#like it's not at all a part of the conversation?

[seumyo]

a softie for sentimentality, bakugou katsuki.

Bakugou wears a bracelet. You’ve known about it for as long as you could remember, but only decided to acknowledge it now that you’re in your third year at UA, two weeks before graduation.

It wasn’t flashy or adorned with any kind of logo—just a simple, sturdy piece of metal with a stainless clasp that he seemed to wear all the time. You tilted your head as you studied it.

“You’ve had that bracelet for as long as I can remember,” you said, sitting down on his study chair. It’s a privilege to even set foot inside of his room without immediately being told (yelled) off, really.

Bakugou looked up from his book and glanced at you. “Yeah, and?”

“Is there, like, a story behind it?”

“No story,” he said with a shrug, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

“Really? That’s so bland. I thought there’d be like a gut-wrenching or life-changing story for it.”

He sat up from his bed with a huff, his eyes narrowing at you. “It’s just somethin’ I wear. What’s it to you?”

You raised your hands in mock surrender, a playful smile on your lips. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious. Keep your secrets.”

“Fuck off, dipshit.”

“Again with that! Why can’t you be nicer now that we’re graduating?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

-

But the conversation stuck to you.

It’s the day of graduation when you presented him with a small, handmade box. It was simple, made of sturdy cardboard decorated with his signature colors and an orange ribbon to match. Bakugou rose a brow.

“What’s this for?” He asks, holding it up like the box might explode at any given moment, though there was no bite to it.

“A box.”

“No shit,” he scoffs, “what’s in it?”

“Open it to find out!” You egged him on.

Bakugou sighs, opening the box with a focused pout. He went quiet when he saw what was inside.

“Ta-da! A bracelet,” you said, smiling. “For you. Thought you could use something new to switch things up.”

He held the stringed bracelet in his hand, looking at the material as if it would erupt in flames if he glared hard enough. It was a stark contrast to his metal one—brightly colored warm complementary beads with little charms that somehow still managed to feel like him. There was a red charm shaped like an explosion, a black bead with a skull design, and a small silver charm with an engraved kanji for “strength.”

“I’m not wearing this,” he said flatly.

It’s like your cartoonish heart balloon had suddenly been popped with a prickly needle.

“What? Why not? It’s cool!” you argued. “I even made it myself to really match you!”

“It’s not my style.”

“Sure it is. Look, it’s got black, silver, and even a little red—it screams Bakugou Katsuki.”

“I didn’t get you anythin’ as a parting gift,” he tells you.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s fine,” you replied, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just thought this’ll go with your metal bracelet.”

He nodded, though there was a somewhat frustrated pout on his expression, muttering something under his breath a soft “thanks,” and placed the gift back in the box, never actually letting you see him wearing it during that moment.

-

Years later, during a photoshoot for the yearly hero gala, Bakugou stood in front of the camera in his full Dynamight suit. The photographer adjusted the lights, snapping rapid shots as Bakugou struck his signature confident poses.

“Hold still,” the stylist said, adjusting his gauntlet slightly. Her eyes flicked to his wrist, and she paused. “Oh, that’s cute. Is that handmade?”

Bakugou blinked, following her gaze. Wrapped around his wrist, right next to his ever-present metal bracelet, was the colorful string bracelet you had made him all those years ago.

He stiffened slightly, but instead of taking it off, he shrugged. “Yeah. What about it?”

The stylist smiled warmly. “It’s a nice touch. Makes you seem... approachable. And quite frankly, it matches your suit.”

Bakugou snorted. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

-

When the photos surfaced online, fans quickly noticed the bracelet. Social media practically exploded that day.

Is Dynamight wearing a friendship bracelet??

A HANDMADE BRACELET ON DYNAMIGHT??

Guys, he’s worn this thing for YEARS. Check the old pictures! 🙂‍↔️

You, of course, caught wind of the news—because honestly, who wouldn’t when it took all social media platforms by storm? You saw the posts one evening while scrolling through your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the photos. It was unmistakable—the bracelet you had made all those years ago.

Long after your UA days were behind you and your lives had taken you and Bakugou down different paths, the all-too-familiar bracelet made you smile sadly—more nostalgic happiness than actual sadness, really.

You stared at the screen, sighing quietly. You thought back to the last time you’d spoken, to the unspoken decision that had pulled you in different directions. You never thought something as small as a bracelet would still mean anything to him.

You didn’t even think you’d live to see the day he wears it, much less keep it after the years.

But there it was, bright and unapologetic on his wrist, a subtle reminder of a bond that hadn’t completely faded with time.

Somewhere across the city, Bakugou stood on a rooftop, the evening wind tugging at his hero uniform. He glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist, running his thumb over the frayed edges of the string. He smirked to himself, a quiet acknowledgment of the past and the person who’d given it to him.

“Guess you were right,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind. “It does scream Bakugou Katsuki.”

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[wstviewvidal]

pas de deux- w. maximoff

summary: who knew a four year old could be your wingman

pairing: rich!wanda x r

a/n: hi beautiful ppl! second part of dc is here! i have nothing to say except we love valerie

dirty cash masterlist

minors do not interact

it’s been two weeks since the word spill incident— as your friend likes to call it. two weeks since wanda maximoff has occupied your mind like an uninvited guest you can’t get rid of. two weeks of face-palming yourself after replaying the conversation you two had at the bar.

your friend definitely hasn’t let you live it down either. you two were on a call a few days ago where she decided it was the perfect time to remind you that you were an idiot and how you practically told wanda that her organization was terrible and didn’t serve a true purpose— and she was right.

part of you wishes you could find a way to reach out to her to apologize and make amends, but the other part of you feels she’s already forgotten about you and your foolish remarks. maybe that was the truth— maybe wanda had already forgotten about you.

you shake off the overwhelming thoughts and take in a deep breath before you exit your car with the bouquet of pink flowers from the passenger seat. tonight wasn’t about you or your overthinking— it was about your niece. valerie had been begging you to come to her ballet recital for weeks, and how could you say no to the curly haired girl with big brown eyes and an overly convincing pout?

so, here you were for the little girl with a bouquet just about the same size as her.

you weren’t much of a ballet or theater kid growing up, but your niece had a true love for the stage— the dramatics of it all and who were you to not support her? her enthusiasm for the art had been unexpected, but you couldn’t help but admire her for it.

your niece is the light of your life and you often find yourself always agreeing to whatever she asks. she has you wrapped around her tiny finger, not that you mind.

the auditorium is buzzing with chatter and excitement as you get in line alongside parents to enter the theater. you glance around and smile softly while holding the flowers close— this isn’t your crowd, but the reminder that it’s for your niece is what pushes you through.

while the line inches forward, you put your phone on do not disturb. heels click behind you as you replay the last time you came to her performance. you don’t pay mind to the sound that’s getting closer until you feel a soft tap on your left shoulder.

you turn around and low and behold is the woman who’s lived in your mind for the past two weeks, wanda.

your eyes widen just the slightest bit and wanda grins at your surprised expression. “and here i was thinking i’d never see you again,” she says, light laughter filling the air between you two.

you blush almost instantly and smile widely at her, “wanda! hi, how are you? what are you doing here?”

wanda subtly looks you over, admiring your casually put together outfit, “i’m better now that i’m seeing you,” you try to hide an even deeper blush, “this is one of the schools that my company sponsors— we help out with the after school programs. i wanted to come out and see the recital.”

wanda speaks with pride, something you’ve grown to admire about her—her genuine love for what she does. maybe you were wrong in doubting her and her company.

wanda looks down to the flowers in your hands and tilts her head in curiosity, “do you always carry around bouquets this big or is there someone special here tonight?”

“my niece is performing, i promised her i’d be here. she’s the only one who can boss me around and get away with it.” you gesture to the pink flowers in your hand and laugh a bit.

nodding along with a warm grin, she admires the flowers, “that’s really sweet. not everyone gets an adult like that in their lives.”

nodding to her statement as the line moves forward into the seating area and you turn to wanda, “you could sit with me if you’d like.”

you try to extend an olive branch to the businesswoman, the soft look in your eyes is making it impossible for wanda to say no.

“if that’s alright with you,” she follows alongside you to a seat in the middle of the auditorium.

what wanda didn’t tell you is that she normally has a specific reserved spot during these events in case she has to leave earlier than expected.

but sitting with you seems much nicer.

as the house lights begin to dim, wanda leans over and gestures to the flowers. “here, let me hold them and i’ll hand them back when you need them.”

you smile gratefully and hand them over to wanda with a soft thank you.

the classical track plays on the speakers and you can see the small children with their tutus filing in stage. your niece isn’t hard to spot, fourth from the right. you beam with pride as she spots you in the audience after scanning up and down for her aunt. wanda gazes at you with a flicker of admiration as you clap and cheer for the little girl who is dancing.

“there she is. that one’s mine, valerie,” you point to the small brunette with the slightly crooked bun and impossibly large grin plastered on her face.

she follows your direction, then turning back to you. wanda’s gaze lingers— not on your niece, but on you. there’s something in the way you light up when you watch the little girl that catches wanda off guard.

“beautiful.” she murmurs, so low you barely catch what she says.

perhaps wanda was foolish to think that of you already. maybe this is the reason she always finds herself in relationships with people who never truly see her for who she is— just what she can bring to the table.

or maybe it’s the way you treat wanda like a person worth getting to know that has her gravitating towards you. the way you lit up for your niece caught wanda off guard. she couldn’t remember the last time her heart rate sped up that fast at the sight of someone’s smile.

as the show comes to a close, the small children bow and wave to their respective adults. you turn to wanda with a laugh, “those kids are so much more entertaining than an actual professional dancers.”

wanda nods along with a chuckle, standing up with the bouquet, “oh, i absolutely agree. should we go find her?”

you nod and stand up after wanda, “yes please,” you tilt your head with a subtle teasing grin at wanda, “would you like to meet her?”

wanda’s heart beats a bit faster and she finds herself agreeing before she can even consider saying no. the softness in your voice and the way you tilt your head makes it hard to decline. so you two stand in the foyer as she holds the flowers while you scan for your niece.

the little girl comes out with a grin that almost covers her whole face, “auntie!” the little girl jumps into your arms and hugs you.

wanda observes the scene in front of her with loving eyes, the scene rich. she’s holding the flowers with a firm grip, like someone would come by and snatch them from her. why is she nervous to meet a four year old?

she has no idea, but she does know that her heart is racing.

maybe she’s already found herself in too deep way too early.

the little girl turns to wanda with a shy expression, giving a nervous wave as you introduce wanda to her.

“this is wanda,” you gesture to the taller woman next to you, “she’s our friend.”

wanda crouches down to your niece’s height with a friendly smile, “hi miss valerie,” she says softly, “you did amazing! you were the true star of the show.”

that won your niece over. she giggles and begins blabbering to wanda about how much she practiced and enjoyed getting ready. wanda is actively listening and conversing with the small girl, giving her complete attention to the tiny ballerina. it surprises you how easily the two have fallen into a comfortable conversation.

wanda’s eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments and you two smile warmly. there’s something unspoken there— something warm and genuine that lingers between the two of you.

your niece grabs wanda’s hand, “are you coming with us to dinner?” her big brown eyes looking up at wanda with a small pleading expression.

wanda hesitates for a second and looks over to you with a nervous look, while you laugh at the scene in front of you. “i told you she’s hard to say no to.”

the three of you arrive to a italian restaurant and wanda holds the door open for you two, her hand on the small of your back as she ushers you two inside while you hold the tiny girl’s hand. you’re sat in a booth, wanda across from the two of you who is enjoying talking to your niece about her favorite class and four year old drama.

