#dare I even say... How to Find Family in Space

[esteemedcrackpot]

Complete Notes from a Session of End of the Line; or, An Observation of Genre. 2023, pen on novelty sticky note.

[hearts4hughes]

ೃ࿔:･ wallstreet!rafe takes care of your ex

warnings: blackmail ; murder ; mentions of weapons ; descriptions of blood

your phone won’t stop lighting up.

buzz, pause. buzz-buzz, again.

you tilt it slightly on the desk, trying to hide the screen, but it’s too late. rafe’s already noticed. he doesn’t say anything at first. just glances at you over the top of his laptop, jaw working. then, with that low, clipped tone that means you’re seconds from seeing the worst in him, he snaps.“is there a reason your phone’s been going off all morning like a fucking fire alarm?”

you freeze. his voice doesn’t raise, but it cuts straight through. you try to speak, can’t. and that’s when it happens. your bottom lip wobbles

“hey,” his tone changes instantly. sharp edges dulled, replaced with quiet concern.

you press your lips together, like that’s gonna stop the tears…it doesn’t and you crack.

words spill in pieces.

“it’s my ex… he-he’s been texting, and calling, and-he has stuff. from before. tapes. and he said if i don’t talk to him, he’ll-he’ll send them out. to people. to my family. i don’t know what to do, i didn’t know who to-”

you’re sobbing now, hands in your lap, trying to keep it together in the middle of rafe cameron’s multi-billion dollar office.

he’s already on his feet before you notice. he crosses the room in a blink and crouches in front of you, brushing his thumbs under your eyes like the tears offend him. “hey, look at me.” you look up hesitantly, bottom lip jutted out and swollen from biting it. “you’re okay. no one’s gonna touch you.”

you nod, still crying, and it happens fast. his arms embrace you. he hugs you. really hugs you. not just arms around shoulders, he pulls you into him like it’s instinct, like you belong here, in the space between his ribcage and his breath.

but behind your back, he’s already planning. he’ll make a call. he’ll get a name, an address. and after that, it won’t take long.

~

within a few hours, rafe knows everything about him. two burner phones, one under his real name, one registered to a PO box in Jersey. cheap apartment, newer car, debt in five figures. he’s desperate…and stupid. rafe hates desperate men.

he doesn’t tell you when he leaves the office that night. just kisses your forehead like he always does, tells you to go home and get some rest.

he doesn’t wear gloves. doesn’t need to.

he finds the ex-boyfriend in a shitty little parking lot behind a dive bar, half-drunk and cocky. rafe doesn’t say much. just leans against the car, sleeves rolled, watch gleaming like a threat.

“you know why i’m here?” he asks.

the guy laughs like he’s not nervous, like his forehead isn’t dripping in sweat. “what, you her new sugar daddy?”

“something like that.” rafe sniffs and then pulls out the gun. it’s not flashy. not dramatic. just a click, a flash, a soft grunt as the man collapses to the pavement. rafe watches the blood stain the ground, pooling around the piece of trash who dared to mess with you. he crouches down, savoring the rattle that slips the man’s throat before his eyes roll back and his soul ascends. rafe’s pulse never spikes. not even once.

~

a few days later, you come into his office again, quieter this time. “he stopped,” you say, not meeting his eyes. “the texts. the calls. just…stopped.”

rafe looks up from his desk, expression unreadable. “good.”

you chew your lip, reading his skin like a book that you can never understand. “did you-did you do something?”

he blinks once. his face doesn’t move, still keeping his stone cold facade. “no.”

and you want to believe him. really, you do.

but later, when he bids you farewell, you catch the faint drop of blood on his dress shoes, and something in you wonders just how far he’d go to protect you.

and if maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to know the answer.

taglist ~ @sweetstrawberrianne @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @43hughes @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @wishfairies @kieeslove @jacklesluvr @futuremrscameron @rafesdaintyfawn @winterbarnesblog @starkeyszn @drphilssoulmate @xobimbobunnyxo @foolishseven @starsluvrr @luvonstyles

[thedivinetarot]

Light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul

Who is your future spouse?

☆How to chose the perfect pile?

1) Clear your mind.

2) Take a deep breathe.

3) Ask the question in your head.

4) Open your eyes and the picture that you are drawn to the most is your pile.

☆ Before you get into the reading you have to know the following:

- Please, please and I will say it again please do not think of anyone while you are choosing. Not your Ex or current boyfriend or even your crush. And I will say it again DO NOT THINK of any man as your future spouse if you want to have an accurate reading.

- This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave the rest. The future is not set in stone and the energy can change. This reading does not substitute any medical or professional help.

- I might do part 2 for this reading.

Stay safe ❤

Arya

Pile 1 - Bram stoker's Dracula

☆Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

I see that this pile have been lonely for quite some time and they are wondering if they will truly find someone. I see that you guys are overthinking everything about your love life and you are leaving no space for divine intervention. This pile’s energy is quite sad and tormented? You perhaps tell yourself that you don't need anyone but you truly want to build something stable and long lasting. I see that you feel stuck on I'm independent I don't need anyone mindset. Not because you really like being independent but because you are afraid of getting disappointed. The problem with this pile is the fear is literally paralyzing you and sabotaging any potential connection that can fit into your life. I'm also seeing that you might be someone who have been rejected and the pain of rejection is still vivid in your core memory. I see that you truly want love and to be loved! You might have a crush on someone with virgo or taurus placements. Or you might feel drawn to those type of men who embodies this archetype. I feel like you are kind of traditional towards dating. You might have had strict family or you really have a strong opinion regarding dating or hookup culture. This is your pile if you have strong virgo placements, water placements or the description fit you perfectly.

Who is your future spouse?

Pile one you might be manifesting your twin flame to be in a marriage with them? This person might enter your life so soon and above all you might get to know him online? I see that he might like your photos if you post yourself or he might just DM you through social media? This person is so grounded and stubborn. He is so earthy and stable in a generous way. He is the perfect mix between fire and earth. He is so childish or he aim to see infinite possibilities. I see that he is doing shadow work or he has been to therapy before. I see that this person is either a heartbreaker or been heartbroken many times. He is so naive or he seems naive? He might prefer texting over phone or video calls. There's an emphasis on his hair. He have curly and dark hair. His eyes are sleepy or he have sleepy eyes. There's something about his face, you see those people who have sleepy faces? Like they just woke up? I guess he might have that. He might look innocent and angelic. Like his aura is so comforting and serene. I also see that this person look younger than his age with hazel eyes. His style looks chill, like you see those guys who wear comfy hoodies? He might be one of them. I asked when will you meet him and the cards told me that you may meet him 6 months from now. You might be on a journey of self discovery when he enters your life. You might be losing weight and if you are not trying to lose weight; you might be trying to get in shape. I see that you are going to meet him after doing a lot of shadow work and inner reflection.

Pile 2 - The Addams couple

☆ Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

This pile is my daring and flirty pile. You might like your solitude but you flirt for fun. I see that most interactions that happen between you and the opposite sex are online. You might like to post spicy photos of yourself. Or send nudes to total strangers in public. You might like to take initiative in relationships. Even if you are a woman/female; you simply don't care about the traditional roles. Especially on who get to initiate to whom. If you like someone you are going to get them, I see that this is your moto. Also this might be your pile if you are stuck on a decision regarding travel. You might want to travel but you are juggling too many responsibilities and this is holding you back from actually pursuing that goal. If you are a man (since the dominant energy on this pile are men or masculines) you might be posting photos or nudes of yourself online. I see many risky photos and poses and if you are not a man or masculine then you might be doing the same action. You really value your own space; I see that you are protecting your peace at all costs. I mean yes you might like to flirt for fun with others but nothing really is serious and you are not looking for something serious either. This is your pile if you have significant leo or Aries placements.

Who is your future spouse?

Your future spouse is someone that you are going to meet through group project. At first as I said about your current energy, you are not looking for something serious so when you meet that person you'll find it kind of confusing. I see that you might be blinded at first. Like you might not notice them and if you are working with them you might not be attracted to them. They are not your usual type, they might be smart and quick thinker. This person knows how to take care of themselves. He might also know how to take care of women in general. Men might call him simp but he is no simp he is just so kind and empathetic towards women's needs. He is so determined, I see that once he put his mind on a goal he doesn't stop when he is tired, He only stop when he finish. I see that he LOVES to conquer a good challenge. He likes to to be assertive and he is looking for someone assertive too. He want his equal, his queen. He might look like he suit you? Wait let me rephrase it. You see that two people who are not dating but everyone in workplace ship them? You two might have intense chemistry. This person look like a heartbreaker. Eye color range from brown to gray or just those two colors. His hair is so silky or wavy. He have this confused look when he talk to you? He might even drag his feet while he walk, or he might look tired when he walk.

Pile 3 - Nosferatu

Where are you coming from? Your current love life.

Well, looking at the cards this pile is in their sweet feminine energy who wants princess treatment and to be spoiled. If this is not the case then this piles are for mothers or you are a mother or pregnant. If you are not pregnant and you are the girl who is in her feminine energy then I see that there's someone who wants to pursue you and he is so damn confident about it. I see that you guys are so confident in yourselves. Perhaps, you are someone who is working on their self esteem and self worth. I see that whatever the case you are in. It is going to pay off. For my girlies who are being pursued by someone I see that this person is very serious about you. He want to marry you quiet literally. This person sees you as his wife or future wife. I also see that this connection is meant to be and is distant to happen even if you are not aware of it. This person is quite civilized and diplomatic. He want to make you happy and cherish you, but if you don't want him it is your choice at the end of the day. I see a lot of happiness in this pile. Guys happiness is your middle name, since the energy or the cards I'm pulling are all yellow and yellow means happiness in tarot. Another energy I'm picking up on is that this pile doesn't really want to be strong and independent. Unlike pile one who is pushing themselves to be that way, this pile is accepting the fact that you want to be a stay at home mother or a rich wife of a rich dude. Most people in this pile are Venus dominant, have taurus or libra placement or have venusian energy in general. You guys might be the pretty girl in your friend group and everyone enjoys looking at you.

Who is your future spouse?

So right off the bat what I'm seeing is someone who have a lot of options. You know that one man who is wanted by every woman because of how friendly and charismatic he is? This man has this energy. It looks like this person is someone who has been heartbroken before and now he keeps his options open by befriending many girls and keeping his options open. He have the cup of love and he is so eager to give it to someone, I'm also picking up on someone passionate and eager to explore life. This person is sooo romantic in a cheesy way. I see that many times he attempted to get in a relationship but got afraid and back off from pursuing something serious. This person believes in manifestations or he tried manifesting an SO or future wife or this person really believes that he can create the reality he wants. This person gives off the vibe of a knight in a shining armor or a Disney prince tbh. This person look like a literal baby or he have baby features. He might have round or oval face. This man can be a little overweight or fat with blonde hair and blue eyes. He is so cute I'm seeing a picture of someone who look adorable and sweet. This person gives off the vibe of "I look good as a husband". But in general this person look so childish and baby like. Could look younger than his actual age? Or this person might be younger than you, but not so much like a couple months younger. He is so friendly or he have a lot of female friendships. This man gives off the ENFJ vibes Idk if you know mbti but you can Google it if you want to. He is so emotionally mature and caring. His energy is so nurturing. I asked the cards about when will you are going to meet him and they said he will enter soon into your life and one of the signs is a female around you is going to give birth or you are going to meet a pregnant woman or one of your relatives/friends will get pregnant. There's a NOTE for this pile specifically; if you are being pursued by someone this person is your future spouse. And if you are not being pursued by anyone then you might know who your future spouse is. And if you don't have anyone then take the reading with a grain of salt but you can enjoy it anyways.

Pile 4 - Hollywood couple

Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

This pile is truly stuck. I feel like I'm bored and desperate I want to cry. Like guys what is the matter? There's both boredom and stagnation. You might be someone who is really bored with how things are in your love life. I'm picturing a girl about 16 to 18 years old who want to be open to love but there's a man in her life (could be a male caregiver) who is very strict and structured. This man literally destroyed your well to date anyone. I feel like you are discouraged by the idea of love and I feel that you are unbalanced in a way? Like you are trying to protect yourself from getting hurt but at the same time you want love so freaking bad. I'm clinching my jaw and I feel like I want to scream and yell and kick things around me. Pile four why are you so angry? Please calm down! There's nothing in this life that deserve all this anger. Please take a break and go balance yourself and life. You are still young and have no experience and life is still long in front of you. I see that you might be waiting for something to happen; for someone to come in and rescue you from your life but nothing really happens so you pour all of your anger and resentment on yourself. Please stop hurting yourself and go find a hobby or something that can help you channel this anger and resentment. I'm picking up on someone who is bottling up their feelings and not really trying to express them. I also feel headache, do you have headache pile four? Are you bloated too? You might have significant leo and Aries placements. A little Taurus placements and sun, mars and sagittarius dominate. I feel like you are waiting and waiting but the waiting itself got bored of you lol. And you end up feeling devastated and angry. This pile’s energy is so rageful, please do some meditation or workout to get rid of that anger. You might also be scared of change? And overwhelmed by the idea of change? You might be someone who doesn't really like things to change and stick to a specific routine. Anyways let's get into the reading.

Who is your future spouse?

This person is very hardworking and workaholic. I see that the main focus in his life is his career, money and stability. This man is a little bit selfish, and he became like that because of how much he suffered. This person suffered from poverty, or he was very poor. He might even get kicked out of his family house so he can work and get them money. This person got bullied a lot by his peers and saw a lot of cruelty in his life, I feel so sorry for him. This person might be closed off emotionally, it is like he is trying to shelter himself from any possible heartache because of what happened in his childhood. I also see that when you meet him he might not be ready for anything serious or he might not really have healed fully from what has happened to him. There's an age gap here, he might he older than you or more mature. Like 4 years older. He might also be a co-worker of you? Or acquaintance If it is not then he might work with you in your field. The main challenge he is facing is stability, he want stability to be able to marry you. My advice for this pile is don't try to force things out if this person is not ready for commitment. He hasn't healed yet and his main focus is on the material. He might even use you if you attempted to help him financially so please don't. What really amazed me in this pile that this man is so materialistic, his love language can be gift giving. Now his appearance; this person look so cocky and confident. He have hazel eye color and sharp features. This person's back look hot or beautiful. He is not that tall, he is medium height. His hair is dirty blonde or chestnut brown. A foreigner? He might not be from your country. This man is possessive to be honest. If you met him after he get his ish together he will spoil you rotten but if not then don't try to help and heal him. You might meet him at the end of November to the most of December.

Post date: 25th/Aug/2024 - Sun

*Feedback is appreciated

[heyimkana]

SO- uh kingdom and empires type of thing- Sacrificial bride reader with emperor jin-woo. To stop the wrath of the emperor on the small kingdom, the king gives his daughter (reader) to emperor as a sacrifice.

everyone things jin-woo is a cruel emperor and many rumors are going all around the world of his cruelty, so reader is sacred to the bone when she is before jin-woo. (He's just antisocial so he doesn't want to correct the rumors just like how rumors of him spread after jeju raid)

Jin-woo being SUCH A SWEETHEART and giving reader time and space even after their wedding. (He fell for reader) So whenever reader tries to get close or do any action to make their relationship more comfortable, jin-woo internally goes over the moon. (He's smithen for reader and I'm all for it)

OMGOMGOMG EMPEROR!JINWOO 😩 okay so I know you want to see some cute fluffy lovey-dovey scene and we'll get there trust me, but hear me out okay what if it started out like this:

WC: 1.1 K | Warnings: Murder, slight gore

With his long, silky smooth raven hair cascading past his shoulders, and his fringe falling over his eyes like a curtain, Emperor Sung Jinwoo is a sight to behold. His features are sharp and breathtakingly handsome, his body, sculpted by the Gods, swathed by black robe from shoulders to toe. He towers above others with his intimidating height, his gleaming purple eyes bestowing fear upon those who dare to stare back into them.

The emperor carries a dangerous air around him wherever he goes, his hair often tied in a high ponytail with two sheathed daggers resting on each side of his hip. He charges first during battles, despite being the most vital piece in the kingdom. Fearless and undefeated, his name echoes throughout the realms. Every victory he's brought home was all because of his strength. Every peace he'd attained was all because of the blood he'd shed. Death follows everywhere he walks, the soil drenched crimson beneath his feet.

Cold and distant, the young lord is very efficient with his words, which often leads to people misjudging his character. Some people perceive him as arrogant. Most people see him as cruel and merciless with the way he treats his prisoners, but no one knows that behind the gates of his palace, he's a gentleman who holds his family dearly, who seeks blood only to create a world where his young sister could walk freely without men leering at her from the shadows. He takes care of his dying mother so earnestly with the tenderness that rivaled her own, his touch so delicate as he washes her hair every morning, despite having his hands constantly soaked in his enemies' blood.

