#trying to catch a glimpse of a breakdown or something

[wernerherzogs]

.

[revelboo]

oof ouch ough that angst HURT please madam i'm begging you don't make that canon i'm gonna puke if i have to watch all the idw bots suffer like that - oh god and the tiny baby newsparks would be doomed, either their carriers will die trying to sustain them or they'll fade away, i hate it!!!!

you even used my suggestion of kitten-twins against me... ow. to heal my heart, may i request more of cyclonus and tailgate? hopefully their human's fear will fade into numbness then acceptance quickly, it'll be hard to stay in hypervigilant prey mode when tailgate's doting on reader like a little princess.

Yeah, that angst fic isn’t cannon. I like drama, but I couldn’t actually do that to any of them.

Chain Me Free Pt 3

Tailgate x Reader x Cyclonus

• The terror had faded some after seeing the smaller robot monster, Tailgate you remind yourself, have a nervous breakdown because you were upset. That uneasy fear is still there, nerves jangling, but Tailgate seems bent on overwhelming you with attention until you’re too frazzled to be terrified. You half suspect he’s decided you’re either his personal teddy bear or a beloved puppy. Neither prospect particularly awesome. Legs swinging as you hang on to the arm around your middle tucking you against his frame while he jogs to keep up with the scary one’s, Cyclonus’s, longer stride. Though after watching him calming Tailgate and talking him through what you’re positive was a panic attack, you suspect he’s probably a big softy. Even if he spends a lot of time just frowning at you, they’ve yet to hurt you. That has to be a good sign.

• “Cyclonus, wait up.” Reaching out his free hand, he catches Cyclonus’s hand and the bigger mech finally slows down for him. Interlacing his servos with Cyclonus’s, he shifts you to settle on his hip, feeling those warm hands on his arm. “How are they supposed to get their bearings if you go through the ship so fast?” Can feel your little heart beating against him, the rhythm oddly soothing. Knows Cyclonus is annoyed with him, wanted to give you to someone else, but you’d come to him. Them. And he can’t believe that it was truly random, wants it to be more than a coincidence. That you’re meant to be with them.

• “If you ever let them actually walk, they’ll probably get under ped,” he mutters, feeling Tailgate’s servos tighten on his own in offense. You’re not screaming at least, just dangling and looking around with an almost dazed expression. Still in shock over finding yourself in a strange place among aliens. Feels sorry for you, but he has enough to deal with taking care of Tailgate. Doesn’t need an alien stray.

• “Being small doesn’t automatically make someone a burden,” Tailgate growls, shifting you on his hip again. Like you’re a toddler and his grip is much too tight. Looking around, you feel almost numb, because his rambling explanation had only made things worse. You’re on a ship in space hurtling away from your home and they don’t know when they’ll be able to get you back. They also can’t fully explain how you’d ended up here, your brain filing his excited jabbering under ‘magic.’ And you tense when you see an even bigger gray mech, but it’s the glimpse of a human cradled in his palm, holding onto his servos as he cups them to his chassis that startles you. That person smiling up at the giant and laughing at something he’s said before spotting you and waving with a grin. And they seem okay. That more than anything else breaks through the lingering fear as your own hand weakly lifts, then they’re gone, carried away by their mech.

• “I’m not going to run if you let me walk,” you say, head turning to look at him and Tailgate hesitates. Because as much as he hates it, Cyclonus has a point. Not all the bots on board remember to look down and you’re tiny. Much smaller than he is. “You’re squishing me a bit,” you add, expression pinched and he stops in dismay, awkwardly shuffling you until one of his arms is behind your back and the other behind your knees. “This works,” you murmur and you offer him a hesitant smile that spreads warm through him as he ignores Cyclonus’s tired venting.

Previous

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[passengerprincessblog]

“Lewis, Next Door”~ pt 1 Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: age gap, alcohol?

Summary: Coming home from university, Y/N expects a quiet reunion with family—until she finds herself face-to-face with the enigmatic Lewis Hamilton, her dad’s famous neighbor and friend. What starts as a dull evening soon turns unexpectedly electric when Lewis offers more than just small talk.

I hadn’t been home all semester. Between studying, late-night group projects, and the occasional breakdown, the past few months at uni had been… a lot. I’d pushed through, and even though I’d missed my parents, there was something about finishing this term that made me feel a little invincible. I was finally here, though, bags slung over my shoulder as I hugged my mom in the doorway and let my dad ruffle my hair in that way he always did.

Home sweet home.

After the greetings and settling in, I noticed someone else was around. Our neighbor, Lewis Hamilton, was back too. Usually, he was off racing, so it was a rare sight. I wasn’t someone who followed F1 religiously, but I knew Lewis was a big deal—and the whole “dad’s friend” thing only made it more surreal. The few times we’d run into each other, I’d been struck by how effortlessly confident he was. Attractive? Absolutely. Intimidating? Without a doubt. But, honestly, I’d never thought much beyond that. He was just Lewis, the neighbor.

That night, my dad was throwing a big party to celebrate his latest product launch. Fancy guests, fancy decorations, fancy everything—the whole nine yards. I’d barely unpacked, and here I was, getting ready to play dress-up and smile politely for a parade of strangers. My friends were out clubbing tonight, living it up, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. But I loved my dad, so here I was, hair styled, makeup on point, feeling like I’d stepped into someone else’s life for the night.

As the party got into full swing, I did my best to stay interested, though I kept glancing at my phone, imagining my friends dancing somewhere with loud music and neon lights. Instead, I was here, weaving through clusters of my dad’s colleagues. He was chatting with a group of important-looking men, so I took my chance and approached him, feeling like a little kid again as I asked, “Can I please just have one drink?”

He shot me a disapproving look. “No. You know the answer.”

“Fine,” I muttered, trying not to let my frustration show. I wandered around a bit, catching snippets of adult conversation that were all about business deals and tax write-offs. Glamorous.

Finally, I spotted a lonely champagne glass on a table. I glanced around, and with a little thrill of rebellion, I picked it up, taking a sip. It was cold and crisp, and even though I’d never been a huge fan of champagne, it felt like a tiny slice of freedom. A few more sips, and I was actually starting to relax.

That’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, and there he was—Lewis, giving me a knowing smile.

“I see you like my drink?” he teased, eyes glinting with amusement.

My stomach dropped. Oh god, I’d taken his champagne? “Oh my god. I’m so sorry… I didn’t know… I can get you a new one if you want, I just—”

He chuckled, shaking his head. His laugh was low and warm, and something about it made me relax, just a bit. “Nah, I’m messing with you. It’s fine. I don’t even really drink anyways.” He grinned, flashing a glimpse of a gold grill that made him look both mischievous and effortless, a vibe that seemed distinctly Lewis.

I managed a shy nod, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands. “Oh… good. Thanks.” I couldn’t believe I was so nervous. But he just kept looking at me, his gaze both curious and relaxed.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You bored? I’m so bored. No offense to your dad, of course.”

I let out a laugh, surprised at how blunt he was. “It’s boring,” I admitted, feeling a little guilty, but somehow knowing he understood. He had this whole wild, glamorous life, and a party like this was probably as dull as watching paint dry for him.

“So, what? You’re back from uni, huh? That’s crazy. I remember when you were like, ten,” he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

I feel my cheeks heat up with a pang of embarrassment. Here I was, feeling all cool and grown up, and he still saw me as a kid. Great.

“Yep,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light but failing to hide the faint annoyance.

“Well, you’re better than me,” he shrugs. “I never finished school.” I glance at him, surprised he’s trying to keep this conversation going. Usually, we barely exchanged two words, and now, here we were, alone, talking like… friends? Something more? I didn’t know.

“Well… yeah, but you’re a millionaire,” I say, trying to sound casual, though there’s a little hint of playfulness in my voice. I’m not exactly flirting, but maybe a little. Just testing the waters.

He raises an eyebrow, smiling at me but seeming almost uncomfortable at the mention of his money. He shrugs again. “You’re not exactly struggling either,” he teases back.

Was… that a flirt? Or was I just imagining it? It’s just the way he said it, the way his gaze lingers a moment longer than it should. My pulse quickens, but I try to play it cool.

“No… not exactly,” I say, catching his hint and matching his tone. I glance around, making a point about how dull this party is. “Just right now.”

He chuckles, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe next time, you come to one of my parties,” he says. It sounds more like a command than an invitation, like he’s decided I’ll be there.

I nod softly, trying to hide the thrill in my expression. He’s really inviting me? He seems amused, almost as if my reaction is endearing.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say with a slight shrug, finishing off the champagne. I feel his eyes on me, and when I look up, he’s studying me, like he’s considering something.

Then he breaks into a grin. “I could give you my number,” he says, casual but direct.

I raise an eyebrow, trying to mask the excitement bubbling up. “Oh?”

“So you can tell me next time you’re bored,” he adds, giving me a cheeky wink.

I feel my cheeks flush as I pull out my phone. He takes it from me, putting his number in. My hands are shaking just a bit when he hands it back.

“There,” he says with that familiar grin. “Now you’ll be set.”

“Cool. Thanks,” I say, somehow managing to keep my voice steady. Inside, though, I feel my heart racing.

He glances back at the party, then back at me, giving me one last wink. “I should probably go talk to your dad. See you around, Y/N.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me standing there, still holding the empty champagne glass, my mind spinning. His number. His number. A part of me feels like I’m floating.

———————————

Oo La La 🙈

Lmk of you like?!!??

Like and follow 💜

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Air 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect and abuse, bullying, body shaming and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re forced to return home after a nervous breakdown.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stay in your room. Rather the repurposed guest room. It's as much as you expect. Hiding from your mother. What you coudn't expect, or predict, is the house guest who has you similarly meek.

You wiggle your fingers and tear your hands away from your throat. You can feel his grip still. Even alone. And the way he rubbed against you. Grinded even.

You roll onto your side and watch the moonlight between the space of the curtains. You feel heavy, like the air is mud, like you're made of stone. You close your eyes and sink.

Your mother is right. You're a failure. You blew it all. All you had to do was better. All you had to do was wait and cry in your hotel room. What's wrong with you? A whole lifetime burnt up in a fireball.

The low moan cuts through your self-pity. At first, you think it's the wind. Then it comes again, followed by something else. Something deeper. The grunting is steady, almost rhythmic, building louder and louder, as the softer tones grow sharp.

Your cheeks are alight at the realisation of what's going on on the other side of that wall. Those things that are mysterious to you. You see them on screen, glimpses edited down to snuggles and writhing beneath blankets. It's just another thing you missed. Another thing left behind for the music.

You sit up as you feel a tingling in your stomach. Your fingertips are hollow. You trip as the blankets catch around your leg and stumble to the door.

It's louder in the hall. You hear the clapping of flesh. Your mother's voice sounds pained. You hurry away with your hands over your ears.

You rush down the stairs and throw out your arms before you can tumble down. You cling to the banister as you descend and get to the bottom, breathless. You stand alone in the dark, the distant noises sounding between your shallow panting.