“she’s normally a super shy kid,” you whisper to wanda in awe as the little girl is momentarily distracted with a breadstick.

wanda watches the little girl with a warm look in her eye then turns to you, “she’s like her aunt, hard to resist.”

you chuckle and playfully roll your eyes, turning back to the little girl to fix the small curls that have popped out of her bun. the warmth in wanda’s words make your heart flutter.

you three eat over a family style italian meal and when the waitress comes back to ask if you’d like dessert, you go to say no— but wanda turns to valerie with a sneaky grin.

“val, you want some cake?” wanda has a playful smirk. valerie’s eyes light up and she nods enthusiastically, the fallen out curls moving with her.

you turn to wanda with mock seriousness, “wanda, you’re spoiling her.”

immediately and with an almost flirtatious tone, wanda quips, “only fair if i spoil you too, don’t you think?”

that stumps you. you blush slightly and try to play it off by looking elsewhere, but the teasing smirk on wanda’s face tells you that she noticed the flush.

after dessert, your niece falls asleep on your lap while you converse with wanda.

“she really likes you,” you say to wanda quietly as you look down to the brown haired girl in your lap, “i’m surprised she warmed up to you so quickly.”

a blush forms on wanda’s face, ever so faint that you almost miss it— almost.

“and her aunt? what about her?”

wanda’s low questioning tone brings a heat up to your cheeks that you so desperately wish wanda can’t see. the question catches you off guard, but you force yourself to meet wanda’s gaze, “maybe,” you say with a smirk, but your voice came out much softer thank intended.

there’s something in the way the two of you look at each other— something beyond whatever it is you two thought you had.

the waitress comes back with the check and you reach to your purse for your wallet, but wanda beats you to it and hands the check back to the waitress before you can even protest.

you look at wanda and speak with an exasperated sigh, “why did you pay? i was going to.” you partly feel guilty that wanda paid when it felt that you were the one who dragged her along.

wanda shrugs with nonchalance as she starts cleaning the table, “why not? you deserve a night out and so does the baby.”

wanda’s nonchalance and the way she’s taking charge surprises you, but you’re not hating it. there’s something comforting in the way she’s taking care of the two of you.

you still feel partly guilty and begin to help wanda pick up the table, “is there anything i can do to pay you back? i feel bad that we dragged you out with us, i’m sure you had other plans.”

wanda laughs and waves her hand dismissively, “you didn’t drag me, i chose to come with. and as for paying me back..”

wanda has a look in her eyes that only spells trouble and it makes you nervous, “my company is having a dinner next month. would you like to be my plus one?”

you’re caught off guard but just as you go to respond, the waitress comes back with the receipt.

“your daughter is the cutest thing, you two must be so proud. have a great night!” the waitress picks up the plates and moves on before you can ever correct her.

you look over at wanda and laugh a little bit, “sorry.” you pick up the sleeping girl in your arms and the two of you walk out to your respective cars.

wanda walks you to your car with a light hand behind your back, making sure you carry valerie safely as she checks the road for cars. the streetlights cast a soft glow over the parking lot, wanda’s protective instincts surprising you in the best way.

just as you two stop in front of your car, your niece wakes up and realizes it’s time to go.

“is auntie wanda leaving us now?” her tiny voice laced with tiredness as she reaches for wanda.

wanda is caught off guard with valerie’s words but works quickly to grab the little girl whose tiny hands are grabbing for her, “yeah, honey, i’m taking off. maybe if your auntie is sweet enough, we can go out to eat again.”

wanda takes a peek at you from behind valerie’s head with a playful pout. you nod softly to her silent request to see each other again. you admire the scene in front of you, the way wanda’s rocking the little girl in her arms and gazing at the four year old with pure joy.

wanda works quickly to get valerie in her car seat that is in the backseat of your car before she wakes up again.

she turns to you with a new look in her eyes, something comforting and touching. “she’s the sweetest thing, you know that? a lot like you.”

you giggle and roll your eyes, “whatever you say, wanda.”

you lean on your car and eye wanda as she pulls out her phone from her back pocket, “i meant what i said in there,” she gestures back to the restaurant, “i want you to come to the dinner with me. i promise it won’t be like the last time.”

at the mention of the past event, you groan as you put your phone number into her phone, “stop bringing it up.”

wanda laughs, a sound you are growing to love. “seriously though. i want you there with me.”

the way she says it, the way she looks at you with soft eyes, it all makes you giddy inside.

“i’ll see you,” wanda says as she puts her phone back into her pocket, giving you a warm smile before she turns back to begin walking to her car.

you watch wanda leave to her car from inside your own with a grin. just before you take off, you can hear your little girl from the back, “auntie, your girlfriend is really nice. i like her.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. you mentally thank valerie for convincing wanda to come to dinner with you two.

“she’s not my girlfriend, val,” you laugh at your niece’s assumption that you and wanda were dating.

she lets out a soft yawn and holds one of her stuffed animals close to her chest as she sits in your backseat, “but she could be.”

looking in your rear view mirror at your niece, you can’t help but be surprised at her words. how could a four year old possibly know about this stuff? you fight the urge to press your niece further about her knowledge, but decide against it.

arriving home, you carefully pull your niece out of her car seat and take her to your bed to sleep until her parents pick her up later. you press a small kiss to her forehead and let out a soft sigh at the memory of the conversation in the car.

staring at wanda’s contact as you sit on the couch, you can’t help but replay the day’s events over and over. the way she was gentle with valerie, the way she looked at you and took care of the both of you, and the small bashful smile she had when she asked you to be her plus one.

you type and erase several different messages until you decide on a fairly simple one to send to wanda.

thank you for tonight. valerie really likes you

you hit send and place your phone down before you choose to not send anything at all.

not even a whole minute passes before your phone buzzes with a new message.

she’s adorable.. just like her aunt

you bite your lip to keep from smiling like a fool at her text. her reply is short, but you can already hear her voice as if she was saying it out loud. she sends another text before you get the chance to type something out.

seriously, though. thank you for allowing me to tag along. i loved it. i really hope you’ll think about being my plus one next month

you mentally envision yourself with wanda, your stomach doing flips at the thought of you being by her all night. her gentle demeanor and hand guiding you through the night makes you smile foolishly.

i’ll think about it, i promise. goodnight, wanda

you type out the response and hit send quickly before you get the chance to talk yourself out of it.

goodnight, you

maybe your niece was onto something.

[weneed2quatschen]

As part of open communication "I can't right now" is as important as "I don't know". Part of compromise, aside from finding a middle ground, is accepting that within compromising is accounting for things that can't be compromised.

Plus, the "Giving you all of the right words, but none of the right actions is called manipulation" I thought sounded a bit... allistic. Like the whole "appropriate" behavior thing.

I might not meet your eyes while you talk to me about something you like or understand more than me, I might fiddle with something to keep my hands busy while mmmhmming at all the right points, it might seem I'm not interested or like I'm uncaring, but... chances are a month down the line I might come to understand, or I'll find something relating to that conversation and go 'ah, this made me think of you'.... even if at that time I wasn't 'appropriately engaged' by general societal standards.

There are no hard and fast rules in relationships, because there are no hard and fast relationships.

Normalize seeing someone's lack of effort as their lack of interest in you regardless of what they tell you. Giving you all of the right words, but none of the right actions is called manipulation. If a person wants to be with you, they prove it. Period.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Omg Pt 2 of unfinished lap??? Reader makes him eat his heart out looking super hot and he grovels??? PUHLEASE

Unfinished lap pt.2 || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭😭

Warnings: angst!!!!

Word count: 1,396

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!Rafe x reader au masterlist)

PART ONE HERE

The Monaco Grand Prix was undoubtedly one of the most highly anticipated races of the year, and it was clear why. The energy was electric from the moment you stepped into the paddock. Journalists swarmed, eager to capture every headline-worthy moment, while paparazzi darted about, snapping photos of drivers and their glamorous entourages.

Team crew members hustled through the maze of garages, their focused expressions a stark contrast to the spectacle of it all. It was a world that thrived on chaos, glitz, and precision—a breathtaking display of Formula 1’s allure. Austin had accompanied you this time, his calm presence a stark contrast to the whirlwind around you.

It had been a week since you last spoke to Rafe, your communication routed exclusively through Austin. The distance had been intentional. After the heated fallout at the Miami Grand Prix, you had felt the need to step away, to find a moment to breathe. So, you flew back home for a few days, seeking solace in the familiar before making your way to France just 24 hours ago.

Of course, your arrival had been made seamless, courtesy of Rafe's private jet. It was his unspoken way of showing care, even in the midst of a strained silence. He had respected your desire for space, understanding the weight of what had transpired between you. Yet, the air still felt charged, the unresolved tension from Miami lingering like an invisible thread pulling at both of you.

Now, standing in the heart of Monaco’s bustling paddock, you couldn’t help but wonder how this weekend would unfold. The aftermath of Miami still clung to you like a stubborn shadow. Your abrupt departure before the race had even ended—and without Rafe by your side—had set social media ablaze. Fans were quick to notice, flooding timelines with speculation.

Did you and Rafe have a falling out? Was this the beginning of cracks in what many saw as a perfect relationship? The whispers of gossip added another layer to the weight you already carried. As you stepped into the paddock, the flashing cameras were almost blinding. Paparazzi immediately swarmed, their voices rising as they called your name. You offered them a small, polite smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes but was enough to quell the barrage of questions—for now.

The murmurs and shutter clicks followed you like a persistent hum, a reminder that every move you made here was under scrutiny. Austin, always the reliable mediator, had informed you that Rafe was already at the paddock. His presence was palpable even without seeing him, a tension that hung in the air. But finding him wasn’t your priority at the moment. The thought of facing him so soon felt daunting, not when your emotions were still tangled from the events in Miami.

Instead, you sought comfort in familiar company, meeting up with some friends at Ferrari’s hospitality complex. The atmosphere was lively but far more relaxed than the frenzy outside. You eased into the plush seating, a chilled glass of champagne in hand, while plates of gourmet food were passed around. The warm laughter and light conversation helped loosen the knot in your chest, even if only temporarily.

Yet, even as you tried to immerse yourself in the moment, you couldn’t ignore the faint buzz of your phone in your bag.

Rafe

Austin says you're here, where are you?

Y/n

Hospitality.

Without waiting for Rafe's response, you silenced your phone, flipping it face down on the table with a snap. You didn’t want to be distracted, not when there were conversations to be had with friends who actually cared—or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you leaned back into the easy rhythm of small talk with Sofia and the others. Your smile was polite, but hollow, just like the words coming out of your mouth.

Inside, you were still seething, and nothing about the pre-race buzz seemed to settle the storm inside you. As the race approached, the paddock swelled with even more energy. "Y/n! Over here!" You hear paparazzi call out as you turn your head to see them all flashing their camera as you give them a wave. "They grow more obsessive over you every day, I swear," Sofia chuckles, as you let out a soft snort, knowing this dress was your petty version of a revenge dress.

The air crackled with excitement, but you were numb to it, your thoughts wrapped tightly around everything that had been left unsaid between you and Rafe. Sofia nudged you, a knowing glint in her eyes, breaking your daze. You frowned, her questioning look making you snap out of your thoughts. "What?" you asked.

She nodded subtly, gesturing with her chin, and you followed her gaze. Your heart clenched. Rafe was approaching, his racing suit snug against his toned frame, the helmet in his hand an afterthought. His eyes, however, were locked onto you with an intensity that made you want to look away. He walked through the chaos of the grid like he was moving in slow motion, cutting through the noise, determined.