Jinwoo defeats and conquers other kingdoms, killing their leaders in cold blood in front of everyone to see. They don't know that behind the scenes, their king and his subordinates are nothing but a bunch of corrupted men who took advantage of their own people. They thought the emperor brought chaos to their land, but his knights knew the truth. It was justice.

Emperor Jinwoo doesn't do forgiveness. If there's a man who murders or steals on his watch, then they'll be executed on the spot. No trial, no second chances, nothing. He holds honesty, virtue, and loyalty above everything else. And tonight, in this small kingdom he steps inside, he finds none, and so, the old town is littered with corpses of those who dared to dishonor a lady or betrayed their own kin.

The King of this kingdom, who offers his daughter for Jinwoo to take in exchange for sparing his own life, makes his blood boil the most. How could a father, whose duty was to protect his family, be so willing to give up on his only child, just to live for another day?

"I'll take your daughter," Jinwoo says in response, his gaze falling on the maiden's face. She's gorgeous, the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, but that's just it. She can offer him nothing but her beauty and a woman's charm would never be enough to reignite the fire within him, to restore the piece of humanity that has grown thinner and thinner with every throat he slit with his dagger.

The maiden, of course, shows repulsed hatred toward him. For all she knows, Jinwoo is an invader, barging into her land one night and slaughtering every warrior in sight. But as a princess, she has a role to fulfill and one of those is to bring peace to her kingdom no matter what the cost. And if her purity and her womanhood could win the heart of the new dictator to bestow mercy upon them, then so be it.

She walks forward and stands before the young emperor who brazenly sits on her father's throne with his dark robe smeared with her knights' blood. Some of the scarlet has stained his fair cheek, but even then, he still appears divine in some ways. The princess takes a moment to stare Jinwoo right in the eyes, unfazed by his overwhelming aura. She makes sure he understands that despite being nothing but a gift for his hand to seize, she deserves every ounce of respect he could show her.

Jinwoo arches his brow at the challenge but then he finds himself smiling. He rises to his feet, practicing his courtesy. "Forgive me, Princess," he greets with a bow of his head, his voice rumbling low and deep as he introduces his name. It brings shivers down her spine in all the most exciting ways though she'd rather be beheaded than admit it aloud.

Only then does she perform her bow. Blazing fire resides in her eyes still, a sign that she won't be so easy to tame, but for the first time in his life, Jinwoo feels... thrilled. Because of what, he's not sure yet. But he figures he'll find out soon enough.

He asks for her name and she gives it to him through gritted teeth.

"Do you love your father, Princess?"

She's taken aback by the question. Out of all the things he could've asked her... "Yes, my lord," she answers, a second too late than she's supposed to.

Jinwoo's eyes linger on the faint bruise blooming on her skin. It circles her neck like a pair of hands crushing her windpipes. His eyes glow as his voice turns a pitch lower. "Even after what he's done to you?"

She swallows. She's steeled herself for this, but the terror coming solely from his gaze still creeps into her skin. "Yes."

His lips curve up again at her answer, and she ponders, how could a demon like him, smile so angelically?

Jinwoo then leans in close, his lips a breath away from her ear. "I hope you're a better fighter than you are a liar," he whispers.

There's a mix of confusion in her glare, but the emperor no longer pays attention to her. "Close your eyes, Princess," is the last thing he speaks before he addresses her father, who stands nervously before the audience. She does as she's told as it is her duty now to do whatever he commands her to do.

Seeing the emperor accepting his gift, a wicked, victorious grin emerges on the King's lips but that's the only thing he manages to do before his head rolls to the ground. Startled gasps and horrified shrieks ring throughout the hall but before the princess can open her eyes to witness the headless corpse falling to the ground, Jinwoo embraces her from behind. His fingers gently cover her eyes, letting her stay in the darkness, hoping it will comfort her the way it always comforts him.

"You're with me now, Princess," he murmurs in her ear, and it rattles her bones. "I'll take care of you."

It's a promise and a blessing, but for a woman who has lost all her kingdom, her dignity, and her entire family in one night, it feels like a curse.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asks with a shuddering breath, to which he says—

[feirceangel]

How about a feyd x reader where feyd has reader watch him in the arena to gain her favor. She is impressed with him and respects his prowess. Just before a huge match what if she goes to him and leaves a hand print in paint over his heart as her token rather than a sash like the others. This fires him up/ looks super cool on his skin.

Ooh I love this!! I did my own spin on it but I hope you still enjoy! :)

Imagine | Stained (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Word Count: 1,377

Warnings: biting

Cheers rise into the polluted air on Giedi Prime, a torrent of frenzied noise which alerts you to the occurrence of yet another gladiatorial event.

You hadn't realized there would be one today. Normally, you notice the announcements and the crowds gathering to go see the festivities. You don't often join them.

Watching people fight to death. . . it's not a habit of yours.

Lately though, you've noticed how often Feyd has been mentioning his fights, never outright asking you to watch them but leaving plenty of hints.

Being from a wealthy family has its benefits, especially on a harsh place such as this. Ever since you've been here, you've tried to make the best of it and befriend as many native Harkonnens as you can.

This first, and dare you say only, friend-adjacent connection you've made has been with Feyd-Rautha.

His brother is too animalistic and angry for your liking, and the Baron is a ghastly man you do not like to interact with. Servants won't speak to you and the Mentat Piter is sickening in his sadistic tendencies.

So, to your surprise, you got to know Feyd the best out of them all.

He's brutal, yes. Menacing and violent as well.

And so alone.

Sure, he has his concubines: his pets that he plays with but soon grows bored of. And yes, he has his mockery of a family: a predatory uncle and a nasty brother.

Yet you can see past his façade of aloofness, see into his inner self. And what you see is a man forged by others into what he is now.

You see a hurting man who doesn't know anything close to true kindness.

So yes, he is wild and vicious. But there is an intelligence and cunning within those dark eyes that you have seen countless times. 

He's constantly observing, waiting for his moment to strike. He knows how to play his hand to benefit himself.

Despite his more undesirable traits, you'd dare call him a friend.

The cheering dies down as colourless fireworks burst in the air like ink stains. You watch them, casually leaning against the balcony railing.

Feyd finds you immediately, half undressed and still painted for fighting in the triangular colosseum.

"My lady," he rasps, approaching from behind slowly. "You did not watch the fights."

"It slipped my mind," you reply honestly. "Though I have no doubts you remain the champion, my lord."

His lips quirk upwards, "Naturally."

Your eyes roam over his blood splattered body, taking in the well-defined muscles which are decorated with paint. He's shirtless, how could you not stare?

He basks in your attention, cocky smirk never leaving his face. But it strains once you turn your attention away.

Feyd comes to lean against the rail beside you. You feel his eyes on you.

"You're coming to the next fight," he finally says once he realizes you're content to dwell in the silence.

You turn to face him with a smile, "Am I?"

His eyes narrow, voice quick and sharp, "Yes."

"You didn't ask."

Feyd tilts his head, "It's not a request."

"A command, my lord?"

"Yes," he repeats, leaning closer into your space. Your teasing tone is getting under his skin, you can tell. He's almost touching you now but you don't retreat.

This is the game you play.

"I suppose I can attend the next fight," you hum thoughtfully.  "Especially since you've requested it personally."

He backs away slowly and you force yourself into staying still even as you desire to chase after him. His close proximity is intoxicating.

As if he senses your inner battle, he grins and nods to you before sauntering away.

"I will put on a good show for you, my lady."

