#and ofc. change any details if need be :)

[forgaeven]

The countryside stood in stark contrast to the bustling city. The scent of fresh grass blended with the soft sound of a distant stream as he trotted along the well-worn dirt path. His hooves hit the ground in a rhythmic beat, sending up tiny clouds of dust with each stride. Above him, the sun shone brightly, casting a warm, golden glow over the undulating hills and scattered farmhouses. A rare sense of peace enveloped him as he travelled, a feeling he seldom found in the city. The breeze playfully ruffled his mane and tail, and he savoured the strength of his equine body, a sensation that felt both strange and reassuring.

As he approached the village, the locals paused in their activities, their expressions a mix of awe and apprehension. They had heard tales of the legendary being, the horse renowned for its rarity. Now, he was here, a magnificent horse gliding gracefully through their midst. Moving further from the village, the path grew narrower, and the trees began to close around him.

The cool shade offered a refreshing respite after his long trek from the city. He took a moment to absorb the serenity of the forest, attuned to the rustling leaves and the gentle hum of insects. His sharp senses picked up the scent of a nearby clearing and the soothing sound of flowing water. Drawn by the promise of a refreshing drink, he paused, only to be startled by a voice, turning to see a figure he had never met before.

in the creature's defence, ruffnut certainly wasn't being careful.

aye, perhaps she ought to be – but subtlety has never run deep in her family's veins, and ruffnut has no desire to change it. still, she supposes it would've been nice, wouldn't it, t' have the upper hand – if nothin' but the few seconds it could've offered her. oh well, she thinks around a shrug and steps away from any attempt to hide. she comes into the creature's sight, and ruffnut behaves no less like a beast herself, hunching and watching the other closely, as though she is still hunting, and he, remains as her prey.

when ruffnut smiles, the act is all bone-sharp and a misshapen dagger. the kind she likes the most. it gets ya' to be creative when ye' have to use it.

❛⠀yer' a beauty, aren't ya ? ❜ comes her greeting, and her smile doesn't soften as she drags her feet closer, still observin' the other like a mountain lion to a deer; like she's an extension of her dragon-mount, her own beautiful beast that she left only a few roads away. ruffnut has never been scared of losing barf. they've got a bond, her dragon and her. this much distance will not deter it, if she really was in danger and in need of barf's intervention.

ruffnut doubts it though – she's got a habit of escapin' things people would wager she wouldn't. they always do.

❛⠀– beautiful enough, i'd say, to eat. ❜ her jaw snaps together at the end of the continued response, and ruffnut cackles; the sound of it rough, unladylike. before her posture does ease, and no longer is she the hunter, but merely an observer. she grins, ❛⠀yer lucky i've eaten, beast, and so has me dragon. ❜ she finally drags a piece of her clothing away, revealing a waterskin, before she nods to the flowing river. ❛⠀i'm here for the water too. be at ease. ❜

random asks  😳  – always accepting.

[missadangel]

⊱AMOR MEUS AETERNUS⊰ I Masterlist

(Marcus Acacius x Ofc)

little preview is under the information!!

Summary:  You are an assistant to a costume designer on a busy movie set, where the pressure is high and the work is exhausting. One difficult evening during a lunar eclipse, you suddenly spot a man in a Roman military outfit materializing out of nowhere. At first, you think he’s just a drunk or a bit off his rocker. Unbeknownst to you, he is General Marcus Justus Acacius, who has time-traveled from 205 AD to 2025. authors note: It's a bit of a romantic-comedy-drama stuff because Marcus doesn't know that he traveled to 2025, LMAO poor baby (and you know I'm a hopeless romantic). I'll explain in more detail in chapters why he ended up here and what led him to meet the reader, but I'm avoiding spoilers. And the reader will help him get back to his time but accidentally travel to ancient Rome because of something; i can't talk more, lol. Wait for the episodes, please thank youuuu. if you wanna be tagged lemme know! every chapter will be its own warning and music theme Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Reader (Her name is Rose and her hair is dyed) Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI, Smut Warnings: Harsh, cold, grumpy Marcus, and the reader is NOT innocent a little bitchy, Lucilla is mean, Lucius is a jerk(but falls in love with reader), its Septimius Severus' era but Geta and Caracalla are the prince of Rome, time travel, modern-ancient era travels, falling in love, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex (both f&m receiving), all sex, dirty talk, gladiators, battle, war, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury, forced marriage, arranged marriage, sexism, haters to lovers, first love, angst, vestal virgins, vestal priestesses, age gap; reader is 25 Marcus is 45, reincarnation my masterlist

Little preview from chapter 1....

-------This wasn’t the first time you’d encountered someone like him. He had to be one of those extras, probably underpaid and known for causing trouble on set. He likely hadn’t bothered to change out of his costume and was relishing his small role in this odd setting.

“Look, man, I don’t want any trouble, but I really need you to take off that costume. I’m responsible for the outfits, and if anything happens to it, it’ll come out of my pay, okay? Didn’t anyone give you a heads-up about this?” You stepped closer, but he just froze like a statue, clearly sizing you up. 

Taking another look, you noticed the armor under his robe was totally different from anything you’d ever seen. Were they filming something new without you? That couldn’t be right—or worse, what if he’d swiped it? Great. You reached out for a closer look, but before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, spun you around, and shoved you away like it was nothing.

“Aaaah!” You winced, clutching your sore wrist, glaring at him in frustration. “Are you out of your mind? Get those clothes off right now! Can’t you hear me? Are you deaf or what?” 

The guy sighed as he wiped his sword with the hem of his robe and sheathed it as if he were doing it every day. He did it with such flair that even a top-notch actor would be impressed.  

“I see you’ve been really getting into character. Nice job!” you quipped with a hint of sarcasm. “But like I said, I need to grab the costume. So, come on, take it off.”  

"What kind of shameless woman are you to demand that I undress?"

What the hell was that? The accent, thick and unfamiliar, rolled off his tongue in a way you had never encountered before. It felt like a whisper from another age, as if echoes of ancient times were woven into each word he spoke.--------

ao3 link

I. Sol Invictus

II. Tensio

III. Amor Primus

IV. Matrimonium

V. Confessio

VI. coming soon

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Five

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — I listened to Never Be (5sos) exclusively while writing this chapter. Make of that what you will.

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

They sat in one of the smaller meeting rooms off the admin hallway. Too clean. Too bright. Harper sat stiffly on one side of the table, Oscar next to her, foot bouncing under the chair. Chris sat across from them with his hands folded in front of him.

Harper thought Chris looked like Oscar — or, she supposed, Oscar looked Chris.

Chris was just older. Somehow calmer than her stony faced, rarely phased boyfriend.

Although that wasn't hard right now — she wasn't sure Oscar had been calm since she barged into the boys dorms four days ago, all wide-eyed and panicked.

Chris cleared his throat gently. "Okay. First things first—you're both fine. No one's angry at you. We're not going to panic. We're just going to figure this out."

Harper nodded once. Her hands were fisted around her skirt and her shoes tapped against the floor with every nervous motion.

Chris looked between them. "That said, I'm going to ask you both some questions that might feel a little uncomfortable, but they're important. Okay?"

Oscar groaned softly. "Dad..."

Chris gave him a dry look. "You don't get to be squeamish now, mate."

Harper actually let out a breath of a laugh, but it sounded more like a cough.

Chris turned to her gently. "Harper. Have you seen a doctor, or just taken the pregnancy tests?"

"Just the tests," she told him. "I—uh, I don't have a GP here. My mum takes me to doctors all over the country. Private clinics. Some in London, some in Geneva. It just... depends where she is."

Chris nodded slowly, absorbing that. "Okay. That's fine. We can sort that out. But you do need to be seen by someone soon — someone consistent. I'll speak to your mum, just to make sure you're healthy and everything's progressing safely—"

Harper's head snapped up.

"You'll speak to my mum?" Her voice was sharp, incredulous. Her eyes were wide now, panic blooming behind them. "No. No, no, no. You can't speak to my mum. She'll lose it. She'll be even angrier if I let someone else tell her."

Oscar shifted beside her, already on edge. "Dad—"

Chris held up a hand, not unkindly. "Alright. I hear you, Harper. I do. I'm not going to call her out of the blue."

"She'll think I'm doing it to humiliate her," Harper went on, fast now, tripping over her own words. "Like I'm trying to ruin her reputation or something. She'll go nuclear. She always does when she doesn't feel in control. And this—" she gestured vaguely to her stomach, her voice cracking, "this is like her worst nightmare."

Chris watched her for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

"Okay," he said gently. "Then we make a plan. You'll be the one to tell her. In your own words. On your terms. But we can't avoid this, Harper. She's your mother. She's part of this, even if it's hard."

Harper nodded, small and quick, but her hands were shaking now.

Oscar slid his hand over hers under the table, gave it a quick squeeze. She didn't look at him, but she didn't pull away either.

Chris remained calm, his tone steady. "I also need to ask—are either of you, um, involved with anyone else? Right now or before? I don't need names or details. It's just about making sure you're both medically okay."

Harper flushed red, heat creeping from her collar to her cheeks. "No," she mumbled. "Only ever Oscar."

"Only ever Harper," Oscar echoed, a beat late and way too loud.

Chris gave a small nod. "Okay. That's good to know. But we'll still need to get you both checked out. Full screenings, just to be safe."

"My mum's going to want us to see someone on her books," Harper said under her breath, eyes flicking away. "For... confidentiality reasons."

Chris blinked. "Confidentiality?"

"She—she's kind of a big deal," Harper admitted. "She founded La Ruche. It's a fashion label."

Chris's eyebrows rose, just slightly.

"And my dad was... J.J. Whiatt."

Chris leaned back, exhaled slow. "Jesus. That complicates things."

Harper's bottom lip wobbled. "I'm sorry."

Oscar shifted, dragging Harper's chair closer to his, one arm sliding protectively around her shoulders. He whispered something just for her — soft and steady — and she nodded, breathing a little slower.

Chris sat forward again. "Look, I don't want to overwhelm you. I know this is scary. But you need to tell your mum, Harper. Nothing can happen here until she knows, and things need to start happening." He stared at them for a beat. "I'll give you until tomorrow morning. If you haven't told her by then, I'll do it myself. Okay?"

There was a pause.

Then Harper whispered, "Okay."

Chris gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you. You're part of this family now, Harper. Our family. That means than I'm going to look out for you, same as we do for him."

Oscar looked up, throat tight. "Dad?"

Chris met his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Oscar said. "Neither of us meant for any of this to happen."

Chris nodded. "I know. But it did. And now we handle it — like adults."

Oscar didn't respond right away. Then he reached across the table and hooked his pinky around Harper's. Held it tight.

Chris noticed. Didn't say a word. Just flipped open his notebook.

"Okay," he said. "Let's make a to-do list."

—

They sat outside Oscar's dorm window, backs against the brick wall, knees bumped together. It was stupid cold, but neither of them cared. Harper was wearing his blazer — it was two sizes too big on her and covered her skirt and made it took like she wasn't wearing anything underneath it.

She was quiet. Had been for a while.

Oscar kicked a loose stone. "You okay?"

Harper shrugged, but it wasn't a real answer. Her arms were wrapped around her knees.

After another minute, she muttered, "My mum wasn't always like she is now, you know."

Oscar looked over. She wasn't looking at him.

"She used to laugh at my jokes. Braid my hair for ballet. We used to bake Christmas biscuits together and she'd make my birthday cake every year from scratch."

He didn't say anything, just listened.

"When I was nine," she said, voice weirdly flat. "Me and my dad went on a ski trip. He thought it'd be a good bonding experience — just the two of us."

Oscar turned his full body toward her, heart sinking. Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist.

"There was a helicopter," she said. "We were flying off the mountain. There was a storm. It wasn't — nobody expected it. And we went down."

Oscar stared at her. "Wait, what?"

She nodded. "I don't remember us actually going down. I just remember waking up. I was so cold. I couldn't feel my legs. My back hurt. And my arm was... all messed up." She looked down at her hands. "Everyone died. The pilot, his co-pilot, and my dad. But I just... didn't."

"Jesus," Oscar whispered.

Harper gave a weak little smile. "Yeah."

He didn't know what to say. He didn't have the right words for helicopter crashes or dead dads. So he just sat there, panicking quietly.

She didn't seem to expect anything, though. "I've got some scars," she said. "On my back. From the crash. I usually hide them." She smiled at him, a bit wry. "I guess I got good at it."

Oscar frowned and shifted closer to her. "Wait, like... real scars?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, fake ones."

He blushed, and she sighed. Then, carefully, she tugged the back of his blazer and her white shirt up. Just enough to show him. A couple of pale, rough-edged marks trailed across her lower back, like lightning marks carved deeply into her skin.

Oscar's heart thudded at the sight of them. His throat thickened. "Shit," he said, because what else was there?

She pulled her shirt back down quickly and looked away. "It's gross. Whatever."

"No," he said fast. "No, it's not. It's not gross, it's... I dunno." He raised his hand to touch her and then dropped it again with a flush in his cheeks. "Sorry. I just — I can't believe I never noticed."

That made her snort, just a little. "It's fine. My mum didn't even visit me until three days afterwards," Harper said with a shrug. "When she did, she acted more like she was visiting some stranger in hospital than her daughter. I was crying in pain and she that I needed to suck it up because I should've just been grateful to be alive. And then she said that my crying was making people uncomfortable."

Oscar clenched his jaw. "She sucks."

Harper smiled at that, but it was a sad kind of smile. "She started treating me different after that," she said. "Like I'd made her life harder by surviving."

Oscar reached out and bumped her knee with his. "You didn't."

She sniffed. "Feels like I did."

"I can't believe you survived a helicopter crash," Oscar said after a bit, eyes still on the horizon. "You might be the luckiest person I know."

She gave him a look. "Osc. I'm pregnant. At fifteen."

He grinned faintly. "Okay, yeah. But still."

Harper choked on a laugh. "Right. Thanks," she mumbled.

"For what?"

"For not saying something stupid."

Oscar shrugged. "Just wish I could make it all better for you."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Me too."

—

Oscar slipped out of the library after study-hour and ducked behind the music building, phone pressed tight to his ear. He already knew what was coming. His dad had warned him. Still, nothing prepared him for the moment her voice broke through.

"Oscar."

It was sharp. Cracked down the middle. He flinched.

"Mum—"

"I trusted you." Her voice rose — not angry, exactly. More stunned. Wounded. "I trusted you to go to England and be smart. To focus. To take this opportunity seriously."

"I am taking it seriously."

"Clearly not seriously enough if you're knocking up boarding school girls in your dorm—"

"Mum." He winced. Cut her off. "Please don't talk about Harper like that."

There was a pause. A huff. Not quite crying. Not yet. "I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about you. My son. The one I thought had more sense than this."

Oscar pressed a hand to his forehead. The wall behind him was cool against his back. "I didn't mean for this to happen." He felt like a broken record. "Neither of us did."

"No one ever means for it to happen." Her voice was tight, clipped. "And now what? What do you think happens now, Osc? A fairy-tale ending?"

"No." He was quiet a second. "No. I think we just have to deal with it."

Another pause. When she spoke again, her voice was smaller. "I feel like I don't even know you right now."

That one hurt more than anything else. He stared out across the courtyard, eyes stinging. "I'm still me, Mum."

"Are you?" she snapped. Then softer, more pained. "God. You're still a baby yourself. You're fifteen."

"I know."

"You're fifteen, Oscar. And I've seen fifteen. I was fifteen. When I was your age all I cared about was Billy Joel and which shop would sell me my next pack of cigarettes."

He breathed through his nose. "I know."

Nicole didn't answer for a long time.

When she did, it was quiet. Flat. "Your father's there now?"

"Yeah."

"So, what's the plan, Oscar?" She asked on a sigh. "Are you going to raise a child together at boarding school? Split custody between the boys and girls dorms?"

"We haven't even decided anything yet."

"God," she muttered. "Oscar, I just—" Her voice cracked. "I wanted so much more for you."

He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Jesus," she breathed. "Okay. Okay. I need to... I'll call you later. I'm not—I'm not in a good place to say anything else right now."

"Okay." He hesitated. "Mum?"

"What?"

"I really am sorry."

Silence.

Then, "I know, Osc. I know."

She hung up.

Oscar leaned his head against the wall, the guilt crawling under his skin like it belonged there.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and stared at the astroturf where the year eights were playing tackle rugby.

And he sat there until the next bell rung.

—

Harper sat on the cold stone steps just below the landing outside the girls dorm — the one spot on campus where phone reception was always strongest. Her knees were pulled to her chest, Oscar's racing hoodie baggy and warm on top of her school uniform. She'd been staring at her phone for ten minutes.

The screen glowed.

Mummy (Victoria)

She tapped the call icon before she could think too hard.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times—

"Harper?" Victoria Whiatt's voice was sharp, brisk. "It's a school night. Why are you calling?"

Harper's voice caught in her throat. She tried to swallow it back down. "I — Hi, Mum," she whispered. "Can you... would you be able to come to Haileybury, please?"

Silence.

"It's just that... I need you," she said, the words tumbling out. "Please. Mum—Mummy, please." She closed her eyes tightly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I need you to come. I'm scared and I don't know what to do."

"Harper," her mother said, voice clipped with impatience. "What's going on? Have you done something wrong? Are you in trouble? God, do I need to call my lawyers?"

Harper pressed the heel of her palm to her eye. She didn't want to say it like this. She'd planned to be calm. Clear. Strong. But now her whole body was shaking and she was begging her mother — calling her mummy out-loud for the first time since she was eight — and it had all turned into a big mess.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. But I need help. I don't know what to do, and I'm scared, and—"

"You're what?" Victoria's voice was suddenly thin. "God. Jesus fucking Christ. Harper Grace — tell me you're joking."

Harper's breath hitched. "I'm not. I just—Mum, please. Please come. I need my mum. I need you."

