Sero Hanta had always been the easy-going, funny guy in the group. His lighthearted humor and goofy grin made him the kind of person people could rely on for a good laugh or to break the ice. But behind his playful demeanor, there was a side of him that you knew well: the side that cared deeply, the side that was protective and serious when needed, and the side that, tonight, was on full display.

You had been spending more time together lately, and his natural flirtations and jokes had always made you smile. However, tonight, things were a little different. It wasn’t the usual “goofy” Sero, cracking jokes or pulling pranks. No, tonight, you were going to make him melt.

You’d prepared for this moment—just a little surprise for him. When he’d invited you over, you decided to take things up a notch. He was always so confident, but you had a feeling he’d never expect this. You had picked out a new piece of lingerie that you felt incredibly confident in, but more importantly, you knew it would make Sero’s head spin. As you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate lace and fabric, your heart raced. You knew it wasn’t just the surprise; it was the trust and intimacy you shared with him that made this moment feel electric.

The moment Sero stepped through the door, you could see it in his eyes: the instant recognition of something being out of the ordinary. His gaze flickered to you, widening as his lips parted in an almost comical fashion. For a split second, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, looking you up and down like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

His voice was a little breathless when he finally spoke. “Y/N, you—are you trying to kill me?” His hands instinctively went to his hair, messing it up as he stared at you in shock. You could see his chest rise and fall slightly quicker than usual as he took in the sight of you, clearly overwhelmed.

You let a slow smile form on your lips, a playful glint in your eyes as you approached him. “Do you like it, Sero?” you teased, tilting your head slightly as you reached out to gently trace his jawline with your fingertips.

Sero let out a deep exhale, almost like he was trying to steady himself. “Like it? Y/N, I—” His voice cracked for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I don’t even know where to begin with this. You look… unreal.”

He stepped closer to you now, his eyes full of awe and desire. There was no mistaking it—the flirtatious Sero was gone, replaced by a side of him that wanted to be serious and close. The moment his hands brushed over your hips, you could feel his fingers tremble slightly, as though he was trying to gain control of his emotions and desires. His touch was soft, tender even, as though he were handling something precious.

“You’ve got me at a loss for words, Y/N,” Sero murmured, his voice low and hoarse. He placed a hand gently on your waist, as if grounding himself. His thumb traced circles over your skin as his gaze traveled from your face to the lingerie hugging your body so perfectly. “This isn’t what I expected when I walked in here.”

You took a step closer, the proximity between you growing as you could feel the heat building in the room. “What did you expect?” you asked with a teasing smile, moving your body closer to his.

Sero’s eyes darkened, and he laughed—a quiet, almost nervous laugh. “Honestly? I don’t even know anymore. But, damn, this is more than I could have ever imagined.”

The sound of his voice, thick with desire, made you shiver slightly. You could feel his hands on your hips tighten, and for a moment, everything else in the room faded away. It was just the two of you, drawn together by the undeniable chemistry.

“You look so good, Y/N. I didn’t know it was possible for you to look even more beautiful, but you just… wow.” His fingers trailed up your back slowly, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his body press against yours as he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as if he were savoring the moment.

“You’re making me lose it here,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You pulled back just a little to look at him, catching his gaze. There was a mix of desire, affection, and something deeper in his eyes—something you had been hoping to see for a long time.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you asked, your voice soft, but full of intent.

Sero swallowed hard. “No. It’s not bad at all. It’s just… it’s overwhelming.”

His lips met yours in a kiss that was slow at first, gentle even, as though he wanted to make sure you were comfortable. But as your hands moved up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate. Sero’s hands roamed over your body, his touch hungry and desperate as he explored the soft curves of your figure, his fingertips tracing every inch of you.

“God, Y/N, you’re going to make me lose my mind,” he muttered between kisses. His voice was rough now, the teasing tone completely gone. In its place was a raw, hungry desire that made your pulse quicken.

His lips traveled from your mouth to your neck, kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin there. You let out a soft moan, and the sound drove him wild. His hands were everywhere now, hips, your thighs and pulling you against him as his lips continued their path down your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made your skin tingle.

“You’re so perfect,” Sero breathed, his words filled with awe as his hands moved beneath the lace of your lingerie, brushing against your skin. His fingers moved slowly, savoring every touch, every inch of you. “I’m so lucky to be here with you, Y/N.”

You responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him back into another heated kiss, your body pressing fully against his. The way he kissed you was all-consuming—gentle at times, but with a growing intensity that left you breathless. His hands found their way to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and placing you down gently on the bed.

He hovered over you, his body just inches from yours, his breath heavy as he looked at you with an expression that was both tender and possessive. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you reached up to pull him closer, your hands sliding down his chest. He groaned softly as you ran your hands over the fabric of his shirt, pulling it off with ease. There was no hesitation now—only the overwhelming need to be close, to feel each other fully

The moment your skin made contact, Sero let out a low growl of satisfaction. “Y/N, you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this.”

His hands moved to your lingerie again, this time pulling it off carefully, savoring the way your body reacted to every touch. His lips followed his hands, kissing every inch of skin that was revealed to him, leaving a trail of love bites and gentle kisses along your collarbone and shoulders.

“I’m not letting you go,” he whispered against your skin, and in that moment, you knew—he wasn’t going anywhere.

Part 2?

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 1 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 1: I Love You

Synopsis: You and Jack survived the horrors of war together. But when the dust settled, you realised that coming home and going back to the way things used to be were two very different things. Though you and Jack parted ways romantically, the bond you shared remained, shaped by a past neither of you could forget. With Robby, it was different. Loving him was easy and he loved you deeply in return. But when Robby walked away, haunted by his own unresolved pain, your world shattered. Still, you continued to show up - for your patients, your colleagues and somehow for yourself. Until a patient presents with injuries that mirror your own past trauma and the unspoken tension between you, Jack and Robby resurfaces, threatening to unravel everything you’ve tried to move past.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series will deal with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies and heartbreak >>> Girlies this will be super sad,,,with some comfort at the end, I promise

Word count: 1079

A/n: The Pitt and our saddest boys have literally pulled me out of tumblr retirement!! If love triangles aren't your thing, I apologize in advance... Couldn't decide between the two, now they're both the reader's exes... Bon appétit.

Next Chapter (2): Please Forgive Me

Your breaths are ragged, uneven. You try to steady yourself on the gurney, but everything feels unreal. Desperate, you search for something to anchor you in reality. You glance down at your hands. They look strange, pressing into the patient’s chest in a rhythm you know all too well.

A familiar voice cuts through the haze, but you don’t react.

The voice comes again, "Y/N?"

“Fuck, Robby! I’ve got it okay?!” You snap, your hands moving on autopilot.

Shit. You really didn’t mean that.

A few faint gasps from the staff break the silence. It’s like you’ve been ripped out of a nightmare. Robby used to do that, be your lifeline when the terrors threatened to pull you under.

You huff a shaky breath, searching his eyes for something, though you're not sure what. But you find it. He doesn’t say anything, yet somehow, comfort floods you. And guilt, so much guilt.

Robby steps closer, arms crossed, pressing his lips together before he tries again. Softer, like a whisper in the night, "Are we ready to call it?"

The question snaps you back to the present. "No. No!" You share a quick glance with Jack, who is working the patient with you.

"Okay. Hold compressions", Robby says gently, but firm.

You comply, everyone's eyes fixed on the monitor, dread setting in.

"Still in asystole", you hear Donnie behind you.

Jack motions for you to switch out. You step back and he resumes.

"Let’s push one more round of epi", you beg, eyes bouncing between Jack and Robby.

Robby nods. Mateo pushes another amp, as you take over compressions for another round.

Robby checks his watch. "That’s it. Stop compressions", a familiar sadness in his voice.

You comply eventually, but cannot bring yourself to look up.

The air is thick, suffocating.

Jack calls it, knowing you can't. "Time of death, 12:36".

A breath escapes you that you didn’t realize you were holding. You look at the woman lying before you and see yourself.

Still. Sleeping. Almost peaceful, if it weren’t for the tube down her throat. Gently, you touch her hand. "I’m so sorry", you whisper.

"Why don’t we take a minute and then debrief with Kiara?", Robby suggests. The nurses and techs leave the room quietly.

You stay, frozen. Jack and Robby don’t move either.

"I can do the notification, Y/N...", Robby offers softly.

"I'll do it", you counter too harshly.

Robby and Jack exchange a look. You pretend you don’t see it.

Jack opens the door to the family room, holding it as you step inside cautiously, Robby following behind. You all sit, facing the husband of your deceased patient.

The weight of what you’re about to say hangs heavy in the air. You wait, just one more minute, as if delaying it could change the outcome.

You study the husband's eyes: fear, hope, maybe both. Every movement feels deliberate. You're about to shatter this man's world. And he will hate you for it.

You begin to speak, your words soft and measured.

Dana watches you through the glass doors. The husband's sobs echo through the hallway, the sound raw and aching.

"Do you think she was-" The husband can't finish the thought.

"Scared?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates, then nods.

"No", you answer gently.

You feel Jack and Robby’s eyes on you, their sadness palpable. You don’t look at them, but the image of Robby is burned into your mind. The lines on his forehead deepening, his eye twitching at the painful memory, his jaw tight as if holding back words he can’t say.

