#when your Ray is full of love and loyalty

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Ray TPN

KLJDFKLVDK HIM THOUGH??

(S1 Episode 6 | Chapter 181.1 | Chapter 93 | Chapter 119 | banana_slug_army's A Bizarre Proposal | 2020 Exhibition Interview)

[midnghtprentiss]

the favorite - jack abbot x f!attending!reader

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!reader

a/n: this is my first jack story and i'm really excited. as a former healthcare worker (nurse!) the pitt changed a lot of things for me and it's my favorite show so far. hope you all like this idea of mine. sorry for any spelling mistakes. english is not my first language.

summary: all the times you were everyone's favorite person and one time you were jack’s person. 

one. 

you're a ray of sunshine. 

that's your thing.

you’re nice, intelligent, competent, kind and still the best part of the day for some people. and you’re smart as hell. she loves it. 

your calm energy it’s the reason why you work at the emergency department. people need your calmness around to work. which means you’re the favorite doctor beneath the staff, especially the nurses and med students - you’re their golden girl. 

dana loved you for different reasons. your sense of humour, your energy, the way you pay attention to the details. and most because you stay out of trouble. 

she never had a problem with you, actually, she was glad they put someone sane and kind to work in that shithole. every shift you showed up with something for the team. 

maybe homemade cookies, a cake and even a bread if you feel inspired baking for your people to show how grateful you are for them and to keep the spirits up. thank god it worked every time. perla and princess waited for you in the parking lot a few times just to make sure you got something good. 

what they admired the most about you was your strength to defend the nurses from the crazy patients. it doesn’t matter the shift, if someone is fighting with them, you’re the first one to show up and say some things. perla remembered how you got beaten up to defend princess from a perv that was touching her and how you ended up laughing about it with blood all over your nose (jack almost died when he saw you covered in blood - your blood). 

“it’s nothing, dana. he was touching her and i don’t appreciate it when men do that. she asked him to stop and he didn’t.” you shrugged and smiled at her. “don’t worry, alright? i would've done it for any of you.”

“kiddo, one of these days you’re going to kill me.”

“no i won’t.” you bolwed her a kiss and she laughed. a relieved laugh. “it’s not my fault i would take a bullet for you guys.” 

no one ever questioned your loyalty with the team, everybody knows exactly where’s the limit between respect and bullshit with you. from this day on, she put you under her wing and swore to herself anything that could ever happen to you during a shift was her full responsibility. some days the funniest part of her shift was explaining to abbot how you almost went home with a broken arm to defend them.

two. 

robby was his own person and you knew that. he loved the space, the warmth of his own heart and the loneliness. of course you were worried a lot of times. 

but for him you were like a breath of fresh air. the way you cracked jokes when you noticed he was this close to snap, when you distracted him for a few minutes with some picture of your cat, even taking him to the morgue just to swear bad words, or when you brought him coffee and chocolate. even when you covered for him for a few minutes so he could cry in peace. 

and he loved you a lot for that (and a lot of other reasons, but let’s focus on the main ones).

you never said a word about any of the things he never asked you to do and you've done it either way. he could count on you any moment of the shift just for glancing different at your direction. sometimes you have conversations with your eyes, sometimes you just cursed him under your breath and that was it. 

you even scared him a little. 

“i don’t want to see you for at least twenty minutes, robinavich. don’t make me yell at you.” you don’t even gleaned at him from the computer. “i got this. go grab something to eat while you cry, i don’t know. call your boyfriend, go watch some babies at peds i want you gone. the kids are my responsibility now.” 

“i need to be grown up now, i am literally their boss.” he tried to argue but one look from you was enough.

“if you don’t disappear in the next thirty seconds i’ll call jack and things will be worse.” you got up crossing your arms like a mother. 

“jezz, fine. please don’t ground call papa” he rolled his eyes, laughing and walked away from you, disappearing from your sight. 

“that’s how you teach grown men to be normal.” you winked at dana who was watching everything mesmerized cause she begged robby to take a break and he didn’t listen. 

robby was gone for thirty minutes and no one noticed his absence. when he returned to the nursing station he saw you teaching the med students how to do a proper examination on a normal patient, listening and answering all of the questions they had like a pro. 

you got everything covered and he felt good to have someone to help without needing to ask. 

that’s why you were his favorite. 

three. 

the med students loved you. the absolutely worship the ground you walked on. they loved your patience, your mind and especially how you treated them like people. in your mind they were there to learn, which means they'll make some mistakes and that's partially fine as long as they don’t kill anybody. 

“she has a masters and a doctorate, guys!” javadi once exclaimed like she found gold at the ED. 

at some point you became their confident. you knew every little detail about their life. how withaker was living with santos, how javadi was crushing mateo really bad even how santos struggled with the loss of her friend. mel learned how to open up about her sister's situation and mohan was navigating through the loss of her father even after all this time. you even helped mckay with the legal proceedings for her to have her son back. 

you knew everything. 

during your shifts you did your best to rotate between them. each day you choose one to watch from close and teach what you know and everyday they fight to decide who stays with you but after dr santos and whitaker dared to start a fist fight robby and dana choose for them. 

robby and jack were a little jealous of you, especially because you’re a smooth talker and you charmed everyone who listened. 

“it’s unfair how they follow you around like some sort of queen bee.” robby almost cried with his words. 

“i heard they have a groupchat with you, is it true?” jack nearly jumps from his seat. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you sipped your coffee. 

“oh you know exactly what i’m saying.” he shots back and you laughed hard. 

“are you jealous of them? from what i’ve known you don’t even like interns, abbot.” 

“yeah, but i like to know what they say about my girl.” 

“they call her mama bear, brother.” robby looked at his hands trying to hold a chuckle. 

they’re definitely jealous. 

you use your time to teach them some valuable lessons. you help them navigate in the transition of becoming a doctor. smoothly and nice, just like you learned. 

“you know, santos, i’ll be honest, you need to review your way of talking with people.” you were beside her with crossing arms, watching her stitch a patient. 

your voice was hard and soft at the same time. 

“i’m only rude to the jerks.” you hold your laugh. 

“at one moment you’ll start to see all of them as jerks and this can’t happen.” you warned her softly. “imagined if you’re the one in their position. would you like to be treated like that?” 

she stared at you and nodded gently, sighing at your words. 

“what if i can’t do that?” 

“you will call me and we’ll try a different approach.” you touch her shoulder and squeeze. “i don’t want you to be cold and indifferent. the medicine needs to make you feel something. you’re doing a good thing for someone you like or not.”

they listen to you and they care. if you say something immediately they’ll do it and will make it like their life depends on it. 

at your birthday, for example, they made you a cake from scratch and even decorated it with pink frost and a glitter candle. you burst out laughing just for them to do that for you. no one else got a cake, just you. 

they even wrote you a small letter. 

“thank you for being the best teacher for us. we loved you, mama bear.  lots of love and hugs from your students.”

you were really grateful for those kids and they were grateful you’re their teacher. 

four. 

langdon was a problematic guy. it was no secret. he knew it, you knew it. but he was an exceptional doctor. no discussions about that. it was a fact. 

when he first started struggling with his addiction he came to you. something was happening to him and you got it in your heart that in the right moment he would talk. 

and he did.

he always talked about his problems with you. he came to talk about his marriage and how scared he was to broke things off with abby, how scared he was of being a shitty father. he viewed you more like an older sister, a protector of him. he liked how you never judged his fears, he liked the way you listened and tried to put some sense into his mind to do the right things. 

but this time it was different. it was worse. eating him alive. 

you were working a double shift when he found you in the stairs eating a burger in peace. you offered him some and he denied it. the air around him was thick, heavy and sad. he was a broken man and the sight almost broke your heart. 

“talk to me, frank.” 

“i fucked up.” you nodded, putting your food away to hold his hand.

“heard about it.” he sighed and you could see how embarrassed he was. “you need to get some help. i can’t see you struggling and acting like nothing's wrong. i like you too much to close my eyes and pretend.”

“i’m going to rehab. eleven months.” you smile. “robby is pretty pissed at me.” you both laughed. 

“good for you, frank.” your hand find his shoulder “you’re gonna get better. i’ll be there to help you whenever you need someone to talk, to eat burgers or talk shit about our job.the world is pretty fucked and i’m pretty sure you need a chance to make things right from your mistakes, you hear me?”

he nodded feeling a little less lost knowing you’ll be there to help. he wasn’t alone anymore and when he understood he had you by his side, the journey was smoother. 

five. 

jack abbot was a man of darkness. he worked so much better at night. it was his comfort zone. 

until you showed up years ago and messed up this whole dark theme he had planned for himself. 

working doubles wasn’t strange to you. you have bills to pay and things to accomplish and no time to waste. you two get along pretty well. more than well, actually. you were unstoppable together and everybody knew that. even walsh recognize you were good. she liked you (a miracle in jack’s view) a lot. 

you knew better than to date another doctor. you did this once and ended up in a pretty bad divorce. and with jack? you didn’t care anymore. 

he also knew better than to date another doctor. to date anyone actually. but no one was you. no one had a contagious laughter like yours. no one had a brain like yours. 

he was pretty sure god, or whatever divine figure, sent you just for him. 

the whole ‘soulmate’ story was a lie to him, until it wasn’t. you definitely was his soulmate. his favorite person.

his person. 

from the quiet drive home after a shift. from the warmth of your body curled around him. even your cold feet touching his feet in the middle of the night. 

falling for you was so easy if you like to observe things from a closer perspective. he noticed how you always have something red when you work the night shift and how you have something green at the day shift. he noticed you liked your coffee sweet for normal shifts and how you drink your coffee black at night.

he observes how you treat everyone, how you greet them with a bright smile and the coziest hugs even on your worst day. he could spend hours watching you talk (he does that everytime you pick an online class to teach) or breathe (he watched your sleep like a crazy psycho). 

you’re his person when you grab him coffee without him asking, when you sneak a sweet in the pocket of his scrubs. when you catch his gaze from across the room. when you start rambling about some gossip you heard through dana. when you talk to yourself trying to remember the article you just published.

to be loved is to be seen and he sees you. 

 you’re his person when he knows you’re his. 

he knows you are his girl when you’re sitting in his bed with his shirt and his socks, messy bun, glasses, computer on your lap, cup of tea in the nightstand and his dog laying at your feet waiting for you to move. the comfortable silence. the white noise of the television playing something he lost track of what it was. it’s when he looks at you like you’re his salvation from the darkness. it’s the words that come through his mind when he writes you a letter or a note. 

“i think i’m going crazy.” you whisper looking at him for a second.

“where is this coming from?” he chuckled. 

��just checking if you agree or not.” you winked and he laughed hard. 

“pretty funny until you start accusing me of madness.” 

“i could never! it was one time, c’mon.” he took your glasses and held your face. 

“you’re the most gorgeous thing i’ve ever seen.” love. that was love from him. 

he doesn’t feel bad showing you who he really is. you’ve seen him, really seen him. you love him for who he is, good baggage or bad. you love his mean remarks, his type of affection. you love how he is quiet. you love how he balances his life going to therapy, talking to someone. you find it funny how he tries to hide a smile when you compliment him. how he flustered when you kiss him in public. how he loves when you bake cookies for him. 

“i loved your brownies. did you put some coffee this time? best one so far. love you. -j”

to be loved is to be seen and you see him. 

it’s the hope of a future he know it’s worth fighting for because you’re his person. you’re his present.

the kind of love that doesn't need words to be there (but he has a ring in his drawer waiting for the right moment). 

[thatlittlered]

rings of power men | tropes

warning(s): light TROP spoilers, gn!reader used throughout

author's note: most of these will be turned into actual fics :)

-.-.-

Elrond + friends to lovers

GIF by @fukutomichi

As kind as summer, as gentle as the soft rays of sun upon your faces whilst you sit in each other's company and he is weaving, unbeknownst to you, tales of your wit and beauty in his mind; poems he would never dare show you. It was love long before either of you knew what to call it.

Gil-galad + opposites attract

GIF by @fukutomichi

Born and raised the son of kings, Gil-galad has known nothing but duty during his lifetime. A King neither ventures, nor tries his hand at passing affections, and yet the curse of a still beating heart inevitably finds him when his lieutenant and trusted friend Círdan is apprenticed by a lovely lowly elf.

Celebrimbor + soulmates

GIF by @dailyflicks

It is instant, absolute. As if the two of you were born a mystical creature, bearing two faces, four arms and four legs, until the Valar separated you and forced you to spend eternity searching for your other half. In the worst of times and the most unlikely of places, the search has come to cease. Alas, so has the time of peace.

Arondir + forbidden love

GIF by @lousolversons

The Silvan elf comes to respect the race of men for what they are during his time in the Southlands and whilst he dare not admit it, it does pertain with knowing you. It is hard to care for the hateful gazes of villagers when your own gaze is so tender under the moonlight, your hands cold and decisive when you touch him here where no one can hear or see. Though he has not tasted mortality, it must taste like you and the urgency you kiss him with, as if in fear the sun might never rise again.

Elendil + forbidden love, age gap

GIF by @frodo-sam

This man was born to be your dutiful protector, loyal like no other and sworn to serve you as his ruler with everything he has. Loyalty and love tend to melt into each other, merge so that it is impossible to tell them apart. It is a tormenting, silent agreement that neither of you may speak on these feelings and yet, it... overwhelms.