The sea of people, the flashes of cameras, none of it seemed to matter. It was like he was trying to pull you back in, but you weren’t sure you wanted to be pulled anymore. Sofia gave you a small, almost sympathetic smile before slipping away toward her boyfriend. You stayed rooted to the spot, knowing full well what was coming. Your eyes met his when he finally reached you, and the force of his gaze nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

There was something there—something unreadable. You hated how it made you feel. You offered him a smile, but you knew it didn’t reach your eyes. It was stiff, polite, barely enough to hide the way you felt. He saw it, of course, because he always did. He could read you better than anyone else. “Good luck,” you said, the words coming out more as a formality than genuine well-wishing. Your voice was even, but it didn’t carry the warmth it usually did when you said it to him.

You stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders, doing it out of habit rather than any lingering affection. It was an automatic move, like you’d done it a thousand times before. Rising onto your toes, you kissed his cheek. The kiss was longer than it should have been, the seconds stretching into an eternity as your lips lingered. But it didn’t feel like affection. It felt like something you didn’t want to face.

“Wait.” His voice sliced through the noise, barely audible over the rising hum of the grid as his hand grips your forearm. Your body froze at the sound of it, tension building in your chest. You hated how much it affected you. You hadn’t wanted to see him, hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near him after the things he’d said, yet here he was, pulling you back into his orbit with just two words. You looked over your shoulder, meeting his gaze.

The vulnerability there was almost too much. You turned, your gaze cold. "What?" you snapped, not hiding the edge of frustration in your voice. “Can we talk, please?” he asked, the words soft, almost pleading. His face was a mix of urgency and something you didn’t want to acknowledge. You wanted to scream at him. To tell him you weren’t some emotional ragdoll he could throw aside whenever it suited him. But all that came out was silence.

You glanced around at the sea of people—team members huddled together, journalists with cameras in hand, all capturing this moment. Everything about this was wrong. You could already feel the eyes on you both, the pressure mounting. This was the last place you wanted to have this conversation. "Right now?" you asked, your voice biting. "But—"

Before you could finish, Austin materialized at Rafe’s side, his timing as impeccable as always. You almost resented him for it. “Rafe, the anthem is happening soon,” he said, his voice carrying a firm but unspoken reminder that the world didn’t stop for personal drama. He looked at you briefly, offering a polite smile, but it felt more like an apology for the situation than anything else.

“Go,” you said, your voice colder than you meant it to be. You gently moved his hand from your forearm, the briefest contact of your fingers almost too much. His touch lingered even after he let go, the warmth of it burning into you. His shoulders sagged slightly, a deep exhale leaving his lips. He nodded, but it was a hollow gesture, a promise that didn’t carry weight. “After the race,” he muttered, his voice low, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.

~

Rafe’s victory, though impressive, only seemed to amplify the tension between you both. As you stood near the podium, clapping along with the others, you felt the anger simmering beneath your skin. The sound of Ferrari’s team celebrating—their cheers, the clapping—was a distant noise, something that barely registered to you. Rafe stood there, triumphant, raising his trophy high as the crowd cheered around him.

But despite his success, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything other than the sharp ache that had settled in your chest. Your smile, if you could even call it that, was a thin mask you wore out of habit, an automatic response to the situation. You tried to focus on the celebrations, but every part of you was focused on him. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze intense and unyielding.

You stared at the big screen, watching his expression shift as he looked directly down at you, a brief flicker of something—regret, maybe—flashing across his face. You hated it. You hated how that tiny moment made you question everything. You refused to acknowledge it, refused to let yourself feel anything beyond the cold distance you had wrapped around your emotions.

Instead, you kept your focus on the screen, acting like you didn’t care. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, calling out to you, asking for forgiveness, but you shut it out. The ache from his words—those careless, hurtful things he’d said—was still so raw, and you were not ready to let it go. The second the podium ceremony ended, you wasted no time in leaving the crowd behind.

You moved quickly through the cluster of team members, your steps deliberate as you walked away, trying to escape the noise and the energy that had once felt like home.

~

You hesitated outside the door to Rafe’s private room, your hand hovering over the handle. The paddock’s noise was a faint hum in the distance now, replaced by the deafening sound of your own thoughts. You didn’t want to be here—every fibre of your being told you to turn around, to walk away, to protect yourself. But you also couldn’t leave things like this. Not after everything.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Rafe sat on the small couch, his racing suit unzipped and hanging around his waist, his head resting in his hands. The sight of him—so unguarded, so unlike the Rafe everyone else knew—sent a pang through your chest.

His head snapped up when he heard the door close behind you. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was thick, suffocating, as he straightened up, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “You didn’t stay,” he said finally, his voice low, almost accusing.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the anger bubbling up again. “What did you expect, Rafe? A standing ovation for the way you spoke to me in Miami?” His jaw tightened, and he stood, his movements stiff and deliberate as he closed some of the space between you. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“You think an apology fixes everything?” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “Do you even understand how much you hurt me? I was trying to help you, Rafe. To be there for you. And you acted like I was just… in your way. Like I didn’t matter.” His shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, his frustration evident. “You don’t think I know that?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly.

“I know I messed up, okay? I know I was out of line. But I didn’t mean any of it.” “Then why say it?” you countered, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why do you always push me away when all I’m trying to do is be there for you?” Rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I don’t know how to deal with this!” he admitted, his voice raw.

“I don’t know how to let people in without feeling like they’re gonna see how much of a failure I feel like sometimes. It’s easier to shut you out than to risk you seeing that.” Your heart clenched at his admission, but the sting of his earlier words still lingered. “You don’t get to make that choice for me, Rafe,” you said softly, your tone firm. “You don’t get to decide how much of you I can handle. That’s not fair. Not to me, and not to us.”

He stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare. “You’re right,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s not fair. And I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to. I need to.”You searched his face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret. And fear. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Rafe,” you said, your voice softening slightly. “I just need you to let me in. To stop shutting me out every time things get hard.”

He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll try. Because losing you… I can’t do that. I won’t.” Your resolve wavered, the walls you’d built around yourself beginning to crack. “I’m holding you to that,” you said quietly, letting him close the remaining distance between you.

Rafe’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he finally took it, his grip tentative but steady. “You deserve better,” he said, his voice laced with a sincerity that made your chest ache. “And I’m going to do better. I promise.”The anger and hurt didn’t disappear completely, but for the first time that day, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could change.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 23: Succubus

You'd be surprised by how many twice Succubus requests I got, but this one really interested me. Anyway, things get real weird, expect a lot of growing body parts (G!P) and a lot of smut.

Length 2.6K

Dahyun X F reader

You mindlessly click through websites, moving from one to another without a thought before slumping over your desk. You stare out the window, feeling lonely. A small pop-up catches your eye, “Looking for a friend? Summon one.” It looked like any other of those ridiculous websites you might get ads for when you were looking at porn. Something about it draws you to it, though. You click on the ad. The website it brings you gives you instructions on how to summon a friend, giving you instructions that would best be described as occult. As dumb as it all sounded, you were bored enough to try it.

You follow the instructions, as the website explains, by making a large circle in the middle of your room, writing ruins and whatever else the website tells you. As far as you’re concerned, you should follow any instructions they give you. Once you had your summoning circle set, the last step was to provide it with a drop of blood. You prick yourself and smear your blood in the middle of the circle. Unsurprised when nothing happened. You begin to walk away when the circle lights up bright red, filling your room. A dark portal opens when the circle once was, and a woman starts to float from the abyss; she hovers above the now shrinking portal. She’s naked, her milky white skin on full display for you. You begin to worry about what you got yourself into when the portal entirely shuts, and the young woman lands in your room. She opens her eyes slowly, her eyes on the floor until she looks up at your body. The young woman meets your gaze and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Dahyun.” She says confidently, walking over and around you, looking you over.  “For what reason was I summoned here?” 

“I’m lonely and wanted a friend.” 

“A friend?” Dahyun takes a deep breath and stops in front of you. “I’m sure I can help with that. My name is Dahyun.” You introduce yourself to the young woman, trying to look away from her body but having a hard time. 

“Could you put some clothes on?” 

“If you have something for me.” You quickly head to your closet and grab some shorts and an oversized shirt for Dahyun. When you return to her and hand over the clothes, she puts on the shirt but refuses to wear the shorts. You feel too awkward to argue with her and leave it at that. 

“Let’s watch TV and get to know each other.” The idea popped into your head because it had been a while since you talked to anyone. Dahyun agrees, and the two of you settle into bed, with you putting on a show that you like. You try to start the conversation, but Dahyun is too focused on you. You could feel her hands move along your body as you tried to watch your shows. You can feel her press her body against yours, her soft breasts rubbing against your arm. “Let’s have some fun,” she whispered. Dahyun’s words echoed into your mind, hypnotizing you; you agreed like a switch being flicked. Your heart beat quickly; Dahyun smirked and climbed onto your lap. She cupped your cheeks, running her thumbs across your face before leaning in and kissing you. You submitted to her; Dahyun snuck her tongue into your mouth, exploring it as she pulled the bottom of your shirt up. She pulled away to get your shirt off before kissing your stomach as she pulled your shorts and panties away from your body. 

There you are, before the Dahyun, naked. You feel her hand move along your body; her touch is intoxicating. She presses lips against your neck, sucking on it gently and marking you. “You should know I’m very experienced. I have over a hundred years of it; just let me do what I need to.” You nod your head; in the back of your mind, you wonder just what you summoned, but that thought quickly disappears as Dahyun's fingers graze your slit. You shiver; the pleasure was unlike anything you had felt.  “I’m going to show you a whole new world,” Dahyun says softly as she takes your hand and moves you off the bed. “All your desires will be made bare.” She says as she pushes two fingers into your cunt. 

You wrap your arms around Dahyun, struggling to stand as she curls her fingers and rubs your walls. Your legs grow weaker, and you fall to your knees. You look up to see Dahyun toss her shirt off. She takes a step closer to you and places her hand on the back of your head, pushing you toward her pink cunt. Compared to her milky skin, it stood out and kept your attention. You glance at Dahyun, who nods. You moved closer, your tongue outstretched as you ran it between her lips. It didn’t feel like you were in control of your body anymore; it moved automatically, even if you tried to tell yourself to stop. The more you lapped at Dahyun’s cunt, the more you heard her soft moans, the more you became engrossed by the woman before you. 

Dahyun sensed your resistance; even though your body was pleasing her, she felt something off about it. “Is this not what you like? I can change that.” Dahyun lets go of your head and takes a small step back. You watch as she rubs her cunt, moving her hand in small circular motions. Then things started to change; her clit began growing longer, thicker. As it grew, you watched it take shape, it was a cock. Dahyun’s body was growing a cock. It kept growing, becoming massive, the biggest you had seen in real life.

Her cock grew before your very eyes, stunning you as it finished forming. The longer you stared at it, the more you wanted it, and Dahyun knew it. She grabbed her shaft and traced your lips with the tip of her cock. You unconsciously stuck your tongue out, licking at it as it moved across your lower lip. Dahyun placed her hand on your head; you knew what she wanted. The succubus didn’t ask either, instead pushing her hips forward and sliding her cock into your mouth. Your tongue ran along the underside of Dahyun’s cock; she continued to push her length inside, making you gag as she hit the back of your throat. “You’ll get it soon enough,” Dahyun says, rubbing your cheek and staring into your eyes. You nod slightly, hypnotized by Dahyun’s sweet gaze. As Dahyun begins to thrust into your mouth again, but this time you stop gagging, she’s still hitting the back of your throat, stretching it around her cock, but you’re not struggling anymore. The older woman gropes her breasts, squeezing her pink nipple between her fingers before doing the same to the other. You run your hands over her smooth thighs; you take in her body again, her milky white skin something that attracts you to her. 