You find your way to the French doors and escape onto the veranda. You're shaking as you step out into the evening hue. The moonlight pools in the birdbath and gleams along the crystal surface of the patio table. You sit on the cushioned bench against the wall and sigh.

You don't belong... anywhere. You never really have. You always watched the kids in the schoolyard and cafeteria from the sidelines. You always sat behind your cello until your fingers bled, pausing only to watch through the window, until your mom hollered at you to keep going. Even as an adult, travelling as a musician, you never did more than watch. The others avoided you and laughed at you. You didn't get their jokes. They called you weird.

You hang your head and clasp your hands in your lap. You don't remember the fit. They said you hurt yourself. You have the scabs to prove it. A cut in your forearm, bandaged and healing. A sliver of the cello dug deep. You shrug. You remember so little and what you can dig out, means nothing. It's not scary or sad. It's just what happened.

That man though. He is scary. You pull your hands apart and curl up your fingers. You listen to the trees sway, hear the night birds call, the bats flap in the sky. Everything around you is like music but quickly distorts to a cacophony.

You close your eyes and focus on breathing. The doctor told you to do that. Right before he wrote the prescription. You forgot to take the pills. If you had, you'd be sleeping by now.

The breeze stirs around you and ruffles the loose pantlegs of your linen pajamas. Goosebumps rise on your skin and a shiver rolls up your spine. A sigh breaks the nightly lull at once.

"Ah," Lloyd heaves out air and you hear a crack. You blink and look at him as he stretches his neck. He stands in the moonlight, stark naked and shameless. "Nice night, huh, sweetie pie?"

He puts his hands on his hips and you divert your gaze to the ground. The grooves of his muscles along his back cling in your mind as you try not to thick of lower down. He groans and stretches his arms above him.

"Was starting to get a cramp," he chortles and turns. Your face sets ablaze as you stare at the wooden panels. "I'm all sweaty."

He struts in front of you and drops down onto the bench next to you. He leans back as you sit forward. He rests his arm across the back. You grip the edge of the seat but can't stand. He slaps his hand down on your thighs and digs his fingertips into your flesh.

"And where are you going?" He slides closer.

"Sorry, I... just wanted some fresh air."

"Ah, ah, come on, baby, don't run away from daddy already. I'm all done my warm up," he leans into you and nuzzles your hair. "I'm all ready for my real work out."

You push his hand off of you and jump up. You stagger and his hand slips down your arm as he reaches for you. You hit the table in your panic and wince as you grab your hip.

"Better watch where you're going, sweetie pie. Those thighs are deadly." He snickers.

You turn and look at him, terrified. He sits calmly as his hand moves in his lap. He smirks.

"Well, you gonna stay and help me get a third round in or--"

You don't wait for him to finish. You break into a sprint. You pass through the door, feet slapping loudly, reminding you of the noises from before, and you race back up the stairs. Your heart is pounding. Like when those girls in high school chased you into the bathroom and you hid in the end stall. They ended up dumping toilet water on you over the top of the wall.

You burst through the guestroom door and slam it without a care. You hurdle to the bed and wrap yourself in the blankets, like a kid that believes they can hide from the monster under the bed. If you don't move, he can't get you.

🎻

You fall into a daze as the curtains glow with the slowly breaking dawn. Your head is swimming. Your eyes roll back on their own and you drift away into a grey oblivion. You forget all that came before. You're floating in a void, untouchable.

The escape is brief. At once, you're forced back to reality. The duvet is torn off of you as cold air washes over your bare arms. You push yourself up and stare at your mother's furious face.

"There you are!" She snarls.

"Mother, I--"

"No, you shut up! You listen to me!" She sneers. "You're not going to lay around in my house like a lump. You are going to get to work! I did not sacrifice all the time, all blood, all the sleep for you to be nothing." She puts a knee on the bed and grabs your shoulders, shaking you, "do you understand me?"

You bite your tongue and whimper. You babble as you latch onto her wrists to stop her. She doesn't. She digs her nails in and drags you to the edge of the bed.

"You are going to get your old cello and you are going to start practicing!"

"Mother, I can't--"

"Don't tell me what you can't do!" She barks and lets you go, pointing her almond-shaped nail in your face. "You are going to work and you will get another seat."

"Mother, please," you gulp as your eyes sear. "I just can't."

You shudder and grip your knees. The thought of lifting a bow makes you sick. You shake your head as your eyes sting.

"To hell you can't. Years of lessons, rehearsals, concerts--" She claps at you. "Are you listening to me?"

Your head bobbles as you look around. Your chest racks and your ribs ache. You can't breathe. You feel the fracture slowly forming your brain. No, no, you can't.

"Lovey dovey," the drawl keeps your mother from shaking you again. "There you are. Oh, hope I'm not interrupting. I was just thinking, it's our first morning together. All of us. How about we make it special?"

"Lloyd," your mother spins and fixes her posture. She simpers and softens her voice, "that is so lovely of you to suggest but I'm fasting. You know that, darling."

"You are? You had quite a bit of wine last night," he counters.

"Are you counting?" She bristles.

"Of course not, dear," he winks and his eyes flit past her, to you. "The alcohol always adds to the fun, doesn't it?"

"We were just having a talk, about the future," she preens.

"Sure you were," he saunters closer. "Look, if you're fasting, that's your thing. I'm fucking starving." He slaps his stomach, "how about it, sweetie pie?" He shoulders past her. "You like grand slams? Sunny side up?"

You stare at him. You don't know how to answer. You mother turns slowly and glares at you.

"I don't know..."

"Of course, she can go with you," she squeezes Lloyd arm. "Don't let me get in the way. Besides, I need my space." She fans herself dramatically, "I'm still... so devastated about everything."

"Right," he smirks at you and tucks his thumbs into his pockets. "It'll be good. Get to know the prodigy. Maybe give her a pep talk." He tilts his head. "You know, Kat, everyone needs a strong male role model. You really can't blame her."

"I know you'll talk some sense into her," your mother puts her hand to her forehead. "I need to lay down."

"Don't blame ya. Still feelin' it, huh?" He slaps her ass and snickers. Your eyes widen.

"Oh, Lloyd," she giggles. "You're so naughty."

"You know it," he winks at you. "Me and junior will have a nice heart to heart."

"Enjoy. Don't let her have the waffles," your mother stops at the door and looks back. "She doesn't need any more sugar."

You look down at your thighs and gently touch the cushion around your stomach. She hates everything about you. Down to the hair. You listen to her swish away in her satin robe.

"Well, baby," he pushes his crotch out as he bounces on his toes. "You gonna go like that?" He looks you up and down. "Not sure the nips are family friendly."

You look down and quickly cover your chest, the thin fabric pointed from beneath. You crawl to the opposite side and stand. You go to your bag and stall, glancing over at him as he watches you. You look at the door.

"Aren't you going to..." you begin.

"Ah, sweetie, don't be shy. We're gonna be in close quarters from now on."

You stare at him. "I can't--"

"You can. Come on. Get something pretty on for daddy."

You choke on your tongue. "What?"

"You need help?" He nears the foot of the bed and you nearly fall over.

"No, no, I can..." you turn your back to him and cringe.

You're weak. Pathetic. Everything your mother ever claimed. You can't make him go away and she wouldn't either.

You unzip your suitcase and sniffle. You pull out a pair of jeans.

"Ugh, you got any skirts in there? With those thighs; mm, mm, mm," he growls.

"No, I don't--"

"Well, we'll have to change that. Make a pit stop and get you something cute on the way back," he insists. "Whatever, I'm hungry. Hurry up, thunder thighs."

You wince and find a ruffly polka dot top. You lay it on the suitcase and untie the string of your pants. You tremble as you push the waistband down. You're humiliated. Not just by his presence but his words. You hate when people call you that.

You step out of your pajamas and whimper. Your panties. You can't leave the same ones on. They feel dirty.

You steel yourself and strip off your underwear. You're as quick as you can to pull on the new pair but trip and nearly tumble onto your bag. He lets out a gritty breath. You put your bra on under your shirt before you take it off. Finally dressed, you can't bring yourself to face him.

"Shit, was hoping to see the tits a bit more but I can wait," he chortles. You don't move. He sighs and snaps his fingers. "Well, let's get going. You don't wanna deal with me when I'm hungry and horny."

[bloodwrittenletters]

FALL IN LOVE

pairing . . . michael townsend x fem!reader

the cassette playing . . . i told you things! gracie abrams

the letter reads . . . comforting the boy who owned your heart turned out to be harder than catching a serial killer.

warnings . . . tiny bit of angst, mentions of blood and injuries, one curse word, some suggestive comments.

a/n . . . sooo... I know I should be posting something else, but this lovely boy has been consuming my thoughts, so for now, michael townsend everyone!! I love him so much. I just had to write this, this sorta contains spoilers (?) so if you haven't read the naturals, be aware!! i tried to make it as tiny as possible, but yeah, it's still a spoiler 🫡🫡 enjoy! 🫶

@reidsglasscs shout out to the angel who told me to pick the series, i love you so much my lovely girl

it seemed almost impossible how he couldn't stay still. michael had been hurt, like, seriously hurt. his body had been home of two bullets for what seemed— at least to you, years.

you weren't even there to witness the whole thing, but the moment you had catched a glimpse of your boyfriend's body with blood leaking out you had been hysterical.

in a snap of a finger you were breaking down, trying to fight away every single person who got in your way to find michael, and cursing every single person that ever wronged your boyfriend— because it seemed like the most rational thing to do in your breakdown of desperation and worry.

that had been almost five weeks ago. now, your brain was worried about him not staying still for a moment.

"michael, please, lay down," you tried to coax him into the bed, following him easily through the house as he limped.

because he refused to use the dammed crouches.

"oh, please, dove, i'm gettin' sick of laying down," he threw you a smile, stopping for a moment before turning to the stairs.

"michael alexander thomas townsend, don't you dare!" your voice was loud and threatening, yet this only amuses michael.

he stops in his tracks and glances you through his shoulder, and your eyes catch on the almost invisible amused smile.

how mean of him.

"what? you gonna spank me for being bad?"

the brunette boy laughs when a pink hue invades your cheeks at his comments, and he almost, almost turns around to listen to your order.

he is one step closer to the first floor of the house when your voice stops him again.

"go back to your room, townsend."

there was a beat of silence where michael's actions twitched, like he was doubting if it was wise to listen to you.

"... no."

"michael," you pressed more firmly this time. "go back to your room."

he sighs. "yes, ma'am. going to my room."

he hops the step back and extends his arms towards you, asking for help. you huff, before walking until he hugged you tightly, his arms falling and melting around your body.

"you're taking advantage of this."

"yes, i am." michael's head dropped to your shoulder. he gave you an apologetic smile before kissing your cheek and taking back the arms that tangled around you, his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing gently over your nape as he helped himself hop back with your body.

"you shouldn't have left your crouches aside," you complained, hugging his waist close as the two of you slowly moved back to michael's room.