Jack is harder to ignore. You feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and familiar, like a silent plea for forgiveness. You remember how his lips press together, the corners of his mouth pulling downward, like he’s exhaling a grief too big to contain. You've seen him break and mend over the years, unaware of the love he still carries for you.

You lean in, your voice soft: "I believe she thought about her loved ones. How much you made her laugh with your silly jokes. How she loved you and how deeply you loved her in return."

The husband lets out a strangled sob. He tries hard to keep it in, but it escapes anyway. "I don't know..."

You pause.

"I do."

He meets your gaze and it hits him.

Somehow, him realising that you're speaking from experience triggers something buried deep inside you.

Your pulse quickens, your vision blurs. You excuse yourself with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "Our social worker, Kiara, will talk to you about the next steps. Again, I’m so very sorry."

Jack and Robby watch you leave, grief and guilt washing over them all over again.

You just need to be somewhere else, away from their eyes, away from the memories.

Your confession still hangs heavy in the air. Robby and Jack don’t speak, there’s nothing to say, only the fear creeping in that something isn’t right.

They exchange a brief look before moving in sync towards the stairwell, urgency in their steps, knowing the one place you go when the world feels too heavy, when you need to breathe.

But when they open the door to the roof, the air is empty. No familiar figure standing behind the railing, staring out at the city. Just the harsh wind and the distant noise of the world below.

Robby's eyes dart across the rooftop, taking in the emptiness. His chest tightens, panic rising, “She’s not here.”

Jack's thoughts spiral back to the moment they saw you leave the room. The confession. The look in your eyes. The sudden shift in your energy, the weight of something you hadn’t shared before.

Robby rushes towards the railing, peeking over the edge. He doesn’t want to entertain the possibility, but the image of you disappearing over the ledge flashes in his mind and for a moment, it paralyzes him.

"Robby, stop", Jack's voice is sharp, his eyes scan the space around them, desperately looking for anything that makes sense. But he can't bring himself to look over the edge. He won’t. Not yet.

Jack's been through this with you before, he's seen you at your lowest. And vice versa. But tonight, something's different.

“Where would she go?” Robby asks, voice barely a whisper, now full of dread.

"She wouldn’t just leave. Not like this." Jack's voice trembles, trying to convince himself more than Robby.

Thanks for reading hehe. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It's pretty heavy, but sets the tone for the rest of the series. Pls come back for Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me

PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist. ♡

[kjhbsies]

Too much?

Smallville Clark Kent x reader

synopsis: Clark was too busy saving Smallville, and Y/n just wanted a little attention. But when he told her to stop being clingy, She took it to heart— pulling away completely.

wordcount: 1,771

note: 16+ angst to fluff

divider from @enchanthings

masterlist

"Am I okay?" Y/n echoed, tears welling in her eyes as she stepped forward. "You seriously had the audacity to ask me that?"

Clark blinked, completely thrown off guard. "What—?"

"Our date, Clark. You stood me up. Again."

His stomach dropped. And Clark opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Y/n wasn't finished.

"I waited for you for hours at the diner. I called. I texted. And nothing! No explanation, no anything. Just me looking like an idiot in front of everyone while my boyfriend completely blew me off."

Clark swallowed, "Y/n, I—"

"I'm so sick of this, Clark. This is the third time this has happened. And I know— God, I know you're busy. That people need you. But what about me? I'm your girlfriend."

Clark's jaw clenched. He had been through hell tonight, barely keeping Smallville safe, and how he was being berated for doing the right thing?

"Y/n, you know that's not fair." He shot back, voice sharper than intended. "I can't ignore people just because of a date."

Y/n scoffed. "Wow. That's just... great."

Clark exhaled sharply, patience wearing thin. "I'm not saying that, but you're acting—"

"Like what?" She challenged, tilting her head.

Clark hesitated, but the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Clingy. I just—" He groaned, running a hand down his face. "I need space, Y/n."

Silence.

And then, something in her head shifted.

Y/n quickly wiped the tears off her face. The anger in her eyes didn't die out, but something colder settled in. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath and took a small step back.

Clark immediately regretted it.

"Y/n, I—"

"Got it. I'm sorry." She said, voice almost detached.

Clark felt like the ground beneath him had just shifted. "Wait, I—"

But she didn't let him finish. She quickly turned to her heel and walked as fast away as she could.

And Clark did nothing but watch her disappear from his sight.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Clark actually got some rest. Deep, uninterrupted sleep. His body had needed it. His mind had been craving it. But the moment he opened his eyes, the argument last night was the first thing that crossed his mind.

Clark exhaled slowly, sitting up on the worn-out couch in the loft, running a frustrated hand on his hair. The barn was eerily quiet in the morning light, but his thoughts weren't.

He told himself over and over that it was probably for the best that Y/n was leaving him alone. That's what he wanted, right? He had been overwhelmed by Smallville's never-ending chaos, by his responsibilities, by the weight of everything he was trying to juggle. He just needed time to breathe, to think, to clear out his mind. And Y/n, for the first time, was giving it to him.

So why does it feel so wrong?

He shook the thought away, forcing himself to focus on the present. He had farm chores to do, and things he needed to take care of. He'd see Y/n later. He'd apologize after everything was settled down.

Except... he never got the chance. Because Y/n was nowhere.

She had stayed at Chloe's house for tonight. The next morning, she was out with her parents for the entire day. The day after that? She was doing something, somewhere, but Clark had no idea what. And the next day, and the next.

And suddenly, Clark had realized— he had no clue what she was doing at any moment.

For as long as he could remember, Y/n had always been there. She was in his messages before he could open his phone. She was calling him just to tell him something entirely random, or waiting for him at the Torch, or showing up at the loft with snacks. She was always present. But now? Nothing.

Clark had caught himself glancing at his phone every few minutes, waiting for a text that didn't come. His inbox was empty of her usual good morning and good night messages. No texts about her breakfast. No updates about her cat. No sudden burst of excitement at whatever TV show she was obsessing over.

Clark had shook it off, telling himself that it was fine. This is what he asked for and he should be grateful for it.

But the lack of her presence left a void in his heart. He missed her voice. He missed the way she would randomly call him in the middle of the day, just to tell him the most insignificant details of her afternoon. He missed her rants about school, her dramatic complaints about the people that pisses her off, and the way she would text him just because she thought about him.

Clark found himself staring at his phone, scrolling through their old messages, re-reading conversations he had taken for granted. He hovered over her contact, debating whether he should call first.

But he didn't.

Clark didn't remember running to Y/n's house. He didn't even realize that his feet had taken him there until he was standing beneath her bedroom window, hands shaking, heart pounding violently against his chest.

He had fought off yet another creature, saving Smallville again, but for once, Clark didn't feel like a hero.

For the past week, Clark had endured every kind of physical battle ever imagined— facing off against meteor freaks, barely dodging blows that could've shattered his bones, and throwing himself into danger with no hesitation. But none of those compared to losing Y/n. Nothing could've even come close to that.

His hands gripped the windowsills, knuckles turning white. He had climbed through this window a hundred times, sneaking into her room when he wanted to escape and when he wanted to see her. It had always felt so easy, so natural. But tonight, his knees felt weak.

Still, he climbed inside, landing on the floor, breath uneven as his eyes found her. She was curled up in her bed, her hair splayed over the pillows as she was reading one of the books Chloe had recommended. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated her features and Clark thought she was beautiful. Heavenly.

Y/n looked at him with a cold stare, sitting upright before setting the book down on her nightstand. She didn't say anything. She didn't rush into his arms. She didn't scold him for going through her windows like he always did.

"Why are you here?"

Clark took a step forward, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. "I wanted to talk."

Silence.

She just stared at him, head tilting to scan his face.

His heart clenched, his breath catching in his throat as his knees hit the edge of her bed. "Please," He begged, voice raw, and with pure desperation. "Please talk to me."

Y/n exhaled sharply, trying to toughen up as she could feel her resolve cracking. "What do you want me to say, Clark?"

"I— I miss you."

"You miss me?" She echoed, scoffing. "That's funny because a week ago, you called me clingy."

Clark's jaw clenched, regret tightening in his chest. "I was stupid. I thought— I thought I needed time to figure things out."

"For what, Clark? To decide if I was too much for you? That my love was overwhelming just because I wanted attention for my boyfriend who I haven't spent time much with for weeks?"

Clark opened his mouth, but the words died out his throat. Because deep down, he knew she was right.

Y/n looked away, angrily blinking away her tears. "I gave you space," She continued, voice quieter now. "I pulled away. I stopped texting, stopped calling, stopped clinging to you like you hated so much. Did it make you feel good now?"

"No," Clark immediately answered. "I hated it. I thought space was all I wanted. I thought it would make things easier. But it didn't." He took a hesitant step forward, reaching out, fingers trembling. "I missed you. I missed your texts. I missed your calls. I missed hearing about your day, about your cat, about your gossip with Chloe. I missed you— all of you."

"I thought you wanted to break up," Y/n admitted. "And I was ready to give it to you if it would make you feel any better—"

"No, no, no," Clark interrupted, immediately dropping to his knees beside her bed. He reached for her hand, grasping it gently as if she would slip away at any second. "Don't say that, baby, please."

Y/n stiffened. "Clark..."

"No," He pleaded, shaking his head. "Don't say it. Don't—" His breath hitched, squeezing her hands tighter. "Don't say we should end this. Don't say we should part ways. I can't—" His voice cracked, and suddenly, his vision blurred with tears. "I can't lose you."