You feel Dahyun’s cock throbbing in your mouth; you glance up and meet her awaiting gaze. “Drink,” she says, her command strikes deep. You feel the first spurts of hot cum hit your tongue, and as more comes your way, you begin to drink it. You feel lightheaded, barely able to think as you drink more and more of her semen. Dahyun watches intently as you gulp down her load. She smiles and pumps away at your throat until she’s done. Finally pulling out of your mouth, she watches as a thin string of saliva connects you to her cock. “Aren’t you going to thank me?” Dahyun asks. 

“Thank you, Dahyun,” You mumble before leaning forward and kissing her cock. Dahyun smiles and pats your head. You smile at Dahyun before standing up; the older woman runs her hands across your breasts, flicking your nipples before her hands settle on your waist. You moan her name as she pushes you onto your bed; you crawl back, laying in the middle as Dahyun climbs up and over you. She caresses your cheek, smiling at you before grabbing her cock and rubbing it against your slit. You groan as you feel the heat coming from her cock. “Dahyun, please,” you whimper, your cunt it aching for her cock. The longer Dahyun rubs her cock against your wet slit, the more you want her. Your body feels like it's on fire. “Fuck me already,” you beg her, but Dahyun just continues to rub her cock against your slit, silently watching you squirm. 

She moves her cock to your entrance, aligning herself with you. You feel it spreading apart your fold as she pushes inside you. You suck in a breath as Dahyun pushes the head inside; you moan Dahyun’s name, holding onto her shoulder as she pushes more of her cock inside you. It pushes your walls apart, splitting you in two. It’s slightly painful, but the pleasure is more than enough to cover it. Dahyun inches her way inside you; as you look down, you see a bulge moving deeper into you. You nearly cum from the sight; your walls squeeze down on Dahyun’s cock. She finishes burying herself inside your cunt soon enough. You keep staring at the bulge in your stomach, prodding it. Dahyun’s soft, low groans bring your attention back to her. As you glance up at the older woman, she presses her lips against yours. Her red lips melt into yours; you can’t contain your moans as you feel her hands wandering your body, squeezing your tits and beginning to move inside you. Your body jerks and shudders as the overwhelming pleasure runs over it. 

“Harder!” You moan, surprising yourself. Your body demands it, though. Dahyun smirks and pulls out, leaving just the tip inside before impaling you with her cock. It feels like being struck by lightning; you arch your back and cum instantly. Your walls clamp down on the older woman’s cock, and you cover it in your cum as she slides in and out. You moan loudly while Dahyun continues to fuck you. You wince, struggling with the pleasure coursing through your body as Dahyun fucks your sensitive pussy. Your head begins to spin as Dahyun fucks you, and your body feels lighter. Ecstacy begins to take over, your moans become wild, and you lose your mind to the pleasure as Dahyun makes you cum again. The older woman doesn’t let up; she raises your legs, folding you in half and hammering your cunt. Dahyun presses her weight on you, leaning in to kiss you. She snakes her tongue into your mouth, sucking on it as she begins to pull back. You mumble her name, warning her of your next orgasm. Your cries become louder as Dahyun moves her hand down, circling your clit with her thumb. Your entire body tenses as you explode on Dahyun’s cock again. 

The older woman begins laughing as she sees you losing your mind. She pounds away at your body as she nears her climax. As her cock begins to throb inside your cunt, you beg her to cum inside you. “Aw, you want me to cum inside you?” Dahyun teases.

“Yes! Cum inside me, please fill my pussy.” You beg, the vulgar words leaving your mouth before you can think. 

Dahyun’s smile widens, and she gets by your ear, “Alright, you asked for it.” Dahyun drives herself into your cunt, slamming into your womb before unloading her cum into you. You roar as you feel her hot cum pour into your womb, painting it white as you slowly become full. Dahyun scrunches her nose as she pulls out, “Did you like that, baby?” You nod your head lazily, barely able to understand Dahyun. “Would you like to see what it’s like on the other side?” Again, you nod, scarcely able to hear Dahyun.The older woman lays on her side, her chest rubbing against your arm as she reaches toward your cunt; you feel her hand rubbing your folds, moving between them until she moves to your clit. “You asked for it,” Dahyun whispers into your ear. 

Your head shoots back as a euphoric pleasure fills your body. “If you want it so bad, I’ll make sure you can, at least, temporarily.” You stare at the source of your pleasure and see your anatomy changing, your clit growing longer and thicker until it takes the shape of a cock. Dahyun massages it, working her magic until the process is done. You’re breathing heavily, staring at your cock; it was hard to believe you have a cock. You reach down hesitantly, touching it and immediately being hit by a wave of pleasure. Dahyun smiles and grabs your cock, running her hand over it. You shudder at the immense pleasure.

Dahyun crawls away from you; you stare at her backside, watching as she makes her cock disappear, a wet slit taking its place. “Go on, fuck me,” Dahyun says, raising her ass and pressing her face into the mattress. You stare at her ass, licking your lips as you crawl to her. You want to eat it, to run your tongue across her pristine skin, but your cock controls you. It twitches as you see her pink pussy, there for the taking. You press yourself against the older woman, clumsily thrusting between the older woman’s legs, feeling her soft thighs jiggle against your cock. Dahyun giggles before grabbing your cock and forcing you to slow down for a moment. She aligns you with her entrance and waits for you to make the first move. You’re practically drooling as you grab onto Dahyun’s waist. You slam yourself inside her tight cunt, cumming in an instant. You feel your cum shoot out of your cock, dumping it all into Dahyun. 

You were going feral; you kept thrusting into Dahyun. You watched her ass bounce on your cock, but you wanted more from her. You reached around and squeezed her modest breasts, ravaging her body. Your nipples dragged along her back, keeping the euphoric feeling going as you dump another load into her pussy. You could only repeat her name; it was your only thought as you continued to thrust. Her pussy felt so good, it was wrapped tightly around you, squeezing your cock. How you could live without this pleasure was beyond you, you continued to slam your cock into the older woman, pouring more and more cum into her as you lost all control. You slip out of Dahyun, but your body continues moving. You thrust between her thick thighs, covering them with your cum. When you cum for a fourth time, it sprays onto Dahyun’s stomach and tits. Exhaustion hits you suddenly; you continue thrusting between Dahyun's thighs, slowing down until you collapse. 

Dahyun smiles at you, caressing your cheek, “Poor baby, you got too excited.” She says before scoping some of your cum from her stomach. She sucks on her fingers, tasting your salty cum. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have nothing left to give.” Dahyun straddles you, rubbing your cock between her folds and sinking onto it. You groan weakly as she begins to bounce on your cock, moaning as she gropes herself, tugging on her nipples and rubbing her clit. The last sight you have before you pass out is Dahyun’s messy body bouncing on your cock. 

The following day, you wake up with Dahyun beside you; her body is clean. You throw the blanket off your body and look down; your cock is gone. You gulp as you stare at the older woman, who sleeps peacefully. You wanted your cock back; you wanted to fuck Dahyun again. You needed it. Dahyun continued to sleep peacefully, fully aware she had you in the palm of her hand.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Just How Fast The Night Changes.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist.

in which, your out at a christmas market with your friends, you end up hurting yourself on the ice rink, resulting in you going to the hospital, where your fiance is doing the night shift.

word count - 3.1k

authors note - hi everyone! hope your all doing okay, just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who wished me well, im feeling much better and couldn’t wait to get back to writing for you all. enjoy huns. 🩵

Winter Wonderland was one of your favourite places to go to.

The air was crisp, nipping at your cheeks, and fairy lights are strung above like a canopy of stars, casting everything in a soft golden glow.

There’s the faint sound of Christmas carols playing somewhere, blending with the delighted shouts of children and the soft murmur of conversations.

The smell of roasted chestnuts and sweet cinnamon drifts through the air, and the ice rink is at the heart of it all, glowing an icy blue under the lights.

You’ve never been ice skating before,so you don’t know why you let Lauren talk you into taking part.

Your fingers are clutching the edge of the rink like it’s a lifeline, knuckles white as you attempt to shuffle forward. Your legs wobble beneath you, and your skates feel like they’re made of jelly instead of blades.

"Come on, you’re doing fine!" Lauren says, her voice full of encouragement. She’s gripping your hand tightly, her fingers warm despite the cold.

She’s only slightly steadier than you are, but at least she’s moving without needing the barrier.

“I am not doing fine,” you reply, your voice shaky as your foot slides unexpectedly and you lurch forward. Lauren pulls you back upright, laughing.

“You’re still standing. That’s a win,” she says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Her laughter is warm, and somehow it makes you laugh, too, despite the fact that you’re fairly certain you’re about to end up on the ice any second.

The ice rink is alive with movement around you. Experienced skaters glide by effortlessly, spinning and weaving through the crowd like dancers, their scarves trailing behind them.

Meanwhile, a group of kids to your left are shrieking with laughter as they tumble over each other in a heap, only to scramble back up and try again.

You look down at your feet, trying to muster the courage to let go of the side.

“How are you not falling every two seconds?” you ask, eyeing Lauren suspiciously.

She grins.

“Years of rollerblading as a kid,” she admits. “But trust me, I’m no pro. Just don’t overthink it—bend your knees a little, and try to glide.”

You nod, trying to follow her advice. Your knees bend slightly, and you release the edge for a split second. It feels like flying—for exactly half a second—before your foot slips and you grab the barrier again, your heart pounding.

Lauren’s laugh rings out again, but it’s never mean.

“Okay, okay,” she says, steadying you.

“Baby steps. I���ve got you.” She pulls you gently forward, her grip on your hand solid.

Somehow, with Lauren’s guidance and a lot of laughter, you manage a few shaky steps away from the edge.

You’re still wobbling, your arms flailing like a baby bird trying to take flight, but you’re moving.

The world around you feels magical, even with your nerves and the ache already forming in your ankles. Snowflakes begin to fall softly, catching the light as they drift down. You glance at Lauren, her face lit up with joy, and you can’t help but smile.

“See?” she says, beaming at you. “You’re doing it!”

“I’m barely surviving,” you reply, but you’re laughing now, the kind of laugh that feels like it comes straight from your chest.

And just like that, your left foot slips out from under you, and suddenly you’re falling backward.

It happens so fast that you don’t even have time to brace yourself. The cold, unforgiving ice meets your arm and hip with a jarring thud, the shock of it knocking the breath from your lungs.

Pain shoots up your arm immediately, sharp and searing, and you can feel tears springing to your eyes before you can stop them.

“Are you okay?!” Lauren is beside you in an instant, dropping to her knees on the ice. Her hands hover uncertainly, not wanting to hurt you further as you cradle your arm. “Talk to me—what hurts?”

You wince, sucking in a shaky breath.

“My arm. It—oh, it really hurts, Lozza.” Your voice is trembling, a mixture of shock and pain making it hard to focus.

A concerned voice interrupts.

“Do you need help?” It’s a passerby, a woman in a red scarf who’s skated over to check on you.

She glances over her shoulder and waves for someone. “I’ll get an ice marshal.”

Everything feels blurry after that, the sounds around you a mix of laughter and skating blades against ice, clashing with the sharp ache radiating from your arm.

Lauren stays right by your side, her voice soft but firm as she reassures you. “It’s okay, help’s coming. You’re going to be okay.”

An ice marshal arrives within moments, dressed in a bright yellow jacket that makes them easy to spot.

They crouch beside you, their expression serious but calm.

“Hi,” they say, their tone professional but kind. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I—I fell,” you manage, the words catching in your throat. “Landed on my arm. It hurts a lot.”

The marshal nods, their gaze assessing as they look at your arm, though you’re still clutching it close to your body.