Valandil + childhood sweethearts

GIF by @fukutomichi

To know and love Valandil comes as easy as breathing air. You have been doing both for just as long, you think. Childish adoration blossoms in time until your souls are tethered and he will commit his life to earning rank and making it official, from the streets of Númenor to the edge of the world, where he hopes to travel with you.

Isildur + love triangle, second chance

GIF by @vidalharkness

Isildur has always held a deep admiration for you, a childish infatuation even, but your bond with Valandil always comes before all and he happily accepts things as they are for a long time. Friendship is of equal, if not grander, worth and he considers both of you his dear friends above all. Until Valandil is killed, that is. The love each of you have for him and each other perseveres until grief threatens to swallow you whole. On the precipice of desperation, a teary kiss is meant to bring comfort. Yes, of course. That is what this must be.

-.-.-

bonus:

Adar + enemies to lovers

GIF by @anthemias

Sauron saw in you every weakness, every earthly, pathetic desire to be appreciated and loved when everyone and everything has been cruelly ripped from you. To be part of something larger than the pain eating away at your chest until your days in Middle Earth are over and you can find refuge in the arms of those who unlike you, gave their lives for a greater cause. He saw and took full advantage. Adar sees it now too when he looks at you; the agony of knowing you have played into the hands of evil itself just as he has. There is always a sliver of affection in understanding another, is there not?

[cece693]

Just an idea that suddenly came to mind. What if you (the reader) have to fight Bucky during his winter soldier programming? What if something similar occurs to you guys as it did with Vision and Wanda? I plan for this to be divided into two parts since I don't have an ending in mind and this post isn't doing it for me. Hope you enjoy!

I Forgive You

pairing: bucky barnes x gender neutral reader tags: bucky can't catch a break, you are strong (power and skill wise), takes place during infinity war, open ended

You perch on the edge of the facility’s rooftop, the evening breeze ruffling through your hair as you stare off into the distance. The compound below you hums with activity—footsteps, clanging metal, distant voices—evidence of the Avengers preparing for the battles to come. You’re one of them now, and not just any member: you’re often dubbed the “strongest Avenger.” Some might say that’s an exaggeration, but you know what you’re capable of. You’ve trained in every form of combat you could get your hands on—hand-to-hand, swords, firearms. And to cap it all off, you possess powers that make you a formidable force, even among Earth’s mightiest heroes.

Still, when you’re alone, your thoughts drift to him. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes—your friend, your partner, the man you fell in love with. You think back to those frantic days when you found yourself on opposite sides in the battle between Tony and Steve. You were forging your own path, torn by loyalty and your own moral compass. Bucky was caught in the crossfire of past sins and present accusations. Through the chaos, you discovered each other and headed to Wakanda for Bucky to finally heal and escape the ghosts of his past. But things never were that easy.

The last 'normal' day you had with him you'll treasure for eternity. Bright golden rays washed over the Wakandan horizon the morning Shuri completed Bucky’s deprogramming. The moment felt surreal, the two of you standing among those tall grasses and budding flowers, watching the sun’s first light spread across the sky. Bucky’s hand tentatively found yours, his metal fingers brushing your palm. Despite all the horrors you’d both seen, despite the fracture lines left in his mind, he looked at you like you were his anchor to a life without darkness.

“You okay?” you asked him quietly, lacing your fingers with his.

He gave you a lopsided smile. “I’m not sure I deserve to be, but for the first time in a while, I feel almost free.”

And you believed him. You had to—he needed that belief.

Of course, that's when Thanos appeared, drawing you and Bucky into the largest battle Earth had ever faced. Battle lines were drawn in Wakanda, where countless outriders of Thanos’s army threatened to overrun the nation.

During the fray, you unleashed the full extent of your powers. Energy crackled around you, turning each of your blows into seismic shockwaves. You were almost unstoppable. At your side, Bucky fought with lethal precision, his vibranium arm glinting in the sunlight as bullets whizzed past. The synergy between you two was remarkable, like a dance choreographed through countless training hours and mutual trust.

But trust is fragile in the face of unimaginable power.

Suddenly, you felt a colossal presence. Looking up, your gaze locked onto the towering figure of Thanos. He stepped through the remnants of the battlefield, the Infinity Gauntlet glowing with stolen Stones. Even from a distance, you saw his gaze flick over your form, and something sparked behind his violet eyes—recognition. Fear, perhaps. The Titan raised his armored hand. A wave of twisted energy arced in your direction. You braced yourself, arms crossed in front of your body, channeling every ounce of power you had to shield your allies from the blast. Still, the force knocked you back, sending you tumbling across the ravaged earth.

When the shock subsided, a chill shot down your spine. You stood, shaking off the impact, and found the battlefield too quiet. Your eyes landed on Bucky just in time to see him freeze. His face contorted; his pupils dilated. It happened in a split second.

Hydra’s trigger words, carried on a faint, telepathic echo you couldn’t hear but Bucky could. An alien whisper from Thanos’s cosmic manipulations. And just like that, the Winter Soldier emerged once more. His steel-blue eyes turned ice-cold. The gentle man you loved disappeared behind an all-too-familiar mask of lethal focus. He turned away from the outriders, ignoring Thanos for the moment. His sights honed in on you.

“Bucky?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his lips parted, eyes dark with an unspoken mission. This time, the programming was crystal clear: Take you out. Kill the one threat that even Thanos couldn't account for. Your greatest strength had painted a target on your back. You raised your hands, glowing with the power you wielded. But your heart pounded. Could you really fight him at full strength? Bucky—your Bucky—was somewhere behind that cold stare.

“Stand down!” Steve’s voice cut through the chaos, but Bucky didn’t listen. He pivoted, leveling his gun at Steve, forcing the Captain to dodge.

“Barnes, snap out of it!” Natasha shouted, but her attempts to get close were cut off by a brutal strike from Bucky’s vibranium arm. Everyone else was busy trying to fend off the onslaught of Thanos’s forces. Your team needed your power, but now you were pinned in a conflict of your own.

Bucky lunged at you, knife flashing. You parried with your forearm, each metallic clash echoing in the war-torn field. You had no intention of hurting him, so you held back, turning your power inward, using just enough to keep him off-balance. His movements were a lethal dance—calculated, relentless, unstoppable. Blow after blow, you deflected each strike, trying to talk him down. “Bucky, it’s me!” you cried, voice cracking. “You don’t want to do this!”

For a heartbeat, his eyes seemed to flicker, memories surfacing. The time you both sat under the Wakandan sunrise, the moments you’d shared—everything hung between you. Then the programming crushed it back down. His knife sliced through the air again. You twisted, sidestepping, but you were too concerned with not harming him, too torn by love and heartbreak. The blade found its mark.

A searing pain tore through your abdomen. Your eyes went wide, and a gasp tore from your throat. One heartbeat, two—time slowed. Your hands flew to the wound, crimson blooming across your fingertips. The world started spinning.

Bucky stood over you, knife still gripped in his metal hand. His expression was empty, but the second he saw your blood pooling on the battlefield, the mask began to crack. His breathing quickened; panic gripped him. Something deep within those blue eyes shattered.

“No,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

You collapsed to your knees, desperately trying to keep pressure on the wound. The pain was staggering, and your vision wavered at the edges as you fought against the darkness creeping in. The din of the battlefield—roaring explosions, clashing metal, and desperate shouts—faded into an echo, leaving only the trembling sound of Bucky’s voice. The knife clattered to the ground from his shaking hand, the cold light in his eyes replaced by raw horror.

Bucky dropped beside you, arms sliding around your body. Another wave of agony made you cry out, yet you clung to the faint relief of his warmth—even if it was stained by regret. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. His vibranium hand cradled your cheek as though you were made of porcelain. “I’m so sorry.”

The Winter Soldier façade seemed to shatter then, peeling away like a final layer of armor. What remained was Bucky Barnes—the man you loved, tears tracking down his face in heart-wrenching clarity. Meeting his gaze, you rallied the last of your strength, silently conveying what words couldn’t: You forgave him. You loved him.

In the distance, Thanos lumbered toward the heart of the battle, where your fellow Avengers continued to fight, unaware of the private tragedy unfolding. The war raged on, but in that moment, time felt suspended—for you, for Bucky, for everything else that mattered.

With trembling fingers, he pressed down on your wound, desperate to stop the flow of blood. “Not you too,” he pleaded, voice tight with fear. “Please don’t leave me.” You forced a weak smile; you refused to let your final expression be one of despair. You wouldn’t let Bucky’s last memory of you be filled with nothing but tears and regret.

Bucky’s grip on you tightened, as if he could anchor you to consciousness by sheer will. Each breath you took felt like shards of glass in your lungs, but you clung to awareness, swallowing down the pain.

“Stay with me,” Bucky begged. He looked up frantically, searching for help that was nowhere to be found—Shuri was likely in the labs, the medical units were overrun, and Wakanda’s defensive lines were collapsing under Thanos’s onslaught. “I’ll—I’ll get you to someone. We’ll find a healer—”

“Bucky.” Your voice trembled, but you forced each syllable past your dry lips. You reached up with a shaking hand, brushing aside a strand of his hair matted with dirt and sweat. “Don’t…don’t blame yourself.”

His eyes squeezed shut as tears rolled freely, wetting the blood-streaked dirt beneath you both. The regret in his gaze was heartbreaking. “I wasn’t in control,” he rasped, “but it was still my hand. And I—”

You pressed weakly against his cheek with your palm, stopping him. You didn’t have enough breath to argue, so you let your eyes speak your truth: He had been a pawn once again, manipulated by Thanos’s cruel plans. You forgave him—truly. He held your hand against his stubbled jaw, turning his face into your touch. His vibranium arm remained clamped over your wound, red seeping over silver. Every passing second felt like a lifetime.

Above you, the sky lit up with another shower of blasts, the barrier around Wakanda flickering under the assault. Your teammates were fighting valiantly—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, T’Challa—all risking their lives to push Thanos back. But you knew the Titan’s power was immense. If even your strength might not be enough to stop him, how could anyone else stand a chance? In your heart, you felt a pang of guilt for not being out there, protecting the team as you always had. But there was no denying your body was failing, and Bucky’s terrified eyes told you he could feel it too.

“Help!” His cry rose into the chaos, ragged and desperate. “Somebody help!”

[blakeswritingimagines]

How They View You

Quinn Hughes: You have a way of making him feel understood and seen, and he always feels comfortable being himself around you. You are his biggest cheerleader and his loudest supporter. You have a way of bringing out the best in him, and he finds himself constantly striving to be a better person for you.

Jack Hughes: He'd say you were like his favorite hockey stick - always there for him, reliable and trustworthy, but also full of surprises. You're the kind of person who can make him smile no matter what, and who always has his back. You're like his best friend, his biggest fan, and his most trusted advisor all rolled into one.

Luke Hughes: His partner is also his biggest cheerleader, always believing in him even when he doubts himself. You are incredibly supportive and understanding, always there to listen and offer advice when needed.

Nico Hischier: He'd say his partner is someone who brings a lot of joy and excitement into his life. Your sparkling personality and playful nature always keep things interesting, making it hard to ever be bored in your company.

Timo Meier: You are the most beautiful person he's ever met, inside and out. You have a radiant personality that can light up any room you enter, and a heart of gold that always puts the needs of others before your own.

Dawson Mercer: You are the first person he wants to share good news with and the one he turns to for comfort when he's feeling down. You have a passion and drive that is contagious and inspires him to be the best version of himself.

John Marino: You are his rock, his safety net, and his home. When he's with you, he feels like he can take on the world. You have a kind heart and an unwavering loyalty that he admires deeply. You have a unique way of making even the mundane things in life feel exciting and new.

Kirby Dach: He views you as someone who is not only his romantic partner, but also his best friend. You're someone who he can always count on to have his back, no matter what. You're funny, loyal, kind, and someone who always knows how to make him laugh.

Juraj Slafkovsky: You are his sounding board, giving honest feedback and constructive criticism when necessary. You are also his greatest source of comfort, always giving the best hugs, and knowing just the right things to say to make him feel better.

Arber Xhekaj: You are someone who constantly lights up his life with your presence. You brighten up any room you walk into, not just with your physical appearance, but also with your kind and lively personality. Your sparkling eyes and contagious smile make it impossible not to feel uplifted when you're around.

Cole Caufield: He'd describe you as a ray of sunshine, someone who brings warmth and joy into his life. Your presence has a way of brightening even the darkest days, and your smile is like a beam of light that can instantly make him feel better.

Trevor Zegras: You are the one who sees him at his best and his worst, and loves him unconditionally anyway. You're the one who makes him laugh the hardest, and the one who drives him the craziest. You're the one who knows his every quirk and odd habit and accepts him for who he is, flaws and all. You're the one who makes him feel safe and secure in the world, and who he can't imagine spending his life without.

Jamie Drysdale: His romantic partner is his best friend, someone he has fun with and can be completely himself around. It's like having a partner in crime who also happens to be your partner in cuddles and cheesy movie nights.

Matt Rempe: He would describe you as someone who lights up any room you walk into. You have a kind heart and a contagious laugh that can make even the worst day feel better. You're also incredibly smart and fiercely independent, which is a huge turn-on for him. But most of all, you're always there for him, no matter what. You've seen him at his best and his worst, and you love him anyway.