"You hurt me, Clark."

"I know, baby, I know. And I'll spend forever making it up to you if you'll let me."

"I don't know if I can go back to how things were."

Clark exhaled shakily, hands reaching up to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek with such tenderness that Y/n shuddered under his touch. "Then let's start over. Let me love you better."

Y/n let out a choked laugh, shaking her head. "You're such a sap, Kent."

Clark smiled through the tears, relief flooding his chest. "Only for you."

A long beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with emotions too big to be put into words. And then, Clark leaned in, his lips brushing against hers— gentle at first, testing, waiting.

Y/n melted into the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him close.

Clark let out a desperate sound, his body pressing closer as if trying to mold himself into her as if trying to make up for every second they had been apart.

The kiss deepened— slow, intoxicating, filled with longing. Clark’s hands trembled as they slid down her back, holding her so close it almost hurt.

“I love you,” Clark whispered, lips hovering over hers.

"You better.”

And then she pulled him down again, her lips claiming his, her body pressing into him, her hands gripping him like he was the one who had been missing her all along.

Clark let out a breathless laugh between kisses, his heart feeling whole again for the first time in days.

Maybe he had been strong enough to fight monsters, to save a town, to lift things heavier than any man could imagine.

But when it came to Y/N?

She was the only one who could bring him to his knees.

©kjhbsies

[coriihanniee]

Guess WHO! - boynextdoor smau

𓂃۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : When multiple leaked photos ignite a wildfire of speculation, the world is certain—BOYNEXTDOOR'S Y/N is secretly dating one of the members. But who? No one knows, and you refuse to clear the air. Instead, you turn the chaos into a game, scattering cryptic clues and half-truths while every member plays along, deepening the mystery. Every glance, every post, every moment is a riddle waiting to be solved. Is the answer hidden in plain sight, or are you leading everyone in circles? How far can a secret stretch before it unravels? And when it does—will anyone be ready for the truth?

CHAPTER 30 : my best mistake (you)

[22:46PM] :

The night air clings to your skin, cool and crisp, as if the universe itself is holding its breath. It smells like earth and grass, faint but familiar, grounding you in a way that does nothing to steady the wild rhythm of your heart. Somewhere in the distance, a cicada hums, the only sound against the quiet hush of the world at rest. Above, the sky stretches out like an endless canvas of black, pricked with stars so small and distant they hardly feel real.

And yet, they are. Just like the boy beside you.

You steal a glance at him, the dim glow of the moon casting soft shadows along his jawline. He’s sitting close—close enough that his presence wraps around you like gravity, grounding you in a way that feels both comforting and terrifying. His hand lingers on the ground between you, fingers barely brushing yours. It’s such a light touch, so fleeting it could almost be accidental. Almost.

But nothing about him ever feels accidental.

Not the way he looks at you—like he sees straight through the layers you’ve built, past the walls you swore would protect you. Not the way he listens—fully, completely, like your words are the only ones that matter. And especially not the way he holds himself back, as if he’s always fighting the urge to pull you closer.

For once, there are no cameras. No prying eyes dissecting your every move. No whispers slithering beneath your skin, twisting the simplest things into something unrecognizable.

It’s just him. Just you.

And the truth you’ve spent so long trying to bury.

You swallow, your throat tight as you stare up at the stars. You don’t want to ruin this moment. Don’t want to let the weight of everything crash into the fragile quiet between you. But the words press against your ribs, aching to be spoken.

Before you can stop yourself, they slip free.

“Did you ever think it would be this hard?”

Your voice is softer than you intended, the vulnerability in it making your stomach twist.

Beside you, he doesn’t answer right away. His gaze stays fixed on the sky, his lips slightly parted as if the words are tangled somewhere deep inside him. And maybe that’s what you love most about him—the way he never rushes to fill the silence. The way he lets the truth settle between you until it’s ready to be spoken.

Finally, he exhales, his breath slow and measured. “What do you mean?”

His voice is quiet, careful, but there’s an edge of knowing beneath it. Like he already understands—even if you don’t say it aloud.

You hesitate, your fingers curling against the ground. “This.” You gesture vaguely toward the night, but the ache in your chest makes your meaning clear. “Loving someone like this. In secret—like it’s something we have to hide.”

His fingers twitch beside yours, the smallest hesitation. You know that movement. You’ve seen it before. It’s the way he holds himself back when he wants to reach for you but doesn’t. The way he chooses caution over impulse. Because he knows—just as well as you do—what it would mean if he didn’t.

“I knew it wouldn’t be easy,” he says at last. His voice is steady, but there’s something raw in it. Something that makes your breath catch. “But I didn’t think it would weigh on you like this.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling beneath the sadness. “It’s not just the fans,” you murmur. “It’s the way they—” Your voice catches for a moment, thick and heavy. “The way they dissect everything. Every post. Every glance. Like we’re not even real. Just something for them to figure out, to tear apart.”

The words sit heavy in the space between you. You let out a slow breath, running a hand through your hair. “And every time I say or do anything, it’s like they’re waiting. Watching. Like I owe them an answer.”

You don’t mean for your voice to shake. But it does.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then—his hand moves.

Slowly, deliberately, his fingers brush against yours again. But this time, he doesn’t pull away. His touch is warm, steady in a way that makes you want to collapse into him and never let go.

“You don’t owe them anything.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a certainty to it that makes your chest tighten. “Your feelings—us—that’s ours. And no one gets to take that from you.”

Your throat tightens. Because for all the nights you’ve spent feeling like this love is a battle you’re destined to lose—he’s still here. Still choosing you.

You blink up at the sky, swallowing hard. “Sometimes, I wonder if it’s worth it,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hiding like this. Pretending like I’m fine when—” The words stick to your throat, painful and raw. “When I just want to be yours. Out loud.”

His silence should scare you. But it doesn’t. Because his silence has never meant absence. If anything, it means he’s feeling too much, all at once.

When he finally speaks, his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Do you regret it?”

You don’t even have to think.

“No.” The answer comes too quickly, too easily. Because despite everything—despite the fear, the exhaustion, the weight of the world pressing down on you—there is no reality where you would ever regret him.

“I could never regret you.”

You feel the way his breath stutters, like your words have cracked something open inside him. His grip on your hand tightens, and for a moment, it feels like he’s holding on for dear life.

“I know it’s not fair,” he says after a beat, his voice rough around the edges. “You shouldn’t have to live like this—scared to love someone.”

A soft, humorless laugh escapes you. “It’s not your fault,” you murmur, shaking your head. And you mean it. He’s the one thing in this world that has ever felt right. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. That doesn’t mean it isn’t terrifying.

He exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. “If it’s too much… if you need to walk away—”

“I don’t.” The words rush out before you can stop them, raw and desperate. “I don’t want to let go. I just…” You swallow against the lump in your throat, your heart thudding painfully against your ribs. “I’m scared. Of how much I feel. Of how much they could take from us if they knew.”

His hand slips from yours then—but only so he can reach up and cradle your face in his palm. His touch is gentle, as if he’s afraid you might break. “They can’t take everything,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “Not if we don’t let them.”

The night feels thinner somehow—like the weight of the world is pressing in from all sides, but the space between you and him remains untouched. Safe. His palm is warm against your cheek, grounding, but it doesn’t steady the tremble in your breath.

You hate how easily he reads you. How he always seems to know the words before you even speak them. It should be comforting, and maybe it is, but it also makes you feel exposed in a way that terrifies you.

Because if he sees everything—then he knows.

Knows how deep this love runs. Knows how much it terrifies you.

Knows that if the world ever forced you to make a choice between him and yourself, you don’t trust yourself to choose right.

His thumb moves absently along your cheekbone, tracing slow, thoughtful patterns. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—God, his eyes—hold so much it makes your chest ache. There’s something wrecked in them. Something that looks too much like the fear you feel in your own heart.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

You don’t respond right away. You can’t. The words are there—lodged in your throat, pressing against your ribs—but saying them out loud means giving them life. Means making them real.

And if they’re real, you can’t take them back.

His grip tightens, just slightly. “You don’t have to be scared.”

Your breath catches. “That’s the problem.”

His fingers still. His brows pull together, just slightly, like the weight of your words is settling into his bones.

“I’m not scared of you,” you clarify, shaking your head. “I’m scared of how much I trust you. Of how easy it is to forget the rest of the world when I’m with you.” Your throat tightens. “Because it makes me want things I can’t have.”

His fingers twitch against your skin. “Like what?”

You hesitate. But it’s too late to hold back now.

“To love you without being afraid.”

The words taste like freedom and heartbreak, all at once.

You don’t realize you’re crying until his thumb brushes away the first tear. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with the kind of tenderness that makes your heart break open and spill at his feet. His hands are so steady, so sure—like even now, even in this moment, he’d catch you if you fell.

And maybe that’s the worst part.

Because you know he would.

And you don’t know if you’d ever want to stand again.

The silence between you stretches, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. The world outside this moment ceases to exist. It’s just the two of you, standing on the edge of something neither of you can name.

He exhales, long and slow. “You think I’m not afraid?”

You blink at him, startled.

“I am,” he admits, voice steady despite the confession. “I’ve been scared since the day I realized I wanted you more than anything. Because wanting you means risking everything.” His thumb sweeps over your cheek, lingering just beneath your eye. “And losing you would ruin me.”

