#she had to be all like ‘I do everything for you and nothing is happening to you’

[entitled-fangirl]

Little doe.

Cregan Stark x betrothed Velaryon!reader

Summary: the reader is everything Cregan isn't- soft, kind, and delicate. He's determined to be gentle.

Warnings: age gap, soft dominance, talk of blood and consummating a marriage, bedding ceremony

A/n: This one is fluff and stuff. Perhaps a part two with a little smut is needed 🤭

Masterlist

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Cregan was only a tad worried.

The journey back to Winterfell was almost silent, and he was beginning to grow concerned for the quiet woman seated on her horse next to him.

The Velaryon Princess.

After winning the war, young Aegon III honored his mother’s promise to the Stark: help win the war, and he could have the hand of the Princess.

Rhaenyra’s only daughter.

When Daemon had found out about his wife’s bargaining while he was away in Harrenhall, he was furious. The child was not his and still he felt a responsibility for her. And handing off the only daughter to a dynasty like this one felt wrong.

But that was then. And this is now.

Cregan’s horse brushed against hers. “Nervous?”

Her head turned, her eyes moving over his face as if taking in every inch of him.

He now realized just how much she looked like her brothers.

She was the second eldest child, between Jace and Luke, and yet she was nothing like the two. Her parents (all four of them) had kept her from even the hint of conflict and battle, and it showed. She was more graceful and delicate, soft-spoken and kind, not an experienced warrior who could lead against the greens with an iron fist.

That’s what worried the Stark.

He was quite a bit her elder, her now 18 and him being 24. A lot of change happens in a mere six years- for Cregan, he had fought and won a whole war in less time than that of their age gap. And because of his well fought war, he was more harsh.

He feared he couldn’t be the gentle husband she needed.

She hummed, as if that was answer enough for him. The soft clomping of their horses was the only sound between them.

He sighed. “I believe I asked you a question. It’s rude to ignore someone, Princess.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t meant offense by her actions. In fact, she was rather mortified that he had taken offense to it in the first place. “Perhaps a bit nervous,” she admitted softly. 

Her voice was soft and calm. It was everything Cregan was not used to.

He hummed back, not even aware that he was doing the very thing he criticized her for. “Winterfell is only a day’s right out. There’s not a reason for nerves.”

“I’ve not… I’ve not been away from Dragonstone or King’s Landing before,” she mumbled.

Cregan was surprised by that. But being the sheltered princess, he assumed there was much she didn’t know about. “You are in for an adventure then, little dragon.”

…

Outside of the castle doors, Cregan dismounted his horse and stepped to the princess. Without question or concern, he grabbed her by her hips and lifted her from her horse. Her body slid down his as he lowered her, their faces too close for comfort for either of them. As if in slow motion, her lips parted but no sound came out. She didn't know what to say.

Cregan's large hand brushed hair away from her face and his eyes set on her like a starved wolf- observant, and yet, ready to strike anything at a moment's notice.

His head dipped down, his nose brushing her temple as he took in the proximity of the two. "We'll marry soon," he remarked quietly.

Another hum came from her but he let it slide. It sounded more like the squeak of a frightened mouse and he would be an arse for ridiculing her for it. In fact, it amused him. His lips tugged up into a grin as his hands tightened on her waist. "You're not a big, strong dragon," he mused. He bent down a little more to whisper in her ear. "You're just a frightened deer."

Her big doe eyes stared up into his in anticipation and worry for his next move. She may have been innocent, but she was not dumb. She knew what powerful men did to women when they so choose.

His lips quirked up. "Can I kiss you, little doe?" He asked as his lips brushed her cheek.

She tilted her head down in embarrassment but Cregan caught her chin. 

"So soft," he mused kindly. "I can be patient."

He released her and her lungs finally filled with air. She rested a hand against the horse in an attempt to collect herself. He offered his arm politely, though his eyes said that it was expected of her to take it.

Together, they walked into Cregan's home.

…

"Knew I'd find you eventually," his deep voice interrupted the silence.

She gasped. Her hand dropped from the shelf she was admiring the contents of. "Lord Stark. Forgive me."

He shrugged. "Don't know why I would need to. Just a curious doe, hm?"

She shook her head insistently. "I only meant-"

"-Please," he smiled as he took slow steps to her. "My home is yours now. Don't apologize for being in your home."

She smiled lightly. "Thank you."

He reached out and took the carefully bound book in her hand. "Stark history," he noted. He flipped it back and forth. "Are you truly interested?"

She nodded.

He smiled- a genuine one. "I'm glad." He held it out for her to take again. But when her hand reached out, he pulled it back teasingly. When her face fell and her hand hesitated, he finally handed it to her. "If you want more, I can manage a few of the-"

"-Please," she insisted. 

His eyes traced her face and he nodded. "Course. Consider it done." He closed the distance and dipped his head down, kissing her head without much thought.

As he walked off, her hand came up to the spot he had just kissed.

…

During the entire wedding feast, she was lightheaded. The ceremony had her numb. But what really sold it all was Cregan's heavy kiss on her lips at the end of it. He had cupped her cheeks and gave her a weighted kiss. Like he was hungry. Like he'd consume her.

She tried to eat even a little of what was in front of her, but she couldn't. The back of Cregan's hand brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Eat."

She looked over to him with a questioning look. "I am."

He smiled, completely amused. His hand found a comfortable place to the back of her neck. "Staring at everyone else does nothing."

"I have not-"

His voice rumbled as he muttered her name. "I placed more on your plate minutes ago and you've yet to even notice."

"W-" True to his word, there was additional food on her plate. Her eyes bore into his. "Forgive me. I d-"

His thumb rubbed into the skin at the back of her neck. "-'s alright. But eat."

She hummed then paused and forced herself to give him a verbal answer. "I will."

He smiled, beginning to massage the nape of her neck. For someone so harsh, his hands were gentle.

…

She let out a shriek when the men finally set her down in the chamber. Cregan was already in there, ushered by the women. They had managed to get him down to his tunic and trousers. His head snapped to her when he heard the noise. 

He lightly shoved away the hands of the woman untying the strings of his tunic. He stepped through the small crowd of men with light shoves until he was next to Y/n.

She had been stripped of all but her shift, her hair tousled from its neat updo earlier. There was a slight fear to her eyes that worried Cregan. 

He pushed off the men enough to give the two room. He circled her and pulled her to him. With his chest against her back, his head lowered to kiss her neck. The men hollared and cheered, all excited that the Stark had begun the bedding ceremony.

His kisses trailed up her neck until his lips brushed her ear. "Are you scared?" He asked so lowly that only those two could hear. "I'll call it off."

She felt frozen, her eyes stuck on the ground.

He nipped at her ear, his hand slowly brushing down her forearm until he joined their hands together. "Squeeze my hand and I'll do it."

She had to force herself to wiggle each finger until she was able to finally squeeze his hand.

"Go," he muttered immediately against her neck to the others. There was a hesitation in the room. Like perhaps they hadn't heard him right.

Cregan's head raised slowly, taking in the room. His gaze was truly wolfish.

The room emptied after that.

When the door closed, Cregan's hands dropped from her body. He moved away, going to the small table against the wall and pouring himself a drink. He looked back with a questioning look if she wanted one, to which she denied.

Downing the cup, he filled it again and took it with him to move back to her. She had yet to move.

He stepped in front of her. "Are you afraid?"

Y/n lifted her chin to finally look at him. There was a glazed look in her eyes, though there were no tears. She took a breath to brave saying what she wanted. "Does it matter?"

His head lulled to the side with a sigh and a smile. He looked down at the content of the cup and swirled it before offering it.

Her fingers wrapped around it and she soon downed the contents.

"I will never force myself on you," he promised. He ran a hand through his hair. "Us North, we can be… brude-ish. I forget you were made with gentle hands." He takes the cup back. "Need more?"

She shook her head. And when he moved away, she walked to the bed and sat down.

Cregan soon joined her. He sat next to her and the two stared at the wall. He twiddled his thumbs awkwardly until he figured out what he wanted to say. "You're the most delicate woman I've ever known. I'm not sure what to do with you. I want to hold you but… my hands have never cradled anything. You understand?"

She nodded, picking at a string on her shift.

His hand covered hers. His head dipped down. "Give me a better answer than that."

She looked to him. "I do understand."

He accepted that. "Thank you." He gently pinched her chin between his fingers. Cregan's eyes darkened at the proximity of the two. His eyes raked over her face carefully, taking in every part of her. "Most beautiful doe I've ever laid eyes on."

…

"C'mere," Cregan motioned.

Y/n moved to him. 

The two had grown more familiar with one another. The consummation of their marriage remained undone, though neither cared. Cregan, the night of the wedding, had ruffled his wife's hair and slashed his hand to spread blood across the sheets. The North was none the wiser.

It was especially believable with how close the two had grown- though that was entirely unplanned.

When she neared the desk, he stood and offered his chair. He leaned over it to talk over her shoulder. "Look here." 

On Cregan's large wooden desk lay a large fabric with stitching in a webbing pattern, names scattered everywhere across it.

It was a Stark family tree.

His hand reached over her and brushed the fabric. "Here I am. And my brother- before he died. Father there, and mother." His hand came back to his spot, brushing idly. "I'll have your name sewn in soon."

She leaned back in the chair. "I thought that was reserved until a woman has given you children?"

He shrugged without a care. "You are my wife."

She wanted to argue further but his fingers had wandered to her hair, twirling around the soft locks slowly. He looked rather entranced as he admired the woman. She cleared her throat. "According to the law, this marriage is not legally binding yet."

"Yet. Not yet." He leaned over the backrest. "But if I recall right, I banished the law from our bed. The priests and lawmakers. Because you asked me to."

She shivered, leaning forward to escape the overwhelming feeling of him consuming her every thought.

Cregan twirled one last curl in his hand before letting it fall. He stepped around the desk to face her. "I'll have you stitched into the fabric within the fortnight. I don't need a child to prove that you're mine." He stretched. "I'm off to petitions. Tell me you'll miss me."

Her lips pulled up into a happy smile. "I cannot lie and say that I won't."

He accepted that. "It's almost beginning to sound like you love me."

She flushed. 

Rheanyra had never loved Laenor. Not… not like that. Alicent had never loved Viserys. Helaena and Aegon… Never was a political marriage as filled with admiration as this. It frightened her.

She had heard tales of men bedding mistresses, and wives with other men than their husband. It was normal in a sense to do so. But now, in front of Cregan, she couldn't imagine her soul surviving if Cregan loved another. And to cheat on him would be to cheat on everything she loves. Everything she l-

She loved him.

It hit her harshly. 

Her silence had confused Cregan. "Didn't mean much by it, Doe. Only jesting."

If only he knew her heart already belonged to him and him alone.

.............................................

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[citrusipop]

Pagtingin! . hyun-ju

" When I reveal my feelings I hope your opinion of me won't change When I confess my secrets I hope your opinion of me won't change " - patingin by ben&ben

in which . in which Hyun-ju comes back after the events of the game and she happens to bump into her partner who she left without an explanation.

cho hyun-ju x reader (fem) . angst/fluff

based off . ♡

Strolling through the busy streets, you stumbled upon your favorite café. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the comforting aroma of coffee and vanilla, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Sweet bossa nova music played softly in the background, blending with the gentle hum of conversations. It was the perfect day to settle down and work in the cozy atmosphere of the café. After ordering your usual coffee and sweet treats, you made your way to a nearby table by the window.

Taking your seat, you gazed out at the bustling street. Sure, it might seem cliché to some—a solitary figure at a window seat in a café—but to you, it was a small joy. The window wasn’t just a pane of glass; it was a lens into the endless stories unfolding outside. Watching strangers go about their lives, you found yourself imagining their worlds. Two girls walked past in school uniforms—you guessed they were high schoolers, maybe around fourteen or fifteen. Your eyes followed a middle-aged man pedaling his bike, his neatly pressed office attire suggesting he worked in accounting or something similar.

It fascinated you how everyone’s lives were so different from your own. Each person outside that window carried a story you’d never fully know, lives that were nothing like yours—boring, miserable, yet oddly peaceful and happy in their own way. And for a moment, watching them, you felt connected to something bigger, as though their differences somehow brought you closer to understanding your own quiet existence.

Your thoughts suddenly come to an end when you hear a group of people laughing next to you. You wish you had your earbuds with you to drown out the sounds but the gods were against you and made you forget to bring it. Wallowing in your sadness, you heard a familiar laugh coming from the table next to you and it made your mind race, turning to the table next to you…

It was her. For a moment, you froze, your breath hitching in your chest. Oh, how you wished this was a dream—because it certainly felt like one. A dream so vivid, so achingly beautiful, that the thought of waking up filled you with dread. But it wasn’t a dream. The world around you blurred and faded, leaving only her, like the central figure in a watercolor painting.

And then you heard it, her laughter. That soft, melodic sound you thought you’d forgotten but never truly could. It was like a gentle breeze carrying fragments of your past, filling you with a bittersweet ache. That laughter brought you back to a time when everything felt lighter, simpler, and whole. Nostalgia crashed into you, raw and unrelenting, pulling at the corners of your heart.

You wanted to move, to say something, but all you could do was sit there, drinking in the moment. That sound, that sight of her—it was a warmth you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. And for just an instant, you allowed yourself to believe that this wasn’t just a fleeting memory or a trick of your longing mind but something real, something you could hold onto, even if only for a little while.

You hadn’t realized how long your gaze had been fixed on her until you noticed she was looking back at you. Her almond-shaped brown eyes met yours, locking you in place. She gave you a smile like before, but your mind drifted to how beautiful and ethereal she looked as the sun from the window embraced her figure. Her hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, the soft simple makeup making her look beautiful. You felt like you were seeing an angel for the first time, you felt like you were seeing her for the first time. And it made her heart skip a beat. You noticed how she excused herself to her friends and she was now making her way towards your table, quickly you moved your laptop and notepad away, your fingers running through your hair as you fixed it and made it look more presentable. 

“Hi…” Hyun-ju said shyly, looking right at you with a soft smile, you looked up from your notepad and gave her a tight smile. Awkward silence filled the air as the tall woman stood still in front of your table, you took notice and felt bad. You motioned your hand to the empty chair in front of you indicating that she can take that seat. Another set of awkward silence filled the coffee shop, the tension was so thick you felt as if coming to this cafe was a mistake. 

“You look beautiful today.”

The words hung in the air, soft but sincere, making Hyun-ju pause. Her eyes flickered to you, but you avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the cup in your hands. Still, the familiar warmth spread through her chest. Hearing you call her beautiful always meant the world to her. It was a reminder that you saw her, loved her, just as she was. Yet, the pang of guilt was unavoidable. She had walked away without a word, leaving behind questions that she still couldn’t answer.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes caught the faint smile tugging at your lips, and something shifted. A flicker of hope sparked within her, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to mend what had been broken.

As if on cue, both of you started speaking at the same time, your voices overlapping awkwardly. You exchanged startled glances before bursting into quiet laughter, the sound breaking the tension between you. It was a silly, fleeting moment, but it carried a strange weight. For a second, it felt like you were teenagers again, stumbling through the nerves of a first date. Or perhaps it was just the awkwardness of two people who once knew each other so well, trying to find their footing again.

You stole another glance at Hyun-ju, and the sight of her hit you harder than you expected. The ache in your chest flared up, a sharp reminder of the emptiness her absence had left behind. No matter how much you had tried to fill that void, it had never worked. And now, sitting here with her, you couldn’t help but wonder if that missing piece had always been her.

But words refused to come. Your throat tightened, the lump there stubbornly blocking every thought, every feeling you wanted to voice. The two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down. Yet, in the quiet, there was something unbreakable—a connection that time and distance hadn’t erased.

You hear Hyun-ju clear her throat, you glance at her as she says, “I…I miss you, it’s been a while.” It made you smile a bit despite the hurt you were feeling inside, “I miss you too.” You said softly, as your thumb caresses the warm cup of coffee. You never felt this wave of emotions before, something so bittersweet. Sadness and hurt was evident on your face and Hyun-ju can clearly see it. 

Your teary eyes locked with hers. “Funny, isn’t it? It’s been five weeks. Five weeks since I last heard from you.” Your voice wavered, though you tried to mask it with a frown. “And now, here you are, showing up as if nothing happened.” The words came out colder than you intended, laced with the bitterness that had been festering in the void her absence left behind.

Hyun-ju stood frozen, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. What could she even say? Would you believe her if she told you the truth? That she had been kidnapped, thrust into a series of deadly games because of her debts and her desperation to complete her transition? That she had watched countless lives end in horrifying ways, the weight of survival pressing down on her with every passing second?

You noticed the flicker of conflict in her expression, and it only fueled your frustration. “Look,” you said sharply, “if you don’t want to deal with this—us—it’s fine. Just say it.” Your voice cracked, but before you could say more, Hyun-ju cut you off.

“Y/N.” Her voice was firm, but there was a tremor in it. “I never said I didn’t want this. Or that I wanted it to be over. You mean too much to me.” Her gaze dropped, her voice softening. “You… you wouldn’t understand. That’s the problem.”

“Understand what, Hyun-ju?” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. “You can’t just show up and expect me to be okay after you disappeared without a word. No call, no text, nothing. Five weeks, Hyun-ju. Five.” Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists, your voice growing harsher. “Do you know how hard I tried to find you? How much I worried? Don’t tell me I don’t understand when you’re not even telling me what I’m supposed to understand.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the fragile tension like a blade. You didn’t want to sound this harsh, but the hurt, confusion, and stress had built up too much to hold back. It wasn’t just the absence that hurt—it was the silence, the unanswered questions, the sense that she had left you in the dark without a second thought.

The tone of your voice cut through Hyun-ju’s heart more deeply than you could ever know. Her chest ached with guilt, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. She had thought leaving without a word was the right thing to do—a way to protect you from the chaos of her life. But now, facing the consequences, she realized how wrong she had been. Immature. Thoughtless.