[amphitriteswife]

Foolish love

Pairing: Jonggun x reader

Source: Lookism

Summary: visiting Jonggun in jail

Genre: angsty. Sort of fluff idk tbh

Warmings: it sucks ass and its short but uhh its one of my 101838227 concepts about him

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‘I love you.’ Jonggun sighed as he heard the words leave your mouth. His hands were finally free of those annoying handcuffs. His body still healing from injuries and damage he took during the many fights he experienced some days ago. Most of them were patched up or in bandages, the only one being visible was the bruising near his right eye. Really, your words made him tired, but to you it was different. Your words were full of emotion, they were genuine. Something Jonggun knew himself. Yet he still thought it was foolish. Love is foolish.

Jonggun already saw how Love made one of his pupils blind, he was talking about Eli Jang. Someone he favored for a long time over Johan or Samuel. Eli had the motivation, the talent, the strength to walk in the footsteps Jonggun had. Yet he threw it all away for a woman. And look where it got him. Eli experienced even more problems, questioning his own morals, all for the sake of his family and daughter. One can understand why, one can sympathize, and one can relate. Yet Jonggun still never understood why he would throw it all away. How foolish of him.

Just as how he thought that Eli’s love for Heather is foolish. He considers your love for him foolish. Something you shouldn’t have for him. Something you never should’ve had since the beginning. What he wanted was someone who could kill him. Someone that could handle him in a fight. Admiration. Motivation. Money. Will power. When he met you, you had it all. You still do. You put up a fight he never experienced. He didn’t have to fight so many others to get to the main point. It wasn’t a fights based on purposes or goals. Just seeing who was stronger. Who could really tear off one’s skin. Who had more experience. Who had more power. Who had more stamina. Both of you didn’t get to lose, nor win as the fight was broken up. But it didn’t go to waste either. No matter where you went or what you did. Jonggun saw pleasure in chasing you and taking every opportunity to test you once again. And every time he looked even more unhinged, even Goo admitted that he found him creepy sometimes.

The open mouthed smile. The white ray of teeth. The salvia still hanging off it. And every time he was in UI state, which made him look even more demonic. Jonggun was a devil who had good morals. Sometimes. Yet did a lot of questionable things. He was crazy, yet that’s the sole purpose of why you found him attractive. Isn’t it weird? How do did you ever come to love someone like him?

‘You’re foolish.’ Is what he said. He didn’t even sound angry. Nor sad. Nor disappointed. It was just a deadpanned sentence. It didn’t hold any meaning. Any emotion. Nothing at all. It sucked. It really did. It’s not like you wanted to love him either. His piercing eyes that most found chilling were beautiful to you. The creepiness of them always made you very intrigued. Even now, when you’re pouring your heart out, he’s uninterested. Perhaps a cold prison does really fit him. But the same could be said to you, you met him there exactly 3 years ago after all. Together with Charles, a man who was just a cleaner of the prison who caused all this mess. Even to you it was all vague and unclear, the only reason you ever went along with Charles was for Jonggun. It was all for him. Everything was.

‘You suck... If it was up to me, i could do anything for you.’ You told him bluntly. It made him raise an eyebrow. He never noticed how attached you were to him. Perhaps he never noticed it all. Why did it even matter? It’s not like you ever wanted something with him to begin with. It’s not something you expected. He’s a loyal person, just not a romantic. But that’s enough. Because although his loyalty laid with Charles, yours laid with him. It’s funny isn’t it? He called you a fool, yet he’s the foolish one for not noticing how the two of you were so similar…yet so different. Seeing him against the other side of the glass in a dark blue uniform. It brought back lots of memories. Yet this time you felt much more saddend. You weren’t in love with him. But you loved him. You wanted him to be happy. To finally be free from Charles, yet when it happend it wasn’t what you thought it would be…how disappointing.

Jonggun on the other hand laughed a little at your sentence when he thought about it. You would do everything for him? How loyal. But truly, that’s not something he wanted. He wanted to be left alone, he declined your offer to see him many times, every time he didn’t even mention why. What an ass. Sometimes he didn’t even show up. Even now when you’re in front of him, pleading and confused. Tears streaming down your face, begging him to at least let you help him. He still only apologized for making you cry without giving you an answer to anything. He always left you in the dark, only telling things that seemed necessary. He could only just stare at you from the other side of the glass with hand pressed against yours, just the thick glass in between both the hands. He only told you some words you couldn’t even understand. Something you still don’t get. Not why. Not when. Not how. But you’ll still follow them anyway. He knows it and so do you. No matter what jonggun says. You’ll always follow them. Just like how he followed Charles

‘Wait for me.’

Those are the only 3 words he told you before leaving on his own regard, he still had time left. Even the guards were confused. But it’s Jonggun. He’s never one to speak much about his feelings or emotions anyway…so once again you’re left in the darknwith unanswered questions and uncertain feelings. What a jerk…a jerk you cared about.

Thank yall for readin :P 🩵🤍

[finnfrei]

I would love to hear more about your bard and her dragonborn 🥺👉👈

Aww, thank you so much for asking! Tbh, I always feel shy sharing the stories of my OCs, so I really appreciate your interest🩵

Where do I even begin? (Also, English is not my first or even second language, so I apologize for my poor writing in advance).

Clio is my changeling bard from our current homebrew DnD campaign and she’s the little ray of sunshine, who’s hiding her trauma behind a cheerful innocent smile. Or at least she used to be up until the party’s current adventure in Avernus. Quite early in life she realized how easy it is to lure secrets from people, when you look cute and play dumb.

Once she set out on an adventure with the party, she had a dream. A charming stranger in a dragon mask at a ball challenged her to play a complex composition. Non of what she saw on the music sheet he gave her made sense, it couldn’t sound good. But Clio was not the one to fuck around with and she started playing, struggling at first, but getting the grip of it. As the music played, the dirty secrets of people in the room started to reveal themselves to her overflowing her mind. The man asked her to meet him in the house of upper city where the party was headed.

That was how she met him, the man in the mask wasn’t a man she saw in the dream, but an emerald Dragonborn. Hescan was a commander of Secret Police and Master of College of Whispers. This tough mountain of muscles with cold gaze and devious grin was barely showing any genuine emotions. It felt familiar, she’s so used to putting on a mask herself, different ones, but still. He played cool and unbothered. Some even might say he looked dangerous, but Clio had met dangerous, cruel men way too many times before and wasn’t so easily fooled by him. She found it adorable on him. The feeling of safety around him puzzled her. He suggested her to work for him, collecting information, dragging skeletons out of others closets. She thought it would be fun to finally get paid for something she does anyway, never taking the job too seriously though. And well, girl asked for the direction of the nearest brothel, hoping to get some intelligence from local prostitutes, knowing full well about the amount of secrets kept by all the creatures, who aren’t taken seriously by rich and powerful. However, the dragonborn jokingly suggested her his bedroom. Joke got out of control. Bards being bards, I guess.

It all started with both of them trying to get intimate, “have fun” just to let down the other’s guard to get under their skin and lure more secrets from each other. Learn each other’s weaknesses, but also trying to secure the other’s loyalty. Hescan was playing cool and distant, meanwhile Clio was taunting him any time she saw an opportunity, shamelessly trying the limits of his patience. She liked to call him “pretty boy” and only called him “chief” in jest, he knew it also turned her on.

Eventually the more they learned the more they started to genuinely care about one another. They both knew what it was like feeling your body, your boundaries violated, used for someone else’s sick whims. They found comfort, they knew they were safe with each other, even if just for the night. Although they both had a hard time admitting it. After all it would mean to admit they had lost the game.

Now with a few years passed, they still have hard time fully trusting each other, given their occupation. She still makes fun of him, he finds it cute. He knows he can rely on her, so as she does.

There were so many sweet and funny moments between these two and to be honest the scenes where they admitted their feelings to each other, letting down their guards, live rent free in my mind.

[mrsdesade]

Hey, could you write a homelander x reader where she works at Vought and unknowingly gets his attention and he stalks her?

Hi dear anon, thanks for your patience!! I don't have much time to write full fics these days, because life is happening and I'm very busy physically and mentally, but I can happily offer some headcanons 💕

Homelander's obsessive behaviors headcanons

First of all, his romantic gestures, while seemingly sweet, are often rooted in his need for control and his inability to understand healthy relationships. His actions can be seen as manipulative and even frightening, especially when considering his overall personality and powers.

Constant surveillance: He would employ his super hearing and x-ray vision to keep a constant watch on you. He might use these abilities to monitor your home, workplace, or any other place you frequently visit.

Data collection: He'd collect as much information as possible about his current obsession: you. This could include your daily routines, social media activity, and even your deepest fears and desires. He might use his Vought resources to access private databases.

Preserving memories: Homelander might keep a collection of items that remind him of you, like a lock of your hair or a piece of your clothing. Oh God If you gift something to him, he's going to cherish this like a museum piece.

Love bombing: He'll shower you with love and attention, he loves doing it, especially at the beginning of the relationship, to reel you in.

Unwanted gifts: Homelander would often leave small, often expensive gifts for his favourite persons in unexpected places. These gifts could be anything from flowers to jewelry, and they would always be personalized to show how well he knows you. Often with small notes inside. Doll, baby, my girl, nicknames are on plate.

Sudden appearances: Homelander would frequently appear where you least expects him. He might show up at yor work, your home, or even a random location you're visiting. At least three times at week, minimum.

Testing your loyalty: He might create situations to test your loyalty to him. This could involve putting you in a difficult position or asking you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.

Excessive praise: When you two are together he would shower you with compliments, often going overboard and making you feel uncomfortable. He might even compare you to other people, always putting you on a pedestal. You're his precious treasure and he loves you so goddamn much.

Isolation tactics: He might try to isolate you from their friends and family at some point, making you believe that he is the only one who truly understands your needs.

Future planning: He might make elaborate plans for your future together, down to the smallest details, without ever consulting you. He'll make grand plans for the two of you for sure. This could include things like buying a house together or having children.

Gaslighting: If you decide to start to question his behavior, Homelander might resort to gaslighting. He could make you doubt their own perceptions and memories, making you believe that you're just imagining things.

Public displays of affection: Homelander might engage in very public displays of affection, such as putting his arm around you in front of a crowd, or giving you a very long, lingering kiss. This is partly to show off his "perfect couple" image, but also to mark his territory.

Obsession with physical touch: Homelander might find ways to touch you, in every moment, he need that, even if it's just brushing against them or holding their hand. He would crave any form of physical contact.

Nightmares and sleep disturbances: His obsession for you would consume his thoughts, leading to vivid nightmares and difficulty sleeping. He might even develop a fear of losing you really easily. Despite his outward confidence, Homelander has a deep-seated fear of being abandoned. This fear can lead him to become increasingly possessive and controlling.

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Thanks again for the request, enjoy! Kisses kisses! 💕

[calisources]

THE   ROYAL   TREATMENT.   all   sentences   are   either   taken   from   fantasy   or   fictional   and   historical   novels   about   kings,   queens,   royal   blood   and   some   sparked   romance   and   magic.   change   all   pronouns   and   names,   locations   as   you   see   fit.

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.”

“He was a man known for the violence of his temper as well as the deliciousness of his touch.”

“Am I making you nervous, Natalie?”

“Sad it is, the fate of kings.”

“Go to this masquerade ball with your new friends, put on a pretty gown, and dance the night away.”

“Repentance is like a royal cheer.”

“Even the small joys are worth cherishing, and they will lead to greater ones.”

“when you become king shall find many difficult tasks and you shall have to hurt others and yourself.”

“The throne brings trouble and grief along with the glory.”

“Anger is a feeling afforded only by royal blood. Ordinary people ask for mercy in such situations.”

“True leadership is serving others; follow Queen Elizabeth's noble example.”

“Success isn't wealth or status; impact matters.”

“The power of empowerment can change the world, one person at a time.”

“Leadership is service, not a throne to seize.”

“I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine.”

“Proper training is key, it allows one to accomplish a great deal."

“Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky."

“Royalty comes with a cost. My great-great-grandfather was one, and he left me no royalty but loyalty to empower people.”

“At all times an empire is more important than emperor and empress, prince and princess.”

“You might have to ask yourself, however right your claim is, if you are the leader the realm needs and wants.”

“You’re Royal. Get used to it and that involves a lot of burdens and things you don’t want to do.”

“I’m in awe of you, Rowan Palotay.”

“Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?”

“Prayer is a royal power.”

“You forget yourself and who you are speaking of.”

“Anyone young, famous and beautiful who dies young is forever frozen in time and fascinating to all of us.”

“Youths are the life blood of any nation.”

“I am not yet come of age, my lord. How can I be queen?”

“To crown her is to kill her.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.”

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.”

“...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.”

“I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man!”

“She was made to be a queen, just like her mother.”

Protect Myrcella with your life. Defend her... and her rights. Set a crown upon her head.“”

“You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.”

“For dogs we kings should have lions, and for cats, tigers. The great benefits a crown.”

“This marriage had resulted from impulse.”

“The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.”

“One does not ask if one likes the Blood Royal. They simply are. It is like asking if one likes the Gods.”

“You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.”

“The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.”

“You seem to think that you can still turn back, but it’s too late. You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.”

“Was it worse, she wondered, to be wanted dead or wanted Queen?”

“My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.”

“Respect shouldn't be hereditary; it must be earned.”

“You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.”

“There is nothing sharper than a well mannered princess’ words.Their true meaning are a mystery.”

“People are born great but yet need to grow into greatness”

“Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.”