“Okay, I see you’re in a lot of pain,” they say. “We’re going to get you some help. I think we need to call an ambulance to check this out, just to be safe.”

Hearing the word “ambulance” makes your stomach flip, and the tears spill over, unbidden. Lauren immediately scoots closer, putting a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she says softly, her voice steady and warm, like an anchor in the chaos. “They’re just being cautious. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

The ice marshal steps away briefly to make the call, and you can hear them relaying details to the dispatcher. Meanwhile, Lauren stays with you, her knees probably freezing against the ice, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“I feel so stupid,” you mumble, the tears still flowing.

“Don’t,” Lauren says firmly. “This could happen to anyone. Besides, you were doing amazing—I mean, up until this part.”

She gives you a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. It works, if only a little.

The waiting feels both endless and too quick. People around you keep glancing over, their curiosity clear, but Lauren glares at anyone who stares too long.

“Nothing to see here,” she mutters under her breath, making you snort despite the pain.

When the paramedics arrive, they move with practiced efficiency, asking questions, checking your arm, and gently placing it in a makeshift sling before helping you off the ice and onto a stretcher. Lauren is right behind you, her hand never leaving yours until they load you into the ambulance.

Harry was sitting at his desk in the bustling emergency department, pen in hand as he worked through a stack of paperwork.

The hum of the hospital surrounded him—phones ringing, monitors beeping, and the occasional burst of hurried footsteps.

He was focused, brows furrowed in concentration, when a nurse approached him.

“Dr. Styles?” she said, her tone gentle but urgent.

Harry glanced up, his professional demeanor shifting slightly at the nurse’s expression.

“Yes?” he said, setting his pen down.

“It’s about your fiancée,” she began, her voice careful. “She’s just been brought in. A suspected arm injury from a fall. She’s stable, but she’s in a lot of pain.”

His heart stopped for a moment, then kicked into overdrive. He was on his feet before she even finished speaking. “Where is she?”

The nurse motioned down the hall. “She’s in Room 14. I’ll take you to her.”

Harry turned to the head of the department, who had been standing nearby, observing the exchange.

“Go,” they said with a nod, understanding immediately. “We’ll cover for you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said quickly, already moving to follow the nurse.

As he walked, his mind raced. He knew this hospital inside and out, every corridor, every turn, but now the route to Room 14 felt impossibly long.

The thought of you being in pain, of you lying there alone and scared, made his chest tighten. He was usually so composed, so steady under pressure, but this was different.

This was you.

His darling.

The nurse glanced back at him as they neared the room, her pace slowing.

“She’s alert and talking, but she’s shaken up,” she said. “An x-ray has been done we’re just waiting for the results, but the arm looks like it might be fractured.”

Harry nodded, his jaw clenching as he processed the information. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needed to be calm for you, reassuring, even though his heart was pounding in his chest.

As they reached the door to Room 14, the nurse stepped aside, motioning for him to go in. Harry hesitated for half a second, his hand resting on the doorframe. He could hear the faint murmur of your voice inside, and the sound sent a wave of both relief and worry through him.

He pushed the door open, stepping inside.

You’re sitting on the hospital bed, your good arm clutching the blanket draped over your lap.

A nurse is patiently trying to insert an IV into your injured arm, but you keep squirming away, your breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

“Please, no, I can’t,” you say, shaking your head, your voice trembling. “I hate needles—I really hate them.”

The nurse, clearly used to this sort of reaction, gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s scary, but this will help with the pain. We’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“No,” you insist, pulling your arm back again despite the throb of pain shooting through it. “I—I can’t. Just give me pills or something. I don’t need the IV.”

The door opens suddenly, and your heart skips a beat when you see Harry stride into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His hair is slightly messy from a long shift, and his brow is furrowed with concern.

“M’love,” he says, his voice soft but urgent as he crosses the room in a few quick steps. “S’going on?”

The nurse straightens up and explains, “She’s scared of the IV, Doctor Styles. We’re trying to administer some pain relief, but she’s very nervous.”

Harry’s face softens as he looks at you, crouching down so he’s eye level.

“Hey, s’okay. M’ here now,” he says gently, reaching for your free hand. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “The IV’s going to help. I know it’s scary, but you’re so much stronger than you think.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I can’t, H. I really can’t. It’s too much.”

“Yes, you can,” he says firmly but lovingly, leaning closer. “I promise it’ll be over before you know it, and I’ll be right here the whole time. You won’t even have to look at it, okay? Just look at me.”

His free hand comes up to rest gently against your cheek, his touch grounding you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his green eyes searching yours.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I trust you.”

“Good,” he says, his lips twitching into a small, reassuring smile. He straightens up and glances at the nurse. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll keep her calm.”

The nurse nods and moves closer again, preparing the IV. Harry shifts, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and pulling you gently against him so your head rests against his neck.

“Just focus on me,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. His fingers thread through your hair in soft, repetitive strokes. “You’re doing so well, love. You’ve got this. Deep breaths for me, yeah? In…and out.”

You close your eyes, your tears soaking into his shirt as you follow his lead, breathing in time with him.

“Almost there,” the nurse says, her voice calm. “You’re doing great.”

Harry keeps talking to you, his voice a steady stream of comfort. “Remember that time we went to the beach, and you got all excited about finding those tiny crabs in the tide pools? You weren’t scared then. You were brave. You’re brave now, too.”

You let out a shaky laugh despite yourself, clinging to the warmth of his words. Before you know it, the nurse says, “All done.”

“See?” Harry says, pulling back slightly to look at you, his fingers still in your hair. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

You glance down at your arm, surprised to see the IV already taped in place. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Harry confirms, a smile tugging at his lips. “Easiest thing in the world for someone as tough as you.”

You manage a small, sheepish smile, leaning into him as the nurse adjusts the IV drip. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could’ve,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But you don’t have to do it alone. That’s why I’m here.”

And in that moment, despite the pain and the fear, you feel safe.

The nurse finishes adjusting the IV drip and gives you both a warm smile.

“All set. The doctor will be here shortly with the results of your X-ray,” she says. “I’ll give you two some privacy in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, nodding at her as she steps out of the room, pulling the curtain half-closed behind her.

As soon as she’s gone, Harry pulls the chair closer to your bedside and takes your uninjured hand in both of his. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles over your skin, his eyes scanning your face.

“Okay,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “Now, tell me what happened. And don’t say, ‘It’s nothing,’ because you’re here with an IV in your arm, and that’s definitely not nothing.”

You let out a small sigh, your voice still shaky. “Lauren and I were at Winter Wonderland, and we decided to try ice skating.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Ice skating? You’ve never been ice skating in your life.”

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, a hint of exasperation in your tone. “That’s why it went so badly. I was clinging to the side the whole time, but then I tried to let go, and my foot slipped. I landed on my arm.”

Harry winces, his hand tightening around yours for a moment. “That must’ve hurt like hell.”

“It did,” you admit, your voice quiet. “But honestly, I think the embarrassment hurt more. Everyone was staring, and Lauren was trying to help, but then someone called over an ice marshal, and—”

“Wait, an ice marshal?” Harry interrupts, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “That sounds way too official for a skating accident.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Tell me about it. Anyway, they called an ambulance, and Lauren stayed with me the whole time. She was amazing, but I just kept thinking how ridiculous I must’ve looked.”

Harry’s expression softens again, his humor giving way to a deeper concern. He leans forward, his voice low and steady. “Hey, listen to me. You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Accidents happen, especially when you’re trying something new. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse—and that you’ve got good people like Lauren looking out for you.”

Speaking of Lauren, she was most likely speaking to the paramedics that brought you in, she definitely found him good looking.

You nod, biting your lip. “I still feel a bit stupid, though.”

“Don’t,” he says firmly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You’re human, love. And now I have a good excuse to keep you off the ice forever.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile that forms. “I’m guessing you’re not a fan of ice skating either?”

“Not even a little,” he admits with a grin. “But I would’ve held your hand out there, just like Lauren did—though I probably would’ve fallen right along with you.”

You laugh softly, the warmth of his words easing some of the tension in your chest. “Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

The curtain pulls back, and the doctor steps in, holding a clipboard. She’s wearing a calm, reassuring smile as she approaches.

“Hello,” she says, glancing between you and Harry. “We’ve looked at your X-rays, and I’ve got some answers for you.”

You sit up a little straighter, your stomach twisting nervously. “Okay…”

“You’ve got a hairline fracture on your radius,” she explains, tapping a spot on the diagram attached to her clipboard. “It’s not severe, but it does mean you’ll need to have your arm in a cast to protect it while it heals. We’ll get that set up for you shortly, and it should come off in about six weeks.”

You let out a long sigh, slumping back against the pillow. “Six weeks?”

The doctor nods sympathetically. “I know it’s inconvenient, but it’s important to let the bone heal properly. You’ll need to avoid heavy lifting, and we’ll give you instructions for keeping the cast dry and comfortable.”

You nod, but your mind is already spinning. “So…that means I’ll have a cast over Christmas?”

The realization makes your heart sink a little.

You picture yourself struggling to wrap presents, trying to cook with one arm, and navigating all the holiday traditions you love with this big, awkward thing on your arm.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor adds, noticing your reaction. “A lot of people find they get used to it faster than they expect. And six weeks will go by before you know it.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Harry says, his voice steady and polite.

As the doctor leaves to prepare the materials for your cast, Harry turns back to you, his green eyes sparkling with determination.

“Alright,” he says, pulling his chair even closer. “This is not a big deal. In fact, we’re going to make it fun.”

“Fun?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “How is having a cast fun?”

Harry leans forward, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Because I’m going to be the first to sign it. Big, bold letters, right across the top.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite your frustration. “And what are you going to write?”

“Oh, something sentimental,” he says with a mock-serious tone. “Like, ‘To the most amazing ice skater I know.’ Or maybe just, ‘Next time, use bubble wrap.’”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now, the weight of the situation starting to feel a little lighter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am,” he agrees, leaning closer to kiss your temple. “But I’m also going to make sure this is the best Christmas you’ve ever had—even if you’re stuck with a cast.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap protectively around you. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Always,” he murmurs, running his fingers through your hair again. “Now, let’s get this cast on, and then we’ll figure out how to turn it into a masterpiece of modern art. Sound good?”

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

OMFG! Made the mistake of looking in the comments section and saw so many, "Not all Catholics/Christians!" comments.

Nobody is saying all Catholics/Christians would support this. But the kidnapping and forced conversion of Edgardo Mortara and countless crimes like it are irrevocably tied to the religion because of the hundreds of years of violence done by Catholics and Christians in the name of God. I googled this and found articles by modern-day Catholics supporting the kidnapping!

You don't get to pick and choose the parts of the religions' history you accept. If you are bothered by this enough that you want to make sure people don't think all Catholics/Christians are like this, you will accomplsh that much better by reblogging it as is, educating yourself about the church's past, and doing what you can to spread awareness and condemnation of it.

Love seeing something from TikTok and going “girlie that is literally what led to the downfall of the Papal States”

[leoivys]

𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑻 𝑺𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑨 — 𝑱𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑫𝑫

– contents; fluff and mostly batfam stuff instead of just romance

– summary; a casually chaotic Secret Santa with the bat family as Jason's partner.

– word count; 1.5k

The roofs of the houses were beginning to gain a white hue as more snowflakes fell gracefully – the children in the city found joy in it, their laughter echoed in the streets while they initiated snowball fights with their friends and neighbors. Adults were busy shopping or grabbing a coffee to catch up in the presence of their loved ones, and the holiday music played in every street. Christmas was known for bringing even the most distant people back together.

A part of you hated how cold it was, but it was your idea to take a walk around the city with your partner before you drove over to the manor for Christmas day like you usually do. However, how can one ignore such events on these joyous days just for their own comfort?