“I just…” Her voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore… that I’d be a disgrace to you, the way I am to everyone else.” Her words were soft, almost as if she was afraid of saying them out loud, afraid of the weight they carried.

Hearing her broke something in you. You had been so consumed by your own pain, your own confusion, that you hadn’t stopped to see hers. In that moment, you realized it wasn’t just you who had been hurting. She had been carrying her own burden of fear and self-doubt, silently tearing herself apart. And now, her vulnerability was laid bare, raw and trembling in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, Y/N,” Hyun-ju whispered, her voice trembling. “You can’t be in a relationship with someone like me—”

Before she could finish, you reached out, gently taking her soft, larger hand in yours. “Stop,” you said firmly, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I don’t care, Hyun-ju. I don’t care about any of that.”

Your thumb gently traced small circles over her hand, grounding both of you in the moment. “I love you for who you are. Every part of you. To me, you’re perfect—the most beautiful woman in the world. And honestly, it amazes me every single day that you chose someone like me to be with you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you gave her a soft, heartfelt smile. It wasn’t just your words that spoke—it was the way you looked at her, as if she was the only person in the world who mattered. 

Hyun-ju let out a choked sob, gripping your hand tightly as if you might disappear. “I just… I thought that one day you’d wake up and realize you deserve someone better. That—That you’d see I’m not enough for you because I’m not perfect.” Her voice cracked as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. “This body… this body that I’ve fought so hard for, it’s still not enough. People look at me and see a lie, a joke. I thought maybe one day you’d see me the same way, and it would break me, Y/N. It would destroy me.”

Her words came in waves, each one laced with years of pain and fear. “You deserve someone who doesn’t have to fight to exist. Someone who doesn’t carry the kind of baggage I do. I’ve seen the way people stare at us when we’re together. The way they judge you just for loving me. And I thought… maybe you’d get tired of it. Of me. Of always having to defend me, to fight for me. I thought you’d leave, and I didn’t think I’d survive it.”

Her voice grew softer, trembling as she continued. “You have no idea what it’s like… to constantly wonder if the people who love you will stop when they finally see you for who you really are.”

The raw vulnerability in her words cut through you like a knife. God, it pained you to see her like this. Without hesitation, you rose from your seat and moved to her side. Kneeling down, you gently placed your fingers under her chin, lifting her face so she could meet your gaze.

“Oh, love,” you murmured, your voice soft yet steady. “I will never, ever leave you. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” You brushed away the tears streaming down her face, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You are enough, Hyun-ju. You’re more than enough. You’re the bravest woman I know. You’ve fought battles most people couldn’t even imagine, and you’ve come out stronger every time.”

You gave her a soft smile, hoping it could reach the cracks in her heart. “You’re my Hyun-ju. The one who fills my life with warmth and love. The one who makes those incredible meals so I don’t have to spend a dime eating out. And the one who makes me laugh when I don’t even think I can smile.”

Your thumb stroked her cheek as you looked into her tear-filled eyes. “I don’t care what the world thinks, or what anyone says. I see you, Hyun-ju. I love you. Every single part of you. And nothing, nothing will ever change that.”

In that moment, you weren’t just offering her words—you were offering her a piece of your soul, a promise that no matter what storms came your way, you would face them together.

“I love you, Hyun-ju. All of you. Your body, your personality—everything. I love you,” you whispered, your voice steady and filled with sincerity.

You leaned in slowly, giving her a moment to meet you halfway. As your lips met hers, the kiss was tender, a gentle melding of emotions rather than just a physical gesture. It was soft but full of meaning, as if you were pouring all the love, reassurance, and devotion you felt into that single moment.

Her lips trembled against yours, and you could feel the faint taste of salt from her tears, but neither of you pulled away. Instead, you cupped her face with both hands, your thumbs brushing away the wet trails on her cheeks. She responded hesitantly at first, as though afraid to believe this was real, but then her hands found their way to your arms, holding onto you as though grounding herself in your presence.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, her breath mingling with yours. “You’re my everything, Hyun-ju,” you said softly, gazing into her tearful eyes. “Always.”

“I love you too.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “How about I buy you that favorite dessert of yours?” you offered, your voice light and filled with affection.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a reassuring squeeze before flashing her a smile—one of those rare, genuine smiles that you saved just for her. It was the kind of smile that spoke volumes, one that told her she was cherished, loved, and safe with you.

As you walked out of the café, your gaze lingered on Hyun-ju, unable to help but admire her once more. You silently thanked the gods for blessing you with such a wonderful partner, vowing to do anything for her.

a/n . i told myself I was going to make a part two of mesmerized but I honestly got kind of lazy...and this prompt I could not stop thinking about it. This is my first time writing angst since i'm more of a writer who loves writing tooth rottening fluff....LOL

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (2)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: After the events of PART ONE, Robin goes shoe shopping; Steve's mental health is in shambles; Nancy is trying to save her relationship; you're feeling lost; and Eddie is trying to be the bigger person.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

A/N: Thank you all so so much for all the love you have been showing to part one. You all had me so motivated to write this next part for you. I never manage to get things written this quickly, it's insane. So much appreciation to you all who took the time to read and let me know how you liked it- the comments and reblogs mean so much to me! Thank you!

Please let know who you think our girl should end up with ;)

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

You didn’t ever think about a future in which you didn’t feel the way you felt about Steve. It was something that you always viewed as this absolute truth. It was unavoidable. The sun would rise and fall and you would love Steve Harrington. But now, the world feels like it’s crashed, burned and raised from the ashes. A new reality- a new future to be written. Maybe, just maybe, you would see a future for yourself without Steve. It was such a simple thought- but you couldn’t have seen it before.

While you’re coming to terms with your new reality that Eddie tore open with both hands, Steve feels the weight of the crash all around him. It’s everywhere, more specifically, you’re everywhere. He felt like he’s lost everything. In her reconciliation with Jonathan, Nancy pulled Steve aside that night and said she thought it best if they don’t hang out for awhile. He nodded, jaw tightened, but he understood. 

Eddie isn’t not talking to him, but there’s awkward tension in the apartment. They both pretend that it isn’t there but the air is thick with it. The proverbial beans have been spillt. Eddie’s in love with you, and Steve shouldn’t care about it as much as he does. Eddie goes about his days padding around the house. He’ll strum guitar and clean the kitchen and go on like nothing happened. Steve’s been avoiding him, not knowing at all what to say. There isn’t anything to say- not really. But still, the walls between them are undeniably there. 

Robin is all Steve has to confide in right now, telling her all about how he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past few weeks since the night of what they’ve been calling “the incident.” He tells her everything- his confusion in his feelings towards you, the way he misses his friendship with Nancy, his irrational harbouring resentment toward Eddie. He tells her all of it. She listens and doesn’t judge- well, maybe she does judge. But, it’s coming from a place of love! 

“What do you think?” she asks, stomping around in circles. She looks down at the new Adidas on her feet, thinking about how dirty the white sneakers are going to get almost immediately. Steve is sitting on the little bench in the shoe store with his head in his hands. “I hate them,” she complains, “I hate new shoes. I hate buying jeans. It all sucks.”

Like a parent would, Steve leans down and presses his fingertips down on the toe of the shoe. “These are too small,” he points out. He turns to the box at his side, handing her the next size up. “These will probably feel better.” She snatches the show from his hand, kicking off the pair she’s wearing. 

“Fucking Munson,” she scoffs. “New fucking shoes,” she mutters, bending over to slide the next pair on. Steve smirks to himself when he sees the relief wash over Robin’s face. It’s the undeniable look of pure comfort. “Oh,” she says shyly, “these feel really nice.” 

“What am I gonna do?” he asks, disheartened looking up at Robin. She sighs, pushing the empty box next to him on the floor so she can take its place. 

“What do you want?” she asks, “Do you actually like her?”

“I might,” he admits, “I don’t know! I haven’t thought about her that way before. I could see it, maybe.”

“I don’t think you should do anything,” Robin advises, “Just sort out all the shit in your head. You are only just beginning to let yourself get over Nancy- jumping into a mess between your best friends is not the thing to do right now. Sort yourself out- get some Vitamin D, eat a vegetable- do something besides sit in your room and sulk.” 

“I’m here now,” he tries to argue and Robin scoffs. 

“You’re here cause you ran out of excuses when you kept cancelling on me,” Robin points out. She looks at her feet one more time. She then looks to Steve with a look of absolute utter defeat. “I think I’m gonna get these.” She gets up and kicks them off. Steve watches as she puts them back in the box. “I’m not gonna wear them around Eddie though,” she says with a scoff, heading towards the register like she got the one up on him. 

Eddie remembers the first time he saw you. He’d been reflecting back on it a lot the past few weeks after everything that has happened. He’s having trouble wrapping his head around how he got from there to here. What was a innocent high school crush has blossomed into such an intense love that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The feeling is almost too big for him to carry- which is probably the reason for his outburst that night. 

It has been Eddie’s junior year, making it your sophomore year. You’d been in the drama club and occasionally rehearsal would run late- meaning Hellfire would start late since they used the Theater room as well. Usually, Drama Club rehearsed Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday- making the room available for Hellfire on Friday. However, as productions got closer to the opening night, theater kids and band geeks would end up flocking to the room for Hell Week- extra rehearsals, last minute set adjustments, all running out the clock to the big night. It would run into Fridays, pushing Hellfire back despite Eddie reserving the room. The one thing he actually did to follow the rules. 

You felt ridiculous in your costume. Your Juliet dress had you sticking out when you weren’t in the midst of the sets and reciting your lines. The long fabrics of the Renaissance inspired costume followed behind you as you darted from one side of the school to the other. You needed last minute fixes to the hem of your dress and the veil of your head crown. You only a few minutes before you were expected at rehearsal, left with no choice to run from the home ec classroom to the theater. 

Eddie and the rest of Hellfire stood begrudgingly behind the stage, too stubborn to find another location for their meeting. He swears that you ran by him in slow motion to make your cue. Like a runaway bride from his fantasy novels, it was like you were plucked from one of his fantasies and graced his world with your presence. He was enamored. You looked exactly like a princess. He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Gareth had elbowed him to snap him out of it. He knew from that moment when he looks back, he was in love with you. He rubbed his ribs where he was struck and stayed hidden backstage to watch the whole performance. 

Steve can’t even remember the first time you met. You were something that was always there, and something he’s realized now that he’s taken for granted. You remember, you remember it all. It was still so vivid to you. It was a start to your everything. 

Kindergarten was an overwhelming experience for Steve. Specifically drop-off, but he doesn’t remember now. You remember waiting with your mom and you held her hand tightly, while you waited for your teacher to escort you and your new classmates into school. You noticed Steve, across the play yard, but your head tilted in confusion that he was without a grown-up to send him off. 

You immediately shook yourself free from your moms embrace and skipped confidently over to the little boy. 

“Do you wanna be best friends?” You asked abruptly, it was all you needed. The simplicity of making friends when your six is a beautiful thing. He nodded, and you took his hand in yours so he didn’t walk in alone. The two of you were inseparable ever since. Until high school rolled around and changed everything. 

The Steve you knew was different than the Steve that ruled the halls of Hawkins High back in the day. When it was the two of you, it was like how it always was. But at school, it was like he was an entirely new person. Reinvented and repackaged, King Steve’s reign was legend. Had it not killed you a little inside, you’d have been impressed. 

Nancy offered to get lunch together with you shortly after the incident. She valued your friendship and wanted to clear the air. You felt the same. Your feelings towards Steve never hindered how highly you thought of Nancy. The two of you became friends amidst the era of King Steve, shortly before they began dating. 

“I wanted you to know that had I known,” Nancy says, stirring the milk in her coffee, “I would have never went out with Steve.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty, Nance,” you reassure her. “You liked him and he liked you back, of course you guys should have dated. I don’t resent that- I just… I don’t know.” 

“I don’t want this to affect us,” she reiterates.

“It won’t, it hasn’t- honestly,” you reply sincerely. “I never hated you. I can’t lie and say I wasn’t very jealous- because I was, still am a little maybe. It wasn’t because of you- it was just because it wasn’t me.” 

“I understand,” she comforts you. You both share a smile and you appreciate her for coordinating this sit down. It felt good to confide in her. It was something you shouldn’t have bottled up and dealt with alone. Talking with Nancy felt like taking breaths of fresh air. 

You’d walked home after lunch, declining Nancy’s offer for a ride. The cafe was close enough to your and Robin’s apartment that you could manage without getting too cold. Trudging up the front steps, you had your hood up to keep yourself warmer. It also hindered your vision so you didn’t see the figure on the front porch swing until you were right at your front door. 

“Steve?” You ask, taken aback. You didn’t expect to see him- though you supposed he’d be wanting to talk about it all eventually. You sigh, bracing yourself for the one conversation you absolutely did not want to have. 

“Hey,” he shivers, keeping his hands bunched into his jacket plackets. 

“Come on up,” you offer, unlocking your front door. He graciously accepts, darting in out of the cold as fast as possible. He had to have been waiting awhile. “Robin is at work right now, but you can wait for her,” you say, as you both make it to the top of the stairs to your third floor apartment. 

“I came to see you, actually,” he admits. 

“I was afraid of that,” you joke, and it makes you a little happy when he chuckles. You both know how hard this conversation is going to be. 

You both shrug off your warm layers and leave them in the entry way. You kick off your boots and shove your hat and gloves into the sleeve of your jacket. You try your best to tame your hair. You walk with your arms crossed and take a seat on your couch. Steve tentatively follows and sits on the opposite end. You both sit in uncomfortable silence for what felt like ages. 

“How long?” He finally asks, and you can’t help but cringe. It felt so impersonal, and like a subtle attack. Like you were in the wrong for keeping something from him. He sounds hurt. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, your face in your hands. “Probably at least since we were in like second grade, maybe.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he questions, and you feel dejected. 

“I don’t know- maybe cause you dated someone new constantly,” you accuse, flipping it back to him. You weren’t going to take the blame for this. “When we got to high school, you pursued so many girls- you were on a date every weekend! When did you expect me to say when you showed interest in literally everyone but me? Do you expect me to say I should’ve said something when you were with Nancy?” 

“No… shit, I don’t know,” he mumbles. He had no right to be upset, you resolved. “I just, I feel bad that you didn’t think you could tell me.” 

“I couldn’t risk losing you,” you admitted. “I’d much rather be heartbroken with you in my life than heartbroken without you.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he’s not sure why he’s suddenly so quiet. “I just- fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

You both sit there, quietly, looking anywhere except each other. You bite the inside of your mouth nervously, you don’t know what to say. You notice he’s not saying I was so stupid. I love you, I always have. You’ve learned the hard way by now to not expect that from him. You can’t let your expectations of him dictate the future of your friendship. 

“It’s okay, you know,” you finally say across the silence. “I don’t want you to think this changes anything.” 

This changes everything! He wants to exclaim. You’re right there, closer than you’ve been in weeks. Yet you still feel so far away, so unattainable. He feels as though you’re treating him like a stranger, and he hates feeling like this. 

“I’m not in love with Nancy,” he confesses. “I thought it was what I wanted, but now I don’t know what I want.” 

“Don’t give me false hope to make me feel better, Steve,” you sigh. “That’s not fair.” 

Robin bursts through the door in a whirlwind of chaos. She’s shedding her layers as she recounts a terrible interaction she had with a customer at work. She kicks off her Adidas, not bothering to put them in the shoe rack and she lets her jacket lay on the floor for now. 

“Anyways, this guy starts yelling at me because he didn’t like Risky Business like I wrote and starred in the damn thing so I’m like ‘Sir, I didn’t make the movie’  and then he gets he gets even more pissed that won’t give him a free rental. I can’t do that! What makes him think I can just wave a magic wand a pull a perk like that out of my- oh fuck. H-hey Steve…. I didn’t know you were here.” 

He stands up abruptly, “I was just leaving.” Before either you or Robin have a chance to say anything else. He’s stumbling over putting on his shoes and falling into his jacket on the his way quickly out the door. 

“What the hell was that?” Robin asks, turning to you. 

“I have no idea.” You say earnestly. 

“He’s so fucking stupid I swear to god,” she rolls her eyes and heads past you into the kitchen. She decided to keep her commentary at that. You escape to your room so you can process what the hell just happened. 

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Steve hits his palms against his steering wheel in frustration. “SHIT!” 

He completely fucked that up. 

When you had a problem of this measure that bothered you, you’d call Steve. Or, you’d call Eddie. Neither option is one you felt was viable right now. You didn’t want to annoy Robin with it anymore than you’d had already- you’re sure she’s sick of everyone going to her. You have a bad habit of assuming you’re a burden when your anxiety spikes like this. 

“Hey, Nance. I, uh, was just calling to-“

“Steve, please- we talked about this.” 

He knew this was going to happen. But he couldn’t stop himself as he dialed her number. He knew he was supposed to stay away and give her and Jonathan space. How is he supposed to move on when he lost the one person he could call to talk about this? Steve felt Nancy understood him better than anyone- or at least at one point she did. 

She hangs up before Steve gets a chance to say anything. He drops the receiver back onto the base. He lays back on the couch and takes some slow breaths. He can’t imagine that you all ended up here. After everything you all survived, this is what’s pulling you all apart. 

Why the fuck did he call Nancy? Deep down he knows he wants to just talk to you but he just can’t right now. His brain is too congested with everything that’s come to light and it’s all such a scary, unfamiliar plane. Nancy is his familiar- it’s what he knows. He’s realizing maybe he didn’t actually pine for Nancy but instead he was yearning for that stability he once felt. He’s mourning the time for when it felt like he had absolutely everything. 