“She was their witch queen, and they adored her.”

“To be fair, I don't quite see any difference between an assassin and a knight. They both kill people, only one "in the name of Honour '' and the other is just a "monster"

“Crowns belong to those that serve.”

“I have the softness and meekness of a daughter but I also have the boldness and Braveheart of a Son.”

“Will you visit my chambers tonight?”

“A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.”

“Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.”

“The Princess knew in her heart she is strong, smart, and capable because it is in her blood.”

“There is the matter of succession that has to be settled. You don’t start a reign without settling how it continues.”

“My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?”

“Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.”

“Often blessings and burdens comes hand in hand. The bigger the Crown the heavier the burden”

“If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.”

“Some girls have a frightening killer instinct. Don't let the ball gowns fool you.”

“You don't turn your back on your destiny.”

[patrixjia]

Velvet Chains (Part III)

Plot Overview:

Y/N is caught between her father’s crumbling empire and Chan’s rebellion. As she help Chan track down missing operatives, their bond grows, leading to a deadly confrontation that forces Y/N to question her loyalty. Chan offers a chance to dismantle her father’s empire, and though torn, Y/N chooses to join him, starting a dangerous journey to reshape their future.

Warnings: BangChan!Mafia, Mafia!AU, mature themes, emotional distress, angst, violence, dangerous situations, strong language, mental health struggles, (the smut will be in the next chapter🤭)

PART I, PART II, PART IV, PART V, PART VI, FINAL PART

Author note:

Well, well, well, look at us—third chapter in, and I’m still alive to tell the tale! 😂 This chapter? Yeah, it’s a beast. I’ve never written anything this long or complex, and honestly, I’m half-wondering if I’ve accidentally started writing an entire novel instead of just a chapter. But here we are, diving into some serious emotional roller coasters, plot twists, and the kind of chaos that makes me question my sanity.

I really hope you all enjoy this wild ride as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it (even if it has given me a few grey hairs along the way). Your support means the world to me! So buckle up, we’re just getting started. And, as always, drop me a comment if you’re loving or hating something—I’m here for all of it. Let’s keep this adventure going! ✨ Also, just a little heads up… the next chapter is going to get a little smuttier 😉.

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The first rays of sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, the muted warmth doing little to soften the chill that lingered in the room. You stretched, pushing off the weight of sleep with a growing restlessness. The space was luxurious but sterile, the kind of calculated opulence that screamed control rather than comfort.

When the door creaked open, breakfast was placed on a table near the window, and the figure delivering it slipped out as quickly as they’d come. You ignored it, slipping through the door before it could click shut. You weren’t going to spend the morning caged.

The hallways were quiet, the air filled with a faint hum of electricity. The mansion was sprawling but not ostentatious, its corridors lined with muted artwork and design choices that reeked of deliberation. It wasn’t your father’s world of obvious power and intimidation. It was colder. Subtler.

You found yourself wandering into a study. Unlike the other rooms, this one felt alive. A faint coffee scent lingered, mixing with the tang of paper and leather. A massive map dominated one wall, scattered with colored pins and strings. You moved closer, scanning the markings.

It didn’t take long to piece together what you were looking at. It was a blueprint of Victor’s empire—supply chains, strongholds, key distribution hubs. The red pins marked locations already compromised, while others, still green, pulsed with potential. A web of alliances and pressure points sprawled before you like an open wound.

You leaned forward, your eyes narrowing as they landed on a cluster of yellow-marked routes near the northern sector. The shipping lines there were irregular, crisscrossing in ways that screamed inefficiency. You could see where Chan’s strategy was stuck—his carefully laid plans bottlenecked by gaps he hadn’t yet closed.

Your fingers brushed across the documents scattered on the desk—financials, coded logs, surveillance notes. Victor’s empire wasn’t just cracking; it was being dismantled piece by piece.

“You’re full of surprises.”

The sound of Chan’s voice cut through the stillness, low and smooth. You straightened but didn’t turn. “And you’re full of shadows. How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to wonder if I should be worried.” His tone carried its usual casual confidence, but his eyes flicked toward the papers you’d been studying. “Finding everything to your liking?”

You turned, leaning back against the desk with deliberate nonchalance. “Interesting work. Though I can’t tell if the overcomplication is intentional or just your style.”

Chan stepped closer, his hands in his pockets, his gaze sharp as it swept over you and the map. “Overcomplication?”

You tilted your head toward the yellow routes. “You’re clogging your own lanes. The northern supply chain is built for redundancy, but instead of reinforcing efficiency, you’re creating a choke point. It’s obvious Victor did it to keep people guessing, but now you’re tripping over it.”

Chan’s eyes flicked to the map, and for the first time, he hesitated. “Interesting observation.”

“Observation? No. Solution,” you corrected, stepping toward the map. “You’re trying to seize control of both eastern and northern routes simultaneously. That’s why it’s falling apart. Drop the secondary lines from the north—they’re dead weight. Consolidate the flow into two hubs instead of four, and you’ll cut transit time by half.”

He stared at the map, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” you echoed, arching an eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”

His gaze returned to you, sharper now, as if trying to read the thoughts you hadn’t spoken aloud. “Why are you helping me?”

You held his stare, refusing to flinch under the weight of his scrutiny. “Maybe I like a challenge.”

His smirk grew, slow and deliberate. “That’s not an answer.”

“No,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “It’s not.”

The room seemed to shrink under the tension, the air thick with unspoken questions. Finally, Chan broke the silence. “You know, if you keep showing off, I might start thinking you want a seat at the table.”

You crossed your arms, meeting his smirk with a wry one of your own. “Maybe I just like proving you wrong. You’re not as untouchable as you think, Chan. Your plans aren’t perfect.”

“And yet,” he countered, “here you are, improving them.”

You exhaled sharply, turning back to the map. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up.”

He chuckled, the sound low and amused. “And?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your smirk sharp as a blade. “Jury’s still out.”

Chan stepped closer, close enough that you could feel his presence but not enough to invade your space. “You’re still dodging my question, Y/N. Why help me? Are you so confident Victor can withstand it?”

Your jaw tightened at the mention of your father. “Maybe I’m not as confident in Victor as you think.”

That seemed to catch him off guard, though he quickly masked it. “Careful. That almost sounded like an admission.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you shot back, your tone lighter but no less firm. “I haven’t picked a side. Yet.”

The faintest flicker of something crossed his face—respect, intrigue, or perhaps a mix of both. “Fair enough,” he said finally. “But when you do, make sure it’s the right one.”

You laughed, the sound short and humorless. “And which side is that? Yours?”

“I’m not the one clinging to a crumbling empire,” he said smoothly. “I’m building something new. Something better.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deception, but all you found was unshakable confidence. It annoyed you as much as it intrigued you.

“Better is subjective,” you said finally.

“Then help me define it.” His voice dropped, soft but unyielding. “You’re smart enough to know the cracks in Victor’s empire can’t be patched. The question is, what do you want to see rise from the ashes?”

For the first time, you didn’t have an immediate answer.

Chan’s smirk returned, lighter now but no less self-assured. “Think about it,” he said, turning toward the door. “I’ll see if your suggestion works. But if it doesn’t…”

“It will,” you interrupted.

He paused in the doorway, glancing back with a grin that was equal parts challenging and amused. “We’ll see.”

The door closed behind him, leaving you alone with the map, the documents, and the weight of his words.

What do you want to see rise from the ashes?

The question lingered, unsettling and persistent.

And for the first time, you weren’t sure of the answer.

The days since the confrontation with Chan had been strange, to say the least. The mansion’s rhythm ebbed and flowed with calculated precision, as though every movement, every conversation, had been planned days in advance.

You spent your time exploring its sprawling halls, learning its rhythms, and testing your boundaries. The guards rarely spoke to you beyond clipped warnings when you wandered too close to restricted areas. You couldn’t tell if they were following Chan’s orders or acting out of their own wariness.

Chan, however, was different. He appeared only when he wanted to, catching you off guard with sly remarks and a confidence that made it clear he was always one step ahead. His teasing came with a sharp edge, but there was no denying the undercurrent of mutual curiosity between you.

You didn’t trust him, and he didn’t trust you. Yet, in those fleeting conversations, there was a spark—an understanding that neither of you were playing at full strength yet.

Then, one morning, the mansion’s calm shattered.

You’d been in the study, feigning interest in a book, when the sound of hurried footsteps caught your ear. The low hum of conversation from the hall was sharper today, clipped and urgent.

Moments later, Chan strode into the room, his usual composure marred by a tightness in his jaw. He moved with purpose, his focus so sharp that he didn’t acknowledge your presence.

“You’re upset,” you noted, setting the book aside.

He ignored you, striding to his desk and pulling up a screen.

Before you could push further, another figure entered the room: Changbin. His pace matched Chan’s intensity, his voice low and urgent as he spoke.

“Victor’s people hit the northern base,” Changbin reported. “They’ve taken out the comms tower. Felix and Hyunjin went dark an hour ago.”

Chan froze for a split second before his mask of control slid back into place. “Casualties?”

“None confirmed yet,” Changbin said. “But it’s not looking good. We have partial intel—they’ve shut down our local network, and the safe houses are at risk. If they’ve got Felix or Hyunjin…”

Chan exhaled through his nose, his focus razor-sharp. “Start evacuation protocols for the northern sector. Clear out the Graham location and put everyone in safe houses on standby. If they’ve been compromised, I want them out of there before Victor’s people can move.”

Your ears perked at the name, a chill running through you. “Wait—Graham and Sons?” you interrupted, stepping forward.

Both men turned to you, Chan’s eyes narrowing. “What about it?”

You frowned, your mind racing. “That’s not just a random location. It’s one of Victor’s decoy transport hubs. If you’ve got people stationed there, they’re already compromised.”

Changbin looked to Chan, his expression unreadable but tinged with suspicion. “You trust her?”

Chan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied you, his gaze intense. “How do you know that?”

“Because I grew up in this,” you shot back, folding your arms. “You think I don’t know the names he hides behind? Graham and Sons isn’t just a front. It’s bait. Victor uses it to lure out threats to his network—and he won’t hesitate to cut down anyone who gets too close.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Changbin crossed his arms. “And we’re just supposed to take her word for it?”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Fine, don’t listen to me. But if you wait too long, Felix and Hyunjin won’t be unaccounted for—they’ll be dead.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then he turned to Changbin. “Pull everyone from Graham and cross-check her intel with what we’ve got. Double it with our sources on the ground. If it matches, we move.”

Changbin hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but nodded. “On it.”

He left the room, and Chan turned back to you. His gaze was sharp, calculating. “Why help me?”

You didn’t flinch under his scrutiny. “Maybe I don’t want to see Felix and Hyunjin killed. Or maybe I’d rather not see my father win.”

Chan smirked faintly, though his eyes were still hard. “Still haven’t picked a side, have you?”

“Would you prefer I did?”

His silence spoke volumes.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you said, your voice dry.

He leaned back against the desk, his posture deceptively casual. “If your information is right, you’ll have saved lives today. If it’s not…”

"You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’ve got more cards to play,” he replied smoothly. “And I don’t trust people who keep their hands hidden.”

You stepped closer, your voice calm but firm. “Then maybe you should play smarter.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze locked on yours. Then his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I aim to keep things interesting,” you replied, your tone light but with an undercurrent of steel.

Chan pushed off the desk, brushing past you toward the door. “Keep proving yourself useful, and maybe I’ll start believing you’re not working an angle.”

You watched him go, the tension in the room thick and charged. Somewhere out there, Felix and Hyunjin were waiting—caught in the web of a game far larger than either of them could control.

And for reasons you weren’t ready to name, you hoped you’d been right.

Later that evening the tension in the mansion was palpable, an undercurrent of urgency threading through every hallway. Chan had been holed up in his office since the crisis broke, and though you were technically “off-limits” to the ongoing operation, you’d found a way to keep yourself within earshot of every critical update.

The news wasn’t promising. Felix and Hyunjin were still unaccounted for, and the evacuation of Graham and Sons had only confirmed what you’d already suspected: your father’s people had the upper hand.

When Chan’s voice called your name from the hall, you half-expected him to demand that you stay out of his way. Instead, his tone was calm, measured. Too calm.

You pushed the door open to find him standing at his desk, surrounded by screens displaying live feeds, maps, and rows of encrypted data. Changbin hovered nearby, arms crossed, tension radiating off him in waves.

Chan gestured to you without preamble. “You’ve been watching long enough. Sit.”

You raised a brow, keeping your voice steady. “I didn’t realize you were taking suggestions.”

“I’m not,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you. “I’m testing you. You know your father’s network better than anyone in this room. Prove it.”

You stepped into the room, feeling the weight of both men’s eyes on you. Taking the chair across from Chan, you crossed your legs and leaned back, affecting a confidence you weren’t entirely sure you felt.

“Where’s the hole?” you asked, nodding toward the map on the central monitor.

Chan exchanged a brief glance with Changbin before turning the screen toward you. “Here,” he said, pointing to a blinking red marker. “Safe house near Monroe. Felix and Hyunjin were scheduled to meet there, but they never checked in. No comms, no movement.”

You studied the map, your mind working quickly. Your father’s security protocols weren’t just strict—they were obsessive. If his people had cut communication lines, it wasn’t just to block intel. They were setting a trap.

“They’ll have a fallback,” you said. “Felix and Hyunjin. If they know the area’s compromised, they’ll move to the secondary site.”

