#and helped me out so so much the past two years

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier 

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 

Gosh, he was so cute. 

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 

Zayne 

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 

So, what did you decide to do? 

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well. 

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 

Rafayel 

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 

He was also so easy to fluster. 

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 

“Huh?” 

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 

“Again.” 

Now, it's your turn to be confused. 

“Raf, what–” 

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 

Okay, you got this. 

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 

“Sure, kitten.” 

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

[quaithe-seastar]

Let The Light In

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: You try to help Aemond relax when the world outside your shared bedroom becomes too much for him to handle.

Warnings: slight angst & fluff

A/N: This fic is incredibly self-indulgent, as I am deeply infatuated with Aemond's hair. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!

The soothing, gentle sound of crackling wood from the fireplace echoed in the air. The shadows of the flames danced along the walls of your and Aemond’s shared bedchamber. Lately, though, it seems like it’s just yours. Your husband had decided to sleep in his own private quarters for the past week. Something that perturbed you deeply. 

This week has been filled with the most restless nights you've had in years, leaving you thoroughly exhausted. You had grown quite accustomed to sleeping in Aemond’s strong arms. The two of you had never spent a night apart since your wedding night two years ago. The marriage had been arranged, of course, but the two of you had quickly become besotted with each other. 

Has your spark faded so soon?

You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. Surely, you were just overthinking things. Aemond had his hands full with the threat of war looming on the horizon. It made sense that he would have little time for you. That was just something you would have to learn to accept.

You let your eyelids fall closed as you continue to run the brush through your hair. The day had quickly come and gone. The hour of ghosts was quickly approaching. You prayed that sleep would come easier tonight. Your poor mind and body craved a peaceful night's rest.

You jump on the small cushion bench you have been sitting on as your bedroom door slams open and closed—Aemond storms into the room. You watch quietly as he paces the room, mumbling angrily in high valyrian. You try to gauge what he is saying, but he is talking too quietly and far too quickly for you to understand. Even with the lessons Aemond and Maester Orwyle have given you over the past year and a half, it was nearly impossible to comprehend Aemond when he spoke so quickly.

You call him, but he ignores you. So you try again, this time much louder. His back is turned to you. You watch as he slowly turns, his eye wandering about the room as if it were some foreign place. You squirm in your seat when his gaze finally falls upon you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought I had gone to my room.”

Your heart sinks at the thought that he no longer considers this his room.

“It is yours, just as much as it is mine,” you shrug.

“Of course,” he mutters sheepishly, shuffling his weight back and forth on his feet.

“Has something happened?” You ask, hoping to draw him into a conversation before he tries to flee.

With an exasperated sigh, Aemond moved to the bed, sitting at the edge. He clenched the blanket tightly in his hands. The two of you sit in silence. You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from badgering him with questions. He’ll never talk if you do that. The minutes feel like hours, but soon, he speaks.

“My mother is angry with me,” he says quietly. 

I should have known, you thought. You were well aware of the strain growing between your husband and good-mother since he had returned from Storm’s End. Since the murd- the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Your heart aches for your husband. You know how close Aemond was to his mother and how much she meant to him. No doubt, the distance between them was significantly affecting him.

“She blames me for starting this war. As if she and my father's council have not been plotting to usurp the throne for years,” he scoffed.

His voice was laced with anger and frustration. You want nothing more than to go to him. To reach out and soothe him, but you're afraid he will leave. This was the most time he had spent with you in a week. You were desperate for his attention.

“The realm is preparing for a war the likes of which Westeros has never seen. She is afraid.”

“Aren’t we all?” He snickered.

The two of you sat in silence. Aemond rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. He seemed so small, almost like a child. Your heart grew heavy, weighed down by your worry and concern for your sweet husband. You wanted to help him, but you did not know how—or if he would even let you.

Your fingers twitch, curling around the brown wooden brush handle in your hand. You look down at it. A smile spreads across your lips as an idea finally comes to mind. You turn around, placing the brush down on the table before turning back towards him.

“Come here,” your soft voice cuts through the silence. You beckon Aemond closer with your hand.

Aemond lifts his head. The man looks at you apprehensively, his eye flickering towards the door. For a moment, you fear he will run, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a slight nod and pushes himself up from the bed. You stand just as he’s about to reach you and quickly step aside. You gesture towards the cushioned bench, instructing him to sit. He hesitates but follows your instructions.

 Aemond sits up tall on the bench, his body tense and rigid. His violet eye watches you in the mirror as you step behind him.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to his eyepatch.

His face goes pale, and for a moment, you regret asking. Perhaps you were overstepping. Though before you can apologize, he nods his head. Your heart skips a beat, overjoyed that he still trusted you enough to see him like this. You have to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

You try to steady your trembling fingers as you loosen the eyepatch strap. Your eyes flicker towards the mirror. He isn’t looking at you anymore. Instead, his violet eye is closed. He flinched, and his brows knit together as you pulled the eyepatch off his head. You freeze, unsure if you hurt him or he is just uncomfortable. It had been years since he had lost his eye, but it still caused him some discomfort.

“Are you alright?” You asked. 

He blinks, eye flickering towards you. He watches you, no doubt waiting for some sign of disgust or repulsion. But you give him none; you never have. In your eyes, he was perfection. You do your best to look at him with all of the genuine concern and admiration that you can muster.

“I-,” his voice cracked. He blushed and quickly cleared his throat. 

“I’m fine.” He answered, more assuredly this time.

You nod, leaning over his shoulder to carefully place the eyepatch on the table. Your finger moved back to his hair, gently tugging on the tie that held his hair away from his face. Thankfully, it slips off with ease. His hair falls forward, curtaining around his face. 

You gather the hair off his neck, drawing it onto his back. A soft sigh escapes him as your fingers graze against the sensitive skin of his neck.

You reach over his shoulder again, picking up the brush you had been using moments ago. His single eye falls closed as the brush touches his head. You go slowly, trying to be careful of any knots and tangles, though there are none. The brush skims through his silver tresses with ease. You find yourself growing envious, thinking of all the times you and your handmaids have had to wrestle with your hair. 

His hair shines like beaten silver under the candlelight. The sight is almost hypnotic. You continue with your work, letting the brush run through his silver strands again and again. Little by little, his facade crumbles, and his body relaxes under your touch. After a while, you put the brush back on the table. 

You massage his scalp with your fingertips. Aemond’s head is tilted back just a bit, and a soft hum echoes from his throat. The sound reminds you of a cat purring. You smile, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Carefully, you remove your fingers from his hair before brushing through it one more time.

“Would you like me to braid it?” You ask.

“Yes, please,” he answers.

You nod and get to work. You don’t do anything too extravagant, just a simple three-strand braid. Once you are finished, you lean down and press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“All done,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he replies, sleepily.

You expect him to get you and leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he spins around on the bench. His large hands gently take hold of your hips, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that you almost missed it.

“For what, my love?” You ask, gently caressing the side of his face with your fingertips.

“For this ... distance between us.”

“Oh,” you hum. “It’s fine. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he mumbles. “I have been-”

You shush him and place a gentle kiss on his scarred brow. “All is forgiven.”

His lips part as he prepares to argue, but he doesn’t. He closed them and nodded, silently thanking you for your forgiveness. Silence takes over the room again, but it’s more comfortable this time. Aemond rubs circles on your hips, through your thin nightdress, with his thumbs.

“Perhaps I shall rest here tonight?” He suggests, avoiding your gaze.

“I would like that,” you smile.

Aemond stands, and you help him undress before the two of you make your way back to your shared bed. Your husband climbs into the bed after you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your back is pressed against his bare chest, and almost immediately, you can feel your mind at ease.

“I love you,” he whispers against your hair.

You try to say it back but cannot, as sleep pulls you away from the waking world. You squeeze his hand in yours and hope he understands.

[gotinterest]

Education in the Gaza Strip Under Bombardment

Eman (whose fundraiser I have been boosting for the past few months) and I message each other about once a week, and she's been telling me about how her family- like many others in the strip- are working hard to continue their young children's education despite the massive destruction of infrastructure by zionist forces.

There is no formal school. The buildings are ruined or used as shelters. Constant displacement makes the sort of organization needed to run formal classes with any kind of consistency an impossibility. Instead, the parents and teachers have to take things into their own hands.

Eman tells me that teachers- from both Gaza and Egypt- share resources through schooling groups online to help parents teach their children. Eman's two elementary school aged children, Taim and Tia, are currently getting educated through the exercises and lessons that the teachers have shared in these groups.

Eman, herself, is also helping out by acting as an English teacher for a small group of children that live close to her tent. She tells me that the kids are all very excited to learn and shared some pictures with me of a few of the children (including Tia) and their recent school work.

This is Tia with her two friends, Kareem and Malak

Tia and Kareem are the same age and are still very young and aren't quite ready to learn the alphabet yet. Instead, they are practicing drawing shapes and lines to get them used to writing with pencils.

Malak is a year older than them so she is learning some basic numbers and counting.

I wanted to share this with you all because I know that when we look at the news we see nothing but darkness from Palestine, and that makes it easy to feel as though the situation is hopeless.

The people of Gaza have not given up hope. They are still preparing for the future. They are still doing everything they can to not just survive, but truly live. There is still so much left to fight for. Protest. Share and donate to fundraisers. Speak about Palestine. Organize. The best treatment for that feeling of dread is action.

[Please consider donating to Eman's Fundraiser: Link]

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ‘n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝

[hannyoontify]

casual - yoon jeonghan [teaser]

member | childhood best friend!jeonghan x fem!oc

genre | fluff, angst and angst and lots of angst, childhood best friends to ????

teaser word count | 1k (full fic est. 12k)

synopsis | throughout her childhood, jeonghan was the one constant in jeong-ah's life. he was her rock and she was his, but there was always an unspoken tension between the two, something that made jeong-ah's stomach flutter and her pulse race. was it casual, like jeonghan said? or was there a possibility of being something more?

warnings | none (in teaser)

notes | inspired from this post i made a while back! bc this was inspired by events that happened irl, i had to make it an oc so that things made sense (like their names)

“You should ask me why we’re in here instead of sleeping like everyone else.”

I let out a sigh that ended in a laugh. “Okay, Jeonghan. Why are we in here instead of sleeping like everyone else?”

Jeonghan immediately straightened his back and turned his body to face me, and I mirrored his movements. The way he looked at me with shining, excited eyes reminded me of the same 5-year old who enjoyed pulling on my pigtails and playing hide-and-seek.

Despite growing a lot in the past decade together, there were still some parts of Yoon Jeonghan that never seemed to change. For example, that mischievous look on his face whenever he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Wait here.” Jeonghan disappeared outside and I couldn’t help but smile at his excited, almost child-like demeanor. Resting my head against the wall, I looked up and saw the sloped ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

The door soon opened again and Jeonghan reappeared with a single cupcake, a match, a candle, and two mini party hats. “I know we all got in trouble with our parents today so we can’t celebrate New Year’s, but I still wanted to do something for you. I know how much you love New Year’s celebrations.”

It was true. When all six of us had gotten in trouble earlier that evening because Jeonghan convinced all of us to try and help him set up a booby trap in his grumpy neighbor's backyard involving popping firecrackers, I was greatly disheartened when our parents decided that our punishment would be a bedtime of 9:30 and no New Year’s celebration.

I was particularly more upset than others because my parents had promised me a year ago that this New Year’s celebration would be the year where I finally got to try champagne.

“Jeonghan, I-” I faltered. I couldn’t find the words to describe how grateful I was to have him at that moment. 

Jeonghan scrambled to sit in the empty spot next to me. “You can thank me and be impressed later, just put this hat on. We only have a minute left.” He snapped on his own party hat before sliding its identical piece over my own head.

With a shaky hand, Jeonghan struck the match and lit the candle that was stuck atop the cupcake. We had made these cupcakes earlier today, with the help of our siblings. It had always been a tradition of ours.

My family would go over to the Yoon family’s house for the New Year’s and we would spend the night. Jeonghan, his older brother, and I were the older ones so we usually resorted to playing video games, board games, and baking while our younger siblings played with toys or watched TV. Our time together was always fun and a big highlight of my winter break every year.

But two years ago, when Jeonghan and I kissed in the summer, something changed. Our conversations became more stiff and awkward and he seemed to avoid me and my text messages more often.

When I consulted my mother about this situation (minus the kissing part), she had laughed and told me, “It’s because both of you are going through puberty now. It’s okay, it’s natural! Your relationship is going to return to normal in no time.”

Albeit it did take two years and a global pandemic for the two of us to be back on speaking terms again, but I was thankful to have my best friend back.