"i gotta get used to not having them," he sighed, leaning down to have his face closer to yours. "i can't depend on them forever."

"you're being stubborn," you huffed. "your wounds aren't even healed yet. you don't need to limp and hop around like a bunny with a hurt arm and leg to seem tough."

michael huffed, holding you a little more tighter, resting his chin on the crown of your head.

the two of you got to his room and pushed inside. when you tried to leave michael back in the safety of his bed, he dragged you down with him. making you lay under him, only to lay his head in your chest.

his ear listening closely to your beating heart.

"don't pout, tough guy, y'know you can be yourself around me," you said gently to him, one hand going to curl into his hair and the other to caress his back. "you don't gotta act cool, i know when you're bothered by things."

michael's eyes trail up to meet yours. his hazel irises make you melt. he smiles.

"you're not angry at me," his fingers play with a strand of your hair. "ya love me."

"of course i do, silly." you sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "but—"

"you worry too much," michael grumbled, dropping tiny kisses around your chest and shoulder. "hmmm, yeah, you're getting frustrated."

his thumb rubbed the tiny frown in your forehead, trying to ease it as he teased.

"don't you read me," you grabbed his hand and pushed it away, intertwining your fingers. "idiot."

michael giggled, shifting to lay fully atop of you, mocking the little gasp your body crafted. "i'm wounded, dove. you can't call me an idiot when i'm wounded."

"yet you can worry me? that's not fair."

michael rolled his eyes, pushing your hair away from your face.

"life's not fair, dove. grow up."

you scoffed, and before you could speak, he took the words from you.

"tut, tut," he stopped, tapping your forehead with his index finger. "you don't get to fight me right now, pretty girl. suck it up because i am deeply hurt."

"michael."

"hush, buttercup," he smiled devilishly. "the only reason i can heal is from kisses from my sweet dove!"

"you don't listen to your sweet dove," you hissed.

"yada, yada, kiss."

you sighed before cupping his cheeks and bringing his lips to yours, melting into his embrace.

you pulled away. michael pouted.

"you give me one more and i start using my crouches again."

"deal."

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter VII - Bona Dea

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Spoiler-Free Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. Both have taken vows that make sure their paths may never cross. Until they do.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 18k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, Smut, First Time, More tags to be added

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

i was supposed to upload this two days ago but silly me decided to have a mental breakdown instead. anyways, enjoy the new chapter ♡

bona dea - a goddess/her festival subligaculum - underwear

Chapter VII

The house is filled with the overpowering scent of strong wine and blooming flowers. Food and drink is being served, the atrium of the roman villa that belongs to the senior magistrate and his wife transformed into a place of worship as much as a place to celebrate.

The annual winter festival of Bona Dea, one of the most important (and as some argue, fun) nights of the year for the women of Rome. A tribute to the goddess that promises fertility along with chastity and healing, in return asking for her worshippers to hold the values of a good, roman wife. Her celebrations allow strong wine and sacrifices led by the Vestals and most importantly–ban all men from the villa and its grounds. Just laying eyes upon the holy celebration and the rites would be enough to condemn a man to a life of blindness.

It is so different from the worship you are used to from Vesta. She is quiet, a prayer whispered into the flames, the crackling noise of the wood, the only company for women who ask for safety and blessing on lonely nights.

You have barely been able to eat, despite the food seeming worthy of the gods. Bona Dea has always made you nervous, the prospect of trying to effortlessly fulfill the rituals that have been passed down from generations of women before you. But the prospect of meeting Acacius in mere hours had you trembling the moment you rose from your bed this morning. The hours seemed to tick by agonizingly slowly all day, making you wonder if the sun would ever set.

But it did. And with the early darkness of the winter night came the loss of appetite. And the later it becomes, the worse you feel. The comfortable anticipation starts mixing with an anxiety you’ve rarely felt before. Nothing can go wrong.

Of course, something goes wrong. When you reach the large front entrance of the atrium, the one you hoped to slip out of unnoticed after fulfilling your duties, is far too busy. The columns are decorated with skillfully woven vines, the entire room alight with candles and torches. A thin layer of smoke still hangs in the air from the rituals you conducted earlier, making the space feel even more sacred.

You settle on making another round, speaking some words here and there, disappearing into a crowd that has evidently already enjoyed the strong wine forbidden to them on other occasions. You catch a glimpse of Severa chatting animatedly with a few other women and duck away just in time to avoid attracting their attention.

It is already late, far later than you meant to leave. You know Acacius will be waiting. He has no rites to attend to tonight. Instead, he will be able to casually stroll out into his–

The gardens. Just like the other houses, there are spacious gardens attached to the villa you are currently trailing through. There has to be a way to slip out into that direction and get up Palatine Hill, which is rather close. Pretending to long for some fresh air, you step into the lush green, plants and trees imported from places where they do not wither in the winter. They lend themselves to your cause perfectly, barely allowing the guests inside to catch a glimpse of your white stola as you tread the small paths, the light around you becoming less and less. You slip past a few trees, fight your way through bushes–and are met with solid stone. Of course. A wall to keep out everyone who tries to sneak into the gardens. Or in your case, sneak out of them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Heading back inside, finding another way–it will take too long. He could be gone by then. With a small shake of your head, you step forward and let your hands run over the cold stone. The moon is hiding behind clouds, giving you essentially no light to work with. Still, you somehow manage to find two crevices to tuck your fingers into and pull yourself up. Panting slightly once you've heaved yourself up onto the stone wall, you look back for a brief moment, catching a glimpse of the lit up villa through the trees, listening to the voices and music drifting over to you.

Suddenly, it feels like you're looking down upon your whole life, like you are seeing yourself from the perspective of the gods you so worship. You try and think of something to hold you back, any excuse to just jump back into the gardens and have no one ever be the wiser about the ideas in your head. You think about the dishonor you may bring to the Vestals, to your family. To him. The punishment they would settle on. The whispers that would follow you, even after death.

You try and think of a good reason to stay. But not a thought comes to mind.

So, you jump down on the side that leads further down the path and up to the house with the lavender gardens, a path you do not wish to leave now that you’ve started walking it. Even if it leads straight down to hell.

***

Acacius sighs quietly as he gets up from the bench he sat down on what feels like hours ago. His mind is as restless as his body, his head spinning a different direction every time the wind carries the sound of what could be someone sneaking toward him through the night. The statue of Mars stands quietly next to him as he begins to pace back and forth, eventually expanding his rounds onto the stairs. Up. Down. Have you changed your mind? Back. Forth. An invisible tug of war with the thoughts racing through his head.

The small pavilion is lit by only a few candles, providing just enough light to see but not enough to shimmer too far through the trees. On Bona Dea, the whole town below is alight with the celebrations of the women. Song, Chatter and Light travelling through the night air, distractions that lay like a shroud around your meeting. A protection not unlike your veil. An indication that what lays below is not to be touched–an indication he so desperately longs to ignore.

It's not any sound that makes him turn his head. It is an instinct that he cannot name that has him turn towards the path below. And there you are. Looking almost like a ghost, dressed in a festive, white stola that swishes around your body as you hurry the last few steps, the top of your head crowned by the very veil he just saw in his mind. And he suddenly feels like he cannot wait a second longer.

Acacius meets you halfway up the stairs, his arms sliding around your waist like they belong there. Like a child resting its head in their mothers lap, like a soldier returning to his village after the war. Like the most natural homecoming, a nestling of a body against that of its lover.

“Acacius–” You whisper his name, a relief that it can finally fall from your lips again. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

He hums quietly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your side. “I would wait all night for you, Dulcissima.” He cannot see the blush that spreads over your cheeks but he can hear it in the small breath that escapes you. “May I?”

Keeping one arm firm around your waist, he leads you up the stairs, towards Mars who stares into the distance. Unlike the stone eyes of the statue that are forced to stare at one point on the horizon for eternity, Acacius’s eyes never leave you. Even when he leans down to the small tray he brought along earlier, grabbing a glass filled with red wine and handing it to you, he keeps his focus on you. You barely get to whisper a thank you before a frown spreads over his face. “What happened to your dress?”

“I had to climb the garden wall,” you mutter sheepishly, embarrassed that your original plan has so clearly gone awry. He watches as you take a sip of the wine before you continue. “I will clean it in the morning, it is not worth speaking of.”

Acacius doesn't agree. It feels like another thing he's making you do. A visual representation of the way he is soiling you, tainting your beautiful white gown with reminiscents of the dirt and grime that stains his armour after returning from battle. “It is my turn for apologies. You should not have to–”

He is shut up by your lips coming to rest on his. He can taste the red wine he picked out for tonight and by the gods, he does not think there is anything he likes more. Picking out what you taste like for him.

There is a small tremor in your body, an insecurity that he immediately recognizes as inexperience. He sighs into the kiss at that, his taunt muscles finally relaxing as he blindly reaches behind himself, finding the stone bench and lowering both of you onto it, never breaking your kiss. Sweet. You just taste so sweet.

He allows you to dictate the pace, only pulling back when you do, your breath coming in short pants. His forehead rests against yours as he reaches down to take his own glass, nudging you until you toast him, glass against glass creating a light melody that fades as quickly as it has appeared. You both drink in silence, only the distant noises of the celebrations and those of the garden around you reaching your ears. 

“May I ask you something?” He hums, his voice low in his throat as he watches you raise your wine to your lips, the flames of the candles reflecting in the glass and liquid, sending smooth shadows over your face. At your nod, he continues. “Why did you ask to meet tonight? Bona Dea must mean a lot to you.”

You smile softly, though there is still a hint of nervousness present in your eyes. “The gods are busy looking down onto the feasts.” It is the unspoken part of your response that makes Acacius feel almost light-headed. If the goddesses eyes are truly on the feasts happening in the city, they are too busy to see you under the cover of darkness. One of his hands is still supporting your waist and he uses the other to set his glass down again before coming up to caress your ankle. A sliver of skin pokes out from under your stola, giving him a taste of what is waiting below the linen and silk that you are wrapped in. He feels you lean in, a hand gently coming to rest on his shoulder for support as he maneuvers you onto his left leg. In one smooth motion, Acacius runs his calloused hand past the hem of your stola and up your calf. You shiver, shifting slightly. “Acacius–”

It's somewhere between a whisper and a begging command. He forces himself to pause, his hand resting on your knee, the fabric of your dress bunched up around his forearm. “Do you want me to stop?” You shake your head silently. And he decides that maybe, he can push a bit further. “Is this why you wanted to meet?”

He can practically see you pause, your eyes flickering nervously back and forth. He may be completely wrong. It may not even have occurred to you–this. That you could do this. Because technically, you can’t.

“Maybe,” you whisper and he smiles at the subtle hint in your tone that sounds less like a maybe and more like a yes. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't have the same train of thought. He just didn't expect you to want him like this. Hell, he barely expected you to show up. Not with how much you are both risking.

“I’m sure you know–” you whisper as his hand travels further, slowly but surely inching up your thigh. “That Vestals are sworn to celibacy.”