“We don’t have a secondary site near Monroe,” Changbin said flatly.

“Not yours. Victor’s,” you clarified.

Chan’s brow furrowed, interest flickering in his eyes. “Explain.”

You leaned forward, pointing at the map. “Victor doesn’t trust his own men, let alone outsiders. Every base, every safe house—he sets up redundancies, but not for the reasons you think. It’s not to protect his people. It’s to catch them if they run.”

“And you think Felix and Hyunjin would know about this?” Chan asked, his tone skeptical but curious.

“They wouldn’t have to,” you said. “Victor’s patterns are predictable once you know them. He keeps fallback locations close but hidden, somewhere his own men wouldn’t think to look unless they were desperate.”

Changbin’s frown deepened. “That’s a lot of guesswork.”

You shot him a look. “Do you have a better idea?”

Chan held up a hand, silencing the argument before it could escalate. His gaze stayed on you, sharp and probing. “What kind of fallback location are we talking about?”

You tapped your fingers on the edge of the desk, recalling the layouts you’d studied for years. “Something off-grid. An abandoned structure, maybe a warehouse. He’d want it close enough to monitor, but isolated enough that no one would stumble on it by accident.”

Chan nodded slowly, his mind already working through possibilities. “Changbin, pull up the satellite maps for the area. Focus on industrial zones or decommissioned sites within a five-mile radius of the Monroe house.”

As Changbin worked, Chan turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “Why help them?”

The question hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected. You could have given him a dozen answers—some practical, some calculated—but the truth was simpler.

“Because I can,” you said quietly. “And because I don’t know yet what side I’m on.”

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Suspicion? Respect? Maybe both.

Changbin’s voice broke the silence. “Got something. Old manufacturing plant, shut down five years ago. It’s less than three miles from the safe house, just outside the patrol radius.”

Chan nodded sharply, already moving toward the door. “Prep the team. We’ll leave in five.”

To your surprise, he turned back to you, his gaze steady. “You’re coming.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You know Victor’s traps better than anyone. If this is one of them, I want you there.”

“And if I’m wrong?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

Chan smirked, his confidence infuriatingly unshaken. “Then I guess we’ll both find out.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Going with him meant stepping further into his world, further away from your father’s. It meant testing your loyalties in a way you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But it also meant a chance to prove you weren’t just a pawn in someone else’s game.

“Fine,” you said, rising to your feet. “But if this goes south, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chan’s smirk widened, and for the first time, you saw something close to genuine amusement in his eyes. “Noted.”

As the team prepared to move, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—this decision—was another crack in the foundation you’d spent your entire life standing on.

And you weren’t sure whether you were ready to see it fall.

The night had been long and tense. The team, guided by the plan you had proposed, moved quickly through the industrial zone. The dilapidated manufacturing plant you’d pinpointed turned out to be the fallback location Felix and Hyunjin had made for themselves. The security measures were minimal—just enough to keep outsiders at bay, but not enough to fool someone familiar with Victor’s tactics.

It was exactly as you’d predicted. Felix and Hyunjin had been trapped, but they hadn’t been caught. They’d already set up an escape route of their own, using an old underground access tunnel leading out of the compound.

As the operatives infiltrated the plant, you couldn’t help but feel a small rush of satisfaction. Felix and Hyunjin were safe—finally. The team worked in smooth coordination, securing them without any further casualties. You had been right all along.

“You were right,” Chan muttered as he surveyed the area with his usual stoic expression. It wasn’t much, but you caught the subtle shift in his eyes as he acknowledged your insight.

Felix gave you a tired but grateful smile. “Guess we owe you one.”

“Just don’t get caught next time,” you replied with a smirk, though the satisfaction of the mission’s success warmed something inside you.

But the victory was short-lived.

The atmosphere at the mansion had barely settled before the next wave of danger hit. As the operatives and the team returned, expecting a brief respite, a wave of alarms shattered the uneasy silence.

Chan’s hand flew to his earpiece, his voice hard as he barked orders to the team. “They’ve found us. Victor’s men are here.”

Your heart dropped as you turned to Chan, his eyes narrowing. “Get to the safe room. Now.”

Before you could even respond, the mansion was plunged into chaos. You moved quickly, following Chan and the team as they scrambled to reinforce key exits and prepare for a full-on assault. But even with the heightened security, the feeling of being hunted—of being trapped—was suffocating.

You had no time to think before the first round of gunfire hit, sharp and deafening, echoing through the halls. The mansion wasn’t just under siege; they were inside.

“Stay behind me!” Chan growled as he pulled you into a nearby hallway. You barely had time to register the sheer danger of the moment before you were crouched low, moving quickly as his operatives returned fire.

But then, in the chaos, everything seemed to happen at once. You ducked behind a pillar, narrowly avoiding a burst of gunfire. In the process, you twisted your ankle, collapsing to the ground with a painful grunt. Before you could recover, another round exploded too close to your position, a stray bullet grazing your arm.

You hissed in pain, clutching at your bleeding arm. You couldn’t focus on it; the only thing you could focus on was the sheer force of the attack. You barely heard Chan’s voice over the clamor of the assault.

“Stay down,” he barked, moving toward you with a fierce protectiveness that was uncharacteristic of his usual cold exterior.

But you didn’t have time to argue as he swept you into his arms, pulling you behind the nearest barricade. The calculated focus in his eyes never faltered. He was in command, but there was something else—an urgency to keep you safe that you hadn’t anticipated.

“Hold on,” he murmured, his voice tense as he checked your injury. You could feel his hands on you, pulling your arm gently to assess the wound. Despite the high-stakes situation, there was a tenderness in the way he moved, as though he wasn’t just trying to save you from harm—but from something deeper.

His fingers brushed your skin, an almost imperceptible gentleness in the midst of chaos. For a moment, it was just the two of you—the madness of the world outside and the calculated storm of gunfire drowned out by the shared connection.

“This won’t be the last time,” he said, his voice low as he wrapped your arm carefully, making sure the pressure was right. You could feel his fingers, light but deliberate, as he treated the wound. There was no rush, no panic.

For a brief second, you noticed something about him—something that wasn’t calculated or cold. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as though he cared more than he was willing to show.

“You’re fine,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his gaze steady, but his expression softened for just a moment. “You’re not dying on me.”

You blinked, the rawness of the moment catching you off guard. “You’re sure?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. For a moment, it was as if the world paused—if only briefly. The sounds of gunfire were a muffled background to the intensity of his focus. Then, without breaking eye contact, he tightened the bandage and stood, pulling you to your feet.

His voice was hard again as he guided you toward the nearest exit. “We don’t have time to talk. Let’s go.”

But even as you moved through the corridors, escaping the immediate danger, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the quiet moment shared between the two of you wasn’t one of simple survival. Something had shifted. Something unspoken.

And in the aftermath of the chaos, with the scent of blood and danger in the air, you realized you’d seen a side of Chan no one else had—one that made you question where your loyalties truly lay.

The hours following the attack passed in a blur. The mansion, once a fortress of impenetrable walls, now felt like a fragile shell that could crack at any moment. Chan and his team had neutralized the threat swiftly, using the knowledge you’d helped provide about Victor’s network and the strategic positions of his men. With a few tactical moves, the assailants were driven back, and though some minor damage had been done, the mansion stood strong. Felix and Hyunjin were safe. The team was intact. The immediate danger was over.

But the weight of the night hung in the air, heavy with the unsaid. The adrenaline that had coursed through your veins in the heat of battle had given way to something quieter, more complex. The echoes of gunfire were gone, but the tension between you and Chan lingered, thick and undeniable.

You were in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of water, trying to clear your mind. The events of the day had left you exhausted—physically, yes, but more so mentally. You had done your part, had proven your worth, but there was no escaping the pull that Chan seemed to have on you, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. The attraction was there, undeniable. But it was dangerous.

You felt his presence before you saw him, the subtle shift in the air when Chan entered the room. You didn’t need to turn around to know he was there—his energy filled the space. His sharp eyes on you, the silent weight of his presence, made your pulse quicken despite yourself.

“You should be resting,” he said casually, as though the tension that had laced his commands earlier had never existed. His voice, however, carried a hint of something else—an edge, a challenge.

You didn’t look up as you replied, keeping your voice steady. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” he teased, stepping closer, just enough to be in your line of sight. His gaze flickered to your arm, now bandaged and well on the way to healing. “You’re tough. I’ll give you that.”

You scoffed lightly, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your neck at his words. The way he was looking at you now—almost amused—felt like a game, but one you weren’t sure you knew the rules to. You took a small sip of water, needing to put some space between you and the emotions threatening to spill over.

Chan didn’t let up, though. “I’m surprised. Thought you’d be more upset about the whole ‘almost being shot’ thing.”

The teasing edge to his tone didn’t make it any easier to ignore the way your heart picked up its pace. You were keenly aware of how close he stood, of the heat radiating from his body despite the cool air. You could feel his presence pressing against you, and your mind refused to focus on anything but him.

“Well, I wasn’t shot,” you retorted, meeting his gaze at last. The challenge in your voice was as much for yourself as it was for him. “So I guess that’s something.”

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes darkening with a glint of mischief. “You know, I’m starting to think you enjoy the danger.”

Your throat went dry, and despite yourself, you laughed—short and sharp. “I don’t enjoy it. But I’m not exactly afraid of it either.”

“You should be,” he said softly, his tone turning serious for a brief moment. He leaned in, almost imperceptibly, and for a heartbeat, there was no room between you—just the quiet hum of tension that surged between you both. You could smell the faint trace of gunpowder on his skin, mixed with the ever-present scent of cologne. The proximity felt dangerous, yet the magnetic pull of him was impossible to ignore.

He was so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it made your body react in ways you couldn’t control. Every inch of you screamed to pull away, to maintain the distance that was keeping everything in check. But something about Chan—about the way he looked at you, about the small glint of vulnerability you saw beneath the hard exterior—made you question everything.

“What’s the point of being afraid?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Fear doesn’t keep anyone safe. It just holds you back.”

Chan’s gaze flickered to your lips, and the air between you thickened, charged with an unspoken understanding. His mouth was dry, and you could see the flicker of something deeper in his eyes—a hunger, a tension that was as magnetic as it was dangerous.

Then, as if aware of how close you’d both come to crossing a line, he leaned back, the space between you widening, though the tension didn’t dissipate.

“Fair enough,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than it had been before. He cleared his throat. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not risky.”

You swallowed hard, looking away, trying to regain some semblance of control. But his presence, his words, had shaken you. And deep down, you knew something had shifted. You couldn’t tell if it was the aftermath of the crisis, the adrenaline, or the way he seemed to see right through you—but the boundary had shifted. The walls you’d carefully built were beginning to crumble.

Chan took a step back, his eyes lingering on you just a little too long. “You’re not who you seem to be,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You’re more than just a pawn in all this.”

You felt a pang of something you didn’t quite recognize, but it wasn’t anger. It was… something else. A quiet understanding. It made your chest tighten, and for the first time, you realized how little control you had over what was happening between the two of you.

And as he turned and walked away, leaving you with the storm of your own thoughts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this—whatever it was—wasn’t over. It hadn’t even begun.

The news kept coming—each report more damning than the last. Your father’s empire was crumbling in real-time. Chan’s plans were progressing faster than anyone had expected. Supply lines were breaking, alliances were splintering, and the internal resistance within Victor’s ranks was growing stronger. It was all coming apart, just like Chan had predicted.

Victor, however, was far from giving up. His fight wasn’t over. He was tightening his grip, bringing in every last resource to hold onto the empire he’d built, despite the cracks beginning to show. You could almost hear his rage echo through the chaotic reports flooding in. He would not go down without a fight.

Chan leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the screen showing a live map of Victor’s remaining strongholds. “We’ve hit a critical point. The network’s destabilized, but he’s not finished yet. He’ll try to regroup. It’s only a matter of time before he pushes back.”

You stood by the window, looking out at the darkening sky. You could feel the weight of your father’s empire bearing down on you, like a dying beast desperate to survive. It was hard to shake the feeling that you were witnessing the end of everything you knew—everything you had once thought was untouchable.

“I thought… I thought this would be easier,” you muttered, your fingers brushing the edge of the window frame.

Chan’s voice was calm but firm as he spoke, his presence cutting through the tension. “It never is. But we’ve only just started, Y/N. The hardest part is coming.”

You turned toward him, meeting his gaze. There was no doubt in his eyes, no hesitation. He was certain—he always had been. But you felt the weight of your own doubts pressing in on you, as if you were standing at the edge of something vast and unknown.

“The hardest part,” you repeated, almost to yourself, “and you still want me to help you finish it?”

Chan stepped closer, his expression softening just a touch. “I’m not asking you to destroy everything you’ve known. I’m asking you to help me end what’s already falling apart. Help me tear down the structures that are keeping Victor in power.”

You took a deep breath. “And then what?”

His eyes darkened slightly, and for the briefest moment, something almost vulnerable flickered across his face. “Then we rebuild. But that’s for later. For now, we focus on making sure he doesn’t have the chance to come back. Once he’s gone, the pieces will be there for the taking.”

You felt a pang in your chest. “And I’m supposed to just… step into that? To take everything my father built and use it for your vision?”