The fuzzy feeling of the gloves around your hands and your coat enveloping you in its warmth was rather enjoyable even if the world outside was freezing while you walked with Jason. A soft sigh escaped you as you finally entered Wayne Manor, welcomed by Alfred opening the door for you and the heat that escaped the inside of the building.

Greetings, hugs, and smiles were exchanged with more excitement than usual while you took your seat on the couch in the main living room amongst the rest of the family – everything was decorated; the tree that you all helped set up, stockings on the fireplace with everyone's names engraved on the soft red fabric and no one can skip Alfred's baked goods resting on the coffee table.

It's odd thinking that a few years back, most of the family members were off doing their own thing instead of being here and spending time with everyone else like Jason avoided them for a good few years before he finally gave in. Now, everyone was present and agreed to have a Secret Santa along with the rest of the activities scheduled for that day.

Tim and Damian were surprisingly getting along, wearing matching Christmas sweaters as well, and then you noticed Dick supervising the two with a proud smile drawn on his face as he kept a conversation with Jason and Steph. Duke was helping Alfred bring in more sweets on the table. Cass and Barbara were calmly chatting with you about various topics and the one at hand; who was Secret Santa for who?

Meanwhile, Bruce observed everyone with a hint of a smile and a sigh as the place filled with chatter and the life it lacked most of the year due to responsibilities, his shoulders relaxed as he was more than happy to host this event annually and welcome his family –and those who he considered family– home.

“Alright everyone, enough of your chit chats. Let's start.” Dick stated, too excited to wait even further as he quickly moved to grab a present from under the tree and took a moment to read the name on it and handed it to Cass, and then kept handing out presents to everyone.

Each family member got something based on their personality, training, or hobby, and some presents were filled with meme cards describing them. Eager chuckles echoed in the room before Bruce interrupted.

“Who got that for Damian?” He asked in a mockingly firm tone as he pointed at the young boy swaying a katana similar to the one he had when he got trained by his grandfather in his hands. Just before anyone could answer, Barbara did everyone a favor and started playing Christmas music through the speakers set by the tree.

Jason scoffed at the sight of Bruce's dynamic with Damian – it had been a while since a youngling had given him a heart attack, enjoying the show and unwrapping his present. His hands traced the hardcover of the book as he lifted it up and read the title; ‘All the light we cannot see’ which had him confused for a moment. He had that book in his library already, didn't he? So he studied it further, flipping through the first few pages only to find that not only was it a first edition copy, but it was signed too.

His eyes flicked to you as his hands traced the sign on the delicate page of the book before he snapped the book closed with a smile brighter than the star atop the tree. Jason immediately knew that his gift was from you since he had been ranting about how much he wanted this for the past month or so. His suspicions were confirmed by the smile on your face.

It was really hard to find it online and get it signed just for him, but you knew it would be worth it.

“You didn't.” Jason mumbled, finding the fact that he had this book in his hands as he clutched onto it like it might disappear into thin air.

The known-for-his-violent-ways Red Hood was now acting like a literal child on Christmas, completely awestruck and bringing you in a tight hug as he muttered his thank you's. His attitude earned a chuckle from you, his embrace giving you even more warmth while his heart was beating out of his chest.

Duke blinked a few times. The newest addition to the family was having a hard time trying to process the sight before him. “Is Jason okay, or is he having some sort of cardiac arrest?” he managed to mutter, his gaze shifting to everyone else laughing at his question.

Your gift consisted of newly made gadgets, upgraded equipment, and a personal touch with a vintage Polaroid to top it off – definitely Tim's job.

Yet you couldn't help but be thankful for those, given Dick's situation; shirts that were literally merchandise about his butt, an eye mask for power naps, and a ‘big brother manual’ book. “Whose idea was this?” His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in mock annoyance, a small smile brightening his fine features.

“That's a brilliant idea, Dick.” Jason chimed in, not bothering to hide his usual smug smirk. It was definitely him who thought of that combination as a good Christmas gift for his older brother.

Meanwhile, Barbara wasn't having it easy either, with the present in her hands containing a vintage phone and a custom Lego set of Oracle. “A Nokia? Really?” She asked, a low chuckle escaping her lips as she turned to face Steph. “You're lucky I like Lego sets, but you're stuck in this with me.” Barb threatened playfully as she set the box by her side.

Stephanie raised her hands in the air in mock surrender, she didn't seem to mind the idea of building a custom Lego set in the company of Barbara; in fact, it was a good opportunity to spend a girl's night along with you and Cass while having a chit chat – or gossiping. “It's for emergencies. And the Lego set was cute.” She explained with a shrug.

“Fine. You'll see how cute it is when you have to build this many pieces.” Barb protested, her tone lacking real bite as she pointed back at the amount of pieces written on the box. “You're all invited to our suffering.” She commented jokingly, glancing at you and Cass.

Cass perked up at the idea, “I'll bring the snacks.” She said simply, her voice soothing as ever even as it held a bit of enthusiasm as she gave Barbara a thumbs-up.

Meanwhile, Dick was flipping through the pages of the manual and hastily reading the contents before he could comment on them. “Who wrote this?” He scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly, and continued reading. “...’Always take responsibility for your siblings' mess-ups.’ Really, Jason?”

Jason leaned back in his seat and shrugged, his arms crossed over his chest as an amused huff escaped him. “Merry Christmas, Dick.”

Tim studied the merch, trying his best to bite back his laughter at what his eyes met while Duke observed alongside Damian, who decided to address the situation accordingly. “That was uncalled for, even by your appallingly low standards, Todd.”

Dick sighed and shook his head once more, yet he couldn't help the grin spreading across his face as he couldn't help but find the situation entertaining. “You're so getting payback next year. And I'm rigging the draw.” He stated as he tried on his nap mask with a proud smirk.

Bruce, sitting quietly by the fireplace with Alfred whom he had exchanged gifts with, took another sip of his coffee and sighed, allowing himself a small chuckle as he watched the banter unfold. He was prouder than he'd care to admit, of everyone in the room.

“Everyone, pause.” You interrupted every party in the room as you took hold of your brand-new Polaroid and held it out for a selfie, trying to make sure everyone was in the frame. “Say ‘Merry Christmas!’.” You exclaimed with pure excitement and messily snapped a picture, holding the moment forever captive.

– a/n; Merry Christmas and happy holidays in general ♡

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ A SERENE CELEBRATION, MERRY CHRISTMAS

A younger Bakugou Katsuki had always been certain of his future. At 26, he’d be a man with it all: a nice house, a career as the undisputed Number One Hero, happily married, and maybe, just maybe, a little brat on the way. That was the dream his teenage self clung to—the vision he worked tirelessly to acheive.

At 26, Bakugou stood in the middle of your shared apartment, arms crossed and staring at the half-decorated Christmas tree with a deep scowl. Strings of golden lights glimmered around the tree’s branches, lengths of ribbons are accompanied by shimmering with faux flowers, and ornaments—carefully chosen by you—hung delicately in place.

The problem? The color scheme.

“What’s wrong with red and gold?”

“It’s boring,” Bakugou grumbled. “We do red and gold every year.”

“It’s classic!” you argued, turning to face him fully. “And it matches the rest of the apartment’s decor!”

He narrowed his eyes. He could not believe that he’s having this conversation with you right now.

“We could try something new for once. Like silver and blue.”

You gasped, clutching an ornament like he’d just insulted you personally—even cursed your entire bloodline and ancestors. “Silver and blue? Are you trying to make our tree look like a corporate lobby?”

“It’d look cooler than this,” he shot back, gesturing vaguely at the warm-toned ornaments. “This looks like something out of a cheesy holiday catalog.”

“And what’s wrong with cheesy?” you challenged.

Bakugou opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t actually have anything against cheesy—hell, he secretly loved how excited you got during the holidays. But arguing about it? That was part of the fun, if not a branch of his quality time as a love language.

“Whatever,” he muttered, grabbing a red bauble and hanging it perfectly on the tree. “You’re just scared to try something new.”

You laughed, walking over with another ornament to decorate with. “And you’re just scared because I’m right.”

As Bakugou worked to string the lights around the higher branches, you began unpacking the remaining ornaments from your storage box. You pulled out a small, slightly worn ornament in the shape of a star and held it up with a nostalgic smile.

“Do you remember this?”

He glanced down from the tree, frowning at the star in your hand. “Should I?”

No matter how much he tries to remember, he simply couldn’t recall what made this star so special that you had to ask him if he remembers it.

It’s a star, that’s for sure. A faded one at that.

You sighed, clearly unimpressed by his lack of sentimentality. “It’s the first ornament we bought together. Back when we were... what, eighteen?”

Bakugou paused. It had been a spur-of-the-moment purchase during a rare day off from hero training.

You had somehow convinced him to go with you to wander around a Christmas market, bickering over everything from what food stalls to visit to what decorations looked “cool.” You had insisted on the star, and Bakugou—reluctantly—agreed after a heated argument about which shape of star’s better.

“Are you having a flashback monologue right now?”

That brought out a scoff from him. “Fuck no. Just remembered how you were annoying as hell that day,” he muttered.

“And you were so stubborn, god. You kept saying it was pointless to buy an ornament because I didn’t even have a tree back in my dorm.”

“Yeah, and you said, ‘It's not about the tree; it's about the tradition.’ What kinda cheesy crap was that?”

“It's true, though!” you argued, accepting his hand to place the star gently on the tree’s highest branch. “And now, look. We still have it. And now we can buy all the Christmas trees we could ever want.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As you continued decorating, the sound of your laughter and playful arguments filled the apartment, giving it a cozy home feel. By the time the tree was finished, Bakugou begrudgingly admitted to himself that it didn’t look half bad—even if it was the same colors as last year, though a decent fortune was spent for it to not be too repetitive.

It’s a good thing his work pays well (you split the cost of decorations equally; he just says that his work pays better even if yours is a lot higher than his).

You stepped back, admiring your work with a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Now, onto the Christmas Eve menu. I was thinking we could do something light this year—maybe roasted chicken and a salad?”

Bakugou groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “Salad? On Christmas Eve? No fucking way.”

“What’s wrong with salad?”

“Is your childhood a bland mess to have salad as one of the main foods? It’s boring,” he said, sticking his tongue out at you when you gave him a pointed look. “We should make something warm and filling.”

“Okay, but you’re helping.”

“Since when did I ever leave all the cookin’ to you?”

Now that he’s 26, standing in the modest yet cozy apartment he shares with you, he realizes that dreams don’t always come in the exact shape you imagine.

Sure, he doesn’t have the massive house he once envisioned, but this apartment—filled with laughter, memories, and the faint scent of your favorite candles—is more of a home than anything his younger self could have dreamed up. The framed photos of your milestones, the shelves of books, and even a few of his hero equipment with the tools scattered on his office—it’s all perfect in a way he didn’t know he needed.

And his career? Well, Dynamight isn’t the Number One Hero yet, but he’s close. Close enough that his younger self would sneer but grudgingly admit it’s not bad.

He’s built a solid name for himself, and he’s done it his way. His rank might not be where he wanted it to be at this age, but he’s learned something more valuable than being the best—he’s learned the importance of balance.

The last part of that dream? The wife? He looks toward the kitchen, where you’re humming some off-tune melody, beginning to prepare what Bakugou’s about to cook with for dinner. The sight of you, so comfortable and almost glowing in your shared space, makes his chest tighten.

He must have a heart problem by this point because it comes at him at the most unexpected times whenever he sees you.

No, he doesn’t have a wife yet. But he’s about to change that.

He’s been thinking about it for weeks now.