The silence was suffocating.

When her mother finally spoke, her voice was tight. Controlled. "How far along?"

"I don't know. A few weeks. The test said three plus. I need to see a doctor but—"

Her mother cut her off with a low curse. "Christ. You're fifteen. Fifteen, Harper. You're still a child!"

"I know," Harper said, her voice breaking. "And I promise that I didn't mean for this to happen. But it has and I know that I'm stupid and an idiot and all of the other horrible things you want to call me right now — but I'm scared and alone and I need you to help me, mum."

Her mother didn't respond right away. Harper could hear something rustling — maybe papers, or her mother's laptop.

"Mum?" She whispered.

"I'm in Milan," Victoria said stiffly. "I have a show tomorrow."

"I don't care about your show." Harper's voice rose, desperate. "Please. Please just come."

A long pause.

"I'll be on a flight tonight."

Harper let out a tiny breath, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Is it his? The kart boy? Is it his baby?" She asked.

Harper nodded. "Yeah. Yes. I — Yeah. It's his baby."

"Right then. I'll be there at seven a.m. tomorrow morning." Was all her mother said. And then she ended the call.

Harper curled tighter into the stairwell wall, phone still clutched in her hand.

And then the crying started — not the quiet, clenched kind she'd perfected over the years.

But loud, messy sobs that racked her chest and made her shoulders shake.

Jane found her less than a minute later.

She didn't ask questions. Just dropped to the step beside her, wrapped both arms around her like she could hold her together, and pressed her cheek to Harper's hair.

Harper sobbed into her shirt.

Five minutes later, Oscar rounded the corner in his uniform — blazer unbuttoned, tie crooked. He paused mid-step when he saw them. Just froze.

His breath caught.

Harper, curled in on herself like something broken. Jane holding her. The echo of her crying bouncing up the stone walls.

Oscar's stomach dropped.

"Shit," he whispered, voice barely audible.

Then he moved.

He jogged the last few steps, dropping to his knees on Harper's other side. His bag hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Hey, hey," he said gently, reaching for her, brushing her hair back. "I'm here."

Harper turned blindly into his chest without thinking, her sobs still shuddering through her.

Jane shifted, giving him space, her face tight with worry.

Oscar pulled Harper into his arms, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other steady at her spine. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't have to.

He just held her tighter.

"Love you," he whispered, barely more than a breath.

"Love you too." She hiccuped.

—

The classroom was cold despite the sunlight cutting across the desks in crooked lines. Harper sat with her arms folded over her notebook, pen resting in the crease of the spine. She wasn't writing. Just breathing.

Her eyes were still red and swollen.

Oscar slid into the seat beside her, spinning his pencil once before leaning close.

"You good?" He murmured.

She didn't look at him. "Not really."

He was quiet for a second, then said, in a low, overly serious voice, "The eagle is landing near the river tonight. Nest secured. Feathers ruffled, but holding."

Harper blinked at him. "What?"

"It's code," he said, a bit flustered. "My dad. Staying at the hotel near the river. He's had the heads up that he'll be meeting the Mothership tomorrow."

She winced. "Please don't call my mother that."

"Operation Parental Peace Summit is a go. He said he'll be there when she arrives. You, me, him, Queen Doom herself — roundtable discussions. Treaties. Diplomacy."

She gave a faint, exhausted laugh. "You're so ridiculous. I don't know what you're saying, Oscar."

"Code is effective," he whispered. Then he smiled at her, all teeth — and she realised that he was just messing around. Trying to make her smile.

It'd worked.

Harper hesitated, staring at the lined page in front of her. "I think..." she started. "I think the idea of not keeping — it — makes me feel worse than I thought it would."

Oscar's expression softened immediately, his eyebrows coming together. "Okay." He said quietly.

She kept her voice low. "I'm not saying I've decided. Just — I get this tight feeling in my chest when I imagine... not going through with it."

Oscar nodded slowly. "Okay."

Before either of them could say more, the teacher turned from the whiteboard.

"Mr. Piastri. Miss Whiatt. Something to share with the class?"

Oscar straightened, fake smile already in place. "Just discussing international conflict resolution, sir."

"Save it for Model UN." The teacher glared at them.

Harper hid a smile, ducking behind her hair. The teacher turned back to the board.

Oscar passed her a note under the desk.

I'm on your side whatever you decide.

Harper traced the edge of the paper with her thumb.

—

The next morning, Harper waited just outside the school reception, blazer buttoned unevenly and hands fidgeting with the hem of her pleated skirt. The courtyard was grey and thick was early morning mist, the kind that clung to skin and made her hair frizz no matter what she did to try and stop it.

She'd been up since five. Couldn't sleep. Could barely even manage the breakfast bar that Jane had shoved at her. She'd brushed her teeth twice and still felt sick.

Her fingers trembled as the black town car pulled up — sleek and silent.

The suit-clad driver stepped out and opened the back door.

Victoria Whiatt emerged like she was stepping onto a runway. Designer coat, dark glasses even in the morning haze, heels clicking across the old stone. She didn't look like she'd spent the night on a plane. She looked like she was ready for a press release.

Harper stood up straighter without meaning to.

Her mother's eyes scanned her. Once. Head to toe. "You look haggard."

"Hi, Mum," Harper said quietly.

Victoria took off her sunglasses slowly. "Is that really what they make you wear here? I don't remember it being so — juvenile."

Harper blinked.

"Your skirt is creased. And the buttons on that blazer — God, Harper, how hard is it to dress yourself like a normal, respectable person?"

"I—I didn't sleep much." She managed.

"I should think not." There was a long pause. Victoria looked around at the school buildings like they were beneath her. Then her eyes snapped back to Harper. "So." Her voice was sharp. "Where is he?"

Harper's fingers clenched around the strap of her bag. "He's with his dad. They're—waiting for us to go to meet them at the hotel he's staying at."

Another pause.

"I don't want a performance out of you," Victoria said coolly. "I don't want tears or sentiment. I want honesty. I want facts. And I want to know how you could possibly be this irresponsible!"

Harper flinched. But she nodded. "Yes, Mum."

"Fix your blazer," Victoria muttered, already turning away. "And get in the car. Which hotel?"

"The nice one. The one you stayed at when I first moved here," Harper said, forcing her voice to stay even.

Victoria exhaled slowly. "Of course. The one with the mediocre wine list and the doorman who talks too much."

She opened the passenger door with a perfectly manicured hand. Harper moved around to the other side, heart pounding against her ribs.

They sat in silence for a moment as the driver pulled away from the school gates.

"So, they've got money then?" Victoria asked, eyes still on the road ahead. Her voice was light, sharp as a needle. "That's nice. I'm sure it'll make this a lot easier."

Harper turned her head slowly, looked at her mother. The way her profile was all angles and detachment, like she was discussing stocks or seating charts — not the life growing inside her daughter.

"I want to keep the baby," Harper said.

The words landed like a brick dropped into a still pond. The ripple of them filled the car.

Victoria blinked.

Then blinked again.

Her head turned, slow and deliberate, until her eyes locked with Harper's. "What did you just say?"

Harper held her gaze. "I said I want to keep it. The baby."

Victoria stared at her like she was speaking another language. "You're fifteen."

"I know."

"You're going to ruin your life."

Harper's throat tightened, but she didn't look away. "Like I ruined yours?"

Victoria's lips parted, then closed. She looked out the window again, something flickering behind her eyes. "This isn't a dog, Harper," she said finally, voice thin and brittle. "You don't just get to decide that you’re going to keep it. You're still a child — you're not old enough to make that decision. God, imagine it, Harper Grace. Imagine what people would say? Your father's name—"

Harper swallowed, hard. "Dad would've understood. He would've hugged me. Told me he loved me. He might've been disappointed — but he wouldn't have treated me like you are right now."

Victoria's jaw tensed. Her fingers curled against her lap, white-knuckled. "You don't get to invoke him," she said, low and venomous. "Not when you've made a circus out of everything he built for you."

Tears burned the corners of Harper's eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "I'm not trying to hurt you, mum," she whispered. "I'm just trying to do what feels right in my gut. For me. For Oscar. His dad—"

"Oh, wonderful," Victoria snapped. "The 'pit crew' is standing by." She made physical quotations around the words.

Harper flinched again. Looked down at her hands. "Please, Mum. Please don't shut me down like that. I'm scared, alright? I know that this was my fault, mine and Oscar's. But we've talked, okay? We've talked about it, about keeping it or not. And we — we both agree that it feels right to keep it."

Victoria was silent.

Then she sighed, the long, tired kind that Harper remembered from fittings and fundraisers and end-of-term reports that were anything but a 99 or above.

"I'm not shutting you down. I'm here, aren't I?" She bit out. "God knows why I even bothered. We could've done this over the phone."

Harper knew that was the closest thing to an "I love you" that she was going to get.

NEXT CHAPTER

[webslinger-holland]

HAIIII, I LOVE your work 🤭 and I have a request for thunderbolts (only if you want to ofc!), on how they would react to you wearing a dress/suit 😌 (if you haven't done this before 🥲)

Prompt: The Thunderbolts react to you wearing a dress for a gala

Warning: none really, just lots of fluff, mutual pining, self-image issues

Yelena: Standing in front of the mirror, the emerald green dress hugged your figure tightly. It flowed with a graceful elegance, the fabric gleaming like pure silk. You adjusted the thin strap over your shoulder, trying to summon the confidence you’d need to pull the outfit off.

You smoothed your hands down your frontside, wondering if that would help in any way. You turned ever so slightly to see if from another angle.

Sighing in defeat, you adjusted the strap again, even though it hadn’t moved. The dress clung to every line of you, and the silky sheen made it feel louder than anything you’d ever worn. It was too much, too bold. For you at least.

The sound of the door creaking open behind you made your breath hitch.

“Oh wow.”

You turned in a panic. “What? What’s wrong?”

In the doorway, Yelena stood in a deep green trench coat of her own, holding the doorknob in place. Her hair was styled for the gala and her makeup was done to perfection just like it always was. She couldn't think of words, just blinked.

"Yelena," you started, flustered and immediately crossing your arms to cover the dip of the neckline. "I don't think I can pull this off—"

"Stop,” Yelena cut in, putting a hand up. She came further into the room. “Don’t do that thing where you talk like you’re already apologizing."

“I just… I don’t know if I can actually wear this,” you admitted. “It doesn’t feel like me. It’s too tight and too shiny and—”

“It’s perfect,” Yelena said, firmly.

You looked up at her. “You think so?”

She smirked, but it wasn’t teasing. It was quiet and sincere. “If I looked like that, I’d have made the rest of the team wait an extra hour just to keep staring at myself in the mirror.”

That pulled a startled laugh from you, and Yelena took another step forward. She reached out, lightly adjusting the strap you’d been fiddling with. Her fingers brushed your shoulder; it was warm and confident.

You looked down again, flustered—but she caught your chin with two fingers and tilted it back up.

“Hey,” Yelena murmured. “You’re going to walk into that gala like the room belongs to you. And if it doesn’t? We’ll make it.”

You smiled slow, still shy, but a little stronger now.

And when she let her hand drop, she added, “Besides, if anyone stares too long, I get to break their nose. That’ll be fun.”

That made you laugh, the nerves melting just a little more.

“Now,” Yelena said, offering you her arm like it was the most casual thing in the world, “Come on. I’ll be your terrifying arm candy tonight.”

You hesitated for a second and then slid your hand into hers.

Bucky: Beside the elevator that would take you down to the lobby, you were frantically fidgeting with the side of your dress. You tried to fluff the sleeves, not liking the way they lay against your bare arms.

Nothing looked right to you. The mirror by the elevator wasn’t helping. It just confirmed your suspicions: that the color was maybe too bold, the neckline dipped too low, and...

“Hey—” Bucky’s voice was came out low from behind you. You spun around on your heels sharply and saw that he was on the phone. "Let me call you back."

Hanging up the phone and shoving it into his suit pocket, Bucky kept his eyes trained on you and the dress. He took a couple of slow strides toward you, that unreadable expression on his face. You avoided his stare, trying to shrink into yourself.

You glanced down at the dress. “I know, it's way too—”

“Don’t change a damn thing,” Bucky said firmly before you could finish. His blue eyes swept over you like he was trying to memorize every detail. His lips curved into a soft smile. “You’re gonna break every mirror in this place.”

You looked away, flustered. “It’s just a dress.”

He tilted his head to catch your eyes. “No. It’s you in that dress. You’re looking at yourself like you’re not sure… but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen anything like you.”

You tried to hide your smile, but Bucky stepped in a little closer. His metal hand reached out to hover just by your arm like maybe he was afraid to touch you. His voice softened.

"You're beautiful," Bucky confessed, only sincerity shining in his eyes.

"Really?" You asked.

He smiled again. "I’ve been alive long enough to know when something’s unforgettable.”

John: Near the end of the corridor, just outside the gala doors, you were pacing nervously and trying to talk some sense into yourself. You hadn’t even realized John was coming around the corner until he saw you and stopped mid-step.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, eyes dragging down your form and back up. “Are you trying to end people tonight?”

You flushed, immediately glancing away. “Don’t be dramatic, it’s not even that—”

“I’m not being dramatic, sweetheart,” John interrupted, stepping closer to you. “You walk into that room like this, no one’s gonna see anything else. You’ve got that kind of presence. Like a damn firecracker in a room full of matches.”

He paused, letting his eyes linger—not in a leering way, but like he was studying something beautiful and dangerous, something you didn’t even know you were.

You gave a nervous little laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

John’s expression shifted, some of the cocky charm giving way to something gentler. “Then tell me what is.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He softened even more, the quiet sincerity in his eyes disarming. “How can I make this comfortable for you? Just say the word.”

Your heart caught in your throat. You weren’t used to this version of him that was stripped down, patient with you, and sounding genuine. He wasn't teasing; there was no hidden motive. Just him offering something safe. For you.

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice small.

He nodded once, like he understood. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now. Just... stay close. I’ll be right here.”

You looked up at him again, and this time, it felt easier to hold his gaze.

“You really know how to mess with my head, John.” You felt yourself confess.

He chuckled softly, stepping back just enough to offer his arm. “Then let me balance it out. Walk in with me. I’ll take the heat for you.”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Then you slid your hand into the crook of his arm, and just like that, the nerves began to settle.

“Let’s burn the place down then,” you said with a grin.

John grinned back. “Now that’s the spirit.”

Ava: It was the night of the gala. Everyone was off getting ready for the evening. The dress was absolutely everything: beautiful, elegant, dramatic. There was only one big problem with the dress...it was white.

"Why did I pick white?" You asked yourself, presented in front of your mirror. "I should have picked a more subtle color. White just screams look at me."

“I am looking at you,” comes Ava’s voice from behind. It caught you off guard.

You turned quickly, startled, your hand flying to your chest. “God, Ava—how do you move so quietly?”

She raised an eyebrow, stepping into the room like a whisper herself. “Maybe you’re just too distracted to notice.”

You swallow. She wasn’t wrong. She looked incredible—sharp black suit tailored to her frame, dark lipstick, hair swept up like she hadn’t tried but somehow nailed effortless power. You try to say something, anything, but your thoughts scatter the second she really looks at you.

Her eyes drag slowly from your neckline down to the hem of your dress and back again, and when they meet yours, they don’t waver. “You look…” she exhales slowly, like the word had to be searched for. “Wonderful.”

You shift on your feet, suddenly self-conscious. “But it's the color that's thrown me off. What am I? A bride or something?"

Ava reaches out gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. Her fingertips barely graze your skin, but the contact sends a warm jolt through you.

“Let me make it clearer, then,” Ava says. “If it were up to me, you’d wear white every day. Just so I’d have an excuse to keep looking at you.”

You stare at her, heat blooming in your chest. You feel a bit of your confidence come back. She lets the silence stretch just enough to leave your heart racing, then adds with a soft smile.

“But I guess I’ll have to settle for tonight.”

Bob: It was all wrong. You'd fussed and fiddled with the ruffles around the top of your dress for what felt like hours. The dress itself shoved too much skin, too much cleavage, too much everything. You'd already done your hair and makeup, but it didn't matter anymore because you were about to have tears ruin the whole look.

On the balcony, the cold air felt refreshing and much needed. You let the tears glide down the sides of your cheeks, ignoring the fact that it was probably ruining the shimmer of gold you added on your cheekbones.

You didn’t realize anyone had come into the quiet lounge until you heard a soft, almost hesitant voice behind you.

“Is it… okay to say something?”

You turned sharply to face him. He stood in the middle of the room, looking like he didn't know what to do with himself. His bright eyes stared at you like you'd managed to take his breath away, which in a way, you certainly did.

Despite the redness in your eyes from crying, Bob still thought you looked like the most beautiful thing in the world. He wet his lips.

"You're...glowing," Bob breathed.

“I don’t feel like I’m glowing," your voice cracked from the tears. You went to enter the room with ever intention of brushing past him. "It all feels wrong—"

Bob’s hand shot out, gently catching your arms before you could slip away. His touch was warm and steady.

“No,” he said softly but firmly. “Don’t walk away. Not when you look like this.”

You looked up, meeting his steady gaze. You ended up lowering yourself to perch on the edge of the bed. He mirrored your actions by kneeling down in front of you, always keeping your hands in his.

“Maybe you don’t see it right now,” Bob continued, wanting nothing more than to brush those tears away himself. “but that gold on your skin—it’s like you’re lit from within. Like you’re a fire someone forgot to put out.”

You swallowed hard, the tight knot in your chest loosening just a bit.

Bob’s thumb brushed lightly over your wrist, sending a quiet promise through you. You stared down at your hands.

“Trust me when I say, you’re the brightest thing in this room tonight. And maybe… the only one worth looking at.”