Jeonghan looked at me with a bright smile as he softly began to count down, his phone propped up against the wall so we could keep an eye on the clock. The single flame of the candle seemed to reflect the hundreds and thousands of stars that Jeonghan held within his eyes. His long lashes fluttered against his pale cheek bone and that tear-shaped mole on his right cheek that I had always been fond of. 

“Five… four…” I joined him in the count down, our hands holding the small cupcake together. 

I’d grown to accept the fact that Jeonghan wanted to pretend that kiss never happened. I did a lot of thinking and reflecting to realize that it was our silly pre-pubescent emotions that had gotten the best of us in that moment. It never meant anything.

“Two… one! Happy new year!” Jeonghan cheered. “One, two, three!”

11 years of friendship helped me to immediately recognize Jeonghan’s intent when he began counting again.

When he reached 3, the two of us blew at the single candle and the flame flickered for a moment before it disappeared, leaving a small trail of white smoke in its wake. Jeonghan pulled the candle out of the cupcake and I dipped my finger into the frosting and smeared it across my best friend’s cheek.

Jeonghan smiled with a mischievous glint in his eyes before dipping this thumb into the white frosting and spreading it across my forehead. “Simbaaaaa.”

We both erupted into a fit of childish giggles as I tried to smear another glob of dense, sweet frosting onto his face, but he dodged my hand successfully. But because Jeonghan was blessed by the genetic gods and had much longer arms than I did, he was able to reach over and smudge another spot of white frosting onto the top of my nose.

“Ewww!” I cried loudly.

Jeonghan tried to shush me but it was too late. We heard a door upstairs opening, and a pair of footsteps moving down the stairs. Jeonghan and I held onto each other with bated breaths and when we heard the footsteps slowly fade away, we let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Maybe they’re just grabbing water or some-” As Jeonghan whispered into my ear, the doorknob of the small door rattled and opened, revealing Mrs. Yoon, half disheveled with a face mask.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to suppress the giggle that was threatening to erupt as Jeonghan fumbled to find the right words. “H-hi, mom. We were just-”

“Out. Both of you. Now.”

Uh oh.

PLEASEEE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

and as always, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 78

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Sunday, April 10th – Manchester Airport.

I've never been so excited to go on vacation. I'm sitting next to Lucy, holding her hand. We're waiting for our flight. Jenni and Alexia dropped us off an hour ago after we ate together, and now we're alone. It's soothing to be just the two of us, especially after the past few weeks.

"Excited?" Lucy whispers to me.

"Oh yes."

"It will be well-deserved."

We exchange a smile. After nonstop studying, tests, mock exams, and even working at the gallery with Grace for two Saturdays... Yes, I think it will be well-deserved. I've worked hard, but I don't regret it. It helped lift a huge weight off my shoulders. At least I've secured my spot at art school for next year. That's something. Now, as agreed with Lucy, I must step away from my studies for two weeks. It's difficult because my diploma is still on my mind. I worked hard, and I think I did quite well on my mock exams this week, but you never really know. In the meantime, I promised to make the most of these two weeks, so I’m trying not to think about it. The only thing I need to focus on is Lucy and our families.

"I was thinking we could go camping," I shared with Lucy.

"Camping, huh?"

"Yeah. We've talked about it so much. It would be a great opportunity. Or at least spend the evening on the beach! Oh my God, I’ve missed that so much," I said excitedly. "With a campfire, marshmallows, and—"

"Hey," Lucy laughed. "Relax. We'll have all the time to do whatever you want. It seems work has gotten to your head, huh?" she teased, running her hand through my hair.

"Are you making fun of me?" I asked, pouting.

"Oh no," she smiled mischievously.

"That was the deal, remember? I had to give it my all until vacation and then calm down afterward."

"That’s true. You didn’t sneak any study materials into your suitcase, did you? Maybe I should have checked."

"Stop," I giggled. "I wouldn’t do that."

"Oh no. That's not like you at all."

I laughed harder and playfully slapped her thigh at her irony. It's true I thought about it, but I didn't do it. I really want to enjoy this relaxing vacation. After all, we're going back home.

"Hey, none of that," she said, intertwining our fingers after my playful slap. "We have to endure almost 3 hours together in the air, so let’s not start hitting each other."

"True, but we'll sleep through half of it, so you don’t have to worry."

"Speak for yourself. You're a real napper."

I smiled. It's hard to argue with that. I enjoy being calm in moments like this. Finally, boarding time arrives. This is going to be a long trip. My six-hour flight back to Barcelona will seem like nothing compared to the nineteen hours we're about to face, with a layover, no less. We settle into our seats after passing through security. It's a shame, but I won’t see Shay here. She explained that she tries to be on the Barcelona flight as often as possible because her boyfriend lives there.

"Do you take this trip often?" I asked my girlfriend, gazing out of the window.

I’m eager to take off, but also nervous. I've never liked flying to Portugal. I wonder how Lucy feels about it. I remember she's not particularly fond of flying either.

"I think I’ve told you before," she answered. "I visit my parents twice a year… although, that might change next year."

"Why? Because of me? Please don't say that. I haven’t even met your parents yet, and they're going to hate me."

"Why are you getting so worked up?" she laughed. "Of course not. The venue will take up a lot of my time. I'll have other things to do than visit them. They'll just have to come to me for once."

"Okay," I murmured.

"Are you still nervous about meeting them?"

"A little…"

"Everything will be fine, I promise."

I smiled as she brought my hand to her lips. She makes me feel like everything's going to be okay. It’s crazy.

"Come on, get some rest. The trip is long, so you might as well recharge."

"Doesn’t it bother you...?"

"Sweetheart, you’ve been pushing yourself hard for three weeks. I know you’re tired. Rest, this is your time."

"Okay," I murmured. "Promise you won’t let me sleep too long though? I don’t want to leave you alone for the entire trip."

"Sweetheart, don’t worry about that. Sleep. We’ll have plenty of time to enjoy each other’s company when we land."

She nudged me to rest my head against her. I smiled and settled into a comfortable position. It’s true, a little rest wouldn’t hurt. I’ve been going non-stop. It’s time to relax, but before that... she’s right. I need some rest.

"Thank you," I murmured as I watched the takeoff through the window.

My eyelids felt heavy after half an hour. I tried to stay awake to keep Lucy company, but she seemed to avoid talking to help me fall asleep. It didn’t take long.

Sunday, April 10th, – Lisbon Airport.

It's either early or late... I’m not sure anymore. Now I remember why I hate jet lag. The good thing is the flight made me forget the time and regain some energy. I feel great, and I think Lucy does too. We’ve got silly smiles on our faces. We know we’ll finally be able to live safely here. We were so happy to return to our homeland. As we enter the terminal, I immediately spot my grandpa. Lucy must have sensed my excitement because she released my hand without saying a word, letting me run toward him. I immediately hug him tightly.

"I'm so happy to see you again! I missed you."

"And I missed you."

We pull apart, and I turn toward Lucy, who’s now by my side again. Before I even have time to introduce them, my grandpa asks:

"Well, is this the lucky one?" he says with a grin.

"Yes. Grandpa, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is Charlie Batlle, my grandfather."

"Nice to finally meet you. Ona’s told me a lot about you."

She smiles genuinely, though I can tell there’s a bit of tension behind it. My grandpa chuckles and catches her off guard by giving her a big hug.

"Forget formalities with me, dear. It’s a pleasure to meet my granddaughter’s girlfriend."

I smile in return. I didn’t expect this meeting to go any other way. My grandpa has such a big heart. When I told him who I was coming with, he was thrilled. I expected nothing less from him.

"How was the flight?" he asks as we start walking.

"Long, but overall good."

"Oh yes, it’s quite a haul. But we’re glad to finally be here."

I let them chat as I take in my surroundings. Just feeling the ground beneath my feet is a pleasure. My legs had started to go numb from sitting for so long. The sun shines through the large windows, making me smile. I feel like a ball of energy. It's wonderful to be back, but also hard. The last time I was here was for my father’s funeral... I don’t have time to dwell on it, though, as we grab our bags and head outside. The weather feels nice. A bit cool, but I’m not surprised given the time. It's early, and this time of year, we’re in autumn. I think we’ll be lucky. It feels mild, and we’ll be able to do lots of outdoor activities like we talked about on the plane.

"How’s the weather?" I ask my grandpa for his opinion.

- "I think you're going to be lucky in the next few days," he replies with a smile.

- "Great."

We walk through the parking lot, looking for his car. I spot it immediately, remembering it perfectly.

- "Oh, you still have your old pickup!? I can't believe it!"

I rush over to it, making my girlfriend laugh. I've always loved this car. My grandfather used to let me sit in the back whenever we took short trips. I expected him to have gotten rid of it by now.

- "It's a nice car," Lucy comments, running her hand over the bodywork. "1970 Chevrolet, right?"

- "Yes, that's right," my grandfather says, surprised. "You like cars?"

- "She loves them," I chime in before Lucy can respond. "She's a huge fan. If there's anyone you can talk to about your old cars, it's definitely her."

- "She's exaggerating," my girlfriend replies, a bit embarrassed. "I know a little thanks to my dad. He loves them, so I guess I inherited that from him."

- "Do you know a bit about mechanics?" he continues. "Because I think this old thing could use a little tune-up."

- "Oh. Well, I can take a look if you'd like. I restored my first car with my dad, and it was about the same age, so I think I can manage."

- "Really?" I say, surprised. "I didn't know that."

I knew she liked cars, but I never knew where it came from. Now I do. I think these holidays are going to be a way for us to learn more about each other. After all, we’re returning to our roots.

- "I wouldn't be as interesting if I told you everything all at once," she teases, making my grandfather laugh.

- "She's right! That's how I kept your grandmother for all those years."

He adores my girlfriend, it's obvious. I couldn't be happier. His opinion matters a lot to me. It's like my dad accepting her.

- "What was her name?" Lucy asks.

- "Mandie."

- "That's a beautiful name. We’ll have to keep it in mind for later."

I blush at this comment, which is clearly not a joke. It's obvious she means it. I think back to the conversation we had at the restaurant. She really does want to have kids with me someday. Finally, we pack our things into the back. Once we're done, my grandfather hands the keys to my girlfriend.

- "Oh, um..."

She looks at me, unsure of what to do. I shrug with a little smile.

- "I wouldn’t say no if I were you. You must be dying to, and let’s just say he doesn’t let just anyone drive his baby..."

- "Oh yes, that's for sure," confirms my grandfather.

- "I don’t even know the way," she tries to argue.

- "Well, we’ll guide you," I reply. "Come on, I'll sit next to you."

I snatch the keys from my grandfather and drag Lucy to encourage her to do it. I sit in the middle to stay by her side. I can tell she's feeling a bit awkward behind the wheel, but that quickly fades once we leave the airport. I smile because it's clear she's enjoying herself. The engine purrs, showing its age, but it still drives smoothly. It just needs a good clean-up. On the other side, I can see my grandfather is happy too. He was so excited to know we were coming. It's been a long time since anyone visited him. I know he knows a lot of people here, but it must be tough losing all your loved ones and being left without family nearby. In any case, he's in great shape. He hasn’t stopped talking the entire ride. I'm really glad I got some sleep on the plane; otherwise, I wouldn’t have handled this conversation as well given the time of day. On the other hand, I'm enjoying seeing Lisbon again. It feels like home. I smile when Lucy parks in front of the family house. It’s a little home that I’ve always been particularly fond of. We’re far from the city, and there’s a small beach just behind it. I’ve always found this place to be peaceful. Lucy must think the same, judging by the way she looks at the house with wonder.

- "You must be starving," says my grandfather as he gets out of the car. "I’ll go make you both some breakfast. Ona, why don’t you show her around the house while you wait?"

- "Yeah," I say, snapping out of my thoughts. "Yeah, of course. Thanks."

We get out as well, and I smile as I watch Lucy taking it all in. It feels strange to see her here, far from our obligations, but especially at my place. I finally feel like her girlfriend and not just her student.

- "Not bad, huh?" I ask, nudging her playfully.

- "It’s beautiful, indeed," she says with a small smile. "Is this the family home?"

- "Yeah... This was my dad’s last home," I confess.

- "Really?" she raises an eyebrow.

- "Yeah. He came back to live here after... my grandmother passed away and my parents divorced."

- "I see," she nods. "It’s a lovely place, though," she whispers. "You must have a lot of memories here."

- "Oh yes..." I breathe.

I squeal in surprise as we’re interrupted by a ball of fur that literally jumps on me. Lucy bursts out laughing and crouches down to greet the dog, who quickly forgets about me.

- "I can’t believe it! A little petting, and he’s off to someone else," I grumble, making my girlfriend smile.