You find yourself alone, wishing he had stayed longer.

~~~

It was not mentioned again, and now you find yourself in your room preparing for the event. You dress modestly, still unaccustomed to the fashions on Giedi Prime. A black dress does nicely, with your hair loose. 

You still have plenty of time before your attendance is necessary, but you traverse to the arena despite this. The hallways are as colorless as everywhere else, a maze of black and white. 

Feyd is being dressed as you enter the room. His sharp eyes betray a smidge of surprise which he masks underneath an air of haughtiness. 

The servants attending him walk on eggshells, knowing that any wrong move could cause their demise. 

"You may be dismissed," you say, addressing the servants. 

Their eyes flicker to you with uncertainty. The servants do not move until Feyd snarls, "Do as she says!"

Instantly, they are gone. 

And it's just you and the warrior. 

You approach him slowly, picking up the paint pot that the servant abandoned. Circling him, you note how his eyes never leave you, even when he has to twist his head to keep you in his sights. 

"My lord, I hope you can forgive my impertinence, showing up here unannounced."

"Don't be coy," he narrows his eyes, "You're not sorry."

"You're right," you chuckle, swirling the paintbrush through the inky paint. "I'm not sorry to see you, especially like this." 

You rake your eyes over his flesh, barely concealed by a cloth wrapped around his waist. He is truly a fine specimen of a man. 

"May I?" You ask, stopping in front of him. 

He inclines his head. He hadn't been expecting this, since you seemed intent on avoiding the fights entirely. 

You begin by painting the smaller rectangles across his chest and then move to his back. Your brushstrokes are slow, methodic.

He anticipates each cool touch as you meticulously paint his flawless skin. He wishes it was your touch he was feeling, your hands against his skin. He craves it.

Next, you adorn his abdomen, barely concealing the excitement you feel being this close to him. As you finish, he reaches for his clothes but you stop him with a hand on his arm. 

"I'm not finished, my lord."

Intrigued, he returns his arm to his side, staring you down. 

You coat the palm of your right hand with the inky black liquid, never breaking eye contact with Feyd. He doesn't stop you as you press your hand against his warm chest, right where his heart would be. 

You start to pull away, but he is quick to grip your wrist, keeping you in place. For a second, you are concerned that you went too far. Maybe this is the day he kills you for your insolence?

Instead, he lunges forward, catching you in a hungry kiss. He bites and takes, and you surrender with ease. A sense of relief and excitement floods your senses as you kiss back just as passionately.  

"It is fitting," he says once he parts from you. 

He watches as you slowly peel your hand from his skin, leaving a perfect handprint over his heart. 

"What is?"

"That you should mark me like this," he grins to reveal blackened teeth. "You are a stain on my heart."

"How so?" You're still breathless, allured by his gravelly voice. 

"All it longs for is your touch, you vixen."

You caress his cheek, "I'm just marking what I own. And once you're declared the victor, you can come claim what's yours." 

Your words ignite a fire in him and he starts forward but you step back. 

His glare is venomous, as if you just deprived him of oxygen. 

"You have a fight to win, Feyd. Shouldn't you be preparing?"

Turning, you begin to walk away. 

A rough hand snatches your shoulder, and a hot mouth is on your neck before you can blink. He bites down harshly, drawing spots of blood. The pain is expected when dealing with a man like Feyd, but it is still surprising. 

You really have gotten under his skin. 

He releases the pressure of his teeth and drags his tongue over the wound. 

"You needed a mark too, my sweet."

You turn and press a chaste kiss to the top of his head, "Go make me proud, Feyd. I shall see you in your chambers after the fight."

He lets you leave, watching with blood stained lips. 

"As you command, so it shall be."

[please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!]

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 3] Wedding Night

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Mentions of Cannibalism, Smut, Slight Dub-Con, Virginity Loss, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Masturbation, Creampie, Slight Breeding Kink

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You swore that on the day of your wedding, you’d be the happiest woman alive. Being born a mere peasant and in a happy family gave you the option of marrying for love. But things change in the blink of an eye.

Neither of you really have families to do most of the wedding ceremony traditions, which cuts the wedding short. He has no interest in any of it, and you don’t feel any sort of joy while you commit yourself to one another. Perhaps you feel a twinge of satisfaction when you receive the title of Sukuna’s wife. 

If you die today, at least you won’t die as a nobody.

After the ceremony, he sends you away to your room. You’re not allowed to do anything even when you hold the title of his wife, at least not when your whims contradict his wishes. Therefore you’re left to sit in silence in your room, and you have no idea for how long you’ll be left in this state. He’ll visit you at night to get what he wants, and you still have a long way to go.

You’re staring off into space, your mind playing a filthy scene of how this will play out. He’s not going to be patient nor gentle, he definitely isn’t the kind. He’s going to fulfill his task and leave you seeking for pleasure once he’s finished. You aren’t expecting anything else, from what you’ve heard, men are selfish lovers. Though Sukuna isn’t exactly a man, you’re sure it applies to him.

“King Sukuna ordered for lady Kyoko to join you.” Uraume informs you before opening the door and letting the woman walk inside, not waiting for your response. She holds her head high when she walks into the room, wearing similar attirement as you. The servants don’t dare to look you in the eye anymore, the news that you’re the wife of Sukuna has spread, and they won’t dare test your authority.

Yet this woman isn’t scared of looking you in the eye, that’s all you need to know.  You have the authority of telling her to look down, but you have yet to find the voice.

“And who are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask her, wanting the confirmation that she’s been intimate with him before jumping to conclusions. There’s a hint of a smirk on her face, an aura of superiority around her. She sits directly across from you.

“One of King Sukuna’s dearest companions.” She sounds cocky, which gives you every answer that you need to know. “He told me to prepare you for tonight.”

“Right, of course.” You nod, feeling your face get warm. The cockiness goes away, and she gets serious as she begins to speak about Sukuna. She’s been ordered to tell you all you need to know for your first night with him, even though she clearly doesn’t want to speak about this.

You only hear about how to please him. You hear about everything you need to do to satisfy Sukuna, and how to handle two of them. You pick up on the jealousy as she explains everything, and it’s hard to ignore the way she glares at you.

You’re taking in every detail about her. She wears the makeup Sukuna expected you to wear last night: white powder, and red beni on her lips. The same makeup look that Uraume said made you look like a fool. 

“It’s not that hard, anyway.” She finishes. She’s staring you down, her eyes feel like they can burn a hole into you. Her gaze feels cold and nasty. “Though you don’t look like you can handle it.”

“I don’t think so either.” You don’t want to begin bickering and get on anyone’s bad side, even if you’re already her mortal enemy. You can’t lay it on thick. You look down at the ground, as if you were too ashamed to say it, “I’m not sure why he would pick me to carry his heir… Why didn’t Sukuna pick you, his dearest companion?”

“Sukuna? You dare call your king, Sukuna!” She yells, not really caring about anything else that has left your mouth. You dare call Sukuna merely by his name when you’re just a lowly human. “This should get your head rolling on the floor! No one calls King Sukuna simply Sukuna.”

“I understand your confusion… But I’m not just no one, I am his wife.” You correct her, fighting back on smiling as the words leave your lips. “I’m not sure either, we just met yesterday. He arranged a ceremony per my request this morning but it’s all too sudden.”

“His wife.” She scoffs, rising from her seat. A title that you don’t deserve, therefore she won’t acknowledge you as such. She doesn’t say anything else before exiting the room, leaving you to sit in silence once again. You could’ve handled the situation in a different manner, but regardless, you’re satisfied with your course of action.

“You’ll be having dinner with King Sukuna.” Uraume announces before promptly dragging you out of the room and where you’ll dine. You’re met with a long table filled with all kinds of foods, and your stomach growls, a hunger that you didn’t know you had, consuming you. Uraume takes you to the end of the table, the end that’s far away from all the food. “You must wait for him before getting your food.”

“Of course.” You nod in response. Every meal that you’ve been offered so far has been awful, but the food on the table makes your mouth water so perhaps the cooking changes when Sukuna is going to be present. “When will he show up?”

“He should be here soon.” Uraume tells you, before stepping away. The moment they step away, you hear the echo of his loud footsteps as he approaches the dining room.

He walks inside, sitting across from you and not even bothering to spare you a look before digging into the food. He’s taking it all for himself, and you’re too scared to even stretch your hand out. You’re too shy to ask for any food, but thankfully, you’re brought your own separate meal.

Your appetite dies down the moment your eyes look down at it… It’s very different from Sukuna’s. Either different people cooked your food or there was no effort put into yours. You try not to judge the food by its appearance, and take your first bite. You nearly gag when the food touches your tongue, but you try to remain polite and force yourself to chew then swallow.

“Is the food not to your liking? It looks like you’re being forced to swallow shit.” Sukuna speaks up, and you look at your plate in shame. 

“It’s bad.” You answer. He yells for the servants, and within seconds a group is gathered right before him. They’re on their knees, eyes staring at the floor in front of them, not daring to look up at him.

“Remake her food, and make it right this time.” He orders, and they respond in unison. The same response that Sukuna gets every time he speaks: Yes, king. Sukuna glances at you before glancing at the people that kneel before him. “Bring out the person that made the food.”

“What are you going to do to them?” You chime in, but you’re ignored. Your word doesn’t seem to matter when you’re speaking to Sukuna. He knows why you ask, and he doesn’t care enough. You’re bound to see some bloodshed eventually, you better start getting used to it.

“Uraume made the food.” He’s informed, and his opinion changes. He retracts his former statement, simply ordering that someone else makes it to your liking. He dismisses them, and continues to eat his food.

“Does Uraume make your meals?” You ask him, your question falling on deaf ears. It’s a situation where you speak when you’re spoken to, and he didn’t speak to you first.

“Kyoko came running to me, yelling how you disrespected me.” He brings up, and you raise your brows. Suddenly you begin to feel sweaty, nerves consuming you. “What did you exactly say about me?”

“I called you Sukuna instead of formally addressing you.” You confess, and you begin to think over and over again of how to begin your apology. But you know that an apology won’t be well received, so instead of saying anything else you look down at the table in complete and utter shame. “Which should be fine, no? We just got married.”

“It is fine.” He reassures you. “You have the power to be harsh. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarass you how?” You question. “Were you listening?”

“Don’t try to get under her skin, words won’t shed blood.” He ignores the question. “If someone dares disrespect you, you must make them pay.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt your dearest companion.” You answer, and he scoffs. It’s clear that she thinks highly of herself when Sukuna couldn’t really care less about her.

“You said it yourself, I picked you instead of her.” He responds. “She’s not so dear to me if I chose a woman I just met over her.”

“Right… I’ll make her pay next time.” You nod your head, but you’re not going to do it. You aren’t going to make anyone shed blood because you aren’t like him. 

You hear your stomach growl as Sukuna continues to eat, and you can’t help but ask, “Can I taste?”

“Of course.” He doesn’t even waste a second before stretching his arm out in your direction, holding a bowl full of food. Before your chopsticks touch the food, Uraume comes into the dining room and speaks up,

“He’s a cannibal.” Which makes you freeze in your spot. You retract your hand, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. It now makes sense why he has a whole separate meal, and why his meal seems so tasty even if it’s made by the same person that cooks your food. It should be a more shocking confession, but you’re not surprised at all.

“Why’d you ruin my fun!” He yells, though he sounds more annoyed than angry. He’s ignored by Uraume, truly the only person who has that power. Instead of listening to him, they put your new plate of food in front of you.

“I’m so sorry the food wasn’t to your liking, my queen.” Uraume bows down before you, and you’re taken back by it. You’re not sure how to respond, it isn’t anything that warrants an apology in your eyes. “I didn’t make the meal, another servant did.”

“Bring them in.” Sukuna orders, and Uraume rises from the ground. They walk away and you’re about to dig into your new meal, but his voice stops you. “Don’t you dare.”

“It looks fine.” You answer. The food actually looks appetizing, and your hunger grows by the second. But he refuses to give you permission, and you won’t dare defy him. “Can I have just a taste? I’m hungry.”

He ignores you, tapping his finger on the table impatiently. Uraume finally walks back inside, dragging the woman that cooked your meal by her kimono.

“It was her.” Uraume speaks, as the woman bows down on the floor, not daring to raise her head. Sukuna lifts her up by the collar, while one of his hands reaches for your food. He forces her mouth open and stuffs her mouth.

“Chew.” He orders, and she’s trembling in fear. She forces herself to chew, too slow for his liking. “Hurry up and swallow.”

Once she swallows the food in her mouth, he tosses her aside and puts the plate right back in front of you. He stares at the woman for a minute before he finally asks, “Do you think that’s good enough for her to eat?”

“Yes, my king.” She almost hesitates, but she knows that hesitating won’t do her any good.

“You may eat.” He directs his attention to you, and you nod in response. You feel nervous for the woman that kneels before you. She’s around your age, probably here for similar reasons as you, and her life hangs by a thread. Even if you hate the food that’s in front of you, you’ll put on a smile and pretend that it’s the best meal you’ve ever eaten.

Luckily, you don’t have to fake anything because the food that touches your tongue is one of the best things that you’ve tasted. You tell him with a mouthful of food, “It’s so good.”

“Then she’ll be your servant.” Sukuna responds before standing up and walking away. Uraume follows, leaving you to look at her in confusion, though she doesn’t dare to lift her head. What exactly does that entail?

“What’s your name?” You ask her.

“Hina.”

“You can lift your head, Hina. I don’t bite. I’m not Sukuna.” You can’t help but chuckle. She slowly lifts her head, and she finally gets a good look at you. Her cheeks slowly get pink as she stares at you, and she averts her gaze. “Please keep me company, I’ve been dying to have a conversation with someone normal.”

You wait in your room the same way you did last night. Uraume got you ready again, changing your attire into something more fresh and with less layers. They realized that putting you in traditional attire is just going to be a waste of time and resources since they doubt that Sukuna will be gentle with the robes.

You feel more comfortable this time around, feeling like you can finally breathe. You’re ready for what awaits tonight. Kyoko wasn’t the nicest woman, but she explained everything well enough. You had an idea of what was waiting for you, but now you exactly know what the night has in store for you.

You hear the sound of his loud footsteps, and you feel your nerves building up. This time around you don’t tremble in fear. You take a deep breath to calm yourself before he gets to you. She told you it’d be quick, and while at first it’s going to be uncomfortable, what’s to come will also leave you craving for more.

He enters the room, eyes immediately glancing down at you. You rise, remembering what she told you: First, you must help him get undressed. But before your hand touches the fabric of his robe, his hand stops you. 

The simple touch awakens something in you. Your hand tries to break free from his grasp, but it won’t move. A new feeling consumes you, and the thought of feeling Sukuna in every sense doesn’t make you tremble– Quite the opposite, you want it. You want everything he has to offer.

You’re looking up at him, studying each and every one of his features. He looks unusual, though that doesn’t mean he looks bad. He’s handsome in his own way, at least more handsome than the many men that you’ve come across with.

“There’s no reason for you to be in a rush.” He tells you. No matter how hard you try to break free from his grasp, he can hold back all of your strength without breaking a sweat. “I’m not running away.”

His hand goes under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He’s smirking at you, knowing he’s about to ruin you. Two hands are trying to take off your robe, which isn’t a hard task but he grows impatient. You’re hearing the fabric rip, realizing that he’s getting straight to the point.

“Can you kiss me?” Your words make him freeze in his spot. It feels pathetic to say but if you don’t ask, he won’t do it. He rolls his eyes before leaning down and pecking your lips, pulling away quickly. He continues to tear down the fabric of your robe, until it’s on the floor. 

He saw you naked yesterday while you bathed, but you still can’t help but feel shy when you’re completely bare in front of him. You don’t have enough hands to cover yourself, and even if you tried, he’d tear them away. There’s no reason for you to feel shy, after all, he isn’t going to inspect your body and look for any flaws it might have. He gets straight to the point.

He lowers his head, lips kissing down your neck to your breasts. His lips feel tender on your skin, a sensation that you would have never imagined to come from Sukuna. A chill runs down your spine as you feel his tongue circle around your nipple. You weren’t warned about it, but you aren’t unhappy either.

You squeeze your legs together, an increasing sensation between them with each of his movements. His warm mouth takes in your nipple, harshly sucking as his hand fondles your other breast. He pinches your other nipple harshly, making a whine escape your lips.

Sukuna bites down before pulling away. He kisses the valley of your breasts before his tongue swipes over your neglected breast. Your mind focuses on how his tongue feels on your skin, that you almost miss one of his hands traveling down your stomach and to your pussy.

A breathy moan leaves your throat, your body getting overwhelmed with what he’s doing. You were expecting a lot tonight, just not this. Two very large fingers spread your folds, and as a reaction, your legs squeeze together. You swear you hear a low chuckle from him before he bites down your nipple once again. This time your whine is much louder.

“I’m going to have fun with you.” He’s amused with this. He nearly drops you to the ground, but luckily he puts his hand under your head before it touches the floor. He gets on his knees while his hands go to your legs, nails digging into your thighs. 

He puts your legs over his shoulders, and you hold your breath, knowing what’s to come. You expect him to take off his robe, and finally do what you’re expecting him to do. You’re clenching around nothing, your excitement radiating through your body. He doesn’t make an effort to get undressed though. 

“No one’s ever touched you here before, right?” He sounds cocky as two fingers run through the folds of your pussy. You bite down your lip before shaking your head, making a smug smile come to his face. He’s proud of it. “No one else will either.”

Sukuna has never been one to care for virginity or purity of any sorts when it comes to sleeping with other people– With you it’s different. He picked you for your innocence, and getting the chance to ruin you in every sense is thrilling for him. Knowing that he’s going to be your first and your last lover fulfills him.

“What–” You begin when he begins to lower his head, though you’re cut off by a breathy moan that leaves your lips as his tongue runs through your pussy. His tongue lays flat on your clit, and you feel your breath get caught up in your chest as an unfamiliar feeling overtakes your whole body.

His tongue flicks your clit, and your back arches, shutting your eyes as pleasure overtakes you. He’s yet to do anything, yet your mind is clouded with sex. Is this what you were worried about? You can’t help but mutter, “That’s so good.”