[creganslover]

I think it would be cool if you did a cregan x reader but reader has a dragon and her dragon is called the beast of winterfell or something like that and for the longest time even the people of winterfell have no idea what it means (they assume because of her family they are just referring to her) but while she’s giving birth or something the dragon hears and feels her pain and come out of hiding freaking out and finds her and like puts his snout up to the window to make sure she’s okay and it’s kinda like a crazy moment for the people of winterfell lol just a random idea I had hope you like it feel free to change any details about it

ofc! thank you for requesting, anon! i really hope you'll like it! i apologize if its not that great T^T

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

beast of winterfell, cregan stark x targ! fem! reader

wc: 1.4k

warning/s: mentions of blood, childbirth, lmk if i missed anything!

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

Ever since you had been arranged to Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North, you knew you were about to live a completely different life as you were expected to live with him in Winterfell for the rest of your days. 

It had taken a while for you to get used to being so far from the West and your family, yet Cregan’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, albeit cold, really cold. 

The lighter clothes you used to wear back in Dragonstone now replaced with heavy furs, you could have sworn if you had listened closely you would hear your back crying in protest. 

Alas you carried yourself with grace, it helped that Cregan had understood where you had come from and he always made sure the fireplace in your shared chambers had been extra warm, even if he had to get the firewood by himself. 

One thing you had also missed in the West was being able to go on dragonback without feeling that you were about to freeze at any given moment.

Your dragon, Rhaegos or commonly known as the Red Beast, could not stand to be far from you either, even willing to visit from time to time due to his own stubbornness that reflected your own. Making himself a home far enough from Winterfell within a clearing in a forest, you think, he had been able to live and feed himself, keeping warm with his flames. 

The folks of Winterfell had not even seen a dragon before, you’d wager, and you intend to keep it that way as they would not need to worry of such a magnificent beast nestled near their home, if they had only known. 

Cregan had also known of Rhaegos, he very well knew the creature as the first ever day Cregan had seen you was you landing on your dragon onto the sands of Dragonstone, he was about to depart then, yet you made him stop in his tracks as the Red Beast had made its appearance.

And you noticed him upon your landing, the ship in the distance carrying the banner of House Stark, which you have soon learned who was going to be your betrothed. 

Rhaegos did not take kindly to strangers nearing you but you just had to see who the ship carried, if it included your soon to be husband. 

And when you hopped off your dragon and had reached him, Rhaegos was watching carefully, even crawling himself a yard behind you, though Cregan did not seem to waver, or was trying his best to keep his composure as a dragon was barely in the North and the way its eyes gleamed at him, had him gripping a little tighter on his gloves. 

To your surprise, Rhaegos had nudged its snout against your back, almost shoving you to Cregan that had sent both your cheeks running hot as he caught you in his arms.

It seemed Rhaegos wanted to play cupid at that moment as you profusely apologized to the Lord of Winterfell.

The marriage came and went, devotion had come easy with you and Cregan, no sooner than a moon after your bedding that you had noticed the changes in your body.

It only took a look for the maester to confirm it. You were with child. 

Cregan was absolutely delighted, he could not stop showering you with affection within the confines of your chambers, his big rough hands gently upon your stomach.

There were barely any signs of growth yet making you laugh. It was your first time pregnant, and of course you’ve seen and heard your mother Rhaenyra teach you a thing or two about it, yet it had always worried you as you saw how it could take a toll upon a woman’s body, like with your mother.

Cregan swore no harm will come upon you and your child as you carry it through the moons, always placing his most skilled men out your chambers if he ever was required someplace else than at Winterfell. 

And when he would return, he would not even mind the cheers of his folk, going directly straight to you, enveloping you in a careful embrace, before he would kneel to press his forehead against your swollen middle, the baby within you kicking in response.

The days had inched closer to your due, and you had felt it with the way your body had increasingly been feeling heavy, the way you waddled while you walked. 

Your scream had broken out the great keep of Winterfell as the moment had finally come when their lady was about to give birth. Your handmaidens paced around you in worry, the maester advising you on what you should do- yet it all seemed to drown out by the time it reached your ears.

Blood began to trickle down your legs as your handmaidens rush you to lay upon the bed, you were restless as your body had been covered in sweat, platinum hair matting to your face as you cried out for Cregan, the maester informing you he was well on his way. 

Your breathing came in rushed, panting as your eyes blinked back tears as you were positioned necessarily for birth. Your muscles had contracted painfully, sending you with another wail. 

Though on this day, not only your childbirth would be borne by Winterfell. 

After your long cry, an unfamiliar loud screeching could be heard in the distance, making every folk in Winterfell pause in their actions. Could it be…?

“Dragon!” A knight exclaimed as people began to panic and rush around. 

Cregan was on his way back to Winterfell speeding on his mount after having visited the Hornswood, but he was not alone. To the West of him was undoubtedly a creature he had not seen a long time, your dragon, Rhaegos. 

His screeching may as well echo throughout the North as the dragon flew itself close to Winterfell. Its intimidating and thunderous roars caused worry for Cregan’s folk as he finally managed to rush inside, dismounting off his horse and quickly telling his people to calm- that the dragon would not dare harm them, that it was yours. 

Cregan then rushed towards the great keep, where your screams and wails grew louder, tearing his own heart as he finally shoves himself in the birthing chambers. 

“Cregan!” You cried as he came into view, rushing beside you as the maester had told you to push for the nth time. You wasted no time bearing a deathly grasp upon his hand, knuckles turning white. 

The gap on the windows was then darkened by a shadow followed by a low rumble, the maidens in the room, even the maester was disturbed at the sight of a dragon’s nout, moving outside as its eyes tried to spot you. 

“Calm down, it means you no harm.” Cregan said firmly. “My wife is the priority.” He commanded, glaring daggers at those within the room. 

Your chest heaved up and down as you could feel Rhaegos’ bond clearly with you as your eyes found his slit ones through the window. “Rāpirī (Be calm) Rhaegos!” You managed to say out loud, the dragon grumbling weakly in turn as it hissed at the maester, who quickly got back to his occupation. 

With one last push, you had felt it– the pain had numbed most half of your body, making you try and chase your breath, Cregan’s gaze flickering to you and the maester, with Rhaegos present out the window, his low grumbling ever a presence to your strength. 

All your body seemed to be in a haze, unable to move your legs- or the whole of your body for that fact.

Until a cry of the babe was heard, Cregan’s heart thumping in his chest as he looked at you and the babe being wrapped in the towel.

“You did it, oh thank the Old Gods.” Cregan murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead before his pressed against yours. “It is a girl, my lord, my lady.” The maester announced as the bundle of joy was placed into your arms. 

“Our- our own little girl…” You croaked out, a grin breaking through your face as tears of joy pricked your eyes, Cregan looking at the babe wriggling and making his heart near to bursting. “She’s a beauty like you.” He murmured.

Rhaegos outside began whirring as he seemed to be feeling your joy coursing through your bond, taking himself to the skies screeching happily, making you laugh weakly. 

Cregan then nuzzled both you and the babe, with Rhaegos’ sounds echoing above. 

Your children would need not worry for a protector, when they’ve got the beast and the wolf of Winterfell by their side. 

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

cregan tag-list: @misswynters @i-padfootblack-things

[sirazaroff]

Lil question(that you don’t have to answer) but what did morrible do to Glinda?(with your head canons ofc)

Hmm, what didn’t Morrible do?~

I’m still trying to work out the details of this but…

Short Answer: she fucks that girltwink up.

Long Answer:

At Shiz, Morrible was working hard to build Elphaba up so that she would go along with her hidden agenda, and it was working very effectively too.

Then things changed and now Morrible has Glinda to train instead. The nurturing and encouragement Elphaba received? That’s not needed here, no. What Morrible attempts to do to Glinda is break her, because someone that high up will only listen if they’re ‘humbled’.

So her plan goes as follows:

1. WITHER:

Morrible only has one agenda in mind for Glinda. She needs to break everything about that woman, and break she does. It’s not just mentally and emotionally, it’s physically as well with long days spent practicing sorcery. Every failed spell is swiftly dealt with until Glinda is left with battered hands and frustration welling behind her eyes. Weeks and weeks of this eventually numb her to any comforts of this new life.

2. FEAR:

Because she’s the beloved Good Witch, Glinda feels a sense of value. That she can eventually be irreplaceable and in turn, protected. Morrible works very hard to let her know that with every waking moment they spend together is but a living nightmare for the Upland woman. A lesson turns into a deliberate assault with no one around to bear witness, nor anyone to care to investigate the screams that echo in the hallways. The Wizard needs Glinda alive, not well.

3. SNAP:

Years and years of this and Glinda never fully relent, testing Morrible’s patience of all things. As long as Elphaba is out there, Glinda holds out hope. By now the sight of Glinda will set Morrible off and in one occurrence she doesn’t realize her emotions have caused a storm to brew outside, a single bolt of lighting breaking through the windows to strike Glinda. She survives, the Wizard is very inconvenienced, and Morrible decides to simply just keep her distance from the Good Witch from then on.

Glinda gets the last laugh in the end. The Wizard is gone and Morrible tries to have Glinda executed in an attempt to grab power before she could. She learns far too late what Glinda shares with the Wizard; popularity. The people rebel and Morrible’s reign ends as quickly as it starts, left to rot in the dungeons of the palace while Glinda becomes the new ruler.

——————

As my favorite tag ever once said: Madame Morrible is never seeing heaven :)

Hopefully this made sense. I didn’t trust my words so I made some pictures to go with it. Anyways ask me about my scarecrow au.

[miifu666]

I finally drew LMK wukong... while also making him yandere because uh.. i like yanderes, we need more yan!Wukong content pls 🙏🥹 anyway Heres my rendition of what yandere lmk sun wukong would be like.. maybe ooc, ive only watched season 1...

Also not proofread— At ALL

⋆˙⟡ — Cw : Yandere, Dub-con, ooc lmk Wukong?, art is wukong x oc but writing is Wukong x reader, not proofread.

I imagine Yan!Wukong to be the type who taunts you about his past actions, how feral and rebellious he was, able to defeat the entire heavenly army and scared the Jade emperor out of his wits just for existing in flower fruit mountain. This only happens when you disobey him ofc, you left the cabin? Denied his wants to feed you himself? Maybe its time to remind you who he is

" See how i was back then? I was a Savage, untamed even if i had that stupid crown around my head. You wouldn't want me to be like that now do you, Peaches? "

He's a sweetheart, Patience and Virtue is a thing he learned the most during his years of living. Yet, unpredictability is also his nature. Especially as a monkey king. There are times when he would tolerate you acting bratty, a bit Defiant is all fun, but when the day comes where he's fought too many Yaoguais, Demons, and Alike. All he wants is your comforting touch soothing him of his worries. The last thing he needs is your uncooperative attitude.

" Peaches... im not in the mood for this. Eat the food. Now. Ive been kind to you. It's either you eat the food or ill get rough."

Wukong is canonically someone who hasnt experienced any romantic nor sexual attraction, the moment he does. He doesn't have a clue on what to do. All he can think of is being in his monkey nature, which includes being possessive, territorial, dominating, and providing you with nutrients. He doesn't trust others enough to help him with his feelings, barely have the guts to ask Bajie if you're in a bad mood. He prefers to wait for others to give him advice (not that he'll take to account).

"MK doesn't know anything, he's a kid! He doesn't understand love like i do... like us adults do. Im doing this to PROTECT you, peaches!"

There might be times where he'll be more touchy than usual, conditioning you to feel comfort and used to his physical affection. Wukong is nothing but patient, he knows how to pavlov you into feeling relaxed once you feel his hands. You'll notice his punishments ranged from letting him groom you, mark you and finally letting him eat you out.

The euphoric bliss whenever he touches you or caught a whiff of your scent is tantalizing, Due to this, he prefers to be the one to serve you rather than you serving him. A king needs his Queen to bleed his heart into, not a concubine who perfoms.

" ah, ah ah~ Remember what i said? You either let me groom your pretty head or i might change things up a little..."

Wukong who gloats about the ring around your finger, making sure everyone. Even the heavens. Know, who you belong to. Theres no such thing as divine intervention, HE willed this fate, HE knit the red threads of fate till it spells your name. Theres an endless amount of love flowing through his heart for you, it seeps through timelines and past reincarnations. Even if your current life is done in this world, he'll continue on finding you. Binding you with him, gripping your heart so close till it beats in harmony with his. He'll make sure to leave an imprint of himself in your soul, even your future consorts needs to know him in order to understand you.

While you came from another world, your own destiny is temporary in his. Wukong will fight tooth and nails to defy the stars just to have you as his permanently. He'll create his own thread. His own happy ending with you.

And if theres anyone who dares to leak the rough details about your hostage love life... hes not known as the god of trickster for nothing

" if the moon and stars are reflection of the past, would they know how many lifetimes have i been loving you before our souls reconciled in this one?

Because i couldn't possibly have just learned to love you this much, all in this single lifetime"

Artwork ©️ Miifu666

Writings ©️ Miifu666

[yushi-ni]

ෆ YUSHI ෆ 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝖺𝖻𝖼

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist

summary; yushi nsfw alphabet

genre; suggestive

warnings; 18+!!!! mentions of; multiple sources of mature adult card games. smut content obviously, kinks

notes; hi babes, here’s the first part of my nsfw abc’s. i’m a little unsure what to think of this and i didn’t know how far and how uhhh detailed i wanted to get into it so i hope this will do for now, i tried hahahaha i hope you like it!!! lmk what you think and as always any form of interaction - feedback is appreciated!!!

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

A = aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

one thing about yushi is that he’s the most sweetest and loving person ever. trust he will coo you afterwards. he is shy in general so he might not be very talkative afterwards (depends on the day tbh) , since the moment itself is quite uhhh intimate (you’d say no?) but he’ll be so giggly and cute. will cuddle you and just stick to you. definitely helps you clean you up (in between giggles) and himself ofc

B = body part (his fav body part of himself and yours)

he likes your hands (not in a weird way) they’re just soft and small (compared to his) he’s always fidgeting with your hands - fingers. definitely holds your hands during the deed (in missionary) locking your fingers together, also loves the way your hands feel on him. in any way or touch hehe. on him, he’s pretty confident about his physique in general but i just know he’s proud of his upper body. not too packed but definitely lean and toned

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

not a big fan of a messy party. will probably stick to condoms or cums in your mouth (when receiving) just doesn’t want to clean too much afterwards. rather lays down than having to change the sheets (valid tho)

D = dirty secret (yes.)

this man is on all fours when it comes to dirty talk. (i said what i said) definitely a sub and secretly (not so secretly) LOVES when you take control. yes he sure as hell has his moments too but as soon as he notices that you’re going for the remote control he’s all yours. this + your bold words???? he’s cumming in his pants. (excuse my language)

E = experience (how experienced is he?)

definitely has some experience but he’s not on top of the rankings yk? he’s not a casual player and it also requires some trust and respect from both teams for him to dive in the sheets. he knows what he’s doing but also doesn’t mind a more experienced gf who can lead and show him the ins and outs a little more

F = fav position (self explanatory hihi)

missionary for sure. for multiple reasons; the intimacy is so important and good for him, he can look you in the eyes (HUGE on eye contact) he can hold your hand, which adds to a somewhat emotional connection too and he just loves seeing your facial expressions. so he’s definitely a fan of missionary or some variation; throw your legs up girl. he loooooves it all.

G = goofy and giggles (is he serious or goofy)

mmh i don’t think he’s goofy as in full on laughter being shared. definitely giggles whenever you try something new and he’s a little unsure or just overwhelmed by a new rush of feelings - emotions but that’s it. he’s more of a serious; eye contact, sweet and loving guy.

H = hair (how does it look downstairs?)

keeps it nice and clean. nothing much to say, he just prefers it that way himself

I = intimacy (how intimate is he during the game)

in a long-term relationship he’ll definitely become more and more serious and romantic. he views sex as something special between the two of you so he’s really into the whole connected and closeness of the act. like i said; lots of eye contact, sweet words etc etc. also has his less ‘romantic’ moments ofc where he just needs you, without the whole shakespear quotes and bullshit. overall his intimacy levels are off the charts.

J = jack off (his 1-1 playtime with his lil friend)

mwehh not necessarily a big fan of having to do his own self care. definitely prefers your hands over his. but sometimes gravity calls when you’re not around so if he’s really in need of a good scratch he’ll take amends with his own hands.

K = kink (no need for further explanation)

choking 1000%. on you, on him, whatever! also goes wild whenever you pull his hair.

L = location (his fav places to play card games)

at home. simple and easy. more than anything it’s the most comfortable place but also it doesn’t limit his actions and needs. definitely prefers an empty home without any witnesses but as long as there’s a door that can be locked, he’s in and ready to go.