He’s got the ring—it’s hidden in the drawer under his socks, where he knows you won’t go snooping.

He knows you’ll say yes, but he would be damned if he didn’t admit that it made him a bit nervous. He knows because you look at him the same way he looks at you: like the world would become lighter and easier to conquer as long as you have the other.

But still, he waits.

Not because he’s unsure, but because he wants the timing to be perfect. Not rushed, not forced. He’s learned to be patient over the years.

“Kats, help with cutting the onions, please!”

“Yeah, yeah. Comin’!”

Soon, he’ll drop the question. He’s not in a rush. This is your life together, and it’s not perfect, but it is just right—chaotic, loud, and full of love. And when the time comes, he’ll make sure you know just how much you mean to him.

But you already know that, don’t you?

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[blueblossomrose]

Pleaseeeee I wanna see more on leona from the parent thing 🥺

Course! Here we go!

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, Leona being a tired dad, fem!afab!mc, fluffy.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Being a father was never something that really crossed his mind. Dealing with Cheka, and his own childhood problems, made him skeptical about the idea.

MC kind of knew about it, but she was ready to tell him anyway.

Leona was surprised and at the same time not. He wouldn't verbalize about it, but after the wedding, his mind turned to children for the first time.

He wouldn't say it was a desire to have children, but more like a concept, imagination.

Well, now he didn't have to imagine anymore.

In the first few months, he's sounds neutral. He doesn't hate it, but he has confused mixed feelings about it.

He doesn't feel the huge appeal, and deep down that makes him angry and sad.

Because he knows he's probably not making you feel safe, because he knows he is behaving exactly like his own parents, ignorants of love.

He refuses to ask Farena anything at first, but it gets to a point where he's so upset that he ends up venting to him.

Farena was straightforward in pointing out that Leona doesn't need to force himself to be something he's not. That he doesn't need to doubt his own emotions because of other people's emotions.

And after this conversation, he goes to talk to MC. She, despite being slightly confused too, didn't crucify him for it. Leona continued to protect her with all his might throughout her pregnancy.

When MC's belly grows and he feels the first kick, his mental confusion worsened, conflicting feelings hitting each other, and even though he still seemed indifferent... there was something between and MC notice.

When he held the babies in his arms for the first time, however... his gaze, which had been different, changed completely.

He loved those children. There was no way he could hate them.

He was: "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to them."

And MC was: "I know 😊"

He is a tired father, as expected of him. Yet, he's doing well there.

One of the common scenes is him lying on your lap while you fold clothes or do some other activity, and your children on top of him, pulling his ears and tail while he sleeps.

When they are babies, Leona is ok to stay up with them while MC sleeps. He understands how tiring it is. Plus, he likes to feel important when he sees that the little ones fall asleep more easily when they are in his arms.

Many times you wake up with the babies on top of you because Leona put them in bed to sleep with you two.

As the babies grow, you notice more clearly how docile Leona is with his daughter.

As if anything Zuri asked for, Leona would give it to her.

He would play with her dolls wearing a pink dress if she asked.

Which honestly wouldn't be impossible for her to ask for. Zuri is very demanding.

Totally different from Zayne and Sekani. Zayne is calmer, really quiet. Sekani is a shy, very sweet boy, and slightly fearful...

Zayne enjoys playing board games even at a young age. Leona doesn't mind playing with him often. It's pretty funny when sometimes he ends up losing and looks at his 6 year old son like this: 🤨

He compliments Zayne anyway.

Sekani is undeniably more attached to his mother, since he is the type of child who likes to be pampered with affection and MC is always holding him in her arms.

But Leona also showers him with affection (in a more discreet way), so he enjoys being with his father as well. Leona makes him feel safe, so whenever he is scared, Sekani runs to his father.

Despite sometimes complaining, Leona spends a lot of time with them. A lot of time. MC soon realizes that it is him giving his children the affection and attention that he did not receive.

Also, Cheka joins his cousins to go and bother his uncle. He loves having someone to play with now!

Leona having his three children and nephew glued to him 24 hours a day. Okay, maybe I exaggerated. 8 hours a day.

MC often joins in on the fun. When playing tag, Leona is usually quick to catch her because he knows where she usually hides. He will jump on you without mercy and probably scare you, but he will quickly make you laugh with involuntary tickles.

Leona finds the kids easily. And the kids can find you easily when it's their turn. Hide and seek with beastmen is no fun.

At the end of the day, Leona watches you sleeping in his arms along with the children... and he thinks that love and being loved like that isn't bad at all.

[confusedshades]

Jason and Dick were sparring in the cave when a portal opened up. Dick and Jason flipped to confront whoever it was that had summoned the portal while the Batcave alarms shrieked in the background about intruders. Jason however recognised the portal and stood down. "Hey Danny. Thought I wasn't due for another session until next month." Jason called out to the teenager? Young adult? Who floated out of the portal. Dick eased out of his position and walked over to the Batcomputer to silence the alarms.

The last shriek had barely faded before the cave door slammed open and Tim came bolting down the stairs while Bruce and Damian - who'd barely left for early patrol came screeching back in the Batmobile. "Friendly presence." Dick called out as he walked down to the lower levels where everyone was. "Jason's friend came over suddenly is all." Jason was still talking to the person and both had ignored everything around them, but hearing the questioning lilt to the word friend they both snorted and turned to everyone else.

"Hi, I'm Phantom." The - teenager? Young adult? Dick was having a hard time figuring out the person's age - person introduced themselves with a wave. "I'm the prince in training for the infinite realms and one of the duties I have is fixing time stream nonsense and ectoplasmic leakages, poisonings, etc. it's why I'm here."

Dick thought of Wally and Barry and winced. "If you're looking for one of the Flashes, they're not here; not sure what ectoplasmic leakages would even look like so can't help you there." Dick could feel Batman's glare at the easy share of information but he ignored it. If Jason trusted this Phantom, then that was enough for him.

Jason huffed a half laugh and shook his head. "Pits are ectoplasmic leakages. Phantom's been treating me for what we call Pit rage but is basically ectoplasmic poisoning. In exchange Ra's has been loosing his Pits throughout the world - some explosively some just mysteriously." For however freely the words were offered, Dick noticed how he kept shooting looks to Batman's grim countenance. He'd turned into a brooding looming statue where he stood. Given Damian standing almost shoulder to shoulder, the transformation was almost everyday now.

Robin had just nodded as if this was information he already had. "There are no Pits in Gotham Phantom. What brings you here today?" Dick mentally cheered - Damian's attack first ask questions later behaviour had been on the mend lately and everytime he was more polite and not aggressive, Dick took it for a win.

Phantom, Danny Dick suddenly remembered Jason calling him, just shifted. "Not here for a ectoplasmic leakage or one of the Flashes - Clocky can take care of those idiots himself. I'm here because Red there needs an anchor." When Danny gestured to Tim, everyone turned to look at him.

Tim for his part, blinks. "Uh what? I don't live on a boat anymore so if you're here for an anchor for that, I don't need it?" Dick frowned. He recognised what Tim was doing, he'd seen that technique of teenage naivete and misunderstanding pulled out at various social functions before he pulled off whatever maneuver he had planned to take the other party off guard. Businessmen, CEOs, rogues - they all fell to it. But the reason it worked? Tim always knew what they were talking about.

"Tim?" Dick asked. "Why would you need an anchor?" When Tim opened his mouth, Dick cut him off. "A non boat anchor?" Tim obediently closed his mouth and looked away mulishly.

Phantom coughed awkwardly. "Um, we can talk about it privately given the medical aspect of it if you prefer." When Tim nodded, he and Phantom went to the corner where all sounds were naturally deadened. While they had their own whispered conversation, Robin moved to Jason's side. "Has mother contacted you recently akhi?"

Dick left them to their own conversation and turned to see Bruce still scowling. "Oh come off it B. Jason recognised them immediately and you know Jason doesn't trust easily. If he trusts them, that's good enough for me."

"hn." Was the only grunt Dick got for his trouble, but after decades of Batmanese he knew it meant I don't like it but you're right.

----

"I'm not accepting an anchor Phantom. I told you last time too. There's too much to be done and getting older isn't going to help." Tim hissed as he crossed his arms angrily.

Danny just sighed. "Dude, if I don't do it soon, you'll become unglued. As in the next timeline shenanigans you get pulled into might turn catastrophic."

Tim just huffed. "So you've said. I've got contingencies in place for that. Do you have one for keeping Batman tethered?"

Danny scowled. "Yes I do. It's called therapy."

"Good luck getting him to accept it." Tim muttered.

When Danny Phantom appears in the Batcave, everyone expects he's there for Jason. Whether to cleanse him of Lazarus water, or pull him into the afterlife it depends on the person, but what no one expects is that he's there for Tim.

Meanwhile, Danny doesn't mind dealing with some ectopoisoning while he's in the neighborhood, but the real reason Clockwork sent him to Gotham is to retether Red Robin to the time stream so he can finally age to adulthood. He has spent way too long as a teenager, and no one seems to be noticing.

[johnbrand]

Laundry Mishap

“Hey dude,” Blake greeted, closing the door and locking it behind him.

Aaron did not bother looking up from his phone, “Sup.”

Blake’s lips began to curl as he entered the apartment, spotting his roommate on the massive chair.

“Who you textin’, bro?”

“Trying to pick up Kenzie,” Aaron responded. “But she’s hesitatin’ for some reason.” 

Blake picked up on the dull quality of his roommate’s voice, the vocal fry even stronger with Aaron was only half paying attention to their conversation. Blake took this opportunity to continue analyzing his roommate.

“Did you already hit the gym today?” Blake questioned, knowing Aaron had never once considered working out in his life.

“Just for a coupl’a hours this morning, yeah.” Aaron casually stretched out his legs a bit, as if to emphasize his point. They were long, hairy, and thick with muscle. Blake could not help but admire his roommate’s calves and the juicy thighs spilling out of the tight short shorts. “Worked the quads and hammies, even got some glutes action.”

The bubble butt Aaron was currently cushioned on confirmed this. Due to the oversized hoodie his roommate was currently wearing, Blake could not visually discern if the upper body matched the lower. “I thought you typically did ab days on Fridays?”

Aaron shrugged, one of his hands slinking away from his phone and down to his pouch. “Yeah but some of the machines were just too full.” Aaron casually palmed himself before continuing. “Buncha fags kept gettin’ in the way with their sissy routines.”

Blake was a bit surprised by the sudden homophobic remark. And by his roommate’s continual groping, as if it was reinforcing the new bigoted mindset. But it did not bother Blake; rather it made him even more excited. He did not have a problem with gay people, but the remarks were confirming that Aaron was no longer the derpy Discord homo that Blake had left in the apartment just eight hours earlier.

“...Bro?” Aaron had finally looked up from his phone, a smidge of disgust smearing across his perfect model-like face.

Blake immediately made eye contact, not realizing that he had lost himself staring at his roommate’s awakening cock. “Did Kenzie get back to you yet?” Blake tried to redirect the conversation, hoping his roommate would now be dumb enough to forget the harmless mistake.

Aaron peered down at his phone, simple glee replacing his former frown. “Ah dude she did!” Blake’s own smile returned, the test of his roommate’s lowered intelligence successful. “God hope she gets ready soon, I’m so boned up right now for some reason…”

With Aaron once again distracted, Blake stealthily eyed his accomplice with a knowing nod of gratitude, as if they had been along together for the ride like partners in crime. Being inanimate objects, the white Nike crew socks did not reply back, but their presence on his roommate’s feet were enough of a confirmation for Blake. Their thick terry material and ribbed arch bands perfectly wrapped Aaron's soles. 