It hits him all at once- like a huge wave that knocks you out when you’re bracing yourself to jump. He wanted it all back- fucking King Steve. Not the parties and the fucking assholes. He wanted to feel that way again. He wanted how he felt when he had a girlfriend who loved him and close friends he could walk the halls with. He missed when his life felt easy and he missed how easy it feels now compared to this. He wanted his life back- it wasn’t Nancy that he wanted- not really. He wanted to feel that way again and he was mourning his youth despite the imperfections. 

He thought of you again, as he turned his body to stare at the phone. He knows he should call, and do his best to make you feel better. He needed you to understand that he understands so much more now than he did. The bigger picture is revealing itself more to him and he actually fucking gets it. Out of everything that has changed, you never did. It all feels so painfully obvious now. How could he have not seen it? 

“Sup, man,” Eddie says casually, coming home from work. Taking off his jacket reveals that his coveralls are covered in a huge grease stain. Kicking off his work boots, he doesn’t wait for Steve to reply as he heads to the bathroom to shower. “You wanna get Chinese tonight?” he calls from the other room. Steve gulps and sits up, trying to shake himself out of it. 

“Uh, yeah, sure.”  

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from the bathroom and steam from his shower wafts out into the hallway. 

“We’re good, right?” Eddie asks. He wants to say yes. Eddie did nothing wrong and Steve deep down knows it. He knows his resentment he’s harbouring is completely unfair- but it is running down to his core. 

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Steve says, trying his best to fake it. They aren’t good. Steve doesn’t know if they’d ever be good. Eddie knows it too. He knows Steve too well to know that he isn’t actually good. Eddie doesn’t fight it.

“I’ll get over it,” Eddie said. “Well, that’s a fucking lie. But, I can tell myself I can get over it.” Steve looks at him, confused. “If you and her want to be together, if you like her back- I’ll step down.”

“Why are you even saying that?”

“Because I want her to be happy more than anything else, and if I’m not that guy- I’m just getting in the way of that,” he confesses, and Steve can hear the hurt in his friend’s voice. “If you actually want to go for it- I’m not what’s stopping you, man.” 

The phone breaks through the solemn moment the two of them share. Eddie looks to Steve and Steve shrugs before picking up the receiver. 

“Hello?” He says, and he smiles to himself as he recognizes the voice on the other end. Then, Eddie watches as his friend’s face falls again- all in a brief few seconds. “It’s for you,” he says, dropping the receiver on the table for Eddie to get. Steve disappears down the hall and seeks refuge in his room.

“Hey,” Eddie says, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, it’s me,” he hears you say. Suddenly, Steve’s reaction makes a lot of sense. 

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 054 - Lovesick! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Isekaing to the world of your favourite protagonist, but nothing is ever a coincidence. ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[tw: Manipulation, Murder, Death, Yandere depictions, Implied assault but not executed, a darker Jinwoo overall. Also Kyunnie lowkey rambling ....]‼️

╰┈➤ ❝ [ He Would Find You No Matter How Long It Takes, And Once He Has You In His Arms— You're Never Leaving] ¡! ❞

You died from an accident in the streets, well, not really an accident. Some drunk bastard was stumbling across the desolate street you normally take to go home— But poor you as that faithful meeting lead to your murder.

The paramedics tried everything they could to save you, but alas, you were dead on arrival.

That's what you suspect atleast. After losing so much blood from the multiple stab wounds of course that would be your death.

Dying was such a cold, cold feeling. It felt terrible. But what were your last thoughts?

You only thought of a single person only: Sung Jinwoo, the protagonist that you were madly in love with.

That man died three times or more if you count regression as a form of death. You thought of what he must have felt in his first death was similar to yours. How his feeble body sprawled on the altar with his leg cut off and his arm mostly torn off— It must have been terrible for Jinwoo.

Back then, you can only speculate. But now? Now you knew what he felt as he dies.

The only regret you have was not finishing the manhwa for the fifth time of the week.

But then you suddenly shot up, and when you did, you were met with a kind smile from a nurse, telling you that you passed out while doing a raid in an E-ranked gate from overexhaustion.

E-rank? Gate? What?

You were livid, feeling absolutely dizzy as you tried to ask the nurse. So you feigned temporary memory loss and asked the nurse what happened and why you're here.

As she had said, you passed out from raiding an E-ranked gate because of fatigue. You yourself, are a hunter, an E-ranked one.

The laughable rank your beloved once had.

You tried to wrap your head around it, tried to make sense of it all that you must be in purgatory, that this was all an illusion after death and the gods just had mercy on you and granted you your truest wish.

You tried to sleep it off, tried to bang your head to get you out of this illusion. But everything was real. You did normal human activities, and every pinch of a needle pricked onto your skin hurt like the way it did when you were alive.

You are alive

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh, you were in a world similar to Jinwoo's.

Jinwoo?

"Hello, are you alright?" A kind voice asks you out of nowhere, pulling you out of your daze. "Ah, I thought you passed out while awake!"

A boyish almost childlike face, pretty and cute with unkept fluffy hair that has grown too much and has a weird sort of mushroom-like appearance. Wide, innocent, puppy-like grey eyes full of wonder and life.

You knew that color of grey, that lovely shade that has placed you in a complete rampage of obsession and love.

"I'm Jinwoo, nice to meet you" He stretches his hand out to you, offering a friendly shake.

You accept his hand, trembling as you do so but he doesn't seem to notice as he shakes your hand so kindly while you shakily state your name to him.

Calloused, his hands were calloused.

He then sits down on the empty spot beside you, chatting you up.

Your heart was pounding like crazy as you two talked, you were for sure about to pass out anytime from the overflowing euphoria filling you up.

You don't know how you survived the conversation. But somehow you did.

And Jinwoo himself even offered that you two should team up as E-ranked hunters.

Ecstatic, of course you were, you were so joyous you jumped in bed and rolled around like a madman.

Jinwoo was here. Your Jinwoo.

Your Jinwoo before his ascension as a monarch, your Jinwoo that is still childish and soft.

You loved teaming up with him.

But something was weird.

Already, he had exceptional knife skills, his expertise with using a dagger was too good. Too uncharacteristic of the Jinwoo you know in his earliest days. Is his puberty coming a bit too early?...

That's just it,

,... Right?

Surely it is.

It's not weird that Jinwoo is extremely flexible and fast, that he is sharp and seemingly has such an advanced spatial awareness, that he easily cuts through the hard skins of various monsters.

...Really.

It's not weird at all.

꒰ .... ꒱

It's another hunting day where you accompany Jinwoo yet again in a raid. But this time he seemed a bit more guarded against the raid team you both had signed in for just to experience a higher ranked gate.

"Stay close to me, yeah?" Jinwoo leans down, smiling gently at you that made you forget the chilling expression he had just a second ago.

"S-sure?" You smile awkwardly, growing bashful at his distance.

Why is he a bit antsy anyway? The team you both signed up for isn't the Hwang.... Hwang dong.... Who?

The team of Hwang Dongsoo's brother? That bald headed bastard's family? Ah... You can't really recall his name.

Dead men don't matter anyway.

The only thing you really remember was how hot he was when he ultimately lost his mind momentarily and became absolutely ruthless.

To this you mourn the lack of psychotic Jinwoo in the manhwa.

Do they not see the potential?

This man has the temper and charisma to pull off a serial killer vibe.

So why not?

Why the hell not?!

"!!!"

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted when Jinwoo suddenly placed him in between you and the approaching hunter who had a displeased look on his face after what he did.

"I'm only trying to check on the little miss" The hunter smiles wryly, but Jinwoo was unmoving.

"Really now?" He remarks, his tone sneering even. "Does that involve you luring us into this isolated part of the dungeon with your team surrounding the exits? Sure."

"Ah you're no fun buddy!~" The hunter laughs, patting his shoulder to try and get Jinwoo to relax. "It's just us here, why not have a little fun? She's a pretty one."

Oh right.

Being a hunter is dangerous.

But what had always been dangerous in the first place?

Being a woman.

Ever since society recovered from the shock of the gates arriving— There is a significant uptake in death counts, crime rates, and missing people mia after entering a gate.

And what is the gender of 70% of those missing people?

Women.

If one wanted to do a crime, the best way to do it is in a gate. Rumours spread that disgusting fiends would lure women with a promise of a hefty sum by a small hunting group.

After that? All the women seemingly disappear.

And with the lack of a body and evidence to imply malpractice in the dungeons— What can the law do?

Nothing.

Dead corpses dont talk.

And as the hand reached out over Jinwoo's shoulder towards you—

It suddenly flew off with a swish

The severed limb took it's sweet time floating on the air before plopping on the floor with a wet splotch.

"...."

Everyones gazes were locked on the motionless hand on the floor before a bloody scream rang out from the C-ranked hunter.

"Y-you!" He sobs, gripping his empty wrist as it sheds a copious amount of blood. "I was nice to you by hiring you useless E-rankers and this is how you repay me?!"

He then turns to the rest of the members who were left frozen, "What the fuck are you bastards doing standing there? GET HIS FUCKING HEAD."

"It's always bastards like you who pull this kind of bullshit off" Jinwoo sighs, as if the whole situation right now is troublesome for him as a dagger materializes into his hand.

It was gleaming a mad crimson, as if the blade itself was made of a bloody moon's fragments.

Kamish's Wrath.

Daggers gifted to him by Thomas Andre as an apology for the trouble Hwang Dongsoo and the overall situation they were on. A symbol of peace between them and a sign of friendship between them.

He isn't supposed to be having those until later.

Unless The Jinwoo in front of you isn't the E-ranked Jinwoo who is slteadily climbing the levels at a rapid fast.

Jinwoo's blade seems like it's merely flying with how fast he is moving. Everytime he moves he just tilts his body a little for them to miss him narrowly.

And while everyone else is screaming in frustration, Jinwoo just throws them a sly smile, as if he is reveling in messing with them.

It was obvious he was teasing them, making them overly frustrated where they want to hit him but can't quite reach him at the way he expertly dodges them narrowly.

And when he's already bored of them?

He slices their limbs one by one and letting them bleed to death on the floor.

By the end of it Jinwoo is standing atop a pool of blood with crimson splatters sliding enticingly down his handsome features.

Whoever said Jinwoo isn't charming even in his baby-faced era must be blind.

Because even in the lack of his significant height, even when his cheeks are a bit chubbier, even if his eyes are a bit rounder and that his build is nothing more than bone and flesh— He has this haunting beauty to him that makes him look like a mischievous fae about to drag you into the abyss he calls his home.

"Do you understand now?" Jinwoo asks, his blank and empty grey eyes looking down on you as he lefts you cheek with his calloused hand. "Why I told you to quit being a hunter before?"

"I-I..." You sputter, unable to find the words from the shock of seeing your beloved murder people live in front of you.

"I'll get a rank evaluation after a month as soon as I fix this blasted body" He said, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're scared, aren't you? If I wasn't here, what could've happen to you?"

"....."

He's right.

What would've happen if Jinwoo isn't here? What would've happen if Jinwoo lets that man's hand go over to you?

The vision of it makes you falter, tears prickling your face as it slowly sunk in— That the only thing awaited you was unspeakable horrors had he not step in.

"Sssh..." He comforts you sweetly, pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. "You must have been scared, hm? I know, I know. I took care of it, didn't I? Don't be scared anymore."

You don't have to know the fact that he orchestrated all of this.

That Jinwoo himself is the reason why you died and was brought to this cursed world.

That he was well aware of what the hunters have been pulling off whenever they sign contracts with women.

He just wanted to scare you a little, really.

What better method can he do to make you reliant on him?

To make you extremely dependent on him and paranoid of him not being there?

The world of hunters is a cruel and unforgiving world.

He knows that himself.

Jinwoo isn't blind to any of the darker side of this path you both choose to thread on.

Except that right now his intention is to make you too scared of ever stepping into a gate.

That the thought of ever stepping into one makes you shiver into cold sweats and becoming sick at the mere thought of it.

And if this plan doesn't shake you enough?

Then he'll just do it again.

Shake you to the core, make you have a glimpse of hell and then swoop in the second he sees you frightened enough.

You'll be in his arms, weeping and completely afraid.

And he would drill it himself in your head:

You only need Jinwoo.

Just like right now, where you're too shaken to even process the fact the timeline is all wrong. That somehow the Jinwoo in front of you right now already has two hearts with the beat of two organs in his chest. One heart belongs to him, the other belongs to the late Ashborn who chose him as his heir.

Nothing is making sense right now, but you're stuck sobbing in his arms and seeking for solace and safety.

"We'll have to pretend to be hurt when we go out, hm?" Jinwoo lifts your face up with the palms of his warm hands, his expression hauntingly saintly despite the muddled color of grey in his lovely eyes. "Can you do that for me?"

You nod, sniffling, earning yourself a kiss on the forehead as a reward for your obedience.

"Good girl."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: What better way to start off my 2025 with a Lovesick Sung Jinwoo fic? Hahah, my beloved<3. No matter who I put into my extensive list of sweethearts Jinwoo will always be on top of everybody else! I love him it's unhealthy. I might make a lads post after this or a wholesome sylus fic that has been brewing in my mind for a bit? I wanna branch out more when it comes to my fics wwww!!! So aside from Hsr there will be the lads boys. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[yoonjae20]

Danny deeply distrusts the Justice League

Based on the wonderful @saltymarshmall0w 's prompt.

I really feel like they aren't enough fanfics or prompts where Danny dislikes the Justice League — and continues to dislike them even after everything (Anti-Ecto Acts) is revealed and taken care of. (Or maybe I'm not looking in the right places — if you guys have any recommendations put them in the Tags or Comments!)

Read on ao3. Masterpost

After many years Danny has finally retired — sure he had to leave everything he loved and that was familiar to him behind for it, but it was worth it. He had a small little house that was his own, he would water his plants every morning and make small talk with his neighbors. Everything was fine. 

Everything turns not so fine, when there’s a sudden knock on his door. Expecting it to be one of his neighbors — for example needing eggs or flour (a neighbor’s kid had needed eggs to bake one of her parents a cake and Danny had been more than willing to spare the few she needed) — he opens the door without a second thought.

Only to almost immediately want to close it again. 

Because that’s the Justice League standing in front of his door. And that can mean nothing good.

Before Danny can slam the door closed, Superman‘s shoe slides in between the door frame, blocking his escape. The smile the man shoots him is probably meant to be reassuring, but the only thing Danny feels is dread. 

To most civilians the Justice League is seen as a beacon of hope — but to Danny? He knows the bitter truth. When he needed them the most they turned his back on him before chasing him across half the globe calling him a villain without even hearing his side of the story. They handed him over the GIW for Ancient’s Sake. He would have died if it weren’t for Tucker and Sam. (He may not have scars to show for it but he can still feel his chest burn when he thinks back to it.) Not that they can remember that though. He still doesn’t trust them. 

“You are Danny Fenton, correct?” Superman asks and Danny stiffens. 

Fenton — not Nightingale like he has changed his surname into to escape his parents influence and leave everything behind. 

“Yes,” he says warily — seeing no point in lying. Considering Batman is lingering behind Superman the Detective would figure it out instantly. 

“And you used to be Amity’s Park’s vigilante Phantom?”

Danny grips the door frame, knuckles white. What’s their point? Are they trying to intimidate him?

“Yes,” he grits out. 

“We were told that you are the one we should seek out in matters involving Ghosts and the Infinite Realms,” Superman continues, but Danny doesn’t let him finish.

“I’m retired,” he interrupts. “Find someone else.”  

“There’s a world-ending event,” Superman says like that would convince Danny. Like Danny hadn’t lived though so many of them — had to prevent them from happening without anyone’s help every single time. Guilt-tripping much? “Even if you don’t want to fight — we need you as an advisor.”

Danny snorts, shaking his head. 

“Go take up the matter with the Justice League Dark then.” 

Danny moves to close the door, but still Superman’s foot doesn’t budge. He could probably brute-force his way through this — but Danny’s tired and he’s not in the mood to explain to his neighbors why his door is broken and he needs to do repairs.

He glares at them and to his surprise Superman actually takes a step back — but still not enough to be able to close the door. 

Danny hasn’t transformed into Phantom since he left Amity Park. Had kept that part of himself locked away — would have separated his Ghost Self from himself if he didn’t know he would be selfish for that. Had ignored his Obsession even if it screamed at him — had pushed it away in his Human Form even if it muted all the colors around him and it meant that every breath was a painful wheeze.

Faced with this situation he almost wants to break the promise he made to himself — but he can’t.

There is no GIW anymore —  Danny had made sure of that. He had wiped all of their files and his parents published research with the help of Technus. He had dismantled both portals to the Ghost Zone and made sure no one would be able to replicate it. But Danny also knows the Justice League — knows how much Superman’s punches hurt, how it feels to get mind controlled — they could overpower him in an instant if he twitched as much as into the wrong direction.  

He really doesn’t have a choice here, doesn’t he? If he doesn’t go out of his free will — they will force him with any means necessary, of that much he is sure. 

His gaze trails to his neighbor’s house and the swing in their backyard. And if they are right and he turns them away — is he sure he won’t feel any guilt if something happens that he could have prevented? Sometimes Danny really hates his Martyr Complex. 

Danny sighs, defeated.

“What do you need my help for?”

They had liked their new neighbor despite the fact that he barely left his house other than to water his plants. They had known that the young man was sickly. He looked like death wormed him over and was weak on his feet— his ice-blue eyes dull. His smile barely held any warmth in it.

Still they invited them over after he had given their daughter eggs to bake the cake for their birthday. They learned that he was kind and had escaped to their small village to live a quiet life. 

When the young man came to tell them that he would be out of town for a few days and to please water his plants if they could, they were worried.

“Are you sure that you are fine, son?” they asked and touched the man’s forehead — but it was icily cold like the rest of their skin had always been. “You look even paler than usual.”

The young man had only given them a half-hearted smile and affirmed them that he was fine

Their daughter's excited steps had hurried behind them and she tugged on their pants after the man had left. 

