#I posted a different version without the line before

[talldecafcappuccino]

Pen pals 🪶💌🧳

[suliigwp]

Hello! Could you do the “I’m defending you because you’re my woman” with Charles and Lewis as well? I just read the max, lando and Carlos versions of it and I’m in love hehe

MY WOMAN

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Other versions: Carlos Sainz, Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton

SULI: Hi anon, thank you for your request! Alright, lasto three and we're moving on because I'm loosing ideas to make them different lmao. This will be the Charles version, lewis will be posted separately <3

Warnings: Men.

It started with a shift. A quiet one. One that felt too familiar.

She’d been invited to present at a cross-team coordination meeting. It wasn’t flashy. Not a press conference, not some public announcement. But it mattered to her.

She’d spent nights perfecting the pitch, scribbling ideas and corrections in the margins of her notebook. Charles had watched her pace the hotel room in socks, chewing her pen, murmuring strategy points under her breath. She wanted this one to be sharp—efficient, clean, undeniable.

So when she walked into the meeting that morning—file in hand, hair neat, eyes focused—she wasn’t expecting to feel so… dismissed.

They smiled, of course. That fake, managerial kind of smile that never quite reached the eyes. They nodded at her introduction. Waited for her to begin.

And then, slowly, they dismantled her confidence—not directly, not even cruelly. Just enough interruptions. Just enough condescending jokes masked as banter. One man suggested she “simplify the jargon for everyone’s sake.” Another tilted his head and said, “Maybe passion’s clouding your objectivity.”

And every time she tried to steer the discussion back to the actual points—the facts, the structure—they steered it away. Her research was “ambitious.” Her projections “optimistic.” Her tone “a bit intense.”

Charles hadn’t been supposed to attend. But he’d shown up halfway through and slipped in quietly, standing near the back wall. She hadn’t even noticed at first. But he saw everything. Every narrowed glance. Every barely concealed smirk. Every time she swallowed a rebuttal to keep the conversation civil.

He didn’t say a word then. Didn’t make a scene.

But when they walked out of that room, and she gave him a thin, practiced smile and said, “Well, that could’ve gone worse,” he just took her hand and brought her back to the car without a word.

...

She didn’t think about it again until hours later, when her email pinged.

> Meeting Follow-Up Notes – Updated

Proposal has been submitted for reevaluation. Clarification provided by Mr. Charles Leclerc regarding external presentation alignment and conduct expectations moving forward.

She blinked. Read it again.

She read it three times.

She turned around from the hotel desk chair, slow and steady. Charles was lying on the bed, scrolling through something, his reading glasses slipping down slightly.

“Charles?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

She tried to sound casual. “Did you… talk to someone after the meeting?”

He looked up. Paused.

“Yes.”

She blinked. “What do you mean ‘yes’?”

“I had a conversation.”

“With who?”

He set his phone down, sat up slowly. “With the ones who spoke over you.”

Her heartbeat kicked up. “Why?”

“Because they were out of line.”

“Charles…”

“I wasn’t going to let it go.”

She stood up. “You weren’t even supposed to be there.”

“I’m glad I was.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can fight my own battles.”

He looked at her. Calm. Centered. But something sharper brewing beneath the surface—like water just before the boil.

“I know you can.”

“Then why step in?”

Charles stood. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t move suddenly. But he was in front of her now, close enough for her to smell the cedar in his cologne.

“Because it wasn’t just a battle. It was disrespect. And you don’t deserve that.”

She looked up at him, frustration tightening her chest. “You don’t get to walk into rooms and fix things behind my back.”

“I wasn’t fixing it,” he said. His voice was soft but firm, each word deliberate. “I was reminding them who they were talking to.”

She exhaled hard. “I don’t need you to defend me because I’m a woman.”

There was a beat of silence.

Charles tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with something darker. Not anger. Just clarity.

“I didn’t defend you because you’re a woman.”

He stepped closer.

“I defended you because you’re my woman.”

The room went quiet. She blinked.

“And if you think I’m going to watch people minimize you,” he said, voice lowering, “treat you like you’re less, speak to you like you’re temporary—then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

Her jaw clenched.

“You didn’t even tell me.”

“Because I knew you’d be mad.”

“You were right.”

He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand.

“I’d do it again.”

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. She hated how warm his words made her feel in the middle of her frustration.

Charles’s expression softened. He leaned in, forehead to hers, and when he spoke next, it was a murmur.

“You’re strong enough to handle everything. But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

She swallowed.

“I know you want to do it alone. I just want to be beside you when you do.”

And just like that, the fire in her chest cooled. Not extinguished—just redirected. Grounded.

She leaned into him slowly. Let his arms pull her in. Let the silence settle around them

[theskywithin]

💫🪞 Juno in the Houses 💌🕊️

Juno in the houses is about the kind of love that leaves a fingerprint on the soul, the vows we make without speaking, the lessons we keep meeting in every mirror.

If you liked this post, I’m offering 50% off full birth chart readings for the month of May — just $25 / 25€. DM me to book 💌

JUNO IN THE 1ST HOUSE

There’s a mirror welded into the skin with this placement. A silent expectation stitched into your spine: If you love me, I’ll exist. Juno in the 1st doesn’t just seek partnership, it becomes it. Your body turns into a question you’re asking others to answer. Do I belong in this form? Do I deserve to be chosen? In this life, the soul carries the imprint of being defined through the eyes of someone else. The first glance. The first promise. The first wound of being misunderstood. You may fall in love with those who reflect you too well or not at all, constantly orbiting the tension between merging and mattering. But the real vow isn’t to another person. It’s to yourself. To stand still inside your own image. To not flinch when love arrives. To not shapeshift in order to be touched. Juno here asks: Can you commit to being seen as you are, even before someone sees you? Can you stay with yourself long enough to know the difference between recognition and projection? This placement is about re-entering your own body, and calling it home.

JUNO IN THE 2ND HOUSE

Here, Juno moves like a seamstress. She threads her needle through your skin, stitches your worth into the lining of everything you touch, velvet glances, half-sipped silence, the weight of a wrist pressed into someone else’s palm. Love becomes cloth. Tangible. Measured in texture. You don’t just want to be chosen, you want to be kept. Wrapped in. Handled like something rare. But the pattern is old. You carry a memory of being appraised, not adored. Cherished for your function, not your form. And so you tighten your laces. Reinforce your hems. Offer yourself like a tailored coat: Will I warm you enough? Will I fit the shape you need? There is grief, sometimes, in how easily you offer comfort. And in how few ever ask what it costs you. But the soul’s promise isn’t to remain wearable. It’s to no longer confuse usefulness with love. To stop shrinking into garments that were never cut for your shape. You are not a fabric for others to wrap around their emptiness. You are the original thread. The heirloom pattern. The velvet of being that softens with time, not loss. And one day, love will come not to claim you, but to sit quietly beside you, palms open, asking nothing. Because the vow has changed. You no longer offer yourself to be used. You offer yourself to be known.

JUNO IN THE 3RD HOUSE

Juno here is a secret letter folded into the lining of your voice. It’s the vow you try to speak without knowing the language yet, the one you’ve been rewriting since childhood, every time someone interrupted you, misunderstood you, or loved you only for the version of you that kept quiet. Love, in this house, is made of syllables. Of late-night sentences braided with fear. Of conversations that begin with honesty and end with translation, you say truth, they hear threat. This placement carries the ache of being split between words and meaning. You learned early to speak carefully. To listen harder than anyone else in the room. To shapeshift into the dialect of the one you adored, mirroring their cadence, adjusting your tone, rewriting your truth to stay close. But your soul didn’t come here to echo. It came here to name. To speak not just to be understood, but to be real. And so, Juno in the 3rd doesn’t ask for a partner who’s clever. It asks for one who listens between the lines. Who hears the tremble behind your metaphors. Who doesn’t correct your grammar when your grief slips out mid-sentence. The vow isn’t just to communicate. It’s to unlearn all the ways you made yourself more palatable in love. It’s to stop translating your truth for someone else’s comfort. Because when you finally speak in your own accent, the one shaped by all your contradictions, the right one will answer without asking you to explain.

JUNO IN THE 4TH HOUSE

Juno here is not in the room. She’s in the walls. She’s the creak in the floorboard no one else hears, the chill that moves through the house when memory passes by. She’s the promise the soul made long before this life began: I will never build a home on fault lines again. There’s an inheritance in this placement, not of blood, but of blueprint. Somewhere along the lineage, love meant survival. Affection came with conditions. Safety arrived with silence. So now, you hold your breath around people who say “forever,” wondering if they’ve ever seen a foundation crack from the inside out. Love touches the most hidden part of you here. The part that flinches at softness. That rearranges the furniture of your heart whenever someone gets too close. That longs to be known but locks the door before anyone can knock. Juno in the 4th teaches that intimacy is not about history, it’s about shelter. Not about origin but return. The partner your soul remembers isn’t the one who lights a candle in your hallway. It’s the one who brings kindling to the storm. Who sits with you in the basement of your being, where the ghosts of childhood still whisper, and doesn’t tell you to be quiet. The vow here is not to create a perfect home. It’s to stop abandoning yourself in the name of keeping someone else warm. Because your heart was a house long before anyone asked to move in. And now, you remember: the light was always coming from inside.

JUNO IN THE 5TH HOUSE

Juno here lives in the orchard. She tastes like fruit warmed by the afternoon, like something that ripens just from being looked at gently. Love, to you, is a sensory thing, not romantic, not grand. Just the slow touch of presence. Just two mouths learning how to speak joy again. But there’s an old wound under this sweetness. A past-life ache that says: If I let myself feel too much, they’ll leave. If I shine too brightly, they’ll get burned. If I fall in love with the moment, it won’t last. And so, sometimes, you pull back when joy gets too close. You interrupt your own laughter. You brace for absence before the hand ever lets go. Juno in the 5th carries a deep knowing: love is not supposed to be a task. It’s supposed to be a dance. A delight. A sacred kind of silliness. And yet you may choose partners who tighten when they should loosen. Who intellectualize what was meant to be tasted. Who touch you like a concept, not a body. The vow isn’t to create beauty. It’s to become it without shame. To trust that joy can be an anchor, that presence can be a promise, that love can feel like honey, not hunger. When you stop questioning whether pleasure is safe you’ll find someone who doesn’t just walk with you through the orchard, but bites into the fruit beside you. Unafraid of the sweetness. Unbothered by the mess.

JUNO IN THE 6TH HOUSE

Juno in the 6th doesn’t speak in declarations. She moves through the day like a whisper in the spine, folding towels, refilling the glass, asking how you slept. Here, love is not a feeling. It’s a rhythm. A way of staying. But this placement carries the weight of past lives where devotion turned into duty. Where care was transactional. Where love meant overgiving, overfunctioning, outlasting your own body’s limits. So now, you may serve in silence. You may love through effort. You may fall for those who need fixing, mending, translating, as if love were a job you’re not allowed to quit. There is exhaustion here, if you’re not careful, a subtle erosion of self in the name of reliability. But Juno in the 6th is not about self-sacrifice. It’s about sacred calibration. About finding someone who doesn’t just show up on the good days but knows how to meet you inside the mess. Who doesn’t romanticize your strength but recognizes when you're running on reserves. The vow is simple, but profound: to stop proving your love by breaking your back. To let care be mutual, mundane, miraculous. To let someone hold the weight with you, not hand it back with thanks. Love here isn’t loud. It’s the dish still warm in the oven. The chair turned slightly toward yours. The kind of presence that doesn’t ask to be praised, only returned.

