#be nice to her she is fragile

[divine-veins]

[razables]

fwiends…

[sami-ca]

[ID. A drawing of Sei, a young woman with brown skin and very curly teal hair tied in a large bun over her head. She has silver ring earrings and glasses, a bright smile and wears a sparkly golden dress with shoulderless puff sleeves and some gold accents. End ID.]

princess! i heard you have a date?

(@aromanticsky 's Sei)

OH WAIT LAST MINUTE EDIT:

[ID: The same drawing, but now there is a brown square as the background and the lineart is more vibrating. /end ID.]

overlay lineart ily

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash

Chapters 36-37

Had it been like that in the iron coffin?

Aelin gave no indication that the smothering dark bothered her, and had shown no inclination to illuminate their way. Hadn't even summoned an ember.

But the Little Folk, it seemed, had come prepared. And within heartbeats of entering the pitch-black river passage, blue light had kindled on a lantern dangling over the curved prow. Not light, not even magic. But small worms that glowed pale blue, as if they'd each swallowed the heart of a star. They'd been gathered into the lantern, and their soft light rippled over the water-smooth walls. A gentle, soothing light. At least, for her it was so.

Before Aelin had been given an ancient Faerie Queen's crown, her birthright and heritage.

The queen had stashed Mab's crown in one of their packs, as if it were no more than an extra sword belt. She hadn't spoken, and they had not asked her any questions, either.

Instead, she'd spent these past few hours sitting in the back of the boat, studying her unmarked hands, occasionally peering into the black waters beneath them. What she expected to see beyond her own rippling reflection, Elide didn’t want to know.

He'd crawled after Maeve on the beach to save Aelin. And he had found her during her escape-had ensured Aelin made it out. Did it wipe away what he'd done in summoning Maeve in the first place? Even if Maeve had set the trap, even if he hadn't known what Maeve intended for Aelin, did it erase his decision to call for her?

The last time they'd spoken as friends, it had been aboard that ship in the hours before Maeve's armada had arrived. He'd told her they needed to talk, and she'd assumed it was about their future, about them.

But perhaps he'd been about to tell her what he'd done, that he'd been wrong in acting before Aelin's plans played out. Elide stopped twisting the ring.

He'd done it for her. She knew it.

But the queen sitting silently behind them, no trace of that sharp-edged fire to be seen, nor that wicked grin she'd flashed at all who crossed her path ... Two months with a sadist. With two sadists. That had been the cost, and the burden that Aelin and all of them would bear.

That silence, that banked fire was because of him. Not entirely, but in some ways.

The collar had not been real. But the army Maeve had summoned was.

A blink into the gloom was the only indication that he was aware of her every movement. Aelin breathed in his scent, let its strength settle into her a bit deeper.

Their paths would meet again, or they would not. And if he found the final key and then brought it to her, she would pay what the gods demanded. What she owed Terrasen, the world.

Yet if Dorian chose to end it himself, to forge the Lock ... her stomach churned. He had the power. As much as she did, if not more so.

It was meant to be her sacrifice. Her blood shed to save them all. To let him claim it ... She could. She must. With Erawan no doubt unleashing himself on Terrasen, with Maeve's army likely to cause them untold grief, she could let Dorian do this. She trusted him. Even if she might never forgive herself for it. Her debt, it was supposed to have been her debt to pay.

Perhaps the punishment for failing to do so would be having to live with herself.

Having to live with all that had been done to her these months, too.

The blackness of the subterranean river pressed in, wrapped its arms around her and squeezed.

Different from the blackness of the iron box. The darkness she'd found inside herself.

A place she might never escape, not really.

Her power stirred, awakening. Aelin swallowed, refusing to acknowledge it. Heed it.

She wouldn't. Couldn't. Not yet. Until she was ready.

She had seen Rowan's face when she spoke of what his deception with the collar had prompted her to do. Had noted the way her companions looked at her, pity and fear in their eyes. At what had been done to her, what she'd become.

A new body. A foreign, strange body, as if she'd been ripped from one and shoved into another. Different from moving between her forms, somehow. She hadn't tried shifting into her human body yet. Didn't see the point.

Sitting in silence as the boat was pulled through the gloom, she felt the weight of those stares. Their dread. Felt them wondering just how broken she was.

You do not yield.

She knew that had been true—that it had been her mother's voice who had spoken and none other.

So she would not yield to this. What had been done. What remained. For the companions around her, to lift their despair, their fear, she wouldn't yield.

She'd fight for it, claw her way back to it, who she'd been before. Remember to swagger and grin and wink. She'd fight against that lingering stain on her soul, fight to ignore it. Would use this journey into the dark to piece herself back together-just enough to make it convincing.

Even if this fractured darkness now dwelled within her, even if speech was difficult, she would show them what they wished to see.

An unbroken Fire-Bringer. Aelin of the Wildfire.

She would show the world that lie as well. Make them believe it.

Maybe she'd one day believe it, too.

Days of near-silent travel passed.

Three days, if whatever senses Rowan and Gavriel possessed proved true. Perhaps the latter carried a pocket watch. Aelin didn't particularly care.

She used each of those days to consider what had been done, what lay before her.

Sometimes, the roar of her magic drowned out her thoughts. Sometimes it slumbered. She never heeded it.

They sailed through the darkness, the river below so black that they might as well have been drifting through Hellas's realm.

She hadn't asked him why he remained in his wolf's body. No one asked her why she remained in her Fae form, after all.

Rowan straightened, eyes sparking at her question-or at the fact that she'd spoken at all.

He'd kept by her these days, a silent, steady presence. Even when they'd slept, he'd remained a few feet away, still not touching, but just there. Close enough that the pine-and-snow scent of him eased her into slumber.

Silence at the order, even from Rowan. Aelin pointed to the lip of shore by the cave mouth. "Stop the boat," she repeated.