- "Good thing humans aren’t like that. So, aren’t you going to introduce me?" she teases. "It’s an Australian Shepherd, isn’t it?"

I laugh, shaking my head.

- "Yes, that’s right. Let me introduce you to Buzz, the youngest member of the family. Well, sort of!" I giggle.

- "Wow. He seems like such a sweet dog."

I tilt my head with a smile, noticing she’s clearly no longer paying attention to me at the moment. Oh, so she really loves dogs, huh? Another thing I didn’t know. I crouch down too and finally manage to get the dog’s attention, along with Lucy’s.

- "Do you like dogs?" she asks me.

- "I do, yes. I didn’t know you were such a fan."

- "Oh, I love them, but they need a lot of attention, unfortunately."

- "That’s true."

I start petting Buzz too. I missed him. My dad wanted to get a dog so my grandfather wouldn’t be alone when he was away on missions. My grandfather wasn’t too keen on the idea at first, but in the end, he’s the one most attached to Buzz.

- "Maybe we could consider getting one."

I look up at Lucy in surprise.

- "Really?"

- "Well, why not? Maybe not right away, but once we see how our schedule is next year. If everything works out, we could get one."

- "Definitely, yes!"

I nod enthusiastically, making Lucy laugh. It would be a great first step toward commitment.

- "Alright," she says, standing up.

- "I should really show you around the house," I announce, standing up too.

We grab our bags and head inside. It feels strange being here again... The last time I was, my dad was still around. It’s bittersweet because I’ve always loved his rustic style. Lucy must have noticed my change in mood because she gently places her hand on my back.

- "Will you show me our room?"

I smile shyly and nod. From where we’re standing, we can see the living room, but I lead her upstairs to our left instead. Lucy follows closely behind. The house isn’t very big, but it has three bedrooms and a bathroom just on the upper floor. Mine is at the end. When we walk through the door, we’re greeted by a room flooded with light from a large bay window that opens onto a small terrace, almost as small as my room itself. It’s barely big enough for a bed and a wardrobe, but it’s more than enough. I chose this room because I fell in love with the view of the sea. I’ve lost count of how many times I left the curtains open just to wake up to that view, accompanied by the sound of the waves. It feels like paradise. Nothing has been moved, yet I can tell everything is clean. My grandfather must have taken the time to tidy up.

"It’s lovely," she whispers, pulling me out of my memories. "Is that your dad? »

I nod as she points to a picture of us. To be honest, it's the last one we took together. We were in the back, by the sea, and he tried to throw me into the water when we had just arrived here. In the end, it made for a beautiful shot, taken by my grandfather.

"You look a lot like him," she says with a small, sad smile. "How about we take a walk this afternoon? We can visit his grave while we're at it."

"Really?" I reply, surprised. "I mean, I don't want to burden you with that. I would have done it another time, like when you go for your morning run."

"Don't be silly. I'd like to come with you, if that's okay."

I smile softly and nod. I didn't want to pressure her, but if it's her idea, I won't say no.

"Okay... Thank you."

"It's nothing. You seem uneasy... Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. It's just strange to be here..."

"You haven't been back since?"

"No," I admit. "We came back for the funeral, but..."

I take a deep breath. She has a right to know, after all.

"I didn't have the courage to set foot here again. I made my mom book us hotel rooms."

She nods in understanding.

"Come here."

She opens her arms, and I immediately snuggle into her embrace. She kisses my forehead, holding me tightly.

"It’ll be okay, alright? He wouldn't want to see you like this."

"I know... But it's stronger than me."

"Okay," she says, pulling back. "You know what? We didn't come here to mope around, so... How about we plan that stargazing night tonight instead? We can always take that walk another day. I can see you need a distraction."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. If I'd known there was a beach right behind the house, I would've agreed to this sooner. Might as well enjoy it while the weather's nice. It might not last long."

She's amazing... She always finds ways to lift my spirits. I smile and nod. There's no rush now that we're here, but I really like this idea to start things off.

"Great... And what do you say we help your grandfather now? I can already smell waffles, and honestly, I’m starving."

I laugh and nod. If there’s one thing that didn’t go well during the trip, it’s the meals over the past few hours. A good breakfast will do us good.

"Yeah... You're right. You’ll be impressed. His waffles are the best."

"Oh, really? Better than mine?"

"Um... Hard to say... But yes. I’d say so," I tease, grinning.

"Oh, really? I might need to remind you otherwise..."

"Wh-"

I don’t even get to finish my sentence before she attacks me with tickles. I burst out laughing, squirming to escape her grasp, but it's no use. I accidentally pull her down onto the bed, but she still keeps control. I tend to forget just how strong she is.

"S-stop, p-please."

"Oh, now you’re begging?"

I can barely catch my breath. Lucy slows down, but her laughter still echoes in my head.

"So? Are you going to admit my waffles are the best?"

I try to breathe, but giggles still escape. Her fingers hover threateningly over my stomach, as if daring me to give the wrong answer. I grin, deciding to play along.

"I’m not changing my mind," I say with exaggerated seriousness.

Her mock-offended expression makes me smile like an idiot. I love when we’re like this together.

"Oh yeah? And what should I do to change your mind, huh? Oh, I think I know..."

I laugh as her lips brush against my neck.

"Please. You can’t torture me like this."

"Oh really?" she whispers. "I think I’m the only one who has the right to torture you like this."

I wrap my arms around her neck. I can’t help it. What I wasn’t expecting was for her to start tickling me again, this time under my shirt. The sneaky move leaves me laughing uncontrollably, unable to defend myself.

"S-stop, stop! Okay, okay, you win! Yours are the best! Yours are the best!"

The torture stops at my pleas. The next moment, her lips meet mine, and I immediately relax. I laugh as I try to catch my breath. She really is the one I need, no doubt about it.

"See? That wasn’t so hard."

"Girls?" my grandfather calls out. "Everything’s ready, if you’re hungry."

"Well, look at that. We didn’t even get to help your grandpa."

"He’ll survive," I murmur before kissing her.

I wrap my legs around her waist, but Lucy doesn't seem to agree. Though she chuckles, she gently pushes them away.

"Sweetheart..."

"What?" I laugh. "He can wait two more minutes."

"Okay," she sighs.

She kisses me back. I smile as I feel her hand caressing my stomach. She doesn’t even realize how much she drives me crazy... or maybe she does, judging by the way I move my hips against her.

"Not here, and definitely not now," she teases. "We need to go down."

"But!"

I groan in protest, making her laugh softly. She’s so adorable, looking at me with her head tilted. Her eyes drift down my body, and I realize my shirt is pushed up to my chest. I quickly pull it down, which brings her gaze back to my face.

"If I don’t get to, neither do you."

"Oh, you’re like that now?"

"Yep. Too bad for you. You’re missing out."

I get up from the bed and walk down the hallway, purposely swaying my hips for her to watch. I can hear her laughing behind me, which makes me turn around to stick my tongue out at her. What I wasn’t expecting was for her to catch up and grab my butt at that exact moment.

"Don’t worry, I plan to take care of that during this vacation," she whispers to me.

"Really?" I reply, breathless. "If you stick to your rule of no hooking up under family roofs, we won’t be doing much of anything."

"Who said it would be in a bed?"

Her comment stops me at the top of the stairs. Did I hear that right? Where did my innocent girlfriend go!? It’s her turn to tease me with a playful smile as she walks into the living room where my grandfather is waiting for us. Oh my God. We’ve only just started our vacation, but I don’t know why, I feel like this will be the best one we’ve ever had. Then again, we came here... there's no other word. We understand each other, we live together. I’ve never had it so easy with anyone else. My father was right. In life, you only meet one true love. It doesn’t matter how many people come before or even after... but there’s only one, and you feel it instantly. You just have to be lucky enough to find them. I think I knew from the first day what Lucy would mean to me. I was scared at first. After all, we each tried to push the other away with all our strength... But once again, my father was right. You can’t avoid the inevitable. Fate wanted us to be together, and here we are. One thing’s for sure, I’m not going to repeat my parents' mistakes. Lucy is going to be my priority, and I’ll make sure to nurture our relationship. It’s my turn to show her she deserves the world. Smiling, I join her as she’s already deep in conversation with my grandfather about old cars. Yeah, this woman is perfect.

[megameatymatt]

Step By Step - Matt Sturniolo

summary: Matt finds out about y/n's ED relapse

WARNINGS: e@t!ng d!sorder, swearing, throwing up, gagging, crying, self-hatred/insecure, feelings of hopelessness, overthinking

If you or anyone you know is dealing with an ED or substance abuse, call or text:  1-800-662-4357.

word count: 766

requested?: nope

A/N: I was feeling sad so all of you must suffer with me. Feedback, interaction, and requests are appreciated! ok bye

Pink: Y/n

Blue: Matt

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

Matt knows you've dealt with an eating disorder in the past. He wasn't there during it, but you've talked to him about it and answered some of his questions. It didn't make you any less perfect in his eyes. To him, all that mattered was you being okay. But you weren't.

Four years later, you feel like you're falling back into it all over again—all the progress you've made, discarded within just a couple weeks.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wish someone different stared back at you. You pinch at the skin on your thighs, stomach, and arms and wish the fat would disappear.

You sob silently. How can someone hate themselves so much, How couldn't you hate yourself so much, Y/n? Look at you, just look at you! You're lucky matt even stays. Thoughts circle around your head like a halo. Leaving you in nothing but shatters.

You walk to the toilet, shove a finger down your throat, and gag

The cycle begins.

Two weeks later, you walk into your kitchen to find Matt standing there. "Good morning, angel, I'm making pancakes. How many do you want." The thought of putting food in your mouth makes you sick. "Um, Matt, I'm not hungry." Matt frowns. "You love my pancakes, baby, what's the matter?" you shuffle through your brain, thinking of an excuse. "I'm full from last night, Y'know, the pizza." You, Matt, nick, and Chris had had a movie night. The boys ordered pizza and snuggled up on the couch as you all giggled.

"I watched you the whole night, Y/n, I didn't see you take a single slice," he says, flipping a pancake. "In fact i haven't seen you eat much at all lately, You alright?" Eat? How can he suggest such a thing? doesn't he want me to be pretty? i wanna be good enough to wear a bikini. I wanna be good enough to wear skin tight dresses, i wanna be good enough for him.

You shake away these thoughts trying your best to keep your composure. "I'm good, just give me one okay?" you say letting out a sigh. He smiles "Comin' right up princess" He hands you a plate with a pancake, syrup, whipped cream and some strawberries. Matt has already started digging into his own plate.

just a few bites Y/n, just let Matt think you're okay

You pick up your fork and knife with shaky hands, cut yourself a piece and quickly shove it it your mouth. Your body wants to immediately reject it, but you take a few more bites.

As soon as you swallow your first bite, it flies back up your throat. You get up and run to the bathroom. Matt follows you with concern. "Are my pancakes that bad?" he says, running after you. But as he walks into the bathroom. He notices how frail you've become. Tears are running down your eyes, and he finally realizes. You finish puking and flush the toilet and lean against the wall, almost lifelessly.

A few tears escape Matt's eyes. How could he be so stupid? how didn't he put it together? It was so obvious. He could've helped you. Why would you do this?

He runs out of the bathroom to get a glass of cold water, then quickly comes back to hold you. The only thing that could escape from his mouth was "Why"? "Just look at me, Matt, I hate it, I hate my body so fucking much, Matt, you don't even understand," you say, trying your best to yell, tears running down your face.

Matt is completely taken aback "But you're so beautiful, baby, You're hurting yourself. You were doing so good." You sob in Matt's arms, barely able to speak. "I-I'm sorry, Matt. I just wanted to be pretty." Your words felt like a knife in Matt's stomach.

''I tried so hard to fight it, Matt, I didn't want to go down this path again. I promised you I wouldn't. The words spill out like vomit, "But I did it anyway, Matty." You whine, "And it's worse than before. I'm so ashamed Matt. I'm sorry i'm putting you through this" Tears rush you your face, and you're shaking uncontrollably. The knife in Matts stomach only gets pushed deeper and deeper. "I'm sorry i never noticed Y/n, i'm so fucking stupid. The signs were so clear, i could've helped you." He wipes the tears off your cheeks. "But i'm gonna help you now baby." "I can't Matt" "we're gonna do it together okay? Step by step, Y/n. We'll be just fine"

Taglist: @sturnobsessedwh0re

[pretzel-box]

Please read.

This is a general post about a small thing that came up two or three times in the past.

It's not that dramatic but I would like to adress it anyways since it's something that's stressing me out when people mention it.

"You take too long to post."

"You didn't wrote my request."