JUNO IN THE 7TH HOUSE

Juno in the 7th doesn’t just sit across the table. She becomes the table. The room. The atmosphere between two people when something holy and uncomfortable is being exchanged, not words, not vows, but recognition. There is a strange gravity here. A psychic pull toward the one who sees too much, too soon. The one who looks at you and accidentally unlocks an entire cathedral of memories. The one whose presence makes your own reflection unbearable or beautiful. This placement carries the memory of eye contact that changed you. Past-life entanglements. Silent contracts. Lessons in love that were taught through mirrors, not mouths. And so now, love arrives through the shape of the Other, the one who makes you real. The one who makes you recoil. The one who brings you back to yourself, over and over, whether you want to come back or not. Juno in the 7th is not asking for a partner. She’s asking for a witness. Someone who doesn’t leave when the projection shatters. Someone who understands that sometimes, the deepest intimacy is holding up the mirror and staying while the other one breaks. The vow here is to stop chasing balance. To stop confusing agreement with connection. To stop splitting yourself into halves just to be held. Because the real vow isn’t made to another person, it’s made in their presence, to finally see yourself clearly and not look away.

JUNO IN THE 8TH HOUSE

Juno in the 8th doesn’t make promises, she makes offerings. A name left at the river’s edge. A heartbeat surrendered in the dark. This is not love as a feeling. It’s love as initiation. There’s something ancient here. A soul-memory of bonds that went too deep, or not deep enough. Of giving yourself like an open wound and being devoured instead of held. Of learning, too young or in another life, that love could be a burial and yet still returning to the grave with flowers. This placement doesn’t want surface connection. It wants the bones of you. It wants to know what you look like without your coping mechanisms. It wants the version of you that cries without explanation and trusts that you won’t be left for it. You may find yourself drawn to those who awaken your grief, not to suffer, but to remember. To finally tend to the places inside you that intimacy abandoned. To stop guarding the vault and invite someone into the ruins. But the vow isn’t to fuse. It’s to undress, psychologically, spiritually, emotionally. To be naked in front of another soul and still choose to live. To no longer fear that love will end you and to know that if it does, it will be the death of who you aren’t. This is the house where love becomes a ritual of shedding. Where trust means letting someone walk with you into your own underworld and not asking them to save you. Because the ones who stay won’t just see your shadows. They’ll hand you the candle.

JUNO IN THE 9TH HOUSE

Juno in the 9th doesn’t knock on the door. She waits at the edge of the known world, lantern in hand, whispering promises through the wind. She is not the partner you recognize, she’s the one your bones remember before your mind catches up. Not a soulmate. A soul-echo. This placement hums with distance, not just physical, but existential. You may love those who live in other countries, other timelines, other states of becoming. Or those who remain slightly out of reach, suspended just above understanding, beautiful, untouchable, like a cathedral half-lit in fog. The ache here is not just for union. It’s for expansion. For someone whose eyes widen your cosmos. For the kind of intimacy that cracks open a hidden room in your psyche and lets the stars walk in. But this kind of love can also leave you untethered. You may mistake projection for prophecy. Wander from one profound connection to another, collecting revelations instead of roots. You may love through altitude, never quite descending, never quite staying. The vow here is to believe, not in another person, but in the version of you that emerges in their presence. The one who says too much. The one who loves without proof. The one who isn’t afraid to be foolish in the name of something vast and real. Juno in the 9th is the soul’s promise to trust the pull to follow the strange compass of chemistry and knowing, even when there is no map. Even when it takes you to the edge of your comfort and leaves you there with open hands. Because the kind of love you came here for? It doesn’t ask for certainty. It asks for faith.

JUNO IN THE 10TH HOUSE

Juno in the 10th stands on the roof at midnight. Not to be admired, but to be held up by something other than the ground. There’s a chill to this placement, not unfeeling, but exposed. Like a bell tower catching every echo. Like someone who learned, long ago, that love would come only after achievement. After proof. There’s a soul-memory here of being chosen for what you did, not who you were. Of being honored, but never known. So now, the heart builds scaffolding instead of sanctuary. You learn to love through accomplishment. You offer your competence like a gift wrapped in silence. But inside that posture is a softer vow, waiting. To not be turned into a role. To not become the version of yourself that earns admiration at the cost of intimacy. You may be drawn to partners who appear strong, composed, impressive, but love you only from a distance. From a pedestal. From behind a mask of mutual functionality. The connection is real, but the tenderness gets lost in translation. Because Juno in the 10th isn’t looking for status. She’s looking for witness. For the one who sees you when you’re off-script. Who knows how to stay when the world turns its back. Who walks into the room not to applaud but to kneel. The vow here is to stop proving. To let love come without an audience. To learn that being trusted is not the same as being seen. Because the most powerful thing you will ever do is take off the armor while someone’s watching.

JUNO IN THE 11TH HOUSE

Juno in the 11th doesn't fall in love. She drifts toward it like a signal broadcast across lifetimes, hoping the right frequency hears her hum. This isn’t romance. This is recognition from the outskirts. This is two souls orbiting the same forgotten dream, and realizing, mid-spin, they’ve met before, not in body, but in vision. You carry the memory of being alone in a crowd. Of belonging to a movement, but not a person. Of being celebrated for your ideas but starved for intimacy. So now, love feels safer when it’s abstract. When it has room to breathe. When it doesn’t ask for skin-to-skin closeness but soul-to-soul resonance. You may fall for minds before bodies. For friendships that slowly shape-shift. For those who carry a glint of the impossible in their eyes like they remember the same lost utopia you do, even if they never say it aloud. But the risk here isn’t distance. It’s dissociation. It’s confusing connection with concept. It’s mistaking collective love for personal touch, and forgetting that even the most cosmic bonds need warmth to survive. The vow is not to disappear into the dream. It’s to come back to earth with someone who holds the same sky in their chest. To learn that loyalty isn’t about ideology, it’s about presence. About knowing someone could choose anyone and still shows up, again and again, for you. Because in the end, Juno in the 11th isn’t looking for a crowd. She’s looking for the one who finds you in the static. Tunes in. And stays.

JUNO IN THE 12TH HOUSE

Juno in the 12th doesn’t wear a ring. She wears a shadow. She wraps herself around your aura like a forgotten melody, the kind that haunts you, even if you can’t place where you first heard it. This placement is not about partnership. It’s about surrender. About the kind of love that lives in the spaces between moments, the glance that lingers, the dream that repeats, the silence that doesn’t need to be filled. You may carry the imprint of hidden love. Of devotion unspoken. Of soul contracts that were broken before they could be named and so now, love feels like a riddle you can’t quite solve. You fall for ghosts. For feelings that arrive before their source. For people who slip through your fingers but remain lodged in your spirit. There is grief here, but also grace. Juno in the 12th asks: Can you love without possession? Can you stay open when no one is promising to stay? Can you believe in a bond you may never fully explain? The danger, of course, is vanishing. Becoming the dream instead of the dreamer. Waiting in the silence so long that you forget your own name. But the vow, the real vow, is not to lose yourself in love. It’s to trust that what’s real doesn’t always have a form. That the heart knows what language cannot hold. That even the invisible can be intimate. One day, someone will love you without needing to find you. And you will realize that you were never lost. Just hidden, until now, in the space where the soul whispers yes.

✨ Want to go deeper into the language of the soul? My book The Sky Within is a poetic guide to decoding the birth chart, now available on Amazon and all digital platforms.

[inkspiredwriting]

A Life Worth Fighting For

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: It's time we all got our five back. Five needs y/n, in every timeline. If I'm honest, I don't want to read anything more about this Five/Lila relationship. For me that never happened. From now on I'll be posting the stories that I've already finished writing

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6

The air shimmered with energy as Five and Lila landed in yet another timeline, they found themselves in a cozy, well-kept house that radiated warmth and comfort. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of flowers from somewhere nearby.

Lila glanced around, her brow furrowed with suspicion. “This doesn’t look like any of the timelines we’ve been to,” she muttered, her hand instinctively moving toward the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. “Too quiet, too… perfect.”

Five didn’t respond immediately. He was scanning the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The polished wooden floors, the cushy furniture, the family photos lining the walls—it was all so domestic, so ordinary. It felt like the calm before a storm, and after seven years of battling against the odds in a timeline where everything was wrong, he couldn’t trust it.

“We need to be careful,” Five said finally, his voice low. “This place looks safe, but it’s too familiar. We could be in one of those timelines where something’s just a bit off.”

“Like that time where your younger self shot at us??” Lila quipped, her lips curving into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Exactly,” Five replied, the memory flashing through his mind. “Let’s find out where we are and who’s running the show here.”

Just as he was about to suggest searching the house, the door to the living room swung open. Both Five and Lila instinctively tensed, ready for whatever was about to step through.

But what they saw caught them completely off guard.

Another Five stood in the doorway, looking just as surprised as they were. This version of Five was dressed casually, in a button-down shirt and jeans, a far cry from the suits that the time-traveling Five was used to. He looked… settled.

“What the—” the other Five started, his eyes narrowing as he processed the scene before him. “What are you doing in my house?”

Five stepped forward, his gaze locked onto his counterpart. “We’re from a different timeline” he said, his voice steady.

The other Five’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed again with suspicion. “A different timeline? What do you want?”

Before Five could respond, Lila spoke up, her tone laced with annoyance. “Listen, mate, we don’t want to be here any more than you want us to be. We’re just trying to get back to our own timeline, but we’ve been stuck in the wrong one for seven years. Seven years!”

The other Five’s expression softened slightly, though the wariness didn’t leave his eyes. “Seven years? What happened?”

Five took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as memories of those long, grueling years came rushing back. “We got trapped,” he explained, his voice quieter now. “No way out. We were stuck there for what felt like a lifetime. And… well, we ended up together.”

For a moment, there was silence. The other Five’s eyes flicked between his counterpart and Lila, his expression growing darker with each passing second. “You ended up together?” he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone. “You and her?”

Five nodded, bracing himself for the reaction he knew was coming.

The other Five’s jaw tightened, and without warning, he stepped forward and smacked his counterpart on the back of the head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice a mix of anger and incredulity. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

Lila’s eyes flashed with anger, but Five raised a hand to stop her from retaliating. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, though even as he spoke the words, he knew how weak they sounded.

“There’s always a choice!” the other Five shot back, his anger unabated. “You’re telling me that in seven years, you never once thought about the consequences? About Diego? He’s her husband in our timeline, for Christ’s sake! They have three kids together!”

Five flinched at the mention of Diego, a pang of guilt stabbing through him. “I don't have a girlfriend or wife,” he said defensively, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I have no one.”

At this, the other Five’s anger seemed to shift, turning into something more like pity. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because you gave up,” he said quietly. “You gave up on yourself, and you gave up on your family.”

For a long moment, Five couldn’t find the words to respond. The weight of what his counterpart was saying pressed down on him like a lead blanket. Had he really given up? Had he allowed himself to lose sight of everything that mattered because he was too tired, too lost, to keep fighting?

The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the unspoken regrets and what-ifs of a life that could have been.

“Look,” the other Five said, his voice softer now, “I know how easy it is to get lost in this mess, to lose sight of who you are and what you want. But you can’t just throw everything away because things get hard. You have to fight for what matters.”