M = motivation (what turns him on?)

nothing specific tbh. you, simply you being you turns him on. doesn’t need a lot of convincing to get him going, the thought of your pleasure, and his own ofc, are enough. but for some reason, he’s not one to shy away from a little public - sneaky teasing. not publicly as in; right in the middle of burger king but in a setting with others around like your friends etc. not being able to immediately get down to business turns him on for sure

N = no no no (something he wouldn’t do - turn offs)

absolutely not into pain and other things that might come off the wrong way in some settings. will try any type of twister position you want, for all he cares will even wear bunny ears if that’s a new thing you want to try out but never in a million years will he ever slap or spank or do anything that could actually hurt you

O = oral (is he a receiver or giver)

not necessarily unskilled nor unwilling (hehe) might need a little help with giving head the first few times, not because he’s unsure what to do but because he wants to know what you like. very quick learner tho!!!! your reactions and sounds are his biggest motivation. rather slow and sensual than a messy eater. receiving on the other hand? yes. when? yes. how? yes. now? double yes. definitely vocal when you’re getting down to business. head thrown back, hand in your hair, your name leaving his lips in soft moans?? yup yup yup

P = pace (fast? - slow? - rough?)

mmmh depends on the day. not necessarily into rough play but also not one to rule out a little ‘challenge’. likes to take it slow and more vanilla whenever you have the whole night to enjoy each other, but also doesn’t mind a more fast and easy face off whenever you have places to be

Q = quickie (his view on quickies)

not the biggest fan, but every now and then he’ll take what he can get. quick fix’s are usually a morning thing. besides that he has enough self control to keep it in his pants until he can actually get you down town later that day

R = risk (does he take risks??)

not a huge risk taker, buttttt there’s a little voice in his head telling him otherwise. won’t necessarily take it upon himself to experiment wild things since he’s more of a follower of yours, if you get what i mean. honestly down to try anything at any time as long as you’re comfortable with it. whatever works for you as long as it’s you either under or on top of him (hehe)

S = stamina (how many rounds etc how long)

no lack of stamina (cmon he’s a dancer) but not necessarily one to go on for hours and hours and round after round. but your pleasure = his pleasure so even though he’s tapped out, let the guy breathe for a bit and he might still be down for another one. but usually one or two rounds is ok for him

T = toys (is he team yes or no)

doesn’t have a collection in his bedroom or whatever but he’s down to try them. more likely to enjoy toys on you rather than male receiving ones. if you’re into toys and want to try something, lead the way and the man follows like a puppy

U = unfair (is he into teasing?)

ok hear me out. he’s a tease (cmon he’s always onto whatever mischievous thing he’s doing when it comes to playing with his members) so i can definitely see him testing the waters BEFORE the actual act. so like, teasing you with lingering touches, wandering hands etc etc to get you in the mood too. especially whenever you’re accompanied by sion - riku or some of your friends. such a sweet little guy but he knows what he’s doing, will keep a straight face and smile to the others tho while getting you worked up, sneakily (or maybe not that sneaky and unnoticed sometimes uhhh)

V = volume (is he vocal or quiet)

not loud loud but definitely vocal tho. whimpers??? yes, he can’t even control it. won’t be screaming your name but you’ll definitely hear him. he’s a soft moaner for sure. for you tho, he loves hearing you. in all possible ways, let him know how good he makes you feel. it drives him crazy fr

W = wild card (random thought)

he can get jealous. and jealousy might cause a little bit of a stir in his usual manner (not that you mind, not at all) he’s not a rough player but if he’s feeling a little green with envy you’ll definitely be able to tell. won’t hurt you but also doesn’t really care for whatever you have to say in the moment. lowkey wants to prove his point and then he’s ok again

X = x-ray (what does his lil friend look like?)

knows how to use what he’s got (on you) but not packed up with a whole trunk. not an intimidating sight but honestly a perfect fit. nothing to complain about, he’s good sized

Y = yearning (how high is his sex drive)

might limit himself (and you) to places where he wants to play twister but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it all the time. he has really strong self control so he might not initiate it as much as you, he wants to but he can definitely keep it on the low if he feels like it’s not the right time but let him know you’re in race mode and he’s ready to go too. trust

Z = zzz (does he fall asleep afterwards)

doesn’t log out immediately, loves the intimacy during the after scene too. won’t go on a full rant and conversation about big world events but definitely loves some pillow talk. he’s a cuddly guy so wants to keep and feel you close as long as possible. always down for a shower afterwards, ok i lied maybe not always since he’s too tired out but if you really want to he will join ofc. big spoon - small spoon. you call it, he’s happy and content as long as he’s with you

[yoiisa]

HEEELLAURRR

can I request headcanon bllk boys anyone of your choice including sae 🙏🏻 with wifey reader during post pantrum depression since no one writes about it 😔 and it’s the boys just helping her out here and there??

ofc!!, I’ll do sae, bachira, isagi, and kunigami

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: TW for depression, anxiety, self-loathing language, and feelings of inadequacy. Reader is struggling w depression in this fic, so proceed with caution for sure! major angst (argument between couple in Isagi's) with tiny doses of fluff throughout, hurt with only a tiny bit of comfort (except for kuni and maybe isagi)

if you ever find yourself struggling with ppd please call 1-800-944-4773 or visit postpartum.net i have so much respect for mothers out there, but please remember that the best mothers take care of themselves as well as their babies!! you got this babe, and with that let's get on to the fic

➜ at first, having a baby with sae itoshi was fine. everything was going smoothly- well, as smoothly as having a newborn could ➜ still, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that festered in you. it was dark and cold and rose like bile in your throat that you had to swallow down ➜ the monotony of every day settling in on you was only feeding the dread inside of you. waking at the ass crack of dawn for a diaper change or to feed, and then running around all day caring for your daughter's every whim and desire ➜ sae helped where he could, but obviously there were some tasks only you could accomplish, and it was driving you to a brink ➜ eventually, he had to leave to go to Spain for some work, and you swore up and down that you could handle him being gone for a couple weeks. he was reluctant to leave you alone, but duty called after all, so he left ➜ and suddenly, that darkness consumed all of you and it was too much. you just . . . snapped

Sae knew leaving you alone was a bad idea. He'd seen the ways you'd been tiring yourself out, running after Yuki, and without him around, he worried seriously for your health. Nonetheless, you'd insisted that he go to Spain for his work, instead of just trying to handle it all from Japan itself. "I'll be fine, you don't need to worry," you insist, you're head on his chest. "She's been at home for 4 months now, I've gotten our routine down to a science by now." Sae played with your hair, twirling the locks around his fingers as he hummed, "Okay. I'll go then." As he was leaving, he made sure you promised him that if anything happened, anything at all, that you would immediately call him and tell him. You'd just waved him off, which did absolutely nothing to quell the dread in his stomach about leaving. He knows you don't notice how attentive he really is to you, but he notices everything about you. He worships the smallest details that make you who you are, that make you his wife. With that in mind, it's so incredibly frustrating when you think he doesn't notice how your smile doesn't reach your eyes anymore, or how your skin has become dry because you haven't been drinking enough water. It's 2:41 A.M. when he gets the call. It's been a week since he'd left for Spain. He peels his mask off and blinks blearily at his phone, which vibrates along his hotel's night stand. It should be around 9 where you are right now, which is pretty early for you to be calling him . . . unless something happened. Sae instantly sits up alert, his heart racing as he answers and puts his phone to his ear, "Hello? Y/N, what's wrong?" You're silent for a moment, which allows him to hear Yuki screaming her lungs out in the background of the call. Finally, you croak, "Help. Please, she won't stop crying. She's been up since 1 in the morning, and I . . . I don't know what to do." Sae's breath hitches. "I'm coming home." He can tell the guilt is eating you alive as you whisper his name, but he doesn't care. He cuts off any protests you might have with a, "My girls need me. I'm coming home. I'll get on the next available flight. I'll see you soon. I love you." His heart shatters as you don't return the affection, instead just sobbing into the microphone, "I'm sorry."

➜ part of the reason bachira meguru fell for you was because of your smile ➜ you exuded happiness and joy with every step you took and he was drawn to that aura like a moth to a flame ➜ but after having your baby, bachira noticed that the glow you had once was drained from you like a sponge. you traded in your glowing eyes for dark circles and your frown seemed perpetual ➜ worse yet, he noticed how rarely you smiled at your son ➜ at the beginning, when things weren't as bad, you would offer up the occasionally tiny smile, but you'd become so distant from the boy as of late. you'd become distant from him as well ➜ and he hates it. he did what he could to try and pull you back to his side, to get him to tell him what's wrong, but nothing was working, and it was starting to make him feel in over his head as well ➜ he cracks eventually and calls his mom, completely lost on how to help you navigate your depression

It all happens in a blur. One minute, Bachira is walking into your son's nursery to put some laundry away and the next minute, his entire world tilts as you whisper, "I don't love him." You're standing over Kaede's crib, just staring down at the little swaddled thing. Your husband is at your side in an instant, his hands squeezing your arms as he's begging for an explanation. You practically fall into his chest, your legs weak as you fall to the floor. You're not crying or anything, it's like your body's too weak for even that. All you can manage is the quietest, "I don't . . . feel how I'm supposed to when I look at him. I don't know what's happening." Bachira and you stay curled up together on the floor for a while, until Kaede starts crying. You tense in his arms as the shrill sound pierces your ears. Bachira shoots up from the floor and tends to your son, leaving you lying there as helplessness washes over him. Once you've gone to bed later that night, he instantly is on the phone with his mom. "I don't know, is something wrong with her? Should I be scared for Kaede? I don't want him to get hurt," Bachira sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I don't think Y/N will hurt him," Yu sighs on the other end of the line. "She's probably just overwhelmed right now. A lot of women go through this when they first have their kids. We get told a lot that motherhood is this wonderful thing, but a lot of times, the amount of work it takes is exhausting and is completely glossed over. The stress of it all can cause new moms to get really bad depression. It can make you want to give up on everything sometimes." Bachira bites at the skin around his nails before asking meekly, "Did you want to give up on me?" "No," Yu replies fondly, recalling the days of Bachira's infancy. "Believe it or not, you weren't a fussy baby at all. It made being a single mother easier at first, but when you got older, well, you know." Bachira nods as Yu continues, "Why don't I come over for the next week or so? I can help Y/N take care of Kaede, and the two of you can also get some alone time, if I take Kaede off your hands for a while." "Seriously? You don't mind?" Yu shakes her head, her smile widening. "It'd be my pleasure. I'll also talk with Y/N as well. Hopefully she'll feel a bit better. I knew someone who had post partum depression . . . I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

➜ isagi yoichi hates feeling powerless more than anything in the world ➜ it's part of the reason he was able to adapt so well in the world of soccer after all. he encounters all kinds of players on the field, and he needs to be flexible with himself in order to make sure he doesn't sink underneath all the talent ➜ but babies are different. they don't operate on logic or patterns or anything like that. they feel everything in excruciating levels and the same can be said for depression ➜ when isagi notices that something's up with you too, in addition to the learning curve of having a newborn son around, he also gets thrown in way in over his head ➜ the two of you begin to have arguments a lot as a result. he is upset because the entire pregnancy, you'd been raving about how you couldn't wait to have a kid, and now? now all of that was gone ➜ after a particularly explosive fight, he finally sees the pain you're going through as well, best believe he'll do whatever he can to make sure you get the help you need ➜ after all, he can't do this by himself

"Yoichi please-" "I just don't understand," Isagi groans, kneeling in front of you. His hands are on your knees and his face is bowed. "I . . . I thought we agreed that this is what we wanted? Why are you backing out now that Ryuji's already here?!" "Who said I was backing out?" you ask incredulously. "Haven't I been doing everything I can? I've been feeding him, changing him, comforting him when he cries. I haven't showered in a week for fucks sake!" "And you look a million miles away throughout it all! You have this face- this horrible distant expression! I just don't understand, didn't you want this?" You slip up and shout, "Who would want this?!" and Isagi flinches back. The two of you stare at one another in horror, before your husband's face contorts to something between grief and anger. "The hell does that mean?" he growls and you lose it. You start bawling and screaming, "Who wants a life confined to just this?! To sore breasts and shit stains and hair pulling and the crying- he won't stop fucking crying! I can't make him stop, you can't make him stop! I don't know what to do!" You fall onto the floor, your hands stabilizing yourself on Isagi's shoulders as you continue to wail. "I want to be there with him! I want to hold my son and be happy to be a mother, but I just can't. Everything feels so big when I hold him, and I feel so small. I hate myself for it! I see other mother's and feel horrible, like why can't I just be them?! It . . . I hate myself so much. I'm horrible. I'm so horrible." Isagi's heart shatters as you cry and he instantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. You tuck your face into his neck and inhale, breathing him in in a way you haven't done since long before Ryuji was born. You stay like that for a while before you croak, "You need to leave me." "What?" Isagi blanches. "I'm not cut out for this whole motherhood thing. I'm so scared one day, I'll do something terrible to Ryu. Something that'll hurt him. I'm not safe to be around. You need to leave me." Isagi stills, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Finally he manages, "I'm taking you to a doctor tomorrow. A psychiatrist at the hospital hopefully. Ryuji will go to my parent's house for a while until we can figure out what to do next." Before you can protest anything, he kisses your forehead. "And that step will not be to leave you. Not in a million years, so you can just forget about that."

➜ kunigami rensuke would quite frankly be the best person at helping you deal with your depression ➜ he knows the intensity of depression, and what it can do to people, especially when they are feeling isolated and alone. he did go through the wild card program after all ➜ he thinks back to how he was during his wild card training and the nel, and to know you're experiencing that kinda intense depression right now pains him beyond the telling ➜ ultimately, he just stays by your side no matter what. if you need space from your daughter, he's quick to help you get some quiet. if you need a shoulder to cry on, he'll hold you for as long as he can, letting your tears soak his shirt without a word of complaint ➜ after all, you've given him the gift of your daughter, so the least he can do is take care of her mother, and his wife, as well

You're sitting up in bed, your eyes closed and a cup of tea in your hands. It's only half drunk and starting to cool, but the cup is still warm enough to keep your hands from freezing, so you hold tight. Eventually, Kunigami steps into the bedroom, a soft smile on his face as he sees you. He walks up to you and sits beside you, his head resting on your lap. "Is Sakura asleep?" You ask, petting his orange hair. He hums in confirmation and peeks up at you through his lashes. You take note of the dark circles under his eyes and you look away, guilt eating at you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, and he tilts his head. "For what?" You purse your lips before sighing. You set the tea off to the side and close your eyes. "For making you do all the work. I wish I . . . I was a better mom and wife." He shoots up, immediately his hands going to your cheeks, brushing away imaginary tears. "Hey, hey none of that. You're an excellent mother, and a wonderful wife. Why on earth would you think otherwise?" "Because you've taken all the hard jobs like putting her to sleep and changing her-" "Because you've already done more than enough for her and for me. You keep her alive- hell you gave her life- and you continue to do other things around the house, like cooking amazing food for me. I couldn't ask for anything more, truly." You lean into his hands. A tear leaks from your eyes as you ask, "Really, Ren?" Kunigami nods and presses his forehead against yours. "Just keep doing what you're doing. If I need help, I'll ask, and if you need help, ask. I don't ever want you to feel like you're not doing enough or that you're alone. You're not, you never will be, not while I'm here." You sob, and he kisses you through it, his lips soft against yours. For the first time in months, you feel like you can properly relax.

a/n: this is prob gonna get a tad bit personal, but i just wanna reiterate how much love and respect I hold for mothers out there. all of the women in my fam have problems with their reproductive health, and it's likely that I will too when I'm older. Despite this, they've never been anything but incredibly mothers and role models and I love my mom, my aunts, and my grandma dearly

i also want to be a mom when I'm older and I encourage everyone who also wants this to do some serious research into what pregnancy/motherhood entails. it's rough out here for us girls and no one is gonna support us the way we will ourselves, and part of that means being educated on our bodies, despite the lack of proper research done with them a lot of times

anyways, rant over. love y'all and stay safe to all the mamas out there!

[lasbiarez]

Modern fem one sided jiuyuan AU where liushen are in an established relationship and Shen Jiu wants to get with Shen Yuan (any most means necessary) while everyone keeps telling her that's a bad idea. She doesn't listen to them and commences operation "There are worse things than being a homewrecker"

What she doesn't take into account is that Shen Yuan is dense as hell (also thinks she's into men SOMEHOW) and any seduction from Shen Jiu gets brushed off

Shen Yuan, walking in on a naked Shen Jiu: Oh shit— Sorry!!! I didn't know you were changing!!!

Shen Jiu: You can stay

Shen Yuan, thinking Shen Jiu needs help dressing up: I didn't know you had troubles with the zippers, ofc I can help with that

Liu Qingge mentions the behaviour ONCE for Shen Yuan to say "huh? Yeah, she's such a good friend. I should set her up with one of my guy friends, maybe she'll like that!" and Liu Qingge is so confident about Shen Yuan's lack of romantic and/or sexual awareness (having experienced it first hand) that she doesn't have to do anything about Shen Jiu. Liu Qingge is a little bit smug and very delighted by it

Every failed scheme Shen Jiu wallows sadly in the dark while thinking of other ways to seduce Shen Yuan like a supervillain. What she gets kinda right is that she wants Shen Yuan to come to her willingly, so no attempt to permanently get rid of Liu Qingge (murder or blackmail is not allowed) or forcing Shen Yuan to get with her through coercion or the likes

She has an evil board in her room detailing her super secret plan to take Shen Yuan on the best date she will ever experience and leave that stinky brute Liu Qingge behind in the dust crying and alone. Yue Qingyuan—her roommate—is very concerned, especially since Shen Jiu brainstorms scheme ideas at her and kinda looks like she's losing it bit by bit every day. Yue Qingyuan is mostly hoping Shen Jiu will get tired of it one day and move on (she doesn't)

Yue Qingyuan: You know, Xiao Jiu... maybe... at this point you should give it a rest? Take some time for yourself...

Shen Jiu, staring intently at her board: You're in a relationship so you don't get to say anything

Yue Qingyuan: It's just concerning, if you want to date someone that badly there's still plenty of fish in the sea! I can set you up with—

Shen Jiu: I don't WANT other fish in the sea! I want— *slams a picture of Shen Yuan she has in her pocket onto the board* —her

The seduction happens often enough that literally everyone other than Shen Yuan can kinda tell what's going on here. Shen Jiu hides the attempts very well, she's just less better at hiding her frustration after it inevitably fails

Oh and Shen Jiu doesn't get with Shen Yuan in the end btw, she's just like this forever

—until the last act where Shen Jiu finds out she's aromantic the whole time and wants Shen Yuan because she's insecure about her position as a friend in Shen Yuan's circle, not realising she can be good friends with Shen Yuan even if Shen Yuan's in a relationship with Liu Qingge. I love amatonormativity /s

[anticipatedexhale]

Can you do the arcane characters with a s/o who is obsessed with their looks and how they’re perceived to others?

Hellooo <3 ofc I can!!