He gives as gentle a squeeze as he can, watching with a smirk as you bite your lip, stopping yourself from letting out a noise. God, how he wants to hear that noise. How he wants all of Rome to hear the noise, wants to hear his name fall from your lips as he gives you the pleasure you've been denied your entire life.

“There are other ways,” he muses, his thumb trailing over the edge of what he assumes to be a subligaculum covering your most private area. “Other ways of pleasure.” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his hand gently rubbing over the soft skin of your inner thigh, not quite crossing the invisible threshold yet. “Dont tell me you have not discovered any of them?”

This time, he can watch as the blush spreads over your cheeks and down toward your throat. His gaze softens slightly. “You do not have to tell me, if you do not wish to.” Acacius sighs quietly, his eyes watchful, trying to gauge if he's gone too far. If he should retreat. “Does this feel good? We do not have to–” He can feel himself stumbling over his words. “I do not wish to force myself upon you. We do not have to do anything if you are not ready.”

“What if I'm never ready?” You whisper before you can stop yourself, resting your head against his shoulder and he tuts as he looks down at you.

“Then we will never do anything.”

“Go on.” It is a whispered plea. And Acacius gently obliges. He knows how to give commands that demand to be followed. But he also knows how to take them.

His fingers sneak under the delicate cloth that forms your underwear, his index finger finding the space between your legs already deliciously wet. He can feel himself getting hard at just this. The thought that merely sitting on his lap, kissing him, feeling his hands on your leg, is enough to arouse you to this point. He swipes his thick index fingers through your folds, making you clutch onto his shoulder and whimper in surprise. A low chuckle leaves his lips as he stills his hand again, not wanting to overstimulate you right away. He is keeping that trick up his sleeve for later.

“Your body does not know of your vows, dulcissima,” he rasps, his beard scratching against your skin as he places soft kisses against your neck. He feels you shiver and while he is sure some of it can be attributed to the excitement, he has a feeling the cold is also doing its part. He has a sudden urge to pick you up and carry you inside. If you truly want him to see you, to bare yourself before him–the first man to ever touch you like this–it cannot be on a cold stone bench.

“Let me take you inside.”

(art by art by Gökberk Kaya)

notes: okay, i know, i know, bad moment to stop. i promise the next chapter is in the works! ♡

[kelppsstuff]

Can you perhaps write an Adam x reader where the reader is extremely insecure about their looks and thinks they'll never be truly attractive and he comforts them after catching them in the middle of a breakdown ....... Thank you so much I love your work ♥️♥️

Divine

Summary: when your insecurities get the best of you Adam is there

F!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: depression, depressive thoughts, making love, panic attack

Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @adamsfavoritesinner @leathesimp @mmichelleszn @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @sirenetheblogger @jawline-of-steel

You always were one to never feel confident in your own body. Even when you were alive. You were beyond surprised when the first man told you he wanted you, and even more surprised when you started dating.

You were a relatively high ranking angel, most people respected you. You were kind, compassionate, caring, and most of all, you were down to earth, or well heaven.

However even in your after life those thoughts followed you. Making you question everything about yourself.

The questions started small.

Were you too tall? Were you too short? Should you have long or short hair?

Then they began to form into something more.

Were you eat too much? Too less? Were your boobs big enough? Was your ass too big? What made you deserve Adam? Why are you even here?

You never told anyone about said thoughts. Heaven wasn’t a place of insecurity. Everyone was “hot” as saint peter like to put it, so no one really talked about their problems.

You tired hard to appear perfect. Always going the extra mile for something, for someone.

—

You walked around your home, glass of wine in your hand. You made a sudden stop however as you caught a glimpse of your reflection in one of the mirrors in your home.

You took another sip to try and stop the incoming thoughts, however it did no good.

Do you really think Adam wants you? It’s all a joke to him. You don’t deserve him, look at you.

Tears started to form in your eyes, tears of sadness filling eyes of rage.

You screamed out in frustration and threw the wine glass to the mirror. The glass shattered and red stained your white walls.

The thoughts stopped, finally a moment of peace, but it did not last. The came back stronger than before.

You grabbed one of your fire pokers and started to hit your glass cabinets. Throwing every thing you could find against the walls.

You didn’t find clarity though.

You slid down the walls while the tears slid down your face. “Just leave me alone!” You cried out to the empty room.

Now you’re throwing a fit? Get over yourself, god you’re pathetic.

You didn’t hear the door open, you couldn’t get out of your head. You didn’t hear footsteps crunching on the glass around you, it was blocked out by your crying.

You only focused back when Adam placed his arms around you and slightly shook the two of you.

“What’s the matter baby?” His voice was unusually soft, and it was delicate.

“I want the mirrors gone.” You begged to him. He pulled your head away from his chest and made you look up at him. “Then how would you see your beautiful face?”

You scoff out, “what a funny joke.” Your voice was bitter, and your throat was raw. The tears had finally stopped, but they still stained your face and your lashes were soaking.

“Funny of you to think I’m joking. Talk to me baby.” He noticed your insecurities to an extent. Adam wasn’t one to be too aware of mental struggles — even if he has some of his own — but he noticed things about you.

He would notice how you would always try and hide your stomach. How you would sometimes get lost in though while grabbing your thighs. He would notice how you never wanted him to go down on you even though you would blow him off. He would notice your long looks in the mirror and the distance face you had.

He would try and help. Telling how how hot he found you every time he saw you. He would always praise you. It wasn’t enough, he knew that but he wanted you to come to him about this first.

He didn’t want to upset you more with confrontation.

“I’m so ugly! I don’t know why you’re still with me! I’m an embarrassment for you. You’re too good for me.”

Adam brushed away your tears with his lips. Silently listening. This was your moment to get everything off your chest.

“I’m not smart, I’m not even that pretty.” You scoffed and looked away from Adam, “Lute would be a better partner than me.”

Adam pulled your face back to him. “You have no idea just how wrong you are. You are heaven itself. This place was hell until you.”

“You’re not an embarrassment, I’m so proud to have you on my arm. You’re so intelligent that you make god look stupid. Don’t even get me started on your beauty.”

“I love every part of you. I love every inch of skin you have. You’re so pretty baby and I love you so much it hurts that I can’t express how much I truly do. And I cannot wait until the day that I see you walking down that isle in white.”

You smiled at Adam, it would take time to fully believe him, but right now he made you happy. It had been a long time since the thoughts were gone and it was just the two of you.

“Thank you, Adam.”

Adam placed a kiss your lips and reluctantly backed away. “Don’t thank me baby. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go out have a spa day, go shopping, get all dolled up and when you get back I’ll have a surprise for you.”

You nodded your head and Adam kissed you all over your face leaving giggles to flea from your mouth. God you drive him crazy, in the best way.

—

You got your nails done, even gotten your hair styled, and you went to the mall to get new jewelry and a dress.

By the time you got home and walked brought the door all the glass and everything was cleaned up.

Another thing you noticed was the rose petals making a path to your room while music played out. The closer your got to the room the louder you heard the song.

You opened the door and there Adam stood. In a suit, maskless, while holding up a rose to you.

Adam could feel his heart stop. He looked you up and down and he knew that he would love you for the rest of his immortal life.

“You look…” and felt like he couldn’t breathe, you were simply, “divine.”

Red rushed to your cheeks as you walked closer to him, taking the rose. You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked around.

Candles were lit all over the room and you noticed he put a table in here that had your favorite food and wine. You looked to the left and noticed the bed was filled with rose petals just like the table.

The candles reflected against your skin and Adam knew that this was the moment, he couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Marry me.”

You snapped your head up to him, “what?”

Adam dropped your arms to his hands and he started to get onto hid knee. “I’ve lived in Heaven longer than I can remember, but it wasn’t Heaven until you. I have had two wives and yet it was you who taught me how to love.”

Adam pulled out a ring box from his jacket and opened revealing your dream ring. It was breathtaking.

“I was trapped in a marriage twice, and I don’t want you to think of this as a trap. When I ask you to marry me I’m asking for you to let me worship you. Let me wake up beside you every single day. Let me try and show just how deep my love for you goes, even though it’s impossible because I simply have too much of it to show. So I ask you. Will you marry me?”

A smile broke on your face and you dropped to you knees bringing him to a kiss. You put your hand to his cheek while he wrapped his arms around you.

You kissed all over his face saying yes a million times. Adam face was full of love and happiness as he placed the ring onto your finger.

You looked at him and placed your forehead against his, “never let me go.” You whispered.

“Never.” He promised.

He picked you up and carried you to the bed, kissing you along the way.

When he dropped you to the edge of the bed you immediately went to his belt but he pushed your hands away.

He dropped to his knees and pushed your back to the bed. “This night is all about you, honey.”

You were nervous yet excited.

He undid your heels, slightly rubbing your sore feet before his hands trailed up your thighs. “Lift your hips baby.”

You flushed pink, Adam said Vulgar things all the time but that would play a repeat in your head for days, hell eternity to come.

You did as he said and he pushed your dress up while pulling down your panties, stuffing them in his pockets.

He brought his lips to your own, and gave your heat a little kiss. Your little moan let him knew just how eager you truly are, along with the slickness along your folds.

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulder, slightly angling your hips upwards.

He gave you a long lick, loving the taste of you. He wanted more, no needed more, he needed to taste you more.

He gave you more licks and suck before rubbing your clit while putting his tongue to use but pushing it past your folds and into your walls.

You could feel pressure in your stomach begging to be release, you were quite familiar of this feeling.

“Adam, I’m oh god, I’m going to cum.”

Adam paced quicken, desperate to have you gush on his tongue and gush you did. You poured onto him, crying out in pleasure. Adam didn’t let a single drop past him.

When you finally were finished riding out your high Adam climbed over you. A sight it was.

He ran a hand down his hair, his tie loose, your fluids over his face and a hungry look in his eyes. You made sure to engrave that memory in your head. You pushed off his suit jacket while he worked on his belt and shoes.

Adam ripped open your dress causing you to whine, “that was expensive!”

Adam started to kiss up your neck and to your ear, his low raspy voice right over it. “I’ll buy you ten more.” His breath blew over the curvature of your ear making your yearn for him.

You ripped open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as you gave him begging eyes with a sweet voice to accompany it. “Please my love.”

“How can I refuse someone as pretty as you.”

You believe him, you felt pretty, you felt loved, you felt worshipped, you felt enough.

Adam pushed down his pants and lined himself up to your entrance. He slowly started to push into your slick walls, leaning down over you breathing heavy, matching yours.

When he finally bottomed out he had to take a moment to stop. You were so tight and you were squeezing him so nice.

In the very low of your stomach you could feel a tiny bulge.

He took you hand hand placed it over your lower stomach. “You feel me baby? You feel what you do to me? Only you could make me like this.”

“I love you Adam.” He placed a soft kiss on your soft lips, “not as much as I love you.”

Before you could deny it he thrusted up into you. Suddenly your ‘impossible’ turned into “don’t stop.”