Five looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t too late, that he could still find the life he’d always wanted, the love he’d convinced himself was out of reach. But the last seven years had left him scarred, beaten down by a world that had taken so much from him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from outside. He looked up and saw that the other Five was gazing out the large bay window, a small smile on his lips.

Five followed his gaze and felt his heart clench at the sight that greeted him.

In the garden, a beautiful pregnant woman was playing with a little girl, who looked to be around four years old. The woman’s laughter was like music, her face glowing with happiness as she twirled the giggling child around in her arms. The little girl had a mop of dark hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief—eyes that Five recognized all too well.

“That’s Y/n,” the other Five said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “And that’s our daughter, Maddie.”

Five stared at him, his mind reeling. “I want what you have,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I want… her.”

The other Five nodded, his expression firm but not unkind. “Then fight for it,” he said. “Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on her.”

Five’s throat tightened as he watched them, his heart aching with a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. This was it. This was what he had wanted, what he had fought so hard to protect but had never truly believed he could have. A family. A home. A life filled with love.

He could have had this. He could have had her.

“I can’t believe…” Five started, but his voice broke, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe I gave this up.”

“You didn’t,” the other Five said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet. You still have a chance to find her. You still have a chance to make this life your own.”

Five closed his eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to drown him. He didn’t deserve this—this kindness, this hope. But he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to find his y/n, to have his own Maddie, to fight for a life worth living.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the other Five watching him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Go,” the other Five said gently. “Find her. Fight for her.”

Five nodded, and then turned to Lila, who had been watching the exchange in silence. She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and understanding, knowing that whatever they had shared was over.

“We should go,” Five said softly, his eyes meeting Lila’s. her expression unreadable, and with a final nod to the other five, he teleported them both away, leaving the other Five standing alone in the quiet house.

A few moments later, the front door opened, and Y/n and Maddie walked in, their faces flushed with happiness from their time in the garden. Y/n smiled warmly at Five, the love in her eyes undeniable as she approached him.

“Everything okay?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice as she noticed the tension in his posture.

Five looked at her, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he kissed her gently on the lips.

“Everything’s perfect,” he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m just… so happy that I have you. You’re my one true love, y/n. No one else. Just you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes shining with love as she leaned into his embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

Five held her close, the weight of everything that had just happened slowly fading away as he focused on the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of her breath. This was his life, his family, his everything.

And he wouldn't give that up for anything in the world...timeline or not.

[floraisunwell]

Promise | s.r

who? post-prison!reid x ex gf reader (

category: angst

summary: Spencer left you 5 months ago without a word for undisclosed reasons but he comes teary eyed to your door after seeing a girl that looks a little too much like you.

based on (very loosely lol): promise by laufey. the fic does not follow the events of the song at all but i love the "if it weren't for the sight of a boy who looked just like you standing out on Melrose avenue" part right at the end so it's all on that line.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: my first fic ahhhhhhh, i'm so nervous and happy rn, this is my baby and ik there's a lot of space for improvement but i'm proud of my writing, this comunnity is full of amazing people and if it wasn't such a lovely space i would have never posted this. shoutout to @lilacsandlavenderhaze for being the first to hear my idea and telling me i should go ahead and write it; @spencersbabymama for telling me to cut the bullshit and self deprecation and post this; and to @esote-rika for being my first readerrrr. love y'all <3

dividers by @aquazero

English is not my first language pls tell me about any spelling and grammatical mistakes. enjoyy!

The air was cold and crisp, a light drizzle could be felt dampening the streets – a scene typical for this time of the year in Washington. Spencer had gone out with the team to get some drinks after a hard but successful case, he was happy, of course, the fact that they had caught the killer pleased him but everything inside the building felt overwhelming: the voices, and the drunk conversations, all the limbs touching a little too much, the overly loud music. He was out of it and to be honest he had been out of it for quite some time now, actually some months, everyone noticed how the breakup made him feel.

Funny, because he was the one to leave.

After you came back from a long shift at the hospital excited to cuddle with the love of your life (or so you thought) but the only remnant of him you found was a sticky note placed on the cover of a book you were reading at the time:

"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore"

That was all he said before destroying everything you two had built over 3 years, 3 years of love, pain, and learning, 3 years of giving everything for each other, destroyed in less than 24 hours like nothing.

He hadn't been the same for a long time, though—not since prison. You didn't blame him; you tried to understand him, give him space, time, and everything one could need to heal. He was not the same, of course. You weren't expecting the same Spencer to come back, sure, but you also were not expecting whoever he had become: some cold and distant version of the person you used to know.

Your relationship with Spencer is divided into two eras: Before Millburn and After Millburn.

Before Millburn, you guys were somewhat happy. Both of you were overworked and stressed but happy. You would tell him about your work, and he would tell you about his. In the rare times, he got a day off work, he would hug you whenever he could, like he was making sure you wouldn't slip away.

After Millburn, you didn't talk much, not unless it was necessary, he didn't hug you a lot anymore, in fact, the last time he hugged you was when you went to pick him up at the correctional facility, all the emotions running high, you remember thinking he looked and smelled different, you didn't know he would be so different when you wrapped him in your arms, placed a kiss on his shoulder and whispered that everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. It was all so not fine and everyone around you two could tell. Yet you could have never imagined that Spencer, the man who made the hopeless romantic in you thrive would leave in such a disheartening way.

Back at O’Keeffe’s, the team was still at it. The count of how many rounds of drinks Rossi had paid long lost, Emily and JJ leaning suspiciously close to each other, Rossi nursing some unnecessarily extravagant drink, Garcia and Morgan somewhere on the dance floor and Hotch nowhere to be seen. Spencer had gone outside, hoping the sensory overload would ease with the fresh air, it did slightly but the agglomerate of people was no better than the one inside, so many people, reeking of alcohol, walking like zombies, and saying nonsensical things. As he was standing near the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, the soft rain dampening his hair, Spencer let his mind wander and it ended up where it always does: him contemplating if leaving was the right decision.

He was so deep in this thought that didn't even notice the man approaching until it happened- a hard shoulder bump that took him away from his thoughts.

"Sorry dude" the man muttered not even caring to glance back as he moved past. Spencer blinked, shocked as he watched the man move swiftly toward a small group of people nearby. A group that included you.

His heart jumped to his mouth. No - not you. But she looked like you, uncannily so. She even acted like you, the way she threw her back when she laughed or how she scrunched her nose in an attempt to put her sliding glasses in place - he could've sworn it was you.

For a fraction of a minute, he actually thought it was you. His breath caught in his throat and he took a step forward before reality sank in and he retreated. It wasn't you; it was never you.

But as he watched her wrapping her arms around the man's neck, as his hands almost automatically moved to her waist, and they both smiled like idiots in love. He couldn't help but feel like he had been stabbed and the knife was being twisted inside him. Was this some type of fucked up joke by the universe? "This could be you, bad thing you lost her" The thing is, he didn't lose you- he gave up on you which was worse because maybe if he had stayed, and tried a little harder, you would still be together.

He staggered back a few steps, and if he hadn't reached the wall, he would've fallen considering he already felt his knees buckle as all the bottled-up emotions from the past five months came crashing onto him; he was overwhelmed by his own feelings, eyes blurry with tears as a lump formed in his throat and the weight on his chest got heavier.

Blindly, almost unconsciously, he reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. His thumb hovered above your name in the contacts list. The message he typed was brief:

"Are you home?"

He didn't get a reply, he wasn't waiting for one. The moment he hit send his legs were already moving, practically running towards the street to hail a cab. He gave the driver your address, and it came out of his mouth easily, as if he had never stopped saying it.

You were in the shower when his message came through, you didn't pay the loud notification much attention, not even caring to glance at the device when you heard the familiar ding. You prioritized the small occasions you got to take care of yourself when your job is to take care of others.

Now freshly showered and in the kitchen making tea- the next step on your little routine- you hear a knock on the door, a distinct knock, a knock you could never forget, not even a billion years from now. Your heart stopped for a moment, heartbeat pounding in your ears, you didn't quite register you were moving towards the door until it was open and he was standing there, his brown eyes open wide once he registered your presence, reacting as though you opening the door was the last thing he expected. You just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Spencer wrapped you in his arms like he used to, his nostrils flooding with the smell of your shampoo and body wash, smells he recognized all too well, smells that felt like home.

You pushed him away, shattering the brief feeling of happiness he had started to feel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked almost a little too loud in an attempt to hide the hurt in your voice

"I miss you" he replied eyes searching for yours.

You stood there, arms folded, trying to hide how weak those words made you feel. He had no right to miss you, not after leaving the way he did.

Why should I care? You thought to yourself. He made it clear that he didn’t care about you, but you cared, you cared so deeply that it made your heart ache.

You were not going to let him in.

"You can't just stop talking to me and then come here like nothing happened, Spence." You couldn't help using the nickname, your voice falsely steady, trying to hide the pain.

"I know, I just-can I come in?" No reply "Please"

You hesitated, gripping the door handle tighter as a tornado of emotions swirled on your chest. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. You wanted to slam the door in his face, make him feel a small fraction of what you felt over the past 5 months. But buried beneath all these harsh feelings, there was something softer, something you felt ashamed to acknowledge: the echo of all the nights you stayed up worrying about him and what could happen in his work, all the mornings you woke up without the smell of coffee lingering through the apartment.

You let him in.

You tried to convince yourself that letting him in was about answers- you deserved an explanation, some sort of closure at least. But as you stepped aside and watched him walk past you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Because no matter how much he’d hurt you, part of you still longed for the man he used to be.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You muttered, as much to yourself as to him. He gave a slight nod in reply, eyes watering. Damn him and his big brown eyes.

 As you were turning around after closing the door behind you, he captured you in a hug again and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him too.

★

Somehow, he ended up asleep in your bed and as you gaze at his peaceful resting face, your mind tells you to wake him up, tell him to go home and never come back, tell him that he doesn't get to leave and reappear whenever it suits him, tell him that he can fuck off for breaking your heart like that. Yet, you don't do any of that, because your heart tells you not to.

tysm for reading, likes and reblogs are always deeply appreciated

@angellic4l it's finally here bestieee!

[verizzafai]

Just to ask. If King Shadow and Jester Sonic was in the sonic verse—what would King Arthur and Sir Lancelot think of them?

Hmm dynamics dynamics dynamics… (Also Sonic Verse part update at the bottom!)

Bell = Jester Sonic

King = King Shadow

Changes “Bells” just to “Bell” because I kept reading “balls” LMFAO)

Bell and Sir Lancelot

- Bell absolutely adores Lance. He’s just like King, but without the bite. When Lancelot isn’t trailing behind Arthur, it’s likely you would find Bell trying to make him crack a smile or laugh. Doing tricks or re-counting stories. Lancelot thinks Jesters in general aren’t required for a kingdom to function, but he doesn’t mind the presence of Bell and secretly finds him a bit amusing.

Bell and King Arthur

- King Arthur is glad to finally have a pair that understands them, at least on a worldly level. While Bell and King are from a different, much more fantasy like world, they talk similarly which is nice. Arthur even laughs at his jokes and feels comfortable leaving Bell with Lance when he’s off to talk with the others. Bell also really admires and respects Arthur, especially since he and Lance clap at the end of his performances.