“Be loud.” He orders, pulling away from your pussy. His fingers take the place of his tongue, lazily circling your clit with little to no pressure. 

“What if someone hears?” You question, and he scoffs. He’s never heard a dumber question.

“What? That you’re my woman?” He responds, and you feel your face get even hotter than it already is. You talk as if Sukuna doesn’t control everything and everyone that resides in the place, he couldn’t care less if they hear what he does. “If it embarrasses you, I’ll kill them.”

“No– Ah!” His mouth goes back down, his warm lips going straight to your clit and sucking on it. You feel as two fingers run through your folds, gathering the slick that your body has produced, before he pushes his middle finger into you. 

It’s an uncomfortable new feeling, even if his whole finger isn’t inside of you. He’s kind enough to give you a moment before slowly piping his finger in and out of you. His head rises from between your legs and he tells you, “Relax.”

“Can you put your mouth there again?” You quickly ask, and just this once, he’ll please you. His tongue messily runs through your pussy before focusing on your clit once again, using the opportunity to push a second finger into your cunt. 

He curves his fingers in a manner that makes a loud moan escape your lips. You can’t hold yourself back when Sukuna worships your body. You were expecting the night to head in a very different direction with your given knowledge, but you couldn’t be more happy to be proven wrong.

“Sukuna!” You moan, as pressure builds up in your lower abdomen. He takes his fingers out of your pussy, leaving them to clench around nothing but within seconds his tongue moves down to your entrance and he pushes it in. You feel his tongue move around, while his thumb begins to play with your clit. 

You look at him through heavy lids, your eyes shutting on their own as pleasure consumes you. He’s too focused on doing his task correctly to actually spare you a glance. You’d say that he’s enjoying this more than you are, but you quickly stop that train of thought. Sukuna isn’t the type to enjoy satisfying others.

Your voice gets caught up in your throat, your body becoming tense and your back arching as you reach the high that you’ve been told about– They always told you that you’d know when it would happen, and you never believed it. It’s an unmistakable feeling.

And just as you come down from that feeling, you realize that you’re getting to the part that you’ve been anticipating.

Your legs come off his shoulders, and Sukuna undoes his robe with such gentleness that your outfit sadly wasn’t met with. You swallow thickly, seeing his full body on display. You don’t consider yourself a greedy woman, but seeing him completely naked makes you want more. 

You need more. 

“Is it going to fit?” You can’t help but ask as your eyes land on the two dicks. One stacked on top of the other. They aren’t exactly small either.

“We’ll make it fit.” He says without thinking twice about it, and your thighs squeeze together. His palm goes to the front of your face and tells you, “Spit on it.”

You don’t have to be told twice before spitting on his hand. He uses your spit to coat his cocks before grabbing your legs, and wrapping them around his waist. Even when you see what awaits you, your desire and hunger for him grows. 

He takes his bottom cock into his hand, stroking it a couple of times before running it through your folds. You watch him bite down his lip as he slowly pushes himself inside of you. A whine leaves your lips, feeling uncomfortable as his cock stretches you out.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He says, waiting a second before he begins to thrust in and out of you. His eyes are nearly rolling to the back of his head, feeling too good as he feels you around him for the first time. He manages to remain stoic, as if this isn’t one of the best sensations that his body has felt in ages.

She was right, it is weird your first time, especially with how big Sukuna is. You’re too focused on this new feeling to allow yourself to feel any pleasure. But you’re sure of one thing, you’ll definitely be wanting more. With the way he’s made your body feel, you’ll definitely be begging him for more.

You watch as one of his hands begins to stroke the top dick, fulfilling his needs since he can’t expect much from you tonight.

“Sukuna…” You mutter, and you hear him groan as you say his name. You know he likes it.

“Say it again.” Sukuna is getting off at you saying his name. You feel a pair of fingers toying with your clit, and you feel that sensation once again. Your back arches, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as it consumes you.

“Fuck!” You loudly moan, instead of saying his name per his request. While he’s strict about people following his orders, he’ll let it slide this one time. He’s too lost in you to care about anything else.

“I’m going to fill you up with my child.” He tells you as his thrusts speed up. You’re squeezing even more around his cock, your second orgasm building up and washing over you quickly. “You’re going to give me my heir.”

He’s getting a little too rough for you, his thrusts becoming harsher by the second until he finally fills you with his seed. He gets you messy, his top cock making a mess and coating your stomach. He finally pulls out, leaving you empty. 

He’s taking deep breaths as he grabs your legs, bending your knees and bringing them to your chest. You’re too overwhelmed to say anything, and you know he isn’t one of many words.

He grabs his robe and puts it on once again, while you remain in the position he put you in. He doesn’t tell you anything until he’s finally dressed, practically out of the door,

“I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

[luviestarz]

lee haechan fic recs!

❤︎ I LIKE YOU (I DO) (L.DH) - @domjaehyun (stoner!haechan just wants you to know how much he likes you.)

❤︎ paperclip - @smileysuh (yandere, ex bf! hyuck)

❤︎ My Boy. - @prodbymaui (A series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.)

❤︎ kiss it better - @yeow6n (haechan gets hurt but you know that with him it’s not going to be as simple as putting a band-aid on it)

❤︎ sugar, butter, & the royal crown - L.DH - @haechwrites (prince donghyuck only has one princess on his mind, but she's not actually a princess. she's just the royal baker's granddaughter.)

❤︎ bus stop - @ooshu (haechan rides the bus. you hop on the same ride. minutes later, you two were a couple. he never questioned why.)

❤︎ strawberries & cigarettes - @hyudior (the art school's play is in two days and you're running out of time to put everything together since your known enemy lee donghyuck decided that the rehearsal day was the perfect day to release a launch party for his new album.)

❤︎ >> take my breath - @hyuckwrlds

❤︎ moles ♡‧₊˚ lee haechan - @sleeping-sirens (you read something on the internet that made you feel jealous of a person you didn’t even know but haechan knows just how to reassure you.)

❤︎ haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby - @hyuckmov (he used to be able to hide it. he used to be fine with glancing at you, habitually flicking his eyes to your chest when you would walk into the room or snuggle up to him. but now he’s totally fucked, because he thinks he’s developed some sort of addiction.)

❤︎ eyes tell - @tonicandjins (donghyuck has been trying to confess his feelings to you. third time's the charm, he thinks.)

❤︎ going below zero | l.dh - @cherryeoniis (Considering how much Haechan makes it his personal mission to antagonize you at work, it seems like a rather cruel twist of fate that the both of you have been side by side since middle school, the only consolation being that his office is a different floor from yours. But if there’s a saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, your attitude with him might just be the opposite, and it’ll take a family ski holiday to find out.)

❤︎ take my breath. - @sixzeroes (lee donghyuck did not believe in ‘love at first sight.’ key word: did. he does now, but only because you happened to fall into his arms on the icy road in the narrow streets. you’re going to render him breathless from the countless times your smile takes his breath away.)

❤︎ ice cream thief [ l.dh ] - @tddyhyck (someone has been eating haechan's favorite ice cream so he decides to put a hidden camera in the kitchen and living room thinking it's a shared space it shouldn't invade anyone's privacy... right?)

❤︎ tease | lee haechan - @hyuckiefluff (Playing spin the bottle definitely wasn't what you had envisioned for your first college party. And the last person you expected to see was Lee Haechan. But life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you, and this time it came in the form of the bottle landing on some drunk dude who dared you to kiss Haechan.)

❤︎ 𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁸⁺ - @goldyeokki (you and lee donghyuck both get along like oil and water. if it were up to you, you would be going about your days without even breathing in his direction. unfortunately you're in the same friend group and you have to tolerate each other. as handsome or attractive as people claim him to be, you hate his guts. there's so many reasons why you hate him, so why do you get butterflies in your stomach when he's near?)

❤︎ high (with my lover) [m] – l.dh - @yeonghosins (y/n smokes up with donghyuck for the first time)

❤︎ what the puck! - @choerrypuffs (you hit the university’s star hockey player with your car. shenanigans (and maybe even a little romance) ensue.)

❤︎ double take | l.dh - @cherryeoniis (friends to lovers, highschool au, slowburn, fluff, angst)

❤︎ Your Red Lipstick || L.DH - @ihaechans (Kisses, kisses, kisses. That’s all your boyfriend wants. When you refuse to give him the one thing he craves, he won’t leave you alone, begging and begging until you give in.)

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Yamazaki Shingen for the First Time: Sleepless Nights

G/N. 1.7k strangers to~. Soft. Arranged marriage trope. Masterlists

Disappointing, you've heard people say about you. Disobedient.

Troublemaker, should be seen and not heard, your mother chides you while your father just looks on with resentment, as if he couldn't believe they could have created such an insolent child.

In exchange for being the black sheep of your family, you're offered, kicking and screaming, to Yamazaki Shingen. Trading your life and freedom to elevate your family's name and standing.

If you can't be a filial offspring and make your parents proud, the least you can be is useful.

To everyone's surprise, the Yamazaki clan accepts.

.

.

With relief, you realise there isn't going to be a wedding night.

This isn’t a marriage. You're only one of many. No-one has been deemed worthy enough to sit by Shingen's side as the head of the family. This doesn't bother you.

Nor the fact that you have not seen the man you have been allegedly sold off to and you quietly count your blessings.

Instead, you're treated as an extra pair of hands, almost a servant. Spending your days helping out around the household with any chores and errands as they see fit. It's hard, gruelling work.

You collapse every night in your futon out of exhaustion and sleep takes no time at all.

It's still a better life than you had before.

.

.

Though the routine might be growing familiar, it's still a stranger's home and a strange room and a strange futon that you're lying on.

Tonight, the strangeness of your situation overwhelms.

You miss your old room, the softness of your old pillow on your skin, the smell of your own belongings.

Tonight, sleep is nowhere to be found.

.

.

You're greeted by a silhouette sitting in the courtyard.

Outlined by the moonlight, size more monster than human. Although in any other circumstances you might feel fear, this is the Yamazaki home, you think. No-one, not even monsters, would dare trespass.

You find your own space to sit in. You wonder if he even knows you're here or if this is two strangers letting the silence grow comfortable between them.

"Who are you?" comes his voice, and the peace breaks. It's low, almost a growl.

It takes you a moment to realise you didn't dream it and you tell him your name.

"I can't sleep." you add and you hear a sharp exhale of amusement.

He doesn't volunteer any information about himself and you don't ask.

Nevertheless, it's a kindred spirit, you decide. Someone else suffering from sleep evading them.

He continues to sit, still as a rock, and you join him. Breath deepening and eyelids growing heavier by the second. Your head drops forward, jolting you awake and you take your leave.

.

.

In the morning and for several weeks after, you're not sure if the man had been conjured up by your imagination.

If in your sleep-induced haze, your mind created someone you could relate to, no matter how trivial the bond.

You search but don't see anyone in the Yamazaki family that could look like him.

You almost mistake Shintaro for him, the Vice President who has been courteous if a little cold, except in your blurred memories you think the stranger has wild long hair.

.

.

Over time, you forget about him. Someone that could either be a figment of your imagination or as real as the floor you’re currently scrubbing.

You let your daily tasks wash over you. Following instructions without argument and keeping to yourself.

Your hands grow calloused and energy drains.

A state of overtiredness finally overwhelms you.

Where you can feel the fatigue deep in your bones, your body hovering in a state between conscious and unconscious, moving in a haze, yet your mind is alive and wired and sleep won't take no matter how much you toss and turn.

.

.

He’s there again.

But as the days grow, the nights are no longer as dark as it was and you can make out more of his features.

Your brain didn’t deceive you. His form is as large as you remembered, maybe larger. A good few heads taller than you and powerfully muscled. Hair long, like a sheet of darkness past his shoulders. 

“Evening,” you say as a way of greeting, your voice carrying in the quiet night breeze. His head snaps to yours, though you can’t make out his face.

You feel his gaze on you as you sit, folding your legs under you.

You close your eyes, enjoying the silence. Feeling the warm air on your skin and caressing your hair. No longer as frigid or cool as it was when you first stepped foot into the Yamazaki clan.

“Another sleepless night,” he says. You don’t know whether it’s a question for you or a confession of sorts for him.

In the end, you echo him, agreeing with the sentiment. “Another sleepless night.”

.

.

Curiosity keeps you awake rather than exhaustion or anxiety or insomnia the next night, wondering if the man is still there sitting like a lonely statue.

Your mind leads you fully this time. 

At dusk, you carefully slide the door behind you as your feet pad onto the soft grass, brain and body awake.

He’s there. In the same spot, in the same position.

It’s even lighter tonight, and you can see his features. His black eyes, the startling white irises, the emptiness in his gaze.

You do as you have done before, sitting down a few metres away. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, tone inquisitive. Your footsteps and movement have given you away. You’re much more alert, less sluggish, no longer moving as if in a dream state and he has noticed.

“I wondered if you were here every night.” You tell him, opting for honesty.

The silence stretches as you wait for his answer. Eventually you hear-

“Yes.”

.

.

The twilight meetings become routine. Only a handful of words are exchanged on a given night, if any at all.

Yet you have come to think of him as the guardian of your slumber. Some nights you drift off as soon as your head hits your pillow, and when morning comes, you feel a pang of guilt for not joining your companion.

He never comments on it, though you think his eyes are a little warmer whenever he sees you again.

.

.

At the change of seasons, when the day grows hot and sticky, you are summoned to Yamazaki Shingen’s quarters.

You had allowed yourself to forget that you are only in this household to be used for breeding potential, no better than livestock. 

Disregarded that the dowry the Yamazaki clan paid for you was too high a price for a simple servant and became so accustomed to your daily chores, pretended this day would never come.

At sundown, the head housekeeper, a crotchety old woman guides you to your doom.

You would have considered escaping if she wasn’t flanked by bodyguards, two men with matching severe expressions. You would have considered asking for help if your only companion, the person you have sort of befriended, was nowhere to be found in the courtyard.

“Master Shingen has been dissatisfied. He hasn’t been with anyone in months,” the housekeeper says, subdued and not breaking pace. She gives you a look as if that is your problem to solve. “The elders are getting worried.”

Good, you want to snap back. Let them be worried. Let this stupid clan die off.

Just as you’re about to say something you would no doubt regret, she stops abruptly in front of an oversized door. You almost careen into the back of her but the bodyguard’s hands shoot out and steady you.

“I’m fine,” you hiss, shoving their hands off you.

“Now in you go,” she rolls her eyes at your outburst, opening the door and pushing you in with her talons, “And do behave.”

.

.

Shit shit shit.

The room is almost pitch black, only illuminated by a sliver of moonlight through the windows.

Adrenaline courses through your body and you desperately will your eyes to adjust to the darkness, even as they dart around fruitlessly, looking for a weapon, for anything-

When you sense another presence in the room with you and you stop moving.

“What are you doing?” comes his voice.

Your breath hitches. 

It’s one that you have only heard sparingly but have nevertheless looked forward to hearing again. A figure you have sought out night after night.

“Is-Is that you?” 

A chuckle from the shadows. “Yes.”

Could this really be him? “Y-Yamazaki Shingen?” You stammer, a literal shot in the dark. 

“Yes,” he replies and you feel your legs almost buckle out beneath you. “Come closer.”

Incredulous at this twist of fate, you carefully make your way towards the centre of the room. Your eyes, at long last, are able to pick out the silhouette sitting on the bed, and that there is a bed. 

Does he expect... Does he want you to-?

“No,” he cuts in like he’s able to read your thoughts. “I want your company. Like you did mine.”

His white irises are practically glowing, boring into you.

“Another sleepless night?” you ask tentatively. Groping for an olive branch, for that connection.

“Another sleepless night,” Shingen agrees, and everything finally falls into place.

.

.

Like all those nights before, Shingen is a man of few words. He observes you as you try to find comfort in his space, in a room completely unfamiliar to you.

He finds a strange companionship, ease in your presence. You don’t ask for anything from him, and in return, he doesn’t ask for anything from you.

Except, well - this.

And only this. He has no intentions of forcing what you do not want to give.

As you lay your head down next to his, a small smile of relief on your face that things have surprisingly worked out, Shingen, to his own surprise finds that he’s smiling back.

For the first time in a long time, he falls asleep in his own bed. 

He falls asleep easily tonight and every night thereafter - to the sound of your breathing, and the warmth of your body next to his.

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (1/20)

Here I aaam! Remembering that the posts will be every Saturday.

So, enjoy it!

*I'm a little drunk rigth now, so, I'm sorry if you find mistakes*

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: A serie of events makes you fall into the good graces of two older women.

Hey! I've a masterlist

Fascination

You wake up to the first rays of sunlight slipping through the gaps in the curtains. Your bedroom is small, just 23 square meters, but it’s the only space in the world you can truly call your own. A study desk pushed against the wall, shelves crammed with books and notebooks filled to the last page, and plants scattered in every corner—ferns, succulents, and a small cactus that stubbornly clings to life even when you forget to water it.

After stretching, you get up and head straight to the window, where your plants greet the day. You talk to them in a soft tone as you mist them, almost as if expecting a reply. “You look beautiful today. I promise I won’t forget you again.”

Lucky, your overly talkative black cat, meows at your feet. He wants nothing but your attention, and you oblige, stroking his head with a tired smile. “Good morning, Lucky. Seems like you’ve got a lot to say, huh?” He meows back, and you laugh.

In the comfortable silence of the morning, your mind drifts, as it often does, to the past. You grew up in the suburbs, in a small house that was always full. Your father did his best to raise you and your five older siblings, but there was a gap that was never filled: your mother. She left when you were just a child, and though no one in the family spoke openly about it, her absence was a constant shadow in your life.

You remember the nights when your older siblings would laugh and argue in the living room, while you, the youngest, hid in a corner with a book or a notebook. Writing was your escape, your way of creating a world where you had control, where mothers didn’t leave and bad things always had a solution.

She left when you were little, leaving behind you, your five older siblings, and a father who never knew how to handle her absence. You remember the nights when the silence of the house was broken by questions no one dared to ask. Why did she leave? Was it us? Was it me?

No matter how hard he tried, your father couldn’t fill the void she left behind. He worked all day, came home exhausted, and did his best to keep the house running, but affection and kind words were never his strong suit.