“Was that Uncle Danny?” the girl asked. “Can I play with him?”

They gave their daughter a weak smile. 

“Uncle Danny is busy for a few days,” they explained. “Later, okay? How about you draw him a picture while we wait for him to come back? So he has something to look forward to?” 

Their daughter nodded and raced back to the living room, searching for supplies, while they continued looking out of the window. They can’t help but have a bad feeling about this.  

It’s unnerving how quiet the young man is. 

There are no easy smiles, sassy quips and puns like from the few shaky phone videos they had pulled from the internet about Phantom. 

He’s meticulous. Probably even more than Batman — and that is a statement. There had been a deep mistrust in the eyes when they had located him and asked him to help them. It’s evident in every step he makes. He double-, even triple-checks every single evidence, every single sentence, every single word they say. 

Nothing is left unturned as he works the way though the situation like if he is dealing with a case. He never stops moving, always doing something — reading through heavy leather-bound books or through their reports. His heart rate is so slow that Clark sometimes wonders if the boy is still breathing at all. 

When the young man had asked them if they spoke to the leader regarding the war declaration and the reasons behind them, he had clicked his tongue when they told him no.

He hadn’t let anyone help him when he drew out the summoning cycle — it looked even more intricate and complicated than they had seen from Zatanna or Constantine. When he had spoken the words for the spell,  his words had sounded ancient and undescribable — hushed whispers following every single word. He clasped his hands and only opened his eyes when he spoke the last word, his eyes burning a deep green. 

The cycle goes up in green fire before a form appears — Clark recognizes the Ghost from the declaration. 

The man’s cold gaze sweeps over the Justice League before it stops on Phantom. He smirks, bowing his head slightly.

“I greet the Prince of the Infinite Realms.”

“Cut the crap Fright Knight,” Phantom's voice is steel-hard. “We both know I refused that position.”

The man tilts his head but nods.

“Very well,” he says. “I greet Phantom, savior of the Infinite Realms.”

Phantom grits his teeth like he wants to refuse that title too before he shakes his head. He gestures to the Justice League.

“Explain.”

“We are just paying back what has been done to us,” Fright Knight claims. “Vita brevis, ars longa, occasio praeceps, experimentum periculosum, iudicium difficile.”

“Life is short, art is long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult,” Diana translates for them. 

“I see the Daughter of the Queen of the Amazons knows her arts,” the man’s voice has a hint of mockery. “Humanum genus est avidum nimis auricularum. Ignorantia legis non excusat:”

Diana’s eyebrows knit together as she listens. 

“Mankind is too greedy for lies. Ignorance of the law does not excuse,” her voice is almost a whisper. 

“I would have thought you would know of this Phantom,” Fright Knight addresses the young man again. “But now seeing your state, you probably didn’t feel the call for the announcement either. Is there a reason why you are starving yourself?”

Phantom doesn’t meet any of their eyes as he answers.

“That is unimportant to this situation.”

Fright Knight’s lips twitch back into a grin. 

“If the savior of the Infinite Dreams claims so, then I have no choice but to accept it.” He turns back to the Justice League. “Si vis pacem, para bellum.”

“If you want peace, prepare for war.”

“When have we been ignorant?” Batman finally steps in. 

Fright Knight huffs out a dark laugh.

“When has mankind not been ignorant?” Fright Knight questions. “When your government captured my brethren and tortured them, where were you? When they declared us as non-sentient and staged war against us, where were you? When they threatened to destroy our home, where were you?”

The man’s eyes seem to burn as he repeats himself.

“Where were you?”

Clark and the rest of the League are shocked to silence. 

“Now that the danger has passed, why should we just forgive you? Why should we forget?” Fright Knight continues. “If we are not worthy enough to be counted towards mankind that means we just have to rewrite the rules. And since we were never given the chance to negotiate, that means by force.”

“The Meta-Protection Acts-” 

“Only count towards those that are alive.” Fright Knight interrupts Batman. “After all, how can the dead feel any emotions such as pain? I’m sure if you ask your government they will hand you a lot of pretty reports on the biased experiments that prove so.” 

“But that’s-” Clark starts but Fright Knight doesn’t let him finish.

“Despicable? When has that ever stopped mankind?” Fright Knight asks. “We can talk if there isn't a law that states that we can be eradicated without any consequences.”

Before either of them can stop him, Fright Knight swishes his cape made out of purple fire and disappears. Clark faintly asks himself if that is how other people feel when Batman does that in front of their noses. 

Seeing no other option the entire League turns back to Phantom who hasn’t said a single word since the Ghost went on his tirade.

“Phantom-” Batman tries, but the young man’s eyes burn with so much hate that the normally stoic man stocks in his words. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Phantom seethes. “You heard him. Now finally do your jobs right for once.”

Then he leaves the room without a single glance back.

Clark gulps as they look at each other.

“I feel like we made a mistake.”

When the news declares the Anti-Ecto Acts as abolished, Danny feels nothing but exhaustion. The Justice League barely managed to avoid a large-scale — and very justified war. 

Danny leans back tiredly on his sofa. His eyes trail to the drawing his neighbor’s daughter had given him and the first genuine smile in months graces his lips.

“What I don’t do for mankind,” he sighs before he closes his eyes. 

[sematarygirls]

GONE  GIRL.                             masterlist

if you know the whereabouts of this person, please call 911 or contact the kildare county sheriff's department at 252-290-6688

       NAV ! Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

  Community in Shock: Teen Missing in Kildare County

Boyfriend Named Person of Interest

Police and civillian search parties alike are continuing their hunt for missing teenager Y/N L/N. The girl was last seen leaving her job at the country club on July 22nd at approximately 5:30 p.m. with her boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, who has already been questioned by the police but refused to provide comment on the investigation when asked.

She was last seen wearing her work uniform: a white button-down shirt with the name of the private establishment—"The Island Club"—embroidered in gold, a black tennis skirt, a pair of disheveled converse, an "R" pendant necklace, and a diamond tennis bracelet.

"We are doing everything we can to find her," said the sheriff of the Kildare County Police Department, Susan Peterkin, when pressed for comment. "It is unclear at this time whether foul play was involved, but we are exploring all possibilities and exhausting every lead."

She also urged that anyone with any information regarding the possible whereabouts of Y/N contact the sheriff's department immediately at their official number 252-290-6688 or via the anonymous tip line.

Y/N L/N resides at 313 Lakeshore Drive in a small home that was described best as "neglected." Y/N's father refused to speak on the topic, but a neighbor shared that he and the teen allegedly had a strained relationship, the police having been called on multiple occasions for domestic disturbances. In fact, multiple neighbors expressed concern for the teen's well-being in the days and weeks leading up to her disappearance.

"Y/N had it rough at home. Those two were always going at it, fighting like cats and dogs. I can't tell you how many times the cops came knocking at my door asking about that family," the neighbor, who requested anonymity, reported. "I don't know why the cops didn't take that girl out of that house. I mean, her dad aside, just look at it! That place is one strong gust of wind from toppling over!"

Neighbors weren't the only ones with concerns about the girl. Her friends also provided comment on the situation.

"Y/N and Rafe were always together, but there were times where she seemed distant around him, like she didn't want to be there—and I don't blame her to be honest," one of Y/N's close friends, Kiara Carerra, told us when asked for comment. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did something to her. I mean, obviously, I hope nothing happened to her, but yknow..."

Another friend of Y/N and fellow pogue, JJ Maybank, also wanted to say some words. "Y/N was one of us, yknow," JJ said. "I don't know exactly what happened, but I know she would never just take off without telling us, telling me." JJ was visibly shaken while speaking about her, and when asked about the possibility of foul play being involved, he had this to say: "I don't trust him. I never have. He's a kook, one of the worst of them too. All he cares about is himself."

JJ Maybank was going to say more, but his best friend sitting nearby, John B. Routledge, cut him off. "We all just really hope this isn't as bad as it looks. We all want Y/N to come home alright."

Rafe's status as a Kook, his family affluent and prominent in the community, fueled further speculation about the relationship's dynamics as Y/N was from The Cut, the working class side of the island, and she worked multiple jobs, the two lovers from completely different worlds.

However, Rafe's father and influential real estate developer, Ward Cameron, was quick to comment on rumors of their rocky relationship and his son's potential involvement. "All of these rumors are incredibly harmful to not only our family but also the investigation. Our family is cooperating with the police as much as we can. We all want to see that young lady come home safe."

As the investigation continues and the police remain tight-lipped about the situation, residents of Kildare County are left with more questions than answers, and the community is left grappling with uncertainty and fear.

The whole island prays for Y/N to come home safe and sound, but as each hour passes, the time ticking farther and farther from when she vanished, the atmosphere grows tenser as we begin to wonder if we will get any answers as to what happened that day at all.

notes .ᐟ woah, new chapter 😏 how we feeling...

taglist .ᐟ @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @bradshawed / @fallbhind / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif / @fakedhearts / @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 / @riaras-everthroner / @memoirofasparklemuff1n / @rafeysangelbaby / @starkeying / @stayonmars / @mileyraes / @davinashifts333 / @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account / @or-was-it-just-a-dream / @elvislover1967 /

                                ୭ৎ

[vicsstufff]

PROLOGUE — no exceptions.

warnings: when the characters talk in any other language, you would know when the words are like this: “hello! who are you doing?”, language, smoking, camila’s dad is kinda abusive.

paring: hopkings!p.bueckers x exchange student!oc

BTS masterlist

authors note: hello everyone! this is the prologue of my first series “Behind The Screen” i’m so excited to write this and i’m constantly reading fics to motivate me and learn more. i didn’t plan that much of angst for this series but i will definitely add more than planned.

the harsh crash of the waves, the pure smell of the ocean mixed with the food from the near restaurants was addictive. this was the life that camila had her entire life, she wouldn’t give it up from nothing. “are you still going to your last year of high school?” miranda, her friend questioned her not taking her eyes of the little waves that made their way to their feet, cleaning the sand that piled up during their walk. “of course i am. where else would i go?” camila assured her, a comforting smile creeping its way in her face, miranda took her eyes of her feet and stared at the distance. “are you that sure? i heard your parents talking to the principal.” miranda took a shaky breath before continuing “they are sending you away, camila.” the smile that build up its way to camilas face quickly disappeared once miranda did her confession.

camila grabbed her dirty sandals and started sprinting towards her house. the streets were busy, summer was right around the corner and that meant one thing, tourists, camila wasn’t bother by the tourists, she actually liked them, she helps the ones that look lost or the ones that are one foot away from completely passing out because of the penetrating sun. thanks to an old lady, she even learned to speak english and a little bit of spanish too, making it more easy to speak with other tourist.

she unlocked the main door to her house, getting inside quickly, mumbling could be heard from her parents room, not to far from her own room. silently, she walked to her parents room, pressing her ear to the locked door to hear properly.

“why would we send her away!?” her mom shouted, she could hear the way that she was breaking everything that was in her eyesight “come on, woman, she doesn’t needs us anymore and we don’t need her anymore! she is almost a grown adult! she will be okay!” her father remarked her age again, she didn’t know what was wrong with her father and him being obsessed with young woman, before her 17 birthday, camila’s father was a perfect father, he bought her gifts, clothes, hair products, shoes anything you could imagine, but when her 17 birthday rolled over, he stopped being sweet to her, he didn’t care for her anymore, instead, he started focusing on her little sister, helena who was barely 15, the exact same thing happened to her mother, she know all the atrocities her father did to her.

“minnesota? really carlos? that shit is so far away!” her mother argued, minnesota? definitely it was not even near brazil or even located in brazil, maybe it was a city or a very small country? “she will be fine! she is even going to have another family” her father added, she couldn’t bring herself together and hear more than she needed to, her eyes locked with her bedroom door, she didn’t bring her phone to the beach so she would have a thousand of messages if anybody knew she was going to be exchanged.

cam

they r sending me away

p

what??

were??

cam

some place called minnesota

p

dude, omg

that’s were i live

no way

cam

seriously??

ur telling me that it’s in the usa??

p

yeahhhh

omg

please tell me ur coming to hopkins

we could finally meet

before camila could respond to her friend, her father entered her room abruptly, not even caring to knock. “hey, um, we need to talk.” her father mumbled, he was clearly nervous, but he wasn’t nervous when he was arguing with her mother. “i’m sorry, baby, you are going to study in another place.” her mother interrupted her father and hugged her tightly, her worst fears were begging to become true. she didn’t wanted to be separated from her family, neither her friends. “stop babying her!” her father barked, grabbing his wife shoulder and lunched her making her land in the middle of camila’s room. “look, you are very good academically and they offered us to exchange you for another student. it’s only going to be one year.” her father explained but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her broken mother, her own father had destroyed her mother, he had successfully sent her away to an unknown place she obviously didn’t know, who is going to take care of helena? her mother couldn’t possibly, she was very bad emotionally, and her father didn’t believe in therapist.

camila could sense her sisters presence in the room, she looked at her doorframe, helena was there, in shock, she had seen and heard everything. her bottom lip was shaky and she gripped the doorknob tightly.

the plane she was going to take was leaving until july, even though school started in august, she knew it was her fathers plan to get rid of her faster. for the past days she couldn’t stop texting ‘p’ the unknown girl made her feel safe, every text was filled with comforting words, it made her a little exited to visit a new place but she didn’t want to admit it.

her father made her do a face time with her host family, they were very sweet, so caring, they even had a beautiful schnauzer dog, she was called monica. her prayers were heard, she was going to hopkins, minnesota, ‘p’ started talking about herself more, she had figured out that she was in the women’s basketball team, she had blonde hair and blue eyes, and couldn’t stop saying that she was definitely taller than camila.

the nights were shorter when talking to ‘p’, their conversations never ending, ‘p’ would text her even if she was in class, or in practice, it made camila’s stomach flutter, knowing that someone took their to time to talk to her, even if they were busy. she was very excited to meet ‘p’ friends too, almost all of them were from the basketball team. p started planning dates hangouts, going for a milkshake, ice cream, eating pure junk food, going to see her play, watching the stars, you named it. camila was so excited to met her, but also nervous, what if she doesn’t meet her standards? what if she expects camila to be more beautiful? camila shook those thoughts away quickly, texting p to assure her that everything will be fine.

cam

what do u think i look like

p

i have been waiting for this

curly hair (obv), little bit tanned, maybe green eyes? definitely smaller than me, freckles and a natural blush

cam

wtf

how do u how i look like

p

u r definitely fine then

camila didn’t want to admit it, but she was definitely falling for this called ‘p’.

[viaxslz]

﹙ ♡` 𓈃 BASEBALL 𓏵⠀

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 f!reader (I think), cw: established relationship, y/n is kinda dense abt baseball,help seungmin, pet name, they kiss like two times, they’re just so lovey dovey in love, not proofread :P, requested, was meant for the 100 event, 2.1k WC

Request: I was thinking a Seungmin fluff just about spending the day at a baseball game together, but the reader lowkey knows nothing about baseball, so he has to explain little things to her during the game, and by the end, she starts to love it as much as he does.

VIA: I have one more request which was meant for the 100 followers event which I cancelled bc (you see the reason right now) so after these, this might be the only time I’ll do request, for the person who requested so sorry it took about hundred years (I’ve had this request since September 💀😭)

Seungmin and Y/N walked hand in hand to the baseball stadium, the warm sun shining down on them. Seungmin was practically bouncing with excitement, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

"I'm so glad we're doing this," he said, squeezing Y/N's hand. "I've been waiting all week for the game."

Y/N smiled and leaned into him. "I'm happy to spend the day with you," she said. "But I have to admit, I don't really get baseball."

Seungmin's face lit up with a grin. "That's okay," he said. "I'll teach you everything you need to know. By the end of the game, you'll be a baseball expert."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "We'll see about that," she teased.

As they found their seats and settled in for the game, Seungmin began to explain the basics of baseball to Y/N. He told her about the different positions, the rules of the game, and the strategies involved.

Y/N listened intently, asking questions and giggling at Seungmin's silly analogies. Seungmin was happy to oblige, enjoying the chance to share his passion with the person he loved.

As the game began, Seungmin and Y/N cheered and clapped along with the rest of the crowd. Y/N was still a bit lost, but Seungmin was always there to guide her, explaining what was happening on the field.

As the game began, Seungmin's excitement was palpable. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes fixed intently on the field.

"Okay, so the pitcher is winding up... and here comes the ball!" Seungmin exclaimed, his voice rising in excitement.

Y/N watched with a smile as Seungmin provided a play-by-play commentary of the game. He explained the different types of pitches, the strategies of the players, and the rules of the game.

At first, Y/N was a bit lost, but Seungmin's enthusiasm was infectious. She found herself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering along with Seungmin as the home team made a great play.

"Baby! Did you see that? The shortstop made an amazing catch!" Seungmin shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

Y/N laughed at Seungmin's antics, feeling happy to see him so carefree and joyful.

As the game continued, Seungmin's commentary became more and more animated. He jumped out of his seat to cheer, spilled popcorn on himself, and even did a little dance in the aisle.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle at Seungmin's silly behavior. She was having the time of her life, and it was all thanks to Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm.

As the game continued, Y/N turned to Seungmin with a curious expression. "Min, why do the players wear those funny pants?" she asked, giggling.

Seungmin chuckled and explained, "Those are baseball pants! They're designed to be comfortable and flexible, so the players can move around easily."

Y/N nodded, taking in the information. "Oh, okay. That makes sense. But why do they have those stripes on the sides?"

Seungmin grinned. "Those are just a design element. Some teams have stripes, while others have different patterns or logos."

Y/N smiled, feeling a bit more knowledgeable about the game. As the innings passed, she found herself getting more and more into the game. She cheered along with Seungmin, asked more questions, and even started to recognize some of the players.

Seungmin noticed Y/N's growing enthusiasm and smiled. "You're getting into it, aren't you?" he asked, nudging her playfully.