“You’ve seen the cracks in Victor’s empire long before I came along,” Chan said, his voice quiet but unwavering. “You know it can’t survive in its current form. His obsession with control—his refusal to trust anyone—has already weakened it from the inside out. All I’m doing is speeding up the inevitable.”

You hesitated, the reality of his words settling over you like a heavy cloak. “And when it’s all over? What happens then?”

Chan’s gaze was steady, a mix of determination and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Then you take control. You become the one to rebuild. But only after we’ve brought him down. After we’ve made sure he can never hurt anyone again.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The idea—your idea—of taking control felt like a distant possibility, something you weren’t quite ready to admit. But even now, the pieces were falling into place. You weren’t just helping him destroy your father’s empire. You were preparing for something bigger, something that made your stomach twist in both fear and anticipation.

“You’re asking me to step into my father’s shoes,” you said, the weight of the truth sinking in. “You want me to take everything he built—and do what with it?”

“I’m not asking you to become him,” Chan said, his voice gentle now. “I’m asking you to become someone better. Someone who can rebuild it all into something that actually works.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of your choice. You wanted to resist him, wanted to reject the path he was offering. But deep down, you knew he was right. You’d already seen the cracks in your father’s empire—the cracks that were now yawning wide.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can watch it all burn and not feel like I’m betraying everything I’ve ever known.”

Chan’s expression softened just enough to show the faintest trace of understanding. “It won’t be easy. But it’s the only way forward. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

You let out a slow breath, the truth of it settling deep in your chest. The path ahead was unclear, but for the first time, you weren’t just fighting for survival. You were fighting for something more—something bigger. Maybe even something better.

“You’re asking me to betray my father,” you said, the words heavier than they had ever felt.

Chan nodded. “I’m asking you to save what’s left of him—and make sure no one else falls into the same traps he set.”

A deep silence filled the room, the weight of the decision hanging between you. You had made your choice. It wasn’t about loyalty anymore. It was about the future. And for the first time, you could see that future—not just as a shadow of destruction, but as something you could shape.

“I’ll help you,” you said, your voice firm, though a part of you still felt the tremor of doubt. “I’ll help you bring him down.”

Chan’s eyes flashed with something you hadn’t expected: approval. “We’re getting closer, Y/N. This is only the beginning.”

You looked up at him, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. The future you had once fought so hard to hold on to was slipping away, and with it, everything you had known. But now, you saw something else in its place—a chance to shape something new.

You couldn’t help but wonder if, in the end, you’d be able to rebuild it all with him. But for now, there was no turning back. You were already too far in.

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght

[wxllyclxrk]

Wonderwall (1) | Wally Clark x OC

Summary: Wally never expected for fall for a living student- until the day he heard Ellie say his name.

Warnings: Mentions of death/suicide, mentions of abuse, extreme canon divergence.

Word Count: 972

Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any character, setting or plot designed by the creators of School Spirits.

Author's Note: Each chapter is named after a song. For continuing parts, the chapter number will be in parenthesis!

MASTERLIST

Wally Clark has always been a lovable, golden retriever type of guy- warm, charming and effortlessly bright. He carries laughter in his pocket and wears his heart on his sleeve, always ready with a grin that could melt even the coldest of hearts. His charm isn't a facade, it's woven into the way he speaks, the way he listens, the way he makes the people around him feel like they mean something. There's a subtle depth beneath his easygoing nature, a tenderness in the way he loves- with unshakable loyalty, unwavering devotion, and a sincerity that lingers like the last notes of a favorite song. He's the kind of person who instinctively puts others before himself, even without realizing it. He doesn't ask for much in return- he's content just knowing the people he loves are okay. If it means sacrificing his time, his comfort, or even his own feelings, he won't hesitate. It's not a conscious effort, it's just who he is. He's the kind of boy who turns ordinary moments into something magical, who makes your world feel a little lighter just by being in it. 

Ellie is the kind of girl who feels like the soft melody of a piano drifting through an open window- gentle, graceful, and full of unspoken emotion. She carries a quiet strength, the kind that doesn't demand attention but holds steady when the world tries to break her. Sweet and forgiving, she has a heart that loves deeply, even when it shouldn't, even when it hurts her. There's a certain innocence to her, a romantic longing for love that feels like the stories she loses herself in, but life has not been kind to her hopes and dreams. She's an upbeat cheerleader with a bright smile and delicate presence, but beneath that carefully crafted image, she's a girl who knows loneliness all too well. She struggles to say no, to put herself first, to see her own value- but she's more resilient than she realizes. She's soft, but she is not weak. She is light, even when surrounded by darkness. And when she loves, she loves with everything she has. 

_ _ _

Wally wasn't paying much attention as he cut through the cafeteria, his mind half on Mr. Martin's support group and half on nothing at all. The hum of voices, the clatter of trays, the shuffle of footsteps- just another ordinary day in a place where nothing ever changed. And then, in the midst of all the noise, he heard his name. 

It was soft, almost uncertain, but it caught on his ear like a thread he couldn't ignore. He slowed, gaze flicking toward the source, and then he saw her. She was sitting at a table with a group of girls, hair falling over one shoulder as she leaned in slightly, speaking in soft tones.Her lightly tan skin seemed to glow softly in the sun, a golden warmth that only brought out her deep blue eyes, a shade so rich they resembled the sea before a storm. Strands of dark brown hair cascaded down her back, catching rays of light in soft, silky ribbons. Her head was tilted slightly, dark brows knitted together in gentle curiosity. There was something delicate about her, not in a way that made her seem breakable, but in the way certain songs feel too beautiful to talk over. She couldn't have known he was there, she shouldn't have known who he was, but for some reason, he couldn't look away. 

She said his name.

Why?

He didn't know her, he was sure of that. How could he have never noticed her before? Something about the way she said his name made his chest tighten-like it meant something. Like she already knew him in a way neither of them understood yet. And as he studied this petite brunette, the rest of the world faded.

- - -

"Are you excited for your first homecoming game here?" An unnamed blonde girl asked somebody.

"Yeah, it should be fun," Ellie replied, surrounded by a flock of royal blue Barbie dolls. "I wasn't really able to participate much at my last school."

"Couldn't be me, this week is always lit. The game, the dance, all the traditions," The blonde answered while applying a provocative shade of lipstick. 

"Oh my God, do you think that woman will be there again?" A thin girl sprouting auburn hair questioned in a judgmental tone. 

"What woman?" Ellie asked.

"The stadium's named after her kid. He died like a hundred years ago at a homecoming game," The blonde girl replied while staring at herself in her phone camera. 

"Wally Clark?"

———

For most of Ellie's life, she was the overlooked girl- never quite fitting in at her old schools, and never comfortable with extracurricular actives. Her closest anchor was her father, who shared her love for music; together, they'd spend hours playing the piano, a tender bond that was shattered when he committed suicide when Ellie was just eleven years old. 

Less than a year later, her mother Sharon remarried, and Ellie found herself forced to leave everything familiar behind as she moved schools for the first time. Sharon's restless nature- constantly chasing after the next infatuation- meant that Ellie never had the chance to build lasting friendships or a stable sense of home. Now, at Split River High for just a few weeks, she had unexpectedly captured the attention of her peers, especially the cheerleaders, finding herself in a vulnerable spotlight unlike her usual place in society. 

Beneath her newfound popularity lies a shadow that continues to affect her daily life. Her latest stepfather, Malcolm- a wealthy entrepreneur in his 50's, casts a long, uncomfortable presence over her. His emotionally abusive behavior and inappropriate remarks only deepen the isolation Ellie feels, igniting her instinctual need to find safe haven. 

[yandere-fics]

♡ Rayna Harth ♡

(everyone thank girlfailure for the art!)

(bit of a preamble to this profile because there are some things that will be remaining consistent with her and her darling no matter the scenario, her sister is a mage, with the way magic works in this world I decided when weaker mages awaken their magic they need to bind themselves to a knight with a strong constitution so the drain on their body is lessened, usually when this happen the two become lovers because people bound together find they can't go a certain distance from the other. The darling is an illegitimate daughter of the dukes family so no one stepped into bond until hours late leaving her sister terribly hurt in the first timeline. She was away training at the time but this time she made sure she was around when it happened and was the one to bond, lessening the damage to darling but when she grabbed on too tightly the magic burned her own face and body a little bit. The first timeline ended with her darling's death and she took her own life finding herself back weeks before the initial incident that ruined their lives. I will have her sister sometimes being aware of the original timeline but sometimes not remembering, whichever suits it better.)

♡ "My songbird is singing to people she shouldn't be, oh what should we do with them? Perhaps flay them? Not you of course baby, never you." ♡

She's a scheming, delusional, and slightly erratic yandere. In the first timeline she couldn't save you and so now she's doing everything she can in order to protect you after going back in time which of course means killing everyone who was a threat to you in the first timeline. Her memories of it are a bit shaky at times and she'll sometimes even remember moments that happened between you that didn't happen in either timeline or think a dream was real. She's very clever and will for the most part keep what she's plotting to herself but if she remembers something that made her particularly angry in the past or comes across someone she despises unprepared she is prone to fits of rage. Depending on how long it's been since she's seen her sister her mood will grow more sour until eventually she's screaming at everyone around her that they can't do anything right, her mood resetting the moment you're near her again. Her mood is never directed at you but if she catches you talkin to someone she views as having harmed you in the past timeline even if they're nice now, you might get to witness her outbursts.

♡ "I'm your Ray, how could you have forgotten my name? Did the burst affect my pretty girl more than I thought?" ♡

Her full name is Duke Rayna Harth and she is the duke of the country next to the main kingdom, they generally have a more neutral relationship sometimes verging on hostile. She lacks any loyalty to her main kingdom though and would sell them out in a heartbeat to keep her sister safer. In the original timeline she engaged herself to the princess of her own kingdom hearing a rumor the royal family knew how to break the bond between a mage and their knight and transfer the bond to someone else leading to her sister hating her more in the original because the princess tormented her for being illegitimate. Now in this timeline she is openly hostile to the princess because she's not needed anymore.

♡ "I'm 4- I mean 37. It took me too long to become duke, I'm sorry my love." ♡

She was 45 when the original timeline ended, she worked hard for years to try to break the bond you had with your original knight but never could find a solution and although she had taken over as duke a couple years after the initial incident the relationship between you only gained more misunderstandings until eventually your knight left, you got a high fever from not having your mana stabilized and you died. This time she challenged your mother immediately and gained the title, she refrained from killing her though and keeps her in the annex of the manor which you're not allowed to visit so she can know how your life in the annex was before Ray will eventually execute her.

♡ "My darling, I'm bonded to you, how could I want for anyone else?" ♡

Not just a lesbian, an extreme siscon.

♡ "I'm the duke, my pretty girl, unless you want to know what the duke does? Really it's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about, you just need to be resting. There are things I need to do to keep you safe you'd be better off not knowing." ♡

She considers it her primary job to track down everyone from the original timeline who hurt you or otherwise came between your relationship, spies, maids who weren't even hired for a few years, knights who knew they were going to get their shit wrecked when she took over and ran. She also passes intel to the kingdom in hopes of making your dukedom part of the kingdom so she can fight the other royal family since the princess hurt you in the past life.

♡ "I love you, my dear sister. I already know everything you like." ♡

In the first timeline and this current timeline you have always been her favorite thing and she's had no interests outside of you from the moment she first got to hold her dearest baby sister. She started sword training so she could become duke one day and studied hard so you wouldn't have to think very hard. She was aware your situation in the house wasn't the best but she hadn't been aware you would become a mage, she thought she had time to save you from your neglectful position when it suddenly worsened beyond repair. She also knew if she showed too much outward affection for you originally it could end with you being harmed for manipulating the rightful heir. Still no matter what you have been the only thing she loves.

♡ "I hate everyone who isn't you, that's why my songbird needs to stop looking at these fuckers, we don't need them." ♡

She's completely honest when she says that, even her most loyal advisors who were helping her in the past timeline will fall victim to her rage and anyone can be replaced except for you, there's people she hates more though like the princess and your previous fiance. In the original timeline she was better at hiding her hate, she needed these people around to try to find a way to switch who you were tied to but being tied to you in this timeline and having the knowledge she does from the original, she no longer feels a need to hide it.

♡ "Skills? Protecting my beloved sister from anything that could hurt you. Things besides that? Nothing matters if it's not for you, my silly silly girl." ♡

Excels at swordsmanship and plotting. She trained her spying skills in the first timeline trying to figure out how to break the bond between you and your knight since the royals weren't giving the information freely. Beyond that she makes a very good meat shield considering she's about 6'9 and very solid, when it's important to her she's very good at faking her feelings but this timeline she really doesn't feel like she has any reason to since you're safe and okay now and that was all she actually wanted. Will pretend to be less cruel if it will earn her your love though.

♡ "My flower, you deserve to rest, just let the servants do the only thing they're good for and take care of you. I'll come to bed with you shortly." ♡

[rafesbabygirlx]

In Loving Memory of JJ

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Summary: Months after losing JJ, you're finally ready to step into the house you grew up in with him and go through some items to hold as keepsakes for Vivienne. A drabble from my series A Lot of Time has Passed.