Just hours earlier, the socks would have been at least three or four sizes too large for Aaron. In fact all the clothing Aaron was currently wearing would have swamped his former puny frame, nor would it have identified as a part of his personal style. Aaron’s former closet consisted of graphic tees, cargo shorts, and mismatched accessories. And by every Thursday, Aaron’s laundry hamper consisted of these same articles too, ready to be washed the next morning. All Blake had to do was “accidentally” drop in a pair of his sweaty, used socks; the simple “laundry mishap” would do the rest.

Blake would never know what had truly happened to the former Aaron, but he could at least imagine. In his mind, Blake envisioned Aaron preparing his laundry, then proceeding to find the funky gift, then getting boned up over the smell of a straight man’s feet and feeling the urge to try them on, and finally the magic happening. It was an exciting fantasy to conceptualize.

“Alright bro, she’s coming over in 10 for a quickie.” Aaron quickly stood up. Before, his roommate's sightline had reached Blake’s neck, but now they were able to make direct eye. “After that, wanna play a few rounds of COD?”

Blake grinned, his fantasy having become reality. “Sure thing, bro.”

[abadbadbrujah]

Jane Espenson writing the majority of Spike episodes where he shows positive character growth, the fact that Spike is the antithsis of Angel and that Joss Wheadon hated his popularity can not be by coincidence.

I know I'm connecting a lot of dots with this one (that have probably been connected before), but she quiet literally wrote the episode where he is reintroduced in season 4 with "Harsh Light of Day", where he becomes part of the Scoobies with "Pangs", "Doomed" and "A New Man".

Then later on in Season 5 saved his character with the masterful "Intervention" where in the same episode she writes Spike creating the sexbot he also shows his worth by being tortured (where we see him being penetrated) and not breaking.

In the season 6 episode she wrote "After Life" where we see Spike's trauma of Buffy dying and how he is literally the only Scoobie to be able to look after her after being resurrected, as he himself has gone through the trauma of dying then digging out of his own grave. Also in this episode we see that he has now taken the mantel of Dawn's supernatural protector, out of surviors guilt from the events of the season 5 finale, and then later on how those events have haunted him every night. Jane then wrote Spike to be the only person in Doublemeat Palace to offer Buffy a way out of working there.

Season 7 Jane co-wrote the highly acclaimed "Conversations with Dead People" then "Sleeper" and "First Date" where we see Spike's fall to The First and where he killed people, but also where we see how he has risen in Buffy's eye's to being trustworthy in "First Date".

With all this being said you can probably understand now why I'd say a lot of Spike nuance is credited to Jane Espenson. To quote James in the SDCC 2012 Buffy panel "Joss would come up to me about 3 episodes in to every season and say he has no idea what to do with me", so this meant the other writers (mostly Jane) to take over with writing Spike. So you can see why it's not too far fethced to say she is the reason behind his popularity as she set a lot of the ground work after s2, outside of James's himself giving a masterful preformance. Later on in the SDCC 2012 Buffy Panel she says "we knew we had this amazingly verstial character largely because we had this amazingly verstial actor, we knew whatever we put infront of James he could do..." this shows that she felt comfortable making Spike into whatever she wanted.

For my last point, there's a lot of examples here that the fandom loves to highlight Spike's being Angel's opposite, like how Spike's treament of a Minor having a crush on him compared to the soul having Angel's. Spike's complete polar opposite on how he see's love as something postive to protect, where as Angelus's use of love as a tool to torture someone with. William loved and respected women where as Liam only used the ones around him.

This all leads me to the conclusion that Spike was more popular than Angel mostly because of Jane's input and groundwork on the character after season 2, and we all know how Joss felt about Spike's popularity and there's no way Jane didn't make all his postive traits the opposite of Angel by coincidence.

Thank you Jane for creating what I believe to be one of the best characters in media history and for being the original Spike girlie.

[runnning-outof-time]

Someone For Christmas - Tommy Shelby x Reader

“You’ve been a better man since she’s entered your life, Thomas,” Polly commented, a knowing look present on her face, “don’t go back to the man you were before her.”

She was the first to visit the brooding Tommy Shelby that evening, and she brought back to light all of the poor choices he’d made in the past.

“She’s done way more for you than anyone else has,” Ada said as she sat down across from her brother, “I see how she helps you every day. Only a fool would let her go, Tom.”

Tommy stared straight ahead at the Christmas tree as his sister rehashed all of the correct decisions he’d made recently…and she made sure to point out how the woman being mentioned was part of every one.

“I really like her, dad,” five year old Charles Shelby’s voice was soft as he held onto the doorknob of his father’s study. “Will she come back for Christmas?”

This time, Tommy looked at the person — the third of the day — addressing him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. “I…I, I don’t know, son,” was all he managed to get out.

“Why’d you call me here, Tommy?”

This time Tommy Shelby was the one who requested a visitor.

“I wanted to speak to you,” he answered, not realizing how business forward the sentence sounded until it left his lips. The fact that her one eyebrow quirked upward immediately after he finished speaking told him that he’d be fighting an up-hill battle.

“About?” she asked, her guard still very much up. She couldn’t believe he called her back again….she couldn’t believe she gave in and listened, again.

“I need you to come back, (Y/N),” he decided it’d be best not to dance around the subject.

“If you want to win me back, that’s not how you do it,” she blatantly responded. Tommy sighed, running a hand over his face. “Did someone put you up to this?” she then asked another question, “because it seemed like where we stood was pretty final the last time we spoke.”

“Charlie came to me,” he chose the one out of his previous three visitors who he felt would cut through her reinforcements the deepest. “He said he missed you, asked if you’d be here for Christmas. He really likes you.”

“I really like him too,” a soft smile formed on (Y/N)’s face as she thought of the boy. Tommy thought he was finally gaining some headway. “Shame his father’s a terrible man,” she couldn’t resist getting a dig in.

“(Y/N)…” Tommy locked eyes with her, a deadpanned expression present on his features.

“You brought this upon yourself,” she didn’t crumble under his gaze, instead returning it to him.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” he paused to sigh, pressing the pads of his thumb and index finger against his eyelids, “this meeting was meant to be an extension of an olive branch.”

“Tommy Shelby offering peace?” the surprise was clear in (Y/N)’s voice as her eyes widened greatly. “Well I’ll be damned…it’s a Christmas miracle!” her sarcastic comment had him sending another glare her way. She couldn’t help but smile at it…she was having fun getting under his skin.

A moment’s pause fell over the conversation as Tommy took some time to regain himself. There was no use blowing this up to more than it had to be. He knew (Y/N) was trying to push his buttons, and he had to hand it to her…she was succeeding. There was no hiding the fact that they had some things that they needed to hash out, and he had no doubt that they’d get to that soon enough. Christmas Eve wasn’t the time for that though. Right now all that he could think of was his son, and how he so desperately wanted someone other than his preoccupied father sitting beside him in front of the Christmas tree come tomorrow morning.

“Will you accept it?” he finally asked, affirming that he wanted no parts of getting into the details of the animosity that stood between them.

Now it was (Y/N)’s turn to think. She truly did love Charlie, even if his father had been getting on her nerves as of recently. What she didn’t want was this to seem like her seceding to him so quickly. If he wanted her back this time, he was going to have to work for it.

“(Y/N)?” Tommy called out, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the conversation they were having.

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she looked at him again. His eyes were already intently on her, and she knew that he wouldn’t wait much longer for her response. Thankfully she’d decided - right now they didn’t need to discuss what their future would look like…right now they needed to focus on going one day at a time.

So with that in mind, she answered him: “everyone should have someone for Christmas…” she paused, letting those words sink in for a moment before she added the second half of her statement: “and right now, that’s all you’ll have me for.”

A/N: congrats on 17k, Chi! I’m sorry that wasn’t able to write something more than these few lines. This was my take on the movie/book A Christmas Carol - I hope it came across as such.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @succubaby @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

@justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader

@red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

@ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[nonbinarymlm]

I’ve struggled with replying to this, because in theory I agree with you on many things in this reply, but it also sets my teeth on edge. I’ve been thinking about it and it’s not that you’re wrong exactly, it’s that the way you’re engaging with this conversation sucks.

You took a post from a man criticizing Radfems and said it “sets off alarm bells in my head of people reframing every sexism related issue and treating it as something that primarily/solely harms women to appease people who are vehemently opposed to anyone caring about men being treated like shit.” The fact that you saw a single post that was focused (not positively) on women and a term you seem to be unfamiliar with and decided it was about appeasing people who want to be cruel to men is a you problem.

I didn’t come up with the term “benevolent sexism”, it’s been a term for research on sexism since the 90s. It’s part of a much more complex theory around sexism about gender roles and sexist stereotypes that may ON THE SURFACE be positive called “Ambivalent Sexism”. The reality of these beliefs is that they have resulted in financial, physical, medical, and political oppression of when for centuries. It’s okay to have conversations focused on women about that.

Not to mention that you saw all of one conversation and then decided it was wrong for that conversation to be with women. I agree that the negative attitudes of sexism toward men deserves more discussion, but a single tumblr post focused on women does not harm men in any way. You are not, in fact, required to dismiss or derail conversations about women in order to have conversations around men. It’s detrimental, in fact, because this kind of bad faith engagement makes complex discussions around gender more difficult.

If you cannot handle a single post focusing on women (by being critical of them! this is clearly not a radfem post) without implying that it’s wrong for the post to focus on women, then you are not helping these discussions.

ESPECIALLY because I literally run an mlm blog that talks frequently about men. It’s literally in my URL. You could have taken two seconds to search “men” on my blog to see I frequently reblog and make posts about the issues men face. Imagine saying stuff about complex sexist stereotypes on a post about women? Like? Are you seriously implying it’s bad that I made a single post about women?

If this were the only type of post I made about sexism, then sure. But like I said

I Post

About

Men

(And related issues)

All

The

Time

(And I have made more posts about this and these are only posts I made myself, but reblogged ones!)

I made one (1) post focused on women and I get accused of trying to erase the struggles of men, center conversations about sexism only on women, and acting like I am trying to frame my discussions as appealing to radfems. Do you see why this might rub me the wrong way?

So if you can’t see one single post from me about women without assuming I only center conversations about sexism on women then that is a problem with how you are engaging with conversations about sexism.

We should have more conversations about the ways men are affected by sexism, but these conversations need to had in good faith. Your addition was not in good faith, and what’s most frustrating is that you KNOW your addition was not in good faith. You said “more charitably” because you know the earlier part of your post was not, in fact, a charitable interpretation of this post at all. You also just posted that interpretation without bothering to double check it at all. :/

I understand having a knee jerk reaction to and assumptions about a post. But if you want to have actual, meaningful conversations about men and sexism? Then you are going to have to learn to put your knee jerk “alarm bells” away to actually take others in good faith.

TL;DR seeing a single post about women and reacting that the person who made it always focuses their conversations on women despite having “mlm” in their URL is just so bad faith that it’s the kind of take that makes discussions sound sexism harder to have in general. We do need more discussion of men, and I contribute to that, so engaging with my efforts on that would have been more productive and helpful then criticizing a post about women for being about women.

We need to bring back the term “benevolent sexism” into widespread use for real. It’s a major mechanism in how bioessentialist Girlboss Radfems can be turned into bioessentialist conservative Tradwives.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

My jewish community, friends, rabbi, and educators: We are very invested in helping you be jewish. Do you want to help read the haftarah? Here's a chanukiah! You can have it!! Borrow these books! Here's some books! You need more books... Come to pesach! Come to the chanukah party! When are your classes done? We need a minyan for once!

Me and my 50000 IQ: What if I am Secretly Appropriating judaism? What if I am doing a Cultural Appropriation........