Just a disclaimer u are absolutely gorgeous and wonderful just the way you are! Inside and out! Don't let fake standards and false words put by society get to you please, love yourself just the way u are because although it's the hardest type of love to achieve it's also the most fulfilling<33

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Wish I could be like you, but I’m not that cool.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, sevika

☆ ◞ summary: when you care too much it starts to backfire on you, when you think you lost everything they are right beside you.

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, tons of bad talk about ones body and self, insecurities that may be triggering you some so please be careful while reading.

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been confident—he knew who he was, what he stood for, and never really cared much about what others thought of him. So when he started noticing how much you worried about your looks and how people perceived you, it caught him off guard.

At first, he thought it was just normal self-care. Everyone liked to look good, right? But then he started picking up on the little things.

The way you’d constantly check your reflection in any shiny surface you passed. The way you’d subtly adjust your outfit over and over, as if trying to perfect it. How you’d bite your lip and glance around nervously when someone so much as whispered near you, convinced it was about you.

And when you two were out together? Forget about it. You agonized over every detail—your hair, your posture, your expressions. Always making sure you were just right.

Jayce hated seeing you stress over it.

One evening, you were getting ready for an event, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the fiftieth time, inspecting yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

"Does this look okay?" you asked for the third time in ten minutes. "Maybe I should change. Do you think people will—"

Jayce sighed and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you away from the mirror.

“Babe,” he said softly, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why does it matter so much what other people think?”

You hesitated, looking down. “I just… I don’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. People talk, Jayce.”

His expression softened. “I don’t give a damn what people say. And you shouldn’t either.”

You sighed, but he wasn’t done. He cupped your face, tilting it up so you had to look at him.

“You’re already perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t care what you’re wearing, how your hair looks, or what people think. They don’t see what I see.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “…And what do you see?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Someone incredible. Someone who makes me laugh, who makes me proud every damn day. Someone I’d still be crazy about even if you walked into that party wearing mismatched shoes and a potato sack.”

You let out a startled laugh, rolling your eyes. “A potato sack?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Yep. You’d still be the best-looking person in the room.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “…You really don’t care?”

“Not one bit,” he promised. “I just want you to be happy. Not stressing over what a bunch of nobodies think.”

His words hit deep. And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed them.

Maybe—just maybe—you didn’t need everyone else’s approval.

Maybe Jayce’s was enough.

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Mel Medarda.

Mel had always been surrounded by high society, where appearances were more than just about beauty—they were about power, influence, and command. She’d been taught from a young age how to control the room with a well-placed smile, a confident stance, and the right attire. But while she had mastered the art of fitting into the expectations of others, she’d never let them control her.

When she first noticed your obsession with your appearance—how you would fret over the smallest detail, constantly worry about what others thought, and always seek validation from the people around you—she didn’t rush to correct you. Instead, she observed, trying to understand why it mattered so much to you.

One evening, you were preparing for another event, this time a gala held by Piltover’s elite. You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes darting between your reflection and the wardrobe full of options, your fingers pulling at your hair, your expression one of deep dissatisfaction.

“Mel,” you said, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m just not—”

She stepped into the room with the effortless grace she was known for, her gaze soft yet intense as she approached you. “You’re just not what?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know… I feel like I don’t belong here,” you confessed, your hands wringing together. “I keep thinking about what people will say when they see me. What if they don’t think I’m… enough?”

Mel’s brow furrowed as she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, turning you to face her fully. “Let me ask you something,” she began, her tone serious but tender. “Why do you care so much about what they think?”

You looked down, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Because if I don’t look a certain way, if I’m not perfect, I feel like I won’t matter.”

Mel took a deep breath, stepping closer to you, her hands gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at her. Her gaze softened as she studied you for a moment, her fingers brushing the side of your face.

“Sweetheart,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “You are already more than enough. I’ve seen you, not just with your looks, but with your heart, your intelligence, your strength.” She smiled softly. “You think people are only judging you based on how you look, but the truth is, they want to see you. They want to know you—the person who carries themselves with such grace and confidence, the one who makes them wonder how they missed such brilliance.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to fit into others' expectations. To be what people wanted me to be,” Mel continued, her eyes locking with yours, unwavering. “But I realized that I will never be happy that way. And neither will you. So stop letting your worth be defined by others. You have everything you need inside of you already.”

You blinked, the warmth of her words washing over you. “But… I still feel like I’m not enough sometimes.”

Mel gently cupped your face, leaning in until her forehead rested against yours. “Then let me remind you every day how much you mean to me. You’re perfect just as you are.”

You swallowed, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

With a soft chuckle, Mel pulled back slightly. “Good. Now let’s go out there, and when they look at you, let them see the amazing person I see.”

And as she helped you get dressed, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Mel never pressured you to be anyone else, but she also knew how to help you realize that you had more power than you gave yourself credit for.

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Viktor.

Viktor’s perspective on beauty had always been one of deep pragmatism. His entire life had been about improving, evolving, and focusing on the mind’s capacity to achieve, while the world outside often seemed obsessed with superficial qualities. He’d never cared much for what others thought of him or how he looked. But when it came to you, it was different.

He’d noticed, more and more, how often you seemed preoccupied with your appearance. You would spend hours before a mirror, adjusting your clothes or making sure every strand of hair was in place, always worried about what others might think. Sometimes, even after all the effort, there was a quiet dissatisfaction in your expression, and it made him wonder how much you truly believed in yourself.

One evening, after a long day of work, Viktor arrived home to find you sitting on the couch, still in your outfit from earlier. Your gaze was fixed on your phone screen, scrolling through images of other people’s lives, comparing your appearance to theirs. Your posture was tense, your brows furrowed in frustration.

Viktor quietly approached, his voice soft yet steady as he spoke your name. “You’re still awake? What’s going on, love?”

You glanced up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just thinking. About how everyone seems to have it all figured out. How they look perfect, and I’m… well, I don’t know.” You trailed off, your gaze dropping back to your phone.

Viktor, noticing the sharp contrast between your usual confident self and the person sitting before him, knelt beside the couch, taking your hand gently in his. His tone was patient, understanding, but there was a certain firmness that made you look up at him.

“Your worth has never been determined by someone else’s perception of you,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “You’ve spent so much time trying to please others, trying to fit a mold you never asked for. But I need you to understand something, love…”

You looked at him, unsure, waiting for him to continue.

“You are far more than just the sum of your physical appearance or the validation of others,” Viktor continued, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are a person of substance, of intellect, of heart. And that’s what I fell in love with. Not the way you look, but who you are.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat. Viktor’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand, gently lifting it to his lips. “And you don’t need to change for anyone. Not for me, not for anyone.”

There was silence between you, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. His words settled in your chest, easing the tension that had built up over the past few hours.

“I just feel like I’m constantly chasing something I can never achieve,” you admitted quietly. “Trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone else expects.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened with concern, but he smiled gently. “What if I told you that the most perfect version of yourself is already here? Right now, in this moment? That you are more than enough, as you are?”

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of wisdom, of someone who had seen the world through a lens of endless improvement. Slowly, you found yourself leaning into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace and the security of his steady presence.

“I’m still learning, Viktor,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. “Learning to accept myself.”

“And I’ll be here,” he murmured, his voice warm and unwavering. “Every step of the way. To remind you that you’re perfect, not because of how you look, but because of who you are.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into your soul. In that moment, with Viktor by your side, you realized that the person you needed to please the most was yourself. And with him, you finally understood that your worth was never tied to anyone’s expectations—but rather, to the person you were, inside and out.

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

Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn was never one to place much value on appearances. Sure, she knew the importance of looking presentable, especially in her position, but she also understood that true beauty went beyond what the eye could see. For Caitlyn, what truly mattered were values, intellect, and integrity. But when she noticed you often fretting over your appearance, constantly adjusting your outfit, and seeking validation from others, it tugged at her heart. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, but didn’t know how to reach you—until one quiet evening.

After a long day at work, Caitlyn came home to find you in front of the mirror once again, changing clothes, adjusting your makeup, and constantly re-evaluating your reflection. She leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching you with a concerned expression.

You didn’t even notice her at first, your mind lost in the whirlwind of doubts that always seemed to surface when you weren’t in her company. “I don’t know, Cait. What if I’m not enough?” you muttered under your breath, pulling at the collar of your shirt as if it could make you feel better. “What if they don’t think I’m… beautiful enough?”

Caitlyn stepped into the room quietly, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you think that?”

You jumped, not expecting her to be standing so close. “Oh… I didn’t hear you.” You gave a weak smile, clearly still upset.

“Babe, what’s going on? You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. She stepped closer and reached for your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “What are you looking for?”

You hesitated, glancing at your reflection before turning to face her. “I just… I feel like people judge me all the time. What if they don’t like how I look? What if I’m too much for them? Or not enough?”

Caitlyn’s expression softened with a mix of empathy and concern. She could feel how deeply you were struggling, and though she didn’t share your worries about appearances, she understood the burden of those feelings. She gently cupped your face in her hands, tilting your chin so your eyes met hers.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low but confident. “You are enough. Right now, in this moment, you’re more than enough.”

You blinked, her words striking a chord deep inside. “But what if people think I’m…”

She cut you off gently. “You are beautiful, but more than that, you’re incredible. You make a difference. You’re kind, intelligent, and strong. No outfit or hairstyle is going to change that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words began to sink in. “But what if I’m not… what people expect?”

Caitlyn smiled, her hands gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations but your own. I fell in love with you for who you are, not because of how you look. And I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now, just by being yourself.”

Her sincerity made your heart swell, and despite your lingering doubts, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Caitlyn didn’t care about the opinions of others; she cared about you—and that was all that mattered.

“I guess I’ve been so focused on trying to be perfect that I forgot how to just be me,” you admitted softly.

Caitlyn chuckled, her thumbs gently rubbing circles on your cheeks. “And I’ll remind you every day that you don’t need to be perfect for anyone. You’re perfect for me.”

You leaned into her touch, a sense of comfort settling in your chest. “Thank you, Cait. I really needed to hear that.”

She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. You don’t have to change a thing.”

In that moment, you realized that your true beauty didn’t lie in how others saw you, but in how Caitlyn saw you—and how you saw yourself when you let go of the expectations that had once held you back.

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

Vi.

Vi had always been more about strength and character than appearances. She had a no-nonsense attitude and didn’t care much for superficial things. Whether in a fight or just hanging out, she preferred to focus on what truly mattered—what was inside a person. So when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, constantly tweaking your outfit or worrying about how others perceived you, it threw her off. She couldn’t quite understand why you’d feel like you weren’t enough when to her, you were already perfect just as you were.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, Vi returned home to find you sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, flipping through social media. You’d been quiet all evening, and she could tell something was bothering you. As she approached, she noticed you adjusting your outfit for the fourth time, pulling at the hem of your shirt, checking the mirror again.

Vi raised an eyebrow, concern flashing across her face. “You good, babe? You seem a little… distracted.”

You didn’t look up, still preoccupied with your reflection. “I don’t know. I just feel like people always judge me. I mean, look at them, Vi,” you said, showing her your phone screen, where a bunch of influencers and well-dressed people filled the screen. “Why can’t I look like that? I don’t know… I just feel like I’m never enough, no matter what I do.”

Vi looked at the screen for a moment before setting it down gently, stepping closer to you. “Hey, look at me,” she said, her voice a little more serious now. “I don’t get it. You’ve got all this beauty inside and out, and you’re worried about some picture on a screen?”

You gave a little laugh, but it was hollow. “It’s not just a picture, Vi. People always notice what I wear, what I look like. I feel like I’m always trying to fit into something I’m not.”

Vi tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with that intense, protective gaze of hers. “You don’t need to fit into any mold, babe. You’re not some... trend to follow. You’re you. And trust me, that’s more than enough.”

You looked away, unsure. "But people don't see that. They only care about the surface."

Vi sighed, her expression softening as she sat next to you. She took your hand in hers, her grip strong but comforting. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see a person who's been through a lot, someone who doesn't need to put on a mask to be loved. Someone who's real. And that's what makes you so amazing. I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks. And I know you don't need to change for anyone."

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the feelings bubbling up inside. Vi, with her blunt honesty and genuine affection, had a way of cutting through the noise, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you weren’t as lost as you thought.

Vi leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. “You know I love you for exactly who you are, right? And if you’re worried about how others see you, then maybe you should let them see the real you. Because that’s who I love. The real you. Not some version of you trying to impress everyone else.”

You could feel her words sinking in, easing the pressure you hadn’t even realized had been building. You felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you as Vi’s embrace tightened, holding you close.

"I know I'm tough and rough around the edges," she whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "but you don’t need to be anything other than what makes you happy. And if that means wearing your favorite old shirt or going makeup-free, I’m still gonna think you’re the best thing in the world."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you found yourself relaxing into her warmth. “Thanks, Vi. I needed that.”

Vi grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Anytime, babe. Just remember: you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

In that moment, surrounded by her love and honesty, you realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was the one that came from within—and with Vi, you were finally starting to believe it.

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

Jinx.

Jinx was many things—chaotic, unpredictable, and loud—but when it came to you, she was surprisingly sensitive. Her world had always been in a constant state of madness, but there was something calming about being with you. You were her rock, her one constant in the storm. That’s why it bothered her so much when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, always fidgeting with your clothes, your hair, or your makeup, constantly worried about how others saw you.

One evening, after a particularly wild day of mayhem (courtesy of Jinx, of course), you sat on the couch, staring at your phone screen. Your brows were furrowed, your thumb scrolling through social media, comparing yourself to others. Jinx had been watching you for a while, and it was starting to get under her skin.

"Hey, you!" she suddenly called out, practically throwing herself onto the couch next to you, her usual enthusiasm filling the room.

You jumped a little, distracted. “Oh, hey, Jinx. What’s up?” You didn’t look up from your phone, still fixated on the images that seemed to be making you feel worse with every swipe.

Jinx tilted her head, studying your face closely. Her blue hair bounced as she moved, and her expression softened just a little. “You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said, a hint of concern lacing her voice. “Why do you keep looking at that stuff?”

You sighed, showing her your phone. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always trying to keep up with everyone else, you know? They always look so… perfect. I feel like I don’t measure up.”

Jinx blinked, her usual manic energy quieting for a moment as she processed your words. "What do you mean, perfect?" she asked, her voice almost childlike in its confusion. “Perfect’s boring, though! I mean, sure, it’s fun to be perfectly insane, but... you’re way cooler than perfect! Who needs to be that?”

You looked at her, a little unsure. “I just… I don’t know, Jinx. I feel like I’m always trying to be someone I’m not, trying to look like everyone else. But nothing ever feels good enough.”

Jinx leaned back dramatically, her arms spread wide. “You wanna know something? I don’t think you need to look like anyone else, ever!” she said, her eyes wide and full of her usual chaotic energy. “You’re already amazing the way you are, and I don’t get why you keep looking at that stuff. I mean, look at me—no one can look like me and that’s what makes me awesome! So you just need to be you, okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her randomness, even as a weight still sat heavy in your chest. Jinx smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the way her words were beginning to work their magic. “I know you think you gotta be something you’re not, but I love you just as you are. You’re like… the best thing ever! You don’t need to change anything to impress anyone, especially not me.”

She leaned forward then, her hands clasping yours tightly. Her wild eyes softened as she looked at you with an intensity that was rare for her. “I love you, okay? You—with all the stuff you think isn’t perfect. I don’t need a perfect you. I need you, the one with all the quirks and the weird little things that make you you!”

You blinked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at her words. Jinx had a way of making things seem so much lighter, her chaotic nature always breaking through the heaviness of your own doubts. Her laugh was like music, and the more she spoke, the more you felt the pressure you had been putting on yourself start to lift.

“Jinx,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Thank you. I think I just needed to hear it from you. I’ve been so focused on trying to change, I forgot what made me… me.”

“Exactly!” Jinx exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just made the greatest revelation in the world. “Just be you, and if anyone else doesn’t get it, then they’re the ones who are messed up! You’re freaking awesome, and I’m lucky to have you.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. "Don’t ever try to be anything other than you again, okay?" she whispered into your ear. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in the chaos that only Jinx could provide. With her by your side, maybe, just maybe, you could start to let go of the expectations that others had placed on you—and just embrace the person you were.

And with that, Jinx’s chaotic energy became the balm you didn’t know you needed, reminding you that in this world of uncertainty, the most important thing was being true to yourself.

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

Ekko.

Ekko had always been a little different. The way he saw the world wasn’t about appearances or surface-level stuff—it was about people, their hearts, and their actions. It wasn’t lost on him that you seemed to care a lot about how others perceived you, constantly stressing over what to wear, how to look, or whether you were keeping up with the trends. At first, he didn’t really understand it. Why would you care what other people thought when you were already so incredible in his eyes?

One evening, after working on his latest invention in the workshop, Ekko was looking forward to spending some quiet time with you. He’d been busy with the repairs and inventions for the underground, but when he finally entered the room, he immediately noticed something different about you. You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, occasionally staring at the mirror, then back at the pages. The quiet tension in the air told him something was off.

He walked up to you and gently sat down next to you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. "You seem… distracted."

You looked up, surprised to see him. You hadn’t realized you were being so obvious about your self-doubt. "Oh, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile. "Just… you know, trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow. Something that’ll make me look good enough for the crowd, y’know?"

Ekko frowned slightly. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your fingers were nervously flipping through pages. He didn’t need to be a genius to see that something was bothering you.

He leaned back against the couch, giving you a moment to breathe before speaking up again. “What crowd? I thought you were more about being yourself, not some image you’ve got to keep up with.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s hard. I mean, look at everyone else, Ekko. They’re all perfect—well-dressed, confident, always looking like they’ve got it all figured out. I just… I don’t know. I want to feel good about myself, but it feels like I’m always falling short.”

Ekko let out a small sigh. He had seen you struggle with this before, but hearing it out loud always tugged at his heart. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn’t measure up, especially in a world that made it easy to compare yourself to everyone around you. But to him, you were already more than enough.