I admit that the pace I started with has dropped and I took more time to actually come up with stuff, despite my writing schedule.

This now is not a try to justify myself or to nag at the people that request but I like to let you know why I haven't posted that much by sharing a glimpse into my personal life:

1. I am german and dyslexic, I take a lot of time to edit my stories, and I write them carefully. I do not have beta readers or anything else that checks my works for spelling errors, wrong grammar, or logic errors. Most of the time, I write a rough draft in german and translate it by myself into english, adding more key elements. I do not use any translation websites or any other tools to help me with that because it mostly changes how I want the sentences to sound.

2. I actually am a human with a private life.

I had to take a break from school due my mental health and dropped out for the year. Now I work a small side job as waitress. I work overtime to make ends meet. Writing is something like a hobby and I do it mostly on trains, busses or waiting in a parking lot when I come up with a draft. Only in the evenings or nights I find the time to sit on my laptop to form it into an actual 1k minimum story.

On top of that, I had a recent breakup and some stress among the family. I don't try to let my personal life affect the way I am on tumblr. But I have to admit that what I write is deeply connected with how I feel. Sunkissed for example was highly inspired by my past relationship. As Above So Below is a story where I deal with my own anxieties. What I write has a small part of me and it's what makes it so special. And I can't be writing all the time because there are more than enough situations where I can't even bring myself to eat three meals a day or do some chores.

3. My laptop and my Ipad are broken. My laptop is currently in repair, all my personal data including saved drafts, stories, ideas, the layout for AASB and personal pictures are GONE. My laptop will return in roughly 2-3 weeks. All I have left is my phone and let me tell you how gruesome it is to write stories on your phone. Especially when it's not a one day issue.

As stated above all my works have a minimum of 1k words. Most stories even reach inbetween 2-4k words and AASB has a minimum of 5k. Usually I write around 11k words a week minimum without requests counting.

4. Yes, I gave myself so much work. I decided to have so many on going projects myself and I work on it. But right now I just don't have the tools or the time to make everyone satisfied.

Thank you all for reading this. I just had to let this out of my head and I apologise for everyone that is unhappy, disappointed or angry at me. It's not something I can change right now and I can only ask you to have patience.

[winchesterwild78]

A Twist of Fate

Characters: Dean x Reader, Billy x Reader

Warnings: Nothing too extreme, just some angst, language, and fluff

A/N: Got this idea from a picture I was tagged in by @jackles010378. Sorry it took me so long to write this. Dean and the reader were dating and broke up. Dean sees the reader with her new boyfriend and things unravel. 

This is a work of fiction, all work is my own, do not take it or copy it. 

Minors DNI 18+

The crisp autumn air nipped at my nose as Billy and I strolled down Main Street. The leaves were a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows, a beautiful contrast to the gray sky. I couldn't help but think about how much my life had changed since I'd last seen Dean.

Three years. That's how long we'd been together. Three years of laughter, love, and a shared passion for the supernatural. And then, just like that, he was gone. A letter, a simple explanation that he couldn't be with me anymore. The pain had been unbearable, a wound that had slowly healed, leaving a scar that I would always carry.

That morning I woke up and found the letter on his pillow. It was the day my world broke. Tears fell on the letter as I read his simple words. 

Dear Y/N,

These past three years have been great. We’ve shared so much and done even more together. I know you love me. You’ve said it so many times, and showed me every day. I just can’t lie to you anymore. I don’t feel the same. That’s not fair to you, to make you think we have a future together. One where we get married and have kids. I can’t do the apple pie life. I’m sorry, Y/N. I do hope you find the love you deserve.

Goodbye,

D

It didn’t make sense to me. We had just shared a night of love and passion, tangled in each other’s embrace. Whispering words of love and affection. We talked of the future and he said he’d love to be a dad one day. He was the love of my life, then he was gone. 

Now, here I was, two years later with Billy. He was kind, considerate, and everything a good man should be. But a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

We met through a mutual friend and had an instant connection. I wouldn’t call it love, but I was grateful for the companionship. I hadn’t even spoken the words to him. Billy was quick to say “I love you”, but I couldn’t say it because I didn’t mean it, nor did I feel it. 

Billy spent all of his free time with me. At times it felt suffocating. Dean and I spent a lot of time together too, but we also had our time apart. I’d bake and he’d work in the garage, it was a perfect balance.

Walking hand in hand through Main Street my mind kept comparing him to Dean. When Dean and I would walk, his arm was around me in a protective way. Billy just held my hand. Dean would lace his fingers in mine, Billy just cupped my hand. 

When Billy kissed me, it was hard and fast. When Dean kissed me it was soft and full of passion. Every step I took my mind kept comparing Billy to Dean. I couldn’t figure out why Dean was in the forefront of my thoughts.

And then I saw him. Leaning against the Impala, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. Dean. My heart pounded in my chest as our eyes met. A flash of something crossed his face - regret? Jealousy? I couldn't be sure.

As we continued walking, I glanced back. He was still watching, his gaze fixed on me. A wave of emotions washed over me. I stumbled as I looked back. I saw him gasp and jump off the car. Billy grabbed my arm trying to steady me. “You okay?” I nodded. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Dean. Billy followed my gaze. Clearing his throat I turned and met his eyes. “Who’s that?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt and something else, anger maybe. I looked at Dean then back at Billy, “he’s my ex.” 

Billy wasn’t happy. I could feel the tension between us. As we walked into the quiet cafe he shot me a look that sent a chill through me. The cashier offered a soft smile. “How can I help you two today?” She said with a sweet voice. Billy looked at her and said “We will both have a coffee with 2 creams and 1 sugar.” She nodded as she started to put in the order. I spoke up, “Um, excuse me. I’ll have a vanilla latte please.” Billy shot me a look and grabbed my hand, “No, you’ll have what I ordered you. You’re my girlfriend and you’ll have what I order.” 

The cashier stood shocked. My mouth was on the floor. He’d never acted like this before. I touched his bicep softly, “Billy, I am your girlfriend, but I can order what I want.” Billy huffed and mumbled something. The cashier told Billy the total and she went about making the order. 

When we had our order Billy directed me to a booth at the back of the restaurant. I sat across from him and looked at him, shocked by his behavior. “You want to tell me what the hell that was about, Billy? Since when do you order for me and grab me?” Billy just stared at me, anger flashing in his eyes. It honestly scared me. 

“I didn’t like how you kept staring at pretty boy out there. It’s like you’re in love with him or something.” I bit my lip, not knowing what to say to him. I was in love with him. I never stopped loving him, but how could I tell him that? 

I swallowed hard. Touching Billy’s hand I started to speak, “Billy, I was in love with him when I was with him. He broke my heart and I’m with you now. That’s all that matters.” 

Billy pulled his hand away from me. “So you can love him but not me? You know what, screw this. Why don’t you go back to him and be his little whore again.” I gasped, “Billy! What the hell. Please calm down. I don’t want to be with him, I’m with you.”

Before I could say anything else, Billy stood up and told me to have a nice life and left. I sat at the table in shock. What the hell just happened? How did one little thing set him off like that? 

I sat at the table thinking about the past few years, how my love for Dean slipped away, and how Billy reacted to me seeing Dean. I was lost in thought and didn’t hear the bell above the door. 

The sound of a deep husky voice pulled me from my thoughts, “Hello, sweetheart.” My eyes flicked up and they met the piercing green eyes of my favorite hunter. My breath caught in my throat, “D…Dean, what are you doing here?” “Sammy and I were in town on a hunt, I heard you moved here. I’m so glad I ran into you. Can I sit?” 

“Sure.” I said without hesitation. Dean sat across from me. His hands instinctively grabbed mine. My head is screaming at me to pull away, but the rest of my body is holding on for dear life. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was foolish and a complete jackass for leaving and for leaving you the way I did. I was scared. I had finally found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, have children with, and I got scared. Scared you would be taken away from me. Scared because I don’t deserve the love you had for me. I’ve never deserved love or to be loved. I’m broken, Y/N. 

As I sat across from him, hearing him say how he didn’t deserve love my heart broke for him. “Dean, you deserve so much.You, Dean Winchester, deserve all the love in the world. You were four years old when you saved your brother from the fire, you raised him. Dean, you had to be mom and dad to Sam. Dean Winchester, the man who willingly went to hell to save his baby brother, the man who was willing to die for so many people. Dean Winchester, the man who took on the Mark of Cain to help save the world. You deserve all the love this world has to offer. You deserve so much more than I can give you. I NEVER stopped loving you, Dean, and I know I never will.”

Dean stood and walked over to me. He reached out his hand and took my hand in his, pulling me up and flush to his body. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and his hand cupped my face, “You are even more beautiful now than you were two years ago. I was a fool to let you go, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making that up to you. That is if you’ll have me again.” 

I leaned into his hand that cupped my face. My heart hammered in my chest. His touch ignited that fire, that love I had buried deep inside me. Without another word I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was soft and Dean hesitated for a moment. Then something changed. His hands went into my hair and pulled me in. The kiss became more passionate and full of need. 

The hurt from the past two years was fading with each kiss. When we finally parted, I looked at Dean and smiled. His eyes are full of love and desire. “Dean, take me home.” I said as I leaned into his embrace.

Dean took my hand and led me out of the coffee shop and to the Impala. He opened the car door and I climbed in. When he got in the driver’s seat, he looked over, smiled and took my hand. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He stepped on the gas and we headed back home. Home, where we both belonged, together and in each other’s arms. 

Tags are open, if you want to be added, let me know.  

Tags: 

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573 

@k-slla @jackles010378 

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2 

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi 

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

[onegianthotmess]

Before Sunrise…

(Leona X Morel Domestic Fluff)

Synopsis: It’s a well-known fact that Leona Kingscholar is not a morning person. He had never been. But that didn’t mean his sweet baby girl would let him rest in peace with his sweet wife in the wee hours of the morning.

It was early. Far too early to be awake, even for the business that was Sunrise City. Even the palace staff that worked for the royal Kingscholar family was sluggish and sleepy for the most part.

Even so, the quiet giggles and pitter patter of itty bitty feet of a sweet little cub softly echoed through the quiet halls of the palace in which the Kingscholar family resided. Usually, Gardenia Kingscholar was just as sleepy as her father in the mornings and was always looking for an excuse to nap much more often than any other four year old cub. Though, with the promise of Leona taking her into the city for a rare papa-daughter day, Gardenia was too excited to even let her mother sing her to sleep, especially with how busy Leona had been the past few weeks.

And even though it was before sunrise and her parents were sure to be fast asleep in each other’s arms, Gardenia couldn’t help but crawl out of her bed and make her way to her parents’s room so she could wake up her papa.

Gardenia’s small footsteps quieted as she reached her parents’s bedroom door, somehow managing to silently creep into the room and sneak towards her sleeping parents. Curse those lion beastman traits, right?

“Papa!” Gardenia beamed as she climbed up onto the large bed to see her parents sleeping peacefully, Morel clinging onto Leona with her head in the crook of his neck while Leona was weirdly spread out as he normally was. Pouting yet undeterred, Gardenia crawled away from the edge of the bed and settled in a small gap between her parents and focused on her father, glaring at him. “Papa! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

The cub bounced in place as she shook her father’s leg, her movement earning a tired groan from her father and a sleepy laugh from her mother.

“Kitty… Your daughter is awake,” Morel murmured through sleepy laughter.

Leona groaned, “Before sunrise, she’s your daughter, herbivore.”

“Papa!” Gardenia pouted crawling over Leona, who let out a groan of pain when his daughter basically kneed him in the stomach, and made her way to his head before she began to gnaw and chew on his ears, growling.

“Ow-Hey!” Leona winced, trying to gingerly remove his ears from his daughter’s impressively strong jaw while trying to pry her off of him at the same time, though with little success. “Nina, we talked about this! Papa’s ears aren’t a chew toy!”

It took a little bit, but Leona had finally managed to get his daughter off of him without any sort of injury to his ears aside from a bit of pain. The man held the white haired girl by the back of her soft nightie and gave her a deadpan, yet amused, look that silently told her to give up.

But, ever the stubborn cub, Gardenia pouted, “But you promised, Papa! You promised you’d take me out today! Didn’t Papa promise, Mama?”

“Oh, yes, I remember, Papa did promise,” Morel grinned, laughing at Leona’s annoyed expression.

“Seriously?” the lion beastman asked.

“It’s never too early to tease you,” Morel replied simply before looking to her daughter. “Is it, Dena?”

“No, Mama!” Gardenia agreed before focusing on Leona once more. “But Papa promised! Mama said so! So wake up! Up! Up, Papa!”