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yeah, I am! This is actually really fun."

Seungmin beamed with pride. "I told you it would be! Baseball is an amazing sport."

As the game neared its climax, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. She was having the time of her life, and it was all thanks to Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm.

As the game reached the middle innings, Seungmin and Y/N decided to take a break and grab some snacks. They walked to the concourse, hand in hand, and joined the line for the concession stand.

As they waited, Seungmin turned to Y/N and smiled. "I'm so glad you're enjoying the game," he said, his eyes shining with happiness.

Y/N smiled back, feeling a flutter in her chest. "I'm having a great time," she said. "Thanks for explaining everything to me."

Seungmin leaned in, his face inches from Y/N's. "Anytime," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

As they reached the front of the line, Seungmin ordered them a plate of nachos and a couple of drinks. They took their snacks and found a spot to sit, watching the game from a different angle.

As they sat there, Seungmin suddenly stood up and pulled Y/N into a romantic kiss. The crowd around them cheered, thinking it was a kiss cam moment, but Seungmin and Y/N didn't care. They were lost in their own little world.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Seungmin's lips touched hers. She felt a rush of excitement and happiness, knowing that this was a moment she would never forget.

As they pulled back from the kiss, Seungmin grinned at Y/N. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N's heart melted at his words. "I love you too," she replied, smiling up at him.

The rest of the game was a blur for Y/N. She was too busy basking in the glow of Seungmin's love to pay attention to the score. But she knew that this was a day she would always treasure, a day that would stay with her forever.

After the kiss, Seungmin and Y/N were both grinning from ear to ear. They decided to take a break from the game and explore the stadium.

They walked around the concourse, taking in the sights and sounds of the ballpark. They played a few games at the interactive exhibits, with Seungmin showing off his baseball trivia skills.

Y/N laughed and teased him good-naturedly, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere. They took silly photos together, making funny faces and poses in front of the ballpark's iconic signs.

As they walked, they stumbled upon a stall selling all sorts of baseball-themed treats. Seungmin's eyes widened as he scanned the menu, and he promptly ordered them a plate of loaded fries, a giant pretzel, and a couple of churros.

Y/N giggled at Seungmin's enthusiasm, happy to indulge in the tasty snacks with him. They sat down at a table, munching away and people-watching as the crowd bustled by.

As they ate, Seungmin turned to Y/N with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Want to try something really adventurous?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Seungmin grinned. "I'll show you," he said, pulling Y/N to her feet and leading her off towards the next adventure.

Seungmin grinned mischievously as he led Y/N to a small food stall tucked away in a corner of the concourse. "I want to try something new," he said, his eyes scanning the menu.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she read the options. "Fried crickets?" she asked, her voice skeptical.

Seungmin nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I've heard they're really good! And we can't leave the stadium without trying something adventurous."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, but Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm eventually won her over. "Okay, fine," she said, laughing. "But if I start to gag, it's on you."

Seungmin chuckled and ordered them a plate of fried crickets, along with a side of spicy sauce. They sat down at a nearby table, and Seungmin picked up a cricket and dipped it in the sauce.

"Here goes nothing," he said, popping the cricket into his mouth.

Y/N watched in amazement as Seungmin chewed and swallowed, a look of surprise on his face. "Wow, that's actually really good!" he exclaimed.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?" she asked, picking up a cricket and dipping it in the sauce.

She took a tentative bite, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Hey, this is actually pretty tasty!" she said, laughing.

Seungmin grinned, happy to have shared the experience with Y/N. "I told you it would be good!" he said, high-fiving her.

As they finished their snack, Y/N turned to Seungmin with a smile. "You know, I never would have tried that if it wasn't for you," she said.

Seungmin's face lit up with a warm smile. "That's what I'm here for," he said, taking her hand in his.

As the game entered its final innings, the energy in the stadium began to build. Seungmin's favorite team, the home team, was trailing by a run, but they were determined to make a comeback.

Seungmin and Y/N were on the edge of their seats, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. The tension was palpable as the home team's batter stepped up to the plate.

"Come on, come on!" Seungmin shouted, his voice hoarse from cheering. "You can do it!"

Y/N laughed and joined in, cheering and clapping along with Seungmin. The batter swung his bat, and the crowd erupted into cheers as the ball soared through the air.

"It's going, it's going, it's going!" Seungmin shouted, his eyes fixed on the ball.

Y/N watched in amazement as the ball sailed over the outfield wall, scoring a home run and tying the game. The crowd went wild, cheering and chanting as the home team's players celebrated on the field.

Seungmin and Y/N were hugging each other, screaming with excitement. They were both jumping up and down, waving their arms in the air.

This was it, the moment they had been waiting for. The home team was going to win the game, and Seungmin and Y/N were going to celebrate together.

As the home team's closer took the mound, Seungmin and Y/N were on the edge of their seats, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. The tension was palpable as the closer wound up and threw the final pitch.

The batter swung and missed, and the umpire shouted "Strike three!" as the crowd erupted into cheers. The home team's players rushed the field, celebrating their victory as Seungmin and Y/N hugged each other, screaming with excitement.

As they celebrated, Seungmin turned to Y/N and pulled her into a romantic kiss. The crowd around them cheered and whistled, but Seungmin and Y/N didn't notice. They were lost in their own little world, basking in the excitement and joy of the moment.

As they pulled back from the kiss, Seungmin grinned at Y/N, his eyes shining with happiness. "I'm so glad we got to experience this together," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Y/N smiled back, her heart full of love for Seungmin. "Me too," she said, snuggling into his side. "This has been the perfect day."

Seungmin wrapped his arms around Y/N, holding her close as they watched the home team celebrate their victory. They stood there for a long time, basking in the joy and excitement of the moment, their love for each other shining brighter than the brightest stadium lights.

As the celebration died down and the crowd began to file out of the stadium, Seungmin and Y/N reluctantly said their goodbyes to the ballpark. They walked hand in hand out of the stadium, already making plans for their next adventure together.

The sun was setting over the horizon as they walked, casting a warm golden light over the city. Seungmin and Y/N walked in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company as they basked in the glow of their perfect day.

After a while, Seungmin turned to Y/N and smiled. "You know, I think this has been one of the best days of my life," he said, his eyes shining with happiness.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she looked at Seungmin, her love for him overflowing from her heart. "Mine too," she said, smiling back at him.

Seungmin's face lit up with a warm smile, and he pulled Y/N into another romantic kiss. As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their perfect adventure together.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @intartaruginha

[cherie-doll]

i hope the day is good for you 🫶🏻 (english is not my first language) can you please write a story with cod men, about what would they do when the reader doesnt make it home from the mission - like they are waiting at home for her but she's dead.

thx for submitting love <33

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He didn't believe it at first, there was just no way... he immediately got to verifying all his sources, even went down to talk to the other soldiers who had been a part of your team

You were supposed to come home, he expected you to come back to him, safe and sound like always but instead of falling asleep and exhausted in his arms like you should've been by tonight, your corpse was out there somewhere missing his embrace

He thought of how he could've prevented this from happening, yes he still blamed himself for anything bad that happened to you despite it not being in his hands, maybe if he could've kept you from going, why did you even feel the need to continue doing this?

There was no one else he cared for as much as he did for you, which truly said a lot of your relationship, but since he met you he felt an overwhelming urge to show love like he'd never done before, nothing else on earth deserved this dedication like you did

He deteriorated rather quickly, the mornings became grim and he couldn't bear to see the sun setting without thinking of how much you loved letting the rays caress your arms and let your eyes take in that golden light, you looked so beautiful in those moments

Ghost

Since he met you, there was finally a stage in his life he could think of purely, sure the relationship wasn't perfect, but this was something he could be reminded of and he didn't have to fight to keep it hidden in the back of his mind, he let the memories emerge to the surface and ponder about them

It had been something pleasant but it had been ripped out of his hands far sooner than he would've wanted, his fantasy that had become a corrupted reality, it makes him want to die, badly, but he always found a way to survive the deadliest situations, somehow he always did; as if he was cursed with immortality

But this? He felt no desperation urging him to dig out of the hole he was sinking into, the walls closing in on him from all sides and he made no effort to push it away, it felt sort of relieving being cramped and paralyzed since he couldn't see the path ahead of him, with you it had become so obvious and clear what he wanted but now there was nothing worth moving towards

Did life always want something from him? Just when he thought he lost everything he could lose, there was always something else being pried out of him, it was painful because it was forcefully taken away just when he was getting attached, when there was no foreseeable evil trying to destroy him there was some good, and you had been the best unexpected thing in his life

Soap

You were like an illusion he had always dreamed of and finally were achieved, a life so dreamy and ideal he thought would never be in his reach, but he had been permitted to have it for a short while with you

Within your time together a love so beautiful had bloomed, it was sweet how sublime it had felt, you had been youthful, still beaming with so much life within you but tragically cut short, those years had gone and went unused

He couldn't find the sense within him to comprehend why it had to be you, your death had been like a cold slap to the face, he had once again become aware of the disheartening reality he lived in, that nothing was secure nor did everything stay the same forever

Well, he knew about the forever part, but did it have to come so soon? He had to gather the strength within him to continue forward and he wasn't even sure of that, there was still so much left unsaid, so much still to be done, and how frustrated he was that it would all be forgotten and left unfulfilled

A sadness like no other would coat his existence, swallow him up and change him beyond recognition, his mind would be invaded by memories of you that will replay until they burned and ceased to exist... the day he ceased to exist

Gaz

All those days that he had spent with you had been the most fulfilling days he had ever experienced, he could remember the warmth of your hand, the weight of your body asleep next to him on the mattress, the security knowing you valued his affection and returned it

He truly felt the happiest with you and he wished to be encased in that happiness forever, but how naive it was of him to think it was possible for even a second, life was always moving and throwing hurdles at us that seem impossible to avoid, it's only a matter of time misfortunes come to us all

By simply contemplating and reminiscing, he felt grief beyond help and any consolation couldn't do much for him, wistful memories came to him and he could not sleep at night, all they did was leave a dark imprint on his mind

His caring nature did not change, he thought with time he could heal and learn to move on, but some things never change, and a sore spot still brings pain when pressed too hard, he would mull over this no matter how painful it was to do so

How he misses to hold you in this moment and kiss you

Roach

The news of your death came like a hard blow to his face, and he was left clutching his chest, eyes watering with tears as he desperately tried to cling onto some comforting memory in his mind

Restlessness follows immediately, even at night sleep does not come to him no matter what he does, the memories you shared seemed to tear him apart rather than anything help him, but he didn't want to forget you either

He knew he couldn't get you back and he had lost you forever in this life, panting and gasping he would awaken from his nightmares, the little sleep he got would do nothing to comfort him, and you weren't there to comfort him, to silently hold nor ease with your voice in his ear

His mind wanted to deceive his heart, make him believe you were somewhere far away but still thinking of him, that he could close his eyes and imaging resting his head on your shoulders, basking in serenity as he lost himself in the waves that lulled him

Alejandro

He was overtaken by bitterness and anger, his better judgement was clouded far beyond reason at the most valuable treasure in his life forever gone, the feeling of longing would become a hole he'd spend his days trying to fill with wrongful acts

All he wanted and needed was your touch to remind him reality was there and not as cruel as he thought, you had still met and loved in your time and nothing could take away what had already been done, he could live blissfully in life knowing you had known each other

But could he be satisfied with that? He could strongly feel the ties that bound you together still tug at his heart, and every year he remembered you, would set an altar for you and fill it with what were your favorite foods and things

He would stare at your imagine, remembering how he once had kissed those lips, stared into your sparkling eyes that watched him endearingly, your face he had held within his hands...

He could never have that back

Rudy

He missed delicately tracing your face, his fingertip raising softly over every curve and line, your silhouette against the wall when you rose that morning, early so you could still say your goodbyes to him and tell him to expect you back very soon, this one wouldn't be too long you said

You had left him a content man, he'd sit around the house and wait, he would take it easy these days because you'd be back soon, but he wasn't ready to withstand the tumult he'd find himself in

His heart had become haggard in the days following your death, he had absorbed every bit of warmth and clung to the last signs that you had left behind, he wished he had been there, to ease your last painful moments before death, how much did that train of thought torment him, day and night it ran through his mind

In sleep, he dreamt of terrible ways you had encountered death, surely, you didn't have a peaceful one, you were healthy and fit to make it, something terrible must have happened but no matter how much he wished to know the cause of your death it wasn't given, most likely for the best to remain unknown

Phillip Graves

He often boasted of having you in his life, it was such a fortunate occurrence when you met that he didn't think it was entirely a coincidence, he loved doting on you and hold you in his arms knowing you were there for him

You had already confirmed the date of your return, but that day came and passed and there was no sign of you, worse yet no message or word had been heard on your part, it was he who had to dig and find out that you had been KIA

It felt like a strong blow to his chest to have you ripped away from him, he knew the harsh reality and danger he was constantly under, he just never imagined it would get to you one day

You shouldn't have paid for his sins or errors, he wished you had stayed out of the battle, but you had your own life to carve out and ultimately it had been your decision

Much time would have to pass before he'd be able to say your name, for the longest time he'd whisper it, as if afraid it'd shatter his reality even more, staying in the air reminding him of what he lost

Makarov

You were forever gone from his grasp, how was he to cope with that? The fire that had warmed his insides, making every act of his be out of love for you suddenly halted, reduced to nothing but ashes and now he was left to sweep the heaps of it

The emptiness growing and knowing there wasn't a piece to fit or make him whole again like you, you were a unique piece, the edges weren't cut with delicacy that an experienced hand could replicate, there wasn't a mold to follow to shape something else into you

You sprung out of chaos and spontaneity with ease, there was a lightheartedness you brought out in him that brought out the best in him, all of it offered to you who didn't greedily take but lovingly returned

He didn't want to believe someone like you could just be taken away from him and have nothing done about it, just when he thought he could be tender he'd return to his old ways, the resentment stronger than ever and tied to his heart, obscuring and consuming him

Keegan

How despairing did this turn out for him, never had he imagined he'd lose you, all that time he had spent training with you, preparing for when the worst could happen and each time you had managed to slip away, always

Except this time you weren't fast enough, he knew those shoulders held up a levelheaded person, who confidently calculated their every move, it was unfair you had been taken

His brows are now furrowed, thinking this just has to be some sort of protocol you're following, faking a death isn't all that uncommon, maybe you were still alive out there, hiding away somewhere for your safety, each day he held the pitiful hope that you'd come back to him, then he'd nurse your injuries and help you stand back up

But moons waxed and waned and you didn't appear, and he couldn't hold the fragments of you close to his heart if you wouldn't be around to reignite them and make them come true again

His palm that had curled, clutching the remnants loosed and he had to give up that foolish dream and accept reality as it was being presented

König

Was it cruel if he wished it was you who had received the news instead of him? He thought it would have been that way, he often joked about the benefits you'd get when he passed, it wasn't supposed to be you to leave earlier than him

Relaxed he was sitting in the armchair until he received the terrible news, his breaths became desperate as he tried to get air into his lungs, he wanted to march down there to the field himself to collect you, to not believe it just yet

Maybe you'd be down there, hiding away in some corner like the sly fox you were and say you had managed to dodge the bullet this time

But he was disappointed with the outcome of things, he hated it when things didn't follow the path he set for them but no one could have controlled the outcome of this course, it had left a profound wound in his heart he wasn't sure he'd be able to heal from

You had parted without saying your goodbyes and now he wouldn't be able to live with that, to live longer still with you in the back of his mind

Horangi

He hated anything that brought the slightest trace of despair, and he dealt horribly with it, he ran on pure serendipity but now he couldn't count on that, was it by being at the wrong place and time you had been one of the lives lost, the most important one to him

He felt the urge to go back to his old ways of numbing out the pain, but he pushed that temptation away, it would only drain his money and everything he had worked for go to waste, he knew you wouldn't have wanted that for him and right now he just wished to keep the traces of you very much alive and present

He wanted to go about his days as if you were still there, the flower you planted, he tried to keep it alive and water it, the way you left your stuff around the house, that way it was easier to transport himself to a time when you were there with him, still at home

The people of the past are hard to forget but he didn't mind, he faced the situation with more determination than he himself expected, he was surprised at the resolve he had come up with

He had loved without regret, and with every passing day he'd be closer to reuniting with you again

Nikto

The only sound occupying the complete silence is the static in his mind, he's just numb, doesn't know what to do, what he should do with whatever emotions he's trying to detect, he must feel something

He was just delivered the worst news of his life, he should be breaking down and crying but he can barely even process the fact that you really are gone, he looses his train of thought every five seconds and can only stare forward as if in a trance he's unable to escape out of

He feels the long seconds drag by but he can't get up from his fixed spot on the chair, it's like a knife has been plunged into his side and pulled out, leaving the gaping wound pulsating softly, but he can barely hear his flesh scream out in pain, he can only feel the blood oozing out, staining his clothes and falling to the floor in droplets as he actively ignores it

He is hurt but can only clutch at it, he can't get up, feels far too comfortable sitting on this kitchen chair staring forward to the wall, elbows resting on his knees

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: swearing, trauma, therapy, unprotected piv, oral sex (female receiving)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Part Twenty-Eight of Ink & Needle

The aftermath of Kit’s actions influences your daily life. You proposition Simon with the hope of moving forward.

Chapter Twenty-Seven // Chapter Twenty-Nine

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Months Later

Healing isn’t linear. It is not kind or forgiving. The strangeness of therapy is how it resembles a spiderweb, beautiful at a glance but a lie. There is nothing beautiful in facing what you wish to leave behind. Sticky and lethal and pure carnage rehashed over and over again until talking it out becomes a numbing dullness.

Hope therapy goes well today. Love you.

Evie’s text stares up at you from the phone screen. She’s been a good friend through all of this, giving you space yet standing by your side. How the roles have reversed, become opposite from where it all started.