“I won’t baby.”

He kept his word. He kept it slow and you didn’t ask for him to go faster. His thrust was hard and it his the exactly spot that he knew would make you tick.

He started to rub your clit, whispering praises in your ear and then suddenly you could feel yourself pulsing around him.

With you tightening Adam’s own release pushed deep into. Painting your walls white.

When you both came down from your highs he pulled out and made you two a bath.

While the two of you soak and nipped your ear and joke, “looks like I skipped dinner and went straight to dessert.” You giggled and splashed him.

The two of you went silent for a moment, just admiring the other. “I love you.” You both said.

Adam was truly happy.

You were truly happy.

Any problems that would happen you two would face them, together.

AHHHHH

Okay so let’s talk!

I’m so happy I wrote this! You have no idea, while writing this it felt like a piece of me healing.

If anyone is struggling I want you to know you’re not alone! There are others out there and I don’t mean that as a way to down play you, I mean that in a way they people understand and people will listen.

Don’t struggle alone there is always a door open and each and every person alive is beautiful and truly amazing and there is always someone something that loves you!

[soombee]

ଳ⋆｡˚𖦹 caught in the current of you — 01 , fish facts & a lil chemistry

warnings ! none

wordcount ; 573 / 0.5k words

‘thoughts’ -> “out loud”

7:30 am — chemistry

you didn’t expect to be particularly THIS nervous to present in today’s class, but then, your fine shyt, leehan, steps up to the front of the room and, all of a sudden, all your worries faded away just from the sight of his face

your heart beats raises, beating out of your chest as you remember last night’s venture through his twitter feed. he’s looking as fine as ever — in front of you, wearing a grey sweater with his tousled hair. he’s so effortlessly handsome.

‘thank god i decided to sit infront.’ you think to yourself, feeling blood flush your face

i mean, sure he’s in your chem lab, but you’re pretty sure he’s never really noticed you beyond the few shared glances when you’re stationed nearby each other and it’s killing you. but right now, standing at the front of the classroom, leehan looks so different — focused frown and tired eyes, presumably from the night before, trying to memorize the material he researched. he chose to present on the chemistry of ocean ecosystems and, judging by the look in his eyes, you can just tell that this isn’t just a topic to him

leehan starts to babble, giving the class a basic breakdown of marine life chemistry, but within seconds, he’s diving deeper, animatedly describing the ocean’s ecosystem as if it’s a living, breathing puzzle he’s trying to solve. his hands gestures excitedly when he talks about the bonds between organisms and how they rely on each other to thrive in the depths of the ocean. there’s something captivating in the way he speaks — like he’s not just presenting but inviting the whole class into his world. and slowly, you find yourself leaning forward, totally hooked, oh, on the presentation too i guess!

“and then there’s the corydoras catfish,” he says, smiling a little as he describes its contribution to the ocean system, “they’re very social fish so they’re barely alone!” the whole class might just hear a random fact, but you catch something else; a glimpse of leehan’s dedication to understanding even the smallest details about marine life, making your attraction towards him grow deeper

“i’m such a fool for u..” you confess under your breath, perchance wanting him to know how you felt about him

he dives into a ramble about coral reefs, the chemistry of their growth, and how they’re as fragile as they are beautiful. his face lights up with every word, not even glancing at his notes. it’s clear his passion isn’t just shallow—his dedication being your newfound obsession

by the time he wraps up, you’re practically just staring at him; not even in a “focused” way, you were ogling at him. this wasn’t just a class presentation; it was like getting to peek into a hidden part of his mind, one filled with excitement for something he loves. you can’t help but smile a little bigger, heart pounding in a way you didn’t see coming—even if he was fine shyt

for a brief second, leehan glances your way, as if noticing you’re there—you quickly drop your gaze, hoping he doesn’t catch the blush creeping onto your face

‘this is crazy,’ you think, ‘who tf falls for someone because of a lecture on fish!?’ but as soon as he sits down, you steal another glance, you’re definitely in too deep

“okay next up!” stupid chem professor distracting you from admiring fine shyt. 🫤

if u dont get the pineapple reference click here 🍍🍍🍍

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taglist (open) ! @saintriots @yourmyst4r @sftsohee @httpenhoon @alisonyus

[theemporium]

Could you maybe write something with Carlos and his wife who's shy and more quiet despite working for the social media team of Ferrari and when fans get a bit handsy Carlos steps in when he notices her discomfort?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You always preferred to stay behind the camera.

It had always been the case, even since you were a kid. You were shy, a little introverted. You didn’t like it at home when your parents tried to film a few home videos, you didn’t like it at school, you just didn’t really like it at all.

Your fascination came from being behind the camera. In being the one to capture all the moments around you so you could share it with the world. And with a growing love for motorsports ever since you were a young girl, it only made sense that your career and line of work would follow your dreams.

You joined the Scuderia Ferrari team the same year Carlos Sainz was signed on as their new driver, and it felt like fate that you two crossed paths.

It was difficult not to fall for the Spaniard. He lived true to his name and you were practically wrapped around his finger after you two first spoke. Carlos was sweet and kind and romantic, and despite having his undivided attention, you never felt like you were under a spotlight like you tended to feel with others.

Carlos always made you feel safe. He helped you grow, just as you did with him. And it was no surprise to anyone that after a few years of dating, Carlos finally put the ring on your finger.

The irony was never lost on you that despite your shy and reserved nature, the man you married ended up being one of the most photographed and sought out people in the world. He was constantly in front of a camera, and you were more than happy to be the one behind it. And all in all, fans were mostly respectful of your wishes to stay in the shadows.

But sometimes that wasn’t always the case.

Monza was a big race for the Ferrari team, one marked on the calendar and anticipated throughout the season. It was their home race. It was where the fans were the wildest, craziest, most passionate. And the boys were at the middle of it all, the hopes for a good race in front of their most loyal fans.

Carlos had one hand perched on your lower back as you made your way towards the paddock entrance. Both your paddock passes were in your hands as Carlos used his free hand to sign as many photos and caps and shirts as he could.

“Careful, mi amor,” Carlos murmured, his arm winding around your waist to keep you upright as more fans flooded your husband.

“You don’t need to rush,” you told him with a soft smile. “We still have another fifteen minutes before the meeting.”

He raised his brows. “Are you sure?”

“They are here for your, Carlos,” you assured him as you squeezed his hand, before letting him step away and give his full attention to the fans.

However, before you could step away from the crowd like you planned to do, an influx of more fans started pushing forwards to try and catch a glimpse of your husband. They were yelling and shoving and you started to feel hands all over you, and it made you want to crawl into yourself.

Your breathing quickened and your eyes darted around the group to try and find an escape, but it was useless. You tried to ignore the way your throat closed up, a sense of panic and dread bubbling inside of you as more people pushed and more hands touched you, and for a second you were concerned you were about to have a breakdown in front of everyone.

“AY! AY! MOVE AWAY, LET HER BREATHE!”

The crowd around you started to dissipate and soon enough the sight of your husband was no longer obstructed. Carlos quickly moved towards you, his hands cupping your face the second he was close enough.

“Mi amor,” he murmured breathlessly before he wound an arm around your shoulder protectively and began to guide you away from the crowds.

“Carlos,” you murmured as you sunk into his embrace. “The fans—”

“Can wait,” he finished for you. “I’ll go back later. You’re my priority.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry.”

He paused, looking down at you with a frown on his face. “Do not apologise, amor,” he murmured with a shake of his head. “You’re my wife, you’re my world. Nothing will ever be important to me as you are.”

Your lips twitched. “Many years later and you still make me swoon, Mr Sainz.”

“I like to remind you why you said I do, Mrs Sainz,” he replied with a cheeky grin as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before guiding you towards the Ferrari motorhome where you’d be safe from the onslaught of crowds.

.

[cherryredstars]

Here's some angst, Miguel reacting to reader who shaved off all their hair. Like, reader had a nervous breakdown one night and did it without thinking it through, and not has to deal with the fallout. Maybe reader just has mental health issues in general.

Anyways, love your writing!

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: Reader is constantly crying, Angst (???), SFW

A/N: I finished writing this and then Tumblr decided to refresh the page while I was adding the tags so I had to rewrite it.

Unedited

You sob the second you look at yourself the next morning.

You don't know what you were expecting to see, but the sight of your shaved head would never be something you were prepared for. It's done horribly, splotchy due to your tear-blurred vision the night before. What used to be strands of your longer hair still lay in the sink and on the bathroom floor, and it makes you cry harder. You have to spend the next hour crying as you fix the mess on your head, cutting it even shorter to make it even. Even after that's done, you end up three hours late for work because every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in a reflective surface you begin to cry. It doesn't help that you've missed a meeting, and you know Miguel will be pissed the second you walk into his office to apologize. You'll have to swing yourself into the nearest bathroom stall after you meet with him if you miraculously don't end up sobbing in front of him.

When you compose yourself to finally get to the Spider Society, you just begin to wish you stayed at home. It seems that everyone in the overpopulated halls stops what they're doing to look at you, throwing astonished faces your way as they turn to follow you. If you could, you would throw your mask over your head, but you found that the material is too baggy now that you don't have the hair to fill it. You promised yourself you would cry over that after you send in your suit altercation request and go to the supermarket to buy enough chocolate and ice cream to eat your weight and more.

You're slightly grateful when you enter Miguel's office, his back turned to you and now shielded away from the eyes of the other spiderman variants. You hope it stays this way, but life is never on your side. Miguel turns slightly, lingering to look at his screens before throwing a glance at you over his shoulder once he's heard you enter. He moves to turn around again, before stiffening when he registers what he just saw. You fidget as you imagine the look on his face, brows scrunched as he tries to decipher if what he saw was an illusion from the harsh glow of his screens. He turns around quickly, his staring blatant and insecurity-inducing. You want to yell and scream at him for making it so obvious, but you've cried all your energy out today.

"Are you trying something new with your hair?"

You consider Miguel lucky that everything in his office is too heavy to pick up. Otherwise, you would be throwing everything in your vicinity at his face. Instead, your bottom lip quivers and a pained noise fumbles from your mouth. If you weren't having your hundredth breakdown of the day, you would laugh at the wide eyed look Miguel gives you.

"I-I didn't mean it in a bad way, I was just asking a question. I think it looks good!"

You cry harder at his words, shaking you head, "It's horrible!"

Miguel is at a loss of words, knowing that whether he agreed or disagreed with you, it would end in you crying even harder. He makes his way to you hesitantly, gently pulling you to his chest and his hand cradles the back of your head. The short hairs prickle against this skin, and he whispers reassuring words to you as you sob and sniffle into his chest.

"You're okay, it's all good now. Give it some time and it'll all grow back."