A/N: what's the point of my series if I don't make a post honoring JJ. I'm gonna miss him so much next season. :(

Warnings: nothing but sadness

The afternoon sun streamed through the worn curtains of JJ bedroom, casting soft, golden rays across the room. Dust particles floated lazily in the beams, their slow dance almost reverent in the quiet space. The room felt frozen in time—the bed unmade, fishing rods propped up in the corner, and his favorite cap hanging on the bedpost, the fabric frayed at the brim from countless adventures under the relentless Carolina sun. You haven’t been back in your house since you’ve gotten back from hunting Groff. It’s been months and you’ve finally brought yourself to make it past the driveway. You’d make Rafe turn back home every time before. 

You sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, old floorboards creaking beneath your weight, with Vivienne perched on your lap. She toyed with the hem of her dress, eyes wide and curious as she took in the room, so full of memories and stories she was too young to remember. You glanced down at her, into her bright blue eyes, of course she got them from Rafe, but the softness in them always reminded you so much of JJ’s and that it made your heart ache. You knew you needed to tell her who he was—the uncle she would never grow up and make memories with but should always remember him for exactly who he was. Even if she didn’t quite understand now. You’d have no problem telling her over and over again as she grew. 

“This,” you said, voice wavering as you picked up a cracked Polaroid photo from the pile of belongings scattered on the floor, “is my favorite photo of your Uncle J. The bravest, wildest, most loyal person I’ve ever known.” The picture showed JJ at the Boneyard, grinning from ear to ear with his arms thrown around John B and Pope. They looked carefree, a trio bound by loyalty and a brotherhood forged by the rough edges of life on the Cut.

“He liked treasure,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her, the memory carrying you back to the nights JJ would burst through the door with sand still clinging to his skin, eyes bright with excitement as he spun wild tales of their latest adventure. “He and his friends—they were always searching for something. Gold, yes, but it was more than that. They wanted freedom, something better than what the island wanted to give them.”

Your daughter’s tiny fingers reached for the Polaroid, and you let her hold it, watching as she inspected the faded image with a solemnity that seemed far beyond her years.

“He was strong,” you said, eyes drifting to the board in the corner with notes pinned haphazardly—maps scrawled with routes, plans for the next great scheme. “He fought hard for the people he loved. He would’ve protected you, sweetheart. He would’ve made you laugh until your sides hurt and taken you out on the boat, showing you the stars and telling you stories about them.”

Your gaze shifted to the corner of the room where an old motorcycle helmet sat, its surface scratched and worn. “And he loved motorbikes,” you added, a soft smile breaking through the grief. “He’d ride that old bike down to the beach with the wind in his hair, reckless and free. It was his escape, his way of feeling alive when the weight of everything got too heavy.” You could almost hear the roar of the engine, the laughter that followed as he raced down backroads with John B chasing behind, whooping with joy.

“He said there was nothing like it,” you continued, eyes misty as you remembered his words. ‘When you’re on the bike, it’s just you and the road, like the world falls away.’”

A knot formed in your throat as you lifted a small shark tooth necklace from the pile, one JJ had worn more days than not. You placed it gently around your daughter’s neck, the string almost comically large on her tiny frame. She looked up at you, wide-eyed and confused, and you smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“He used to say,” you continued, voice breaking, ‘It’s us against the world, always.’” You brushed her curls away from her face and kissed her forehead. “And even though he’s not here, I hope you carry that with you. Be brave, be kind, and always look out for your friends—just like he did.”

The room fell into a peaceful silence, the echoes of JJ’s laughter seeming to hang in the air. Your daughter leaned back against you, clutching the Polaroid tightly. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your brother’s life—the sand, the sea, and the stories—you knew that JJ’s spirit would always be with you both, carried in the stories you told and the memories you kept alive.

You didn’t notice Rafe standing in the doorway, watching you as you wiped away your tears. When you stood up, holding Vivienne in your arms and packing a box of things you wanted to keep, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. His embrace was strong and steady, and as you buried your face in his chest, the weight of your grief spilled over. He held you tightly, silently, as you cried into his chest for what felt like forever, until the room felt a little less empty.

When the moment passed and your tears had run dry, he followed you outside, where the Pogues were waiting. They stood together, their expressions heavy with shared sorrow. You couldn’t find the words, but they understood, their eyes speaking the silent language of loss.

Rafe took a breath and stepped forward. “I know you don’t like me,” he began, his voice steady but raw. “I know you don’t like having me around. But JJ’s gone, and I need you to know that Y/N  and Vivienne mean everything to me. I want you here, as much as you’ll allow it. To keep his memory alive for her. To be the aunts and uncles she needs—not by blood, but by choice.”

The group listened, their guarded expressions softening. “Thank you,” Rafe said, glancing at each of them. “Thank you for being the people you are, for being there for her. She’s lucky to grow up with you all around.”

A quiet nod from John B, a watery smile from Kie, and the unspoken promise of family settled between you all. You mouth them a grateful, “thank you” for not only being there for you but for listening to Rafe. In that moment, the weight of grief shifted, just a little, shared by those who loved JJ the most.

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Why Ray's reaction speaks volumes about his feelings for Sand, rather than his feelings for Mew

It's natural to think Ray reacted so strongly in the fight with Boston because of his residual feelings and loyalty to Mew. But let's be clear, this revelation doesn't adversely affect Mew in any immediate way if you read this as Ray being upset on Mew's behalf.

Boston's bombshell is instead targeted to hurt Ray specifically. An attempt to make Ray look like a villain and Sand to feel like a victim of Ray's 'deception'. Sand being the unwarranted collateral of this fight.

Why is Ray angry?

So let's break down all the reasons Ray is angry in the first place.

This wasn't Boston's story to tell. He saw and recorded the kiss without their knowledge or consent. He frames it like a 'dirty secret' that Ray intentionally hid from Sand. But it's Ray's right to choose when and if he felt it necessary to share this with Sand, depending on the progression of their relationship.

What Boston is claiming is only partly true. Yes they did kiss. But no, Ray did not 'take Mew's virginity'. Nothing further happened and Boston is embellishing, which implies more gravitas to a 'history' which doesn't exist.

Sand is being fed this information without full context. He doesn't have the benefit of understanding Ray's past (namely his breakdown), the nature of his friendship with Mew. Without it, Ray is going to look categorically bad, especially through the lens of his affectionate behaviour with Sand that day.

The revelation could ruin what potential future there may have been between Ray and Sand, if Sand is driven away. Ray's newfound happiness dashed in an instant.

The initial part of his Ray's reaction is defensive - the shock, the betrayal regarding such an invasion of privacy. Ray's first punch is thrown after "keep track?" The audacity and complete lack of justification felt as to why Boston would even do such a thing. Ray's second attempt to enact violence is when Boston says, "are you going to be two-timing?" I saw the following through his response: 'It's one thing to hurt me. I'm your friend. I know what you're like. But why on earth are you dragging Sand into this? How dare you.'

Attacking Ray's Weak Spot

We can't change our pasts. Whether it was one kiss or years of unrequited feelings - ultimately, nothing became of it. Ray can't erase the fact he did once love Mew (and probably always will in some capacity because of what Mew did for him). But if Ray were to eventually fall in love with Sand, then his romantic feelings for Mew would become past tense. So whatever he felt then would have no bearing on his here and now. Ray shouldn't be made to feel ashamed.

The progress Ray made with Sand this episode has essentially been unravelled through this one act. It's been hugely difficult for Ray to even consider loving anyone other than Mew. He only just started to display inklings of welcoming the idea. We should all be afforded the opportunity to move on. For Boston to use Mew (someone who means so much to Ray symbolically) as ammunition to hurt Sand (someone new he's grown to care about), is pitting his past and future against each other. And it's not fair to do so. Your past doesn't negate what you may do in future. Similarly the future doesn't discredit the past. Both are important for different reasons.

Ray has every right to value both Mew and Sand, because his feelings for each of them will be entirely different in their own right. But what Boston has tried to spin here is a comparison game. 'Ray loves Mew. He's always loved Mew.' The further insinuation being: 'Ray will never find you as important Sand. You're lesser than. You'll never compare in Ray's eyes'. It's simply not Boston's place to say that. How would he know? It's possible that one day Sand could match Ray's love for Mew, surpass it even. But Ray isn't to know that yet.

There's also a palpable air of derision in how Boston delivers this. He makes Ray's feelings out to be a slightly pathetic, sad little obsession, by wording it as "Ray's whole ass is owned by Mew". Reducing Ray's incredibly complex feelings for someone who saved his life to a more superficial pining. The nuances of which Sand won't be aware of.

Hurting Ray by hurting Sand

Not only is Boston trying to tarnish Ray's character by accusing him of misleading and lying to Sand - but in doing so he's humiliating Sand for not being aware of this. If he can tell that Sand has feelings for Ray, he knew this information would hurt an innocent third party. All 'disguised' under a feat of righteousness.

I'm sure Ray is more than aware of how Sand treats him. Sand has been nothing but kind and accommodating where he's concerned. Willing to bend to his will and soften to his demands. Sand absolutely does not deserve to be dragged into any unnecessary drama, (drama which involves a notable part of Ray's history). So Ray is forced to feel somewhat responsible, based purely on the fact that this very 'drama' concerns him.

It's because Ray cares about Sand's feelings, cares about Sand's opinion of him, cares about what Sand feels towards him, and is also concerned by Sand being caught in this crossfire - that Ray is so clearly flustered. No matter what he's done, Sand shouldn't have to suffer along by association. That's not fair on Sand. It's his past in question. It's his best friend doing the damage. And it's because of him that Sand is now getting hurt too.

He can't outright deny it, because part of what Boston is saying is true. (Trying to vehemently defend yourself can sometimes come across even more as an admission of guilt). He can't apologise to Sand, because he hasn't figured out who Sand is to him yet. (If Ray doesn't deem him as a boyfriend at present, then he can't be sorry for liking someone else). The kiss with Mew also relates closely to an absolute rock bottom period of his life, which he probably wasn't ready to share with Sand just yet.

Ray has been made out to be a liar and a cheat and he's just praying that Sand can give him the benefit of the doubt. There's absolutely no way he can possibly explain all the intricacies to Sand in such an instant, but he's allowing Sand to ask him should he wish to. It's the least he can do. But Sand is going through his own internal battle now, and both need time to process what this has led them to realise about how they feel about each other.

[egg-emperor]

In a cyberpunk world covered in smog, Eggman factories/theme parks and filled with scared civilians, empty shells, robotomized drones, robot servants, mind controlled slaves you'd probably be the only living being genuinely smiling and happy under Eggman's superior glorious rule. In a crowd full of frightened peasants and empty shells that given up any hope of freedom, singing the daily egg national anthem , the sheer genuine joy and enthusiasm on your face stands out like a beaming ray of light.

Your enthusiasm brings the egg immense joy, he would be pleased with your service and genuine loyalty.❤️

Yesss I love that. Most people were forced into it after he succeeded in taking over the world, whether by harm and threat or full robotomy and anyone who ever felt positively only did due to brainwashing or delusion of the kind of person he was and his plans for the world, until they actually had to live it

Now the world is dark and polluted with smog covering the skies and deadly theme parks, robots, and factories all around. There's no way to escape his powerful reign, it's all encompassing, taking up more and more of the land day by day and leaving everyone with no refuge from their new harsh reality

And all the people, his new slaves, stand lined up together now, forced to bow and sing praises to their new cruel, terrifying, diabolical emperor who towers high above them all, looking down on them so smugly with such pride, loving the high of the power and control as he makes them sing the daily anthem

Everyone has had their freedom ripped away, some to the point they can't think for themselves anymore and have become mindless drones from robotomy, trapped in robotic shells, or brains numbed and taken over by brainwashing or mind control and live as lifeless drones, chanting the anthem in monotone

And those who still have their mind intact to think are horrified and miserable, and ashamed if they were once deluded and helped allow it to happen. The anthem only forces them to come to terms with it as they're forced to sing words that affirm it, at gunpoint of the robots that surround them

While everyone else looks either miserable, scared, or blank and lifeless, with either crushed souls or devoid of one entirely, one face stands out in striking contrast to dull crowd, full of light and life and immense joy, with a bright passionate soul and adoration in his eyes and that's meee hehe 🥰

I sing passionately from the heart with great enthusiam, so delighted to celebrate our brilliant and handsome emperor. I'm the only one who is truly genuinely happy to live under his rule in a world that's been owned and changed by him in every way, with no delusions about it involved

I knew exactly what I was signing up for- not that I really had any choice or say anyway because the world was going to be his and he was going to do whatever he wants, no matter what we thought. But I think it's all so beautiful because it's what he wants and makes him happy so I want it for him too

He can immediately spot my smile standing out from the rest and it makes his smile grow into a wider grin. He's getting all the attention and praise he's always desired and never cared how much the people wanted it and was happy forcing them- but it does feel good that someone truly wants what he wants

Who is truly loving and loyal, passionately lives by the rules of the empire, and means every word of the anthem. Who looks at him with nothing but immense love and joy like he truly deserves. It's a big extra ego boost when he's already on top of the world figuratively and literally with it at his feet

I'd be even happier to see how it makes him happy to know he's deeply loved and appreciated and put an even bigger smile on his gorgeous face! 💜 And perhaps eventually he'd say "With enthusiam like yours, you should come up to the podium and announce my arrival before I make my epic entrance!"