The queen had been reckless before Cairn and Maeve had worked on her for two months, but it seemed she'd had any bit of common sense flayed from her.

"Well, I don’t have any, so forgive me if I remain alert." No, she'd once told him that while magic flowed in the Lochan bloodline, she had none to speak of. He'd never told her that he'd always considered her cleverness to be a mighty magic on its own, regardless of Anneith's whisperings.

"It will take time for her to readjust."

She stared at him with those damning eyes.

He braced his forearms on his knees. "We got her back. She's with us now. What more do you want?" From me, He didn't need to add Elide straightened.

Elide straightened. "I don't want anything." From you.

This was where they'd have it out, then. "How much longer am I supposed to atone?"

"Are you growing bored with it?" He snarled.

She only glared at him. "I hadn't realized you were even atoning."

"I came here, didn't I?"

"For whom, exactly? Rowan? Aelin?"

"For both of them. And for you." There. Let it be laid before them.

"I told you on that beach: I want nothing to do with you."

"So one mistake and I am your eternal enemy?"

"She is my queen, and you summoned Maeve, then told her where the keys were, and you stood there while they did that to her."

"You have no idea what the blood oath can do. None."

"Fenrys broke the oath. He found a way."

"And had Aelin not been there to offer him another, he would have died." He let out a low, joyless laugh. "Perhaps that's what you would have preferred."

She ignored his last comment. "You didn't even try."

"I did," he snarled. "I fought it with everything I had. And it was not enough. If she'd ordered me to slit your throat, I would have. And if I had found a way to break the oath, I would have died, and she might very well have killed you or taken you afterward. On that beach, my only thought was to get Maeve to forget about you, to let you go-"

"I don't care about me! I didn't care about me on that beach!"

"Well, I do."

This was what came of opening that door to a place inside him that no one had ever breached. This mess, this hollowness in his chest that made him keep needing to make things right.

"Resent me all you like," he said, damning the hoarseness of his words. "I'm sure I'll survive."

Hurt flashed in her eyes. "Fine," she said, her voice brittle.

He hated that brittleness more than anything he'd ever encountered. Hated himself for causing it. But he had limits to how low he'd crawl.

He'd said his piece. If she wanted to wash her hands of him forever, then he would find a way to respect that. Live with it.

Somehow.

Gratitude shone in her eyes.

Rowan only gave her a nod. Don't worry about it.

Yet Aelin turned away, shutting off that silent conversation as she surveyed the space.

Time. It would take time for her to heal.

Even if he knew his Fireheart would pretend otherwise.

So, Rowan looked, too. Across the tomb, beyond the sarcophagus and treasure, an archway opened into another chamber. Perhaps another tomb, or an exit passage.

"We don't have time to find a way out,"

Rowan murmured as she strode into the tomb.

"And the caves remain safer than the surface."

"I'm not looking for a way out," she said in that calm, unmoved voice. She stooped, swiping up a fistful of gold coins stamped with forgotten king's face. "We're going to need to fund our travels. And the gods know what else." Rowan arched a brow. Aelin shrugged and shoved the gold into the pocket of her cloak. "Unless the pitiful clinking I heard from your coin purse didn't indicate you were low on funds."

That spark of wry humor, the taunting … She was trying. For his sake, or the others' maybe her own, she was trying.

Rowan gave the Lion a slashing grin. "You heard the lady."

A flash ruptured from where Fenrys had been sniffing at a trunk of jewels, and then a male was standing there. His gray clothes worn, but intactin better shape than the hollowed-out look in his eyes.

Aelin paused her looting.

Fenrys's throat bobbed, as if trying to remember speech. Then he said hoarsely, "We needed more pockets." He patted his own for emphasis.

Aelin's lips curved in a hint of a smile. She blinked at Fenrys—three times.

Fenrys blinked once in answer.

A code. They'd made up some silent code to communicate when he'd been ordered to remain in his wolf form.

Aelin's smile remained, just barely, as she walked to the golden-haired male, his bronze skin ashen. She opened her arms in silent offer.

To let him decide if he wished for contact. If he could endure it.

Just as Rowan would let her decide if she wished to touch him.

A small sigh broke from Fenrys before he folded Aelin into his arms, a shudder rippling through him. Rowan couldn't see her face, perhaps didn't need to, as her hands gripped Fenrys's jacket, so tightly they were white-knuckled.

A good sign—a small miracle, that either of them wished, could be touched. Rowan reminded himself of it, even while some intrinsic, male part of him tensed at the contact.

A territorial Fae bastard, she'd once called him. He'd do his best not to live up to that title.

"Thank you," Aelin said, her voice small in a way that made Rowan's chest crack further.

Fenrys didn't answer, but from the anguish on his face, Rowan knew no thanks were in order.

They pulled away, and Fenrys cupped her cheek. "When you are ready, we can talk."

About what they'd endured. To unravel all that had happened.

Aelin nodded, blowing out a breath. "Likewise."

She resumed shoving gold into her pockets, but glanced back to Fenrys, his face drawn. "I gave you the blood oath to save your life," she said. "But if you do not want it, Fenrys, I ... we can find some way to free you—"

"I want it," Fenrys said, no trace of his usual swaggering humor. He glanced to Rowan, and bowed his head. "It is my honor to serve this court. And serve you," he added to Aelin.

She waved a hand in dismissal, though Rowan didn't fail to note the sheen in her eyes as she stooped to gather more gold. Giving her a moment, he strode to Fenrys and clasped his shoulder. "It's good to have you back." He added, stumbling a bit on the word, "Brother." For that's what they would be. Had never been before, but what Fenrys had done for Aelin .. Yes, brother was what Rowan would call him. Even if Fenrys's own—

Fenrys's dark eyes flickered. "She killed Connall. Made him stab himself in the heart." A pearl-and-ruby necklace scattered from Gavriel's fingers.

