#will solace marry me challenge

[delulustateofmind]

Marriage-Life (One-shot)

A/n: Thank you all for all the love on the Between Worlds series! I promise an update next week. This is just something I thought about while on my walk with my dog :) SUPER FLUFFY!

**Also, it is unedited so fair warning, like a rough draft!**

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Collections of domestic life with Azriel, married/mated for fifty years. 

Warnings: Fluff & crack at times, drinking, some intimate moments. Pet names (Sweetness, My Love, Baby)

Azriel the spymaster was your mate, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Balancing life with a spymaster was no easy feat. Azriel’s frequent absence on risky missions tested the boundaries of your marriage at times. Yet, amidst the challenges, you found solace in the ways he made up for his prolonged departures.

Like sleepless nights in bed after a long mission…

As you settled in settled into bed, with Azriel lying on your chest, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes were closing. A question tugged at your lips. “Would you…’ you began, hesitating for a moment. ‘Yes, I would love you if you were a worm,’ Azriel hummed, his warm breath grazing your skin.

“Love me if I was a snail” You finished, feeling Azriel’s smirk form against your chest. He gave a soft nip on your breast. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to look up at you. The hazel eyes looked up at you with amusement you could see his smirk turn smug. 

“Oh sweetness, that changes things” he drawled as he sat up a little, pushing himself up to see your face. You bit your lip trying not to giggle as he continued. 

“I mean, are you a normal snail? Like could I tell you apart from all of the other little snails?” Azriel began, his deep voice filled with a teasing tone. His hand roaming your bonds, fingers caressing your curves. 

You stifle a laugh as his fingers find ticklish spots, “I would be a cute snail, one that you could distinguish from the others”

“A very cute snail…but the fact remains. You would still be a snail” Azriel hummed as he ran his fingers across your curves again. His gaze goes down to your body and back to your lips and then your eyes with a playful grin. A grin that only you ever saw. “I would feel so guilty if I stepped on you by mistake. Can’t have that, can we?” 

Giving him a playful pout, you look at him innocently. “Are you saying…that you wouldn’t love me if I was a snail?” you whisper to him in a soft gaze, as you notice his movements. Azriel grinned again, pushing himself onto his elbows against you as he moved closer to you. His wings continued to drape across the both of you. 

“What I’m saying is I would always have to worry about stepping on you if you were a snail. Which would make being married to you quite the headache.” His hand once rested on the curve of your waist, moved its way to your collarbone then your jawline, and finally to your chin. Tilting your head as he brings himself closer to whisper on your lips. “How about you stay fae my love, maybe in another universe we could be snails together. But this one, I would love to be fae with you.” A gentle kiss was planted on your lips, which led to you both having a very sleepless night. 

****

Azriel never really had much of a sweet tooth, in fact, he typically stayed away from sweets until he met you. When you both got married, you would try out a new cafe once a month, sometimes going to the same one if their seasonal menu changed. 

“Let’s get ice cream today, it’s starting to get so warm out.” You whined as you slipped on a sundress. Azriel in the middle of brushing his teeth as he shrugged and gave the confirming nod. 

One of the best things about Azriel was that he always tried to match your outfits. If you wore a blue ribbon in your hair, he would wear a blue button-up shirt. If you wore a floral sundress, he would find a shirt that matched one of the colors. Today wearing a blue floral sundress, he opted for a light blue button-down and khaki slacks. One of which, he never owned any colorful clothing or anything other than his leathers and a few formal outfits until you two met.

Once you were both ready, Azriel took you on a flight down to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. A district is known for its food. Once landed, you both walked hand in hand. Shadows trailing the both of you as you walked. Azriel’s huge hand compared to yours as he guided you to a cafe. 

“Feyre mentioned this place the other day” he began as he guided you through the busy streets. His wings were tightly tucked in. “I guess they make the ice cream look cute, like little bears and pigs” he gave you a warm smile as you trailed next to him, giving him a confirming squeeze with your hand. 

The streets were packed today, the market was selling spices, the smell of delicious food filled the air, and merchants trying to gather attention as people walked past. It wasn't until after a few blocks away, that you noticed a cute pastel pink building that had “Ice Cream” written in a beautiful cursive font on the window. You moved your hand from his, moving it towards his bicep as you both walked to the front doors. When you grasped his muscle, he flexed. The pastel-pink building exuded a quaint charm, its exterior adorned with delicate floral motifs that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Inside, the decor was equally inviting, with plush cushions and paintings on flowers on the walls. Along with cute stuffed animals on shelves around the parlor. A beautiful fae girl led you both to a table and placed a menu in front of you both. Azreil looked at you. “Order anything you want. I will just share with you”

The menu was filled with a tempting array of ice cream parfaits, each more enticing than the last. Ranging from little animal-themed ones to flower ones  You ended up ordering the panda, and right when you ordered you noticed there was a drink menu that showed an adorable foam cat latte. You order it as well obviously. Azriel smirks as he looks at you with a smile. People in the ice cream parlor glanced over. A smile from the threatening looks of the spymaster was quite rare. 