You stay glued to his chest until your sobs die down to weak sniffling. Miguel pulls away from you, giving you space as you wipe away the tears on your face with a shuddering breath. It takes a moment for your airways to clear up, breathing returning to normal and your inhales losing its noisy quality. Miguel seems to take pity on you today, allowing you to stay with him in his office as he works silently. You're grateful for it, not having to do anything or face the rest of the society any more than you have. Miguel doesn't even bring up the meeting you missed, but you're sure that once your psyche could handle it he'll tell you off. But for now, you get a short break from your rough life.

You'll have to find a way to thank him later.

[save-the-horse]

Was he that desperate? Yes. Donovan had been between bad relationships for so long and now he had the tiniest spark of a decent relationship. The depravity after was an accident. An older gentleman with a lovely tenor and hands that had wandered over his waist before. First dreaming of the mechanics hands on his hips, no barriers between them. Then more followed, night after night. Harlens hands slipping further down, disappearing further across his body before the dreams end. Forcing him awake with the low drawl of Harlens voice trailing out of his ears. “Just relax darlin’.”

A week had passed since brunch with his mother and the breakdown of his car. Donovan still saw him on Saturday classes, demoing each step with him and letting Harlen lead him through each motion. Heavy hands on his hips and thighs when they move into a lift low enough that he has to excuse himself half way through class and recompose his manners.

Late that night, only 8pm when he gives in. There was something he’d felt between them, Harlen willing to come to him in the middle of the night when his car broke down and meeting his mother the next day. A few unfortunate years have told him that the romantics weren’t open to him. Donovan had forgotten what it was like to be romanced and wooed, going off of what everyone else had wanted in him. Sex, body, form. A half hour of taking painstakingly angled photos later, he thinks he’s ready. Nothing too provocative, just a few shots from his thighs and a few glimpses of his ass.

[Harley: Loved having your hands on me again tonight.]

@murdersinthemaking

Harlen's barely been able to stop thinking about Donovan all week, almost obsessing over him and how sweet he is despite his best efforts not to.

Brunch had gone super well, at least he thinks so — Colette seemed to live him and they all had a pretty good time. A win is a win.

And dance classes have sprouted some interesting thoughts, mostly centred around Donovan's thighs and other contexts where he could touch them.

God, he's never been more embarrassed by his own mind before. Well, not recently.

The pictures catch Harlen very off-guard in the best way possible. He's been trying to work up the courage to ask Donovan out to dinner and he still wants to do that but holy shit. Apparently, now is not the time for romance just yet.

Harlen sends a picture back — his chest being the main thing, his shirt partly unbuttoned and pulled aside slightly by his nicer hand to display the top half of his pecs ,muscular and lightly hairy.

[Absolute sweetheart: Happy to hear it, baby.]

[caseycabotsvu]

Casey Novak x (Student Intern) Reader x Alex Cabot (Are you coping?)

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

Reader is a student law intern at the district attorney's office; her mentors are Casey and Alex. Reader struggles with her past after an abusive home life. When school should have been her safe place, instead she was assaulted. After leaving home and beginning law school she won an internship at the firm. Life starts looking up, but will y/n be able to cope with the pressure of her internship? (Reader struggles with Anxiety and Depression. TW: SH) - 2305 Words

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

As usual, my day starts with my alarm blaring as I turn over switching it off, dragging myself out of bed, across the hallway into the bathroom. I undress getting into the shower letting the water trickle over my body waking me up for the day. Sometimes I miss the days when I would get in the shower and my arms would sting with the sensations caused the day previous, it was a bad way of coping and I knew that but it's the only way I knew. Pulling myself out of the shower, I repeated as always how proud I was of myself for being clean and finding other ways to cope, but with the pressure I had been under recently I was craving the release that my blade once brought me.

I loved the internship, and I knew I had earned it. Casey and Alex where my bosses and they treated me well, I knew they had high standards, and I was so scared to let them down or allow the powerful women to see any form of weakness in me. Pulling on my dress and heels I headed for the kitchen grabbing my coffee and bag before heading out the door. Today was a huge step, it was my first day in court, under the guidance of my mentors. Casey and Alex had been prepping me for weeks, going over the process and indulging my every anxiety in hopes of keeping me calm on the day. They had once been in my shoes and knew how stressful the first trial could be so they wanted me to be as prepared as possible, so I could start off on the right foot.

Stepping out into the street, the bustling of people sucked me in as I walked for my metro to work. I scanned my card at the gates striding onto the busy rush hour platform. Pushing onto the metro as it arrived I seated myself, looking up at those around me, catching a glimpse of someone I had not seen in a very long time. Feeling panic wash over me in a hot flush I fumbled around my bag trying to appear calm, my abuser, the guy from my school was sat on the same metro as me. I knew he could not hurt me, but I was still pulled back into the times he did, feeling dirty all over again. Whilst fumbling around my bag I came across my old purse, something I used to carry with me for relief in the moments I couldn't cope with my emotions. I felt so guilty knowing it was there but facing the world today was going to be hard, so I had it as a back up in case I needed it.

Getting to my stop the subway halted and I ran off the carriage as fast as I could hoping to make it straight to work without being near the guy. I never looked back as I dashed up the stairs and through into the foyer, towards my shared office with Casey and Alex, shoving the door open frantically I wasn't expecting Alex or Casey to be here already so when they looked over concerned I turned red, needing a second to compose myself. I could not let them see me breakdown.

Casey: "Good morning y/n. How are you, you look stressed?" She shot you a sympathetic smile, presuming you were worried about court. You didn't answer instead just looked at both women in shock.

Alex: "Earth to y/n? Are you okay?" Alex questioned, believing the same as Casey.

Y/n: "Yeah umm sorry I...yeah your right I'm just a bit nervous for today that's all, nothing else." I forced out a laugh trying to remain calm as they both gave you a reassuring look.

Casey: "Okay come sit and we can prepare the notes together before we go in. You can take control in this trial but if you need someone to take over at anytime we will."

Alex: "We aren't expecting you to be perfect sweetie, your only young and you have years ahead of you, all we ask is you try your best and take all the experience that comes okay." Alex reassured, trying to remove some pressure.

Y/n: "Thank you both, really I just want it to be over." You laughed composing yourself and trying to lighten the mood.

Casey: "You're going to be great sweetie trust me. We've seen what your capable of, your smart and collected and you're going to be such an amazing attorney."

With that you all sat and discussed the case and planned questions for the defendant. You began to calm down forgetting of your earlier panic, as work took over. All three of you headed for court, the corridor felt so long, as your anxiety ramped up. Walking into court there wasn't too many people which made it easier, but you were still on edge. Stepping to the stand you began the trial as instructed, cross examining the defendant. Getting into your flow, you began to feel less anxious, until the defendant's attorney decided to begin questioning you, his aggression showing. As he approaches, you backed away feeling intimidated as his eyes fixed on you.

I could feel my heart begin pounding as if I were a scared kid again waiting for him to hit me just as I was used to at home. The judge, stopped him before he got to close and reprimanded him for trying to psych out the new intern, accusing him of threatening behaviour. A small break was granted, allowing us to reconvene in 10 minutes. Alex waved me towards her and Casey, congratulating me on how well I had been doing, calling the man a pig for his disgusting behaviour towards a young woman. I smiled along, all whilst cursing myself internally, believing I wasn't good enough and would never be. They were just being nice, it's their job. But that wasn't true.

Alex decided to take over the trial as the evidence was already shaky, you believed this to be your fault, but it wasn't. There had been no forensics from the start so nothing scientific to back up the prosecution, a hard case to start with. As court ended we lost the case, unsurprising due to the insufficient evidence, but I couldn't help thinking it was my fault, I was the liability as always.

Rushing out of court I grabbed my bag running towards the toilets. I slammed the stall door grabbing my only coping mechanism from my bag. The blade I had been free from for years was back and I needed to feel the pain. Grabbing my blazer sleeve and rolling it up, seeing the faint scars left behind, I dug the blade into my arm feeling the wave of pain wash over me, I felt relieved, but guilty. I dragged to blade repeatedly over my skin creating long lines watching the blood bubble to the surface and run down my wrist. Realising I was now covered and how long I had been I quickly cleaned my arm up pulling my blazer sleeve back over them making sure they were hidden. I shoved the blade back into my bag and grabbing some tissues to dry my eyes. Looking in the mirror I could see my eyes bloodshot from crying and my hair messy. I fixed my hair and reapplied some makeup in attempt to cover up my upset. Walking back to the office, trying to appear as composed as I could, praying Alex and Casey had left for lunch, but they hadn't. They had been waiting for me to return. Giving them a sheepish look I walked in placing my bag down, the guilt consuming me. Alex approached, i didn't dare look up, backing away into the corner, my body scared of the repercussions, something that it was programmed to do over my childhood.

Alex realised you were scared and didn't approach any further, used to dealing with victims she could tell, as could Casey that something was wrong.

I sat in silence for a while before hearing Alex speak.

Alex: "Sweetie, its okay, you did incredibly well, for such a tough case. Even I couldn't have won that one."

Casey: "It was a tough case y/n, there was barely any evidence. Be proud of yourself for having the courage to stand tall in court today." She smiled at you, as tears began to fall down your cheeks. At this point both women looked concerned, never having seen your break. They came towards you quickly to console you, but you panicked scared they would hurt you. Dropping down into the corner covering your head, Casey could see the signs, she recognised her younger self in you, cursing herself for not noticing earlier. Covering your head in fear you braced yourself for the onslaught of abuse, but it never came. Casey kneeled instead, and Alex got on the floor, waiting for you to come round. After a while you looked up, tears staining your face. Casey reaching out a tissue for you to grab. Shuffling closer to them, Alex helped you up and onto the sofa, as they sat either side of you.

Casey: "That's it honey, take some deep breaths for me, you're okay, you're here and nobodies going to hurt you sweetheart."

Alex: "Were here for you sweetie, were not going anywhere, your safe with us." Sniffling I reached out for the tissues, in the moment not realising my sleeve had become stained with blood. Alex's brows furrowed shooting a concerned look to Casey as Casey nodded seeing it also. For a while silence hung in the office as you calmed down. Casey took her chance to check you over now.

Casey: "Honey, it's okay no need to be scared I know you've had a hard day, but I need to ask you something before I can let you leave." You nodded still unaware of the grave mistake you had made. "What happened to your sleeve love, there's blood soaking through it." Panicking you tried to get up, only to be pulled down by Alex who held you in her tight embrace.

Alex: "Its okay sweetie, we just want to make sure your safe. It's something we've both seen lots. Its understandable why you'd turn to this to cope."

Y/N: "I..I...I'm fine it's just been a stressful day, I saw my abuser on the metro this morning, I got intimidated by the prosecutor and on top of it all I fucked up the trial and we lost."

Casey: "Honey your clearly not fine, you didn't lose the trial it was never going to be won, that was impossible. And as for this morning, that prosecutor is a known bully. You don't deserve to carry the pain of other people's actions towards you, I've been there, and it can be unbearable feeling so alone. I promise you have us, and we'll be with you every step of the way."