The temperature in the tomb spiked, but there was no flash of flame, no swirl of embers.

As if Aelin's magic had surged, only to be leashed again.

Yet Aelin continued shoving gold and jewels into her pockets.

She'd witnessed it, too. That slaughter.

But it was Gavriel, approaching on silent feet even with the jewels and gold on the floor, who clasped Fenrys's other shoulder. "We will make sure that debt is paid before the end." The Lion had never uttered such words not toward their former queen. But fury burned in Gavriel's tawny gaze. Sorrow and fury.

Fenrys took a steadying breath and stepped away, the loss on his face mingling with something Rowan couldn't place. But now wasn't the time to ask, to pry.

Aelin continued picking her way amongst the treasure, however. She'd been more selective than the rest of them, examining pieces with what Rowan had assumed was a jeweler's eye. The gods knew she'd owned enough finery to tell what would fetch the highest price at market.

"We should go," he said. His own pockets were near to bursting, his every step weighed down.

She rose from a rusted metal chest she'd been riffling through.

Rowan remained still as she approached, something clenched in her palm. It was only when she stopped close enough for him to touch her that she unfurled her fingers.

Two golden rings lay there.

"I don't know the Fae customs," she said.

The thicker ring held an elegantly cut ruby within the band itself, while the smaller one bore a sparkling rectangular emerald mounted atop, the stone as large as her fingernail. "But when humans wed, rings are exchanged." Her fingers trembled-just slightly. Too many unspoken words lay between them. Yet now was not the time for that conversation, for that healing.

Not when they had to be on their way as swiftly as possible, and this offer she'd made him, this proof that she still wanted what lay between them, the vows they'd sworn ...

"I assume the sparkly emerald is for me," Rowan said with a half smile.

She huffed a laugh. The soft, whispered sound was as precious as the rings she'd found for them in this hoard. She took his hand, and he tried not to shudder in relief, tried not to fall to his knees as she slid the ruby ring onto his finger. It fit him perfectly, the ring no doubt forged for the king lying in this barrow.

Silently, Rowan grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. "To whatever end," he whispered.

Silver lined her eyes. "To whatever end." A reminder-and a vow, more sacred than the wedding oaths they'd sworn on that ship.

To walk this path together, back from the darkness of the iron coffin. To face what waited in Terrasen, ancient promises to the gods be damned.

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I'll make the tattoo again." She swallowed, but nodded. "And," he added, "I'd like to add another. To me—and to you."

Her brows flicked up, but he squeezed her hand. You'll have to wait and see, Princess.

Another hint of a smile. She didn't balk from the silent words this time. Typical.

He opened his mouth to voice the question he'd been dying to ask for days now. May I kiss you? But she pulled her hand from his.

Admiring the wedding band sparkling on her finger, her mouth tightened as she turned over her palm. "I'll need to retrain."

Not a single callus marked her hands.

Aelin frowned at her too-thin body. "And pack on some muscle again." A slight quiver graced her words, but she curled her hands into fists at her sides and smirked at her clothes—the Mistward clothes. "It'll be just like old times."

Trying. She was dredging up that swagger and trying. So he would, too. Until she didn't need to any more.

Rowan gave her a crooked grin. "Just like old times," he said, following her out of the barrow and back toward the ebony river, "but with far less sleep."

He could have sworn the passageway heated. But Aelin kept going.

Later. That conversation, this unfinished business between them, would come later.

[cavinginhisfvce]

may i present to you all a...fem!jey uso!! in this trying time 🏃🏽‍♀️

(i was nervous af to post this but w.e we do what we want round here!!!!)

she's my baby and is happily dating cody, sami, rhea AND dom; they all love their pretty gf

can i also say how mad i am that jey and cody lost their titles like i knew it would happen but why so soon?! 😭

[cluescorner]

Somebody please post Canto 5 Part 2 ASAP I am no longer playing the game but I'm keeping up with it through videos + posted logs and I NEED TO HEAR ISHMAEL GOING ALL AHAB ON US

[goldennika]

not to be all dramatic on main but a MOA i met at their dome show in Osaka last year added me to her close friends list/stories on instagram 🥺

[palettepainter]

HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS?? TUMBLR SHAME ON YOU!! SHAME ON YOUR TUMBLR FOR A THOUSAND YEARS!!

Bobby hates sleeping on her own, she often sleeps next to Doey (either leaning on him, or if Doey is laying down, ontop of him) and if for whatever reason Doey isn't around when she wants to sleep, she stays up as much as she can until he returns.

The reason for Bobby's anxiety when sleeping alone - and more so the dark when sleeping - is due to when she was being experimented on and kept in her cell. While she can not recall much of her life before or during being experimented on, she still feels the fear. Due to this Bobby will rarely fall asleep or nap around any other toy in Safe Haven aside from Bobby

Buuut Bobby is at heart still a kid, and is prone to sometimes conking out if she is especially exhausted, lady OC belongs to @chibifox2002, mum vibes and the feeling of safety from an adult work wonders for an anxious kid

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT/COPY/TRACE

[alygator77]

── try again

a/n. i've been sitting on wanting to create a small scene like this for a while now. so here ya go! lemme tell ya'll... breastfeeding is not always this magical and beautiful thing that people make it out to be. it hurts like hell, my bloody nipples can attest.

cw: domestic fluff. angst with comfort. satoru's trying to make breastfeeding easier for you.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice tight with frustration. “She won’t latch.”

You’re trying not to cry.

Looking down at your newborn, you can see her frustration—tiny fists clenching, soft, hungry cries spilling from her mouth as she wriggles restlessly in your arms. You shift again, adjusting her position, cradling her closer, trying—begging—for something to click.

But it doesn’t.

Her mouth bobs and searches blindly, cheeks flushing red with effort, and the desperation building in her fragile little body mirrors your own.

“I—I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you choke out, blinking hard as tears blur your vision.