"You don’t need to be like anyone else, you know that, right?" Ekko said, his voice calm yet serious. "I get it, everyone around here seems to care about appearances or ‘keeping up with the Joneses,’ but that’s not what makes someone special. You’re already incredible. The real you—not some idealized version of yourself—is what I love."

He took your hand, gently guiding you to face him. "It’s not about looking like someone else. It’s about being you. And when you’re you, that’s when you shine the brightest. You’re unique, and that’s what makes you stand out. Not some perfect look or what other people think."

You felt a lump form in your throat, his words piercing through the insecurities that had been building inside. Ekko was always so patient with you, always grounding you when the chaos of the world started to feel too heavy. His belief in you, in who you were as a person, was unwavering.

"Ekko, I’m just so used to trying to fit in," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like everyone expects me to be perfect, to look a certain way."

Ekko shook his head, his hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "You don’t need to fit into anyone’s box. You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters. You’ve got something they don’t—your heart, your mind, your creativity. You’ve always had it, and I see it every single day."

He stood up, giving you a playful grin. "You know what’s really cool about you? You can pull off anything—whether it’s a fancy outfit or a worn-out hoodie. You make it look good because it’s you. And honestly, that’s way more impressive than anything I’ve ever seen."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a little of the weight lifting off your shoulders as you finally met his eyes. “You really think that?”

Ekko nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. "More than anything. I’m proud of you, just the way you are. You don’t need anyone’s approval, especially not when you’ve already got mine."

You stood up to face him, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. There was no need to change for the world. You had Ekko, and that was more than enough to make you feel seen and loved.

"I love you, you know that?" you whispered.

Ekko grinned, his eyes lighting up as he pulled you into a hug. "I love you too, more than you’ll ever know."

In his arms, you felt safe—safe to be yourself, flaws and all. Maybe it wasn’t about perfection after all. Maybe it was about finding the people who truly saw you, the real you, and loving you for exactly who you were.

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

Sevika.

The quiet buzz of the dimly lit workshop was disrupted by a small, sudden sigh. Sevika paused, her fingers lightly gripping the wrench she was working with as she looked over at you. You were at the far corner of the room, your attention focused on the full-length mirror. Your gaze was distant, eyes scanning every inch of yourself, your expression more tense than usual.

She could see the way your shoulders tensed, the slight frown on your lips, and she knew that look all too well. It was the look of someone caught in the trap of self-doubt, obsessing over things that didn't truly matter. Sevika, who always carried herself with quiet confidence, couldn't help but notice how much you seemed to care about things that didn’t define your worth—things like appearance, status, and the opinions of others.

Without saying a word, Sevika set her tools down and walked toward you, her large frame cutting through the space with the same assured steps she always had. There was something about your current mood that tugged at her, an instinct to take care of you when she saw you struggling.

She came up behind you, leaning her back against the wall and crossing her arms, just watching. There was no rush to intervene. Sevika had learned that sometimes, you needed time to process things on your own before anyone could help.

After a moment, you spoke without turning to face her. "Do you think they’d like me more if I looked different? I mean… everyone seems to have something special about them. What if I’m just… not good enough?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and raw. Sevika stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Hey," she said, her hand resting on your shoulder, urging you to meet her eyes. "You’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re not here to be ‘liked’ by anyone else but yourself."

You swallowed, still unable to fully meet her gaze. "I don’t know, Sevika. I just—sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t live up to… to what they expect, to what everyone else has. I don’t know how to be comfortable with myself."

Sevika’s eyes softened, her hand gently turning your chin so that you finally faced her. "You don’t need to worry about them. You don’t need to worry about being perfect, because there’s no such thing. No one is perfect—not even the ones who pretend they are."

Her voice was steady, filled with that unwavering confidence that made her so impossible to ignore. "You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s not something that comes from looking a certain way. It comes from what you’ve been through, how you keep going despite everything. That’s what I admire about you. Not how you look, but the person you are."

Your breath caught, the frustration in your chest softening with her words. For a moment, you let yourself believe her, feeling the weight of your insecurities ease just a little.

"I think you forget sometimes that people who truly care about you… the ones who matter, don’t give a damn about your looks," Sevika continued, her thumb lightly tracing your cheek, her touch gentle yet powerful. "You think I’m here because you’ve got the perfect image? Nah. I’m here because you’ve got heart. You’ve always had it."

A rare, soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "And you think I’d let someone like you get away with being anything less than amazing?"

You chuckled softly, the tension melting away at the sincerity in her words. Sevika’s tough exterior had always been there, but in moments like this, she allowed her softer side to show, especially when it came to you. You could see in her eyes that she didn’t just mean what she was saying—she believed it wholeheartedly.

"Sevika, I—"

She cut you off, her finger lightly tapping your lips. "No more self-doubt. No more comparisons. You’re incredible. Just as you are."

For once, the mirror didn’t seem so important. It wasn’t about how others saw you, but how you saw yourself through her eyes. Sevika may not always say a lot, but in moments like this, her actions spoke volumes. You let yourself lean into her touch, the assurance in her presence becoming your anchor.

She leaned in close, her voice softer now, just for you. "Now, let’s forget about everyone else for a while, yeah? Tonight’s about you, about us. You don’t need to impress anyone but yourself."

And as you let her embrace you, a weight lifted, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

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

Authors note: I really do apologize if this isn't to ur liking my darling or it feels repetitive I just really could not come up with different scenarios dear God I was about to crash out..

[cowplant-pizza]

inaya bedi is looking for university roomates! 😘✨

i really want to fill the dorm rooms with sims from you guys, so please post your sims that want to study in britechester!! any sims are fine but i do want her to have some friends and potential love interests so don't make them all super mean lol! 👀

your sim(s) must be:

young adult

any gender

human only

maxis match cc

you need to:

make a post detailing your sims appearance + personality (the more info the better)

tell me what course your sim wants to take, and give them the needed skills if it's a special course

be happy for me to slightly change your sims to fit my style (default eyes, skin, ect.)

tag me in your post ofc so i see it

post your sims to me by 10th (i know its short notice but i reaaaally want to start playing)*

be willing to send me the tray files including cc

*if you want me to add your sim after this date i can just add them into my world ofc

i don't have a limit to the amount of sims i'm taking in so feel free to make as many as you want!!!

[acupofinkedblood]

Hello!! I saw you do a general request and I was wondering if I could put mine here? No pressure ofc! You can do this when you would like to! since I see you already have requests to work on! But may I ask how would the Phighters react to a reader who hates physical touch with anyone else except them? like the reader cuddles up to them in private and it’s kinda a shocker!

I mean sure! I did tell my customers that I do take general ask for the phighters, so I’ll oblige to my words as the teamaker ( ◠‿◠ ) Though it won’t be as detailed as my actual request. And as usual, Biograft excluded

Sword: Sword is pretty big on physical touch if not with basically everyone he deems to be ‘not so bad’ enough. He’s like a literal golden retriever that asked to be petted almost every single time from anyone in sight. So he was definitely surprised when seeing how much of the fuss you were making when others touch you a little. But then you only let him hold you, which does make Sword a bit curious. Yet he respects your wishes, even let others know about your reference loud and clear

Skateboard: He does notice that quirk of yours, and it amuses him. The way your face grimaces then shoo people away before gets back to his side. But at least it makes him feel privileged when knowing that you’re only that clingy when around him. Not to the point like an accessory, but he’s proud that you’re his official side piece at this point. Of course, he will be more than glad to fish you out of any situation you dislike

Katana: Amused is an understatement. Katana doesn’t understand why you only demand physical affection from him, yet he doesn’t question further since he knows that you might have your personal reasons for this particular behavior. He expects you to be like him, reserved and all. But then this? What a shocker. He definitely needs a moment to get used to this

Banhammer: Someone please teach this guy on emotional intelligence properly because it can be so much of a nuisance when dealing with him sometimes. He is so oblivious to the obvious change in your demeanor to the point you have to question on whether or not is he really blinded. He only thinks that it’s just how you are without doting too much about it

Rocket: You remind him of who he used to be when still living his days out on the street. He was also reluctant to physical touch with almost everyone, but not until he found someone he could trust with. Rocket understands your position, and it does amuse him a certain amount when seeing you so touch starved behind closed door like that. You do remind him of his younger self, carving for affection yet only from those you can trust completely in

Slingshot: He understands people’s boundaries, so he doesn’t push you when knowing that you’re not that into physical contact. However when you just cling onto him out of nowhere, Slingshot is pretty much dumbfounded by the sudden change in attitude. He might ask you questions to get that reassurance that you’re okay with this, that if you don’t want to then that’s fine. But then you already know the drill: This man is just stuck with you being a cuddle bug in private. Not that he minds much, he likes this anyway

Hyperlaser: To be honest, you remind this man of a cat. Maybe not Princess, but just a cat in general at how you have an attitude with strangers who try to approach you physically. At this point, giving you a pair of ears and a set of claws will be enough to make you an actual cat. Hyperlaser doesn’t mind you being clingy to him after going back home, as Princess does that a lots too. The only difference is that now he has to pay attention so he can cuddle the both of you at the same time, what a surprise

Shuriken: Doesn’t notice at first, but is still pretty accepting of the situation when you explain to him. Shuriken goes along with your wish, if you don’t like to be touched, that’s cool. If you suddenly feel comfortable enough to want him closer physically? That’s great to hear then! Sometimes he just genuinely forgets that you dislikes physical touch with everyone but him, hence the surprise when he sees you react certain ways to others. But overall, he is still fine with it

Scythe: Scythe will take that as a privilege of having you completely. She doesn’t care about whether or not you are touchy with others because at the end of the days, she knows that you’re hers. You do have quite the understanding of your manners after all. But it does bring a smirk onto her face when she realizes just how you dislike being touched but then completely glued to her side when there are only the two of you. It gives her this satisfaction that she can’t really put into words

Medkit: Like Katana, Medkit expects you to be anything but clingy. Sometimes he might act like he is bothered by it, but then he can’t really push you away from times to times. Medkit isn’t a big fan of physical touch, but something small like holding hand or a slight hug at first will be a good warm up to him before anything else. He will compare you to a cat at some point. Just don’t expect him to give you back the physical affection you want all of the time, he needs some personal space too

Boombox: Similar to Slingshot, Boombox respects your reference and tries his best to make things comfortable for you even when he’s pretty much a clingy guy himself. So when he witnesses the cuddly attitude of yours out of the blue, he is rather surprised yet recovering almost immediately and responds back to your hug with his own. He’s glad that he makes you feel safe enough to step out of your personal safe zone

Vinestaff: She is like this combination of both Shuriken and Slingshot in this aspect. She does respect your boundaries since the beginning of your relationship with each others, but when you get physical intimacy with her out of nowhere, she won’t make a fuss over it. She understands that maybe that’s just how you are, and she gladly accepts that little thing about you

Subspace: This bastard will make it a point to brag about like how much of a little shit he is. Don’t be surprised, you know that this is what might happen if you give Subspace that privilege of being physically intimate with knowing that you only do that to him. His ego will be shot up into the stars. Although he does get annoyed when you’re sticking to his hip all of the time when you two are alone, he doesn’t shoo you that often aside from when he is busy

Coil: Probably point that out almost immediately with no filter. This guy is just that, pardon him. He will ask you about why you’re so clingy to him in a moment and then turn around to glare at others almost immediately afterwards. He’s just curious about that specific thing about you, not that he is annoyed or anything. Not at all. He’s just curious about it. Coil doesn’t mind, but sometimes he might be an ass and not giving you the physical affection that you want until you have enough of the teasing

That’s all I have to say, I hope that this will satisfy you (⌒▽⌒)

[unlimitedlust]

Bite Me - Eric Draven (AU) x Reader | Part. 1

(The image above does not belong to me, all credits belong to its owner)

Summary:

They were childhood rivals who hadn’t spoken in years, until a wedding reunion throws them back into each other’s orbit. With tension simmering beneath every glance, one weekend turns into a series of unexpected moments, sharp words, and almosts that linger long after the party ends. But when fate keeps bringing them back together, the line between hate and something far more irresistible begins to blur.

Author’s note:

Good evening everyone! This is a new story/project of mine, a little different of the ones in this blog, but I felt like trying something new and I hope y’all enjoy it.

I don’t know how many chapters this story will have, so we’ll find this detail out together hehe.

Tag list is open, let me know if you want to be tagged in this story!!!

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

As the story progresses I’ll let you know if the chapters has any sensitive topics beforehand.

This story will have smut scenes in the future (ofc I can’t change this part of me 👁️👄👁️), but you’ll be warned!

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes I eventually skipped while proof-reading it.

This is a AU Eric Draven!!!

If you enjoy this, please let me know if I should continue this, your feedback is precious for me 🫶🏻

End of Author’s note.

Y/N hadn’t expected to see him. Eric.

Not here. Not today. Not with champagne in her hand and a practiced smile stretched across her face as she prepared to play the part of the perfectly put-together bridesmaid.

But there he was, leaning against the far side of the ceremony tent like he belonged in a different scene entirely. Dressed in a crisp black suit, hands in his pockets, head tilted just slightly like he’d already spotted her and was debating whether or not to wave.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

She hadn’t seen him in what? Ten years? Long enough that she should’ve forgotten the exact shade of his beautiful green eyes or the way he always looked like he was either seconds from laughing or seconds from starting a fight with her. Long enough that she should’ve stopped feeling anything at all, even if every one of those feelings was negative. At least that’s what she always told herself.

And yet here she was, heart stuttering, stomach twisting, palms sweating, all because of a man who once ruined her thirteenth birthday party by telling everyone she still slept with a nightlight.

She swallowed hard and turned her gaze to the front of the aisle, pretending she hadn’t noticed him. Pretending it didn’t matter.

Y/N took a sip of her champagne. Bubbly, expensive, and exactly what she needed. She scanned the guests, counting how many familiar faces she could recognize and cling to before fate, or seating arrangements, forced them into the same conversation.

Because eventually, they’d have to have some sort of awkward unwanted contact. Smile. Pretend they hadn’t once declared mutual hatred under a high school gym roof after homecoming. Pretend they didn’t share a history littered with insults, grudging team projects, and one almost-kiss in the backseat of someone else’s car that neither of them ever mentioned again.

And the worst part?

He looked better now. Older. Taller. Small random tattoos over his face, neck as hands, and she could only wonder how many more he had under his suit.

Damn him.

She glanced toward him again, just once. This time, Eric was already looking at her and, unlike her, he didn’t look away.

He just smiled, slow and smug, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back toward the aisle, catching a discreet glance from the wedding planner who was motioning for her to take her place. As one of the bridesmaids, she was meant to walk down the aisle paired with…

No. No, it couldn’t be.

But as the groomsmen began to line up, she saw those green eyes, the tattoos, the cocky posture and she realized exactly who her partner would be.

Of course. Of course they were paired together.

He walked up beside her without hesitation, adjusting his cufflinks like they weren’t standing inches apart for the first time in a decade.

“Still pretending you don’t like me.”

She turned just slightly, smiling for the cameras but letting her voice dip lower. “I don’t pretend.”

He smiled like he didn’t believe her.

Their cue came, and they began to walk.

Arm in arm, in front of a hundred people, smiles painted on like nothing was wrong, like her pulse wasn’t thudding in her throat, like his fingers weren’t warm where they touched the bare skin of her arm.

It was only when they reached the altar and took their places side by side that she dared to sneak another glance at him.

He looked maddeningly content. Cool and relaxed like this was fun for him.

Asshole.

The ceremony was beautiful, heartfelt, full of quiet laughter and teary-eyed vows. But Y/N barely heard a word, because he was standing right beside her, hands clasped in front of him, posture perfect, and every once in a while, when no one was looking, he’d glance at her out of the corner of his eye.

She held her own and ignored him as best as she could, all through the confetti toss and the photos, the toasts and the group pictures.

As the party went on, Y/N moved through the crowd of guests seamlessly, hugging friends, catching up, offering congratulations. She tried not to notice how often she felt him just out of her periphery. And yet, every time she turned, there he was. Talking to old classmates. Making people laugh. Always looking like he belonged.

She found herself near a group of friends from school, half of whom she hadn’t seen in years, and somehow, without realizing it, he ended up there too.

Someone handed her a drink.

Someone else made a joke.

And before she could step away, she was pulled into a story, their story, a memory from years ago, something chaotic and stupid that ended with her yelling at him in front of the whole class.

The group laughed, and someone added, “Honestly, I always thought you two were either going to kill each other or…”

“Don’t,” Y/N cut in quickly, but her half-drunken smile betrayed her amusement.

Eric leaned back lazily, resting his arms on the wooden seat rest. “Finish that sentence. I’m curious.”

Their friends howled again, cheers going up as drinks were raised. A few mock bets were placed. Old inside jokes were tossed back and forth like they’d never stopped being sixteen and reckless.

And though Y/N laughed with them, her eyes kept drifting across the circle. To him.

Because even now, after all these years, it still felt like a live wire buzzed between them. One wrong word. One too-long look. And something would spark. It had always been like that.

She stood up eventually, excusing herself with a polite smile, heading toward the bar for a refill she didn’t really want.

Behind her, she could still feel his gaze heavy on her back, travelling up and down her body.

Yet she didn’t turn around, not until she reached the bar and the bartender leaned in to ask what she wanted, only for someone to beat her to it.

“She’ll have the champagne,” Eric said smoothly, sliding up beside her.

She stared at him, unamused. “I can speak for myself.”

“I know,” he replied, handing her the glass the bartender had just poured. “I just wanted an excuse to stand here.”

She took it from him, lips brushing the rim but not drinking. “You don’t need an excuse to be a pain in the ass, Eric. You never did.”

He grinned, leaning in close enough for only her to hear. “No. But it’s more fun this way.” He clinked their glasses. “Cheers.”