Something shatters inside you.

He’s scared too.

The weight you’ve been carrying alone, the fear that’s wrapped itself around your ribs like a vice—it’s his too.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “Then why do we keep doing this to ourselves?”

He smiles, but it’s a sad, fragile thing. “Because even when it hurts… you’re still the only thing I want.”

Your breath catches. His words settle into your bones, winding around your heart like a tether pulling you toward him, closer, closer—until there’s barely any space left between you.

It’s terrifying. How easy it would be to give in. To let yourself fall completely.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric of his shirt, like holding onto him will keep you steady. But the truth is, you’ve never felt more unsteady in your life.

Your heart is pounding so hard you’re afraid he can hear it.

"That's not fair," you whisper. "You make it impossible to leave, even when I know I should."

His hands slide down, fingers curling around yours. His grip is steady, unwavering—like he's making a promise without saying a word.

"You don't have to leave," he murmurs. "Not from me."

Something inside you unravels, thread by thread.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words barely audible, fragile like a confession and a surrender all at once.

A breath shudders out of you. Your heart is beating too fast, too loud, like it’s trying to drown out your fear, your hesitation—every thought in your head that tells you this is too much, too dangerous.

But then his forehead dips to rest against yours, and suddenly, none of it matters.

His hands slide down, gripping yours like he’s anchoring himself, like if he lets go, you might disappear.

And then, after a long, aching beat—

"..."

“…Taesan.”

Your voice is a whisper, but it breaks something in him. You feel it in the way his hands tighten, in the way his breath catches. And when he finally pulls back to look at you, his gaze is raw—wide open in a way you’ve never seen before.

Like he’s been waiting to hear his name fall from your lips like this. Like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

He swallows, his throat bobbing. “Say it again.”

You almost laugh, but it comes out more like a sob.

“Taesan.”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate.

His hands cup your face, and then—he’s kissing you.

It’s soft at first. Gentle, hesitant, like he’s scared to break you. But then you’re leaning into him, gripping the front of his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you upright, and whatever restraint he had shatters.

The kiss deepens, slow and consuming, like he’s trying to pour every unspoken word into you. Like he’s memorizing the way you taste, the way you sigh into him. Like he knows—knows—that the moment you pull away, the world will come crashing back in.

But for now—for this moment—it’s just him. Just you.

And nothing else.

previous masterlist next

@coriihanniee ☁️

🕊 - I saw all your comments on the last chapter WHAT DID I DO TO MAKE Y'ALL THINK IT'S JAEHYUN HELP HAHAHA???

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @supi-wupi @tinyelfperson @heeheesang @molensworld @wondoras @taesanfav @bbyinni @minfolio @mbella607 @cinnamonshuaa @defnotsanni @amarecerasus @enaile23 @nujeskz @janjoonty @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @pumpkg @cosmicwintr @mimimimiaa @hanniehq @s0shroe @slowlylefttyphoon @s1lkrabbit @missychief1404 @fae-renjun

[seumyo]

you asked and i shall deliver!!!. never seen you before but whatever ehe

a bit cliche, but do a vtuber reader x idia. I've been obsessed with this concept for whatever reason but I am way too lazy to write about it!!

if you want to you can do other characters ofc, but I just need a vtuber reader lololol

- 🌼 (idk i just like this emoji)

IDIA SHROUD ✰ FANBOY.EXE

NOTE. I love this prompt now (ﾉ ˃ˋᗜˊ˂ )ﾉ I might make another post with another version—maybe a more in-depth headcanons of fanboy!idia and vtuber!reader; just really wanted Idia to be reader’s VTuber model artist in this one !!

It all started with the artist behind your VTuber model. You didn’t know him. Well, you did—technically. His username was Thanatos, a well-known but highly elusive illustrator and Live2D animator who had a reputation for only taking on projects he found personally interesting.

It had been pure luck that he accepted your request in the first place.

You had sent him a formal commission request with a concept sheet, expecting radio silence or maybe a polite rejection. Instead, you got a response within the same day.

Accepting the commission. No revisions after initial sketch.

It had been brief, almost cold, but that was fine. He was an artist in high demand, and you weren’t about to risk annoying him. True to his word, he worked quickly. Within a week, you had a breathtaking, fully rigged VTuber model that moved like an absolute dream. The expressions, the fluidity of motion—everything was perfect.

You were overjoyed. You followed it with a generous tip immediately and sent a long thank-you message.

Thank you so much!! It’s even better than I imagined! You’re amazing!!

No response. Not that you expected one. Thanatos had already moved on, and you should too.

-

Idia knew about your actual debut a month later.

He had no reason to be watching. None. He had no attachment to this commission—it was just another job. But the moment you went live, his fingers were captivated toward the keyboard before he even realized what he was doing.

You were streaming.

With the model he made.

Using the animations he painstakingly rigged for months.

…It wouldn’t hurt to check, right? Just a little? For quality control.

His screen was already open before he finished that thought.

At first, he convinced himself it was a professional curiosity. He was just making sure his work functioned properly in a real-time setting. But then he heard your voice.

“Hello, hello! How is everyone doing today?”

You had a warm, welcoming voice that filled the empty space of his room like a summer breeze through an open window. You weren’t overly polished or exaggerated—you just seemed genuinely happy to be here.

And the way you moved—

He hadn’t noticed before, when you two were going through some test runs via call, but you had an adorable habit of tilting your head slightly whenever you were thinking and how you bounced subtly in your seat whenever you got excited. These were all movements he had programmed, but seeing them now, paired with your real-time reactions, it felt… like something else.

Something that will haunt him very soon.

His chest felt tight. He didn’t like that feeling.

He minimized the tab.

He closed it entirely.

…Then reopened it in an incognito window.

Not because he cared. Obviously. It was just research.

Right.

At least, that was what he told himself. Until the next stream. And the next. And then, before he knew it, he was a regular viewer.

Not publicly, of course. No, he lurked in the chat like a ghost, watching you without making his presence known. Every laugh, every excited gasp, every soft, murmured “thank you” to your viewers kept him hooked in place. It wasn’t just your voice—it was the way you carried yourself. You were unguarded, genuine.

It’s rare for him to see that nowadays.

He started to recognize the regulars in chat. A user named StarGazer89 who always sent supportive messages. MuffinMan, who donated too much and made you flustered every time. VoidPrince, who constantly made inside jokes that you played along with.

Idia was none of these people.

His username? User492015.

Generic. Disposable. Untraceable.

Not that you’d ever notice him. Which was exactly how he wanted it.

Probably.

But then something happened.

One night, during a casual chatting stream, you leaned forward slightly, resting your chin in your hands as your model mirrored the motion. “Ahh, I really lucked out with my artist,” you mused, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thanatos, if you’re out there—thank you again! I still can't believe someone like you took my commission.”

His breath hitched.

His fingers hovered over his keyboard.

He could say something. Just a simple “you’re welcome”—no one would even know it was him. They’d probably think he was delusional.

Instead, he closed the stream.

His heart was beating too fast. It was stupid. He was being stupid.

This was just a job. Just a commission.

So why did he feel like some kind of phantom, watching from the shadows, unable to reach out? Why did he get attached to you?

-

Idia knew he shouldn’t make it a big deal.

That he’s a big deal or that you’re a big deal to him. He doesn’t understand anymore.

As much as he hated dealing with people, he couldn’t deny it—Thanatos was one of the most sought-after VTuber artists in the industry. Everyone wanted a model from him, from corporate VTubers to indie up-and-comers hoping for a miracle. His commissions filled up within seconds. His rates were high—stupidly high. And yet, people were more than willing to pay.

He was used to clients freaking out when they got a slot. Used to them gushing, spamming thank-you messages, treating him like some kind of god of Live2D.

You, on the other hand? You had been normal about it, though it was evident how excited you were to work with him.

Oh, thank you for accepting! I’m excited to work with you!

No excessive flattery, no begging for a rushed commission, and no asking for discounts despite his prices being borderline robbery. You had sent over your references, paid upfront, and patiently waited.

Professional. Efficient. A dream client.

So why—why—had he ended up like this?

Why was he sitting in his room, watching your stream every single night like some desperate, diehard fan? Why was he buying your merch, collecting keychains, standees, and even the limited-edition tapestry that sold out in minutes?

Why was he spending more money on you than you had on your model?

Idia groaned, slumping over his desk as your latest stream played on his second monitor.

“This is so bad. So bad. I’m supposed to be a professional. I’m literally a big-name artist—people in the industry respectme. And now I’m sitting here like some pathetic fanboy, throwing my money at her like—“

A notification popped up.

Your donation of ¥75000 has been sent successfully!

Idia froze.

He had done it again.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO—“

He slammed his forehead against the desk, as if that would somehow undo his actions.

Why was he like this?!

He had never donated to streamers before. Ever. But with you, it had started with small amounts—¥1000 here, ¥2000 there. And then it escalated. He had no self-control. He had literally spent more on your streams than you had paid him for your model at this point.

And the worst part? You noticed. Always.

“Oh! Another big donation from ‘GhostKing999’! Thank you so much!”

You didn’t even know GhostKing999 was Thanatos.

Since when did go from User492015 to GhostKing999?

Maybe that should’ve been a warning for him.

You sounded so genuinely happy. Idia felt like he was going to die. He probably should.