You’re exhausted. Beyond it. The sleepless nights at the hospital. Your body aches in places you didn’t even know could hurt. And this—this thing that was supposed to be natural, instinctual, beautiful—feels awkward and impossible—like a test you’re failing over and over again.

“Please, baby girl…” your voice trembles as you guide her to your breast one more time. “Just—c’mon—o-ow!”

She latches, but it’s wrong. A searing pain shoots through your chest and you flinch, instinctively pulling her away. Your nipple throbs—red, sore, screaming for relief. With a shrill cry, your baby’s tiny face crumples in protest, and your own tears finally fall—hot and helpless.

“Why is this so hard?” you whisper, voice cracking as you hold her close, shaking.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re doing everything right.”

Satoru's voice is low behind you—steady, but laced with worry.

His hands come to rest gently on your shoulders, warm and trembling, his thumbs moving in slow circles like he can massage away the frustration knotting in your muscles.

“She’s only a few days old…” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, lips lingering in your hair. “She’s still learning. Fuck… we are too.” He exhales shakily. “You’re doing the best you can, sweetheart. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He straightens, blue eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for something—anything—to help.

“What can I do? Do you need anything? Where’s that—hang on—where’s that damn pillow thing…?” he mumbles, and you watch through watery eyes as he scrambles, clumsily grabbing the nursing pillow, adjusting it like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box. His movements are uncoordinated, frantic—but full of love.

Satoru kneels beside you as you try again, baby blue eyes flicking between your face and your daughter’s, willing the pieces to fall into place.

"C'mon baby girl... be nice to your momma for me, yeah?"

But when your little one latches again and you gasp, pulling her off with a pained cry, your resolve shatters.

“I—I can’t do it Satoru!” you say, brokenly. “I can't get her to latch, and when she does… it just hurts. So much.”

You feel like a failure. How can you not feed your baby?

As you look up at him through watery lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks, Satoru's expression cracks. He nods quickly, white brows furrowing as his lips press into a tight line, like he’s holding back the helplessness swelling in his chest.

“I know, baby. I know. Just… wait one sec.”

He’s on his feet in an instant, practically tripping over the edge of the rug as he rushes across the room. A moment later, he’s back—dragging a stool with one hand and clutching a spare pillow in the other. Dropping down in front of you, he crouches low, gently lifting your legs and placing them on the makeshift footrest.

“There,” he murmurs, positioning the pillow with care. “Put your feet up. Maybe if you’re more comfortable…”

Satoru fluffs the nursing pillow again with extra care, tucks the baby’s blanket around her tiny frame, then grabs your water bottle from the side table—uncapping it as he gently places it in your hand.

“C’mon momma... gotta stay hydrated.”

His voice is hushed, but purposeful. You sniffle, taking a sip of water, and he's shifting back toward the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder.

“Um… do you want a snack? I think there’s some of those lactation cookies in the kitchen…" his blue eyes flick back to you, and you see the gears turning in his head. "Or... I can make you something? Or—shit—I’ll Postmate something! What do you want? Fuck, I’ll Postmate everything if it’ll help.”

A tired, wet laugh escapes you—half amusement, half relief. “Great..." you wipe the tears from your eyes, smiling softly. "Now you’re spiraling too...”

He huffs out a sheepish breath, dragging a hand down his face as he plops beside you again. “Yeah… yeah, I am definitely spiraling.”

Reaching up, he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, fingers grazing your temple with featherlight tenderness.

“You’re in pain...” he murmurs, blue eyes shimmering with concern. “And... I feel helpless just standing here. I can’t feed her. I can’t fix this…” he pauses, lips dropping into an exaggerated pout. “My nipples are completely useless, by the way.”

A choked, breathless laugh escapes through your tears, and his entire face softens at the sound, like it’s the only thing that’s mattered all day.

“What?” he grins. “It’s true. I’ve got nothing going on up here. Decorative at best. Yours, on the other hand—” he gestures with a flourish, “—doing heroic work. Damn sexy, too. Just sayin'.”

You roll your eyes through the blur of tears, laughing again, and lean into the warmth of his palm as it cradles your cheek.

It still hurts. You’re still exhausted, still raw, still aching in every possible way.

But in this moment—wrapped in Satoru's love, soothed by his gentle chaos and relentless care—you don’t feel quite so alone.

And somehow, with him by your side, you find the strength to try again.

And again.

And again.

Until finally… you get it right.

[hearts4hughes]

ೃ࿔:･ bsf!rafe is a ‘gentleman’?

“he opened the door for me.” sofia says it all dreamy, like it means something. like it’s rare, fragile, and blooming with potential.

you don’t even look up from your phone. “mm,” you hum. “he’s been doing that since he was thirteen.”

sofia blinks and scratches the back of her neck. “seriously?”

sarah snorts. “it’s true. he used to forget, and she’d just stand there in front of the door with this little princess expression until he realized.”

“okay-” you cut in, glancing up finally, a little smug. “it wasn’t like that.”

���oh my god, yes it was,” sarah says. “you wouldn’t move until he circled back like a sad little butler. even my mom started calling him your footman.”

you roll your eyes but don’t deny it because it was kind of true. it started small in the second grade. at the school doors, you just… paused and expected, with your foot practically tapping the ground. rafe, confused but eager to impress even then, jogged back and opened it. you smiled and he lit up.

then it was car doors…and pulling out your chair…and standing on the traffic-facing side of the sidewalk. not because you asked, but because you expected. you’d grown up around the kind of southern men who took off their hats when they walked inside and never let women pump their own gas.

and rafe just adapted. he learned your world like it was a second language. you never noticed. not until girls like sofia started fawning over “how sweet” he was.

you didn’t have the heart to tell them he still slammed doors when you weren’t around. that his idea of flirting was practically insults and bruised knuckles. that the only reason he even knew to grab your coat when it was cold was because the one time he didn’t, you gave him the silent treatment for an hour.