You both talked about what other errands you both needed to run, a market trip was due. Luckily Azriel won’t have a mission for a while but will be training with the Valkyrie and having to go to Hewn City soon. As you both talked, you very impatiently waited for the dessert, Azriel held your hand across the table. He was rubbing his finger across the top of your hand. 

“I appreciate you” He whispered so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You give him a warm smile “I appreciate you too and everything you do.”

After what seemed like forever! 

The ice cream and latte finally arrived, you looked at the ice cream with a pout and looked at him. 

“I don’t think I can eat it, it’s too cute” you pout as you look down at the panda ice cream staring up at you. Azriel had already taken the latte and was about to sip it. As he raised a brow.

“Shall I eat it for you” he teased, flashing a playful grin as he took a sip of the cute cat latte. Something about this intimidating creature sipping a cute cat latte caused your heart to flutter. A blush made its way across your face, even after fifty years of marriage, he still makes you have butterflies in your tummy. You reluctantly used your tiny spoon that was given to you, to poke the face of the little panda ice cream ball on top. Tasting the ice cream, it was a cookies and cream flavor. So cute and so delicious. Azriel teased you by claiming you’re murdering him. You would flash him a playful glare which would cause him to laugh. It was moments like these, that you enjoyed being married to him. 

*** 

Drunken nights, meant drunken mates. 

Azriel arrived at Rita’s to find his mate giggling drunk next to Feyre who was being led away by Rhysand. Azriel’s mate however was still sipping on her drink as he walked over. 

“Sorry, I have a mate,” you slurred, raising a hand to Azriel’s face as he approached.

“Oh, do you? Is he handsome?” He teased in a low voice, taking a seat next to you. His wing brushing against your shoulder. 

“The most handsome man in the whole world, let me tell you if he caught you right now, you would be catching his hands” You drawled with a drunken grin as you sipped the rest of your cocktail. 

Azriel covered his mouth covering a laugh, “Is that so? So he’s like super powerful.” He teased, his tone holding amusement. One of his shadows trailing around your arm. 

You notice it and giggle, “Yeah, my mate has these little shadow things too” You point at the shadow and show it to him. He laughs a bit harder and leans closer to you. You almost immediately recognize him. 

“Hello! My mate!” You giggle as you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist. “When did you get here, there was such a strange man here” you giggle as he holds you close, placing his chin on top of your head. 

“Just now, how about we head home? Hm?” He hums as he plays with a strand of your hair, leaning back a little to slide a hand under your chin to tilt your face to his to see your drunken smile with a red flush on your cheeks. 

“Can we walk a little?” You smile up at him as you slur a little.

“Can you even walk?” He teases in a low tone, “If you can then sure” 

He pays the tab and walks with you out. A hand firmly on your waist to stop you from stumbling when you both walk the streets of Velaris. If anyone even looks at you stumble they’re met with the glare of the spymaster. You notice a pigeon leaving his arms and make your toward it. 

Tears stream down your face. 

Oh fuc- Azriel almost thought you were about to throw up but here you are giving the pigeons coins while crying. 

“Baby please, he’s homeless” You give Azriel a longing look as big alligator tears stream down your face. 

“The pigeon?” Azreil covers his mouth from laughing, there’s no way his mate is crying about a bird on the street. This is one of her more normal moments. 

“Yes, and he’s so poor. I mean he had no pockets!” you slurred as your voice cracked feeling so bad for the poor pigeon.

“I’m sure he’s fine love, please leave the pigeon alone,” he says quietly as he pulls you up. Perhaps, winnowing home would be for the best. 

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acotar azriel #shadowsinger #pls I need this man

[lokischocolatefountain]

Married Javier Peña Masterlist

Series of drabbles and one-shots where I imagine local slut Javi P being married.