“You’re strong. You don’t need to cry over this,” he’d say every time tears threatened to spill. Gradually, you learned to swallow your tears and convince yourself that you needed to be strong, even when everything inside you wanted to collapse.

Her absence shaped much of who you are today, though not in a way you like to admit. It’s hard to look in the mirror and not feel... inadequate. You wonder if she left because you weren’t good enough, because you weren’t good enough.

These thoughts are like shadows that appear at the most unexpected times, especially when you try to open up to someone. Intimacy is terrifying. You fear that if people truly know you, they’ll abandon you, just like she did.

In school, this made you shy and reserved. You always felt like a puzzle with a missing piece, unable to fit in. Your siblings tried to shield you from the worst, but they had their own battles to fight.

You were the youngest, the “baby” of the house, and yet you never had the chance to be treated as such. While they laughed and argued, you hid in your room, writing stories that transported you to worlds where mothers didn’t abandon their daughters.

This absence also gave you a fierce determination. You promised yourself that if no one was there to take care of you, then you would take care of yourself. You studied late into the night, devouring books on screenwriting and filmmaking from the public library.

When the college acceptance letter arrived, it felt like the world had paused for a moment. You’d made it. The first in your family to set foot on a university campus. Despite the pride, the insecurity is always there, lurking. The fear of not being good enough, of failing, of being discarded. You work hard because you feel you have something to prove, even if no one asked you to.

The sound of the bell above the door announces another day of work at the small café. You walk in, adjusting your apron with a resigned sigh. The air smells comforting, like fresh coffee, but the weight of the shift ahead is always present. You do everything there: serve tables, clean counters, even organize the stock. Your boss is an unpleasant man, known for his sexist jokes and invasive behavior. But you need the money, so you swallow your anger and keep going.

América, your coworker, is the opposite of you. Rebellious and fearless, she confronts the boss without hesitation, even knowing it could cost her the job. You make an unlikely team, but somehow it works.

As you wipe down the counter, you hear the sharp click of heels echoing through the café. The sound has a weight to it, cutting through the usual hum of the room. A barely perceptible pause spreads through the space, as if the air itself had been suspended for a second. It’s not just curiosity—it’s reverence.

Your gaze lifts almost instinctively, and it’s impossible not to notice the woman who just walked in. Tall, with perfectly styled dark hair and a black blazer that looks tailor-made, she exudes power. But it’s more than that. There’s something in the way her eyes sweep the room—a sharp coldness, as if she could dissect everyone there with just a glance. And people notice her. Some whisper her name, others try not to stare too long.

You swallow hard, trying not to seem intimidated. But when her eyes finally land on you, it’s as if the world around you has disappeared. She doesn’t look away, and the intensity of that moment makes your stomach churn. For a split second, it feels like she knows exactly who you are—all your fears, insecurities, and dreams laid bare before her.

Summoning what little courage you have left, you adjust your apron and force a smile you’ve practiced hundreds of times. “Good morning, what can I get for you today?” Your voice sounds calm, but your heart is racing.

The woman continues to stare at you, silent. Her dark eyes analyze every detail: the slightly worn apron, your hands gripping the notepad too tightly, even the stray strand of hair that escaped your bun. It’s unsettling, as if she’s assessing every tiny aspect of your existence.

“A caramel latte... and a black coffee. No sugar. To go.” Her voice finally breaks the silence. It’s low, gravelly, like distant thunder, and carries a strange familiarity—as if she’s used to being obeyed without question.

You nod, trying to stay professional. But as you prepare the orders, you feel her eyes on you, watching every move. The weight of her gaze is almost unbearable, like a test you didn’t know you were being forced to take. Your hands start to tremble, and an anxious heat spreads through your body. The feeling of being judged grows.

When you turn to hand over the drinks, the tension in your muscles is so tight that your hands falter. Before you realize it, the hot coffee cup slips, spilling the brown liquid all over the woman’s immaculate white blouse. The sound of the cup hitting the counter is muffled by the low, controlled sound of frustration that escapes her lips—not a scream, but a deep, restrained noise.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, your voice trembling. Grabbing napkins in a panic, you lean in to clean up the mess but freeze when you see the stain spreading across the expensive fabric.

The murmur in the café grows louder. Someone lets out an audible sigh, while another mutters something about “the mighty Rio” being treated so carelessly. The name hangs in the air, and only then does it fully hit you.

You knew she seemed powerful, but you hadn’t realized you were standing in front of Rio Vidal—one of the world’s most renowned visual artists. Like her wife, Agatha Harkness, she’s an icon. Together, they’re one of the few openly gay couples to dominate and be celebrated by the industry. Her fame precedes her, and now you’ve just spilled coffee on her.

The woman doesn’t say anything immediately, but her eyes—once analytical—now seem to pierce through you. There’s something terrifyingly calm about the way she looks at you, as if she’s deciding how much of a reaction you’re worth.

Before you can stammer out more apologies, your boss’s voice cuts through the air. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he shouts, his anger exploding. “How can you be so clumsy? A client of this caliber, and you do this?! I should fire you right now!”

The embarrassment spreads through you like the coffee on her blouse. Your eyes well up as you try to explain, but the words won’t come. All you can do is look at the woman, hoping she’ll say something—anything.

She, however, doesn’t even glance at your boss. Her eyes remain fixed on you, as if he doesn’t exist. Finally, she breaks the silence with a low, sharp voice: “That really isn’t necessary.”

Your boss stammers, surprised. “But, ma’am, she—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Her gaze silences him, and for the first time, you see a man who thrives on authority shrink back.

You try to catch your breath, your face burning with shame. With a thread of courage, you murmur, “Please, come with me. I—I can fix this.” Your voice falters, but there’s something in your insistence that makes her tilt her head slightly, as if weighing your determination before nodding.

In the restroom, the silence between you is heavy but not empty. You grab the spare blouse you always carry and try to gather your thoughts, but when you turn around, the air seems to leave your lungs.

The woman unbuttons her blazer with precise movements, and when she removes the stained shirt, she reveals a black silk blouse so delicate that the light highlights the curves of her collarbone and the edges of her lace bra.

Your gaze involuntarily drifts to her shoulder, where the skin reddened by the coffee looks almost fragile. The sight is intimate in a way you weren’t prepared for, and your face burns.

“I... I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have...” you begin, but your voice falters. Your mind is torn between the embarrassment of the accident and the hypnotic presence of her, which seems to fill the small space of the restroom.

“Do you always get this nervous?” Her question is unexpected, her voice low and laden with something you can’t decipher. It’s almost a challenge, a test, and her gaze remains fixed on you, as if expecting more than a simple answer.

“I... I don’t know. Maybe?” You look away, shrinking slightly as you hand her the clean blouse. It’s cheap fabric but carries the faint scent of your homemade perfume. When her fingers brush against yours as she takes it, a shiver runs down your skin, quick and unexpected.

She puts on the blouse slowly, unhurried, and her words follow like an echo: “You shouldn’t apologize so much. Especially when you don’t know what for.” The statement is intriguing, almost disconcerting. Your heart races, as if you’ve just stumbled upon something you don’t fully understand.

Before she leaves, you blurt out, the words tumbling out in one breath: “Please... let me wash your blouse. I want... I need to make it up to you.”

She pauses at the door and turns, her eyes locking onto yours once more. There’s something different now, a genuine interest, almost calculated.

Without a word, she pulls a black card from her pocket, elegant and scented with a faint woody aroma. “When it’s ready, come to this address.” Her voice is low but layered with meaning you can’t interpret.

She leaves before you can respond, her posture impeccable and her steps controlled, as if every movement were rehearsed. You’re left alone in the restroom, holding the card that feels heavier than it should.

Rio Vidal.

The name echoes in your mind. A short, strong name, as enigmatic as she is. And for some reason you can’t explain, you feel like you’ve just opened a door to something that will change your life in ways even the worst coffee spills couldn’t predict.

A few minutes later, you gather enough courage to leave the restroom. Your heart is still pounding in your chest, as if trying to remind you of the disaster that just happened.

You find your boss standing near the counter, wearing the same disdainful look that always makes your skin crawl. But something is different today. He doesn’t explode into shouts as you expected.

“Rio Vidal. The Rio Vidal—” He crosses his arms and sighs, as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say, “—said it was fine. And she was very clear that you shouldn’t be punished.”

You blink, confused. The black card in your hand feels heavier now. Why would she do that? Was it pity? Some kind of veiled charity because of your desperation? Or... something more?

The woody scent of the card wafts up to you, a tangible reminder of the woman who, even with coffee spilled on her expensive blouse, had remained impassive and enigmatic.

“Get back to work before I change my mind,” your boss grumbles, but his tone has lost its usual edge. You don’t argue, just tuck the card into your pocket, still feeling every embossed letter like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

[...]

You practically run to the university. Your legs ache, but it doesn’t matter because today is important. When you finally reach the worn-down building that houses the film department, you can barely catch your breath. The room is packed with anxious students, and excited whispers fill the air.

“You’re almost late!” Darcy whispers, pushing a notebook aside to make room for you. Her eyes are wide, nervous. “Agatha Harkness is already here.”

Her name makes your heart race, in a completely different way from the panic you felt before.

Agatha Harkness.

The legend. The queen. The woman who made actors cry on set and screenwriters question if they were good enough to write even a single line of dialogue. She was a monster… but undeniably a genius. Everything that came from her hands was masterful, and you secretly harbored an absurd admiration for her.

Peter, sitting in front of you, whispers to Darcy, “Do you think she’s going to rip someone’s heart out today? She did that the last time she visited a university…”

Darcy, next to him, makes a face. “On the first day?”

“Without a doubt,” Peter replies, shrugging.

Before you can respond, the door swings open. The sound of her heels is the first thing that fills the sudden silence. And then she enters.

Agatha is everything you imagined and more. Tall, dressed in an impeccable purple suit that seems to radiate authority, with a smile that borders on cruel and eyes that scan the room as if evaluating every soul present. Her presence is a punch to the stomach, yet at the same time, something in you feels magnetized by her. It’s impossible to look away.

She wastes no time with warm introductions. Instead, she tosses a stack of papers onto the desk and begins speaking. Her voice is deep, firm, and filled with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

“Writing is an act of courage. And from what I’ve heard, many of you have been content with mediocrity.”

The students exchange nervous glances. Darcy practically sinks into her chair beside you. You, on the other hand, feel your heart race even more. There’s something hypnotic about the way she speaks, as if every word is carefully sharpened to cut.

“Now, here’s what you’re going to do.” Agatha steps up to the blackboard and writes something with an elegant pen. “Write a scene. Any scene. But make it something worth reading. Because if I think you’re wasting my time…” She lifts her gaze, and the silence that follows is more threatening than any word. “—your nonexistent careers won’t even start.”

Agatha picks up the first stack of papers and starts reading in silence, her eyes moving rapidly from side to side. The room is absolutely silent, so quiet that the sound of students breathing feels deafening.

After a few seconds, she lets out an almost exasperated sigh and lifts a paper, holding it up as if it were evidence of a terrible crime.

“Who wrote this?”

A girl in the back of the room timidly raises her hand, almost regretting existing.

Agatha narrows her eyes at the paper, then at the girl. “Is this a love story?”

The girl shakes her head, mumbling something about the plot being deeper than it seemed.

“No. It’s not.” Agatha cuts in, her voice as cold as steel. “This is a cheap fanfic disguised as a script. Characters with no substance, dialogues recycled from a teen drama. Where is the humanity? Where is the real conflict? This isn’t writing. This is a murder of art.”

The girl seems to shrink into her seat.

Agatha tosses the paper onto the desk and picks up the next one. This time, she doesn’t read for long before looking up. “Who thinks it’s acceptable to start a scene with ‘Once upon a time’ in an academic assignment? Are you trying to sell an idea or put a child to sleep?”

A boy in the front row tries to justify his choice, but Agatha raises a hand, cutting him off.

“I’m not here to hear excuses. I’m here to see talent. And so far, I’ve seen nothing worth my time.”

The silence in the room is palpable. You see Darcy whisper something to Peter, probably something like “Yeah, definitely heartless,” but you can’t focus. Your own script is in your hands, and the weight of the paper feels like lead.

Finally, your turn comes. With trembling hands, you hand the sheet to Agatha Harkness, feeling as if you’re handing over a piece of yourself. She takes the paper with an almost deliberate calm, and for a moment, you’re sure she’s going to toss it onto the “failures” pile without even looking.

But then, something in the title seems to catch her attention. Her eyes, previously indifferent, narrow slightly, and she begins to read.

Seconds turn into eternities as you watch her. The room around you fades away; all you can hear is the sound of your own heart pounding against your ribs. Your mind drifts back, inevitably, to the moment you wrote those words—the weight of the story, the piece of your soul you decided to share.

Agatha turns the page. Once, then again. Her silence is like a knife. You don’t know if this is good or bad.

When she finally finishes, she places the paper on the desk. Unlike the others, she doesn’t discard it immediately, but she also doesn’t show approval. Her eyes lock onto you, assessing, and there’s something new in her expression: a trace of curiosity.

“Interesting.” Her tone is neutral, but there’s something hidden in it—a hint of intrigue, perhaps? She leans forward slightly, crossing her arms. “Are you trying to tell a personal story?”

Your face burns instantly, and you feel the weight of all the eyes around you. Still, you find the strength to nod in confirmation, even as shame nearly swallows you whole.

“Hmm.” Agatha raises an eyebrow, pressing her lips into a thoughtful line. “You have no technique. No structure. The writing is messy, almost amateurish.”

Her words cut deep, and you bite your lip hard to keep the bile from rising in your throat.

“But…” She pauses, looking at the paper with unsettling intensity. “You have—” then, she focuses on you, and seeing those ocean-blue eyes so close makes your body tremble. “—something.”

Her choice of words is as vague as it is provocative, and you feel the weight of that “something” hanging in the air between you. She narrows her eyes, as if trying to figure out exactly what it was in the text that caught her—or in you.

“Stay after the bell rings.”

Her voice is final, like a sentence, but there’s no hostility. She dismisses you with a slight wave of her hand, and you feel a mixture of relief and anxiety as you return to your seat.

While the others hand in their scripts, you remain restless, trying to decipher Agatha’s expression and the reason behind her words. What in your text could have caught her attention? The room around you is filled with muffled murmurs, but in your mind, it’s as if you’re trapped in a storm.

As soon as the bell rings, only three people remain in the room besides you. The silence is dense, heavy with expectation, as Agatha moves with the same deliberate calm as before.

Of course, she already knows exactly what she’s doing. This special, hand-picked mentorship was clearly a strategy to appear more "kind" to the public, even though, so far, there had been nothing friendly about her approach.

You watch as she begins the individual feedbacks, calling Darcy first. The girl in front of you seems to be caught between hope and terror but agrees to step forward. As Agatha starts speaking to her, you try to distract yourself, but you can’t stop your eyes from wandering back to the director.

She is... magnetic. Even as she crushes Darcy’s creative dreams with precise, cutting words, there’s something about her that simply demands attention. And then it happens.

For a moment—or perhaps for all eternity—her blue eyes meet yours.

Your throat goes dry instantly. It’s impossible to interpret what’s in that gaze, but it hits you hard. Curiosity? Judgment? Or something else? You try to look away, but it’s as if you’re trapped. She stares at you for only a few seconds before returning to her conversation with Darcy, as if nothing had happened. But you know it did.

Your heart pounds so loudly it feels like it echoes in the empty room. Nervousness is consuming you, but there’s something else, a sensation you weren’t expecting. A tightness in your stomach.

Desire? Nervousness? Anxiety?

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to take a deep breath and organize your thoughts, but it only makes things worse. It feels like she has pulled a piece of the air around you away with just that look.

Time moves slowly. Agatha finishes Darcy’s feedback, moving on to the next student. And then, when your turn finally comes, you don’t know if you’re ready—or if you ever would be.

She calls your name firmly, and you stand up. Your legs feel weak as you walk toward her, carrying the weight of her expectation and your own desire to impress her.

“So,” she begins, crossing her arms, her sharp gaze settling on you. “Let’s talk about what you wrote.”

As soon as you sit before her, Agatha picks up your sheet of paper, holding it carefully, as if she were carrying something precious—or something dangerous. She doesn’t say anything right away, just fixes her eyes on the text for a few seconds before beginning to read again, this time out loud:

"One day, I had a dream about my mother. She was married to the man she truly loved, and without children. There, I had never seen her so happy."

Her voice is deep, but it carries a softness you didn’t expect. It’s as if she’s savoring each word, analyzing every nuance.

When she finishes, Agatha places the paper on the table with a controlled gesture and looks directly at you. The silence that follows seems to last an eternity.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of that gaze, as if she could see every secret you tried to hide.

“Is your mother the main character here?” The question is direct, blunt—like everything about her.

You feel your face heat up, looking away. “I... maybe?” you murmur, the words hesitant.

“No need to lie,” she interrupts, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “The text screams it. Every line, every word choice… it’s as if you were exorcizing a ghost. Tell me, is that what you tried to do? Exorcize the guilt of loving and hating at the same time?”

The brutality of the question leaves you speechless. You shift in your chair, uncomfortable, but she doesn’t seem inclined to ease the tension.

“Did she leave you?” Agatha presses, her eyes locked onto yours, as if she could pull the truth out of you by force.

You hesitate but finally let out a shaky sigh. “Yes.”

For a moment, her face seems to change. Something in her gaze softens, but only for a fraction of a second before she composes herself again.

“And yet, you chose not to hate her.” She tilts her head, as if studying a particularly intriguing piece of art. “That is… rare.”

“I think that… she did what she thought was best for her,” you reply, your voice almost a whisper. “I don’t blame her for seeking happiness, even if it hurt me.”

Agatha remains silent for a few moments, as if processing something. There was something in the text—or maybe in the way you spoke—that seemed to touch an old wound in her. A shadow passes over her face, but she quickly pushes it away, replacing it with a neutral expression.