[turcott3]

safety net

jack hughes x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, semi slow burn, a kiss, angst and some fluff ofc

positions masterlist!

~trippin’ fallin’ with no safety net~

-

you made your way into the bar, as it was your first weekend living in jersey. you walk in and head straight to the counter, asking for a drink that was sweet and didn’t taste too strongly of alcohol.

“hey stranger.” a voice says to your right and you turn your head.

“dawson?” you say, your eyes widening.

“hey y/n.” he says opening his arms for you to hug him, which you gladly accept.

“how have you been? oh my gosh it’s been what like 3 years.” you say smiling at your old school friend.

“i’ve been good, playing hockey here is fucking awesome.” he says.

“yes! that’s right you play for the devils, how could i forget you getting drafted!” the two of you laugh.

“well how’s your boyfriend? haven’t seen him in a few years either.” he asks curiously.

“funny you should ask, i broke up with him and that’s why i moved here.”

“wait really? why? you don’t have to explain if you’re not comfortable.” the brunette boy asks leaning on the counter.

“well things were so great when we started dating our senior year but within the last year he became a real fucking asshole, so i broke it off and moved away so he couldn’t try to find me and sucker me into being with him again.” you explain, leaving out any details you weren’t ready to share.

“well shit, i’m sorry y/n. i bet that hurt a lot.”

“it did but i’m over it, ready to find someone else.” you say and you practically see the light bulb turn on over his head.

“i think i have someone i want you to meet.” he smirks. you grab your drink and follow close behind him, holding onto his arm.

“hey jack!” dawson says to a brunette boy with bright blue eyes.

“what’s up daws, who’s this?” he says looking at you. you release dawson’s arm and give him a smile.

“jack this is y/n, y/n this is jack.” he says looking between you two.

“nice to meet you, jack.” you say.

“yeah, you too.” he smiles, causing a blush to burn in your cheeks.

“i have to go to the bathroom, you two have fun. don’t get too drunk.” he says giggling and walking off to the bathroom.

“so y/n, what brings you to jersey?” he asks.

“just needed a change of scenery from my hometown. dawson and i went to highschool together.” you tell him.

“oh wow, small world. are you still new to living here or?”

“yeah this is only my first weekend but i’m glad im already meeting people, it was getting pretty lonely.” you laugh.

“well now that you’ve reconnected with dawson, you have a whole new group of people to hang out with.”

“oh are you guys like on the same team?” you ask.

“yeah we are, my brothers around here somewhere. probably tongue deep in some random girl.” he laughs.

“is he older or younger?”

“younger.” he says taking a sip of his drink.

“oh nice.” you smile doing the same.

“can i get your number?” he asks.

“yeah of course.” you say as he hands you his phone.

“what have i missed?” a tall, curly haired boy asks.

“ah yes, y/n, this is my brother luke.”

“nice to meet you.” you say.

“nice to meet you too.” he replies.

“so where were you?” jack asks as i hand him his phone back.

“i was talking to john but i didn’t wanna ruin his game so i came back.” he laughs.

“johnny getting some ladies?”

“he sure was.” luke laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

“i see you’ve met the other one.” dawson says returning from the bathroom.

“yes i have.” i laugh at him. you spent the next 2 hours with the boys, enjoying their presence and the fact that you’d made some friends in your new town.

“well i think im gonna call it a night.” you say taking the final sip of your drink.

“let me walk you?” jack asks.

“yeah sure.” you accept and the two of you make your way out of the bar.

“did you walk here or drive?” he asks stopping once you made it outside.

“oh i walked, i live like two blocks away.”

“okay cool, show me the way.” he says.

“jack you don’t have to.”

“i’m not letting you walk back to your apartment by yourself at midnight in a big city y/n.” he says firmly.

“oh, thank you.” you blush and begin your walk to your apartment. the walk was filled with small talk and laughter, the chemistry between you two growing more and more with seemingly every step.

“well this is my place.” you say arriving at your door.

“alright, have a good night y/n. i’ll text you.” he says as you pull him in for a side hug.

“goodnight jack.” you say shutting the door behind you. it’s been 5 days and you already have a crush on someone you just met. it felt almost wrong. you had broken up with your boyfriend just two weeks ago. you couldn’t allow yourself to move on too quickly. your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you see that dawson had texted you.

dawson: glad you made it back safe!

y/n: thank you! except really you can thank jack

dawson: hahaha well i guess so🙄 have a good night y/n

y/n: you too, see you again soon?

dawson: yes for sure, season starts in like a month and a half i’m sure you’ll get sick of seeing me

y/n: doubt it

dawson: only bc ill bring jack

y/n: bitch

dawson: i’m messing with you lmaooooo goodnight y/n

y/n: goodnight daws😭

-

you woke up the next morning to a text from jack saying good morning, to which you replied with a simple, good morning. texting a new guy felt so wrong. you didn’t know what to do about it but you couldn’t ghost him so you figure you should just keep chatting and see what happens.

“lunch?” you say reading his next text. the boy asked you to lunch, to which you hesitantly agreed to join him. you made yourself a small breakfast to tide you until lunch. you sat on the couch watching tv, growing more nervous by the second. he didn’t ask you on a date, just lunch. maybe he just wants to be friends? after you ate, you put on a casual outfit and added a natural touch to your makeup. he texted the address and you left your apartment, hoping to arrive after him. once you arrive at the, what appears to be, small coffee shop, you’re greeted by jack smiling at the counter.

“sorry i’m a little late.” you laugh nervously.

“no don’t worry, i was just about to order. what do you want?”

“oh jack you don’t have to pay i can’t wait in line.” you say.

“now what kind of man would i be to let a pretty girl like you wait in line and pay for her own food?” he says boldly, a blush creeping up on your cheeks.

“an iced vanilla latte and a buttered croissant is good then.” you simply reply, finding a seat at a table by a large window. he meets you soon after, with a table number in his hand.

“you ever been here before?” he asks, noticing you staring out the window.

“i haven’t, i didn’t even know it was here until you told me about it.” you say redirecting your attention to the boy who already had his eyes on you.

“i come here sometimes, it’s like my special little spot for special occasions.” he smiles leaning back in his chair.

“what’s so special about this occasion?” you question, wanting real answers.

“it’s our first date.” he smirks causing your face to burn bright red.

“well i guess it is isn’t it.” you laugh.

-

once you arrive back at your apartment, you throw your purse to the side and kick off your shoes.

“what have i done? what do i do? oh fuck me, i can’t do this.” you say, that piece of your heart never healing from your past relationship. you couldn’t let go of the mistrust you felt. you never wanted to make the same mistake again, so you called dawson.

“hello?” you speak when he picks up.

“hey y/n, what’s up?”

“can you come over, i need advice.”

“yeah of course, send me your address and i’ll be there.”

“thank you so much, bye daws.” you say hanging up and sending him your address. you sat on your couch almost in a panic. you told yourself over and over to not do this again, especially this soon. a short 10 minutes later, you hear a knock on your door and you open it to see dawson standing there in his sweats.

“did i wake you from a nap?” you laugh.

“yes actually you did, but it’s okay, what’s up?” he says stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

“jack is what’s up.”

“oh?” he says plopping down on my couch.

“so we went out to lunch, he called it our first date.” you say.

“okay what’s the problem with that?” he says.

“you’re not understanding, my ex and i broke up what 3 weeks ago? i can’t move on, how do i know i can trust him?”

“y/n, jacks a nice guy, i wouldn’t have introduced you two if i thought otherwise.”

“i just think it’s too soon dawson.”

“relax, calm down, chill out.” he says standing up and placing his hands on your biceps.

“how am i supposed to be calm?”

“y/n, no one is rushing you into a relationship. you are not committed to the guy, you went on ONE date. you aren’t married to him, just relax. i know it’s hard, i don’t know all the details of your break up but obviously you let your mistrust cloud your vision of good people. i wouldn’t let you go down a dark rabbit hole, and you know that.” he says calming your nerves. dawson always had a way of getting to you and calming you down when necessary, even though it had been years since you last saw the boy.

“okay you’re right.” you say sighing.

“and you don’t have to worry, he’s leaving to go to michigan for a couple days tomorrow, so you can spend time away from him and just texting, so you can get to know him better without it being to serious for you.” he adds.

“perfect.” you laugh.

“now why don’t we chill out and watch a movie, you’re clearly stressed and i want you to clear your mind.” he states, grabbing the remote and switching on the tv. after a couple hours, dawson heads home, leaving you alone with nothing but your phone.

jack: hey i’m headed to michigan tmrw morning, hang when im back?

y/n: yes for sure!

jack: ok awesome, see you then

y/n: *loved a message*

you sat with your thoughts. you were terrified of the possibilities with jack, you couldn’t help it. it’s like your brain had been hardwired to push him away, but you fought the urge harder than anyone could ever know.

-

it had been about two weeks and jack returned from his trip a few days ago. the two of you have been texting nonstop. you learned the silly facts about each other and his personality shined through even on text. he was beginning to give you that glimpse of hope that you thought you’d lost for good.

“i just don’t know.” you spoke to dawson through the phone.

“he’s never texted a girl this long, he obviously likes you.”

“well you never know.”

“he has had women throw themselves at him and he’s rejected all of them. don’t you see it.”

“i do but i just don’t know if it’s the best idea.”

“y/n, just give it another go. go on another date with him. you won’t regret it, you and i both know that as much as you don’t want to admit that your crush is more than just a silly little crush.”

“god, daws you always know how to pick my brain what is wrong with you?” you laugh.

“um nothing, im just correct.” he scoffs.

“okay whatever, ill call him tonight okay?” you reply hoping it’ll shut him up.

“i’m holding you to it, so you better.”

“whatever mercer.”

-

“hello?” you hear a muffled jack on the other end of the line.

“hey jack, i was wondering if maybe you’d wanna go out again some time? i had a great time with you.”

“yeah absolutely!”

“does tomorrow work?” you ask, holding your breath.

“yeah i don’t have any plans. ill come pick you up at 1?”

“perfect.” you smile to yourself.

“i’ll see you tomorrow y/n.”

“bye jack.” you say hanging up the phone, wanting to scream with excitement. you had no clue how this could feel the way it does so soon after your breakup.

-

2 months later

“hey,” jack says shaking you awake.

“huh.” you groan opening your eyes.

“i have a skate to go to, ill be back okay?” he says, you fully processing your surroundings.

“oh, yeah okay. have fun.” you smile as he leans down to kiss you on the cheek. you’d stayed the night at his house just like you have for a few nights every week since your second date though you never established a label for your relationship, just placing the boyfriend name tag on him when you’re out by yourself, too afraid to use it around him. the idea of him leaving you to skate sucked, and you shoved down these feelings so they wouldn’t get in the way of anything. you never wanted him to leave your sight. you hated that you’d grown so attached. you pulled out your phone to call dawson, always filling him in with updates.

“hey miss hughes, what you up to?” he asks picking up.

“dawson stop,” you laugh, “i just woke up, jack just left for optional skate.”

“oh that’s funny i’m on my way there now.”

“i’m sure he’ll ive you all the details.”

“yeah he always does but you’re gonna tell me what’s going on in that little brain of yours first.”

“i hate when he leaves dude. i hate it. i feel like i have no right to be this attached. being around him makes me so fucking happy, it’s like all my problems disappear when he’s around. but i need to face it, he probably doesn’t even want me.”

“you’re lying but go on.”

“lying about what?”

“you really think he ever keeps girls around this long if he doesn’t wanna be with them? be for real with yourself y/n.” he says plainly.

“okay well, point is, i’ve grown attached and i don’t understand my feelings daws.”

“i think you love him.” he laughs.

“you’re crazy.” you scoff.

“did you listen to anything you just said?”

“what part?”

“god damnit, think before you speak y/n. the way you feel when you’re around him is love. practically in its exact definition.”

“it’s only been 3 months that i’ve known the guy.”

“bitch do you really think love has a timeline?”

“well n-“

“THEN GO GET HIM.”

“i’m not gonna go, he’s skating.”

“i meant it figuratively, just wait for him to come back and see how different you feel compared to talking to me on the phone. don’t leave. don’t panic and push him away y/n. give him a shot.”

“okay okay, ill talk to you later dawson.”

“alright, bye y/n.” he says hanging up abruptly. you knew deep down that he was probably right and you couldn’t admit it to yourself. you sat on his couch for a few hours, waiting to hear the lock turn again, when suddenly it did.

“oh hey, you’re still here? i thought you’d be gone by now.” he laughs, hanging his keys on the hook.

“no i wanted to stay, your couch is cozy.”

“well i’m glad you’re still here.” he says, kissing you on top of the head as he passed behind the couch. dawson was right, you felt giddy when jack entered the room, and the feeling didn’t settle. he returns back to the living room.

“you look like you’re thinking.” he says sitting down next to you. you sit up and turn to him.

“i am thinking.” you say, anxiety running through your body at full speed, knee bouncing.

“what’s on that pretty mind of yours?” he giggles placing a hand on your leg gently.

“i think i love you.” you say quietly, the words slipping off your tongue with struggle. you finally let yourself trip and fall. it felt almost freeing. his demeanor shifts as a smile grows on his face. he sits up to get closer to you.

“what was that?” he asks, smile growing wider.

“i think i love you. no no, i do. i do love you. i love you jack. i know we never attached a label to whatever we are but i can’t keep pushing my feelings away anymore. i just love you.” you say finally being able to lock eyes with him. he connects your lips in response, framing your cheek with his callused hand. when you pull away his gorgeous smile returns.

“fuck, i love you too y/n.” he laughs, a wave of relief washing over you. you couldn’t believe how jack changed your perspective on love and men so quickly but it never felt more true to you. you couldn’t deny your feelings anymore no matter how hard you tried. you finally let yourself fall, and thank god it was into the right hands this time.

-

[ticifics]

Hello! I saw you writing for vronsky and I was wondering if I could make a request. :) Vronsky is like my comfort character so I was wondering if you could do; vronsky with wife that has a hard time eating; afraid that he might not find her attractive anymore or something. Ofc he notices whether that is that her dresses are suddenly getting too big for her or not remembering the last time they had dinner together.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this feel free to decline! Also don't push yourself to write!

Sending loveee!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)

Perfect As You Are

Count Vronsky x fem!reader

Summary: "I just… I wanted to be perfect for you." He shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "You are already perfect for me. You always have been. You always will be."

Warnings: hurt&comfort, body image issues, fluffy - a madly in love Alexei showing how perfect his wife is

N/A: hey darling, i hope what i wrote can bring you some comfort when you read it <333 aaw, I made some small changes to the request, buuut nothing that changes things much - and i would like to say that each and every one of you are wonderful, so please be kind to yourself

The journey had been exhausting, and the month away felt like an eternity. Alexei Vronsky, usually impeccable in his composure, could hardly maintain it as the carriage drew closer to his estate. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that he was mere steps away from seeing you again, his chest felt too small to hold the longing that had been building inside him.

Upon entering the house, he left the luggage to the servants and was greeted by the housekeeper. The woman hurried to welcome him, but Alexei raised his hand, courteous yet firm. “Dinner will be served in the bedroom tonight,” he said, his voice steady but laden with expectation. He didn’t intend to waste a single moment away from you. With that, he ascended the stairs briskly, seeking the one person who had occupied his thoughts from the moment he had departed.

When the bedroom door opened, you were there. And the entire world seemed to stop.

You turned at the sound of the door creaking, surprise flashing in your eyes before it was overtaken by something else: a mix of relief and emotion only he could evoke in you. Alexei stood before you, more striking than any memory your mind could conjure. The blue uniform you so admired looked as if it had been tailored specifically for him, every line and detail accentuating his natural elegance.

Before you could say anything, he was already by your side, crossing the room with a sense of urgency that made you forget how to breathe. His hands found your waist, and in an instant, he pulled you against his chest. The unmistakable scent you had missed so many nights enveloped your senses, and before you could even react, his lips captured yours.

The kiss was intense, a mixture of longing and need. Alexei didn’t seem inclined to hold back, every gesture of his conveying just how much he had yearned for this moment. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up your back as though he needed to feel every part of you to believe you were truly there, real and within his reach again.

“My God,” he murmured against your lips when he finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath. “You have no idea how I dreamed of this… of you.” His thumb brushed against your cheek, and his gaze met yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He, however, seemed full of them.

“I thought I remembered everything,” he continued, his voice low and smooth, like a whisper meant only for you. “But I was wrong. Nothing I imagined could compare to you like this, standing before me—so beautiful… so mine.”

His words made your face burn, and you averted your eyes for a moment, unable to withstand the weight of his gaze. Alexei noticed, and a small smile played at the corner of his lips—that same disarming smile that always left you defenseless. He knew the effect he had on you, and he seemed to savor every second of it.

But then, something shifted. Alexei’s eyes, which had been locked on yours, began to drift, taking in details he hadn’t noticed at first. He saw how the dress that once hugged your figure now seemed slightly loose. Your shoulders appeared thinner, your collarbone more pronounced than he remembered, and there was a pallor to your face that wasn’t usual.

A faint furrow appeared between his brows, so subtle you almost missed it. But when he stepped back slightly to look at you more closely, the concern in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Alexei?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice wavered, betraying the nervousness rising within you.

His gaze snapped back to yours, and the intensity from before gave way to poorly masked worry. He hesitated, as though searching for the right words. But before he could say anything, you rushed to shift the focus.

“You should have let me know you were coming,” you said, forcing a smile and stepping away slightly, as if trying to create some distance. “I would have prepared to greet you properly. The house is a mess, and look at me…”

You tried to laugh, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a step closer, closing the distance again, and his hand moved to your waist, stopping any attempt to escape.

“Look at you,” he repeated, his voice low, almost a whisper, but so heavy with emotion it made your stomach turn. He cradled your face with a tenderness that contrasted with his earlier urgency, and his eyes found yours again. “I am looking. And I see the most beautiful woman who’s ever existed.”