“he brought me a drink before i even asked,” sofia adds now, hopeful. “that’s sweet, right?”

you shoot sarah a look. she doesn’t even try to hide her laugh. “he only does that because of her.”

“what?”

“i mean, come on. you think he was out here reading etiquette books? he learned all that shit from being around her twenty-four-seven.”

sofia falters. “i…guess that makes sense.” her cheeks burn with something unusual.

you hum again, biting back a smile as you scroll. because rafe may be a lot of things—loud, reckless, occasionally unhinged—but to you, he’s always been the guy who brings your favorite snacks when you’re pissed. who pulls you behind him in a crowd without thinking. who mutters “careful, babe” every time you trip over your own feet, even though he’s the reason the hallway lightbulb’s still out.

and when he walks in ten minutes later, sweaty from god-knows-what and shirt halfway untucked, he barely glances at sofia. he sees you on the couch, sees your blanket slipping, and without a word, tugs it up over your shoulder before dropping down beside you.

you smirk. he doesn’t notice. but sofia does and for the first time, she finally gets it. rafe doesn’t do those things because he’s nice. he does them because he was raised on your standards. even if he never says it, you both know the truth…

if rafe cameron’s a gentleman, it’s only because you trained the beast yourself.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy @drewrry @urcoolgf @thegirlnextdoorssister @sydneysslove @dsfault @missabsey @ivysturnss @kisses4rafey @katiebby04

[p1girlfriend]

the grid reacts to dating the internet’s favorite paddock princess

lando norris ── .✦ you trend every time you post. the comments are just people begging to be adopted by you both. lando scrolls through your edits while grinning like a fool.

“i swear you have more fan accounts than me.” starts doing get ready with me tiktoks just to feature you in the background. one time he jokingly commented “hands off she’s mine” under your post and your followers made merch out of it. he bought it.

oscar piastri ── .✦ someone calls you “the queen of soft paddock aesthetic” and he saves it. you’re known for hugging the grid girls and handing tissues to nervous kids.

“they like you because you’re nice,” he teases. but you catch him watching a fancam of you waving at fans with a dumb little smile. he once said “she’s the best part of my Sundays” in an interview and didn’t even blink.

charles leclerc ── .✦ you smiled once on the paddock and the internet made it a meme. your hair, your outfit, your hand holding his — they dissect everything.

“they think you’re an angel,” he says. “they’re wrong?” “non. but they don’t know you kick me in your sleep.” you get asked to do red carpets solo. he gets pouty. “don’t forget your plus one.”

lewis hamilton ── .✦ you get called “mother” on the internet and he thinks it’s the funniest thing. “mother’s in the paddock, everyone be cool.” he brags about you in interviews but in a soft, heartfelt way. you hold his hand when he’s overwhelmed. he holds your waist when the cameras get too much.

“she’s got the kindest heart i’ve ever known.” stop it. he’s in love.

carlos sainz ── .✦ you post one photo in a red dress and the comments are unhinged.

“carlos sainz’s girlfriend?? no. SHE’S the main character.” he acts like it’s normal. shrugs. “obviously she’s their favorite. look at her.” but then watches every edit. every time. he’s smug, but the way he blushes when you blow him a kiss at the track? baby.

daniel ricciardo ── .✦ calls you “paddock royalty.” also calls you “my hot little menace.” posts goofy pics of you with captions like “don’t be fooled. she runs this entire circus.” you once got mobbed by fans and he yelled “BACK UP, SHE’S FRAGILE” while holding your purse.

“the people love you.” “so do you.” “true. but i saw you first.”

max verstappen ── .✦ acts unbothered until someone says you're “out of his league.”

“you think i don’t know that?” max is constantly giving you forehead kisses and opening doors. you softened him and the internet knows. your hand on his chest? your smile from the pit wall? they call you “the calm behind the storm.” he never says much about it. just watches you and whispers, “stay.”

gabriel bortoleto ── .✦ his fanbase instantly loves you. like scarily fast. someone posts a video of you fixing his collar before a photo and it hits 2 million likes.

“vocês são o casal mais fofo do grid.” he pretends not to blush. makes you your own race day playlist. walks you into the paddock hand-in-hand, lets go only when he’s in the car. “ela é meu talismã.” (and now that's your nickname.)

franco colapinto ── .✦ the internet sees you together and instantly calls you “the sunshine wag.” he laughs at it, but deep down? yeah. you're his sun. starts wearing little accessories you gave him. you wave to the fans and he stares at you like you hung the moon.

“they love you, you know?” “you jealous?” “nah. they just don’t know you the way i do.” you’re the lockscreen. the lucky charm. the softest part of his race weekend.

©p1girlfriend | requested | requests open!

[botanicsoul]

Don’t Meet Your Heroes

Pro Hero | Izuku Midoriya x Fangirl (Fem) Reader

-> I will NEVER stop writing menace Izuku because there is absolutely NO WAY someone that nice, that polite, that sweet is not secretly a freak. You don’t save the world with a smile and then go home and knit. No—you choke your girl out while she wears your merch and thank her for letting you. —Anyway, enjoy🥳

ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍

You didn’t expect much when you walked up to the table—just your hero crush smiling at you for five seconds before you moved on like everyone else.

But when his eyes lifted and locked onto yours, time stretched. You offered him the homemade fanart you’d printed on glossy paper. “It’s silly, but… I wanted you to sign it.”

His freckled cheeks went pink, and he gave you that smile. “It’s not silly at all. It’s cute.”

His fingers brushed yours when he took it. “Hey… mind if I ask something kinda bold?”

You blinked. “Yeah? What’s up?”

He scribbled something in the corner of the poster and slid it back. A phone number.

“Text me. If you want to talk more. Or… I don’t know. Grab a coffee?”

Your heart practically launched out of your chest.

Of course you texted him.