“Nina, the sun isn’t even out yet and you didn’t sleep last night,” Leona groaned, still too sleepy to make it a few moments without letting out a yawn. “Just sleep with me and Mama until it’s actually time to get up, okay?”

“But ‘m not sleepy!” Gardenia protested with a whine and a pout, her ears folded. Though, despite her protests, it was easy to see that the cub was incredibly tired. When she wasn’t yawning, she was rubbing her tired eyes or almost nodding off. It was clear Gardenia hadn’t gotten a full night of sleep and would need at least two hours or so more of sleep to feel fully rested for the day.

But, as tired as she was, Gardenia was just as stubborn as both of her parents and wouldn’t bend unless Leona folded or she was given something that made sleeping worth her while. With a sigh, the lion beastman gently set Gardenia down on his belly and looked to his wife, who’d been watching the funny and cute scene between the lion and the oh so stubborn cub.

“Morel, help me,” Leona murmured, earning a laugh from his small wife before she looked to their daughter and gently cupped the side of her head with one hand.

“Gardenia, I know you’re excited to spend the day with Papa, but you can’t spend time with him if you’re all sleepy,” Morel gently cooed, softly petting behind one of the cub’s soft little ears. “So sleep with Mama and Papa until it’s time to wake up, alright? You can cuddle Papa all you want if you sleep with us until the sun comes up.”

Gardenia perked up, “I can cuddle Papa all I want?!”

“Until it’s time to get up, yes,” Morel nodded before she snuggled closer to Leona. “But Mama might not share. She’s really comfy.”

“Hey, I want cuddles from Papa, too!” Gardenia pouted, quickly hugging Leona around his neck and snuggling into her usual curled up position on her his chest.

“Hey!” Leona groaned, but he was clearly amused given the laugh that left him. “I can cuddle both of you, but you can’t tear me in half in the process.”

“Shush! Sleepy time,” Gardenia shushed, curling up closer to her father as she yawned, just in the cusp of sleep.

“You just said you wanted me to get up, brat!” Leona retorted, earning a light and painless pinch to his ear from his wife.

“You heard your cub, Kitty; it’s sleepy time,” Morel smiled, yawning and hugging the beastman’s arm closer to her. “Nice, warm sleepy time.”

Leona laughed before he yawned, “I told you; before sunrise, she’s your cub.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, Princess,” Morel murmured sleepily. “I love you, Kitty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leona yawned, putting his head on top of Morel’s, “I love ya more, herbivore.”

A/N: After three weeks, it’s done! I just got busy, even though this was just a little blurb-length post. I wanted some domestic fluff because Leona as a dad makes my brain happy for some reason-

[sirenedusud]

once more to see you (adar x elf!reader)

decades at a time, you find yourself crossing paths with the Uruk.

AN: hey guys i was listening to mitski and for some reason (yeah sure) i was filled with yearning for adar. he intrigues me so. i need help like mentally or something.

AN II: at some point the horny evaporated from my body and i was feeling something different, this ended up becoming like 30% adar LMFAO, BUT ALAS I WRITE FOR MY OWN PLEASURE AND I CANNOT HELP IT. enjoy.

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

Dawn swept across the great delta, the pools of sea water and grains of sand glistened like stars as the sunlight dappled through the clouds. Eärendil's plea had been answered by the Valar, and so a host of your fellow elves from Valinor arrived upon the shores of Beleriand. You followed the call with haste as you wished to be reunited with your dearest friends in exile, but now your stomach turned at the sight ahead. A looming shadow crept over the mountain range, threatening to overtake what remained of Middle Earth's western shores.

Your company had concluded setting up camp the day before. Now only battle preparations were being rehearsed repeatedly, for no one could predict when the fight would erupt. You spent the entire morning doing drills you could have done as easily in your sleep and so decided to slip away from the encampment for a moment away. The forest gave you no comfort though, darkness lingered everywhere, muffling your hyperaware senses. Still you wandered, bow clamped tightly in one fist. Minutes later, you stumbled upon a clearing in the woods, but someone was already there. Their presence made your blood run cold; you notched an arrow for good measure.

It was too late though, the figure turned swiftly and looked directly at your motionless figure partially covered by one tree. He did not draw his sword, nor did you release your arrow. You found yourself completely transfixed on him, he seemed to be an elf with long pointed ears and tresses of midnight black hair.

Whatever danger oozed from him now stopped as his own eyes captured every inch of you. You noticed tear stains on his hollow cheeks, had he been crying before you came? You stepped out of the tree's shadow without hesitation, allowing the sunlight to pour down on you, illuminating your pale blue attire and long, woven hair. He only continued to gaze at you, as if he was studying the magnificent night sky etched by constellations.

“What is something so fair doing wandering on this dark path?” he asked calmly. Your cheeks flushed, but before you could open your mouth a horn blared in the distance and you pointed your arrow in its direction, then back at the elf. He was gone. This couldn't mean well. You ran back to the encampment as fast as you could to find elves running back and forth, your commander yelling at soldiers and captains alike. The war began.

***

The black blood mucked onto your armor would not budge regardless of how much pressure you rubbed at it with. With a sigh of defeat you dropped the filthy rag and laid your head on the boulder behind you. Decades had passed and the war continued. In this moment of stillness between the two fronts, you and Galadriel had led the injured away from the desolate northern regions. Your mind wandered on the events of the past years: the countless orcs you had slain, the mountains and plains which had been ravaged, the elves and men that fell to their death beside you, and the glimpses of the dark elf from the woods passing by you on the battlefield yet never crossing your path.

"What troubles you?" Galadriel's soft voice stirred your attention. She stood before you, glorious even through the weariness of war.

"Nothing. Nothing besides the stench of those rotting Orcs," you replied without a look to her, guilt creeping into your heart. She crouched down before you and took your hands into her own without another word.

A deafening roar split through the air suddenly, snapping everyone awake. Upon the northern horizon, winged serpentine beasts flew in your direction. Men and elves alike shouted at the sight in an uproar of confusion.

"What treacherous pit have those beasts crept out of?" one man cried out, looking to his own equally mortified commanders.

"So this is Morgoth's desperate assault," your tall commander pondered, before speaking loudly for all to hear, "his forces have been expended. Do not give into fear. Do not fear!" In a blur, you part from Galadriel and fall into line with the remaining soldiers charging back into the heat of battle. The dragons devastated the front line, scalding skin off of bone, melting armor and sword, snapping arrows like twigs. As one dragon swooped down to rake through soldiers, you shot a large arrow into the beast's eye, causing it to roar in pain, but too quickly it recovered to charge straight at you. In that moment, fear paralyzed you. The cloud of flame descending upon you grew hotter by the second, and you closed your eyes. No fear.

That was until a cold metal hand yanked at you by the nape of your armor, dragging you away from the now burning spot. You open your eyes to see a black-haired figure pulling you further and further away from the fields and into a dark valley. The ground was bloodied, black trees stood completely charred. The air hung thickly here, perhaps it was from the dragon fire, perhaps it was only something between the elf and you. He finally stopped and released you, causing you to catch yourself from face-planting into the rocky ground. He paced a little ways further, keeping his back to you. The sounds of clashing metal and roaring dragons continued in the background, yet seemed to grow faint as you focused on your savior.

"Who are you?" you asked warily, a hand resting upon the slender blade on your hip, yet rather pathetically you wished nothing more than for him to face you and gaze at you like the last time. He does turn eventually, and his eyes do find yours, but they were filled with anguish so strong it drew a worried expression from your own face.

"I am..." he began, "I thought I was fighting for my children’s place in this world, but it seems I led them all to death..." Children? What children did he speak of? You knew he served Morgoth, alongside other monsters and tormented souls twisted into Morgoth's "creations,” but no children were on that battlefield. You stood up slowly, trying to navigate the elf's mood as he looked down at the ground. His scarred hand grasped his black sword tightly, but you crept closer. He looked to you again, stopping you in your tracks as electricity crackled between the two of you.

His pale face was scarred so severely that you winced at the thought of what it looked like when they were fresh, but he was beautiful nonetheless. His melancholic grey-blue eyes shone upon a set of high-cut cheekbones. His thin lips parted to speak again, but his gaze dropped down to the dark blood stained on your armor. Suddenly, his eyes darkened and he grew angry, stepping away from you. You panicked at this change in temper and unsheathed your blade.

"Forgive me," he muttered before striking you across the head with the butt of his sword. The power of his hit threw you unconscious and you crumpled to the floor. For a moment he regretted his action, but the shrieks of the dragons snapped him back into reality. He pulled you behind large rocks, out of sight from any dangerous passerby, and returned to the battle that was costing him his kin. The battle which he knew Morgoth was losing.

***

The golden forest welcomed you with a gentle breeze as you walked down the rows of trees carved into figures of martyred elves. You stood before the familiar faces, ebbs of grief resurfacing in your heart. Decades had passed since the War of Wrath ended and now you remained in Middle-Earth with numerous other elves. Sometimes you longed for the light of Valinor, yet other times a dark desire only found in this foreign land kept you chained to Middle-Earth. Now, you simply resided in the elven kingdom of Lindon.

"There you are," Gil-galad's voice called to you gently. You turned to greet him, his eyes softened at the sight of your weary face. Your heart, on the other hand, leapt briefly after taking in the sight of the golden king. Moments like this passed between the two of you before, a connection that yearned to blossom during these peaceful years spent together in Lindon, but you said nothing of it and neither did he with all his power in the world. He stepped closer to you, taking your hand into his large, warmer ones before speaking.

"I know this look. I know you regret not joining Galadriel on her...search," he began, his golden rings dazzling in the sunlight, "but I have a task for you which I hope proves to be a distraction because I do not wish to see you mourn the past, wandering here in these woods alone." His voice grew firmer towards the end. He was right, long had you spent idly in solitude, spiraling in dark memories yet also refusing to return to Aman.

"What is your command?" you asked aloofly. Gil-galad let out a sigh and patted the back of your hand, guiding you back out of the forest and towards his halls.

"I want you to go see Celebrimbor. See what he is conjuring in that workshop that keeps him so occupied," Gil-galad continued, "I'm afraid our friend is not replying to my envoys as swiftly as I would like, and thought perhaps a more familiar face would get things out of him sooner." A breeze passed through the exit of the woods, causing your lids to flutter shut and you to inhale deeply. You opened your eyes to find Gil-galad studying your face, then looking away shyly. Before entering the main hall, he turned to you, gently clasping his hands upon your shoulders.

"Take two with you," he instructed, "and allow that foul battlefield to leave your mind. Now go.”

***

The road to Eregion was short. The two elves that accompanied you found themselves immersed in the citadel's magnificence upon arrival, and so you made your way to Celebrimbor alone. Sure enough, you found him in his workshop, chipping away at a slender blade handle made of polished marble.

"Celebrimbor-"

"Oh!" he shouted in surprise, the blade snapping off of the handle before him, "Ohhh." He turned to you with a frown, but immediately lit back up.

"It is a delight to see you my dear friend," Celebrimbor stood up to come closer to you, "such a delight! We must feast and drink on this occasion...for when was the last time you graced my humble workshop,” he rested one hand on your back as he began guiding you towards the doors you entered from.

“But you see…right now I'm quite busy." You began to protest with the elf, but he swept you out of the tower quicker than you could repeat Gil-galad's inquiries. With no other way back inside, you headed out of Eregion's main gates and into the woods. You hadn't meant to go wandering again, but your body had grown accustomed to this ritual: to walk deeper into the woods, fall deeper into memories with every step, become blind to what stood before you physically as your mind filled with images of the past.

The sun began to set and you found yourself in a small clearing full of sweet scented flowers and lightning bugs floating about. Images of the dark elf's face flashed before your mind’s eye, causing your heart to skip a beat. You admitted to yourself that right now more than anything you wanted to see him once more. The softness he spoke with to you, the scars on his pale face, the agony in his burning gaze, the way those same eyes were so captivated by you in the woods; everything about him was intoxicating. It was so pathetic of you, an Eldar, to be emotionally bound to a creature of darkness. There now was an emptiness within you that he had dug there, a hollow that tore open even wider when you remembered him. You fell to your knees in a soft bed of moss, grabbing fists of your hair as you begged yourself to forget about the enemy.

"This is madness! I've been marked by some ill will. It’s a stain. It's just a trick of the darkness, not my own mind! Not mine, not mine, not mine." Your hands hammered at your head. You threw your body forward and released a frustrated scream and then, bereft of any more strength, remained in child's pose upon the soft green earth. Crickets began to chirp around you, and the sound of careful footsteps reached your ears as well. You should have looked to see who it was, but you chose to sulk in self-pity. They grew closer, stopping midway as if they had seen something, then began to head towards you before stopping mere feet away.