(Pls help I accidentally started naming chapters with only words that begin with S and now I’m struggling to stick to the theme)

Fuckbuddy Javi

Setting Boundaries

Summary: Javi realizes he can't have his cake and eat it too Words: 0.8k

Comparison

Summary: Other guys don't compare to Javi Words: 0.5k

Jealous Javi

Summary: It was just sex between them. So why the hell was he feeling jealous? (Jealous Javi headcannon) Words: 1.6k

The Gun in The Back of His Jeans | Part 1

Summary: He was handsome, sweet, had kind eyes. He frequented the same restaurant she did and bought her a snack on the regular. Sweet, right? But he had a gun tucked in the back of his jeans and that could only mean danger. But soon, it begins meaning a lot more than that to her. Words: 4.3k

The Gun in The Back of His Jeans | Part 2

Solace 💜

Engaged Javi

Sundress

Summary: Javi's fiancé is in a pretty sundress, charming everyone in his hometown of Laredo, Texas. How could he not be driven mad? Words: 2.2k

Second Thoughts

Summary: Weeks before their wedding, one of them might have second thoughts. Words: 4.2k

Married Javi

Chucho’s Boy

Summary: Chucho Peña’s boy finds love and nobody could be happier about it but him. Words: 2.1k

Sickness and Health

Summary: Who knew big bad DEA Agent Javier Peña turned into a little baby when he was sick... Words: 2k

Say No to Me

Summary: It hadn’t been a good day at work for Javier Peña— what was new? She knew she could make him bury his frustrations in her, but it was taking a much more convincing than he usually needed. It didn’t matter. She liked a challenge. Words: 5.7k

Salvation

Summary: Shaken to his core by witnessing Colonel Carillo shoot a kid, Javier comes home guilty and questioning the role he plays in the war against drugs. Words: 5.8k words

Switch it Up

Summary: Javier Peña and his wife switch roles for his birthday Words: 3.8k

Separation

Summary: The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was almost three weeks ago in Steve Murphy’s apartment. He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect. Words: 8.4k

Severance

Summary: It was never meant to last. Whether they knew it or not, this was the beginning of the end. Words: 1k

Shit Habit

Summary: Javier is trying to cut out his bad habits, but he needs to cut himself some slack. Words: 1k

Sunglasses

Summary: Of all the things Javi has seen through his sunglasses, the sunglasses’ favorite sight is his relationship with his wife. Words: 1.6k

————————

Reader’s camera roll as imagined by @alsoantisocialhomosapien

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fluff #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier peña angst #javier peña x y/n #javier peña fic #javier peña x ofc #javier peña x you #javier pena narcos #narcos javier #narcos smut #narcos fic #married javier peña #domestic javier peña #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction

[lovelyiida]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬.

KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER

❥SYNOPSIS: as the years went by, bakugo realized that he was the last to get married. the days grew cold and the nights turned lonely. bakugo want's to marry, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. at least he has his trustee secretary!

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ WARNINGS: implied fem reader, aged-up!, Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, sexual themes, suggestive wording, and content

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 8.3K

CHAPTER 3: STAGES—CHOICES? CHOICES!

"you seem more tolerable than usual"

"Ah, fuck, a week off is what I really need, dude," Dynamight grumbles, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and longing.

"Yeah, well, keep working that ass, and maybe the officials will say something," Kirishima retorts with a half-hearted chuckle. They both share a sense of weariness, the weight of their responsibilities bearing down on them.

It's just another normal day for the two pro-heroes, Dynamight and Red Riot, as they tirelessly patrol the streets of Japan. The rhythm of their duties has become ingrained in them, but fatigue has taken its toll, leaving them aimlessly wandering through the bustling city.

As they stroll side by side, a comfortable silence settles between them. The sounds of the city envelop them, a constant hum that serves as a backdrop to their thoughts. It's in these moments of respite that casual conversations often emerge.

"So…" Kirishima begins, his voice trailing off, a spark of curiosity evident in his tone. "How's Ms. L/n?"

Dynamight's exhaustion momentarily lifts, replaced by a glimmer of interest. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he thinks about her. "She's doing great," he replies, a hint of humor coloring his words. "Busy with her own work, but she's been killing it."

Kirishima nods, his own grin mirroring Dynamight's. "That's awesome, man. She's got the drive and the skills. No doubt she's making a name for herself out there if you refer her to other heroes."

A flicker of pride shines in Dynamight's eyes as he reflects on her accomplishments. "Yeah, she's got that fire in her. Reminds me of when I first started out, you know? Determined, focused. It's inspiring."

Red Riot claps Dynamight on the back, a friendly gesture of camaraderie. "Not giving her hell are ya?" He asks, but Dynamight's shit-eating grin doesn't fault. "Aw c'mon dude! You promised you wouldn't give her a hard time!" he groans punching him in the shoulder.