Bravo’s wet nose pushes into your palm, forcing your attention away from the phone screen.

“Hello, Bravo,” you croon softly, scratching the underside of his chin. “You good boy. Best boy!” His tail whips around in a circle, kicking up a breeze.

Simon’s dog has attended every therapy session with you. At first, you thought is strange that Simon insisted on it, but now you can’t imagine not having the German Shepherd there. Nearly all of your appointments occur during 141 Ink’s business hours. Simon cannot join you in person, but he can send a piece of himself along.

“Where’s your dad?” you tease. “Do you see him?”

Bravo stretches his neck, glancing around for Simon. It lasts only a moment. He is clearly far more interested in the attention you’re giving him.

“He is right here.”

Simon’s voice wraps around like a warm hug. You went without it for so long that now it’s a treat every time you hear him speak.

Bravo pivots out of your touch, taking a step forward to situate himself between you and Simon.

Simon’s eyebrows rise slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. The body language stands in stark contrast to his massive grin. “Protecting her, are you? Even from me?” Bravo half-whines, half-barks. Simon chuckles. “That’s my boy.”

He gives Bravo a quick pat on the head before stepping around the dog. You immediately lean into Simon, one hand pressing into his chest as he cups the side of your neck, his thumb resting on the front of your throat. There is a protective, nearly primal quality to the way Simon’s features shift as his attention turns to you

“Am I late?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No.” Presenting your mouth, Simon descends slowly, meeting you with a serenely sensual kiss.

All the quiet, simmering anxiety that sits in the back of your mind melts away like a last snow, leaving behind a plethora of green grass that reaches for the sun. Simon is your beacon in the dark, the candle flame that lights your way.

One kiss is not enough. You need a second. A third.

The old flame of desire snakes upward, slithering between your bones to settle in your chest. It is asking for the thing you’ve denied yourself the last three months—an intimacy you had with Simon before everything happened.

A fourth kiss. A fifth. Desire tightens its languid body, constricting until your breath catches.

“Get a room!”

The voice of a passing stranger breaks the enchantment, the building desire retreating to hide amongst brown leaves and sticks.

Your cheeks grow hot just as a scowl appears on Simon’s face. Shoulder’s straightening, Simon is gearing to tell the interloper off, but you grab at Simon’s hand the second he begins to turn. A light tug is all it takes. Just your touch, and Simon’s scowl recedes to a soft smile that he only ever gives to you.

With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Simon clears his throat and takes Bravo’s offered leash, wrapping it around his tattooed knuckles. He places his hand low on your back, ushering you toward his parked car.

“How was therapy?”

Simon asks every time—a loaded question.

You exhale through your nostrils, briefly glancing away from him because telling the truth is fucking hard, especially when it involves him. You settle on a half-lie.

“Fine,” you reply. “Productive.”

Fine? Yes. Productive? No.

Simon’s head tilts slightly, gaze assessing like he doesn’t entirely believe you. “Up for company today?”

This you can appreciate it. Simon may always ask how therapy went but he never pushes further than you’re willing to give.

“Not really,” you answer, this time truthfully.

Evie’s unanswered text is as much a reminder as Simon’s questions. Things are different now. Normal cannot be what it once was. There are fractures you hold in your heart, memories that you wish you could erase with a quick snap of the fingers.

Simon nods, apparently content with your answer. “Then we’ll go home.”

It’s a short walk to the car, but you savor every second, leaning against Simon with each step. He talks your ear off about nothing, filling the air with what he did at the shop today, and the customers he had even as he helps you into the car.

It’s a lovely distraction. Which is why Simon is doing it at all. He knows. He understands. Simon is not a chatty person, he’s usually blunt with his words, more to the point than anything else. He prefers fewer words than long-winded nothings, and him keeping you distracted like this goes against everything he’s comfortable with.

But Simon doesn’t know what you talk about in those sessions with the therapist, and you refuse to share it with him. He also doesn’t ask, and for that, you’re fucking grateful. You’re still coming to terms with it yourself, shuffling through the two and a half months you were gone.

Sometimes, you think things would be easier if Kit had just hurt you. That’s the expected thing, to be mutilated in unforgiveable ways. You think about his choices often, what was going through his head, and why he never raised a single hand to you. The silence you received instead is almost worse somehow. Kit refused to speak with you, and the only other person who saw was the man that brought you your meal. He refused to say anything to you—refused to even glance in your direction. It wasn’t until the coffin that you heard the first human voice other than your own in two months.

And the voice was Simon’s. Not Kit’s. Simon’s.

Today, you talked about the coffin.

Not that you actually remember it. You only saw it after you were released from the hospital. Simon took you to some military base because Captain Price thought that seeing it in person might trigger a memory. He was firmly against it, insisted that you didn’t have to do this, but you pushed back, wanting to see what that monster put you in. Simon backed down, but setting your gaze on the thing that you nearly died in turned your limbs to stone and your mind to smeared jelly.

Simon was fucking furious. You’ve seen him upset—and you thought you knew what anger looked like on him. How wrong you were. Kyle stepped in and escorted you out of the room. You might have been on the other side of the wall but it only damped the screaming match that happened. Their words were heated, the exchange loud, and though you didn’t catch all of it, you picked up pieces.

Don’t involve her again.

This is my price to pay.

She’s suffered enough.

Kyle, while leaning against the wall next to you and fidgeting with his watch, had given you a solemn smile, an attempt to reassure but only left you feeling hollow.

“Don’t fret over it,” he had said. “Simon loves you is all. Price knows that.”

“They’re screaming at each other,” you murmured.

Kyle shrugged, the smile becoming more sincere and genuine. “Price will hug him after he’s done yelling. Simon will grunt.” He winked. “All good, love. Promise.”

Simon never brought you to another military base or anything to do with what happened again. If anyone reached out to him to insist, you never heard about it.

But of what you do remember, it’s of what happened before the coffin, how Kit smiled when he brought you your meal. You didn’t know it was drugged then. He hid it well, disguising the taste and texture. You should have known something was wrong when Kit sat on the floor across from you and watched you gobble up every bite. But you had been hungry, and having another person near felt so comforting in the moment.

“Movie sound good?”

You inhale sharply, turning toward Simon’s voice. He’s standing next to you, passenger door open, the middle of the brow creased with concern by your reaction. The two of you are already home.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “What did you ask?”

The corners of his lips turn downward. You’ve slipped off again—left reality for a bit.

“A movie,” repeats Simon. “After dinner. Thought we could stay in tonight.”

Bravo shoves his face between the front passenger seat and the interior of the car. His dark eyes dart between the two of you, impatience clear in the way his tail thump thump thumps against the backseat.

“Great,” you reply, slipping out of the car.

Simon’s gaze remains impassive, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand, Bravo trotting along behind the two of you.

Inside, Simon takes your coat, hanging it up next to his before heading into the kitchen to start the kettle. It’s April now, but the weather is still chilly on occasion, and you could go for a tea.

“The new visa should arrive soon,” says Simon, flipping the tap on the electric kettle. “Price made a few calls.” Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, he sets them down on the counter before turning around to face you. “Could get you a different one. A longer stay.” He pauses, a hopefulness twinkling in his eye. “Citizenship even.”

With everything that’s happened, Simon still wants you here, with him. Hands clasped in front of you, you meander into the kitchen, almost sauntering in the way you approach him. Simon’s eyelids grow heavy, that earlier desire forming in his gaze. The two of you have touched and kissed, but the few times any further intimacy has been initiated, it’s been by Simon. You weren’t committed then, still confused and dripping with a sense of being unclean.

When you’re ready. No rush.

Respect for you outweighs his desire. Simon made you aware in other ways—subtle glances and touches, gentle compliments—but never pushed, never made you feel like sex is an expectation. He handed you the ball and bat with the only request that you swing when ready.

“Is that what you want, Simon? For me to stay?”

As you draw closer, Simon’s hands instinctually reach out to you. You do not shy away but step into his embrace. Those large, tattooed hands of his clutch your waist, pulling you closer until you’re nearly flush against him.

“There are few things I want more.”

“Only a few?” you tease, and you’re greeted with a warm smile.

“Nothing, then.”

The kettle starts to boil, but Simon ignores his, all of his attention focused on you.

“I don’t want to watch a movie. Think I’d like to do something else.”

Simon shrugs. “Course, love. Whatever you want.” He shifts slightly to plop a teabag into each mug and then carefully pours the water over the top. “We can watch the next episode of that show—”

“No,” you interject, and Simon sets the kettle down. “I mean—” You lick your lips, unsure of how you want to approach this. “I want to…try.”

Simon blinks. “Try,” he says slowly. “Try…what?”

It takes every ounce of control to not laugh at Simon’s confusion. Placing your hand on his chest, you slide it lower, and lower still until the confusion on his face melts away and realization dawns. Without breaking eye contact, Simon grasps your wrist and draws your hand away as it falls dangerously close to brushing against his groin.

“Only if you’re ready,” he murmurs, though you hear the hunger. “Don’t do it on my account.”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here, love.”

As you press into him, Simon’s resolve splinters. Your face is upturned, lips slightly parted in offer, and Simon’s mouth is just shy of connection. You breathe him in just as he does you. There is nothing you want more, to be consumed by him, to reconnect in the one way you’ve been without.

Simon lightly grasps the bottom-half of your face. “After dinner,” he says, and the curling need pooling low in your belly squirms with discontent.

“Now,” you breathe, a demand.

Simon’s eyelids flutter. Close. He takes a deep, steadying breath before opening them again. “If I sink inside you right now, I won’t last.”

The admission only enflames the already burning embers. You desperately need to cross this hurdle, to find this intimacy with Simon again. With one hand free, you gently cup him through his jeans, rubbing, finding him hard and wanton.

Simon growls, and then you’re being lifted. He shoves everything out of the way, hot water spilling into the sink and onto the floor. The tea is forgotten, the bags briefly floating in the sink before the water disappears down the drain.

“I’m not taking you like this,” says Simon, forehead pressing against yours. “We’re having tea. Dinner. And only after will I indulge you.”

“Think the tea is ruined, Simon.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, closing the distance to seize you in a fierce kiss.

Everything about it is honey-drenched. Sticky. Slightly sweet. You open for him, and he goes for a taste, his hand on your throat like a collar. This is the passion you remember; the wanton need you crave.

It is not gone. Only buried.

As your hands roam, the kissing only becomes more desperate. Your thighs trap his waist, but he makes no move to retreat. Not like you could stop him. He’s far stronger than you, and even in that strength he’s aware of it, not grasping too tightly.

Fingers delve, and in seconds you have the front of Simon’s jeans open, slipping your hand inside to find his warmth. As your fingers brush his skin, Simon breaks the kiss, nearly choking on his next breath as he draws back.

“Dinner first,” he groans, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand from his pants. “Food first.”

“You’re a tease, Simon Riley,” you whimper.

He chuckles, low and knowing. “Like making you squirm.”

Dinner is a much longer affair than you’d like, as if Simon has an eternity to feed you. Every time you try to help, he shoos you off, telling you to relax and enjoy your cuppa. You eventually give up, curling up with Bravo on the sofa watching reality television as Simon putters about.

When he finally hands you your plate, you scarf it down in record time, promptly setting it aside to stare at Simon longingly.

“After,” he repeats.

“Buzzkill.”

Simon reaches over and squeezes your thigh, returning to his meal, gaze locked on the television. You try to refocus, but your mind is locked on a singular goal like you’re a man thinking with his dick and not his brain.

With a final scrape of his fork across his plate, Simon clears it, sighing with contentment. Reaching for your plate, he starts cleaning up, still insisting that you don’t move from the couch at all. This time, you don’t put up a fight, deciding it is better to snuggle with Bravo.

“Bed, Bravo,” snaps Simon. The German Shepherd grumbles as he lifts his head from your lap and dramatically slides off the couch. “To think you used to sniff out bombs,” mutters Simon, shaking his head. “Off with you.”

Bravo disappears down the hall, and then Simon is turning to you, holding out a hand in offering. “Come here to me.”

The delivery in his voice leaves no room for denial. Pushing off from the couch and reaching for his hand is easy. You want this—need this.

Simon’s arms go around you, holding you close. That soft smile returns and you answer it with one of your own.

“Still want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

Simon’s thumb lightly grazes the line of your jaw. “Tell me if you want to stop. Promise me.”

“Promise,” you murmur.

“That’s my girl.”

With your hand in his, Simon walks backward into the bedroom. He pulls you in as he shuts the door, teasing a kiss but not giving it to you. You try to steal one anyway, but Simon knows you too well, leaning away at the last second as he slips his hand from yours.

There is no mask. No anymore. Haven’t seen it at all unless he’s at the shop, working. His sweatshirt goes, followed by his shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. Even in the dark with a just a hint of moonlight, you can glimpse him.

Corded muscle. Endless tattoos.

Your hands copy his movements, removing an article of clothing one at a time. All this time you’ve been rushing, and now that you’re here, the undressing is slow. Languid. Simon is done before you, and even in the dark you notice the way his hands clench and unclench with the anticipation of touching you.

You barely have your socks and pants off before Simon is grasping for you, hands groping ass and hip, mouth coming down on yours with desperation. In this, you feel utterly wanted, as if there is nothing he requires more than to be one with you.

Simon’s erection presses into your lower stomach, an insistent thing that both of you ignore. His kisses are your favorite, you want them forever, and that is all you can focus on even as your grow slicker between the thighs.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and then connect them behind his neck, clinging like he’ll disappear if you don’t. Simon’s hands slide over your back and down to your ass, filling his hands as squeezing. Angling your hips up a bit, he rubs himself against you, a low groan leaving him as the base of his erection brushes the side of your clit.

Forget slow. Forget the fact that Simon admitted he wouldn’t last.

Unlocking your arms from around his neck, you reach back and grab one of Simon’s groping hands. Bringing it between your bodies, you guide his fingers to your pussy, desperately needing him to touch you. His thick fingers slide easily over your sex, your arousal apparent.

You shiver from the contact, but Simon? Simon growls, low and feral, and utterly primal. Flattening three fingers against your sex, Simon parts you, the middle finger teasing your entrance with a soft caress. It hovers, and then starts to slide in.

Simon’s lips move away from your mouth and to your chin, then to your jaw, and then your throat. More of his finger enters.

“I missed you,” you whimper as he settles to the knuckle. Simon’s teeth graze your neck as his finger begins to slide back out. “Every. Day.”

Simon adds a second finger, pumping both in perfect rhythm. “I’m here now, love. Right here. Not going anywhere.”

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as Simon’s palm rubs against your clit. “I—love—”

“Love, what?” coaxes Simon.

“You. I love you.”

Simon’s teeth no longer graze but they don’t bite down. They trace a line up your throat before taking a nip at your bottom lip. His fingers begin to retreat again but you grasp the back of his hand, pressing, urging him back inside.

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you murmur, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. “Fuck me the way you want to. Please.”

Simon’s head tilts to the side. “You sure about that, love?”

You whimper, nodding, pussy clenching around his fingers as his palm lightly rubs against your clit again. It’s lovely—slowly building that orgasm you so desperately crave. But then Simon’s fingers are gone and in his mouth, sucking them clean.

Your brain short circuits, unable to comprehend the change until Simon is guiding you onto all fours on the bed. He places a hand on your upper back, urging your front into the mattress as your ass stays up in the air. Guiding your legs apart, you expect him to settle between, to mount you and rut.

His mouth finds you instead, tongue parting your pussy from clit to opening then back again. You press back against his mouth and Simon makes a feast of you. The orgasm is a slap in the face. It doesn’t arrive slowly but as a thunderous force, nearly smashing you over the head with its intensity.

Thighs quiver. Legs shake. You cry out so loud you think Simon might stop. He doesn’t. He only continues through the ordeal, urging toward another and yet another until there are tears in your eyes. Only then does he draw back, wettened lips kissing the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass.

His strong hands rub up and down the length of your back. Soothing and comforting at first, but then demanding, helping you turn until you’re facing him. Limbs like jelly, you allow Simon to draw you into his lap, to ease your legs to fall on either side of him, to help guide you to and then onto his cock.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice gruff.

You vehemently shake your head. “No. Want you. Always.”

With a final effort, Simon rocks his hips up just as he presses down on your hips. Every inch is inside of you, stretching, filling. You’re full of him, but it’s not enough. You need him to move.

“Simon,” you beg.

Shifting his arms, he supports you with his hands and forearms as well as his thighs. It forces your legs up and open, ankles and feet dangling. A slice of moonlight cuts through the room, highlighting the space where your bodies meet. With your forehead resting against his cheek, you watch as Simon guides you up and down his length, disappearing and then reappearing with a shine.

Keeping one arm hooked behind his neck, you reach between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. You create a v with index and middle finger, parting your pussy to open you up more, to capture the place where Simon’s cock penetrates you.

He’s hardly keeping it together as you tease the base of his cock with a fingernail Simon’s whimper instinctually has your pussy tightening around him.

“I want you to come inside me,” you whisper, breath brushing over his cheek. Simon’s hands tighten, fingers digging into your flesh as he ceases sliding and starts thrusting. “Please,” you add with a hint of longing.

He cannot say no. Simon never does.

In seconds, Simon has you on your back, flattening you against the bed. With one hand above your head, fisting the sheets, he rests the other on the inner thigh of your left leg, holding it wide and open for a better angle.

Simon’s first thrust is brutal. He buries his face against your neck, and doesn’t fucking stop. Every time your bodies connect, he grunts loudly. The muscles in his back bulge beneath your palms.

This is not healing. This is carnage. This is a burial.

Simon is digging your grave but not to leave you to rot. You are to be wholly submerged, wholly undone in the dark, to be thread unspooled. You will linger in this grave, in Simon’s arm, to know only of him. And then, only then, will you be unearthed from the dirt.