King and King Arthur

- King and Arthur have a mostly diplomatic relatonship. They treat each other the way they would treat the kings of their worlds. But King is definitely more hostile, a tug during a too tight handshake to try and throw Arthur off balance would be common. But even if King towers over Arthur, he isn’t intimidated so easily. King of course sees this as a challenge, so he continues to subtly disrespect him at every opportunity.

King and Sir Lancelot

- King would ignore most of the Shadows, seeing them as lesser to himself. But this would certainly be ten folded with Lancelot. Even if Lancelot ranks high in Arthur’s personal court, King still sees him as someone subservient, aka not worth his time. Lancelot extremely dislikes King for the way he treats both Arthur and Bell. While he tries to remain diplomatic, even he can’t help the occasional glare and snide remark.

Bell and King

- Okay, this is where it gets a little messy. Bell and King are pretty toxic so you’re going to have to bear with me here. (We have too many happy couples guys) Bell has been working in the kingdom since both he and King were kids. When King took over after Black Doom, he kept Bell around to amuse him, sending away the other jesters who worked alongside him. Bell does his best to keep a smile on his face, he is really good at repressing his emotions and acting positive. They have a very strong power imbalance, even if Bell is allowed to poke a little fun at the King. And King isn’t against using it. While not totally abusive, it would deifneltey toe the line.

However, in the Sonic Verse, King would very quickly get a reality check that he can’t treat Bell the way he would back home with most of the Sonic’s, and even a few Shadows, stepping in to cement that it doesn’t work that way here. I’d have to be very sensitive in the way I handle such a topic and do more research on it before I truly wrote anything for them.

Maybe after Sonic Verse is finished, there would be a second one where I could include more Sonadow pairs. (Pirate Sonic and Shadow, Zonic and Zhadow, Their gay animal print outfits, Archie Versions, STC/Fleetway, etc) but maybe more as a universe jumping adventure!

This makes me want to draw them all now… guys please

Also no Sonic Verse part today or tommorow, maybe expect the next one either Sunday or Monday. I’ve been a little nervous to post these next parts since we’re finishing up our first arc 🥹

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Wouldn't it be nice

Part four

Summary: A dinner at your place leaves you and Harry talk through things before... things heat up.

Pairing: Harry Castillo x fem. reader

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: (for this chapter; check overall warnings for this series in the Masterlist ) dinner date, food, talking, idiots in love, some making out, feelings, fluff

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Main Masterlist // Harry Castillo Masterlist // Wouldn’t it be nice Masterlist

Emily was so exhausted from her day at the daycare, that she went to bed without much fuss. You made her a quick dinner (spinach omelette, she’s big on breakfast foods for dinner), gave her a quick bath and it didn’t even take a whole story for you to read to have her asleep in her little pink bed. 

Closing the curtains before you got out of her room you quietly closed her door after making sure her night light was on. 

Outside of her room you leaned against the door, sighing, your shoulders dropping. 

A quick look at the clock told you that Harry would be here in the next 45 minutes. 

You used the time you got home after work to tidy a little, Emily being a big help with filling your new bookcase with all the books you had shipped here from home. 

It was a small apartment. 

A small that hallway only had four doors. 

Emily’s room.

The bathroom.

The living room with a small open kitchen.

And your room.

The room you were standing in in now, trying to decide what to wear. Which was…. Stupid. Harry pretty much had seen (and touched and licked) every inch of you. Well before you had a baby. But… you wanted to look pretty. 

Hearing that he fell in love with you did something to you. 

This man, who could have everything and everyone he wanted, he fell in love with you. But that was three years ago. And he fell for a version of you that wasn’t real. You looked at your face in the mirror, small lines around the corners of your eyes that hadn’t been there before. 

You looked different, older. 

Exhausted. 

Could he really love you?

Shaking your head you took a deep breath before you pulled one of your favourite sweater dresses over your head. Giving yourself one last look in the mirror you walked out of you room, closing the door behind yourself. 

You walked into the small kitchen, putting the dishes from the small dinner you had thrown together for Emily into the dishwasher before you wiped down the counters. It almost looked homey.

Lighting one of the big scented candles you had indulged on before you moved you hummed to yourself. You didn’t have a dining table or area. There were four chairs at the kitchen island that separated kitchen from living space, so this would have to do. 

Would that be okay?

He was probably used to a different setting. You wondered how Harry lived.

Did he have a townhouse? One of those brownstones you saw on sex and the city?

Or was he more of a apartment type of guy? A penthouse maybe?

You never really thought about it. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a notification on your phone. 

Harry texted you he was here. 

Suddenly your nerves were back. Your fingers brushing down the fabric of your dress after you buzzed him in. 

This was Harry. 

Harry, who loved to talk about how he grew up outside of Washington.

Harry, who watched Pride and Prejudice with you at 2 am in a dark hotel room in literal paradise while he held you in his arms. 

Harry, who had kissed you in a way you have never been kissed before or after him. 

There was a knock on the door and you took a deep breath before your hand reached for the door handle, twisting it to open it. 

And there he was.

„You’re nervous,“ Harry had put his phone on speaker as he stood in the big walk in closet of his penthouse. He had prepared everything. 

He had ordered food (he ordered at Rezdôra, who usually did not do take away but dropping his name had helped) that he would pick up on his way. 

He had ordered flowers (red peonies for you, daisies for Emily) that were already waiting downstairs with his doorman if the notification on his phone was correct. 

All he had to do now was get dressed and be on his way. 

„Fuck yes I’m nervous. It’s not everyday that you get to have dinner with the woman you fell in love with on an island, only to not see her for three years, and when you do you find out she had your baby and all without you knowing,“ he said, gripping the bridge of his nose. 

He heard his sister sigh on the other end of the line. 

„Just put some jeans and a sweater on and be on your way,“ she said and Harry rolled his eyes. 

„Very helpful, thank you,“ he grumbled and Sarah laughed. 

„That’s what I am. Helpful. But in all seriousness. Just use tonight to talk. I know you’re halfway on your way to buy a ring for her, but keep in mind that there is a little girl that probably has no idea who you are. Even if she’s as smitten with you as you are with her, it’ll take time,“ she reminded him gently while he put his sweater on. 

„I know,“ he said with a sigh. He reached for his watch, slipping it over his wrist.

„Just… relax. Have a dinner. Get reacquainted with each other and… use protection,“ she added and he shook his head with a laugh. 

„Remind me to be just as helpful as you are right now when you meet someone,“ he picked his phone up, taking one last look at himself in the mirror, before he walked out towards the elevator that would take him down to his car. 

„I would, but I will never date anyone ever again, so I’m good,“ she teased back. 

„Yeah, Yeah,“ he shook his head, putting his coat on. 

„Good luck big brother,“ she said softly and he found himself smiling as the elevator opened and he stepped in. 

„Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow,“ and with that he ended the call. 

Driving through New York City would never be one of his favourite things, but he didn’t want anyone to know about you yet, so he chose to drive himself instead of calling his driver. With the Flowers and the food he had picked up from the restaurant he drove through the traffic of this city, before his navigation finally told him that he reached his destination. 

After finding a parking space he got out of the car, looking up at the old building. 

Not the best neighbourhood, but also not the worst. He got the food and the flowers out of the car and made his way towards the house. Texting you when he was at the door he only had to wait for a minute before he was buzzed in. 

He took note of the very secure front door, as he made his way inside, taking the stairs up to the second floor where your apartment was. 

You were there, just behind the door. 

You, who knew a side of him he hadn’t shown anyone in a long time. 

You, who fed him all the green M&M’s because he insisted they were his favourite. 

You, who made a small noise every time he kissed you that he was still dreaming about. 

When he finally was in front of your door he took a deep breath before he raised his hand to knock, a big smile sneaking to his face when you opened. 

The flower arrangement he brought was so big it almost didn’t fit on your coffee table. 

Beautiful big red carnations sat on your table, and a smaller arrangement of daisies just for Emily that she would get tomorrow. That he even thought of getting her flowers too…

He insisted on serving the dinner he brought, so he asked you where everything was and made you sit at the kitchen island, where you were currently watching him, his back towards you as he plated the food he brought. Your head was resting on your hand was you watched him, your brain still processing that he was really here. 

In your apartment. 

„I remember you liked pasta, so I hope this is okay,“ he said, looking at you over his shoulder. You just nodded. He turned around and reached for the bottle of wine he had brought, opening it with expert hands. You didn’t have wine glasses yet, so he winked at you when he filled your mismatched mugs with red wine. 

„More than okay,“ you said and he smiled before handing you first a mug of wine, and then sat down a beautiful plated portion of pasta in front of you. 

He rounded the small island and sat down next to you with his own plate. 

„Thank you, for this,“ you said and he angled his body towards you so he could look at you. 

He was so close, and for the fist time in three years you smelled it, his scent. The aftershave you had forgotten the name of familiar to you. 

His eyes were lingering on your lips before he looked up into your eyes again. 

„We should eat,“ he whispered and for a moment you were disappointed, wondering if he wanted to say something different instead. So you smiled.

„It smells delicious,“ you said as you picked up your fork. 

You talked throughout dinner. 

About everything and nothing and it was as if no time had passed at all. It was just like you were back in those four walls of your hotel room. The awkwardness was gone as you updated each other about what had happened in your life in the last couple of years. 

The bottle of wine was almost empty when you made your way to the couch, wanting to be more comfortable. 

„I think,“ he said after you sat down, „that if you had kept my number after you left, we would have made it work.“

„You think?“ You whispered and he nodded. 

„You would have moved to the middle of nowhere if I had asked you?“ You asked him and he nodded. 

„I would have. I only wanted to be with you. I have… I have never felt so… intensely for someone that I did, I do, for you,“ he confessed and you lips parted as you took a breath. 

„But the version of me you fell in love with… I don’t know if she was real,“ you said and he frowned. 

„What do you mean?“

„I mean… The confident woman that just took what she wanted, that didn’t think about tomorrow, that’s not me. I am an over thinker, I am a perfectionist and a control freak. I am so much more complicated than the version you met…“ you shook your head.

Harry just kept looking at you before he took your hand. 

„The woman I met and fell in love with, is the woman who talked in her sleep. It’s the woman who made sure that the room was tidied up so housekeeping didn’t have to much to do. It’s the woman who made sure to ask if their was garlic in every single meal we had because I told her that I was allergic. We spent days together. I know you. And I love you,“ he said and you just looked at him, speechless. 

And before you could talk yourself out of it you crossed the distance between the two of you and kissed him. Your arms wrapping around his neck and he wasted no time, pulling you towards him, onto his lap as he deepened the kiss, one of his hands on the back of your neck. 

You sighed against his lips and he groaned, lips moving against yours, his tongue slipping against your lips until you parted them for him. Your hands were in his hair, your eyes closed as you allowed yourself to let go. To melt against this man you had spent three years secretly yearning for. 

Slowly, his hand ran down your back, pulling you even closer and you moaned when you felt him beneath you, his cock getting hard. 

„Oh fuck," you gasped, parting from his lips and he wasted no time kissing himself down your throat as you crossed your arms behind his neck. 

„Fuck, that smell. I missed that smell,“ his nose ran over your throat as he took a deep breath. You pulled his head back up, kissing him again, unintentionally moving on top of him and he groaned against your lips. 