Not because he wanted you to notice him, specifically. No way. He wasn’t some creepy, obsessive fan trying to force attention. He just… liked supporting you. Liked seeing you excited when you reached a donation goal. Liked the way you always took the time to thank your chat, no matter how big you got.

But god, he was in so deep.

And then, as if the universe wanted to kill him completely, it happened. Again. A common question that would probably get him to be a millionaire whenever other people asked his former clients.

Someone in chat asked, “Who made your model?”

And just like every other time, you answered without hesitation.

“Thanatos! I was super lucky to get a slot in their commissions! And when I got another slot, I had to go all out and even commission my winter, summer, and formal looks.”

Idia screamed into his pillow.

Why—why—did you always say it like that? Like he was some kind of mythical being you had miraculously summoned into existence? Did you have any idea how much he respected you? How much effort had he put into making your model perfect, even going above and beyond what you paid for?

Maybe he liked your vision for your model.

Maybe he just liked you in general before he knew it.

Maybe he like-liked you the more he thought about it—

Ok, stop, Idia Shroud, think about how weird that sounds. He barely even met you in person.

He peeked back at the screen.

You had that little, thoughtful smile on your face. The one you did when you were about to get all sentimental.

“I know they don’t really talk much, but… yeah. I was really lucky,” you said softly. “Thanatos did an amazing job. I still can’t believe I have this model sometimes. If they’re ever watching—thank you. Seriously. And I wish all other aspiring VTubers manifest their slot in Thanatos’ commissions soon!”

Idia short-circuited.

His chair nearly tipped over as he wheezed, trying to process the fact that his client—his former client—his CRUSH was sitting there, thanking him in front of thousands of people, completely unaware that he was watching.

That he was always watching.

That he was your biggest fan now.

“Oh my god, I need to log off. I need to uninstall the internet. I need to throw my entire PC out the window—“

His phone buzzed.

Another donation confirmation.

¥100000

From him.

To you.

Well, most of the earnings he got from commission were certainly going somewhere.

He screamed again.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[fancyfeathers]

Dick’s darling was 100% hoping that Dick’s lover boy thing was just a weird act for the capital, only to be left alone with him to realize that it definitely wasn’t an act and he’s actually worse in private because he can do a lot more when there’s no cameras on them. Like, she thought maybe the him feeding her thing was just something for the cameras, but nope, in private he definitely pulls her onto his lap and feeds her himself. And for someone so privileged and from the capital, he’s surprisingly strong despite technically never having to do anything for himself. Definitely a lot stronger than her. That’s how he can pick her up and make her shower or bath with him or keep her in the bed with him. It probably only got worse when they got married and moved in together because now she doesn’t get a second to herself and now he’s not only really clingy, but everyone is bothering them about kids and stuff and telling them how perfect their kids are gonna be. (Bruce’s darling is getting flashbacks because all of this reminds her of when she was younger and was forced to be with Bruce)

Yandere!Batfam Hunger Games AU

After the games, she thought she would maybe see him once or twice a year, but no, she'll see him every single day of their lives. He is already handsy in public, like in any interviews he would have, his darling is sitting right beside him, At any parties he has to go to, he has her on his arm, showing off her in a little pink dress with a heavy petticoat, it does not matter if she wants to be there or not, he wants her there.

But you know how Katniss' dress at the end of the first book had padding to make her look healthier instead of surgically modifiying her, almost all of his darling's dresses are the same, because in the districts most of everyone is malnurshied and she is no exeption. He watches her eat every meal to make sure she is actually eatting, then shove more down her throat when she is done, pastries that she would never be able to afford, handmade choclates, salted carmels, choclate covered strawberries. It is cute when it is in public, Dick feeding her a macaroon off his plate at a party, her taking cute little kitten bites out of his hand, but in private it sometimes gets to the point where she gets sick, throwing everything up and is back at square one.

He is definitely strong enough to move her around as he needs, but most of the time he does not need to because she is terrified of the Capitol, she could disobey and then the next morning her parents could be shot. She cannot run away because there is almost always a peacekeeper nearby, she is stuck where she is for the rest of her life, she just has to try to tell herself that it is not so bad when he pulls off her dress after another party. She just does not know how all the other victors pity her, all of their lives are horrible, but her life is one of the worst, because they at least have some sembelence of privacy in their own homes, able to make most of their own choices, but she is not even able to walk to another room in her own house without being asked what she is doing.

[xzinbdg]

NO WAY BRO ❕❕

seven. moonstruck (written)

۶ৎ synopsis: sim y/n, sim jake's sister, has known lee heeseung, her older brother's best friend, for ages. In her mind, he sees her like a little sister, but in reality, he has lost all his girlfriends because of his feelings for her, too bad he's afraid of her brother's reaction.

To be honest, you were very excited for today. Yesterday, Heeseung told you to be ready for a date, and it’s not like it’s your first one with him, but something in you feels different about this one. You got the dress code, which is a dress, but since today is supposed to be kind of cold, you also decided to get some pants just in case it’s really cold; you could just change. Heeseung is picking you up in three hours, so you slowly started getting ready. You were kind of happy that Jake is at some sports camp, and you can just be with Heeseung as much as you want, but the fact that he doesn’t know about all of this is kind of eating at you. He is your older brother, and you always told him everything, but now you have this huge secret. “Ah, whatever, Heeseung will tell him soon,” you think to yourself as you finish your makeup. You kept it classic with some soft makeup and a long black dress. You were finishing getting ready when you heard a knock on the door.

“Coming!” you shouted, and went to open the door.

“Hi,” there he was, looking so handsome with pretty flowers just for you.

“Hi, handsome,” you smiled at him, and he smiled back. “Shall we, beautiful?”

The two of you headed to his car and began heading to your destination.

“So where are we going?” you asked, curious.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he smirked at you. “What’s this, though?” he asked, pointing at the bigger bag that you brought.

“Oh, this? It said that it’s going to be kind of cold later, so I brought some pants just in case I’m cold.” He nodded, “Good job, smart girl.” You felt kind of dizzy after his words.

After about thirty minutes, you arrived at a pretty building. It’s a fancy restaurant; you can’t say you’ve been to one before, but there’s a first for everything.

“Hello! Did you book a table?” the receptionist asked.

“Yes, it’s under the name ‘Lee Heeseung.’” Why is he so charming just talking? you thought to yourself.

“Ah, I see it. Please follow me to your table.”

The vibe inside the restaurant was much more comfortable than you would have imagined. It does look fancy, though, and almost everyone is dressed well. You and Heeseung sat down and looked through the menu, ordering something after some time. "So, how do you like it here?" he asked. "It's very nice; I like it!" you said happily.

"I'm glad," he smiled. And right at that moment, your food arrived.

You enjoyed a nice dinner, just chatting away, reminiscing about some things from the past and getting to know new things about each other. After the meal, Heeseung insisted on paying the bill since he was the one who took you out on this date, and after some initial resistance, you eventually agreed.

"Where to now?" you asked. "Hmm, how about we go stargazing?" He asked "I love that idea." You replied.

And so the two of you made your way to the nearest hill. You were actually glad that you brought those pants with you because it started to get very cold, and Heeseung also gave you his jacket. The view was amazing—pretty stars and the city in the distance. Heeseung lay down, and so did you, putting your head on his chest.

"You know," he started, "I think I’m moonstruck by you." You laughed a bit. "Isn't it starstruck?" He smirked. "Well, the moon is bigger and shines brighter than the stars." You felt your cheeks heating up at his words.

After some time in silence, you sat up, and he did too after noticing you. You could feel the tension between you two and felt like you had to do something about it.

"Can you kiss me?" you asked, surprising him and even yourself by doing so.

Heeseung didn’t say anything; instead, he slowly came closer to you. He cupped your face gently and leaned in for a kiss. The moment your lips touched, you felt electricity course through your body. The kiss was soft yet sensual, revealing exactly how he felt. After a while, you let go, both of you as red as tomatoes and just staring at each other. You burst into giggles, and he did too, both feeling happy.

"So, can I finally be your boyfriend?" Heeseung asked nervously. "I thought you’d never ask." You captured him in another kiss, confirming your relationship with him.

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

written part: 750 words

۶ৎ pairing: brother's best friend!heeseung x reader

۶ৎ genre: smau, brother's bestfriend, forbidden love, angst, fluff, crack

۶ৎ emi's note: AHHH they are official!! but jake still doesnt know... on a side note I’ve been having so many problems with this chapter and taglist so if anything is wrong pls let me know and I will try to fix it 😞

۶ৎ taglist: @callikari @imanalien143 @kekaekeke @4lndr17 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @bejewelledgirl @jokkomizz @octoberoflove @swanwonyoung @mheretoreadff @s1rawb3rry @heeheelee @m1kkso @ayyonoona @augustloaf @lovenha7 @kukkurookkoo @honestlyatomicpanda @httpenhoon @noiiny @i03jae @celli-ohs @lilliansreality @jvngw0nlvr @starbyeol1512 @enhaz1 @lhseungg @sillyyuz @jiaant11 @wintereals @taehyuniesworld @fancypeacepersona @eyesonlybutterflies @yuyita-rosier @right-person-wrong-time @norihoyeon @simjaeyunies @rairaiblog @orimuraa @daniellesyellowhands @n-i4 @w2hoonki @ilovhoonie @jae-n0 @doveblackboat @ningningiloveumarryme @hyunjinslonglegs @jyikeu @reikaxslvr @teddywonss

[neigepomme]

Hi! Congrats on 500+ followers! If you're still doing drabbles, I'd love something with Caleb and Unconditional by Jaehyun 재현 has been giving me MAJOR Caleb vibes. For the prompt, maybe something where Caleb is absolutely whipped or obsessed? Over literally anything MC does?? Or maybe something where he just kisses everywhere on diff body parts bc "that's my sugar, I don't need no honey on the side" makes me SICK. Also, thank you for feeding the Loser Caleb agenda!! I owe u my life

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ unconditional / caleb x reader

synopsis; caleb is hopelessly, utterly whipped for you to say the least. your very existence is something that should be admired, and he isn't shy when it comes to letting you know that.