I'd be honored to announce and say "All hail our beautiful, powerful, mighty emperor of the glorious Eggman Empire, Lord Eggman!", setting the example of how a true most loyal and faithful member of the empire should act, stepping down and bowing to him when he enters the spotlight with a prideful stride

The idea of him and I literally being the only truly ones happy left, himself for getting everything he's ever wanted and me because all I wanted was for him to get what he wanted is wonderful. And we get to be happy and enjoy and celebrate this new beautiful perfectly twisted world together. His world 😍

[tennessoui]

For whenever you feel in the playmaker writing mood, I would love to read the scene where Anakin comes home to baby Ray and is just like what. what.

here you go!!! 2.5k of playmaker au, specifically anakin coming home to find that obi-wan has stolen a baby from a grocery store

(warnings: playmaker anakin? specifically playmaker anakin about babies?)

(2.5k)

When Anakin opens the door to his house to the ear-splitting sound of a baby crying, he almost closes it once more to check that he has the correct place. But of course he does. No one else’s entryway could possibly be this messy. 

Luke and Leia’s shoes are thrown in a hectic pile by the doormat, Luke’s football balanced precariously on the toes of his cleats. Leia’s school bag has been discarded on the short bench Obi-Wan had wheedled one of Anakin’s men into installing, built into the wall. 

It’s definitely Anakin’s house; over the wailing of the strange baby, he can hear his own baby’s low murmurs. Frozen as he is with the door half open and half closed, he can even hear the distinct whine of Luke’s voice.

His eyebrows furrow; he steps forward, firmly into the house, and shuts the door behind him. His jacket has barely cleared his shoulders before the pattering of little feet greet him.

“Make him give it back!” Leia’s voice shrieks out. It’s a particularly grating sound, one that Anakin hasn’t heard for several years and absolutely has not missed.

He closes his eyes and intentionally hangs his gun holster on the hook next to his jacket. “What did Luke take, baby?” “Nothing!” Luke cries. He sounds just as distraught as his sister. Anakin exhales slowly through his nose before turning around and crouching down. One twin immediately comes within the circle of his arms. The other hangs back, looking distrustful.

Which is probably why Leia will be the one to inherit his criminal empire when it’s time. 

“What did you take, Luke?” he asks his son, hefting him up into the air as he stands. “And whose fucking baby is that screaming?”

There’s muted movement from the other end of the long entrance hallway, and then Obi-Wan Kenobi rounds the corner, arms full of a baby swaddled in a yellow blanket. Its face is red from crying, but it’s seemingly more content now. A pacifier has been stuck in its mouth at least.

“Yours,” Obi-Wan says primly, adjusting his hold on the baby.

Anakin squints at him and then down at the child. “Well that’s a fucking lie, sweetheart,” he says, taking a cautious step forward. Leia skitters to duck behind his leg.

Smart girl. If Obi-Wan thinks—what, that Anakin slept with a woman a year ago while on a business trip—who knows what the boy is capable of? After all, Obi-Wan values loyalty above all else. 

“Cause I don’t remember anyone else in my bed but you,” he adds, eyes examining the play of shadows and emotions across Obi-Wan’s face. The other man’s hair is up in a loose bun. He’s wearing the remnants of a respectable suit. He doesn’t look like a boy who is planning to cut his losses and run out of Coruscant tonight.

Not that he’d get far, of course, but he certainly doesn’t look like a man who is planning to try. 

“If people are only yours by blood, does that mean I’m free to go?” Obi-Wan replies archly, turning his back to Anakin and marching into their living room. 

Anakin watches him go, speechless. 

He crouches down on the ground again and carefully places his son back onto the floor. “Luke, baby, Leia,” he says, unable to take his eyes off of the empty doorway. “Go upstairs.”

“Make him give it back, Daddy,” Leia says, tugging on the edge of his shirt. “I don’t like it.”

“Mhm,” Anakin replies. From what he’s seen so far, he isn’t much of a fan either. “Go.”

They go, and Anakin allows himself a few moments to stare after them consideringly. One day, eventually, he will need them to be something more than well-trained puppies. He will need them to be something even more than attack dogs.

But that is a conundrum for a later day. Now, he stands on his feet and follows after his boy, who he can still hear gently murmuring in the living room. 

He leans against the doorway. Obi-Wan does not look as if he is going to throw anything at him or harm him bodily in any sort of way, but one can never be too sure with him. It’s part of the reason Anakin finds him so fascinating still after all these years.

But then, his little mouse has never so far stooped to physical violence. That’s more of Anakin’s beast.

“It’s not mine,” he says. It’s best to state these things clearly. “I want it out of the house. It’s upsetting the children.”

Obi-Wan does not look up from the baby in his arms. Its eyes are closed now, expression lax and trusting. The pacifier is still in its mouth. “She’s mine,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing over the skin of its cheek.

Anakin stills, half a step forward.

It’s two offenses in one blow. Obi-Wan’s attention is solidly on something not Anakin, when Anakin is speaking so directly to him. And if Obi-Wan says the baby is his, then he’s implying that he slept with some woman a year ago during one of Anakin’s business trips.

The image the sentence puts into his head has Vader roaring to the surface of his mind between one blink and the next. “If you think I would not hurt an infant for the crime of representing a past dalliance of yours, you are gravely mistaken,” he warns, hand clenching into a fist at his side. “So speak carefully, little mouse.”

“Monster,” Obi-Wan says, keeping his tone light. Keeping his eyes away from Vader’s face. He carefully raises the baby up and tilts his head down until he can rub his nose ever so gently against the baby’s own tiny nose.

“Yes,” Vader says stiffly. “So get rid of it or I will.”

Obi-Wan finally looks up at him. His eyes are blue steel.

Fuck, Vader hasn’t seen him look this stubborn about anything since he was tried in criminal court for the murder of Savage Oppress.

“No,” Obi-Wan says succintly. “She’s ours.”

This more than anything gives Anakin pause. “What.”

Obi-Wan raises to his feet and deposits the baby into a crib a few feet away. How had Anakin missed the fucking crib? When did Obi-Wan have the time to find a fucking crib?

“She’s our baby,” Obi-Wan says, running his hand along the edge of the crib. His head comes up and he gives Anakin a hard stare as if daring him to disagree. “She’s ours or she’s mine.”

There it is.

“You’re handing out ultimatums like that now, sweetheart?” Vader asks, stepping into the room and prowling towards his husband. “Think that’s smart, little mouse? Think you can threaten me like that? Think you can do that with no punishment?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan murmurs. His voice is rough. He moves to the outside of the crib, hands grasping the edges and body turned to face Vader as he approaches. “Because I’m serious, Anakin. I’m not going to give her away. I want her. You’re going to let me have her.”

“And its parents?” Anakin asks, boxing Obi-Wan in against the crib. “Its actual parents?”

“She’s adopted.”

“Did you steal it from an orphanage, Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s eyebrows fly up at the very idea. He still has to coax his little mouse into doing things of even a slight criminal nature half the time. His little mouse hates sitting on Anakin’s lap during his meetings, hates all the trappings and police tape that comes with being a mob wife.

It’s his past. It’s his sheriff father. It’s the talons of Qui-Gon Jinn’s ghost still sunk deep into his soul. It’s all of that shit, and despite it all, Anakin loves him. As much as a man like him, a man like Vader can love.

Obi-Wan’s flash away for a second. It’s an admittance of guilt. His cheeks begin to flush red.

“No,” he says and hesitates, pink mouth torn open. Anakin’s face breaks into the beginnings of a smile. His hands fall to rest on his waist. What’s going to come out of Obi-Wan’s mouth next will probably be the best confession he’s heard all day. “I stole her from her stroller.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. 

“Excuse me?”

Obi-Wan’s chin juts up as he frowns at Anakin. “I stole her from her stroller. Her parents left her unattended. And–I wanted her.”

He isn’t sure if his eyebrows will ever lower. “You wanted her.”

“I wanted a baby,” Obi-Wan says very clearly. “The twins are old and they hate me now. I wanted a baby again.”

“The twins are not old,” Anakin replies automatically. “They’re ten. They’re children.”

His little mouse’s lips stay curled in a stubborn moue of defiance. 

“They don’t hate you,” he adds. “They adore you, baby. You know that. What they hate is that thing,” his hand gestures over Obi-Wan to encompass the crib and the baby. “Leia begged me to make you give it back.”

“Oh and how would that go?” Obi-Wan sniffs, looking haughtily down his nose at Anakin, as if he weren’t the one who just stole a fucking baby in broad daylight. “Oh, so sorry, I didn’t mean to take your baby, I just tripped and fell and it landed in my grocery cart by accident.”

“You stole a baby from a grocery store?” 

But Obi-Wan’s eyes are narrowed in consideration and a second later, he’s changing tactics. His hands slip from their defensive position on the crib’s edge, run up the length of Anakin’s arms to rest on the sides of his neck. His eyes go half-lidded. His mouth gets all glistening and wet. “Daddy,” he says.

“No,” Anakin says. “You can’t fuck your way into a baby, Obi-Wan—”

“I thought that’s how most couples got a baby,” Obi-Wan points out.

“You can’t banter your way into a baby either, fuck, Obi-Wan—”

“I can,” his boy says confidentally, pushing up against Anakin’s hips. “Because I really want a baby. And I already found a baby. Her name is Rey.”

“No, don’t name it, you’ll get attached to it—”

“I love you,” Obi-Wan murmurs. He pushes forward and stands up on his toes so that he can rub his nose along the line of Anakin’s jaw. “I want to raise a child with you. Just you and me, she’ll never know another parent. Don’t you want to raise a baby with someone you love? Someone you trust? You’ll never have to kill me. You know I love you—every part of you.”

Unlike your first wife, goes unsaid. Unlike the mother of your children.

It doesn’t go unheard.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin groans, but he tightens his grip on the boy’s waist. “You stole a baby.”

“I murdered a good man for you,” he murmurs, dragging his lips over his. “I murdered a bad man for the twins. I stole a baby for us. Look what you’ve made me. Look what you’ve turned me into, darling.”

Anakin bites back another groan. His little mouse plays dirty now that Anakin’s taught him how. Or maybe that’s always been a part of him. Maybe that ruthless streak, that cunning brutality has always been there; maybe that’s what drew him to the undercover detective in the first place.

“Did you kill the parents at least?” Anakin asks, eyes falling closed. He cannot believe the words coming out of his mouth.

He cannot believe how easily he gave into those fucking blue eyes. 

“That’s your job,” Obi-Wan tells him, pressing a kiss to his lips. For a reward.

“Did you mock up the paperwork to make it look like a legal adoption?”

“Also your job,” Obi-Wan says again, brushing another kiss to Anakin’s face. Anakin’s hand grips the back of Obi-Wan’s hair, holding him close and in place.

“Obi-Wan…”

“I told the twins though,” Obi-Wan says quickly. He hooks his leg around the back of Anakin’s calf, winding his arms solidly around his neck.

“Yeah?” Anakin murmurs, letting his other hand trail down over the small of his back. “How’d they take that, baby?” Obi-Wan is silent. 

“Yeah,” Anakin says. “That’s what I thought.” Sharing their Obi-Wan’s attention? It’s bad enough they have to split it with each other and Anakin. Now there’s an entirely new thing demanding Obi-Wan’s time. His attention. His arms.

Anakin scowls automatically, just thinking about it.

“They’ll get used to her,” Obi-Wan says. His hands tighten on the back of Anakin’s neck. “They’re growing up. They don’t need me as much anymore.” His eyes are wet and big when he looks up at Anakin. He’s almost too tall to pull the move off anymore. “I just…I want to be needed, Ani. You’ve gotten me spoiled on the feeling. And I—I can’t go back to the other way.”

“Baby, of course we need you,” Anakin says, using his grip on Obi-Wan’s lower back to push him pointedly up against his covered cock.

Obi-Wan sighs into the kiss Anakin pushes on his mouth, and when he pulls back, he looks so fucking despondent that Anakin’s patience for anything but wiping that look from his little mouse’s face evaporates.

“Stop it,” he commands, thumbing at the skin beneath Obi-Wan’s eye rather roughly. “Stop it, we’re keeping it. Fine. We’re keeping it.”

“And you’ll talk to the twins?” Obi-Wan’s voice wavers. There’s at least a thirty percent chance it’s genuine emotion. “Tell them that she’s family? And that means they must protect her? Care for her even if they don’t love her?” Anakin’s eyebrows shoot up. Even though he’s been dead three years, Qui-Gon Jinn’s ghost seems to haunt half of Obi-Wan’s deeply rooted ideas and values. 

“I’ll get Rex and Ahsoka to start on the papers,” Anakin mutters, pulling away reluctantly from his husband’s all too soft and willing body—now that he’s gotten his way.

The baby—Rey, Anakin supposes—begins to whine once more.

Immediately, instinctively almost, Obi-Wan flips himself around so that he’s facing the crib, peering into and reaching down.

Out of curiosity, Anakin slots himself up against his back, unable to resist the slightest roll of his hips.

The baby blinks up at him. Her face is all squishy and red. Her eyes are clear, blue still, though Leia’s eyes were blue when she was born. Rey’s fingers dance in the air as she reaches for Obi-Wan plaintatively. 

The twins are not going to be happy.

But Obi-Wan is. He’s incandescent as he allows her to wrap her tiny fingers around his index finger.

“Does she at least have red hair?” Anakin murmurs, fairly plaintative himself. “It’ll be easier to trick myself into loving her if she looks like you.”

“She’s mine,” Obi-Wan replies, looking back at him slightly, hand still tangled with the infant’s. “You’ll love her.”

It still sounds like an ultimatum.

Anakin sighs; Anakin capitulates.