„Shit. We gotta.. Fuck I can’t believe I’m saying this, we gotta stop,“ he said and you parted form his lips. You both looked at each other, lips kiss swollen, his hair a mess from the way you had been running your hands though it. 

He never looked better. 

„You’re… you’re right. This… We can’t. I’m so…“ you mumbled, suddenly embarrassed but he kissed you again, stopping you. 

„We need to stop because I don’t wanna fuck you like this. I wanna take my time. And I want to know where we stand. Cause I don’t think I’ll be able to let go of you ever again if we continue this,“ he said and your shoulders fell. 

He wrapped both of his arms around you and let himself slowly lean against the couch, taking you with him, your head resting on his chest. 

You just laid there like this, enjoying the silence that was never uncomfortable. 

He cleared his throat after a while. 

„Tell me about her,“ he whispered and you smiled before you began to tell him about his daughter. 

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reactions to your "let's break up" text prank

Request: Hello! I've been reading your stuff, and it's so good. I was wondering if I could request something? A while back, there was a prank on TikTok with girlfriends texting their boyfriends asking/telling them they wanted to break up. I was wondering if you could do Seventeen OT13 reactions to the same scenario? Let me know if this is okay! Thank you! :)

A/N: Ah, this took me longer to complete than I expected. Anyway, this is their reaction to the general, "Let's break up," text tiktok trend. I know it's a really common prompt, but I still wanted to try it out. The videos the anon later sent me of the trend for the request (because I hadn’t seen before) actually had a twist, like, "What do we do when we break up," or, "When we break up, ___." These felt a bit different from the straightforward, "Let's break up," so I’ll be writing that version as well. I really want these to meet your expectations, anon, as well as for everyone else reading. So, if this isn’t quite what you were hoping for, please stay tuned for my next reaction post—it’ll be up soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one!

For the sake of the reaction, OT13 are not physically with their s/o at the moment.

Content: Suggestive in some members (Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao and Dino) MDNI!, angst if you squint, other than these I think it's cute heheh

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: At first, he thinks you're joking, but the tone of your message makes him pause. He’s a natural leader who reads between the lines, so your message would raise a red flag. He’d immediately call you instead of texting back.

"What’s going on? Is this a joke, or are you serious?", "If something’s wrong, we need to talk about it, not text about it." If you stay silent to keep the prank going, he’d start to worry. “Listen, if you’re upset or unsure about us, we should talk in person. Breaking up over text isn’t like you.”

When you finally admit it’s a prank, you’d hear a heavy sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “You had me thinking about where I went wrong. Don’t mess with me like that, okay?” He’d pout and demand extra cuddles, peppered with kisses as apology payments, but it’s not long before he uses this prank against you, teasing about how you can’t live without him.

Jeonghan: He sees right through it. Jeonghan is the master of mind games, he knows exactly how to flip the script. When he reads your breakup text, he’d smirk to himself and reply with something like,

"Oh no, how will I ever survive without you? 🙄"

Or,

“Shit, what did I do? Let me grab my tissues and cry in public.”

If you double down, insisting it's serious, he might add a touch of fake sincerity just to keep you on edge,

“Alright, if this is real, I need to hear it from you in person. But if you’re joking, just admit it already so that you don't have to embarrass yourself before I start planning my heartbreak playlist.”

When you finally confess, he’d grin slyly and shake his head.

“You thought you could out-prank me? Cute. Now you owe me a nice date to make up for trying to stress me out.” (but was he even stressed in the first place?)

He wouldn’t even pretend to be mad, but his devilish smirk would remind you just how much you underestimated him. It was a nice try but you need to work harder to fool him.

Joshua: Joshua’s initial response is shock. He would be one of the most heartbroken, mainly because he wouldn’t immediately assume it’s a prank. His first response would be thoughtful and kind, showing how much he values your relationship He types and deletes messages a few times before sending:

“Is this really how you feel? Did I do something to make you feel this way? I’d really like to talk about it instead of texting.”

If you don’t reply quickly, he’d follow up with another message,

“Please don’t make a decision like this without us talking. I want to fix whatever’s wrong.”

When you finally admit it’s a joke, his relief would be palpable, and he’d laugh nervously. “I can’t believe you’d scare me like that!” He really thought he lost you for a second. You’re lucky he can’t stay mad at you. But just like Seungcheol he'll pout and will have to make up with him for some more~ (“You better make this up to me. Tonight.”) I'll keep it open to interpretation.

Jun: Jun would be confused and a bit hurt but wouldn’t jump to conclusions. He’d reread the text multiple times, trying to understand where it was coming from.

"I don't understand...."

"Did I do something wrong? I thought we were happy."

"Can we talk about this in person?"

If you keep the prank going, he’d start to blame himself so,

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry.”

“Can we meet and talk about this?”

He was about to bring over your favorite snacks and talk it out and fix things!Then when you admit it’s a prank, he’d groan and playfully pout. His pout would be so adorable that you’d smother him with kisses in apology, and he’d happily take them all.

Hoshi: Hoshi's immediate reaction would be pure panic. He’d spam you with messages, each one more frantic than the last:

"WHAT?!"

"What do you mean break up?"

"Why??"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I’ll fix it, I promise!"

"Don’t leave me!!!"

When you don’t reply fast enough, he’d call you, his voice would be shaky, “Please, let’s talk it out! I can’t lose you!” so when you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d let out the most dramatic sigh of relief and switch to playful scolding in an instant saying things like, “You almost gave me a heart attack!” His whole world actually flashed before his eyes. But he wouldn’t let it slide easily, so you better give him cuddles for a week to make up for this!

Wonwoo: Wonwoo would approach it maturely but with a heavy heart.

"Is this really what you want?"

“If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in your way. But I’d like to know why, so I can understand.”

"I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me."

If you push the prank further, he’d try to give you space while quietly reflecting on what he might have done wrong.

“I hope you’re okay. Just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

After this text from him, you'll have to immediately stop the prank because he's actually taking this into consideration for your sake. When you confess that it was all a prank, he’d take a moment before chuckling softly and saying, “You really scared me there. I was already preparing to give you the space you needed. Don’t joke about something like this, okay?” You really scared this man.

Woozi: He would be stunned and would stare at the message for a long time, unsure how to react. He finally texts back:

“Is this real? Did something happen?”

If you keep insisting it’s serious, he’d start overthinking.

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry. Let’s meet and talk, please.”

When you reveal it’s a prank, he’d let out a heavy sigh and come all the way home to roll his eyes at you lmao. He can’t believe you just did that. Do you think he's laughing? No, he's not. But he'll forgive you this time. He’d try to act annoyed, but the small smile on his face would give him away.

Dokyeom: This poor man's heart would break immediately, and he’d call you with his voice trembling, his speech coming in quick succession, "What happened? Why do you want to break up? I don’t understand. Whatever it is, I’m sorry! Please!"

When you finally admit it’s a prank, he’d laugh out of sheer relief, but you’d sense his lingering panic. "You’re so mean! My heart is still racing!" (It is). So please do us a favour, don't do this type of prank with our cutie patootie and save him from a potential heartbreak.

Mingyu: Mingyu would be devastated but would try to keep it together.

"What? Why?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Can we talk about this face-to-face?."

When you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d groan and collapse onto the couch, his hands covering his face. “You scared me so much! I was about to drop everything and come see you. You’re going to pay for this with a date night—and maybe a private encore performance after.” Again I'll leave this up to your interpretation of what happens after he comes back home.

Minghao: Minghao would handle it coolly but with a hint of worry.

"If that’s what you really want, I won’t stop you."

"But I’d like to know why."

When you admit it’s a prank, he’d shake his head and smirk. "Don’t test me like that again." Again, I'm leaving this up to your interpretation of what happens next when he's back home. (He’d pull you close, his lips ghosting over yours as he adds, "Next time you want my attention, just say so. No need for dramatics." — snippet)

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would immediately start spiraling the moment he reads your text. His fingers would move at lightning speed, sending a flurry of messages that progressively show his panic:

"Why??"

"????"

"What happened?"

"Is it something I did?"

"Please tell me we can fix this."

When you tell him it’s a prank, he’d yell. "YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT TO ME!" He’d immediately start pacing in circles, waving his hands around like he’s rehearsing for a drama, "I was about to cry! How could you do this to me?" while being in call with you. But then he’d laugh, give you a side eye and forgive you.

Vernon: Vernon would be too stunned to react at first. After what feels like an eternity (but is really just two minutes), he’d reply:

"Uh... what? Can we talk about this?"

He's genuinely surprised so when you tell him it’s a joke, he’d sigh and laugh awkwardly cause then it makes sense for you to do a tiktok prank on him. "You’re wild for that. My brain didn’t know how to process it." I mean who can break up with a breathtakingly gorgeous man like him?. Also, you might catch him giving you side glances for the rest of the day, as if he’s still recovering from the fake heartbreak.

Dino: Dino would be heartbroken and immediately reply.

"What? Why?"

"I thought we were happy together."

When you reveal it’s a prank, his gasp would be loud enough to echo. "No way you just did that to me! I was about to cry!" He’d pout and demand endless apologies. His grin would leave no doubt about his plans to make you make up for it. He might be the youngest but again...I'm leaving this up to your interpretation.

[demie90s]

MASTERLIST PT.2

NAVIGATION (Much Easier)

MASTERLIST PT.1

{ WBB & WNBA IMAGINES }

(Pink & Black Edition🖤🩷)

{ l hate a weak!reader with y/n cringe moments. My readers never soft. They crash outs. We pissed. Nah I'm playing but enjoy}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~LSU~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flaujae x You

• This ain't just a chain

→ She let you wear it once. Now it's yours. On your neck during warmups. In the studio. At press. The chain with her initial on it.

• Dirty South, Deeper Love

You’re a rising southern rapper from Baton Rouge, all iced grills and slow-burning confidence. She’s never touched a basketball, but she’s made a name spitting heat—and people keep comparing her to Flau’jae.

• Mics Up & Outta Pocket

• Mic'd Up & Outta Pocket Pt.2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~PHOENIX MERCURY~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diana Taurasi x You

• Tweets with Tequila and Don

→ You’re a little tipsy, a little too bold, and a little too obsessed with WNBA legend Diana Taurasi. One night, the tequila talks—and your Twitter fingers get reckless.

• Say Less, Pt.2

→ You weren’t born a prodigy. You were overlooked, counted out, told to try another sport before you even had a chance to believe in yourself. But when you came back, you came back different.

• Just Read the Line, Dee

→ You force a very grumpy, very confused Diana to do a TikTok trend.“we listen and we don’t judge”. Diana’s not feeling it—at first.

• Candy

Diana doesn't do TikToks. She doesn't dance. Doesn't act. Doesn't play around... until you came into the picture. Somehow, you convince her to do the "Candy Remix" challenge.

Britney Griner x You

Kahleah Copper x You

• Youngin

Natasha Cloud x You

• 2 Kills, 1 Vlog

→ You’re not a pro baller, but you’re hella known—YouTube, IG, TikTok, the works. And today? You’re linking up with your longtime “friend” Natasha Cloud.

• Soft Launch

→ Natasha Cloud is bold on court, loud on social, but private where it matters. You? You’re the reason.

• Whoop, There It Is

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SEATTLE STORM ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sue Bird x You

• Not So Lowkey

→ You and Sue have been keeping things quiet. You’re a rookie, she’s Sue Bird, and no one needs the media or the team blowing things up. But one casual date night—hoodie, hat, sushi—and the WNBA internet loses its mind after someone posts a blurry pic.