Alex: "We've got you and you're never going to face judgement from either of us, we all have our ways of coping, we just want to keep you safe, okay? Can you let us see and clean you up, so they don't get infected sweetie?" Still in Alex's soft embrace you reached out your arm to Casey, allowing her to roll up you sleeve and see your arm littered with cuts. You hid your face into Alex feeling ashamed, she only held you tighter as you sobbed . Grabbing the first aid kit Casey cleaned up your arms with care, trying to be as gentle as she could, applying some antiseptic cream and plasters. She pulled your sleeve back down and pulled you into a hug. For once you felt safe and cared for, they held you as you sobbed, breaking your heart to them about your abusive household and the guy who assaulted you repeatedly throughout school. Alex and Casey listened intensely before speaking.

Alex: "Honey I was thinking, I'm not fully comfortable letting you go home alone today, I just want to make sure your okay tonight, would you like to come stay at Casey and I's appartement?" Casey nodded reassuring you it was okay, and you agreed, scared to be alone tonight. The two women held you up, practically carrying you out of the office taking your home. Once in the appartement they got you some pyjamas, which swamped your tiny frame, guiding you into the spare room to get some rest as they went back to the kitchen to prepare some dinner.

Alex: "How could anyone treat such a sweet girl so horribly. She was clearly vulnerable, and they all took advantage of her. That's no childhood for anyone."

Casey: "I know Alex it breaks my heart she faced those awful things; she doesn't deserve the pain she must face on a daily basis. How does she keep going, I would have crumbled." Casey began to cry, the reminder of her past becoming overwhelming. Alex pulled her into her embrace holding her girlfriend tight, peppering her forehead with kisses.

Alex: "I love you with all my heart Casey Novak, your the bravest person I know."

Casey: "I love you too, Alex Cabot."

[frenziedfireworks]

hi! i was wondering if you could do something like draco having a sort of mental breakdown, and the reader comforting him? or maybe the reader catches draco trying to scrub or scratch his death eater mark off. ps, i love ur work 💗

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary : Your boyfriend is having a tough time and you're there to help.

CW : sad!Draco, Draco rubbing his skin raw, bit of a mental breakdown + comfort

You had been staying at Malfoy Manor quickly after you received an owl from your boyfriend. The tyrannical things his father was making him go through and the trauma he had to endure.. You had hoped to lighten it. You knew he had his bad days but he mostly preferred to keep it to himself. He had said “it’s easier for him to think” during those moments. You had more just accepted he still wasn’t used to affection and he had been terribly neglected. 

Today was one of his bad days. You had sauntered around the manor all day in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. Much to your dismay the only person you caught was Lucius. 

“Ah, Y/N. Out for a stroll? Do be careful. You never know what you will find around the manor these days. Definitely at this time of night.” Lucius said in a haughty tone as he looked you up and down. You simply nodded to the man and began to walk away. You had to see Draco.

–

Your hand went to knock on his bedroom door when you heard the muffled sobs. You knew he wouldn’t let you in until he had finished or would just act like nothing had happened. So despite better judgment and privacy for your boyfriend, you yanked the door open. 

Draco’s bloodshot eyes met yours before he turned away. You noticed his pulled sleeve and the scratches against the dark mark. He had been picking at it long enough to draw blood.

“Dray, sweetie.” You moved in and rubbed a hand lightly against his back. His body wracked with silent sobs as he slowly leaned into the touch. You took it as a good sign and wrapped your arm around him, pulling his form into you. “It’s going to be okay. I know things are hard but we are going to get through this. Together - remember?” You whispered to him and he took a few deep breaths. His head turned and you saw how puffy and red he was. Evidently crying for some time now.

“Do you really think it’ll be okay Y/N? After everything I’ve done? I am just becoming what I hated.” His words spat with disgust and his nails traveled down the scratches on his forearm. Your fingers pushed his hand away and you brought it up to your lips. You placed delicate smooches against the burnt skin, watching as his grey eyes widened.

“You have been pushed and pulled in every direction. You do what you must to stay alive. You are not them and never have been. You are a survivor.” You brush at his pale locks and lean in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. The blonde’s face melts and he automatically nuzzles into your neck. His grip around you is tight and his breath left goosebumps. 

“I love you. I’m sorry.” Draco’s voice was small, obviously still feeling the turmoil. You just hummed and held him in the embrace. You were glad he had finally allowed you to see him - the true him.

“I love you too. There is no need to apologize. I’m here for everything. Good or bad. You’re safe with me.” You could feel the tiny smile against your flesh that widened on Draco’s face. He may not have an easy life but he would always have you.

–

“Let’s clean you up and get you to bed.”

 You walked to the bathroom and grabbed a rag. You wetted it with warm water and made your way back, grasping at his mangled arm. Draco took a few deep breaths as you washed over the spot and then placed the towel against his face. Moving it against his porcelain skin you wiped away until he looked pleasantly relaxed. You placed a small kiss to his lips before placing back the cloth. Draco scooted up the bed and got in, waiting for you to join him. 

You got comfy beside him and sighed as you felt his head lean against your chest. Your fingers ran through his hair and his breathing began to slow.

“Goodnight Y/N. Thank you..”  

Your heart warmed at the soft and sweet tone, happy to bring some comfort to your dear boyfriend.

“Anytime honey. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[androgynoussublimeangel]

So far all the ProhibitedWish content I've written Jake has either not been mentioned or already dead. But what if....human AU (cuz I guess technically it's the only AU where Jake being alive doesn't fuck the timeline too much) where essentially Jake keeps hearing things about Scarab or seeing glimpses of his relationship with Prismo before they officially "get-together" vs. Jake actually meeting the guy (including maybe a bonus where he just watches Scarab do something totally unhinged before he knows who he is then promptly is introduced to him) I would just love Jake pushing Prismo to pursue Scarab and then after finally meeting him and being like blindsided by what an maniac he actually is vs how Prismo has been describing him this whole time.

Spent my shift at work kind workshopping/brainstorming:

Set up in glimpses with Prismo and Jake regular meet-ups up to catch up. This is after Jake has already met Lady and they've had the Pups (not sure how old they're gonna be probably still kids at least). It begins with Prismo just complaining about the new auditor and what a hardass he is, Jake offering ways for Prismo to maybe befriend the guy, maybe help him to lighten up. Like inviting him to Prismos parties.

This is the cusps of change for their relationship where Prismo and Scarabs relationship becomes less outright hostile. Slowly Prismo begins actually following Jake's advice to try and befriend the other and does finally take the initiative to actually invited Scarab to the next party though he doubts he'll show up. But Scarab actually attends but spends the entire time alone in a corner before leaving early, before Prismo can interact with him all that much. Prismo reports all this to Jake who again encourages him to approach Scarab first, "maybe he's shy!". Except Scarab doesn't show at the next party, Prismo tries to pretend he isn't disappointed.

Prismo isn't that keen on the idea. Then not quite sure how I wanna make this work but Scarab has his breakdown leading to the fallout leading to his demotion, this is hot gossip in the company. Prismo ends up calling Jake after he attempts to speak to Scarab about it leading him accidentally poking some sore spots and leading to a fight. (Vaguely the idea is Scarab is on the roof he and Prismo kinda get into it ending with Scarab getting emotional and demanding Prismo leave him alone.) Prismo calls Jake as he smokes (smt he only does when he's extremely stressed and the guilt is eating him up) Jake whom encourages him to go back and talk to Scarab more.

Prismo does so and both he and Scarab are able to clear the air and force some awkward apologies out but they come to an understanding

Jake seeing this makes sure he can attend the party after that much to Prismo's delight. Usually if Jake can find time to make it to parties, (since this is after the kids are born he's not as much of a party animal anymore so his attendance is spotty) Prismo would be glued to his side. But Scarab actually shows up this time around. Jake waves Prismo off to allow him to spend time with his prickly coworker (Jake never sees Scarab his view always blocked by a guest or Prismo himself). When Jake is leaving he spots Prismo has made his way to the balcony having a quiet conversation with someone else, laughing and seemingly at ease so Jake leaves him be to head home for the night.

Prismo and Scarabs relationship vastly improves after this. Jake continues to give Prismo encouragements and maybe advice he himself had found useful when wooing his Lady (though he doesn't tell Prismo this, he figures his pal deserves a smooching partner too)

This is where it gets vague but thinkin Jake hearing stories about Scarab from Orbo and Cosmic Owl when they all maybe go out for drinks and about how crazy and harsh he is and this is where it begins, Jake gets it in his head that Scarab and Scrabby, that Prismo keeps telling him about, are two different people (Jakes got a wife, kids and a Finn to take care of cut him some slack for not remembering a faceless coworker) So Cosmic Owl and maybe also Orbo always have new stories for Jake about their borderline psychotic coworker. But in that same vein Prismo always has a new story about how cute his Scrabby is.

Finally Prismo wants to introduce Jake to Scarab after they've begun officially dating. I'm thinking Jake might own or co-own a gym with Jermaine (more like a rec center; they got classes for kids, stuff like self defense, ect) he sees some dudebro hitting on some smaller guy. When the bigger dude starts getting aggressive Jake is ready to step in only for the smaller guy to put the fear of God in the larger man with some choice words and a sharp smile. (I've got more to the scenario that might include Scarab mildly strangling the guy with weights but point is my mans is homicidal) Jake is equally impressed and frightened.

Oddly enough he and the little maniac end up leaving the gym at the same time, walking in the same direction and going to the same Cafe or park. And then Jake watched gobsmacked as the same little maniac walks right up to Prismo, who scoops him up to greet him affectionately while being scolded by an exasperated yet fond Scarab. Jake is floored. Prismo sees him and waves him over and Jake smiles and simply goes with it. Scarab seems decent enough if not mildly psychotic when pressed.

Prismo goes to the bathroom, leaving Scarab and Jake alone. Scarab pins Jake in place with a knowing gaze. They have a small interaction (not unfriendly but Jake is SWEATIN) Prismo comes back and asks what they're talking about and Scarab tells him about the man at the gym he dealt with. Prismo only responds with stars in his eyes, thoroughly enamored with Scarabs...meaner tendencies. Jake is mildly concerned for his friends taste in partners but simply glad to see him happy only watches the two weirdos with amusement.

The end lmao

(Perhaps I shall actually have time to write and polish this if my schoolwork would stop beating me with a stick)

[taintedsoul-if]

Few questions

MC has two abilities: enchant/boost theirs and others' abilities, and Shadow protection/power right? Beside enchantment that doesn't do anything in itself, MC is physically stronger and has enanched senses like every pharson of their same rank (plus the aether vision), and the Shadow Power right? So one ability that can be directly used, and one that can be used to boost another ability.

T has lady Anaya's, MC's powers, plus his? So puppetter, absorbing powers, Shadow Powers and the disintegration power?

Yesenia instead has only mind manipulation?

What Rank are T's, Yesenia's, Ragriel's and Isuara's Powers?

Sorry for the many questions 😅 but I love your story 😁

Let me provide you with a breakdown of the Enhancer's ability.