Coffee turned into dinner. Dinner turned into your back hitting his apartment mattress—staring up at him, wide-eyed, wondering how the sweet, bashful hero who wore a cardigan on your little date now had your legs pinned wide open… your wrists bound above your head with his utility belt.

At first, he kissed you like you were fragile. Hands shaky. Voice soft. Whispers of “you sure?” between every breath.

But the second you moaned his name and rocked your hips into his?

A switch flipped.

And suddenly the man above you wasn’t the one who smiled for cameras. He fucked you like he’d been starving. Like he’d been good for too long and now he needed to ruin something sweet.

He rutted into you slow and deep—possessive, gritting through every thrust like he hated how much he needed it.

“You thought I’d be gentle, didn’t you?” he muttered, slamming into you hard enough to make the headboard crack.

“Thought I’d blush and stutter while I fucked you?” He leaned down, lips dragging along your jaw. “No, baby. I earn my rewards.”

Your legs shook. He was everywhere—biting your neck, sucking marks onto your chest like he wanted the world to see, you were a moaning mess while he’s choking you just enough to make you dizzy.

“You moan like you want the whole city to hear you,” he growled. “You like this? Being fucked by your favorite hero like a filthy little fan girl?”

You gasped, nails digging into your palm.

He chuckled low, voice dark. “You’re soaked. Can feel it drip down my cock every time I pull out.”

“Please—” you barely got the word out before he was on you again, teeth gritted like he was holding back something brutal.

He paused, just to thrust harder. “I’ve saved lives, baby,” he snarled into your neck, “but I’d let the city burn if it meant I got to come back to this cunt.”

Your body snapped tight, your orgasm crashing into you with no warning—and he felt it.

He growled, rough and wrecked. “Good girl. Fuck—milk it. Soak me. Show me how much this pussy loves me.”

And when you finally went limp, body shaking, eyes glassy? He leaned down and kissed you like he hadn’t just destroyed you.

Then he pulled out, slowly, watching his cum leak from your pussy onto the sheets.

He groaned. “Next time I fuck you, wear my merch.”

You blinked up at him, fucked-out and blinking.

He grinned, all teeth. “The one that says Property of Pro Hero Deku. I wanna see it when I make you cum on your knees.”

[plethorawrites]

Imagine Jason Todd, who hates feeling weak and tries to avoid anything that seems frail or fragile learning to love bubble baths because his girlfriend. It starts slow at first, of course, with him learning she likes them and occasionally gifting her some nice soap or salts whenever they fight or he just wants to. Then they move in together and he realizes just how many she takes.

And it wouldn't bother him if it wasn't for how long she spends in the bathroom while he lays in bed at night or cooks breakfast in the morning. When she forgets a towel one day, she calls for him to bring it to her and he, of course does without complaining.

Then, the second he walks into the bathroom he sees her covered in bubbles with her damp hair sticking to her face which was flushed from how hot the water is. He smells the aroma of the vanilla soap that makes the entire, humid room, smell amazing. When she stands up, brushing the bubble from her skin to take the towel from him, his mouth is completely dry.

And she can tell.

So, the next time she takes a bath she asks him to join. 99% of the time, he'd refuse. He hates baths. But sitting in one with her? With her skin slick and soapy, having complete access to her neck...? He caves quickly.

He's surprised by how much he enjoys it—running a wash cloth over her legs or having his hands tangled in her hair to wash it. It becomes his favorite way to relax.

As much as he loves taking care of her, feeling her draw patterns on his thighs or reach up to scratch his scalp is the most precious form of intimacy to him.

The best part, though?

When they're both clean and the bubbles are slowly popping as the water cools from nearly scalding to mildly warm, like a comforting blanket. He'll wrap his arms around her as she leans her back against his chest, her head tilted back on his shoulder and her arms holding his as he holds her.

He'll brush the wet hair off her exposed neck, softly kissing and nuzzling her neck and shoulder, not to rile either of them up, but just because he likes how her wet, soft skin feels under his lips and enjoys hearing the soft sighs and content hums she makes as the water sloshes every couple of seconds when she rubs her legs against him while they're intertwined.

No, actually, that's the second best part. The first is hearing how quiet and sweet her voice is when she says she loves him and how easy it is for him to whisper it back in her ear before kissing her cheek.

[xhyjin]

next door neighbour dilftoji! who, ever since his late wife died shortly after the birth of their only son, megumi, had fallen into bad habits of gambling, drinking, and smoking. he was anything but a good or present father, leaving his son on the front steps of the zen’in clan headquarters. as much as he pretended he wasn’t grieving, he was, and everyone could easily tell. it wasn’t until one day, when he saw his late wife in a dream, telling him to get her son back—to be a father, the man she once knew—that he instantly sobers up and takes his son back from the hands of the clan.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who decided that if he wanted to start anew, he would have to change his surroundings. everything around him reminded him of his late wife, and as much as he loved her, she was holding him back. he spoke to his friend and former handler, shiu kong, about neighborhoods that would be good for a peculiar child like megumi and a place where he could start fresh with no reminders of the past. shiu recommended his own neighborhood—where you just so happened to live.

next door neighbour dilftoji! he moved into your quiet neighborhood with anything but quiet. his voice—loud and commanding—echoed as he yelled at the movers to handle fragile items with more care, all while keeping his son from darting in front of them. it was 7 in the morning when you first heard the noise: his voice, the trucks backing in, the hustle of the move. without even meeting him, you already found yourself annoyed.

you stumbled out of your house, robe loosely hanging around you and your hair a mess from a restless morning disturbed by the commotion. standing on your front steps, you watched the chaos unfold next door, trying to spot the source of that deep, gruff voice. as soon as your eyes landed on him, he locked eyes with you. you shook your head, muttering under your breath, and turned to walk back inside.

next door neighbour dilftoji! after a few hours of getting everything safely into his house, toji decided he would make a good first impression with his new neighbors. he was starting a new life, so even if baking cookies and bringing them to a neighbor was something he’d never normally do, it didn’t matter—because that toji was gone. this was the new toji, a man willing to take risks and leave behind regret.

he had already forgotten your brief moment of eye contact that morning, so when you opened your front door mid-phone call, you weren’t expecting to find him and his son standing there with a box of cookies. the smell was unmistakably fresh, lingering sweetly in the air.