“You have talent,” she declares, breaking the silence. “Still raw, but it’s genuine. And, more importantly, you have courage. The kind of courage I’m looking for.”

You blink, confused. “Looking for?”

Agatha leans forward, her eyes gleaming with dangerous intensity. “I’m assembling a team for my next project. I need minds that think like yours—that see beyond the surface and aren’t afraid to explore the shadows. Would you be interested?”

Your heart races. Working with Agatha Harkness? The woman you admired, even feared? It was more than you could have imagined, but the answer was obvious.

“Yes,” you respond quickly, barely able to contain the excitement in your voice.

Agatha smiles, and the gesture is as enigmatic as the rest of her. “Good. Get ready, little gem. I’m going to shape you piece by piece," The way she spoke was hypnotic, pulling you in. “and it will be… painful.”

As soon as you answer affirmatively, Agatha pulls something from the pocket of her purple blazer: a business card. It’s blue, with purple lettering in an elegant cursive font. The floral scent of the paper fills the air as she slides the card across the table toward you.

“Come to this address tomorrow,” she says, her voice firm but low, as if each word were chosen with care. “Seven at night. And don’t be late.”

You take the card with trembling fingers, its weight feeling heavier than it should. The moment you touch it, a wave of déjà vu washes over you. The texture, the scent, even the sophistication of the design remind you of the card Rio gave you earlier.

Two women so different, and yet… so similar. Both had a presence that seemed to capture the room, leaving you breathless. Both seemed to see through you, as if they could decipher your deepest thoughts with a single look.

You feel your heart speed up, confusion mixing with excitement. Why had these women, so powerful and enigmatic, captivated you so much? Rio had left something in you—a sense of unresolved mystery. Now, Agatha was doing the same, but in an even more intense way.

“Something wrong?” Agatha’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present.

“N-no,” you reply quickly, slipping the card into your backpack. “I’ll be there.”

She only tilts her head, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before turning and leaving the room. Her silhouette disappears through the door, but the weight of her presence still lingers—heavy, inescapable.

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, a single question echoes in your mind: What the hell were you getting yourself into?

And more importantly, why couldn’t you stop feeling excited about it?

~*~

Y/n... How lucky you are, huh?

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[malavera]

Logan: "I'm right here, Bub." (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: You had a fight with your father, he pissed you off so much you ran off to Logan's for comfort. But is that all you want?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. Legal age gap, Unprotected sex, logan has a big cock, reader wanted creampie, reader is called peach, daddykink, foul language, spanking, choking, basically SMUT.

an: concept is inspired after reading @plutodexay-nsfw's thoughts/ideas i hope i got the permission to write this one! This one's dedicated to you!

🏷️: @robynanthonystark @joelsgoldrush @bpmiranda @bobateababe @simonwifu @weallhaveadestiny @daddy-hugh-jackman @suchasweetieee @kholdkill @superhoeva @narjuko @wcndercore @bontensbabygirl @weallhaveadestiny @heart-0f-silk @peachyystuff @the-occasional-artist1125

this is part 4 from my series called Peaches, you can read it as a standalone! if you wish to read the previous ones, click here.

🍑 Check out my other works here

🍑 Logan masterlist here

🍑 do buy me a coffee if you like this one ;)

“Logan! … Logan! Where are you?!”

You storm into his house like a burglar ready to hit the jackpot, the wind rushing in with each determined step. You're on a mission to find the six-foot, muscular beast of a man—and complain about what a complete jerk your father is. How dare he come back from his long-awaited business trip with a woman on his arm, declaring she’s the one he’s going to marry—after all this time since your mother’s death. You put up a hell of a fight back there, screaming and crying, saying that you will not accept that woman as your step-mother as there will be no one that can replace or resume your mother's love.

Logan knew about this. Your father had a long conversation with him, asking whether it would be a good idea to introduce this woman to you. Logan didn’t want to come off as a know-it-all, even though he is, but he steered clear of family matters. Still, if your father had asked for his honest opinion, he’d have told him it wasn’t the best idea—you’re not emotionally ready for something like this.

And then you were off, rushing to Logan’s, even though your father yelled your name countless times. His new girlfriend held him back, urging him to let you be for a moment, to give you some space.

“I’m right here, bub.” Your head snapped toward the sound of his voice from the kitchen, where he stood, a mix of pity and disappointment etched on his face. His eyes reflected sadness, but there was also a glimmer of understanding; he knew how you felt, even if he believed you should show more respect to your father.

You exhaled sharply before rushing to him, enveloping him in a tight hug. His body radiated warmth, and with each passing moment, your anger melted into a puddle. Sobbing into his neck, Logan wrapped his arms around you tighter, his hand gently caressing your long, soft hair as he shushed you. “There, there, calm down, Peaches,” he cooed. He lifted you off your tiptoes, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Holding you close, he made his way to the living room, settling down on the couch with you in his embrace.

“I hate him. I hate him so much,” you murmured into his neck, grumbling a bit as your anger began to bubble up inside you again.

“I know, Peach, I know. It’s okay—just calm yourself, okay?” Logan gently pulled you away to face him, wanting to see those beautiful eyes, even if they were now clouded with tears. Your eyes were bloodshot and red, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sniffled, struggling to hold back the snot threatening to escape.

You sighed, looking down, pouting. "I need you, please..." You whispered, your hands fisting his buttoned up shirt.

"What do ya need, Peaches?" His eyes searching for yours, looking for your honest answer.

"I need to fuck you, please. Please give me what I want." You pleaded, finally looking at him as your hips started to move on his lap a little.

Logan’s eyebrows knitted together, torn between giving you what you wanted and being the better man who took care of you. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sickness in his gut; even as you cried, he found you utterly adorable and breathtaking. He wanted those tears to be from pleasure, that only from him you would receive. He wanted those tears to be from the pain of taking his big cock, his hips piston while fucking you hard. Too bad, the day he saw those tears streaming down those kissable cheeks, was from every little girl's first love, their father.

“Please,” you pleaded once more, pressing your face closer to his, connecting your swollen lips to his soft ones. You began to peck and kiss him all over. The kiss was charged with your wants and needs, the urgency evident in its hurried pace. Short breaths mingled as your tongues swirled together.

Logan couldn't find the words; all he could do was surrender to your control. In that moment, he convinced himself it was okay—as long as it was what you wanted and it made you happy, he would give in. Because why? Because he was in love with you. He knew it was complicated, that he should be cautious given the age difference, but from the moment he laid eyes on you, he vowed that you were meant for him and him alone.

The fabric of his jeans felt rough against your exposed skin once you started grinding on him. The tent in his pants started growing each time you ground yourself more to him. Soft moans and pants coming out of your lips as you ground yourself more on his bulge. You placed both of your hands on his shoulders, supporting yourself to grind more on his lap. Logan leaned back and scootch his bum a little lower so you'd feel more comfortable moving on top of him. His arms that were wrapped around you now lay defenseless on his sides, as he now lets you do whatever you want on him.

"This what you want, Peaches? To use me?" Logan grunted, his eyes watching yours as you screwed them shut and whimpered.

"Please—Need... More," you whimpered. You moved a little to sit on his thighs as your hands found their way to the band of his jeans.

"Peach," Logan spoke, he wanted to stop you right there but he himself is not even sure if he should stop this moment right here and right now. You fumbled with his jeans attempting to undo it and once it's done, you pulled his jeans along with his boxers a little, enough to free'd what you're looking for.

Logan grunted once his cock released to open air, slapping against his clothed abdomen. You gasp, even though you've seen it, it never fail to always leave you breathless. His cock stand tall and proud, and you couldn't help but immediately scootch off his lap, until your knees hit the soft carpet, to grab him with both hands and put the tip inside your warm mouth.

Logan nervously moaned from the feeling of your warm tongue twirling around his tip that keeps throbbing from the way you suck on his cock. You purposely let some of your saliva spilling out of your mouth down to his balls, as you let one hand reached down to knead his balls in your hand.

"Argh, god." Logan grunted, screwing his eyes shut, tossing his head back. His hand found your head, as he fisted some of your hair. "Peach," he choked out a moan.

You whimpered before you started to bob your head up and down his cock, purposely making a mess with your saliva. The slurping and squelching sound from sucking his cock is the only thing that fills the quiet room, along with Logan's constant grunts and heavy breathing.

Giving him a couple of bobs before you release his cock from your hold, Logan grunted in surprise. You pushed yourself back up on your feet as you attempted to pull your panties off. Logan could literally smell your arousal leaking down your needy cunt. You pushed him to lean against the cushion as you mount on his lap before grabbing on his cock giving him a couple of pumps while you aim his cock at your entrance.

"Peach, peach—Wait... Baby, I gotta get us a condom." Logan hastily stop you right there but you whined and hold him by his chest.

"I need to feel all of you, Daddy, Please." Before Logan could say anything, he moaned once he felt you sinking down on his cock slowly while you looked down mouth agape slightly trying to hold down the pain from his monster cock tearing your walls.

Logan wished he'd claim your innocence in some other way, other than this. He wanted it to be special, to be memorable for you, but if this is what you want, and he'd hoped this would be memorable enough for you, then so be it.

He grunted through his gritted teeth, trying to hold himself from combusting in you right there and now. The way your tight walls choking his thick cock, it feels like as if he was getting choked by his neck. Your tight cunt felt so good around him, he wanted to take the matters into his own hands and fuck you hard right there.

"Baby, can you move, please?" Logan, is the one who pleaded.

You whimpered before nodding your head as you started to move yourself up and down his shaft. Once you get the hang of it, you place both of your hands back on his shoulders. Eyes bore into his as his into yours while your lips spill out the prettiest moan he's ever heard from you.

"God! Logan, you're so big." Logan lazily smirked.

"I know baby, I know you can take it. Come on, work that pussy on daddy's cock. Use, me baby." Logan whispered, his hand found its way to your nape, pushing your head closer to him to connect your forehead against his.

You started to screw your eyes shut, whimpering once you feel him move his hips along your rhythm. "So good, daddy." You sobbed.

"Yeah? Need to fuck that anger away on my cock, don't you, Peaches?" He reminded you why you needed his cock. To fuck your pain and anger away. The little girl that was once fragile on top of him all of a sudden snapped into someone even you don't recognize. Someone sinister that has been long living inside you.

You snapped your eyes open, eyebrows knitted together before pushing your head off disconnecting from his forehead. Logan keeps his face neutral, looking at you and groaned when he felt your hand wrapped around his throat. You started to move your hips rapidly, like riding a horse to make it gallop fast.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Use my cock, come on, make yourself feel good. I know you're mad, baby. I know you do, come on, fuck my cock. Faster—Harder!" Logan gave your ass a couple of smack earning a loud moan from you, resulting in getting a rapid move from your hips.

"Yeah... There's a good girl," Logan whispered. "Come on, baby, I know you can do better than that," Logan coo'ed when he felt your hand attempted to squeeze his neck. He almost laughed at you on how pathetic you are, trying to control him.

So he reminded you, even though you're in control, who's the captain of this ship.

Logan's hand found your neck, as you choked out a moan. His squeeze was far from choking you but it felt like he was. He started to thrust his hips upwards, fucking your throbbing pussy; the squelching sound could be heard. His semi-saggy-and-heavy balls slapping against the bottom of your ass, sounding like a clap.

"Awh—Daddy!" You pathetically moaned for him. "Daddy—Yes! Right there, like that—Please! I wanna cum." You pleaded.

"Come on, Baby, cum f'r me."

"Ah—!" You shrieked with your eyes screwed shut as your whole body stuttered reaching your orgasm, coming down on his cock.

"There... We go." Logan helped you ride off your orgasm by still softly fucking your cunt. "Now come on, make daddy cum. Daddy wants to cum too." Logan whispered before he begin to fuck you back, fast.

"Ngh—Daddy! ... Does my cunt feel good around your cock?" You softly spoke, looking down at him flexing your doe eyes and your famous pout while Logan's bore into you, his mouth fell agape slightly as his main focus was to reach his high.

He panted, he groaned, while you're there on top of him doing nothing but letting him use your cunt. "Grrh—Fuck! 'M gonna cum." Logan grunted and now you started to fuck him back forcing his hips to stay down.

You rode him fast, faster than before to help him reach his high. "PEACH—GET OFF!" He boomed but you refused to listen to him, instead you crazily smiled at him and spill out tiny moans, looking at him.

"FUCK—I'M GONNA FUCKING CUM! GET OFF OF ME!" Logan roared.

"Cum in me, Daddy—Yeah!"

Logan couldn't hold himself any longer, his moral is not even working at the moment. All he thinks is only shooting his hot load out and he does, as he choked out a moan gripping your hips to stay in place while he shoot out his strings of cum inside you. His thighs stuttered a little while he still emptying his load; it was so much.

You giggled watching him trying to gain his breath while he looks at you dead in the eye.

"I better not see that attitude for the rest of the night." Logan warned while you just sit there, on top of him, looking at him without a care of his words.

"Thank you, Daddy."

[dazzlingjaeyun]

xᴍᴀꜱ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ – ʀɪᴋɪ ⊹˚꙳⁺⋆₊･*❅

bf!riki x gf!reader

୨୧ genre: fluff | words: 998 | cw: none ୨୧

₊☃️‧₊˚❄️˚₊‧🌨️˚ ⋅

a half-eaten cake sat on riki's desk, its frosting smudged where someone (you) had playfully smeared it on riki’s nose earlier, and the 'happy birthday' balloons you'd carefully taped on the wall now pooled on the floor.

the two of you had spent the day together, grabbing lunch at his favorite ramen shop and playing arcade games (where, of course, his ego refused to let you win and you would not hear the end of it, ever).

now, as the day came to an end, you were standing in front of his bed with an envelope in your hand.

"what's that?" riki asked in confusion as he looked up from his phone.

"open it and find out," you said with a smile, sitting down on the edge of his bed and handing him the envelope.

your heart beat just a little faster when he took the paper and carefully began to open it. he shot you one more glance before slowly pulling out the content, his eyes widening in shock when he processed what he held in his hands.

his eyes snapped back to you, a look of disbelief on his face, almost as if he didn't trust his own eyes.

"you haven't seen your family in months, so... surprise," you said hesitantly when he didn't say a word.

riki wordlessly dropped the envelope and pulled you against his chest, squeezing you so tightly he might as well have suffocated you. "how did you think of this?" he asked, his words muffled by your hair.

you gently pulled away, just enough so you could look at him. "i know you're trying to hide it and act all nonchalant, but sometimes it's obvious you're homesick, love."

you chuckled as riki winced in feigned disgust. "don't call me cute names. you'll make me blush and all that shit," he mumbled.

you just playfully stuck out your tongue before you got up from his bed and stepped on his desk chair to pull down the suitcase that he kept on top of his wardrobe.

"start packing, love," you said, making sure to put special emphasis on the nickname, "we're leaving tomorrow."

while riki started to throw almost his entire closet into the suitcase, you explained to him how you'd gotten in touch with his sister to plan the trip with her. you'd met her before, during the one time she'd come to visit riki abroad. back then, you hadn't been officially dating – you hadn't even really been friends yet. you'd just shared a few dance classes but you rarely spoke outside of them. when konon had come to visit, he'd been giving her a tour of the campus and the dance studio, barging into the practice room with the subtlety of a hurricane just as you were in the middle of rehearsing.

"i think i'm done," riki announced with satisfaction, having added practically half his room into the suitcase that dared to overflow.

the next day, when you arrived to japan, you could see the excitement on your boyfriend's face as soon as the plane landed. he was quick to show you the way to the baggage claim, and just a few minutes later, you were scanning the arrivals hall for his parents.

once riki caught sight of them, he gently took your hand in his and guided you toward where they were standing. you stepped back while he happily hugged his parents, wanting to give him enough time and space to greet them first.

you only saw him from the side but he smiled more than he had in a long time and that alone was enough to know you'd chosen the right birthday gift after all.

after riki introduced you to his parents and you exchanged warm greetings, you made your way to his family home. riki was holding your hand in the middle seat, mindlessly brushing his thumb against your knuckles as he looked outside the window and took in the snowy scenery.

you looked outside too, not through your window but through his so you could catch a glimpse of the sparkle in his eyes whenever you passed a place he probably had made memories in.

when you arrived to his place, you only brought the suitcases inside, before riki gently grabbed your arm and pulled you outside again.

"i wanted to show you so many places, we'll start right away," he announced with excitement, taking your small hand in his bigger one and tucking them both into the pocket of his warm jacket.

you were walking through his neighbourhood while riki told stories about almost every corner, and when he wasn't speaking, the soft crunch of snow underneath your feet filled the silence.

"wait, stay here," riki said suddenly, letting go of your hand and pulling out his phone from the pocket of his pants. he took a few steps back and shot a picture of you smiling into the camera.

"cute," he said with a grin. "now, look over that way," he instructed, motioning toward some distant trees as he adjusted his phone, pretending to find the right angle.

just as you posed, a cold lump of snow hit your shoulder, and you spun around to find riki grinning, the remnants of the snowball still in his hand.

you squinted your eyes. "you little shit," you gasped, quickly crouching down to form your own snowball and throw it at him.

later that day, when he'd shown you his room, you were sitting in his bed, your back resting against his chest. "you look different when you're at home," you said with a soft smile, and though riki couldn't see it, he knew you were smiling.

he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter and placed a quick kiss on the top of your head.

"i feel more like myself here," he replied after a while, his voice just a hint softer than usual, "that was the best surprise i could have asked for."

part four of my xmas special. tap here to get to the other members!

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

join my taglist here | masterlist

❥ perm. taglist: @sudi109 @woniesun @leov3rse @simpjay @jayparked

[demie90s]

Come To Me

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Nika Mühl X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ MASTERLIST

ALL PARTS

⭑ pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader (rich!fem!reader)

⭑ summary: When you find out Nika’s been silently going through something heavy, it hits hard. Your mad—not the yelling kind, but the quiet, cut-deep kind. You walk away to fix it, not fight it. And even with the space, you still plans dates, and get Nika things asking. Because the love doesn’t stop. It just hurts more when it’s her.

⭑ genre: Soft angst, emotional support, quiet luxury, love-through-pain

⭑ warnings: Mental health themes, emotionally charged silence, loving someone who hides their pain