🍎 pomme's notes — LIVE LAUGH LOVE JAEHYUN!! i miss you come back from the war jamal.. if anyone's interested in participating in my drabble event, the info is right here!

⋆ 800 words / fluff / fem reader / 2nd person

caleb always thought he was the luckiest man on earth. 

being able to be by your side, loving you — hell, you loving him back? he doesn't think it could ever get better, seeing as you're the closest thing to perfection in his mind.

so when you suggested to go on a formal date with him to a high end restaurant in skyhaven, he knew you'd look gorgeous, but holy shit.

dressed in a silk maxi dress that highlighted your body and left your face looking radiant — a dainty necklace with an apple charm he'd gifted you resting on your collarbone, you were the very definition of heaven sent.

your soft honey smell wafted through the room, and caleb could feel himself be drawn in like a bee to a flower — and lord, when you twirled to show him the entire look? lethal. absolutely devastatingly ethereal, knocked his breath right out of his lungs.

“so, how do i look?”

caleb felt like one of those old cartoon characters, his jaw almost dropping to the floor upon seeing how beautiful you looked. silently thanking whichever deity took their time crafting you, he takes hold of your hand and trails kisses up your arm, pulling a soft laugh out of you.

“like an angel. did i ever tell you how much i adore you?”

pulling him in by his collar, you leave a subtle lipstick print when you press your lips to his cheek. 

“mmh, you do so daily, loverboy.”

were you dead set on sending caleb to his grave early? it sure looked like it to him. he could feel his cheeks growing redder, and when you raised your hand to his cheek, attempting to wipe the mark you left on it, he took a step back.

“nuh-uh. that kiss is mine now — need everyone to know i belong with you, pretty girl. last i checked, it was illegal to look that good and be single, so this is just a preventative measure.”

you rolled your eyes at him playfully, smacking his chest before laughing again. did caleb mention he was the luckiest man ever? because he was. your laugh was the most delicate melody to his ears, and he'd do anything to hear it over and over again. 

“that was a lame pickup line, caleb. but if we're going by your logic, you'd be behind bars for being so handsome, too. i guess we'd be felons together, huh?”

yeah. dead set on sending him to the grave prematurely.

his cheeks were flushed, he'd be your lame boyfriend all of the damn time if it meant you kept him by your side, and god, you thought he was handsome? caleb was seeing the pearly gates of heaven already. who on this earth could ever compare to you — his one and only.

wrapping both hands around his bicep, you look up at him with those sweet eyes of yours, and he has to hold himself back from kissing you senseless. you could ask him to give you the moon, and he'd bring you the universe as a whole just to make you happy. for you, he'd break every law, give you every gift, and it wouldn't still be enough. you deserved everything, and caleb was determined to make sure you knew that his love was limitless — unconditional.

“shall we get going, boyfriend?”

he felt like an obedient dog every single time you spoke to him. sometimes, he thought that your existence was the undeniable proof of a higher being. otherwise, how could you have been this perfect? crafted by the hands of gods, your personality and physique so immaculate, it had caleb wanting to praise whoever was up in the sky.

the way you talked, the way you smiled, the way you breathed. he could find new reasons to worship your being for centuries to come and never have to repeat a reason twice.

just last week, he saw you pouting when you let him know that a girl was hitting on him, and he still couldn't wrap his head around how you could be upset. caleb only saw you, and nobody could take his gaze away from your figure. you were his, and the idea of possibly finding another? revolting. no one could take your place, no model, no ceo, absolutely nothing. the only way he'd take his eyes off you was in death, and he was not dying anytime soon — he had already made plans to stay by your side until the end of time.

“we shall, pretty lady. i would never dare dream about letting you down.”

scratch the praise — caleb had to figure out which god loved you so much and take its place. there is no way he's letting his #1 loverboy spot be taken.

🍎 pomme's final notes — CALEB LOVESICK LOSER AGENDA NEVER FAILS!! GRRAAAAAAAAAH

[revelboo]

Just wanted to drop in and say I’ve been absolutely in love with your ‘A lifeless ordinary’ and ‘Give Up/Give’ series, like they’re sooo—- delicious?? Like I want to eat them both, or put it in a blender and drink it. Im not good with my words, but just know I appreciate you and your works, which also includes ‘Everything Is Alright”, CAUSE GODDAMN I LOVE IT ALLLLLLL.

Make sure to not burn yourself out as well, we all love you. <<<333333

Y’all are too sweet

A Lifeless Ordinary Pt 22

Scavengers x Reader

• Uncomfortably aware that apparently the fact that you didn’t shut down Misfire’s attempts to convince Spinister to share you have gotten around to all of the Scavengers, you’re not sure what to make of the extra, overwhelming attention. Especially from Crankcase and Misfire. Almost positive that Misfire at least sees you as a conquest of the ‘fragged an alien’ variety, something he can check off a bucket list. Crankcase, you haven’t been able to figure out why he’s interested, though it could just be curiosity. Fulcrum can’t seem to meet your eyes now, too mortified that he’d seen Spinister and you going at it like bunnies. And since Spin gets distracted easily, he’s not the best protector to hide you from Misfire. “Did you know Seekers can frag in the air?” Misfire asks, flashing his denta at you. “It’s a rush especially in a free fall.”

• And you just stare up at him, face getting redder. Wings flaring out slightly to show them off he reaches to slide a servo against your arm. Imagining being inside you, spike stroking urgently as you wrap around him, clinging to him and counting on him to fly for both of you. To watch over you and have you. “I mean that’s the ultimate show of trust for Seekers,” he adds when you’re silent and his servo slides to your thigh remembering the sound of you and Spin rutting. How many times has he laid on his berth and stroked his spike imagining the sounds you’d made? Do you even understand what he’s offering? Not just sex, but a mating. A mate.

• What are you supposed to say to that? “I don’t really like heights,” you manage, flustered when his servo runs over your knee and tries to slide between your thighs and then you’re up, darting across the console to Krok and safety. Hear Crankcase laughing as you flee and Misfire growling something at him, sounding annoyed. How’d you end up in this situation? Spin is sweet even though most of the time he’s a bit confused, but you’ve seen him laser focused and coherent when asked something medical related. Hadn’t really meant to end up in a relationship with him, though. If it’s even that. You have no idea what you are to the medic. Had he just been horny? You’re pretty sure Misfire is. Sitting near Krok’s hand as he pilots the ship, you groan and hide your face in your hands. Maybe you should just cave and sleep with all of them so they’ll chill out some? Because you’re painfully aware of this new, awkward tension among everyone. Know they all have to feel it, too. Except your sweet, oblivious dummy.

• Leaning an elbow on Misfire’s end of the console, Crankcase flicks one of his wings. “What? You going to sulk because your patented charm didn’t work?” Because watching him get shot down when he’d been so confident he’d be the next to claim you is hysterical. And his buddy scowls up at him, wings flicking. “Seekers frag flying,” he teases and Misfire hissed softly through his denta in warning as his servos flex and curl into fists. “I mean, come on. That was just sad. Desperate.”

• Venting tiredly when Misfire launches himself at Crankcase, Krok switches the controls to autopilot and reaches to scoop you up, cradling you against his chassis as he moves to get clear of the brawling idiots. Not even surprised when Spinister’s head lifts with a confused ‘fight’ and he tackles both of the other two. Joining in even though he probably has no clue what the fight is even about. Cupping your warmth against himself, feeling your heart racing, he heads into the rec room with you to find both of you some fuel. “Don’t worry, they won’t hurt each other too bad,” he mutters when you look worriedly up at him. You’d run to him for protection. Not Spinister and he isn’t sure what to make of that. Except that you do have some self preservation instincts. It doesn’t meant anything more than that. Even if he almost wants it to. Likes having you with them, having someone trust him and believe in him. After what had happened to his last team, he needs this.

Previous

[fudgeez]

"Rules of Attraction"

Synopsis: Rei has always been smooth, confident, and effortlessly charming—well, with everyone except Y/N, the ever-composed, impossibly kind student council president.

The problem? Y/N is also Wonyoung’s older sister.

Rei had a reputation.

A big one.

She was the school’s resident flirt—charming, playful, and absolutely shameless when it came to making people blush. Whether it was winking at cute underclassmen, throwing casual pick-up lines in the hallway, or slinging an arm around her friends just to see them flustered, Rei thrived on the thrill of it all.

She never got too attached.

It was just for fun.

Until Y/N.

And that was a problem.

A huge problem—because Y/N wasn’t just anyone.

She was Wonyoung’s older sister.