• Control Issues

→ You’re a cocky, arrogant, mouthy star on the court—a guaranteed draft pick with an ego that stretches baseline to baseline. No one can check you, emotionally or physically. But then Sue Bird walks into your practice.

• Two Years Too Patient

→ You’ve been mentored by Sue for two years. Respectfully. Quietly. Obsessively. But tonight, after one too many looks and just enough skin, you stop pretending you can wait any longer.

• Dog Off the Leash

→ You’re the rising star in Indiana—raw talent, zero filter, always one comment away from a fine. Legends like Sue and Diana were only brought in to help “tame” you. First mistake. You don’t do tame.

• Mad For What

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~USC ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Juju Watkins x You

• Caught Slippin’ (But Make It Cute)

→ You’re that influencer—pretty, unserious, and always online. Thirsting over Juju Watkins for months on your socials, convinced she’d never actually see any of it.

• Whipped Doesn’t Even Cover It

~~~~~~~~~~~~U of I ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caitlin Clark x You

• She’s Only Sweet to Me

→ You’re that girl—model-pretty, sharp-tongued, New York raised with a mouth that could make a ref cry. Caitlin’s the only one who gets a different version of her.

• Shameless Rivalry Part 2

→ It started with a viral interview. Asked for your top 5 celebrity crushes, you answered without hesitation—Paige Bueckers and Caitlin Clark, tied for #1.

• What You Need

You and Caitlin Clark share a dorm. She has a boyfriend—Connor. But you’ve been in her space too long, too close, too bold.

• Halftime Show

Kate Martin x You

• Quiet Meets Chaos

→ Kate Martin is the WNBA's soft-spoken sweetheart-talented, calm, and loyal to her routines. You're the city's most unfiltered "It Girl".

• She’s Not Me

→ Kate Martin’s doing her best to be loyal—to smile through the dinners, take the photos, and pretend she doesn’t hear your voice every time she closes her eyes.

• Sticky Finger Soft Eyes

~~~~~~~~~~~UCONN~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paige Bueckers x You

• That Doesn’t Stop the Show

→ You and Paige were a secret, quiet thing. But when things ended, they ended. You didn’t speak on it—not until the heartbreak turned into lyrics.

• She Got That Dog In Her

→ You’re known in the underground dance scene for tearing through freestyle battles like it’s personal. Paige is known for being one of the most composed players in college hoops. But when she shows up to your Red Bull-style comp and loses all chill…

• Call Her Guard(ian)

→ You’re used to attention. You’re famous, pretty, and constantly photographed—but not every kind of attention is wanted. One night out turns uncomfortable fast when some guy won’t take a hint.

• She Don’t Even Talk to Us Like That

→ The team’s doing a lighthearted post-practice video segment—favorite moments caught on camera. Until Paige pulls out a private video of reader singing to her while she’s half-asleep in bed.

• Shameless Rivalry

→ It started with a viral interview. Asked for your top 5 celebrity crushes, you answered without hesitation—Paige Bueckers and Caitlin Clark, tied for #1.

• Onto You

→ She’s Paige Bueckers—UConn’s golden girl. Lights follow her everywhere she goes. And me? I’m just a face in the crowd.

• Too Late to Love Me Right

• Legends and Lesbian’s

Azzi Fudd x You

• 10 Things I Hate About You

→ Everyone loves Azzi. She’s sunshine, discipline, pure gold with a jumper. And you? You’re the complete opposite.

Nika Muhl x You

• How Much Was It?

It starts as a joke TikTok trend. Nika mouths “So how much was it?” and you, the rich, soft-launching menace you are, casually reply “$15,000.” You try to keep a straight face. Really.

• Still Mad. Still Yours. , Part 2

→ Nika messed up. Nothing unforgivable-but enough to leave you quiet, closed-off, and ice-cold in your own penthouse. What she doesn't know is you forgave her the minute she apologized.

Kk Arnold’s x You

• Caught

→ You and KK have been dating on the low for months. Nobody knows. Paige— on live, bored and nosy—grabs the phone to go find you.

Whole Team x You

• Coach, I Swear It Was an Accident (It Wasn't)

→ You've been testing Geno's patience since the moment you stepped on UConn's campus. You're talented, unbothered, and just enough of a smartass to keep your scholarship hanging by a thread. But deep down, you're his favorite headache.

• I Don’t Know How to Wish Anymore

→ You’ve always been the glue—the light, the calm, the one who makes the team laugh and makes Geno’s life easier. But what they don’t see is how lonely it feels to be strong all the time.

• Where the Hell Is She?

→ Reader’s always around. Always clinging to someone, stretched out across a teammate’s lap, braiding hair during film. But today? She’s gone.

• Don’t Get Comfortable

→ During a joint scrimmage with another top program, reader shows out. Cool, confident, hitting shots like it’s nothing—and naturally, the other team starts noticing. Compliments turn to flirting. A few players get a little too bold.

• Dance Break, Baby

→ They did not know she could dance like that. When halftime rolls around and reader hits the court in full glam with a majorette squad or professional dancers at her back, the team loses their minds.

• Not One Damn Was Given

→ Reader throws hands on the court after a player body-slams her teammate. Fists fly. The team’s in shock. Hours later, reader hits IG Live and drags the other team with career-ending energy.

• She’s Always Been That Girl

• Halftime Unleashed

→ At halftime of a heated UConn game, the big screen surprises everyone by cutting to locker room footage of the women bonding.

• Bleed Blue…Literally

→ Everyone knew #17 was fine. What they didn't know— at first-was that she's covered in ink under that uniform.

• She Plays For Us

→ You are fine, flirty, and a little too good at everything-on and off the court. When UConn plays USC, things get heated fast.

• Micd Up & Outta Pocket

→ UConn vs LSU. The lights are bright, the tension is real-but #17 is focused on two things: Flaujae and Angel Reese.

• Pretty Hurts Until She Plays

→ Everyone thinks she's just the team's cheerleader with a jersey. Glossy lips, soft voice, and an untouched warmup suit. That is... until Nationals.

• More Then A Teammate

→ You’re the heart of the team. The one who always plays it cool-never too emotional, never too soft-but always there.

• Zumba Queen

→ During a chill team trip to the mall, reader mysteriously disappears—until Geno and the squad hear loud music find her leading a full-on Zumba class.