“hi,” toji said, attempting a polite smile that contrasted sharply with his scarred lip and imposing, muscular frame. “my name’s toji fushiguro. this is my son, megumi. we just moved in next door and wanted to introduce ourselves.”

you stared at him in silence for a moment, stunned. you hadn’t expected your loud, irritating neighbor to look so… handsome. and muscular. you’d barely seen him earlier that morning.

“i’m going to have to call you back,” you said, lowering your phone. finally, you replied, “uh, it’s nice to meet you. i’m y/n.” your eyes fell to the box in his hands. “is that for me?”

“oh, yeah,” he replied, glancing briefly at megumi before handing the box to you. “me and megumi baked cookies for you.”

next door neighbour dilftoji! who ever since his brief interaction with you, toji found himself growing more curious about you as each day passed. he noticed you had a job, seeing you leave early in the morning while he was helping megumi into the car for school, and return later in the evening when he sat on the porch, watching megumi play with the neighbourhood kids, yuji and nobara.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who runs into you at the grocery store. megumi sat quietly in the cart while toji stood in the produce aisle, holding a bunch of bananas in one hand and strawberries in the other, debating which to buy. he didn’t even notice you until you cleared your throat.

“hi, toji,” you said shyly, giving him a small smile.

“hi, y/n,” he replied, surprised but glad to see you.

“tough choice?” you teased, glancing at the fruit in his hands.

“yeah,” he admitted with a small chuckle.

“i’d go with bananas. if they go bad, you can always make banana bread,” you suggested, making him laugh.

“good thinking,” he said, placing the bananas in the cart with megumi. from that moment, the rest of the grocery errand turned into something unexpected. the two of you wandered the aisles together, chatting and getting to know more about each other. toji found himself smiling more than he had in a long time, and by the time you both reached checkout, he realized he wouldn’t mind running into you like this more often.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who feels so bad when he has to ask you to babysit megumi on your one day off from work. something unexpected had come up, and he needed to return to the city but couldn’t leave megumi alone. knocking on your door, he stood there with megumi beside him.

when you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see him. “toji, hi,” you said, glancing between him and megumi. “what’s going on?”

“y/n, i’m so sorry. i know this is your day off, but something came up, and i need to get back to the city. i couldn’t find a babysitter last minute. could you please watch megumi? i promise he’s a good kid—no trouble at all,” he said, his tone almost pleading.

“yeah, sure,” you replied without hesitation, opening the door wider for them to step inside.

“i’ll be back early morning,” toji assured you. you nodded. “do you want my phone number?” his expression shifted, almost surprised. “yeah, that’s a good idea,” he said, handing you his phone.before leaving, toji crouched to megumi’s level. “don’t misbehave, alright? i’ll be back for you.” after giving megumi a quick pat on the head and thanking you again, he headed out the door.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who kept true to his word and returned early the next morning, flowers in hand. when you opened the door, still half-asleep, you greeted him with a tired, “hi, toji,” rubbing your eye with one hand.

“hey there, doll,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he quickly cleared his throat. “uh, can i come in?”

you didn’t seem to notice the slip-up and stepped aside to let him in. “megumi’s still sleeping,” you said, your gaze finally landing on the bouquet in his hand. “are those for me?”

he smiled, nodding as he handed you the flowers. “yeah, to thank you for being there for me.”

you took them, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “they’re beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in to smell them.

“i didn’t know which were your favorite,” he admitted, “so i picked the ones i thought were the most beautiful… almost as beautiful as you.”

you froze for a moment, cheeks heating up further as you glanced down at yourself—disheveled hair, wrinkled pajamas, and all. “beautiful? me?”

“yes, beautiful,” he said with a chuckle.

“hope the kid wasn’t too much trouble,” he added, changing the subject.

“no, he’s a good kid—very sweet and polite,” you assured him, toji nodding in agreement.

he hesitated for a moment before speaking. “listen, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“yeah?” you asked, placing the flowers down and filling a vase with water.

“i want to properly thank you for this. do you maybe want to go on a date?”

you looked up at him, wide-eyed. “a date?”

“yeah, i mean… if you want to,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically nervous.

your lips curved into a small smile. “i’d love to, toji.”

his face lit up. “great. are you free thursday?”

you nodded, and his grin grew wider. “a date on thursday with the most beautiful girl in the world,” he said, making your heart flutter.

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Dreamcatcher

Dpxdc Prompt #26

All vigilantes get bad dreams. Of the ones they couldn't save, the criminals that got away, even of their fellow heroes dying. When you take up the cape you are practically signing an agreement for nightmares to haunt your sleep.

It's apart of the job, no matter how terrible.

One night after a long patrol, when the Bats were all dreading sleep, it was Steph that brought it up.

"We should get dreamcatchers. Hang em up on our doors, they'd help."

No one responded immediately, every single one of them knew that was a pipedream, including Steph.

"If it makes you feel better, go for it Steph." Dick finally obliged, after a too-long awkward silence.

When the intricate dreamcatchers appeared on the doors to their bedrooms a week later no one took them down. They all had ways to cope and if Steph giving all of them dreamcatchers gave her comfort who were they to deny it? Plus it was nice to have a bit of hope, no matter how fragile.

They didn't expect the dreamcatchers to actually work.

Danny had been dragged, beaten, and broken beyond repair by the GIW. He barely escaped their clutches with his half-life still intact and ran off to the closest city he could find, Gotham.