And if there was one thing Wonyoung hated, it was flirts like Rei being anywhere near her precious sister.

"Listen up, snake."

Rei blinked as Wonyoung blocked her path, arms crossed, looking like she was about to commit a crime.

"Uh… good morning?" Rei greeted hesitantly.

"Cut the crap," Wonyoung snapped. "I know you."

Rei smirked. "Of course, you do. I’m amazing."

"Rei, I’m serious." Wonyoung glared. "You flirt with everyone, and that’s fine, whatever. But my sister? She’s off-limits."

Rei felt her stomach twist but forced a cocky grin. "Relax, Wony. Your sister’s not even my type."

Biggest lie of her life.

Because Y/N was absolutely her type.

Rei was a mess.

It wasn’t her fault.

It was Y/N’s fault for looking ridiculously attractive during the student council meeting.

She was dressed in her neatly pressed uniform, sleeves rolled up, hair tucked behind her ears as she flipped through paperwork, completely oblivious to the fact that Rei was dying inside.

"Rei, are you paying attention?"

Rei blinked, snapping out of it.

"Huh? Yeah, totally."

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. "If you keep zoning out, you’ll have to stay after and help organize."

Rei almost volunteered on the spot.

And then—

Y/N leaned forward, grabbing Rei’s crooked tie and fixing it for her.

Rei’s brain short-circuited.

Y/N’s fingers brushed against her neck, and Rei forgot how to breathe.

"There," Y/N said softly, smiling. "That’s better."

Rei blushed.

Like, actually blushed.

She, the ultimate flirt, was red in the face because of a simple tie adjustment.

And worst of all?

Y/N just moved on like nothing happened.

—

Wonyoung had dragged Rei to the school festival, mostly to keep an eye on her.

"If I catch you flirting with anyone, I’ll kill you," Wonyoung muttered.

Rei rolled her eyes. "I get it, I get it. No flirting. Can I breathe, though? Or is that not allowed either?"

Wonyoung shoved her.

But then— Rei’s eyes found Y/N.

And everything else faded.

Y/N was standing near the lantern stalls, wearing a simple but stunning outfit, hair styled effortlessly, and smiling at something one of the council members said.

Rei’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Wonyoung, noticing, groaned. "Nao Rei—"

Too late.

Rei was already walking over.

"Fancy seeing you here, Vice President," Rei teased, stepping into Y/N’s space.

Y/N looked up, eyes lighting up when she saw her. "Rei! I didn’t know you were coming."

Rei melted.

"Wouldn’t miss it," Rei said smoothly, hands in her pockets. "You look amazing, by the way."

Y/N chuckled. "You say that to everyone, don’t you?"

Rei smirked. "Yeah. But with you, I actually mean it."

Silence.

And then—

For the first time ever—

Y/N blushed.

Rei’s brain exploded.

Wonyoung, from a distance, groaned in frustration.

But Rei? Rei just grinned.

Because for once, she wasn’t flirting for fun.

She was flirting because she actually meant it.

Rei wasn’t sure what possessed her to drag Y/N to the rooftop after the festival, but she did.

Y/N, confused but amused, let herself be led.

"Rei, what’s going on?"

Rei exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

"I—look, I know I joke around a lot, but with you, it’s different."

Y/N tilted her head. "Different how?"

Rei stepped closer, trapping Y/N against the railing.

"Different as in… I don’t want to flirt with anyone else anymore."

Y/N’s lips parted slightly.

Rei swallowed hard. "You make me nervous, Y/N. No one’s ever done that before. And it’s so, so unfair."

Y/N stared at her for a long moment.

Until she smile,"Rei."

Rei felt her stomach flip.

"You’re cute when you’re serious."

Rei nearly passed out.

"Y..you think I’m cute?"

Y/N laughed, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. "Yeah."

And then—

She reached up, fixing Rei’s tie like she always did.

Only this time—She didn’t step away.

Rei gulped.

"Does this mean I can kiss you?" Rei asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled. "I thought you’d never ask."

And that night, under the glow of the festival lights, Rei kissed the one girl she was never supposed to fall for.

And for once—

She didn’t regret a single thing.

Not until she thought she was in the clear.

She thought she had pulled off the impossible—winning over Y/N without Wonyoung finding out.

She was so wrong.

Because the second their lips parted, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"What. The. Hell."

Rei froze.

Y/N turned, brows furrowing. "Wonyoungie?"

There she stood—Wonyoung, hands on her hips, looking one second away from committing a crime.

Her gaze flickered between them, slowly processing what she had just walked in on.

The slight flush on Y/N’s cheeks. The way Rei’s hand was still resting on her waist.

The fact that her best friend had just been making out with her older sister.

Rei was so dead.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Wonyoung muttered, rubbing her temples. "Of all people, Rei?! Are you serious?"

Rei awkwardly cleared her throat. "Uh… hi, Wony?"

"Don’t you ‘hi’ me!" Wonyoung snapped. "You’re a menace, Rei! A shameless flirt! I told you to stay away from my sister!"

Y/N sighed. "Wonyoung, calm down—"

"I will not calm down!" Wonyoung pointed an accusing finger at Rei. "Do you have any idea how many hearts this girl has broken? And now you’re kissing her on a rooftop like it’s some kind of romance drama?!"

Rei held up her hands. "Okay, okay—first of all, rude. Second, I’m serious about Y/N."

Wonyoung snorted. "Serious? You? Please. You probably said that to like ten other girls this week."

Rei sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I get it. I have a bad track record. But this isn’t some game to me. Y/N’s… different."

Y/N smiled softly at that.

But Wonyoung?

Wonyoung looked like she was having a crisis.

She stared at them for a long moment before groaning, dramatically flopping against the railing. "This is a nightmare."

Rei smirked, stepping closer. "Come on, Wony, you have to admit—we’d make a cute couple."

Wonyoung turned so fast. "Shut. Up."

Rei only grinned wider. "Oh my god, you’re actually considering it, aren’t you?"

Wonyoung shot a death glare at Y/N. "If she breaks your heart, I’m killing her."

Y/N chuckled, patting Wonyoung’s head like she was a grumpy child. "Noted."

Rei nudged Wonyoung with her elbow. "So… you’re giving us your blessing?"

Wonyoung crossed her arms, still glaring. "No. I’m tolerating it. There’s a difference."

Rei leaned down, voice teasing. "Love you too, bestie."

"Get away from me," Wonyoung deadpanned.

Y/N just laughed, shaking her head. "Come on, let’s get out of here before she actually explodes."

Rei grabbed Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

And this time, Wonyoung didn’t stop them.

(Though she did dramatically gag when she saw it.)

But for Rei?

That was a win.

[velaris-fic-repository]

The Perfect Ceremony

@starfallweek 2025 March 23rd Prompt: It’s a Starfall mating ceremony, the dreamiest night of the year!

A/N: I originally wasn’t going to do this one, but I decided to try and it ended up grabbing my hand and running away with it! I hope you enjoy! Also, I need more platonic! Rhys fics in my life.

It was only the beginning of the week leading up to Starfall, and you were already exhausted. The entire world wanted a piece of you. You were stuck in meeting after meeting around Velaris for your duties, everyone wanting things handled immediately so they wouldn’t have to work the rest of the week. Never mind that you were having more and more things piled onto your plate by them, but such is the burden of the Inner Circle this time of year.

You were already stretched thin, wanting nothing more than to return home to Azriel, your mate, for some much needed cuddly comfort. You two hadn’t accepted the bond yet, but had every intention to. Starfall being so close to when things snapped for you both, you’d wanted it to be special. After everything the two of you had been through, both together and apart, romantically and not, you both thought you deserved the happily ever after treatment.

Your mistake had been telling Rhys that.

No sooner had you walked through the door of the townhouse, intent on dropping your stuff on the nearest surface and collapsing into the nearest soft thing, Rhysand poked his head out into the foyer.

His face lit up, star filled in its own right, and immediately pulled you into his arms, saying your name with childlike excitement. “Just the female I wanted to see.”

“Hi Rhys,” you said, unable to keep the exhaustion from your voice. Likely your mind as well, you hadn’t thought about your shields in a long time.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your and Azriel’s ceremony.”

A wave of tiredness rolled through you at the thought of yet another discussion. “Rhys,” you pleaded, “when I told you-“

Rhys was not paying attention, it did not even appear he had heard you. “I have so many ideas to run by you. You were right, you both deserve something special, and I want to help you make it perfect.”

He looked down at you with shiny eyes and you faltered for a minute. Curse your loving heart.

With a failing social battery, you tried the one card you had. Feyre would understand you, she always did. If you could get Feyre to rein him in… “Wouldn’t Feyre want to help as well?”

“The studio’s awfully busy this week I’m afraid. I know you know the feeling, and I do apologize for that, love. Think of this as my apology to my soon-to-be sister-in-law?” The last part came out like a question and your flimsy resolve broke.

You sighed, “okay, Rhys.”

He beamed, simultaneously lifting your spirits and raising your apprehension, before grabbing your shoulders and winnowing you two away.

Unbeknownst to you, Azriel had arrived upstairs moments before.

He’d sensed your sheer exhaustion and strangled acquiescence and had tried to get to you as soon as he could. You had been here, not too long ago if your scent was still this strong in the house. He’d almost believed you were still here, calling out your name until he picked up on Rhys’s as well.