• Nationals Chaos

• You Can’t Take Her Nowhere

• Main Character

• Soft Spot

• Practice Wife

~~~~~~~~~~~~~LVA ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sydney Colson + TP

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ DW ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paige Bueckers x You

• Clear As Day

→ Paige hits her head, says she has a headache, and Coach doesn't blink. You've always been calm-quiet, focused, dependable. But Now?

• Front Row

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TCU ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Olivia Miles x You

• Loyal

You got a man. But you also got a weakness. Olivia Miles

[coolgrl111]

JEALOUS!ART X READER.

PART 4.

a/n: hiiiii i’m sorry i’m literally evil.. it’s been a year daddy!!!! i’ve been wanting to write more in my fics, so we have another mix of smaus and writing!!! pls enjoy 💋💋

part 1

part 2

part 3

—

she opened the app with fingers trembling like moth wings. drew’s page. a carousel of screenshots. texts ripped out of context. photos from months ago with captions twisted into knives.

“cheating whore.”

“hope art was worth it.”

“funny how you act innocent when you’re on your knees for your best friend.”

her face burned. the room tilted. the silence screamed.

her first instinct wasn’t even heartbreak—it was shame. not because of what she’d done (nothing, nothing, nothing) but because of what people would now believe.

art stirred. turned. blinked at her with sleep-slowed eyes, the worry rising as he took in her expression.

“what is it?”

she couldn’t speak, just handed him the phone.

he read it once. then again. jaw tight, mouth a straight line that trembled only slightly.

“he doesn’t get to do this to you,” he said, voice low. “he doesn’t get to twist things.”

her throat burned. “but people will believe him.”

art sat up, ran a hand through his hair. looked at her like she was something fragile, yes—but not broken.

“then let them believe what they want,” he said. “i know the truth. you do too.”

her fingers went slack.

the phone slid from her hands and hit the carpet with a soft, traitorous thud.

she folded forward, slow then all at once, like paper creasing under rain—arms around her stomach, head pressed to her knees, trying to hold herself in. but the sob tore through her chest without warning, and then another, and then another.

it was ugly.

guttural.

art was beside her in less than a breath.

“hey—hey,” he said, panicked, the word breaking. “no, please—what—what can i do?”

his voice cracked on please.

she couldn’t look at him. couldn’t speak. the pain swelled inside her like a tide, rising fast, drowning her in shame and hurt and the fear that this—this version of herself, shattered and humiliated—would push him away forever. but art stayed.

he knelt on the bed beside her, his hair messy, his eyes puffy from sleep—a hand hovering before it landed on her back, trembling.

his palm moved in slow circles, but he was shaking too hard to make it steady.

“you don’t deserve this,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “you know you didn’t do anything wrong. you’re no cheat. we didn’t...” his words quietened. it was true. they hadn’t done anything intimate. was it bad if she wished they did?

she shook her head, hands covering her face, tears pouring through the cracks in her fingers.

“they’re gonna think it’s true,” she choked. “they’ll think i lied, that i—that we—”

“fuck them,” he said, too loud, too raw. then softer, “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

his other hand brushed her hair back. his eyes were red now, too.

“i hate seeing you like this,” he said, close to crying himself. “it’s like—god, it’s like someone’s reaching into my chest and ripping everything out. i just want to fix it. i’d do anything to fix it. i never fucking liked drew, you know that? never thought he was good enough.”

and then she remembered.

his text.

“i’m in love with you, y/n.”

last night, amidst her panic about the stanford gossip page posting about her and drew—he’d sent it. she hadn’t replied. couldn’t.

it was only six words.

just thinking about it again knocked the air out of her, just like drew’s horrible messages did—only this was a different panic. because maybe she reciprocated it.

she looked up at him, finally. saw the way his eyes searched hers, desperate. his bottom lip was trembling.

“why did you tell me you loved me last night?” she whispered.

he blinked, startled. “because i couldn’t hold it in anymore. because you were so sad. and you’re so beautiful… and i couldn’t stand the thought of you going home to someone who didn’t see you the way i do.”

her breath caught in her throat.

“and now this happens,” he went on, voice breaking again. “and it’s like—i confessed something real and instead of kissing you forever, making you mine— i’m watching you fall apart because of someone who didn’t deserve one second of your love.”

her eyes filled again. not from shame this time. not from fear.

“i hate drew, y/n. i absolutely despise that fucking prick.”

his words were firm, but from the way he looked at her, so soft, it was like she was all he’d ever waited for.

“i’m sorry i didn’t say anything,” she whispered. “i was scared.”

“i’m scared too,” he said. “but i’m not going anywhere.”

his thumbs were still on her cheeks, catching the tears as they fell, brushing her skin like he was memorising the shape of sorrow. and she was crying again—not from fear this time, but from the unbearable kindness in his voice, the way he held her like she was something sacred.

her hands moved slowly, unsure, reaching to hold his wrists. she looked at him—really looked—and saw him trembling just like she was. his eyes glossy, mouth parted like he was afraid of what might happen next.

and then, almost without thinking, she whispered, “then don’t go.”

and leaned in.

their foreheads touched first, like a prayer. a pause. a promise.

and then, finally their lips found each other.

it wasn’t perfect. it was messy and wet and trembling. he kissed her like he had waited forever but wasn’t sure he was allowed. she kissed him like she might break from it, and maybe she was.

they were both still crying. she could taste salt on his mouth, couldn’t tell whose it was. didn’t care.

his hands slid to cradle her jaw, holding her steady. her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt like she needed to anchor herself to something that wouldn’t hurt her. the kiss deepened slowly, like a secret unfolding between them, years in the making. it wasn’t lust. it wasn’t a firestorm. it was gentler, more devastating—it was real.

when they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved far. foreheads resting together. breathing the same air. they both sniffled from the tears.

art let out a soft, broken laugh. “i’ve wanted to do that since we were sixteen.”

she smiled shyly. “me too.”

taglist: @blastzachilles @mrszweig @grimsonandclover @areyoutheregoditsmecelia @hrrysglitter

[tritoch]

i know a lot of people (very understandably) dislike the paladin job quests in ffxiv, particularly HW, but i do think it's fun that, now that the pre-ShB MSQ revamp is complete, paladins now have a very cool and thematic in-game storyline that happens without a word being spoken: the development of passage of arms.

none of the below is directly stated in the script, but imo it's a fairly obvious gloss on what the game presents, if you assume a paladin warrior of light. spoilers for all expansions through the end of 6.X.

in the new version of steps of faith, as vishap breaks through each ward protecting ishgard from attack, lucia mounts a final desperate effort to hold him back, with a very familiar looking animation:

but even lucia can't hold back vishap's flame alone, so the temple knights surge forward to assist her. their efforts make the shield visually more powerful and larger. the temple knights here band together in defense of ishgard, and their knightly resolve to protect their home is the difference between victory and defeat.

lucia and the knights do ultimately succeed in defending the last ward, as you have to defeat vishap before their shield falls or you lose.

later in heavensward, obviously, we will get ffxiv's most famous (failed) attempt at blocking something with a shield.

this moment can be read as fairly impactful on the warrior of light's development; as i've noted elsewhere, after the trauma of watching haurchefant bleed out in their arms at level 57, at level 58 paladins learn to channel their magic into healing (and it's called "clemency," or mercy. mercy for whom? who was guilty?), and as someone pointed out on that post, at level 58 dark knights used to get "sole survivor", letting them heal in response to a marked target's death.

for a time, you literally carry haurchefant's shield with you, and 3.3 very much literalizes in genre fashion the idea that even when you are standing alone, your fallen friends stand with you. you don't need to call any allies to stand at your side and raise their shields with you because they are already there, in spirit.

stormblood marks a pretty important turning point in the warrior of light as a combatant, in my opinion, and the text makes this clear in several ways. first, in pretty much all your jobs, you've now far exceeded your trainers and are pioneering new techniques. this is no less true of paladin, which for 60-70 abandons any trainers at all for you to show off your peerless skills in a tournament.

second, stormblood is straight up a story about you getting stronger. at level 61, zenos kicks your ass. at level 70, you kick his ass. why? because you fought and got stronger and developed incredible new techniques and became a one-man army.

for a lot of classes, this story lines up nicely with the big rotation changes or flashy new finishers on the way from 60 to 70. SMN is now busting out bahamut and casting akh morn; RDM gets verflare and verholy; DRG starts harnessing nidhogg's power directly through dragon sight and nastrond.

the tanks are divided in two: warriors and gunbreakers get huge damaging upgrades at 70 in the form of inner release and continuation, each of which lets them hit the same button many times for lots of damage and satisfying animations. paladin and dark knight get more protective abilities; dark knight gets the blackest night, and there's been plenty said about that already by pretty much everyone.

paladins get passage of arms. instead of a relentless new attack (and you get requiescat at 68, which is a way bigger deal for your dps rotation), your big reveal at 70 for zenos in your fight in ala mhigo is a superior way to protect your party, a shield that lets you stand for your allies so they never have to fall for you again. it's lucia's same shield, except you need no allies' shields to reinforce you, proof of your martial prowess and your ability to transcend limits, and perhaps in truth a reminder that you never really stand alone.

in many respects passage of arms should really feel like a paladin signature move to you now if you are playing it at this point, because you should be popping it in pretty much every fight (you are using your mits, right...?). basically every FFXIV fight has at least one big AOE with downtime that warrants passage of arms usage, usually after the mid-fight add phase with slowly filling bar. since that AOE usually drops during downtime, there's no reason not to pop passage of arms (which otherwise restricts your movement and actions), and even on normal, sometimes every little bit counts on a damage check even if it means dropping DPS (thinking here of harrowing hell P10N on release, which was...less consistent for a lot of roulette parties than you might hope).

so from 70 onward, passage of arms is in a sense a paladin warrior of light's signature move, and certainly the one a player gets to most actually enjoy (since if you're using it, you're by necessity not doing anything besides moving your camera and admiring your sick animation). it doesn't have any competition in terms of spectacle until confiteor, and those you're usually throwing out in the middle of movement.

it's such a signature, in fact, that the only other person shown using your one-person version of passage of arms is your greatest admirer, who studied your legend for over a century.

and it's when he fails (should've popped arm's length, bud) that the warrior of light decides they can't let their friends fall for them, and sends them away with the transporter beacon. this is all wrong: you were meant to die for them, not the other way around. yours is the shield that stands between your allies and defeat. it is you who will win this passage of arms and break your opponents lance. and you do.

and then later, when they need to quickly establish zero's domain as a place of fallen grandeur, the home of someone who once believed in heroes but is now a cool and cynical vampire hunter d, what do they use? a decayed statue of someone in the paladin endwalker gear doing the passage of arms animation, of course.

from a visible instantiation of knighthood as a joint effort to defend what is sacred, to a tribute to the fallen friends whose memories stand by you and animate you, to a symbol of the wol's power as emulated by their allies or darkly mirrored in other shards.

not bad for a mit button you hit once per fight and otherwise never think about!

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Omg i love your works so much i have literally binge read them

If you are taking requests can you do one enemies to lovers for baekjin angst and smut

I really loved the seongje version

Title: "If I Hate You So Much, Why Do I Miss You When You Leave?"

Character: Baek Jin (Weak Hero Class 2) x fem!Reader POV: Third person, using Y/N Setting: Canon universe, set post-Weak Hero Class 2 Tone: Sharp tension, brutal arguments, desperate kisses, hate-fueled sex that turns messy and emotional Warnings: Angst, rough sex, hate sex, enemies to lovers, hair-pulling, dirty talk, some emotional vulnerability, unresolved tension, fighting, possessiveness, choking (consensual), creampie, swearing, and emotional whiplash

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Baek Jin had a way of walking into a room and making it feel colder.

It didn’t matter if the heater was on full blast or if sunlight poured through the windows—when his eyes landed on her, the air turned sharp.

And Y/N matched that energy every single time.

They weren’t always like this. Once, before shit hit the fan, they sat next to each other in class. Passed notes. Shared pencils. She used to think his smirk was hot.

Then something changed. He got cold. Cruel. She got louder. More reckless. They clashed like thunderclouds—volatile and electric.

Now, they couldn’t go a week without a screaming match in the back alley behind the school or tension that made even the Union boys step back.

Baek Jin would lean in close, say something filthy like “You’re not worth my spit,” and walk away before she could slap him.

Today was no different.

Except she slapped him.

Hard.

And he caught her wrist right after.

“Try that again,” he said, jaw tense, voice low. “See what happens.”

Y/N’s pulse thundered in her ears. Her wrist was in his grip, his chest practically touching hers, heat crawling up her neck.

“You gonna hit me?” she bit out. “Go ahead. I’ve taken worse from prettier guys.”

His nostrils flared.

But he didn’t hit her.

He kissed her.

No, slammed his mouth into hers like it was punishment.

Teeth. Tongue. War.

Y/N shoved him into the wall. He groaned, lips breaking only to hiss, “You’re insane.”

“You kissed me first.”

“You kissed me back.”

She was about to throw another insult when he grabbed her waist and lifted her—straight onto the old, abandoned classroom desk, knocking papers to the floor as his hands clawed up her thighs, yanking her skirt up like he hated the fabric for being between them.

Their mouths were still fighting. Her fingers twisted in his shirt. She hated him. She hated that she wanted this. She hated how fucking good he tasted.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled into her neck, breath ragged.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“Not what I asked.”

Then he slid two fingers into her panties and her world shattered.

Baek Jin didn’t make love. He took. Rough, raw, relentless.

His teeth sank into her collarbone as he grinded against her soaked core through his jeans. Her hands were clawing at his back. His belt clanked open, pants shoved down. He didn’t even hesitate—just lined himself up and shoved in.

No prep. No teasing.

Just angry, breathless, messy fucking.

“Still hate me?” he rasped into her ear.

Y/N moaned so loud he slammed a hand over her mouth.

“Thought so.”

Each thrust knocked the desk against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist without her permission. Her body burned. Her pride cracked. She wanted more.