In the morning, with the light, there will be a calmness that smothers all. A closing of a door that will never be reopened. There is no definition in past, only a resounding future, and you must take it—seek it.

“I love you,” groans Simon.

His words are what does it, that breaks the flood, and shows you the way forward.

“You’re mine.”

These words are not a groan, more a plea. You’re mine because he wants it so, and all you need to do is agree.

Mine.

Mine.

“Love you.”

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[ere-the-sun-rises]

I've got a story about this exact situation.

| | |

I had to read "The Stone Angel" by Margaret Laurence in Grade 12 English. It's hard to describe - a kind of day-in-the-life-of/character study/old-woman-tells-you-her-life-story kind of book. It's not about anything, necessarily - just a run through of one woman's version of the human experience. She tells her story as it happened, occasionally interjecting regrets or observations from her vantage point in the future. An interesting narrative design, and a compelling one.

I hated every fucking moment of reading that book. I bitched and moaned and resented it for taking up my life.

The worst part was, ironically, the protaganist. She was the most bitter, vile, wretched and judgmental shrew I'd ever had the misfortune to read about. I loathed her and being forced to see through her eyes. She would say and think unhinged and cruel things to people who loved her and cared for her. Had she been real before me, I would have slapped her so hard she'd get whiplash. She was repulsive, and even the really shitty things that happened to her - like two abusive husbands who left her broke and shamed - could not summon my pity or empathy. I didn't think she deserved what they put her through, but by god, she certainly didn't deserve to be happy.

And then ... the ending happened.

She skips back and forth between describing her past and narrating her present, where's she's an 80-something living with her second son and his wife. She tells you early on that she's doing this mental exercise because she's been diagnosed with dementia, so she wants to remember everything as it happened.

She decides to wander the neighbourhood and gets lost for three days. She finds and makes friends with a homeless man who lets her share his cardboard and newspaper bedding. They swap some stories about their lives. She thinks about her life on a park bench during the day, sitting in the sun and enjoying the warmth after a cold night. She finally admits she's been ungrateful (and unrepentantly evil) to a lot of people in her life (especially her second son and especially especially his wife). Then, in the middle of a thought, the sentence stops short and the rest of the page is empty. It took me a moment to register what had just happened. I re-read the last few sentences a few times before it clicked.

She died.

An elderly woman, riddled with dementia, lost and unable to find her way home, died out in a public park, alone.

Except I was there.

I'd been there with her the whole time. I left the house with her, followed her through the little city she lived in, listened as she told me her whole life story. I had been with her to her final breath and thought - the only one who was. Someone random. A stranger who, until this very moment, had reviled her and sought only to escape her miserable fucking life - I was who she died with. Not her son who loved her so much or her daughter-in-law who spent years looking after this frigid bitch, not anyone from her past - me. Just ... me.

I was shattered. I sat on my bedroom floor, staring at and rereading her last, unfinished words. I knew she had more to say and only now, once she was gone, did I want to know them. All the resentment drained out of me and I was left by myself for the first time in weeks, hollowed out and sad. Sad for all of it - the misery her husbands put her through, the elitist pride she saddled herself with, the disdain she showed everyone around her, the heartbreak of her son when he inevitably found her body. So much time and energy ... all wasted by her. She couldn't realize much she had until she's elderly and lost, and through a confluence of chance and her own high-handed sins, she dies here. With nothing by ghosts and no one but a distant stranger who never talks back.

I closed that book and stared blankly at the cover art. I just watched that woman die. And this transcript of her thoughts is all that's left of her now - sitting on the floor between my legs and staring silently back at me.

| | |

I only read this book once, and I'm unlikely to ever read it again. I hated her, and I'd probably hate her even more now that I'm an adult with more adult perspectives on the things in her life.

I think everyone should read it.

It's a miserable slog with a repugnant protaganist and it broke my heart so thoroughly that I still remember it a decade later. I've never had a book - before or since - strip me bare with all the things it didn't say. The pathos is extraordinary and devastating. The absence of her words, the unfinished thoughts in her mind ... haunting.

I said that this book isn't about anything, because it isn't. But "The Stone Angel" is something ... her tombstone. It's simultaneously what it is to die and to watch someone die. To feel loss, even for someone you might hate. She's dead, and her death doesn't take her wrongs with her or undo her own suffering - it's just silence. Loss. Maybe even grief.

But that's the point, isn't it? To feel grief, one must have empathy, sympathy; feel affection or pity or both. This book made me feel grief for a fundamentally unpleasant fictional woman simply by letting me experience her life with her.

You'll hate reading this book, and I think you should.

I straight up do not trust you if you did not enjoy a single book you had to read for English class. I know they assigned some real stuffy stinkers and the curriculum varies across districts but not one? Not The Outsiders? Not The Picture of Dorian Gray? Not Fahrenheit 451? Not even Frankenstein? Damn. That’s crazy.

[tiyawnyana]

Hey hey heyyy!

I actually love avatar too! I’m counting down the days until Avatar 3 comes out so I can watch it a million times <3

Anyway, I was hoping you could do headcannons of Viktor x councillor!reader who is an advocate for building up the Undercity so it gets to Piltover level if that makes sense. (Basically just wanting equality within the two districts)

Thank yeww!

-🎐 anon

Thank you for the request!!! (I mightve gone a little off track) Gaaaah I love me some good quality characters that wear their heart on their sleeves. Also I cannot wait for avatar 3!! I fear everyone around me will hate me bc that is all I will be talking about

A/N: two fics two days in a row?? A Christmas miracle

Characters: Viktor x Counselor!Reader

Warnings: nothing explicit—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Heart

You took over the counselor position after your Uncle, Torman Hoskel, retired.

You got into politics for the sole purpose of giving equality to those less fortunate. You were a black sheep of sorts, in comparison to your other family members

you were seen as childish- bright eyed and naive, but you played your cards closely and carefully, much like one Medarda (she too realized this)

It was earlier on into the beginning of the age of Hextech, Jayce Talis and his partner, Viktor from the Undercity were becoming the faces of the future.

People mainly only acknowledged Jayce, but you often sought out Viktor as well, including him on the conversations with the progress of Hextech

You gave Viktor the equal respect and admiration as Jayce received from everyone, and that surprised Viktor- a welcome surprise, thankfully

Over time, you built a steady, healthy friendship with him and Jayce, genuinely happy and enthralled with the progress and creations they made over the years

At first, Viktor thought your actions were none other than another counselor wanting Hextech in their pocket-

He was mistaken and he's glad of it, you never came in with that as your goal

You first poach the idea of installing something of good use to the undercity to Jayce in private, hoping for him to take the hint to speed things along.

His best friend, his partner in Hextech after all, was from Zaun. Viktor deserved to see their creations be used to help his people.

You advocated for Zaun more as time went on, acknowledging the name that the people have given their home. You brought in infrastructure ideas, growing more and more agitated as your ideas kept being pushed to the back burner.

This got you into arguments- Many arguments with the other counselors but you refused to bend. Counselor Heimerdinger remained neutral, not able to see that his people were starving in the undercity, suffering and ill ridden despite his prodigy being a product of that environment. You appreciated Heimerdinger for everything he's done, but came to the realization that it wasn't enough.

word of uprisings and crime lords gaining power in the Undercity after all the things that happened 5 years prior (the explosion at Jayce’s, the one down by the southern docks, the death of the ‘Hound’, Vander); it all gained your attention more

You had called for a meeting with the other counselors the night you returned, bringing your own collected vile of what was called Shimmer. The purple, glimmery fluid almost glowed, pulsing with light as you placed it before Counselor Heimerdinger.

“I’m afraid I must be completely honest and blunt here,” you usher to the vile,

“This is the product of our blatant disregard of our people in the Undercity.”

Counselor Salo scoffs, rolling his eyes and spewing some vile insinuations of ‘heathens’ and ‘animals’.

You ignore him, standing in the middle of the circular table,”I commend Counselor Kirammans house for commissioning the pipes in the lower parts of the Undercity to give them safe, proper air to breathe,” you nod to the woman,”But this is not enough. The people deserve more. They need our support, our protection-“

You don’t realize that Jayce and Viktor have been summoned, approaching the room and being let in halfway through your rant.

Viktor is surprised-

“These people have dug their own grave- they start riots and spew violence-”

“Only because they've been backed into a corner, Salo!” You shout, walking closer to his seat and therefore cornering him, despite the barrier of the table,”Anyone will do what they can to protect themselves, their families, from violence.”

You stand up straight, looking around the table. The counselors either look away or face you, a scowl on their lips.

“We are supposed to protect our people, not bury them underground with no hopes to getting out,” you usher to the vile once more,”This is what our lack of protection and equality does to them. Strips them of their lives. They're constantly in fear or struck by illness or addiction, all because we've been turning a blind eye. It's no wonder they've been rioting- it's the only thing that has gotten your attention!”

You glance over to Counselor Shoola, at least hoping she would acknowledge it but you're surprised to see Jayce and Viktor in the entryway.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Counselor Heimerdinger speaks out, beckoning the two in the entryway in.

You send a scathing glare at them all before storming out.

Viktor finds you a few hours later on the terrace above the gardens.

He's quiet, his cane the only form of noise as he approaches. There's a brisk chill to the air, moon high above the clouds cascading a cool glow along the flowers below.

He sighs, leaning against the banister, gazing down below before drifting his eyes back up to the sky

You huff out a soft sigh, head bowing in exhaustion,”They're all idiots.”

He laughs softly, nodding in agreement as he peers over at you,”Yeah- yeah, they can be.”

You bring your head up, frustration in your brow,”I just- how can these people be so stuck up? I get that my head was in the dirt for a while- but I learned and I'm trying to make things right-”

“You're using your status and position to do good,” he murmurs, leaning on his elbow and facing you,”That's more than any of them can say, honestly.”

You glance over at him with a sorrowful look,”What if that isn't enough? I'm doing all that I can, I've started production in the lower mines to clear out the old piping-”

Viktor shakes his head at that, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to place his hand over yours,”Even speaking it aloud does something. Your actions alone have proven that, don't think I haven't heard you giving ideas to Jayce for the undercity while I wasn't there.”

He smirks at you and you huff.

“Just keep doing what you're doing, I'm right there with you and I know Jayce is too,” he reassures softly.

You nod quietly, peering down below,”I hope I haven't squandered my position.”

“I don't think you have, and honestly,” he steps closer,”I don't think you will anytime soon. Your seat in that chamber is important for Piltover's Infrastructure- I'd say you hold more cards than Shoola or Salo.”

You roll your eyes with a fond huff,”Now, I doubt that-”

“Don't,” he speaks firm but careful,”You have what they don't seem to-”

You raise a brow,”And what would that be?”

He's silent for such a brief moment, eyes flicking across your face before he smiles softly,”A heart.”

Your face warms, surprisingly, and you attempt to brush it off with a sarcastic laugh.

“Considering one of them is made of metal-”

“I mean it,” he steps closer, and suddenly you feel his warmth,”You have a heart- full of fire and care for people you haven't even met-”

He cups your forearm,”You were kind to me without scorn, even when we first met.”

You're silent, gaze drifting down to his hand holding your arm. Your heart is thundering away in your chest,”It's not difficult to be kind.”

“For some, it is,” he murmurs, his warm eyes drifting over your face, urging you to look at him,”But you never wavered.”

You bring your gaze back up to his, almost taken aback by the genuine smile on his lips.

He brushes back a stray hair, tucking it behind your ear and cupping your cheek tenderly, pulling you in.

You almost think he's going to kiss you, but instead presses his forehead against yours, sighing softly.

“Keep using your voice,” he murmurs,”They're sure to listen eventually.”

You lean into his hold, hand moving to cup his elbow softly as you nod quietly.

He's the one to pull back, another surprise, but doesn't let you pull away completely- instead peering at you with a soft, but questioning gaze, eyes moving down to your lips before trailing back up to yours.

You nod, nose brushing his as he slots his lips over yours.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

A/N: requests are still open!

[onebadassunicorn]

All I Want Is You

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: pregnancy, premature delivery, fluff

word count: 1.3k

Taglist: @firefly-forest @salvatoresister1 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @batboyslutt @tiredsleepyhead

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

******

Chapter 9

Azriel POV

Y/n’s third pregnancy had been more difficult than they ever anticipated. The healer had warned them early on that this one would be harder on her body, that there were risks involved. But Y/n, his mate, ever fierce and full of hope, had insisted they could make it through.

Azriel had tried to stay optimistic for her sake, but deep down, fear gnawed at him. He saw how pale she’d become, how carrying the child sapped her energy more than her previous pregnancies. He stayed by her side constantly, his shadows curling protectively around her as if shielding her from the invisible threat.

But nothing could have prepared them for the night she went into labor far too early.

It began with a sharp pain that woke her from a restless sleep. She gasped, clutching her belly as Azriel bolted upright beside her. “Azriel,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.”

His shadows flared around him as he moved quickly, helping her sit up. But when he saw the blood staining the sheets, his heart stopped.

“No,” he whispered, panic rising in his chest. “No, no, no.”

Her face was pale, her breathing shallow as she looked at him, fear flickering in her green eyes. “Azriel, the baby…”

He didn’t waste another second. He called for Madja immediately, his shadows flying out to summon her and the rest of the family.

Within moments, the room was a flurry of movement. Madja arrived, her calm but firm voice taking command of the situation. Y/n was placed on the bed, her breathing labored, the pain written all over her face.

“Azriel,” Madja said, her tone sharp but steady, “I need you to stay calm. This is going to be difficult, but I will do everything I can to save them both.”

Azriel nodded, though his hands trembled as he gripped Y/n’s. “I’m not leaving her,” he said fiercely.

She reached up, her hand weak but determined as she cupped his face. “I love you,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “No matter what happens, I love you.”

“Don’t,” Azriel said, his voice breaking. “You’re going to be fine. Both of you. Do you hear me, baby? You’re going to be fine.”

The hours that followed were some of the longest of Azriel’s life. She fought through the pain, her cries breaking his heart as he held her hand, whispering reassurances that felt hollow even to him. Blood continued to seep from her, and Madja worked tirelessly to stabilize her.

When the baby finally came, her cries were faint but present—a tiny, fragile sound that made Azriel’s chest tighten.

“She’s so small,” Madja murmured as she wrapped the baby in a soft blanket. The tiny baby girl was barely the size of Azriel’s hand, her wings delicate and trembling as she let out another weak cry.

“Y/n,” Azriel whispered, his eyes flicking between his mate and their child. “She’s here.”

The baby was so small, so fragile, her wings delicate and trembling as she let out another weak cry. Azriel’s breath hitched as he looked at her.

“She’s early,” Madja said, her voice careful. “But she’s fighting.”

Azriel’s throat tightened as Madja placed the baby in his arms. She fit in his hands like she was made of glass, her dark curls already unruly, her green eyes, the same color as her mother's, fluttering open for a moment before closing again.

Y/n’s head turned weakly toward him, her eyes fluttering open as she tried to focus. “Let me… see her,” she whispered.

Madja hesitated for a moment before nodding and he brought her to Y/n’s side.

Azriel moved carefully to her side, lowering the baby so she could see. Y/n’s breath hitched as she reached out a trembling hand to touch their daughter’s tiny cheek.

“She’s beautiful,” Y/n murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Azriel nodded, his gaze never leaving the tiny bundle in his arms. “She is,” he said softly. “She’s so small. She came so early, we haven’t even decided on a name yet.”

He glanced out the window then, where the faint, shifting hues of the aurora borealis shimmered across the night sky. It was rare to see it here, but tonight, the lights danced as if celebrating the arrival of their daughter.

“Aurora,” Azriel said suddenly, his voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Her name is Aurora. For the light in the darkness.”

Y/n blinked, her tired eyes focusing on him. “Aurora,” she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue like a promise. A faint smile broke across her lips. “I love it.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, his hand brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. “Aurora,” he murmured again, his voice filled with reverence. “Our little light.”

********

Hours later, after Madja had stabilized Y/n and the baby, Azriel emerged from the bedroom, cradling Aurora in his arms. The family was gathered in the living room, their faces lined with worry.

“They’re okay,” Azriel said softly, his voice raw with relief. “Y/n and the baby… they’re both okay.”

The tension in the room broke instantly, Cassian letting out a relieved breath while holding a sleeping Azriella in his arms. Rhysand closed his eyes briefly in silent gratitude. Feyre swayed back and forth cuddling a sleepy Eryan in her arms and exchanged a tearful smile with Mor.

Azriel stepped closer, his shadows curling protectively around Aurora as he gently tilted her toward the others. “This is Aurora,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Our little light.”

The family gathered closer, their expressions softening as they took in the tiny baby. Her dark hair was already a mess of soft curls, her delicate wings trembling slightly, and her green eyes—so much like Y/n’s—blinked sleepily before closing again.

“She’s perfect,” Feyre said softly, resting her cheek on the top of Eryan’s head.

“She’s so small,” Mor murmured, her voice filled with wonder.

“But strong,” Cassian added, his grin softening as he looked at his brother. “Just like her mom.”

Azriel smiled faintly, his gaze never leaving Aurora. “She’s a fighter,” he said quietly. “She gets that from Y/n.”

Rhysand stepped forward, placing a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice warm.

“She is,” Azriel replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

When Azriel returned to the bedroom, Y/n was awake, her face pale but her eyes bright as she looked at him. He climbed into bed carefully next to her, settling Aurora in her arms.

Y/n let out a soft sigh as she gazed at their daughter, her tears spilling over as she smiled. “Aurora,” she whispered, the name a soft promise.

“For the light in the darkness,” Azriel said softly, wrapping his arms around both of them.

Y/n leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. “She’s our miracle,” she murmured.

Azriel pressed a kiss to her hair, his voice steady despite the lingering fear in his chest. “You both are,” he said. “You and our children… you’re everything, baby. My whole world.”