"Fair creature..." a low voice spoke above you. You whipped your head up to find the darkling standing before you, clad in full black attire. Suddenly, you became aware of your lack of weapons, but then fell distracted by two tears escaping your eyes. It is a strange sensation, unfamiliar to you completely. Two drops of warm water traced down your cheeks and into the crevices of your lips, the taste of salt hitting your tongue, before continuing down your chin. You raised a hand to wipe the salty rivulets away, but a thumb in a black glove found them first. He knelt before you, looking curious as ever.

"How are you here?" Numerous questions filled your head at once, but time was of the essence with someone as fleeting as this dark elf.

"I fled in the end with my remaining children, in...someone else's refuge,” he hesitated with his words. He was afraid to reveal too much, yet he yearned to be vulnerable with you because he felt that he could. You caught his hand before it dropped away from your face, and rubbed your thumb against the back of his glove. He fell into a trance again, bewitched by your beauty, the beauty of elves he could no longer recall on his own. Your heart stammered in your chest as he kept his hand in yours, your questions now forming quicker in your mind than on your tongue.

"Who are you? You left me in the mountain last we…met. Why did you do it? Why not kill me? I killed…so many of yours," you spoke frantically. His eyes grew hurt, but he did not pull away from you.

"For as long as I can remember, I am called Adar," he began slowly, "My kin and I are Uruk. Yes, you killed many of them, yet I do not know why I spared you. I know...I saw something in you that day in the woods. Something that I should have turned away from, but I gave into it in that moment, and then again in the battle." Your face flushed and it was your turn to cease the eye contact. Whatever intense desire you felt, he had felt it too, you were sure of this. All the sinners of Middle-Earth could have been pointing and laughing at you in this moment. You grew afraid, so afraid of how relieved you were to be with Adar right now, to know him a little more.

"I know what it is that stopped you from killing me," you tested your words as your mind was still tinged with a little fear of Morgoth’s servant, "I felt it too." Slowly, you pulled Adar's hand up to your heart. For a moment the two of you remained like this, then he uttered something in a foreign tongue and pushed you away. He marched away from you before turning around.

"Do not ever seek me out," he said hoarsely, "for your own sake."

***

The waves lapped at the edge of the harbor which you stood upon. You watched as elves began to slowly board the ship set for Valinor. Galadriel stood beside you, looking increasingly agitated as her time to board came closer. Her company had returned several days ago from their search for Sauron, but the elves refused to carry on, forcing their commander to fall back as well.

You turn to Galadriel and she mirrored you. You gave her a weak smile, knowing full well she did not wish to take this gift of returning to Aman.

“Perhaps you could speak with Gil-galad once, since Elrond was of no use in this,” she said with a hint of hope, but you shook your head.

“If I speak any word of this to him, he’ll put me on that boat too and be rid of the both of us,” you turned to look behind you as you spoke, catching sight of the king in the distance. He gave you a small nod, perhaps thinking you were having a heartfelt farewell with your friend. Galadriel let out an airy laugh as she glanced at the king as well.

“Well, why aren’t you coming with us?” Galadriel inquired suddenly, curious as to why you had bound yourself to Middle-Earth. You looked at her shyly but simply shrugged; if you told her the truth you knew she would have dragged you onto the ship herself.

“There is still much I want to see. Things not as troubling as well, Sauron,” you responded slowly, taking the last few steps on the dock with Galadriel before she boarded the white ship. She turned back one last time to embrace you, bringing her lips close to your ear.

“I know he is alive,” she whispered.

“I believe you,” you reassured her before releasing her. She muttered a final goodbye before turning to face the front of the ship. You watch as Círdan, Master of the Grey Havens, stepped off the ship before it made its way out of the harbor. Galadriel, nor any of the other elves, turned back. You watched until the ship became a speck on the horizon, until the sun began to set, and until Elrond reached for your arm to guide you away from the harbor.

***

Strange things brewed in the Southlands. Wishing to escape Gil-galad’s ever-watchful eye, you found yourself visiting the elves on the Watchtower of Ostirith. They spoke ill of the men in the villages below, who all felt the same way towards the elves even though they were severely defenseless without those elves. Save Arondir, who had grown fond of one particular woman. Oftentimes you wanted to advise him against it, to say that he would only be hurt if he chose to love a mortal, but you yourself chose worse things to love.

Upon one quiet morning, something had drawn you to the black forest surrounding the tower. The silence of these woods became unnerving though after walking through them for half an hour and you contemplated turning back, but you found yourself lost. You could not sense the way you came from at all. Terror split into your mind as you trekked down the path you were certain you had come from, desperately scanning the forest floor for signs of your own footprints. You were beginning to lose daylight, and prayed the woods were as empty as they sounded.

You suddenly stumbled into a thicket of webs and groaned at the white strands sticking to your hair and clothes.

“Cursed things! Spiders this close to people? Or, perhaps…I am not as close to civilization as I thought I was…” you trailed off into thought as you cut through the webs. The task at hand becoming so distracting that you did not detect one of the spiders crawling up behind you. Your ears had caught the sound of one of its feet slipping though, but before you could turn to parry its attack, you found the arachnid dead with a black arrow through its skull. It fell with a loud thud to your feet, and you stared, dumbstruck, at the archer. Adar stood there, though not as shocked as you. You scrambled out of the webbed mess and straight to him, desperate to catch him before he slipped away again.

“I caught sight of you when you entered the forest. I sensed you were lost and only followed to make sure you returned to Ostirith in one piece–“ Adar began but stopped as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek into his armored chest.

“Please, please don’t leave! Please stop doing this to me,” you pled hoarsely. Adar dropped his bow and clung onto you as well, his one bare hand raking through your long, soft hair. He pressed his face into your smooth forehead, and inhaled your floral scent, absorbing anything and everything he could of you. No guilt or shame reached you now. It was as if no one could see you, not Gil-galad, not the Valar.

“What does an Eldar want to have to do with me?” Adar’s question finally broke your peace. You looked at him in confusion, your mind juggling between reality and its possibilities.

“You could be forgiven, you did not know what you were going to be forced to do when Morgoth had twisted you into…none of this has to be your burden,” you rambled, but Adar shook his head.

“I cannot abandon my children. They have every right to be free in Middle-Earth as anybody else.”

“Children? What are these children you keep speaking of?” you sighed as you took a small step back and planted your hands to your hips. Adar smiled down at you, but inwardly he prepared for you to finally be disgusted by him, to finally reject him and free the both of you from this tangled web of emotions.

“The Orcs,” he explained, “they had been abused by Morgoth once, and I cannot allow it to happen again. They deserve to be free, to have their own land, with no ruler above them…I wish to grant them this peace.” You stared at Adar incredulously. What madness could possess someone to pity the vile Orcs?

“The only peace you could grant them is to put an end to their treacherous existence,” you replied harshly. Adar’s eyes grew angry for a moment, but his pent up desire caused him to soften under your stern gaze. You trembled as you began to realize that perhaps he would not join you in this eternal life, the darkness had truly twisted his soul. As if sensing this, Adar grasped your chin with his hand and forced you to look into his eyes.

“I don’t know what to do…” your lip began to quiver.

“For now…be here with me,” the Uruk responded before dipping his head down to capture your lips in his. You immediately melted into his armored body, any flame of despair within you extinguished. You kissed him back fervently, your hands reaching for his neck, lips feeling every inch of his cold ones. He rocked your head gently to the side, giving himself more leeway to devour your lips. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, a cold metallic taste filling your senses. His hands wandered down your body, slowly squeezing every bit of you from your breasts to your hips. A moan slipped out of you after one of his hands trailed back upward and gave your throat a soft press.

Twigs snap in the distance and you lurched back from Adar. His cold eyes scanned into the dark forest, his body covering yours protectively. After a minute passed, he turned back to you. His own heart, which he once thought long dead, jumped at the sight of you. The moonlight illuminated your flushed cheeks, your lips now glistening from the kiss, and the ardor in your eyes.

“We are not alone, fair creature,” Adar whispered to you between kisses on your cheek then nose then other cheek, “Your kin searches for you. Go to them.” You wanted to protest, but Adar only brushed a hand through your hair before stepping back into the forest, fading without a trace.

“There you are,” Arondir’s voice came from behind you. You turned to face the stoic elf with a dazed expression. He did not ask you why you were here, but simply beckoned you to follow him back to the tower. On your way back, you turned the cold taste of Adar on your tongue over and over again.

***

Arondir led you straight back to the tower, but before entering the fortress, he turned on his heel to face you.

“Who was with you out there?” he asked.

“Wh-what?” you stammered as the question caught you by surprise.

“Who was with you in the woods?” Arondir repeated, emphasizing each word. He took a step forward, looking down at you sternly. Your blood ran cold. Did he already know? Could you lie?

“I was lost, I was talking to myself. There wasn’t any–“

“Do not lie!” Arondir’s jaw tightened as he snapped at you. You stood with your mouth agape, feeling as if you were shrinking smaller and smaller under his judgmental gaze.

“Did you not think I could sense the darkness lingering on your flesh?” you shivered as he continued, “and to think…you succumbed to it so easily.”

“You don’t understand! It was nothing of that sort!” you pled but to no avail. Arondir scowled, turning away from you and headed into the tower.

“It is best you leave these lands. For good,” Arondir called over his shoulder before leaving you alone in the dark. You fell to your knees, praying under your breath for the night sky to come down and swallow you up from your spot.

***

When you reached Lindon, two soldiers immediately led you to Gil-galad. As you entered the king’s study, you noticed a crumpled letter on his ivory desk, as if he had read it and crushed it in his palm immediately. The tall elf stood with his back to you for several minutes, sweat began to form at your hairline. Finally, he turned to you with a somber expression.

“Do you know what I just read?” he asked, barely in a whisper.

“Gil-galad…” he raised a trembling hand to stop you regardless of asking you a question. He stepped around his desk and loomed over you. His eyes searched yours for something you could not decipher. He raised a pointed hand as he spoke.

“Tomorrow, at first light, there is a ship leaving for Aman. You will take it, and you will not have any more say in this,” he spoke seethingly. Disappointment burned in his eyes, and for once you became afraid of him. Naturally, you did not protest and without another word bowed to Gil-galad before turning to leave the room.

Hot tears streamed down your face as you made your way as far as you could from everyone. You kept your face down in shame, making your way to the edge of the city before bumping into someone. You looked up to see Elrond. His mouth parted in surprise but he quickly swept you into a tight embrace, patting your back as you stifled a sob.

“Surprised he didn’t send you off with Galadriel the first time,” Elrond joked quietly, but his voice remained solemn. He did not ask anything else of what had happened in the Southlands, even though he knew the basis of it.

“I should have left the moment the war ended.”

***

The waves were gentle as they carried your ship closer and closer to the golden rays before you. Warmth hummed within your chest as the clouds parted completely to reveal the brilliance of Aman. The welcoming light grew stronger, infiltrating every bit of your surroundings. Your senses began to buzz entirely. Any despair in your mind melted away, and the hollow in your heart filled with something soft and kind. A song from the Amanyar carried through the breeze; the chorus of silken voices beckoned you home.

[rainybyday]

This is mostly based on these three ideas I had circling in my little head please send help. 

Warring States Period - First Idea

Kaguya won in this timeline and only Team Seven survived, both past and present (Sakura, Naruto, Sai, Sasuke, Tenzo, Kakashi, and Obito (all in a total of seven :D)), and so they went into a new timeline as they used their last bit of Chakra to destroy their timeline so Kaguya will never escape and take over other dimensions 

Relationships 

ObKk because I somehow am in a toxic yaoi shipper cycle, god help

Sasuke and Sakura will stay together because I have a massive pin collection with amazing pins of these two so it made me biased

Naruto and Sai are without any partners since their timeline got fucked

Pray

Ok so let me go over some little details I like to have

Uchihas love so fucken deeply its not even funny so when their loved ones are threatened, all hell breaks loose,

Hatakes are a feral clan and while they are seen as “domestic” in modern times not so much in the Warring States, there are two reactions. One (stupid) people will try to fight them to scare them off (ha) or are scared to high heaven and back away from them

Hatakes have fangs and have habits like touching and calling their close ones pack and mate and pup if considered pack 

Yes all of his students are his pups and Tenzo is affectionately called a sapling once he realizes that is a THING for Senju’s to say to their young

Tenzo secretly loves it

But before he never said it out loud since, you know, trauma

Hatakes are territorial of their pack so if anyone messes with their pack when they can’t handle it you are going to wake up with your throat being ripped apart from Hatake teeth

Having a Hatake and Uchiha couple might be a pair made in shinobi heaven if I think in that sense

Fear them

Kakashi gives head pats like it is free candy

Everyone decided to have the Hatake clan symbol on them to place a barrier between them and other warring clans because no one likes to mess with Hatakes (only dumb people do, aka, the political greedy people)

Oh wait I found my plot!