⭑ word count: ~ 0.8k

Nobody really noticed at first.

Nika’s good at that—being a little off without making it obvious. She still showed up to practice. Still laughed at KK’s dumbass jokes. Still walked through the locker room like her playlist was louder than whatever was in her head.

But me? I noticed.

Little things. The way she didn’t finish her smoothie even though it was from that spot. The way she stopped taking naps in my bed. The silence in our shared group chats, her phone lighting up but her fingers never moving. She still posted. Still smiled in public. But in private? She didn’t say much. And when she did, it was short. Tight. Like it hurt to let words out.

I asked once—“You good?”

She said, “Yeah.”

I asked again, a few days later—“Nika, seriously. What’s up?”

She just kissed me and said, “I’m tired.”

And that should’ve been enough. But it wasn’t.

Not when I found out later—by accident—that she’d been dealing with something serious. Like serious serious. Family shit. Mental health shit. Isolation, panic, shame, all rolled into one invisible weight she’d been carrying without saying a word to anybody. Not to me. Not to Paige. Not even to herself out loud.

And when I heard it?

When I heard it from someone else?

My whole chest sank.

Not because she was struggling. I could handle that. I wanted to handle that. But because she didn’t let me. She didn’t even try.

So when she walked into the locker room that day, acting like nothing had happened, I didn’t yell. Didn’t slam anything. Didn’t even look at her. I just stood up, said, “I’m leaving,” and walked out.

Paige blinked. “Wait—what happened?”

KK whispered, “She mad?”

Azzi squinted. “Nah. She’s calm. That’s worse.”

And it was. Because when I’m mad on the court, I get loud. I push. I foul. I step over people and dare them to make it something. But this wasn’t that kind of mad. This was hurt. This was you really didn’t trust me to carry it with you kind of mad.

I didn’t talk to her for the rest of the night. Didn’t answer texts. Didn’t check her location. I just drove. Found a little spot near the lake, sat with my head back, and figured out how to fix it.

Because I love her. So much it makes me sick sometimes. So much it physically hurts to think of her suffering alone.

And when I finally walked back into the dorm, she was sitting on my bed, hoodie on, head low. Sad.

Still didn’t say much.

So I did what I do best.

I fixed it.

⸻

“Put your shoes on,” I told her quietly, grabbing my keys and a blanket from the hall closet.

She didn’t move at first.

“Nik,” I said softer. “Come on. I know you be down sometimes. Let’s go.”

She followed me without asking questions. No makeup. No filters. Just raw, soft-eyed sadness and the quiet trust that I’d do what she couldn’t.

We drove in silence.

When we got to the lake, I laid the blanket down and pulled out the snacks I’d packed. Stuff she likes. Not the loud comfort food—but the little things. Fruit slices. Croissants. Her favorite tea. That one weird yogurt drink she swears only exists in Europe but I found on Amazon.

She sat down next to me, knees pulled to her chest. Still quiet.

“I’m not mad at you,” I said eventually. “Not really.”

She looked at me sideways. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I nodded. “I’m just… hurt.”

“I didn’t want to dump it on you.”

I stared at the water. “I’m not everybody, Nika.”

She didn’t answer.

“I love you,” I said plainly. “So much that it drives me insane sometimes. And when you go through shit without me? It makes me feel like I failed you.”

That got her.

She leaned into me. No words. Just pressure. Just presence.

I let her breathe. Let her cry a little without saying the word “cry.” And when she was ready, we laid back and looked at the sky like it could hold us up.

⸻

The next few days, I still didn’t say much. But I showed up.

She’d be sitting on the couch, eyes low, scrolling through nothing, and I’d walk in with food. Didn’t ask what she wanted. I already knew.

“Here,” I’d say, setting it down. “Eat.”

“Thanks,” she’d murmur.

“Don’t thank me. Just eat.”

Another day, I texted her: Get dressed. Bring your hoodie. No questions.

She showed up and there was a picnic laid out in the courtyard. Not dramatic. Just cozy. Just hers.

Paige caught it all on live.

“This girl got her out here like it’s a damn romcom, happy for my twin though” she muttered, filming from behind a bush.

⸻

The comments blew up.

“IS THAT NIKA AND Y/N??”

“The way she just KNEW something was wrong…”

“Y/n’s love language is fixing everything silently and with snacks I fear.”

⸻

I never said “Don’t ever do that again.” I didn’t need to.

She knew.

But I still love her. Still spoil her. Still slide her gifts on off-days and sneak extra tea packets into her hoodie pocket. Because love doesn’t stop when it hurts.

If anything, it gets louder in silence.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 23

So ch 25 will be the Bruce thingy- have fun with this one 🥹

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 23 >>next

“That’s an insane thing to ask out of me.” You raised an eyebrow at the two men sitting before you. “Sounds like fun. I’ll do it.” Lex just raised an eyebrow as you shrugged. “Just like that? No ‘how dare you dicks do something so stupidly suicidal’, no ‘I should put you both in my pocket dimensions for eternity’ just- I’ll do it?” Slade huffed. “Have you never heard of don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“I don’t know how you were raised, Wilson, but she and I are street kids. Nothing comes for free.” Your laugh drew the men’s attention. “Cynical. But the truth. I need the distraction after what happened to mom… and I want a small favor in exchange. Have y’all ever been on the Justice League’s space station?” The men glanced at each other before leaning in closer to you, their interest piqued. “No.”

“You’re about to be.” You nod towards the wall behind Lex, the one made of just glass. Your unimpressed look stuck on the second Superman, flexing and making faces. Kon-El stopped only when he turned around and saw Luthor's ashamed look and the unmoved faces of you and the other man.

Lex sighed and pressed a button, a panel of glass going down to allow the young man inside. And the young adult was quick to introduce himself. “-between us, I’m the better Superman.” Kon puffed his chest, forgetting for a moment why he was so willing to be close to Lex. “I prefer Bizarro.” The reply earned a stammer from Kon while Slade hid the amused smile behind his glass. “I take it the JL has agreed?” The young man cleared his throat. “Uh- yes. Tomorrow night at 5, so that everyone has a clear schedule and will be there.”

“Good. Tell them I’ll bring company, and to hold their shit to themselves until after the meeting.” You get up as Kon starts talking again. “You know, Jon talked quite a bit about you, and mom would love to see you again, and I heard you like animals- My grandparents got these fluffy cows, they’re real cute-“ He stopped when a flash of a green light and the sound of a door opening appeared, his eyes barely catching Slade leave and not even noticing where the light came from.

“Wha- where’d she go?” Kon turns and asks Lex. “Just missed your opportunity, smooth operator.” Lex rolled his eyes. “Some word of advice-“ Kon snorted at that, lifting off the ground. “From you? Never.” And just like that, the young man was gone too, leaving his creator pouting.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Damian had barely walked inside the manor before his father and Tim, alongside Jason, accosted him. Granted, the teen wasn’t listening to his father; his glare was instead glued to Drake and Todd's snickering forms. Smirking as the others came to see what was happening, his eyes locked with Grayson’s.

“I didn’t come back empty-handed, father. I have information you wouldn’t be able to find on the internet.” Bruce’s jaw clenched at that, but he was interested. “And Talia?” Damian just raised an eyebrow. “She’s a grown woman, vaccinated, I’m sure she’s doing just fine wherever she is.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Are you fucking crazy?!” You yell while diving straight for Talia, who jumped off a skyscraper. The woman simply smiled as you wrapped your arms around her, slowly coming to a stop so you wouldn’t snap her neck. “Perhaps. But you caught me, and I have what I wanted. Your undivided attention.” Talia wraps her arm around your shoulders.

She doesn’t let you speak, smirking at your twitching eye. “I won’t let you get rid of me just because my son made a mistake, a grave one, sure, but a mistake. I grew attached to you and your family in the short time we have known each other, and I won’t let go so easily.”

She was as crazy as she was beautiful. “Lady-“ and she shushed you. “I won’t go anywhere until you accept the fact that you can’t get rid of me.” Maybe you should take Lex up on that family vacation, you definitely needed it. Your mom definitely did after that Levy fucker. You take a deep breath in, exhaling softly. “You’re lucky I have to be somewhere in a few hours and don’t have the time to argue.” You mumble and start flying towards her apartment, ignoring the way she smiled so smugly.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everyone in the meeting room of the JL's space station seemed to quiet down once Batman crashed into his chair, hands covering his face as the smug Red Hood smiled brighter than ever. It was a terrifying sight. “ ’Ello there, Batsy… You good?” John Constantine asked, the only one brave enough to ask.

The bat man dragged his hands down his face, letting them dangle over his knees. “Sorceress may be dating Deathstroke and Luthor at the same time.” The chaos his words brought only made Jason happier. “My condolences-“ Diana was quickly cut off by Richard Grayson, who finally processed what the older man said. “No- You’re lying, it's not a funny joke B. We've been through this, you're not quite funny-” Denial. His smile was bright, but his eyes were dead inside. “Our sister knows better than to associate with that little-“ Anger. “Does she? Unless Slade told her she wouldn’t, because we sure as hell didn’t tell her that. By the way, look at this one- they’re so cute together.”

Jason knew he was pushing it with the photo of you holding Lex on your shoulder and Slade under your arm, face unimpressed as the men seemed to be pouting while Mark was dealing with some monster behind your form. “No. No- it’s- she’s just doing a job- or it’s mind control-“ Bargaining. “Oh my god- we fucked her up mentally so bad she’s seeking the attention we didn’t give her in old men.” Dick cried. Depression. His gaze raised to the smug Jailbird. “You’re a liar- you liar-liar pants on fire!” Acceptance- oh… Never mind, we’re back to denial.

“He must be lying.” Damian’s voice was heard through the coms, the boy having been grounded until further notice. “She likes the drama and to annoy them, she would never think of such an atrocity… I refuse to believe she has such low standards.” Of course, Jason was lying. But he had accomplices that would make the family question reality.

Speaking of, a green portal opened a few feet away from the Justice League members. The first one to walk through was you. “A few important people to the mission are about to come through. I expect you all to meet them with no threats, just like they will.” You didn’t let them finish, starting to introduce. “This is the director of the Global Defense Agency, Cecil Stedman.”

“Allen of Unopa, a representative of the Coalition of Planets, and Thaedus, the founder of the Coalition of Planets.” Allen was quick to smile and greet everyone while you smile softly as Mark stepped through. “And, of course, my brother, Invincible, and my father, Omni-Man.” Some members tensed as Nolan stepped through the portal. “And Lex Luthor and Deathstroke? Was that it?” Slade nodded, taking your left while Lex stood at your right. Dick was ready to crash out, his fingers itching for a fight. “I understand why they are here.” Hawkman grunted, nodding to the other before turning his glare to Slade and Luthor. “But what relevance do they have in all of this?”

“That’s a piece of information to give the next time. We’re still working to see if the information given checks out.” Your response was as professional as it could be, not giving away anything before shrugging. “And maybe I need a piece of eye candy from time to time since I have to deal with you lot.” Jason could cry with happiness as the rest of the bats crashed into their chairs. It was evil what you two had come up with- well, what he came up with and what you, and the others played along with just because you were bored. Another man came through, followed by yet another man and woman. “And this is Harvey Dent.” Your hand moved to the two behind him. “Tucker Garnet and Jessica Lament, our legal team.”

“In exchange for your help with re-introducing Omni-Man to Earth, we’re willing to share what we know about the Viltrumites and how to stop them. Even offer some help dealing with the little traitor you have running around.” Cecil redirected the attention when he saw Red Robin raise his hand toward the assassin, ready to complain as well. “They’ve been dealt with. Intergalactic prison.” Hal Jordan shrugs. “Right…” Harvey mumbled before clearing his throat. “Here are the papers you need to sign before we talk.”

“What reassurance do we have that you do know how to deal with the Viltrumites? You have one on your side, how will that amount to anything when an army of thousands will come?” At the questions posed by Red Robin, Thaedus was quick to speak up. “He’s not the only Viltrumite that changed sides. And he isn’t the first.” He stepped forward. “I was the first one to rebel against the empire. I was the one who killed the first Viltrumite Emperor, Argall. I founded the Coalition of Planets specifically to fight against the empire.”

“And you’re wrong in your assumption. Their propaganda may have spread far and wide, but the plague wiped most of us out. There’s less than 50 remaining Viltrumites.” Nolan continued. His eyes slowly turned towards his kids as he rested his hand on your shoulder, a proud smile taking over him. “Maybe three less.” Bruce frowned at the insinuation and at the smug smirk that grew on your face. First Joker and now some Viltrumites… would you have been different if he was the father you deserved? He straightened at the thought. Of course, you would have been- this- you being so okay with murder is due to Nolan’s indoctrination, he was sure of it. Well… He was deluding himself to believe that.

“Oh- how nice, we have words-“ Cecil quickly interrupted Hawkman. “You have the only thing that will save your public image. Sign the damn papers so we all can get what we want. Us more allies against the genociders and you keeping the image of the good guys.”  Duke is the first one to get up and grab a paper, with Stephanie and Cassandra quickly following. In the end, everyone did.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It’s been hours of debriefing for both Nolan’s reintroduction and the information of Viltrumites, mainly correcting the deeply embedded propaganda they took as fact. You were tired. So tired. Mainly of how Dick looked at you like a hurt little puppy.

Granted, Lex saved you with a nudge, showing you the time. “Well, I’m sure you all can carry on without us. We have to be present for our reservations.” You smile as you get up from your seat. “A reservation is more important than-“ You quickly frowned as you glared at Superman. “If you dare stop me from spending time with my boos at The Ritz I’ll bite your head off.”

As you three left, Jason hid his laugh behind a cough. Now, while the bat crew cringed at the use of endearment, Nightwing was straight up losing it. The man gagged audibly, sliding down the chair to his knees before curling up on the floor, shaking. “Isn’t the Ritz closed at this hour?” Diana’s question made the man shudder at the thought, immediately getting back to his knees to grab at Batman. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all.” Richard hissed, shaking the man. Kon, decided to get up and move to the other side of the room, to stretch his legs. No other reason. “I don’t know man.” Jason started up, mixing the pot as he smiled under his mask. “It’s kind of cute she calls them her boos.” Dick gagged once more, crumbling to the ground with a whimper. “My birdie- my innocent baby sis-“

Batman could only watch as his oldest started crying- or maybe just hyperventilating, he wasn’t quite sure. “I second Richard.” The older man could only sigh as Damian’s voice cracked through the coms. He… He dreaded the thought that, perhaps, letting go of his no-killing rule would be beneficial. His eyes drifted to Nolan and Mark, who decided to pick up a conversation with Jason. Maybe…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“You lied to them so easily. You’re a terrible liar, usually.” Lex brought up as he changed from his costume to a more space-appropriate suit as Slade did the same. “I’m a terrible liar if I have to come up with something on barely a second, give me a minute or a whole day, and I’ll have a whole story made up.” You shrug.

“Have you ever lied to us like that?” Slade couldn’t help the curiosity that shone through. “What would I gain from that? Lex gives me money when I just straight up ask, and you bring me trinkets from your missions without me even having to mention it. There’s literally no use for me to lie.”

Lex came out with his space suit helmet in hand. “Did you have to call us your boos?” You just smirked. “It was the cringier option. I’m more of ‘my heart’ type of endearment.” Slade looked at you with a smirk on his smug mug. “Is that what you called Giganta on your very short-lived escapade?”

“How about we don’t talk about that?” Lex tutted at your failed diversion. “Aw, did she break your heart?” You gave the bald man a blank stare. “I will throw you into a black hole.” He just laughed.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince @swanluver @ohnoivefallen

[igotanidea]

New rules: Damian Wayne x reader

part 4 of "Family rules" series.

A/N: bit of a filler, cause it's been 3 months(!!!!), but promise next part will be more eventful :D

***

„What is this?!” her father yelled, almost throwing the Gotham newspaper in her face.

“I—”

“Let me tell you what this is! This is you kissing Damian Wayne! And your face is all over the newspapers’ front pages!”

“Stop screaming at me!” she spat back feeling her self-control slipping.

“You better tread carefully young lady. Last time I checked you were still living in my house.”

The nightmare began the second she got back from school, still reeling from everything that happened in the principal’s office. Y/N could barely step over the threshold when a tight grip on her shoulders yanked her back, pushing her into the chair in the living room, with a very angered Mr. Y/L/N hovering above her. Felt like a freaking interrogation because she dared to behave like a teenage girl falling in love for the first time in her life.

If her mother was still alive, she would understand. She would sit down with her, ask a lot of questions, let Y/N blush and be supportive as a mother could.

Instead the young girl had to deal with her father, who clearly forgot that part of the role, focusing only on acting as a CEO, whose daughter was fraternizing with the enemy.

And it made her feel guilty.

Guilty for her own feelings, as if falling in love was something shameful. As if he had to pick the right person to whom her heart should start beating. Or not. Not that she could have experienced that, yet¸ but judging by the screams and rage she could say that in the future her father might try to marry her off out of reason.  

“Dad, please listen, I –” her pleading tone was supposed to make the man realize that she wasn’t just a bargaining chip in his business’ development.

“I understand.” The response was cold, emotionless, almost ruthless, leaving no space for arguing.  

“No you don’t understand! You don’t understand! How could you possibly understand love when even mom was nothing more than a trophy wife for you-!“

Her outburst was immediately cut off by a slap and sharp stinging on the cheek followed by the reddened skin and pulsing blood.

“This is what your mother’s upbringing caused.” Her father hissed “ungrateful, stupid, snouted brat. But let me tell you something. This ends here. And if you want to keep living on my expense, you will do as I tell you!”

“I’m 17! I’m underage, you can’t just cast me out!”

“Unless you want to find out what I’m capable of, I advise you to listen to the plan you’re just a pawn in.”

***

“What is it, Damian?” Bruce asked his youngest son when he came back from school. If there was any anger or disappointment in him, he did a great job hiding it.

“It’s nothing.” Said youngest muttered bellicosely.

It obviously had to come to this stupid awkward conversation with his father but Damian was not going to admit anything easily. And the fact that the boy only just realized that he might be slightly in love with Y/N Y/L/N was causing him to act even more coldly and aloofly than usually.

“Son…”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“So you kissing that girl was just you having fun? Or maybe you were trying to humiliate her?”

“What? No!”

“Look, you are a boy. It's okay if you want to blow off steam. It’s understandable.” Bruce smirked, clearly setting a trap for Damian with the reverse psychology trick.

“You understand? Because you had so much blowing off steam when you were younger?" Obviously the boy raised by Thalia Al-Ghul and Ra’s Al-Ghul was smarter than to fall for something so childish. “Besides, it’s such a humiliating experience. I have no interest in primitive youthful pleasures and amorous activities, father.”

“You sure about it?”

“Positive.” Damian crossed arms over his chest, having his face expression under perfect control.