The sincerity in his voice was overwhelming, and you felt a tightness in your chest. You wanted to believe his words, but the insecurities that had grown in his absence wouldn’t disappear so easily.

Alexei tilted his head, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he spoke. “You are everything I thought you were… and more. No absence, no time, no distance could ever change that.”

His words had barely left his lips before Alexei stepped closer again, his hands finding your waist with a firmness that spoke of a fear you might slip away. Before you could formulate a response, he lowered his head, and his lips met yours once more.

This time, the kiss was more urgent, almost desperate. Alexei seemed determined to convey everything words could not: the longing that had consumed every day of his absence, the desire that only grew with every thought of you, the insatiable need to have you as close as humanly possible.

His hand slid up to your nape, fingers threading into your hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Your knees weakened under the intensity of the moment, and the only thing keeping you upright was his arm, still firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you as though the world depended on it.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and laden with emotion, barely audible amidst the kisses he seemed unwilling to break.

You tried to respond, but it was impossible. He gave you no room for words, and, truthfully, you didn’t want to speak. Every touch of his was a confession, every movement a silent declaration. When his lips left yours only to trail along your jaw and down the curve of your neck, you closed your eyes, warmth coursing through your skin in waves.

“My God, I dreamed of this,” Alexei continued, his breath hot against your skin as his lips drew an almost reverent line along your neck. “Every night I spent away from you… All I wanted was to be here, with you, like this…”

His words were a mix of love and longing, each chosen as if to carve them into your very being. But there was something more. Even as his desire was palpable, there was a vulnerability in Alexei—a sense that he was trying to make up for lost time, to reassure himself that you were still his, as entirely as he was yours.

His fingers slid along your waist, moving up to the small space between your back and your dress, a touch that sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to give in. To sink entirely into his passion, letting him chase away all the thoughts that had consumed you in recent days. But at the same time, the unease that had settled in your heart over the past months stirred like an unwelcome reminder.

“Alexei…” Your voice came out almost as a whisper, broken by the rapid rise and fall of your breath. He paused, his lips still close to your skin, before lifting his gaze to yours.

His eyes were dark, intense, but above all, they held a tenderness that always made your heart falter. He didn’t say anything, waiting, as he always did, allowing you to set the boundaries.

You gently pushed his hands away, your breath still unsteady, though you tried to mask your unease with a small smile. “You must be exhausted,” you said, your voice slightly shaky as you met his gaze. “You should bathe… and rest. Tomorrow, we’ll have more time together.”

Alexei’s brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his features, but he stepped back. Even as the intensity still burned in his eyes, concern began to take its place.

“I waited for you for weeks, and now you want me to rest?” he asked, his tone almost playful, yet carrying a certain weight.

You smiled, looking away. “It’s because I want you to be well. Besides, I imagine the journey was long.”

For a moment, Alexei didn’t move, as if trying to decipher something in you. But then he sighed, always willing to respect the space you asked for, even if it pained him.

“As you wish,” he said at last, though before he released your waist entirely, he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, tender and full of affection. “But know this, my love—I am not a patient man by nature. And my absence has only made it worse.”

Heat rose to your cheeks again, and Alexei’s lips curved into a faint smile as he noticed, a glimmer of mischief lighting his eyes before he stepped back completely.

“I’ll bathe, as you’ve asked,” he said, already heading for the door. “But as for resting… that depends entirely on you.”

He cast one last look over his shoulder, so full of longing and tenderness that your heart quickened all over again. And then he disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone in the room, your lips still tingling from his touch and his words echoing in your mind.

The silence Alexei left behind as he exited seemed to echo through the room. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, but the feeling of suffocation only seemed to grow. Hesitantly, you walked to the mirror in the corner of the room, almost fearing what you might find.

The image reflected back wasn’t comforting. Your eyes lingered on your narrow shoulders, now accentuated by the loose fabric of the dress. The outline of your collarbone seemed more pronounced, and your face sharper. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. Your gaze drifted to your waist, slimmer than it had been a few months ago, but still nowhere near the silhouettes of other women. Even the corset couldn’t fix the problem. You bit your lower lip, feeling a knot tighten in your chest.

He didn’t notice, you tried convincing yourself. Or, if he did, he said nothing because he loves you, because he’s happy to finally be home. But what would happen when that initial happiness wore off? When he started noticing the details?

The memory of Alexei talking about the ladies he encountered at social events came to mind like a restless ghost. He’d never said anything malicious, but his comments — “a charming young woman, slender like a ballerina” — lingered in your thoughts. And now, standing before the mirror, you felt as if you’d never be enough.

Still, he had come back. He loved you, didn’t he? You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to cling to the happiness you should feel for his presence, but the tightness in your chest refused to subside.

Several minutes passed before you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. Turning, you saw Alexei standing in the doorway, and the sight made your heart falter.

He was no longer in his uniform, but the simple clothing — a white shirt open at the collar, revealing part of his chest, and linen trousers — did nothing to diminish his presence. If anything, there was something so intimately seductive about the way his damp hair fell messily across his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes traced the outline of his chest, the line of his jaw, the way the muscles in his arms were evident even beneath the simplicity of his attire. He was absolutely stunning, and the heat rose to your face before you could stop it.

“Admiring me, darling?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, low and teasing, with a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the look in his eyes told you he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

“No need to explain yourself,” he continued, walking toward you slowly, each step filled with a natural confidence that always left you breathless. “I remember very well how much you like looking at me like that.”

“Alexei…” you began, trying to sound reproachful, but his name came out more as a sigh than anything else.

“Yes?” He stopped right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. One of his hands rose to your face, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw before holding your chin, tilting it slightly so you had no choice but to look at him.

His eyes were locked on yours, and the smile he wore now was different—less playful, more serious, almost possessive. “You have no idea how beautiful it is to come home and find you here,” he murmured, his fingers still holding your face with tenderness.

Before he could say more, the sound of knocking at the door interrupted the moment. You instinctively stepped back, your heart racing for an entirely different reason. Alexei frowned slightly but turned toward the door with a casual ease.

“Come in,” he called, his voice returning to its usual calm, authoritative tone.

The door opened to reveal a maid carrying a tray. She seemed slightly nervous upon seeing Alexei there, but he only offered her a faint smile, a gesture that seemed to ease any tension.

“Leave it here, please,” he said, motioning to the small table near the fireplace.

The maid obeyed quickly, setting the tray down before offering a slight bow and leaving, closing the door behind her.

Alexei turned back to you, his smile now softer. “I asked for dinner to be served here,” he explained, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and mischief. “I want to savor every moment with you, uninterrupted.”

You tried to smile, but the weight in your chest didn’t completely lift. Still, when he extended his hand to you, there was something so earnest in his gaze that you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse.

You sat at the small table with Alexei, the aroma of dinner spreading through the room. He was seated directly across from you, so close that his presence was almost palpable, yet his gaze was even more intense. Alexei didn’t hide it; he was watching you, examining every detail with a focus that was both endearing and unsettling.

“Try this,” he suggested, carefully placing a piece of the nearest dish on your plate. “It reminds me of something you liked when we were in Moscow. I had it specially prepared for you.”

You smiled, or at least you tried to. The happiness of having him back and the guilt of not fully meeting his expectations waged a silent battle within you. You picked up your fork with slightly trembling fingers, brought a small bite to your lips, but as you chewed, something felt off. It wasn’t the taste—it was the sensation, as though the simple act of eating was something your body refused to cooperate with.

Alexei noticed. He always noticed.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, his tone casual, though a flicker of suspicion underlined his words.

“No, it’s wonderful,” you replied quickly, trying to sound convincing. “I just… ate earlier, I suppose I’m not that hungry.”

He nodded slowly, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “I see.”

Dinner continued—or rather, he ate while you barely touched your plate. Your posture remained stiff, shoulders tense, your movements restricted by the corset pressing tightly against your ribs, making every breath feel deliberate. You tried to focus on Alexei, on the small stories he shared about his trip, but even that felt heavy.

“Are you all right?” he asked suddenly, breaking the brief silence that had settled between you.

“I’m fine,” you answered too quickly, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just tired. You know how hectic these past weeks have been.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you knew Alexei wasn’t convinced. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze pinning you in place as if trying to unravel you.

“You’ve barely touched your food,” he said softly but firmly. “And there’s… something different about you.”

You averted your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest. “Alexei, please don’t start. You just got back, and I want to enjoy this moment, not turn it into something uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” His brows furrowed, irritation flickering in his expression, though concern softened his voice. “What’s uncomfortable for me, kroshka, is seeing you like this and not knowing why.”

“Like what?” you shot back, trying to sound defiant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed any semblance of strength.

“Thinner. More… distant.” He gestured toward you with a subtle motion, his strong fingers seeming to hesitate. “You’re trembling. You can’t even eat. What happened while I was away?”

“I told you, I’m just tired,” you insisted, trying once more to avoid his gaze, but he wouldn’t allow it. Alexei stood, moving around the table until he was kneeling beside you, his commanding presence somehow feeling tender in that vulnerable position.

He took your hand, his fingers warm as they enclosed yours, firm yet gentle. “Please, tell me the truth. Don’t hide this from me.”

Your chest tightened at the intensity in his eyes, the rare vulnerability Alexei almost never allowed to show. He was always the strong, confident man, but here, kneeling before you, there was something almost desperate in his posture.

“Alexei…” you began, your voice wavering. “It’s just… I just wanted…”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, patient yet urging.

“I wanted to be enough,” you finally confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The silence that followed was deafening. Alexei remained still, but you could see the way his jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t fully decipher.

“Enough?” he echoed, his voice so low it was barely a whisper. “You think you’re not enough for me?”

You didn’t respond immediately, unable to meet his gaze. But Alexei wouldn’t allow the distance. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a long, warm kiss to your trembling fingers.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly, though there was undeniable intensity in his tone. When you finally obeyed, his eyes burned with something that looked like anger—but not at you.

“You are everything to me,” he declared, his voice rough with emotion. “Everything. And it hurts me to think you spent even one moment believing you weren’t enough.”

His words, the passion in his eyes, hit you like a blow straight to the chest. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, shaking your head slightly. “You don’t understand… all those women you meet, so… so…”

“So irrelevant,” he interrupted, his voice growing firm again. “So insignificant compared to you. I could be surrounded by a thousand of them, and none would come close to you.”

He leaned closer, his face inches from yours, his words a warm caress against your skin. “If something about you has changed, it’s not because I wished it. Not because I wanted it.”

Alexei remained kneeling in front of you, as though the ground was the only place where he could bear the weight of what he was hearing. His eyes, always so full of an almost arrogant confidence, now held something that bordered on desperation.

"You don't understand," you murmured, your voice low and hesitant. "I just… I didn’t want you to look at me and see someone lesser. There are so many women out there, so… perfect. And I—"

"Stop that," he interrupted, his voice firmer now, though no less gentle. He leaned forward, taking your hands in his, his grip steady and grounding. "I’ve told you before, love. You are everything. There is no one who can compare to you. Not in beauty, not in strength, not in anything."

You tried to look away, but Alexei wouldn’t allow it. One of his hands rose to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness so profound it felt as though it could break down every wall you'd built.

"Please, tell me you know this," he implored, his voice trembling slightly. "Tell me that, deep down, you know how precious you are to me."

The tears you’d been holding back began to surface, burning at your eyes, but you shook your head stubbornly. "I wanted to be better," you whispered, the words bitter as they left your lips. "I wanted to be everything you deserve."

Alexei took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as though steadying himself against a torrent of emotions. When he opened them again, they burned with unshakable resolve.

"You don’t need to be anything but who you are," he said, his voice firmer now, though still laced with tenderness. He leaned closer, his hands cradling your face as his gaze bore into yours. "And if anyone dared make you feel otherwise, tell me, because I—"

Before he could finish, a sob escaped your throat. You tried to stifle it, but it was too late. The tears began to fall, and the weight of the pain you’d been hiding finally broke free.

"Alexei, I’m so sorry," you cried, your shoulders shaking as the words spilled out between your sobs. "I just… I didn’t know how—"

He didn’t wait for you to finish. Alexei pulled you into his arms, enveloping you with such care and tenderness it was almost overwhelming. Your face pressed against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you as his hand moved gently along your back.

"Shhh, love, it’s okay," he whispered against your hair. "It’s okay now. I’m here."

But as he held you, the trembling in your body and the uneven rhythm of your breathing became impossible to ignore. It was as though each inhale was a struggle, the corset squeezing the air from your lungs and turning every movement into an act of endurance.

"You can barely breathe," he said suddenly, the worry flooding his voice. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands steady but his eyes brimming with concern as they scanned your face and frame.

"Alexei, what are you—" you began, but he was already undoing the ties of your corset, his fingers moving with the precision of someone who had done this countless times before.

"Stay still," he instructed, his voice low but commanding. "I need to get this off now."

"But—"

"No buts," he cut in, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and worry.

The bindings began to loosen, and as the pressure around your torso released, relief flooded through your body, accompanied by a sense of raw vulnerability. When Alexei finally removed the corset completely, he sat back slightly, his gaze falling on what the fabric had hidden.

His eyes widened, shock and pain darkening his features. The deep red marks left by the constriction seemed to haunt him, his normally steady hands trembling slightly as they ghosted over the impressions on your skin, careful not to hurt you further.

"My God," he murmured, almost to himself. "What have you done to yourself?"

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. The lump in your throat was too large, the shame too overwhelming.

"Why?" Alexei asked, his voice breaking as his eyes found yours again. The anguish in his tone was almost unbearable. "Why, darling? What made you think you needed to do this?"

The tears returned, but this time, you didn’t hold them back. Alexei leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers traced the marks softly, as though trying to erase them with his touch.

"I failed you," he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. "Somehow, I failed you, and you suffered for it."

"No, Alexei, it’s not your fault," you managed, your voice trembling. "I just… I wanted to be perfect for you."

He shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "You are already perfect for me. You always have been. You always will be."

The weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, filled the space between you, every touch and every whispered assurance brimming with raw emotion. Alexei pulled you back into his embrace, holding you as though he could shield you from any pain, even if he couldn’t undo what had already been done.

"I will never let you feel this way again," he vowed, his voice steady despite the emotion. "Never again, love. I swear it."

Alexei held you with a tenderness that seemed meant to mend all the broken pieces inside you. He pulled you close again, as if wanting to erase any distance—physical or emotional—between you. The warmth of his body was a silent reminder that you weren’t alone, that you had never been, even in the moments when your heart insisted otherwise.

His fingers continued tracing invisible lines across your skin, now free from the suffocating grip of the corset. Each touch was delicate, almost reverent, as if he wanted to ensure you understood just how precious you were to him.

“You have no idea how much it hurts me to know you felt this way,” Alexei said, his voice low but filled with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes shining softly in the room’s light. “And worse, to know you did this to yourself because of me.”

“Alexei…” you tried to protest, but he shook his head, a sad smile curving his lips.

“Let me finish,” he gently requested. “Because I need you to understand.”

His eyes roamed your face, as though he were committing every detail to memory. The way his golden hair fell slightly over his forehead made him seem almost unreal, like he had stepped out of a painting. The intensity in his blue eyes was undeniable, as if every word he spoke came from a deep, unwavering place inside him.

“I will never stop wanting you,” he said, his voice soft but laden with sincerity. “No matter how you see yourself, no matter what you think needs changing. To me, you are perfect exactly as you are.”

Your face warmed under the weight of his gaze, and you looked away, trying to suppress the flush rising to your cheeks. But Alexei chuckled softly, a warm sound that wrapped around you like a blanket.

“Don’t look away from me now, love,” he teased, tilting his head to capture your gaze again. “I want to see those flushed cheeks. They’re one of my favorite things about you.”

“You talk too much,” you murmured, your voice tinged with a rare shyness.

“And you deserve every word,” he replied without hesitation, a smile spreading across his face in a way that stole the breath from your lungs.

His fingers rose to gently caress your cheek again, his eyes studying every nuance of your expression. “I could stay here for hours, just looking at you. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are to me? How every little detail makes me want to be closer?”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the smile threatening to break free. There was something about the way he spoke—so direct, so earnest—that made it impossible not to believe him.

“Alexei,” you began, but he tilted his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead, cutting off your protest.

“You’re the only thing that matters to me,” he murmured against your skin, his lips warm and sending a shiver down your spine. “Nothing in the world could make me want someone else. Not your appearance, not your attitude, nothing. I love you, kroshka, exactly as you are. And if you ever doubt that again, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving otherwise.”

His words washed over you like a tide, enveloping you completely. You couldn’t help it; tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t born of pain or sadness. They were tears of relief, of joy, of something deeper than you could name.

He smiled as he noticed, leaning in to press another kiss, this time to the corners of your eyes, as if capturing each tear before it could fall.

“See?” he murmured, his voice dripping with tenderness. “Even when you cry, you’re beautiful.”

You let out a shaky laugh, lightly pushing his shoulder in an attempt to hide your bashfulness, but Alexei only laughed again, a warm sound that seemed to light up the entire room.

“I love when you try to hide it,” he teased, his eyes glinting with what could only be described as pure adoration. “But you don’t have to. Not with me.”

The way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world, was almost unbearable in its intensity. But at the same time, it was comforting. It felt, for the first time, like you could let go of all your insecurities and simply be.

When he pulled you back into his arms, you found yourself relaxing against him, your heart slowing to a calmer rhythm. The warmth of his body, the safety of his embrace, the softness of his words… everything felt right, as if this was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Promise me you’ll never hide from me again,” Alexei softly requested, his lips close to your ear. “Promise that next time something weighs on you, you’ll let me carry it with you.”

“I promise,” you replied, your voice quiet but genuine.

And there, in his arms, as the night wrapped around you in its tranquil embrace, you felt like you could finally believe it.