A groan worked its way unbidden from his throat.

Of course. Rhysand had intercepted you before he could get here. The High Lord had told him how excited he was for the two of you. Azriel should have assumed something like this would happen. He’d likely been waiting for you to get home, eager to make preparations.

Azriel trudged downstairs, lightly agitated. His shadows flickered along his back, flared in response to his emotions. He picked up your discarded work bag and returned it to the place you always kept it in your room. As he held the strap, felt the weight of it, his heart sank. Tiredness radiated out from your side of the bond. He had half a mind to wrench you from his brother’s clutches and return you safely home.

To him.

But he knew you. Knew you wanted to make everyone else happy, even to your own detriment. It was something he simultaneously loved and hated about you. He knew the earful he’d receive if he pulled you out.

But oh, that little protective impulse.

Little. Who was he kidding?

When he saw you tonight he’d talk to you about that little habit of yours. Then hopefully, you’d finally let yourself get some sleep.

He sent a pulse of adoration over to you, pleased at the weak - but very much there - echo of it you sent back.

Just a little longer, he told himself, then no one will be seeing either of us for months. He didn’t just mean the frenzy, either. Both of you could more than use the time off relishing in the arms of the one you love.

A soothing pulse reached his chest and he realized he’d been gripping the strap of your bag with white knuckles. He must have projected his protectiveness through the bond to you. You were reminding him to relax.

He would. He just had to find a way for both of you to.

Having errands of his own to run, he did not return home again until much later. He made his way softly to the room you two had taken to sharing. He was the Spymaster, so he made no sound at all as he entered the room, expecting to find you asleep in bed.

Instead, you were at the desk with a candle burned down nearly to the bottom of the jar that contained it. Paperwork was strewn about as your head lay on some of them. Ink stained your fingers in little wisps, either smudged where your hands brushed it when it had been wet or simply there due to your frenzied writing style. Shadows of a sort.

You were knocked out though. He sighed, tilting his head. His shadows reached for you, more indicative of his longing for you than creatures of their own.

He wiped the ink off your fingers, careful not to disturb your much needed rest, before moving you to the bed. You didn’t wake as he pulled you to him, hugging you close like a teddy bear. He draped a wing over you and pressed a kiss to your forehead before joining you in the realms of sleep.

You were awoken by Rhys’s voice in your head. “Rise and shine! You and Feyre have a seamstress appointment!”

Had you really been that out of it that he could just barge into your brain and wake you up?

“Apparently, yes. She’s waiting for you downstairs. She didn’t want to bother you.”

Huh. Maybe someone could learn a thing or two from his mate.

His laughter reverberated in your mind. “Hurtful. She’s got the day off and so do you. Only ceremony planning today, and I mean it. Have fun!”

Thanks. Then you built your mental walls back up. Days off are great when you aren’t behind on work and aren’t forced into planning an elaborate mating ceremony, you thought privately. Anxiety itched around your mind.

You slowly realized your surroundings now that you were more awake. You were exactly where you wanted to be, in Azriel’s arms. But Feyre was waiting downstairs, waiting to help you find your dress. You couldn’t just leave her. Tired as you were, they truly did mean well. This was something you needed to do. Along with everything else you had on your to-do list.

So, you tried to pull yourself from Azriel’s hold. Predictably, he groaned and pulled you closer, wrapping his arms tighter around you. It was adorable, but you’d made up your mind to leave. He was not helping.

“Az, love, I’ve gotta go.”

He buried his head further into your neck. “No you don’t.”

“Yes I do,” you chuckled.

“Work?”

“No.”

“Rhys?”

“Sort of. Feyre’s waiting for me downstairs.”

“Ceremony stuff?” his muffled voice said.

“Something like that.”

“You would really deny me the presence of my mate?”

You chuckled, “we aren’t mated yet, Az.”

“We are to me.”

Your heart squeezed. You kissed the crown of his head and said, “two more days.”

He reluctantly let you go, shadows chasing half-heartedly after you.

“Have fun being the artist’s dress up doll,” he teased as he leaned in the doorway, you in the hall.

You smirked back at him, “be careful how you speak of my High Lady.”

“Sense of humor, yet another reason to love you.”

You shook your head. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.”

“That flush suggests otherwise.”

“Az.”

He held his hands up in surrender, “can you blame a male in love for trying?”

Feyre could hear you both from the stairs by now and snickered at your, “good-bye, Azriel.”

He watched you go from the door of the house, feeling the weight of the world bearing down on you. He knew you wanted things to be perfect, both for Starfall and the ceremony, but he couldn’t care less for that perfection, least of which when it affected you like this. To him, it would be perfect just because of you. He’d have everything he’d want for the ceremony anyway. Just you. He didn’t need you wearing the perfect dress, didn’t need the perfect decorations, the perfect food. He’d eat the crumbs off your plate if you’d offered them to him.

Maybe that had been his mistake. He’d assumed you’d known that. Maybe he should’ve told you. He still could. Put an end to the massive undertaking his family had turned your wishes into. He loved that they wanted to help, but this was getting out of hand.

That was a conversation he needed to have. The next time he saw you, that’s what he’d do.

He, unfortunately, did not have the opportunity. After spending three hours trying on dresses before you found one you liked, Feyre pulled you around for another two hours with additional ceremony prep. Then after that, you were running around catching up on the work you hadn’t completed the previous day. You barely stopped to eat as Velaris became your personal obstacle course.

You crashed on the couch, but woke up in bed again, Azriel next to you. You pulled yourself out of bed, not waking him this time, and left him a note. There was still a lot for you to do the day of Starfall. You’d see him that night, when the work was all over.

Cassian had been your chosen mode of transportation up to the House of Wind for the events of the day, once all your work was done. You’d managed to get everything done just before sunset and found Cassian with renewed energy and enthusiasm.

He’d grinned at you, ribbing you over the events of the evening and ferried you up to the house with the two of you laughing the whole way.

Once deposited, you walked inside the house, finding your family setting up your decorations. Gwyn had kindly offered to officiate the ceremony tonight and the rest of the family were helping with the decorations.

“Alright,” you said, rubbing your hands together, “what still needs doing?”

“You need to get ready, and that’s all we’re allowing you to do,” Feyre said, firmly.

“But-“

“No-“

Amren dropped the decoration she had been fighting against and spun you around. “Out, girl.”

“But-“

With her pushing you out of the room by your back, you could not see her, but you could feel the glare she was sending you and promptly shut up.

You teetered slightly on your feet, attempting to find some kind of excuse so you could still help, but found none. Your family sent you soft and amused smiles and you were silently on your way.

The laces on the back of your dress had been giving you trouble, and just as you were getting frustrated, emotions of the day still pulling at you, the door opened.

“Feyre, can you-“

You turned. Feyre was not the one who’d entered the room.

He was dressed up, at least as far as he was likely willing to. The deep blue outfit was not anywhere near Rhys level, but it was beautiful. He was beautiful.

His eyes were wide, staring at you in such awe that you had to look away.

“You look-“

“It’s too much isn’t it? I thought so. I had a feeling about the other one. It’s all too much isn’t it? Everything’s-“

Azriel stopped you by reaching forward, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently stroking the bottom of your lip.

“You look stunning. It’s not too much. It’s not too little.” He punctuated this sentence with a soft, passionate kiss.

“It’s perfect.” Another kiss, this one longer than the first.

“Any type of ceremony, any timing, any and all details in any configuration, would be perfect. You want to know something?”

Words could not find you, so you nodded.

“There is no way this night could be anything other than perfect for me, because it’s you. You are everything I want, everything I could ever need. I couldn’t care what you’re wearing or what the room looks like, so long as I get to look at you.”

Tears lined your eyes as you said, “Me too.”

“That being said, let’s go enjoy the work you did. Just promise me you won’t run yourself into the ground over details again, okay? I don’t take kindly to my mate buried under mountains of work.”

“I promise,” you said, kissing him, “so long as you promise me the same.”

“I swear it, sweets.”

“And help me lace up the back of this?”

You both exited the room and slowly walked to the now fully decorated room. Your family noticed your quiet smiles and followed your lead, sobering the whole affair a bit. It was quiet and soft, but in a good way. The feeling you get as you open a brand new book. The feeling of lying down in your bed and staring at the ceiling.

There was a dreamy quality about the whole thing as you all moved to the balcony. Rhys and Feyre’s smiles were twinged with apologies but you waved them off, Azriel’s steady hand on your shoulder.

In the anticipation of Starfall before you, you both softly said your vows to each other, your family watching on with wistful smiles. You had planned something elaborate, in terms of the food you wanted to offer. A recreation of the meal you shared on your first date. It would have taken awhile, and was meant to be symbolic, but at the last minute, you decided to swap it out in favor of a spare cookie the two of you had made together the weekend before. It wasn’t perfect, but it was food the two of you had laughed over when you shared the experience of making it. Indicative of your love and a promise of what your future would be. Maybe it was perfect after all.

You each offered each other a bite as Gwyn guided you through the ceremony.

“Why were they so dry?” Azriel said, humorously, despite himself.

“I swore we put the right amount of milk in,” you laughed.

Gwyn smiled at the two of you as she slowly bound your hands together with a ribbon. As she concluded, lights began to flash across the sky. You watched it for a moment before you leaned in and shared a kiss, this time as mates. It was everything you could have wanted. It was perfect.