“Good. Get ready for patrol then. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Damian nodded and with stern look and pursed lips left the room, allowing Bruce to finally let out a sigh of worry. His son may have been a skilled vigilante trained in restraint of emotions, but he could not trick Batman himself. It was impossible to notice how Damian’s eyes were focused on that little Y/L/N during all of last night’s gala. Showing much more than just resentment. And then the dance, which Bruce didn’t even have to force him into. And the way his boy was holding that girl. It was almost obvious that Damian had in fact an interest in amorous activities.

And unlike Y/n’s father, Bruce was not mad about it. In fact, he was quite relieved. As long as possible the relationship would not detriment Damian’s Robin duties of course. But seriously, as a father of a 17 year old, Bruce knew that it was only a matter of time when dilemmas and problems related to love and adolescence would come forward.

And unlike Y/N;s father Bruce was going to watch it carefully, intervening when needed, giving a push here and there, but without obvious control.

***

She was crying a waterfall, holding onto the bruised cheek wondering how to best cover it up so no one at school would ask silly questions.

Locked in the room on the first floor, making the most stern resolution to avoid Damian Wayne for dear life. Even if that was the last thing she would do in her life, she wouldn’t get closer than three rows of desks in the classroom.

For what Y/N cared, Damian Wayne was now officially dead to her.

***

He was sitting on the branch of a giant tree next to her house, dressed in Robin costume, observing how the girl walked into her room with a hand on her cheek, though the distance didn’t allow him to uncover why. Was she sick? Would she be at school tomorrow? Maybe the press got to her and she hurt herself running away from the paparazzi?

“Damian.”

AH! He almost fell to the ground.

“Yes, father?”

“What are you doing?”

“Observing.”

“What?”

“The target.”

“Hm.”

“What now?”

“Unless the target changed age, gender and appearance—”

“Our criminal is currently running down 34th street.” Damian cut his father off abruptly and roughly “his tires are about to burst in about 100 meters due to the explosive I planted there. The explosion will give us enough momentum to jump into action and catch him with the stolen goods in his trunk. That is if we get into action in 3…2…1…” he swiftly shot into the air without paying attention to his companion and even less to his words.

As if Batman was trying to suggest Damian might have been watching her.

Huh! Ridiculous!

***

“Hey Y/n, what happened to your face?” The same girl that used to laugh her out about ending up on the pages kissing Damian, guffawed the next day seeing the poorly covered bruise on Y/N’s face.

“None of your fuckin business -“

“Oh, such bad words coming out of the little princess' mouth, isn’t it?”

“Get lost Lisa!” Y/N shut the locker and tried to walk past her bully.

“You will not ignore me!” Lisa hissed and yanked the other girl’s hair back.

“GIRL FIGHT!” someone yelled and in a blink of an eye the corridor was filled with students cheering on one or the other girl as they started to circle around each other waiting for the moment to strike. Before teachers arrived Y/N was on the floor, blocking the hits that Lisa, who was sitting atop her kept on throwing.

“GET OFF ME!”

“YOU WILL RESPECT MY POSITION IN THIS SCHOOL!”

“YOU’RE A BULLY!”

“I’M A QUEEN!”

“OF MENTAL SICKNESS!"

“HE’S MINE!”

“Wait… what?” Y/N stuttered and the moment of confusion ended up in the perfectly aimed nose punch and a quite decent bleeding. Followed by Lisa’s vindictive smile.

“Now your nose matches your cheek.”

“ny-noze….”  tears pricked from Y/N’s eyes from the combined pain and shock. It was not just about the fight, but everything that happened in the last couple days. Her father’s abuse because of falling in love and now Lisa’s torment because of pretty much the same followed by a girl’s jealousy.

“What is happening here?” Fuck, why were the teachers always appearing�� after the drama happened.

“She attacked me!” Lisa exclaimed, putting on an innocent face. “So aggressive, I suppose it’s because she was raised only by one parent.”

For a second the principal and the tutor were looking between untouched Lisa and beaten up, bleeding Y/N. It was clear who was the casualty, nonetheless it was Lisa’s family who’s been giving generous donations to school.

“Get up from the floor Y/N.” she was finally instructed and on shaky legs and with dizziness she clumsily stood up still clutching her nose. “This is your second stunt this week. You’re coming to my office and this time, I won’t go lightly on you.”

“It was not her fault.” Someone from the crowd of the students dared to speak up and the people parted, revealing the fuming….

Damian Wayne.

“it was Lisa—”

“Oh, I don’t feel well!” Lisa exclaimed accidentally falling right into Damian’s arms “I feel like I’m going to faint—”

“Mr. Wayne, take Mrs Thomas to the nurse’s office so she can be tended to.”

“What-?” Damian swiftly avoided Lisa’s fall and the girl almost ended up on the floor. “No.”

“N-no?”

“No. Y/N was the one who was attacked. And for crying out loud, she’s the one bleeding and needing medical attention. So no, I’m not taking her—” he threw a glance at Lisa “anywhere when there’s someone else in need.”

“U-uh…” the principal still had in mind the humiliation he was subjected to last time when he had Damian and Y/N talk to him. “Fine! Fine, you take her to the nurse, though it’s completely unnecessary and –” half a sentence and two of them were already halfway away “Fuck. I mean, you all go back to your classes! There’s nothing to see here! Now go, before I put you all in detention!”

***

So her resolve to avoid Damian was broken on the first day. 

And it was about to get even harder from now on. 

_________________________________________

part 5: Cracking

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali

[ovaryacted]

Nic hi howdy im so sorry for just jumping into your inbox but okay… your post abour husband Dr Abbott made me thinking of how he wrote that sweet note for his patient’s family & how sincere and heartfelt he is - he probably is a husband that openly leaves you sweet simple messages on sticky notes or playful reminders of dates on your calender

OMG NEVER BE SORRY FOR JUMPING INTO MY INBOX PLEASEEE! That's why it's here, and I LOVE how you came into my inbox talking about husband! Jack Abbot cause ughhh, I just know he would be a good partner genuinely. Forgive me if I yap for a little bit.

The thought of him writing notes here and there is something that I consider canon in my mind (duh), not just because it's a cute little thought but cause it's a fundamental aspect to Jack's character. He gives me the sort of vibe that he's a guy with heavy emotions, or he feels deeply even if at times he may not always say certain things when it pertains to him being vulnerable. Yes he's emotionally repressed to a degree, but the combination of him going to therapy and having this deep respect for other people in general are all parts of him that translate across the screen in such an intimate way.

I think he cares about people, he cares about humans. And when he wrote that letter for the veteran that passes in the first episode after we're introduced to him, it gives me the impression that Jack probably used to do that too when he was still in the military. He'd pass on notes to the family members of his closest comrades if they don't make it, he's the one that gives family members condolences because he knows what it's like to be out there in no man's land, not knowing if you'll make it back in one piece or alive at all. He does that as a way to pay respect to people, and to acknowledge their existence in a reality where life seems so fleeting, and that's true for both out in the field and now in the ER.

I also think in general, Jack journals, probably keeps two separate kinds of journals. He has several medical journals he writes in and reads spanning over the years of his medical expertise and knowledge, and you read through them on occassion as his wife to jog your own memory and learn certain things. But there are several other journals that are strictly for him, where he's able to talk about his biggest fears, the nightmares that plague him, the worst things that play on loop in his mind have a safe space on the page and you wouldn't dare to snoop through that. He also doesn't let you, not because he doesn't trust you, but because he wouldn't want to traumatize you with his own thoughts, and you grant him that privacy no questions asked. As sarcastic as Jack may seem, he's a sentimental guy who has big feelings, and has a thing for giving the people close to him words of reassurance, praise, or acknowledgement. He knows what to say, how to grab your attention, and carries himself well to drive the point home. That's just who he is.

So with all of this, yes he does leave you little notes here and there at random for you to find. Some will be in the mirror for you to find first thing you wake up when he's already at the Pitt, a cheesy one-liner he knows will make you laugh under your breath and roll your eyes. Others will be scattered in different places: one on your thermos reminding you to grab coffee, the intense blend he brewed just for you. He'll put one in your car somewhere, another in your damn locker (yes he knows the code), one on the fridge, a remaining one in your snack pack of sorts, where he prepped several calorie & protein dense bars and the like to keep you going throughout the day.

You keep all of them, each little note varying from calling you pretty, to asking you out on a date, reminders for appointments or anything important, or letting you know what he's making for dinner. He'll even give you a corny joke or two, and at least once a week, you'll get a sticky note with a medical question that he expects answered by the time your paths collide at work, something to keep your mind active and going, and he'll reward you with a kiss after you get it right.

Though, despite collecting all of these notes over time, probably on your second jar now with no sign of stopping anytime soon; nothing is better than hearing him tell you these things directly in that signature rasp of his that sends your heart swooning. Jack Abbot wouldn't necessarily consider himself a sap, but he can be a softy when warranted, just to you though.

[s0urw00lf]

Bound

“Lion” and the wolf

Jon snow x reader

Summary: you meet Jon snow and immediately take a liking to him

A/N: may be a series may not be i don’t know yet. I hope it is because I’m hyperfixated on game of thrones right now and there’s only 10 episodes per season. Also is it just me who finds season 1 Jon just adorable?

Divider from @thecutestgrotto

When your father informed you that the king, the queen, and their close relatives including you were to accompany him to winterfell to name lord Stark as his new hand after Jon Arryns passing your first initial reaction was shock, they’d never really considered you a part of their family. Cersei was all about blood relation unless married into the family and you were neither. Therefore casting you to the furthest end of the Lannister/Baratheon family tree. The only ones that really accepted you was your father, Jamie and tommen. Joffrey was way too cruel for his own good, there was no doubt in your mind that it is going to be the reason he ends up dead.

”Must I go father, you and I both know me and Cersei around one another for any extended amount of time is not good for anyone within mere miles of us.” You asked, looking at him through the mirror in your room as your handmaiden braided your hair.

”Yes you must, the king has ordered it” he replied in his usual nonchalant tone. You rolled your eyes “when are we to set off?” You asked.

“By sunrise” he replied “I’ll leave you to sleep you’re going to need it”

your father exited your chambers and soon your handmaiden helped you get settled into your nightwear.

Sleep had not come easy to you. The thought of being in a compressed space with Cersei and Joffrey you’d go as far as to say it gave you nightmares. You are a well behaved lady, you know when and when not to speak and how to butter anyone up. But when it came to the queen and her eldest son you always managed to be sent off with the threat of your head on a spike.

Most of the ride to winterfell was spent bickering with Joeffry, somehow the young prince hadn’t learned how to respect anyone outside of himself, it got so bad that you’d ended up calling him an arrogant bastard which resulted in a slap from Cersei and you riding in the back with your uncle Jamie. Only when you were outside of the walls built around winterfell did you place yourself inside the carriage so you could present yourself as the “perfect family”.

You were introduced to the Stark family after your cousins, you’d heard stories of the bastard boy of Eddard Stark who looked more like a Stark than the eldest Stark boy. He was attractive, Robb. Any woman with eyes could see that, his striking blue eyes stood out against his dark curly hair and pale face. But as you searched more carefully you couldn’t find the other eldest boy. Next to Robb stood Lady Sansa who you knew was the eldest girl but there was one missing between them.

You tapped your uncles shoulder discreetly, he hummed without taking his eyes from in front of him. “There’s a boy missing, the second eldest. Why is he not in lineup with his family?” You questioned silently, watching the king and his old friend reunite, knowing their loud voices would drown out you and your fathers whispers. “Lady Catelyn is not fond of the bastard boy, he's seen as a burden to her. Look beyond the lineup” he answered just as quietly. You frowned at that, you knew what it was like not to be wanted by your family. Blood or not, but your father always made sure you were known as his daughter proudly. He wouldn’t ever dare to hide you no matter how high or low born your guests were. How can you hate a child before he even does anything to deserve your hate?

You took your uncles advice looking beyond the line up, and that’s when you saw him, what they say about him is right, he does look more of a Stark than Robb. He was handsome both brothers were but Jon carried himself differently. Like he was waiting to be seen, accepted. His dark eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat, he looked to be observing you much like you were doing him. Your long held eye contact must’ve been caught by your uncle who light nudged you. “Careful little lioness” he warned. With that you broke your eye contact with him to look at your uncle. You weren’t sure what he meant but you knew it’d resurface later on.

Cersei greeted the lord and lady after the king, though it wasn’t as warm as his, Cersei had a way of making every moment more tense than it had to be. “Where’s the imp?” The youngest Stark girl said catching you and Cersei’s attention, she turned around and walked toward you and your uncle “where is our brother, go find the little monster” she said to your uncle. You suppressed an eye roll, though your father was your father he still felt to revel in his younger years, though you weren’t sure how he was able to slip passed everyone and escape to whatever it was he was doing.

Later that evening at the feast you were sat alone, much like always unless your father was near. You made effort to search for Jon, and was quickly dissatisfied when he was nowhere in your sights. A loud shriek broke you from your thoughts “Arya! It’s not funny she always does this” you looked over and almost snorted when you saw lady Sansa with food on her face. Your best guess was Arya decided to use her face as target practice.

You weren’t blind to the looks she and your cousin had been sending each other and you guessed the little Stark was feeling mischievous. You caught sight of the oldest Stark boy cutting his laugh short due to the look his mother gave him, he got up walking over to Arya picking her up from her seat and muttering “time for bed” he met eyes with you and sent you a friendly smile, you returned his smile with nod in acknowledgement.

Farther into the night you found yourself wandering around the castle after dinner and ended up on the training grounds. A low grunt caught your attention, you were sure everyone was readying themselves for dinner who would be at the training grounds this late. It was a boy. “So its you” you spoke, catching his attention, he paused his actions turning towards you with a confused expression before he straightened himself up, “My lady are you lost, i can esc-“ you shook your head “i am not lost lord snow-“ ”excuse me My lady, i am not a lord” he put his head down.

You tilted your head at him “you are more of a lord than i am a lady” you told him truthfully. He stared at you in silence, you looked around not noting anyone else “you are alone?” You questioned. He nodded “yes My lady.” He answered. “Would you mind accompanying me, My Lord?” You tilted your head at him giving him the slightest doe eyes. He hadn’t given you a reaction you expected but you did see the blush littering his cheeks. “Of course My lady, where are you off to?”

”I'm just out for a night stroll, it's good I found you, from what I’ve heard you're handy with a sword so I needn’t be on high guard anymore” you told him as you resumed walking. He followed right next to you “do you not have a guard” he questioned looking around to see if there were any men far behind “much to the dismay of my father, no. I can take care of myself but I don't always like to.” You said moving your cloak to the side to show the sword you have stashed.

He looked intrigued by it. “It was my grandfathers i think, my father gave it to me. He said it was the last he could find of my real family.” You frowned. “You're from a high born family, that sword is made of valyrian steel” he said pointing to your sword that was back safely hidden behind your coat. “I am not sure, father won't tell me where he found it, he says he’ll tell me when i'm ready. Anyway enough of me, what about you” you asked looking up at him. “What of me?” He asked. “Do you know your mother?”.

He shook his head “even if i did im not so sure it’d change anything” he said frowning, you hated the crease between his brows. His face showed years of neglect and hatred he endeared and you couldn’t help but to begin to hate it for him. Suddenly you felt no need to continue talking of family, you noticed he didn’t have his furs from earlier that day on anymore. “Are you cold My Lord?” You asked gently. It was as if he had just realized he didn’t have his furs as he looked down at his attire. “We can go to my chambers and warm you, its not very far from here.” You told him.

Jon blushed at the thought “no i shouldn’t it wouldn’t be appropriate, but if you would like me to escort you-” you giggled cutting his sentence short “very noble Lord snow, yes please escort me to my chambers” you smiled, Jon nodded placing a hand on your lower back leading you further into the castle. The short walk was filled with quiet and easy conversation.

You were almost disappointed when you reached your chambers and your conversation was cut short. “Would you like to come in?” You asked, Jon paused wanting to say yes but not wanting to upset lady Caitlyn if she ever found out. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing i sent you off while your nearly freezing” you tried to persuade him. He shook his head “it would not be appropriate“ “Jon please” you begged “just a few minutes”.

Jon sighed praying to the gods hoping no one saw what he was about to do. He entered your chambers and let out a breath at the warmth. The atmosphere in the room was quiet and gentle. You removed your furs having no further need for them at the moment and placed yourself on your bed. “May i ask a question?” You asked him softly. He broke his stare from the fire and turned to you with a gentle ‘hmm’ “If you feel you do not belong here, then where do you belong?”

Jon felt weird, having never been asked that question before he felt taken aback. He lulled over his answer for a few seconds “at the wall, with my uncle and others like me” he looked down to his clasped hands, seemingly deep in thought. Your heart broke for the boy, he truly felt in some way he wasn’t welcome in his own home. “Are you ready to make that sacrifice? To never have a wife, a family. To pledge your life?” You asked.

He frowned further “No woman will wed to a bastard. My life will have more meaning there than here” He said. You tilted your head “i don't think that to be true, i think some time sooner or later your family will need you here, and if any woman is daft enough not to accept a marriage proposal from you then she didn't deserve you in the first place.”

After that Jon excused himself from your chambers, your words weighing heavy on his shoulders. But his mind was already set, he was joining the night's watch, however that didn’t stop him from repeating your words in his head.

The next morning was when you were finally able to find your father, extremely hungover. “I Missed you yesterday” you said as you came to a halt by his side. “You missed aunt Cersei's fake smiles, uncle Jamie sizing up with lord stark and even worse. Joffrey making eyes with the stark girl.” You rolled your eyes at the last bit. Your father cleared his throat “did i also miss your night stroll with the bastard boy?” He asked.

You froze momentarily, you knew your father wasn’t in a hurry to wed you off, he’d much rather you find love than be in a loveless situation with a man two times your age. But that never stopped him from teasing you about your interests even if its very rare that you have them. “He was just accompanying me to my chambers, father” you spoke looking in every direction but his. He was the only person in the world who could read you like a book. “Ah yes, was he also warming your bed for you?” He turned toward you with a small smile. “You know i would never, i just met the boy”

“love is a fast little creature daughter” he said before walking away.