Sakura is still considered a civilian during this time, with no family name or any of that sort since, back then, a civilian was too poor to have a last name, so she, alongside Sai, are now Hatake. 

Since Hatake’s have a pack mentality they do have the occasion of adopting outside their clan and giving their last name, however, there have been very few cases in which a clan outsider is adopted into the Hatake. Usually, this is issued to the clan head of that clan and things will get sorted out. But, because Sasuke, Naruto, and Tenzo are time travelers, no one knows of them nor are they official in the clan registry they don’t do that. 

 Bastard children if you will, and while it's possible for both Naruto and Tenzo that is going to be difficult to tell with Sasuke and Obito

So they decided not to use their last names in such situations unless officially asked if they were of [instert clan here] and just said they are by blood

After all, last names are a claim so they are careful to say they are a Uchiha, Uzumaki, or Senju

Do they claim them?

I mean no?????

Let's say no

They are blood-related but do not claim name, claim blood, not name. If named they are shipped to the clan’s compound and goodbye pack member. 

NOT ON KAKASHI’S WATCH

Ok so, timeline!

I’m gonna make it about maybe a year or more before the death of Inzuma

Just because I can and because tension is still there

But not THE tension if you know what I mean

I want Tobirama to feel like something is wrong with the Chakra signatures floating around but I want Hashirama to know first what the actual problem is with the forest warning him about a pack he should not cross

Why the forest?

Because they feel another person with the forest within them

Aka Tenzo

Case and point

They find Sasuke first by accident

It was a patrol of Senju who found him and immediately didn’t know what to do but they had to capture the thing because obviously it was a Uchiha

They corner him and they are about to catch him when the trees start to move

At first, they think it's their clan head who came to trap him 

But no

The branches are capturing THEM and leaving the Uchiha alone

So now they are confused

Confused they see a man with short chestnut hair come out from nowhere, take the Uchiha into his arms, and warns them that they shouldn't mess with a Hatake cub

And

Disappears

They promptly freak the fuck out

I'll add more later and edit more of my other two ideas cus I can. Nice to do a break on the dcxdp fandom not gonna lie.

[farshootergotme]

Thinking about the Bruce-Dies scenario...

You know, that is going to be a definite whole mess for Damian.

The way we've imagined the timeline in the comments, Talia dumps Bruce in the Pit, amnesiac Bruce stays a while with the League, meets Damian, is told this is his kid...the whole heartwarming stuff...

And then Bruce - somehow, maybe something triggered the memories - finds out what Talia did. Finds out his sons and Alfred (dad) have been mourning him these two years, his sons have been fighting for Gotham alone, they almost died way too many times and she kept him from them...

I think it's 100% that Bruce bolts. And about 80% that he'd take Damian with him. No way he'll trust Talia with his kid, not after what she did (she might have reasons, but no reason is going to suffice for Bruce, given what happened)

Well, there's the return, everyone is overjoyed...except for Damian. The kid has had his entire life upended. His father now hates his mother, he has two brothers - three, assuming Tim is tagging along - to compete with for father's attention, he's in a completely different world with different rules...

That's true. It'd be a big change for Damian plus the culture shock. And that's not considering how young he'd be since he's around 7 years younger than Tim(?) and Tim would be about 15 years old, so that'd make Damian 8 yo (ironically the same age as Dick when he lost his parents, which makes me think he'd be, again, perfect to help him adapt to this new environment as he did at his age. He can relate to suddenly being taken away from the place and people he's known his whole life to out of nowhere be part of a completely different dynamic that's nothing like his old family.)

At first I think it'd be specially a mess because of the shock it must be for the others to see their presumed dead father suddenly walking up to them, carrying a child and telling them he's been alive for the past two years without his memories.

So, at least for two months, Damian wouldn't be able to properly get used to this new life. He'd probably even try to escape and go back to the LOA (possibly as he also tries to convince Bruce to come back with him). But, in the end, he'd be stopped everytime.

From then on it'd be a matter of how long it takes for him to warm up to the others and how much effort they put into trying to get Damian to like them.

And since Damian would've been raised by both his parents in this alternative, I think he'd be much less... Deadly? What I mean is that he'd be less likely to attempt to kill his brothers since, unlike in the original universe, he doesn't have to prove himself for Bruce to see him as his son as Bruce would've already accepted him by then. However, he would be hostile due to what you mentioned about having to share Bruce's attention with the others.

I'm honestly not sure how this would unfold, so I'm taking any suggestions.

[nectarinesalt]

Cornflake Girl

...he showed up all wet on the rainy front step wearing shrapnel in his skin and the war he saw lives inside him still...

pairing: drafted/military/PTSD Eddie Munson x reader (whose brother died in the same war)

warnings: war, language, angst, death. terrible childhood, poverty. talk of domestic violence. eventual PTSD, eventual smut.