Y/n smiled, her fingers brushing over Aurora’s tiny hand. “I love you,” she whispered, as she turned back to gaze at Azriel, her voice filled with quiet strength.

“And I love you,” Azriel replied, his lips brushing her temple.

As Aurora let out a soft sigh in her sleep, the three of them settled into the quiet peace of the moment, watching the soft glow of the aurora borealis outside.

The end.

[atangledfate]

Of course everyone's eyes went to Vector as he went ridged as a board! Of course they weren't wrong he had been there to get her and the others off the shuttle. But truth was they split up shortly after landing but he had a feeling he was gonna get chewed out! He felt backed into a corner and honestly! alot happened so fast and he wasn't even hired to look after her--- but here he was being glared at by everyone!

" WOAH WOAH hold yer dang horses! I did what i was asked ta do, i got her on the ground! and we did it without crashin' and everything! but then she says to me... i need to get to the command center and buzzes off before i can stop her! i sent Charmy after her but i ain't seen neither one... so i'm just as worried as you! "

Espio sighed and gave a sideways glance as Vector got very defensive at the stares.

" To be fair... with our track record... its a miracle we managed to land without crashing... but Vector is right. Jewel was anxious to get here... and at the time we were moving people to the infirmary. If she didn't make it here... i pray Amy's attacker didn't get to her first..."

Miles was concerned by this information, and the fact Vector said nothing was classic Vector. but in his defense he probably assumed she was here and gone already or off doing something more important. He didn't blame Vector for losing her so much, and he sent Charmy with her. The kid was alot of things but he wouldn't have left Jewel alone...

" Belle has the right idea, we'll check security and see if we can find her. Also check for Charmy i bet the two won't be to far apart... Knowing Jewel it would have had to be real important for her to deviate from her duty as Director... she's always been dedicated to her work..."

he sighed

" All we can do now... is wait... "

===========================================

the teenage Bee struggled against the debris as he pushed himself up from where he'd nearly been crushed. The only thing he could think to do was push Miss Jewel into the Cell with Rough and Tumble and hope she would make it. Looking up at the sky from the hole in the roof it seemed like a piece of the airship had fallen and got snagged on an upper high way. When the airship finally crashed it fell down into the prison.

Ten years ago he'd have been to small and weak to do anything, but he was a teenager now. He and Vector fought alot about the risks he took and, how brazen he could be. Maybe he as right, he was pretty messed up but at least he could fly. Luckily his helmet seemed to have saved his head from being cracked open.

Charmy buzzed up into the air holding his busted shoulder and looking around for help. That's when he saw the green flash of motion and he was sure Vector would call him dumb or foolish for flagging her down! heck she might just laugh at him!

" HEY! HEY! GREENIE! OVER HERE!! oww... my shoulder... "

He winced landing on the street so she could reach him.

" I'm gonna get so grounded for this... i just know it... or worse V will take my drivers license away... maaaaaan this bites! "

"Well, what of Director Jewel? She surely has to be on the base, correct?" If Blaze was being honest she had taken notice to how they had yet to show up to the command center yet. The feline was sure there was a lot happening, though it had been some time since all this started and it would've made sense to have seen Jewel arrive at the command center by this point.

"I can have Belle Bot keep an eye on the camera's for her, though she has to be on the base since she was with The Chaotix and they made it here. Belle Bot, connect to the surveillance and keep a look out for Director Jewel. If you see her then state where she is." The Belle Bot eyes would change to blue and tap into the camera feed, looking for Jewel.

"A lot of unnecessary work when we can simply ask them where Jewel went," Kitsunami said as he looked at the Chaotix. "So, what did she run off to that was more important than trying to help deal with G.U.N?" A rather blunt and harsh way of wording it, though the fennec spoke his mind regardless of how it came off. Besides, he did have a point that her running off to do something else wasn't ideal right now.

"Calm down, everything is going crazy and I wouldn't be surprised if a ton of people are asking her what's going on and what she's doing about it," Rowan said, standing up and stretching a bit. "Though now that I think about it, there is another who's opinion we should get. Which would be the giant momma Wisp flying about the place. I can't imagine she's too happy with all the Wisps that are stressed out right now."

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"All I said was that I didn't know her." Surge never got around to talking to her, though about the only one's she really made any effort to talk to was the others on the team, and for some odd reason that Belle chick after she patched her up. "I'll still do a run around after I drop you off." The tenrec would grab Lanolin's hand. "Hang on tight I guess." She's never ran with someone in tow before unless she was trying to hurt them. Without anymore delay she sprinted off towards the infirmary.

[straystarr]

about you; lfl

In which you see your ex, and you're reminded of what he once meant to you. 

why I love you, why I hate you, and why I miss you

You weren’t supposed to see him. 

You were supposed to arrive just before five and leave just after seven. You were supposed to have a glass of wine, two if your confidence faltered even the slightest. You were to talk to people you hadn’t seen in years, to tell them of your current hobbies, and ask them about theirs. You’d gasp in awe with every old face coming to greet you and hug those that meant a little more to you. 

You were to congratulate your friend on her engagement, wishing her happiness and longevity and grace. And then when the time came, you would have slipped through the deliberately exaggerated conversations and attempts to fill your body with alcohol, not before giving your friend a kiss on the cheek and an embrace of appreciation. 

You were to arrive home, a long breath flying past your lips as your hands peeled the breathtaking dress, both figuratively and literally, off your body. You would have drowned in the comfort of your bed, tears already cascading into your pillow, and whether they were tears of joy or sorrow, you’d have to figure it out later on. Because for now, all you could think about is how you didn’t see him. 

That is what should have happened. 

You were to do everything according to plan. 

And yet, here you stood, arms length from him. Your third glass of wine in one hand, hugging your waist with the other, rather tight. Neither a smile or a frown painted your lips while your eyes reeked of discontent and awkwardness. Discontent with the situation, awkwardness for him. Or at least, that’s what you’d like to believe. 

Because the reality of it all is, he stood before you, eyes glossed over with a certain reminiscence you wished to claw out, lips curved into a gentle smile you ached to see, and not in such a way that made your chest warm – no, you despised that smile — his smile. 

Him, in all his glory, here. 

Your friend said he’d be arriving later in the night, around eight, she stated confidently. And still, with the clock barely showing six, a roar of excitement filled the room as he made his way through the front door.  And then all eyes on him moving off to you, some slow to turn their heads, others irritatingly obviously in their attempts. 

You tried your best to feign ignorance, continuing the conversation you previously paid no attention to. You tried your best to disregard the way your heart quickened and how soon after your breath followed. You tried your best to take no notice of him and his continuous glances towards you throughout the night. 

You tried your fucking best. And it still wasn’t good enough. 

And because you tried your best, and because it wasn’t good enough, you’d somehow find yourself alone on the patio, the cold air infiltrating your lungs, the warmth in your shaking hands never leaving. 

You had hoped a breath of fresh air would rid you of everything you were feeling — before him, during him, and after him. 

So you took one breath after the other, hoping and hoping. 

And he would have seen you make your way from the crowds, his eyes never quite drifting far from you, whether he intended them to or not was something he would often think about later on. He followed you, blind and willing. 

And that’s how he came to stand in front of you, first saying nothing and then not knowing what to say after all. So instead, he shrugged off the leather jacket you once said you loved and placed it over the shoulders he had once kissed. And it was as if you never hated his smile, or his kind eyes. And it was as if you were almost hopeful everything would not go according to plan and you would see him. 

“Thank you.” 

You whispered, slowly pulling your arms through the sleeves because the mere thought of taking off the jacket and handing it back to him only encouraged the uneasiness growing in your body. It was a cold night after all. He nodded, his smile growing and falling back to its original state ever so quickly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

He did. He made sure of it. Of course, he’d never tell you this. And you’d never ask. 

“Well, here I am.” 

You smiled, genuine. 

“Here you are.” 

He smiled, comforted. 

He shuffled on his feet before sitting on the wooden bench beside you, his eyes ever so slightly falling to the space beside him and then lifting up back to you. Your smile faltered, having understood his dilemma and now having to face your own.

You weren’t supposed to see him. 

But thus far, you have noticed how his brown hair is now blonde, how the necklace around his neck looked almost too similar to the one you’d gifted him a few years ago, how he seems lighter — perhaps happier, perhaps intoxicated, you weren’t quite sure what it was exactly. 

You weren’t supposed to see him. 

But you did. 

If you were to excuse yourself, taking one last look at his hopeful smile and welcoming eyes, resisting the urge to hold his face in your hands and feel the warmth on his cheeks, you’d leave him and he’d watch from the bench he sat on. You’d find your friend, on the verge of melting down with a facade of confidence on display. She’d hold you, you’d congratulate her, she’d notice your demise and apologize before placing a kiss on your cheek. 

You’d go home, and you’d cry. And then after too much thinking, maybe you’d regret not sitting down on that bench. 

So you breathed a deep breath, settling down beside him with just enough space to contain your scattered thoughts away from his lingering eyes. Because he had perfect pitch when it came to you; he’d recognize any note you’d give him. 

That was before. And you’d only come to acknowledge your predicament when his thigh slightly brushed against yours and his touch felt colder than the faint wind blowing against your skin. 

It was never this cold, and you were suddenly saddened by the distinction.

Saddened by longing, saddened by regret, saddened by unfamiliarity – you couldn’t quite tell what it was that brought you to quiver into your skin, to press your nails into the palms of your hands to elicit pain, because at least you’d understand the origin of such discomfort in the midst of your disorientated state; vulnerable, disappointed, relieved. 

You had broken every rule you had set for yourself thus far — you saw him, you smile at him, you speak to him, you breathe him – his scent lingering on your body with the weight of his jacket, and you no longer tried to hold your breath.  

These things once embedded in your nature and now dependent on your instinct. 

One can only grow cold in forced familiarity. 

And still, he smiles at you – slight and soft. He faces forward and lets out a sigh that dissipates into the air in a white hue and all of a sudden you’re thinking maybe the only thing making you cold is the cool breeze grazing your cheek. 

How easily he persuades you to find optimism in the most pessimistic of states. How easily you fall into the pursuit, willing and all. 

And just when you are reminded of the distaste in the back of your throat, you catch sight of the singular pearl centred near his collarbones, the shine of its opacity almost teasing you under the white light of the moon.

You once thought it was pretty like him, he thanked you with a kiss and a promise to never take it off. 

How silly of him to fulfill such a promise. 

How silly of you to catch his eyes and fail to look away.

Your third glass of wine remained tucked between your fingers and your words remained tucked behind your lips. Both, untouched and craving for attention. 

“I never got to congratulate you on finishing your Masters.” 

You blinked, lips parting every so slightly before a chuckle brushed away the significance of his words. “Not something that needs congratulating.” You managed to say, his face contorting in disbelief. 

“Now that is the understatement of the year.” He protested, arms crossing against his chest while he shook his head in amusement. It was. You knew it. As did he. If anyone could testify to the series of struggles you had experienced throughout your masters, it was Felix. 

A shoulder to cry on. Open arms to celebrate. Kisses of encouragement. Words of comfort. He did it all. He went above and he went beyond. So yes, it was something to congratulate. Who were you to downplay his efforts. Who were you to downplay your own. 

“Thank you.” You said, barely audible. Still, he heard you for he smiled, satisfied. 

“Australias been good to you?” You continued, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. On cue, he turned away from you, his chest fully rising before sinking back down. “Yeah....yeah it has, more than what I could ask for.” He admitted, his arms falling to his lap, fingers tangling with one another. 

“That’s good.” You looked away from him. “I know you missed it alot.” 

You could feel your arms begin to tense, his jacket no longer defending you from the low temperature of the night. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was cold.

“I think I have the tendency to miss a lot of things.” He stated. 

“That’s only normal—” You met his eyes, and you suddenly felt the need to cry. For you recognized what it was to long for someone, the feeling settling in the back of your mind when he first entered the house. The same feeling flowing to your chest, then to your stomach and now to your eyes. Your eyes that reflected his. You recognized what it was to long for someone in him, as he looked at you. 

“I'm relieved actually.” A hand lifted from his lap, the back of his fingers gracing your cheek sending warmth throughout your face. “It was as if there was something about you that I couldn’t quite remember.” He retracted his hand, almost hyper aware of his actions led by his sentiment. The gentleness in your voice, the face you made when you were about to cry, the way your whole body shook when you laughed — he wasn’t quite sure what it was. But you were here now, and he no longer had to reach into his memories to maintain these details, to maintain you. 

“That happens.” You spoke softly acknowledging the absence of his touch more than you wished to. “It's been two years Felix.” He looked at you, the corners of his lips slightly downwards before they lifted into a fine line. “It's only been two years Y/n.” 

You said nothing — fingers numb, glass wine in hands, tears ready to fall, mind a mess, heart longing. He continued to stare at you — fingers aching to hold, skin cold to touch, necklace forever in place, head clouded, heart hopeful. 

“You left (me).”

“I did.”

“Do you regret it?”

“When I think about you, yes.”

“Do you regret not coming (with me)?”

“When I miss you, yes.”

AN: A gentle or not so gentle reminder that this is written fanfiction. xoxo This was in my drafts for a year or so, totally inspired from the song 'about you' by The 1975. Hope you enjoy my intepretation of the song. Happy holidays! Cheers to a colourful and beautiful year :)

𝙎𝙏RAy𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍r★

[radiostaticlive]

Tim did not wake up in his bed. No, he woke up a dirty alley in the heart of Crime Alley.

Tim, hand pressed over his ear: Oracle, can you fill me in.

Silence. Not even static.

Tim looks down for the first time and notices he’s not in consume. He’s not Red Robin, but Tim Drake. And pointy does not have any of his equipment on him.

What the heck. He was pretty sure he was fighting the Penguin earlier. Had that bird knocked him out and strip him?

No. No, he’s in the same clothes he put on the morning before. The same clothes that he wore to that stupid W.E meeting.

Tim, muttering to himself as he slowly leaves the alley: Ok. Ok calm down Tim. You can figure this out.

He pats himself down, looking for his phone to call the cave. He finds it, noticeably cracked but still functional.

No signal.

Tim: Just my luck. Looks like I have to walk home.

When Tim gets to the entrance of the cave he finds it sealed shut. Like glued to the seems with concrete shut.

Ok. That’s ok. Tim’s siblings prank him all the time. This is nothing new. Just incredibly inconvenient.

Takes him an additional 20 minutes but he’s finally in the cave, thanks to one of the multiple entrances. Thank god for Bruce and his paranoia.

“As you can see here. Batman had a tool for pretty much anything and everything. “

Tim froze at the unknown voice in the cave. Sticking to the shadows he crept forward to peer inside without being seen.

The cave looked sterile. Velvet rope blocked off the Bat computer, and off to the side a table was out displaying case files and Bat-a-rings.

What the.

“And if you look over here, you can see what our hero’s wore to protect our great city.” The same voice drew Tim’s attention to the group of people in the middle of the room.

They looked like tourists. Cameras out, faces a mixer of intrigued excitement or boredom. They were fallowing a lady, presumably the tour guide, to there Jason’s memorial was.

Tim was quick to sneak into the back of the group and act like he was just another bored teenager. He had to figure out what was going on and if that meant touring his own house, so be it.

Tour guide: And here we are. The Robins. the boy, or girl, Wonders. Now there were a total of 5 robins, but Stephane Brown only hold the mantle for a short time. In order the Robins were first, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.

This isn’t good. First some lady was giving a tour of the Batcave of all places and now she knows their names. And she just told about 20 people and god who knows how many more.

She knows.

She told.

Everyone knows.

Fuck.

Ok, maybe the bats went into hiding? That had to be what happened. But then why would they leave Tim? Did they think he was dead?

The tour went on. The guide went on and on about things that didn’t really matter or were completely inaccurate. Tim was trying not to freak out the longer it went on.

Finally the group went to the elevator, except the small 2 passenger elevator was replaced with one of those big ones that could hold a large group of people.

The manor proper was very much in the same state as the cave. Things were roped off while other items were displayed. It made his head hurt.

Tapping the shoulder of the guy next to him.

Tim: Hey, do you remember what the name of this place is?

Guy: Uh, yeah kid. Kinda hard with the cheesy name.

Tim: Which is? Sorry bad memory.

Guy: The Bat- Museum. Seriously kid. I know that this stuff is boring but you gotta learn your history. The Bats were good people.

Tim, trying not to show the panic at the perfect that he’s been hearing all day.

Tim: Yeah you’re right.

Thankfully the cave seemed to be the end of the tour as the guide lead them to the main foyer.

Tim in all his panic glory, ran out the doors the minute people were leaving.

Muttering a desperate plead to any god in the universe.

Tim: Please don’t be right. Please don’t be right. Please don’t be dead.

With all the stealth his shaking form could do, Tim makes his was around the Manor to the secluded privet cemetery.

Tim’s heart dropped in his chest. Even at a distance he could make out several graves in the once nearly empty lot.

Not bothering with the gate, Tim climbed and hosted himself over landing hard on the ground.

But he

Did

Not

Care.

Tears unwilling fell from his eyes as he read the names on the new graves.

His family’s names.

On sleek marble.

Dead.

Even Alfred had his own stone. Right next to Bruce, like he always did. Like he forever will do now.

Tim stared blankly at his own grave that was in the middle of Steph’s and Jason’s. The one he crawled out of. But not this time.

In loving memory of Timmothy Drake- Wayne

Beloved son, friend and hero.

“Reach for the stars chum.” - Bruce Wayne, adopted father

Tim fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

He failed.

He failed them.

Again.

He couldn’t protect his family a second time. What a worthless “hero” he was. He couldn’t even die right!

White light surrounded Tim’s crying form.

Phantom stood, tears still falling down his face.

With one last look at the graves around him, he flew up and away from Gotham.

Away from the city he failed.

Just like Amity.