The Enhancer ability permanently boosts a Phasrons skills and abilities. If a lower-level Phasron has made no progress in their rank, the user of this ability can change that instantly. Upon activation, a sphere filled with Runic Energy appears beneath the Enhancer’s feet, forming a direct connection between them and their target. Through this link, the Enhancer can increase the target’s power, pushing them to a higher level.

At full potential, the Enhancer ability can be used on a battlefield to strengthen anyone within a 1000-mile radius. However, this comes with risks—while the ability grants immense power, it also drains the Enhancer's Runic Energy. Once an enhancement is made, it cannot be undone, making it crucial for the Enhancer to choose their targets wisely.

The Enhancer ability shares similarities with Nova, especially in terms of control. At its peak, the Enhancer can inject Runic Energy into a target's body, essentially turning them into a puppet under the user's control. This energy manipulation grants the Enhancer full control over the target’s movements, abilities, and decisions, but there's a catch—pushing too much Runic Energy into the target can cause their body to combust, disintegrating them from the inside out.

Now, Anon, I think you may have misunderstood, or perhaps I didn’t explain it clearly enough. The Enhancer ability was something the OH manifested at a young age—actually, from the moment of their conception.

For generations, it has been believed—though more as a myth—that a specific ability is passed down to whoever inherits the mantle of the $!{surname2} family. In Lady Anaya’s lineage, that inherited ability is Aether-Gaze.

Each Phasron can possess only two abilities: a main ability and a sub-ability. The OH originally had only one ability, but their second ability could only be awakened after the direct heir or heiress of the $!{surname2} household—Lady Anaya—died.

With Aether-Gaze, one can glimpse into their own future or the future of those around them. This means Lady Anaya knew she would die. She also foresaw the OH’s death, the arrival of a foreign soul into their body, and the horrors that would eventually consume the Valenzuela household—yet she did nothing to stop it. Why? 🤷‍♀️

The only ability that was stolen from the OH was their Enhancer ability. Meanwhile, the ability stolen from Lady Anaya was Nova.

Once again, keep in mind that a Phasron can only have two abilities: a main ability and a sub ability.

Also, it's important to note that the OH is not the MC. This distinction is crucial. Phantom Step and Shadow Manifestation are not part of the OH’s original abilities—you can think of them as a form of compensation from Nothingness in some way. The MC’s main goal is simply to survive. Even if they try to avoid danger, trouble will always find them no matter where they go.

Shadow Manifestation isn't useless. It allows you to phase through attacks or walls at near-invisible speeds.

Level Shadowing, on the other hand, isn’t an ability. It's a system shield that keeps your abilities and rank hidden from higher-level Phasrons, helping you remain undetected and focused on your mission: survival.

And T doesn't have an ability of their own. You might wonder how they were able to steal both the OH's and Lady Anaya's abilities, and turn Lady Anaya into dust. The answer is [REDACTED].

As for your last question down below, I've added a screenshot of the information you requested.

T’s current rank is Carmine (Power Level: 30-50) - C-Rank.

To close out, I want to thank you for reading and being curious about the abilities, ranks, and so on. Thanks to you, I now have more details to add to the Enhancer ability ❤️.

Have a good one, Anon!

[raibebe]

Dreamies in Hogwarts

Genre: fluff Words: 1595 Warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of bullying

A/N: I had this very sudden need to develop new characters and these are the outcome. And it may or may not have been to do with some post about Jeno being in a house he doesn't belong in.

So here I present (with the help of the lovely @flowerboykun who helped both with some of these bullet points and the little banners) my take on the Dreamies if they were in Hogwarts.

Comments and further questions on them are greatly appreciated. Also arguments about their houses. I very much appreciate other points of view.

Gryffindor (duh)

Muggleborn

Prefect

Golden boy of the house

Has only lost house points ONCE (and he will keep blaming it on Donghyuck until he dies)

If he doesn’t get 100% on a DADA exam, something is wrong

The first one to master his patronus spell by thinking of the day he first stepped into Diagon Alley

Yes, he too got spooked by the big lion he cast but that was before the animal let him pet his mane before disappearing

Had several mental breakdowns trying to choose his elective courses because he couldn’t just take all of them

Always has an open ear for his underclassman

Might just let it slide whenever he sees a first-year out of bed too late because he too would just get lost on the way from the library to their common room and suddenly it was after the curfew

Seeker of the Quidditch team

Refused the captain position multiple times because he thinks Jeno is more suited for it and honestly… He doesn’t need any more responsibilities

So oblivious to everyone who tries to hit on him… Like please help this guy

The amount of times he has been asked out on dates and he just thought it would be a friendly hangout and he brought more people is getting ridiculous

Ravenclaw

Pureblood

Do not underestimate him 

His skills in Charms are unmatched and he probably knows more hexes than all his classmates combined

His quick thinking probably saved Chenle’s life during a Quidditch match once when he fell off of his broom after taking a bludger to the side

Got thrown out of the library for shouting at Donghyuck and Chenle… permanently…

Makes them pay for it by getting his books… And some that he doesn’t actually need… Heavy ones…

Has a new love letter in his bag after every day… He has stopped reading them… 

And started folding them into little tiny cranes instead so he can charm them to fly right back to whoever wrote it… It’s his way of letting them down gently..?

Very fond of the merpeople once he saw them in the Slytherin common room

Also uses them as an excuse to accept Donhyuck’s invites to hang out because he of course just wants to catch a glimpse of them

Maybe beating Donghyuck in wizard chess is also a plus

Not a prefect but loves using the prefect bath (yes, he got Mark to tell him the password)

Found the Room of Requirement sometime during his fourth year which took on the space of a quiet and comfortable safe room for him to recharge

Whenever you cannot find him, he’s probably in there painting

Gryffindor

Halfblood

The sorting hat had a really hard time putting him in a house

Like it took a looong time but in the end, Jeno’s courage and drive got him sent to Gryffindor 

Captain of the Quidditch team

Plays as Chaser

Once accidentally broke one of the hoops because he threw the quaffle too hard and then there was the time when the Hufflepuff Keeper got a concussion…

Loves Care of Magical Creatures and no matter how ugly the creature is, he takes care of them with utmost respect and admiration 

Very fond of the Thestrals, especially the smaller foals and very upset about people being ignorant towards them just because they can’t see them

Wants to go into the forbidden forest so fucking badly to see what kind of creatures live there but he knows that he’ll get in so much trouble if he actually went in

So he just likes to hang out right at the edge of it in hopes to catch glimpses 

Once fell asleep in a Divination class that Jaemin talked him into taking with him

He thought it would be a lot more exciting and the calming scent of the tea put him right to sleep

Needless to say, he dropped the course for Arithmacy instead… Don’t ask how that’s going. 

Actually, he’s doing pretty well in the exams after staying up the whole night cramming, only making his way into bed because Mark found him and carried him upstairs after he passed out in the common room

Slytherin

Halfblood

Didn’t care for Quidditch much until he found out that Mark was playing for Gryffindor

Suddenly, he knew all the rules and had a brand new broom for the tryouts

Is he looking for the snitch or is he just annoying Mark the whole game? No one actually knows

Are you still rivals if it lasts longer than 4 years or are you just in love at this point?

Anyways

Always puts on a strong face but he’s fucking tired of stupid rich purebloods telling him that he doesn’t belong in “their” house

Whenever it just gets too much, he goes to the owlery because their sweet hooting always comforts him and his own eagle owl is always down for scritches and cuddles (and very menacing screeches whenever someone shows up to bother them) 

That is until one day, a small black cat also came to the owlery and curled up in his lap, purring when he started to pet it

And surprisingly, it was very easy to just complain to the little kitten about everything, it even gave disapproving meows at the correct timing

The most peculiar thing though… The cat doesn’t trigger his allergies. But it’s magic so that explains it. Right?

Maybe he should really ask Renjun whether or not there are any charms like that

Takes his divination class very seriously

No, I am kidding, he’s bullshitting himself through every essay… Successfully.

Slytherin

Pureblood

Fuck gender. Like seriously. Who invented this concept? Not them. So therefore it shouldn’t adhere to them.

Metamorphmagus and therefore they might have a new hair color every other day

Very fond of giving themself heterochromia  

Everyone thinks they’re just naturally very gifted in potions but they have worked their absolute ass off to be as good as they are since their grandma is a potion master and they have been brewing with her for as long as they could stir a cauldron 

Has a (very legal) business of selling love potions 

And always has an antidote on hand in case someone tries to spike Mark’s drink (again)

Could not care less about house points and rivalry 

Or Quidditch for that matter even though they show up for every game his friends play in

Might get distracted halfway through and play with cats beneath the bleachers

Friends with the kitchen elves and always praises them for their food

Very peaceful unless you fuck with their friends 

Someone is taking advantage of Mark’s or Jeno’s kindness? Some asshole is calling Donghyuck names again? A dude pushed past Renjun and made him spill his pumpkin juice all over his notes? They sure as hell will not enjoy their next meal when everything suddenly tastes like vomit

Will give them the antidote with a sickening smile on their face once they apologize because they’re just that nice of a person

Slytherin

Pureblood

Transfiguration prodigy

To everyone’s misfortune

He could use his gift to experiment and figure out new spells… But instead, he chooses to play elaborate pranks on his friends

They have stopped counting how many times Jisung’s quills have turned into bugs in the middle of the lecture

Figured out how to turn himself into an Animagus when he was 15

Nothing and nobody is safe from him once he turns into a sleek black cat

Has tea on literally everyone  

Cannot stand the pureblood fanatics and will not hesitate to curse them out very colorfully or turn their belongings into different bugs and animals whenever they’re being assholes to others who don’t fit their standards

Very obsessed and intense about Quidditch 

Do not ask him about his favorite team or he will not stop gushing about one of their chasers

The quickest of Slytherin’s chasers

Once got badly hit by a bludger and refused to be taken to the hospital wing because they were behind by quite a lot despite his arm definitely being broken

Yes, he had to be dragged off the field

Hufflepuff

Muggleborn

Baffled and in awe about everything around him

Still cannot believe that he’s able to do magic and make things LEVITATE

Also food just randomly appearing on the table??

Owls bringing his mail?? That’s crazy. Like how do owls know how to do that?

Really likes Herbology but is kind of freaked out by how many dangerous plants are out there

Please let him drop his potion class for his own safety

Claims that he followed the exact steps in the recipe but somehow managed to melt the bottom of his cauldron not once but twice and got the whole room evacuated because his concoction smelled so bad, a girl fainted

Despite Jaemin’s continuous efforts at teaching him, he seems to be a lost cause but at least he hasn’t exploded one of his potions in a long time

Almost failed the flying class because he was scared shitless after Chenle told him a bunch of nonsense about accidents that have never happened 

Very good friends with some of the portraits and therefore knows a lot of secret passages

The one who always ducks at Quidditch games if any players or balls are remotely in his vicinity

Also still gets spooked by the ghosts

Which only prompts them to scare him even more. Mostly by peeking their head through his food