word count: 1k

author's note: slightly thinking about making this into a multi-chapter. tell me what you think.

~~~

The exhaust from the line of buses in the road choked you like the clammy, stone grip of Death himself. You found yourself in a trance - staring at the weeping mothers, the trembling young men - the only thing to shake you back to reality was a familiar firm grip on your own shaking fingers.

“...before you know it. Trust me, Wink.”

You stuttered over a response. “W-what?”

Your older brother Zeke raised an eyebrow at you with amusement. It’s the exact look that he had been giving you for weeks, and quite frankly, it pissed you off. How could you be so fucking casual about being drafted, Zeke?

In simple terms, the world as you knew it was ending. Your best friend, your big brother, your savior - he got that goddamned letter in the mail. 

Of course, Ezekiel Elliot Winkler didn’t bat an eye. Did he expect it? Well, you were sure he did. The newspapers talked about nothing but war. But… did Zeke want this? Your mind suddenly ran past all of the memories of the previous years; him and your father shoving each other around, Zeke ripping bottles of wine out of your mother’s frail hands. 

Your brother, only eleven months older than you, covering your ears in the stuffy closet you shared as your parents smashed dishes in the kitchen during a fight. You recalled how bad you shivered in the closet that night - probably because the furnace went out again, and no one had fixed it in months.

Probably as much as you shivered now. Zeke’s chocolate brown eyes were different from yours, lighter almost. His gaze flickered between your pathetic scowl and your hand, where your anxious thoughts manifested into a severe cuticle picking problem.

“C’mon, quit the picking, sis. How’s an engagement ring ever gonna look on a chewed up finger like that?” Zeke winked at you, knowing all too well that you swore off marriage over a year ago.

His sense of humor didn’t fade one bit, not even as the heavy bag slung over his shoulder. You helped him pack it the night before, last minute as always. 

You really want to pack this much? 

He smiled that toothy smile of his, dimples catching the shadow from the bare bulb above you both.

It’s all I got, Wink.

A deep gasp rose in your throat and you squeezed your eyes shut. Your memories escaped you suddenly, but then came rushing back with the enveloping squeeze of Zeke’s long arms lifting you a few inches off the cold pavement. He had always been at least half a head taller than you.

Ignoring the scrutinizing gaze of your mother, Zeke mumbled in your ear. “Just… hang in there. Please? Someone needs to take care of her while I’m gone.”

You fought the urge to argue, to protest. You didn’t want to watch over your drunken mother. You’d be eighteen within six months - who’d be responsible for her then? After all of the nights you both went to bed hungry, the narcissistic comments as puberty hit you like a semi truck. What the fuck did you owe her? 

She didn’t attend the funeral of your father when her car wrapped around a tree… only for her to walk away with nothing but bruises.

You were shocked that she had the motivation to leave the couch to send off Zeke. Hell, right now, you were stunned she was even slightly sober in the parking lot of Hawkins High School. But that was probably for her reputation's sake, not for her only son being drafted like a pig to the slaughter.

A sudden flash of silver caught your eye.

Snapping like a twig in the middle of a dry Indiana January, your neck craned instinctively towards the sight: two buses down, the flicker of a silver chain on the strap of a man’s duffel bag. 

Eddie. Your best friend.

Well, your former best friend. Before you had to start wearing a bra. Before your PMS and family stress turned you into a hormonal monster. Before he popped boners every time you smoked behind the bleachers with him during cheer practice. Before… before he did nothing but obsess over Chrissy Cunningham. 

You sighed.

Eddie Munson, born the same year, nearly the same damned month, as Zeke, got the letter in the mail, too. Duty called to him like a whisper in the night, beckoning him with a curling finger, looking at all of his failures, insecurities; Eddie didn’t think he truly had a future in Hawkins. So why not embrace the draft?

At least, that’s what you imagined it was like. Now, your puffy eyes drew to him like a magnet. Eddie looked drastically different, yet all the same. His hair was buzzed like it was when you were in 5th grade. He kept his back awkwardly straight as he spoke silently to his uncle, Wayne. That tiny family was always so good at trying to make life easier for each other. 

You silently begged them to let the walls down. Shed tears. Hug deeply. But no, nothing like that happened. 

Zeke said his farewell to your frigid mother as you focused on the sparse Munson family. Eddie held a firm grip on his uncle as he pulled him in for a brief embrace. As your childhood best friend turned for the bus, he immediately froze at the sight of you across the parking lot.

Fuck.

A whistle sounded nearby, tearing you from the invisible silver chain that connected you to Eddie.

“Zeke!” you choked out, refusing to let go of the strap on his bag. “Write to me. Please tell me you’ll write.”

“I thought you hated my handwriting?”

“Shut up!” You gripped his strap harder, pulling him forward in a gut-crushing hug, trying to ignore the feeling of Eddie’s eyes on you. 

The last thing you remembered was the easygoing smirk on Zeke’s face as he waved through the bus windows.

[lightsovermonaco]

an: requests and comments always welcome!

wc: 1250

Summary: Pato surprises you by coming home for your anniversary. Fluff with a slight bit of suggestiveness at the end.

One full year. One full year of dating the most thoughtful, obnoxious, beautiful, annoying soul of a man. Three hundred and sixty five days of weird faces, suggestive Snapchat captions, and random phone calls. There's been less drama and more love than you could've ever dreamed. 

You wouldn't trade the past twelve months for anything in the world. 

Dating Pato hasn't been all puppies and rainbows- although Norbi had joined the two of you on a picnic once and you had seen multiple full rainbows. There's challenges, most of which stem from the constant distance and busy schedules. But one way or another, Pato always finds a way to make you feel like he's only in the next room instead of a few states away. 

Whether it be sending you flowers after you've ranted over text or facetiming you for thirty seconds to wish you a good morning, Pato does what he can. Sometimes it's overwhelming to have him away from home so long. There's days where you aren't sure how much longer you can go without holding him in your arms or feeling his stubbly cheeks beneath your fingertips. Pato must have a sixth sense for those things however, because he always seems to know and always gives you a little more love on the rough days. 

Tonight though, you've got the man all to yourself. The lottery drew your number.  You don't know what sacrifice he's made to the scheduling gods, but he's managed to come home for your anniversary just two days before a race. And the worst part? Pato hadn't given you any warning. You'd opened the door in your pajamas, expecting your door dash order instead of the whole package. 

Once you'd attacked him and thoroughly smattered his face with kisses, you'd worked up the courage to ask how long he'd be home. 

“It's only eight hours, I have a plane later tonight to catch back to Milwaukee. But I figured a few hours is better than seeing your face on a screen.” 

“It's so much better Pato,” you murmur and steal another kiss. You can't help it; you're addicted to him and have been in withdrawal for far too long. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

“Trust me, I missed you more.” Pato nudges your jaw with his nose. You understand his request and tip your head to give him full access to your neck, letting any thoughts of that very important work project that had to be finished this week float away on the breeze. 

If you only had eight hours with your man, you were going to make the most of them. 

“Upstairs,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his freshly styled hair. “Now, Pato.”

“Ma'am yes ma'am.”

**********

After spending a few hours wrapped up in each other, Pato had finally convinced you to go out to lunch with him. He'd picked your dress, a burnt orange satin number with thin straps and a slit up the leg that nearly went to your hip.

With Pato dressed in a charcoal quarter zip that's shamefully unzipped and his hair fluffed just how you like it, it's a miracle you've made it through the first course without jumping him. Because with that much of his neck on display and the proof of your earlier fun poking out from under the collar, it's taking every ounce of willpower to keep from dragging him out of this fancy restaurant and begging him to put some marks of his own on you. 

"My eyes are up here hermosa." 

"Hmm? Oh- no I know Pato, sorry! I just got distracted." Pato shifts to allow more skin to show. His smirk tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

“I seem to distract you a lot don't I? Like before when I got home and you were working on that project…” Pato swipes his index finger through the pasta sauce on his plate and licks it clean. Thoughts swirl in your head like mist, though the only one that materializes is the memory of where those fingers had been an hour ago.

“Uh… sure…” 

“Not doing yourself much justice here, are you?” Pato tips his head, brown eyes warm and sparkling. “Good thing you're cute- you're not a very good conversation partner when your head is up on mars.”

“Well maybe if you wouldn't be so hot all the time,” you mumble, spearing pasta on your fork. “It would make my life a lot easier. Then maybe I could get through a meal without losing my train of thought.”

Pato's cute little dimples are on full display when he smiles. Your stomach does flips as if you're back in high school sitting across from your crush. It's crazy how he still has that effect on you now. You'd once worried that the spark would fade and you'd get bored of each other. Now though, you're positive that it's still as alive and hot as the day you met. 

“We both know you don't mean that. These,” Pato taps one of the bruises on his neck, “are proof that you love me just how I am.”

“Yeah well, all I'm saying is once in a while you could show me some mercy, you know? You c-could-” you stutter when Pato's hand meets your knee. Hidden under the table and exposed by the slit in your dress, his thumb moves over your smooth skin whilst his eyes remain trained on you. 

“Hermosa? Everything alright?” Pato smiles sweetly as his hand slides halfway up your thigh. Now you know why he asked for the tiniest table tucked away in the corner. Considering Pato's smug grin, his public torture is having the desired effect. 

“I'm- I'm fine Pato. Perfectly fine.” You clear your throat and shift in your seat so that you're out of his reach. For a split second, you feel guilty when Pato frowns. But instead of giving up, he ups the ante. Pato simply moves his own chair so that he can replace his hand exactly where it was. You should've known he wouldn't let you get away so easily; Pato isn't one to be deterred. 

“Actually,” you purr, laying your hand on his arm, “it would be better if you could let me finish eating in peace.”

“Mmm let me think about it.” Pato drums His fingers on your thigh and purses his lips. You both know the answer before the, “no,” leaves his lips. 

You huff and curl your fingers so your nails dig into his sweater. “This isn't fair Pato. I can't do anything to you, and you're set on torturing me.”

“I think the solution is simple.” When you stare at him blankly, Pato shrugs. “Finish your meal. The quicker you finish eating, the quicker we can get home, yeah?” Pato's wink is accompanied by a dip of his hand between your thighs, there and gone. As quick as it is, his touch is still enough to leave you scrambled. 

“Just pay the bill. I'm done eating.”

“But I ordered dessert-” 

“And I’ll be the dessert as long as you get me home in the next twenty minutes.” a mischievous glint dances in Pato’s eyes. His hand stays exactly where it is whilst the server retrieves the tab. Pato takes one look at it and leaves cash on the table, not bothering with change. 

Pato makes it home with three minutes to spare, and as promised, makes you his dessert. 

[solxamber]

Antinomy - Leo Kurosagi x reader

You and Leo have been at each other's throats for the past few years. So why does it feel so wrong when he shows up at your door bruised and bloody? aka the prompt: "I didn't know where else to go"

The knock is sharp, almost a thud, one that echoes through the room like the reverberation of some bad omen. It’s well past two in the morning, and nothing good ever comes from visitors at this hour. But still, curiosity gets the better of you, and you open the door with more force than you intend.

You freeze. It’s Leo.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, disheveled, one arm clutching his side. His usual smug demeanor is nowhere to be found; instead, his face is bruised, streaks of dried blood trailing from his nose. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, barely clotted, and his shirt is torn like it’s seen better days—like he’ seen better days. It’s probably the first time you’ve ever seen him so out of sorts.

“What the hell…” You can barely get the words out as he leans more heavily on the frame, gritting his teeth.

“Look,” he rasps, voice rougher than the usual annoyingly smug tone, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You stare, unblinking, taking in the sight of him—your infamous rival, the bane of your existence, now standing battered and barely on his feet. A barrage of thoughts rush through your mind. The first: how the hell did he end up like this? The second: why is he here?

When you don’t immediately move or speak, Leo’s mouth curls into something resembling a smirk—though it’s weaker, a shadow of his usual arrogance. “Sho’s out of town… and as much as you love hating me… we both know you don’t hate me enough to leave me out here bleeding.”

Your jaw tightens at that. The nerve. But he’s right. Damn him, he’s always right when it comes to this—knowing just how far to push before you break.

“What did you do?” you finally snap, folding your arms, though it feels more like an attempt to shield yourself from whatever storm’s about to follow him inside.

“Picked the wrong fight,” he mutters. “Didn’t turn out quite the way I expected.”

“Clearly.” You look him up and down, incredulous. “And Alan? Why didn’t you just call Alan?”

A wince flashes across his face as he tries to straighten himself. “I'm already on thin ice with him. I'd rather not hear it from him right now.”

“You expect me to help you? You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” You bite out, though a part of you already knows you’ll cave. There’s something different about Leo tonight. Gone is the usual bravado, the mocking quips and cynical remarks. In their place, you see desperation—vulnerability. He wouldn’t have come here unless he really had no other option.

“Come on,” he breathes, his voice fraying at the edges. “As much as you’d love to see me suffer, you wouldn’t let me bleed out on your doorstep.”

You hate that he’s right. And you hate that some twisted part of you does care—more than you’re willing to admit, even now. With a sigh, you step back, allowing him entry.

“Fine,” you huff, “but don’t expect me to play nice.”

“I’d never expect that from you,” he says with a pained grin as he limps inside.

You close the door behind him, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest. You’re rivals—you hate him, really—and yet, here you are, letting him into your space, into your life when he’s at his weakest. It’s irrational. It’s stupid. But it’s Leo, and you’ve never been able to figure out why you care so much about someone who’s made your life extremely inconvenient for so long.

“Sit,” you order, motioning toward the couch.

He gives you a mock salute, then collapses onto the cushions with a groan, clutching his side tighter.

“What the hell happened to you?” You grab a first-aid kit from the kitchen, already mentally preparing yourself for a long night.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Leo mumbles, though the way he winces with every breath tells a different story. “Just got a little out of hand.”

“A little?” You raise an eyebrow, kneeling down in front of him to examine the damage. His knuckles are bloodied, the cut on his eyebrow still oozing slightly. His shirt’s soaked with sweat, and you can see the bruises spreading across his ribs. He looks like he’s been through a war.

Leo watches you with an unreadable expression as you start cleaning his wounds. “What’s with the concern, hmm? Thought you’d be celebrating right about now. Finally got me on my knees, and not in the way you imagined.”

You glare at him, pushing a bit harder on the wound than necessary. He hisses but doesn’t flinch. “Shut up, Leo. You’re lucky I don’t kick you while you’re down.”

He chuckles softly, though it’s strained. “You always had a mean streak.”

“Maybe I just hate you.”

His grin falters for a moment, something almost… hurt flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

There’s a beat of silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. You’ve patched him up as best you can and cleaned the wounds on his knuckles but they still looked raw and painful. But the tension in the air is thick, and neither of you seems willing to break it.

“You didn’t have to come here,” you murmur, sitting back on your heels, arms crossing over your chest again. “You could’ve gone to anyone. Your fans would’ve eaten this up. Why come to me?”

Leo’s gaze shifts to the floor. For the first time since you opened the door, he looks… unsure.

“I… I didn’t want them to see me like this,” he admits quietly, his usual cocky bravado nowhere to be found. “And Sho wasn’t around. You were the only one I thought of.”

Your heart skips a beat, though you fight to keep your expression neutral. “Why?”

“Because I knew you wouldn't let me bleed out,” he says, so softly you almost don’t hear it.

And there it is. The vulnerability beneath all the layers of arrogance and wit. The part of Leo you’ve only ever caught glimpses of. You’ve always known it was there, buried deep under his ego, but seeing it now, laid bare in front of you, feels… different.

“Dumbass,” you mutter, looking away. “You picked a fight, got yourself hurt, and now you’re here expecting me to fix it.”

“I don’t expect you to fix anything,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I just didn’t know where else to go.”

You take a deep breath, trying to rein in your frustration. He’s hurt, and despite all the history between you two—the constant bickering, the rivalry that’s lasted years—this is different. He came to you when he was at his lowest, and there’s something in that which makes your chest tighten.

You sit down beside him on the couch, careful to give him space but not too much. It’s a strange feeling, having Leo so close, especially like this—broken, vulnerable, his cocky grin now replaced by something far more human.

“Why do you always do this to yourself?” The words slip out before you can stop them, not exactly what you meant to say, but the only thing that comes to mind. “You pick fights you know you can’t win and rely on Sho to bail you out. What do you think will happen if he can’t make it in time?” You gesture toward his battered state. “And when he couldn’t, you showed up at my door?” Your voice trembles as you take a shuddering breath. “Do you expect me to pick up the pieces?”

Leo glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and for a second, you think he might laugh it off, make some snide remark like he usually does. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just sighs, leaning his head back against the cushions, eyes closing.

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly, and it catches you off guard. “Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

You shake your head, frustration boiling beneath the surface. “That’s not an answer, Leo. You’re reckless. You put yourself in danger just for the thrill of it, and then what? You expect people to be there to bail you out?”

“I don’t expect anyone to do anything for me,” he says, his voice sharp, but there’s an edge of defeat in it. “Not even you.”

“Then why come here?” you press, anger rising. “Why not just go home and patch yourself up like you usually do?”

He opens his eyes, turning his head to look at you. There’s something raw in his gaze, something you’ve never seen before. It’s unsettling, like he’s letting you in, showing you a part of himself that he’s always kept hidden.

“Because I knew you’d actually care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

And there it is again, that vulnerability, the crack in his armor. It’s the one thing you never expected from him, and it’s throwing you off balance. You don’t know how to respond, don’t know how to deal with Leo when he’s like this—so exposed, so… real.

You swallow hard, looking away. “You’re an idiot, Leo.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, leaning his head back again, closing his eyes. “I know.”

Silence falls between you, thick and uncomfortable, but also strangely intimate. You can hear his breathing, slow and steady now that he’s stopped trying to act tough. His hand rests on his lap, knuckles still raw from whatever fight he got himself into. Without thinking, you reach out, gently taking his hand in yours, inspecting the damage despite just cleaning it.

He doesn’t pull away.

“You could’ve died,” you say softly, the words almost getting caught in your throat. “And for what? A stupid fight?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost pained. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I had.”

Your heart stops. You turn to him, eyes wide, but he doesn’t look back at you. He keeps his gaze fixed on the ceiling, as if he’s afraid to meet your eyes.

“Leo…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish. You’ve never heard him talk like this—so defeated, so broken. It’s like you’re seeing a completely different person, someone who’s been hiding behind that arrogant smirk for years, and it scares you.

“I’m tired,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Tired of all of it.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Then why do you keep doing it? Why do you keep putting yourself through this?”

“Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. You can feel the weight of them, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You’ve always known that there was more to Leo than the cocky influencer he portrayed online, but you never realized just how deep his insecurities ran.

You squeeze his hand gently, hoping to offer some kind of comfort. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. You don’t have to keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “And who’s going to help me? You?”

You meet his gaze, holding it this time. “Yes. Me.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The tension is thick, but there’s something else there too—something unspoken, something that’s been building between you for years. You’ve always been rivals, always been at each other’s throats, but underneath all of that, there’s been this… connection. This thing that neither of you has ever been willing to acknowledge.

Until now.

Leo’s eyes soften, his usual sharp wit dulled by exhaustion and pain. He watches you for a moment, like he’s trying to figure something out, and then, slowly, he leans in.

You don’t stop him.

His lips brush against yours, tentative at first, like he’s testing the waters, waiting for you to push him away. But you don’t. Instead, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft, but filled with years of unresolved tension.

It’s messy and imperfect, but it feels right—like this was always supposed to happen, like this was the inevitable conclusion of everything that’s ever passed between you. And for a moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other, everything else fading away.

When he finally pulls back, he looks at you with something like disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite believe what just happened.

“You…” he starts, but he doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.

You just nod, leaning your forehead against his. “Yeah. Me.”

And in that moment, something between you shifts. The walls that you’ve both spent years building up start to crumble, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re both just… there. Vulnerable. Real.

It’s terrifying, but it’s also liberating.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, Leo,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You don’t have to keep fighting.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling softly. “I don’t know how to stop.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you say again, squeezing his hand. “I’m here.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t respond. But then, slowly, he nods and buries his face into your neck.

“Okay,” he whispers.

And for the first time in years, Leo lets his guard down.