“You act so high and mighty,” he grunted. “But you’ve been wet for me since we started arguing.”

She bit his palm. Hard. He growled.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he snapped. “Should’ve done this months ago.”

His pace grew faster. She clenched around him, and he lost it.

Hand on her throat now. Not choking—just pressure. Control.

“Come for me,” he ordered.

And she did. Like a switch flipped. Her back arched, nails dug in, body trembling under him.

He didn’t last much longer.

One broken groan, one stuttered thrust, and he spilled into her, hips jerking as he held her tighter than he should.

The silence was unbearable.

They both stared at the ceiling for a moment, breathing hard. Baek Jin zipped his jeans. She smoothed her skirt down.

“You done throwing tantrums?” he asked, voice quieter now. Almost shaky.

Y/N didn’t look at him. “You didn’t have to kiss me.”

“You slapped me.”

“You deserved it.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

Beat.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he added, eyes locked on the floor. “Back then. I just… I thought if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt as bad when you left like everyone else.”

Her heart clenched. “That’s stupid.”

“I know.”

Another beat.

She got up. Grabbed her bag. Walked to the door.

Paused.

“You coming?” she asked without turning around.

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re walking me home, dumbass. Someone might try to kiss me again and I’ll need someone to slap.”

A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

And he followed her out.

[riansdiary]

"I HAVE IT ALL NOW" vaunt made using Chatgpt

Dearest Gentle Readers 💎

I have a little something different for you today but I hope this really helps you as much as it helped me. I was experimenting with Chatgpt when I thought of this idea. This vaunt or monologue helped me feel it real and understand that I already have it all now and it's done. I started tearing up as I read it naturally and it made me feel so amazing and it helped me accept that it's all here now. It also made me persist better in the new story.

I don't want you to read this like any other post. I want you to put yourself in the shoes of the version of you who has manifested everything they ever wanted. Act it out if you want to act it out as long as you do it the way that's most natural to you like how you naturally talk. Really internalize that it is already here and you're that version of yourself already. Feel the feeling and knowing that it's done and how it makes you feel.

Here is exactly what I asked it to generate for me. I went with the first one it gave me and then a more casual and simple version.

"Chatgpt make a law of assumption or manifesting cheat for me. Create a monologue for me that I would possibly say in the state of having my desires. Something that can bypass my mind into thinking it's already here because it is"

Here’s a monologue that could help you slip into the feeling of already having your desires. Imagine saying this to yourself in a calm, knowing tone, as if you’re recounting an experience you’ve lived through many times before:

“It’s amazing how effortlessly everything flows my way now. I’m always in the right place at the right time, and things work out better than I could’ve planned. My life has become a series of perfect moments, one after another. The people I meet, the opportunities that come my way—all of it aligns so naturally. I’m living proof that things I once dreamed of are real now, part of my everyday life.

I feel so deeply content and fulfilled. Everything I desire just shows up in ways that are better than I even imagined. I have this unshakable confidence now, knowing that my life unfolds exactly how I want it to, and I don’t need to chase anything. I radiate ease and joy, and others see it too. My energy is magnetic, drawing in the best experiences without me even trying.

“It’s crazy how everything I want just finds its way to me now. I barely even have to try—things just work out. I’m always in the right place at the right time, and it all just clicks so easily. Life feels smooth, like everything’s lined up perfectly for me.

I feel so calm and happy, I’ve already got everything I wanted. I know I deserve it, and I know it’s mine. People notice it too—they see how confident and happy I am. I don’t chase after anything; things just come to me.

Every day, I’m grateful for how good my life is. I have everything I wanted, and it feels amazing. I can trust that everything is working out in my favor, and it’s only getting better from here.”

[myrkulitescourge]

i'm surprised i haven't seen any text posts yet about the Unsubtle Differences between astarion’s tiefling party/high approval forest scene and the one you get after the goblin party.

there’s something so terribly interesting about how the conversation afterward plays out depending on which variation you pursue.

like, most people have seen the tiefling party version by now. astarion basking in the sunlight the morning after, playing off most of what tav says with relative ease, even when they ask about his scars and he tells them about cazador. his cadence is smooth and composed, his smile almost friendly, even though you know, as the viewer, he’s playing a game of manipulation at this point. the only real crack in his demeanor is if tav notices that cazador’s “poem” was written in infernal, which, understandably, startles him.

but recently i watched the goblin party version of this same scene, and everything reads so differently. unlike at the tiefling party, it’s still the middle of the night when astarion tries to leave, thinking tav is asleep—almost immediately after the act, in fact. when tav does speak to him, he’s visibly nervous, halting and stammering in the middle of lines delivered unflinchingly in the other version of the scene. he gestures broadly and fidgets more while talking, his smile comes and goes. there’s even some of his distinctive high pitched, fake laughter sprinkled throughout the exchange, almost identical to later scenes where he's very, very obviously uncomfortable (like if raphael mocks him and magics off astarion's shirt to show the party his scars in act 2, or when confronting the gur children in their cell in act 3, etc etc).

siding with the goblins represents something deeply familiar to astarion, a level of cruelty he's more than familiar with and embraces likely because cruelty and duplicity, to him, go hand-in-hand with the power and freedom he craves so badly—but he won't stay the night with this tav, even if he approves of their actions. no, in this case, he'll keep to what's familiar and attempt to leave them in the forest under the cover of the very same darkness he resents having been cast into by cazador. when he gets caught, it sets him on edge, and everything he says becomes such a blatant lie to save face that tav would have to be completely oblivious not to see through him, or maybe just not care enough to.

but if tav saves the refugees? challenges his worldview and comes out victorious? oh, he'll complain of the poor rewards for his trouble at the party and whine about it being boring, but he decides to stay with tav through the night while they're asleep and on past dawn. he takes a moment to enjoy the morning sunlight, returned to his life after two centuries without. the same is true if you have high enough approval that he asks before the party, in which case, you've almost certainly hit his biggest approval gains: trusting him and supporting his safety. maybe he doesn't trip over his words when he speaks because, well, maybe this is someone he doesn't have to worry about. someone who's already more than proven themselves a foolish, heroic sort with a bleeding heart or otherwise demonstrated that they're already in his corner. in other words, not a threat—at least not to him.

does any of this make sense. i wanna study this guy under a microscope.

[rafesangelita]

heyy everyone, i just wanted to come on here and say a few things regarding a lot of plagiarism that’s been going on, along with some other points that i feel inclined to speak out about. before i start this post, i just want to preface this by saying that i am in no way speaking about anyone in particular, this just applies to the general community, and i think it’s important to not be so divided, especially amongst each other. so many writers in this community are so incredibly talented that unfortunately, copying and stealing of work has become a regular occurrence. below are some topics that i believe needs to talked about and acknowledged in some way.

stealing of au’s and concepts + the claim on concepts and au’s that already exist:

there is a huge difference between creating an au and introducing something completely new that has never been done before in a fandom, or ever for that matter, vs. introducing a concept that has already been around and existed outside of a fandom and bringing popularity to it/making it more well known, thus, kind of lighting a fire and inspiring others to write for it as well. this goes for plot lines, !readers, different versions of !rafe (example: frat!rafe, dealer!rafe, etc..), prompts, and the list can go on. there’s so many original au’s and concepts out there, but there’s also a lot of stuff that’s already been done before that isn’t considered ‘original’, which means it would’t call for the need to be credited for in the first place.

the difference between being ‘inspired’ by someone else’s work vs. publishing a remake and often times NOT crediting the original writer:

no matter what the instance is; being inspired by someone’s work, or publishing your own version of the same original concept by someone else, YOU SHOULD ALWAYS ASK THE ORIGINAL WRITER FOR PERMISSION FIRST. if they tell you yes, CREDIT them, if they tell you no, COME UP WITH SOMETHING ELSE. if you’re ‘inspired’ by someone, your work should not be similar to theirs in a way that the plot, !reader, !rafe, prompt, etc.. is being used in the exact same way as their original work. you could only be ‘inspired’ so much before you’re just paraphrasing a fic, it truly gets to a point.

DIRECT communication:

this would fix most, if not all, of the problems in this fandom. feel like someone is copying you? (using exact, word for word, lines from your writing pieces?) DIRECTLY confront them. feel uncomfortable with the similarities between your work, or works, and another writer’s? DIRECTLY express your concerns with your valid proof. feel as if your layout is being copied and you’re not being given credit? DIRECTLY, kindly, ask for someone to start doing so. politely messaging someone will never make you confrontational or problematic, INDIRECTLY making rant posts that are throwing disses at someone without messaging them about the situation first is what does that. INDIRECTLY speaking out about someone hoping they’ll see it and know they’re the one being talked about doesn’t make the matter any easier when it really all could be resolved with a single message. PLEASE JUST TALK!! we are all (mostly) adults..

note: i say this with only one exception in mind; if you see anything like this and you make the active decision not to make shady posts, acknowledge the situation, confront a person, or simply just put your energy into something like that, and instead you just block the person and move on with your day, that is 100% your choice, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation for anything.

debunking the whole ‘this fandom isn’t welcoming to newcomers’ accusation:

this is not true in the slightest. if you’re a new writer in this fandom, and you’re not starting off by coming up with your own fics and ideas, but instead piggy backing off of others, stealing and not crediting, copying, etc.. you truly can’t expect others to want to interact with you if you don’t have the common decency to not do certain things. this is not just for this fandom, but any fandom that you may write in. think about it like this; if people and other writers are supporting a writer that you’re ripping off of, why on earth would they interact with you if they are already reading similar, if not the same, content from someone else? it’s not possible to establish yourself anywhere if you build your blog off of copying, that’s just the truth!

[siilent-wanderer]

Scripted, But Not Really

Pairing: actress!le sserafim x actress!reader

le sserafim as classic k-drama tropes

masterlist | aespa version | ive version

Chaewon

Fighting for Your Love

in the drama, your character is dating Chaewon’s

but her strict, prestigious family disapproves

really, just a lot of tears, arguments, and heartbreak

the tension is THICK thick and the emotions carry over off-camera

after a heavy scene, you notice Chaewon sitting alone, deep in thought

"Hey. That was just acting, right?

“Yeah. Acting. Felt a bit real, but yknow"

you take her hand, squeezing it reassuringly

for the first time, she opens up about something personal

“I’d still fight for you,” she says suddenly. “If it were real. I wouldn’t let them decide.”

when the crew watched the playback of your filmed scene, you were worried it might be too much for Chaewon

she doesn’t say anything, just quietly takes your hand and holds it in her lap for the rest of the break

a behind-the-scenes clip catches you two on the couch post-rehearsal

Chaewon’s head is resting on your shoulder, your pinkies linked

you’re murmuring something that makes her smile without opening her eyes

the caption when the clip goes viral: “Was this... scripted too?”

Sakura

Time Travel Romance

your drama is about reincarnated lovers

you meet across different timelines, fall in love, forget, and remember all over again

each version of Sakura’s character is a little different, but the one thing that doesn’t change is how she always falls for you

off-camera, your chemistry is still undeniable

like soulmates

“Do you think time travel’s real?” you ask once during a break

Sakura blinks

complete silence bec what would an INTP even say

“…I think time is softer than we think. Maybe it doesn’t move in a straight line, just in loops and echoes.”

“Whatever that means, unnie. I'll just take it as a yes.”

Kkura smiles, the gears turning in her head

she's about to say something uncharacteristically cheesy

“It sounds like I’d go back for you, if I could”

Yunjin

Enemies to Lovers

in the drama, you and Yunjin are constantly at each other’s throats

but fans eat it up, convinced there’s unresolved tension

the director actually takes advantage of this

so one day, the script calls for a shove-turned-accidental-kiss moment

you’re both confident pros… until the actual moment

the first time, you bump foreheads and Yunjin nearly falls over

“So violent,” she teases, laughing. “Trying to break my nose before I kiss you?”

the next take goes smoother. maybe a little too smooth

the kiss actually happens, but she doesn't pull back right away

her hand even brushes your jaw

later that night, you get a message from her:

“so… want to rehearse again? for accuracy??”

“Or just say you wanted to kiss me again.”

"busted"

Kazuha

Fake Dating to Real Feelings

in your drama, you’re co-stars caught up in a fake dating PR stunt

but on and offscreen, you’re always holding hands, feeding each other, walking each other to trailers

the thing is… Zuha starts doing it even when no cameras are around

“You’re forgetting we’re not filming right now,” you joke once when she feeds you from her lunchbox

"Am I?"

one night, a staff member catches you two in the hallway — Zuha leaning in to tuck your hair behind your ear

you don’t even notice the camera filming both of you

the clip airs during one of your guestings and the host teases her

“It was method acting,” Zuha deadpans then glances at you with a mischievous smile. “Very immersive.”

when the final episode airs, and your characters confess for real, Zuha texts you

“ready to stop pretending? :)”

"I thought we stopped weeks ago"

Eunchae

Taking Care of Her Fever

there’s a sweet scene in the drama where your character nurses Eunchae’s after she collapses from overworking

cooling her forehead, feeding her soup, whispering comforts, yknow the regular sweet stuff

BUT a few days later, Eunchae actually comes down with a fever

you find out when the director texts your manager that filming would be delayed for 2 days

you immediately rush to her dorm with meds, warm soup, and a hoodie

“Deja vu,” she murmurs weakly, snuggling into your hoodie

“At least now I don’t have to act,” you say, pulling a chair next to her bed

she clings to your pinky like in the scene, half-asleep but smiling

“Promise you’ll stay until I fall asleep?”

“Always.”

when she wakes up later, you’re still there, head resting by her side

she shares a photo on weverse with the caption "y/n unnie came by to take care of me~ are you jealous?"