He built a life there, and slowly but surely the threat of the GIW only appeared as a background thought of his waking mind. It was a different story, however, when he was asleep.

They still hurt him every night, only difference was they weren't there to document it and look at him like guinea pig.

So Danny, like the problem-solver he was, made his own solution. After a few too many close calls with Nocturn he had found a way to infuse dreamcatchers with just enough ectoplasm to make them actually work. If they could repel an ancient ghost what was a few bad nightmares? He didn't have money to spare to buy one so he made his own and hung it up by his door.

He started sleeping better, with no nightmares of his own to haunt him, but that didn't mean his nights stopped being interrupted by screams. Not his own, no, apparently living in a city with so much crime and grime could lead to it's own traumatic experiences.

His neighbor's daughter had been kidnapped and trafficked, only recently brought back into his custody. She was 5 and Danny's heart broke every time he woke up to her shrieking.

So he made her a dreamcatcher too.

And then she told some of her friends who had also been hurt by someone, because who in Gotham hadn't, and they requested some dreamcatchers from him as well.

Word spread and soon Danny had a suitably profitable business on his hands.

He didn't charge much, most of his clientele could barely afford food, but he still needed to eat too.

Then the vigilante Spoiler came up to him and asked if he did custom orders.

Danny could see the hope behind the white eyes of her domino, desperation from years of built of pain and suffering.

"No usually, no, but if it's for the heroes of Gotham I can make an exception."

[cherrygirlfriend]

EXCUSES & CONSEQUENCES 𐂂

𐂂 pairing: fragile fawn!reader x rafe

𐂂 summary: rafe pretends to be sick to his friends so he can spend time with you.

𐂂 warnings / tags: fluff.rafe punches someone.

𐂂 author's note: for the anon who requested this… LET ME TAKE A LOOK AT YOUR BRAIN!!!

FRAGILE FAWN 𐂂 RAFE MASTERLIST

‘yo you coming to the bonfire?’ rafe read the message on his phone screen that he’d received from topper, letting out a small groan. “what is it?” you asked with a smile, looking up at rafe as you continued picking berries.

“nothing.” he shrugged, ‘can’t. got mono.’ he types, sending it to his friend and pocketing his phone again, “what are we doing with all these berries?” rafe asked, continuing to pick blueberries from the bushes, one by one.

“blueberry pie.” you smiled softly, “blueberries are my favorite.” “how come?” rafe questioned, making you shrug, “i think i like how different they all are. y’know, they’re supposed to be the same thing but they’re all shaped differently, and they all taste different. some of them are bitter and some of them are sweet.” you smile softly, looking to rafe, “just like people.”

“that’s cheesy as hell.” rafe stated, making you chuckle softly. “you bake a lot?” “sometimes.” you mused as you poured the blueberries into the wicker basket you’d brought with you, “my grandmother loves baked goods.”

“your grandmother?” rafe picked some blueberries, “yes. i live with her.” “how come?” “i’m not very close to my parents.” you shrug, “but my grandmother was always nice to me. she taught me about her practices and and she was… so radiant.” “practices?” “yes.” you smile at him, “my grandmother is pagan. she told me that when my mother was growing up, she’d always roll her eyes at her practice, so she appreciated that i was interested in it.”

“are you pagan, then?” “no.” you shrugged, popping a blueberry in your mouth, turning to look at him, “i don’t think i could ever limit myself to one religion. i believe in everything.”

“there you go again. being all hippie and shit.” “is it a problem?” you look to him with a slightly amused smile. rafe takes a moment before replying, “nah.”

later, rafe’s walking you home, one of his hands tucked away in his pocket while the other carried the wicker basket filled with blueberries. god, how he wished he was driving right now. that morning, rafe had called and asked you when he should pick you up, only for you to tell him that you ‘don’t like cars’ and that the two of you had to walk to the damn field.

“rafe, what do you think you were in your—” “yo, rafe!”

your sentence was interrupted by the sound of someone’s voice coming from behind you, and when you looked to rafe, his jaw was clenched, the boy staring forward.

“thought you were sick.” a blonde boy stepped in front of you two, accompanied by another boy and two girls. “what’s up, man?”

“topper, leave it.”

the boy, topper, chuckled, his gaze turning to you before going back to rafe’s, “you’re hanging with this freak? what the fuck, man?”

“topper, i told you to drop it.”

“what were you doing, huh?” topper cocked his head to the side, “was she teaching you how to sacrifice goats? did you make soup out of baby kitt-”

before the boy could finish his sentence, he was punched to the ground with a loud grunt leaving his lips and shocked gasps leaving his entourage.

your eyes widened, watching as rafe shook his right hand, “told you to fucking drop it, dumbass.” he said, taking your hand and pulling you away from them.

the rest of the walk to your getaway in be woods was long and quiet, but when you finally arrived in front of your home, you took rafe’s injured hand in yours, small bruises on the knuckles that had made contact with topper’s face.

“are you alright?” you looked up at him, rafe’s heart practically melting at your doe eyes laced with worry. he brushed it off, chuckling, “i’m good.” rafe held out the heavy basket of blueberries, “but bring me some blueberry pie when it’s done?”

you smiled, taking the basket into your hand. getting onto your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “deal.” and just when rafe thought you were going to leave, you took his hand in yours, and brought it to your lips, kissing the knuckles that had fucked up topper’s face.

rafe watched as you walked towards the house, a small smile playing on his lips. when you got to the door, you turned around to wave at him. for some reason, a simple kiss on the cheek and a wave caused his heart to beat faster. the boy waved right back at you, watching as you disappeared inside and letting out a sigh.

he was in trouble.

TAGLIST: @raahosh @purpleplumpudding @rafesheaven @esotericcangel @mattyskies @dollyfiles @bakugouswaif @littlelamy @izumis-salty-penis @nonietosay @my-name-is-baby @tinythebunni @cameronsbabydoll