"Hey, if she can handle a battle why not give her a war?" The hero smiles. "Bakugo, we've lost over five secretaries because you wanna be an ass, just keep this one goddamn it." The redhead spits before quickening his pace and walking before him.

The blonde smacks his lips against his teeth, quickly speeding up the pace before landing a kick against his back. A moment of shared understanding passes between them, a bond forged through the trials and tribulations of their profession. They both know the unique challenges that come with being heroes, the sacrifices, and the rewards that accompany the path they've chosen.

As they continue their patrol, their steps a little lighter, and their weariness was momentarily forgotten, the friendship between Dynamight and Red Riot remains steadfast. They find solace in each other's company, knowing that they can rely on one another in the face of adversity.

With their conversation about you fading into the background, they return to their duties, their shared goal of protecting the city reigniting their resolve. Together, they navigate the streets, their footsteps echoing with determination, ready to face whatever challenges come their way. As they finish their patrol, the two pro-heroes make their way back to their agency, ascending to the 21st floor.

Stepping out of the elevator, they are met with a warm reception from their dedicated team of workers. Kirishima responds with respectful bows and words of encouragement, his friendly demeanor shining through. On the other hand, Dynamight chooses to distance himself, maintaining a stoic and solitary presence. Ignoring the well-wishes of his colleagues, he keeps his focus solely on moving forward.

"Dynamight!"

Hearing his name called out, Bakugo looks ahead to see you rushing towards him, a sense of urgency in your demeanor. Letting out a sigh, he halts in his tracks, waiting for you to catch up. As you slow your pace, he gazes down at your tired figure, a flicker of concern briefly crossing his face.

"Um, I have some papers for you to read. If you can go to your office and take a look at them, that would be great," you ask politely, holding out the documents for him to take.

"That's it?" the hero responds blankly, his tone betraying a hint of annoyance. You glance around awkwardly, feeling a bit out of place under his intense gaze. With a slight nod, you confirm that it's indeed all you need from him. Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly nods and makes his way towards his office, his steps carrying a sense of exhaustion.

Entering his office, Bakugo crashes into his seat with a loud huff, his frustration evident. "Somehow everything aches, yet I'm so fuckin' active," he mutters to himself, his words laced with a mix of irritation and fatigue.

Leaning back in his chair, he takes a moment to collect himself, allowing the weariness of the day to settle. His mind drifts to the weight of his responsibilities, the constant demand to be at his best, both physically and mentally. It's a relentless pursuit, one that often leaves him feeling drained and stretched thin.

With a tired sigh, Bakugo reaches for the papers you handed him. As he begins to review the contents, his sharp focus kicks in, his determination to excel driving him forward. Despite the fatigue and the occasional frustration, he knows that every task, every piece of information, is crucial in his ongoing mission to protect and serve.

Especially the small piece of paper that stood out among the rest, Dynamight holds it in the air, his eyes fixated on the intricately decorated surface. As he averts his gaze from the paper, he locks eyes with you, sitting in a corner chair, typing away on your computer.

"Hey," Dynamight calls out, his voice beckoning your attention. Your trained eyes snap up, meeting his intense gaze. "Yes, Dynamight?" you respond, a hint of confusion lacing your words. A moment of silence hangs in the air as you await his next words, uncertain of why he called for you.

Dynamight waves the paper in his hand toward you, prompting you to stand from your chair and approach him. Taking the paper from his hand, you observe his expectant expression. "Read it," he says flatly, his voice devoid of any enthusiasm. Your eyes travel across the paper, and you begin to read aloud.

"You're invited to the celebration of Shoto Todoroki and Momo Yaoyorozu's marriage—"

"Of fucking course," Dynamight interjects, his tone dripping with toxicity and perhaps a hint of jealousy. You gaze at him with an unreadable expression, unsure whether to continue or not.

"The ceremony is in the fall, if you want to know," you mumble softly, the words barely escaping your lips. "I don't give a damn if it was fucking tomorrow, damn it… throw it away," he says dismissively, waving you away. However, you choose to stay in place, compelled to speak your mind. "I know it's not my place to speak, but I thought I would show this to you because I heard that these were your friends," you say, your voice laced with genuine concern.

Your boss looks at you with a deadpan expression, his gaze piercing through you. "Who the hell told you that?" he asks, his voice laced with curiosity. You bite your lip nervously, briefly glancing at the invitation before covering your mouth with it. "Um, Red Riot, sir," you admit, eyes widening realizing the potential consequences of the word you said.

"Sir? What am I, 70?" Dynamight raises his voice, his irritation palpable. You quickly shake your head, realizing your choice of words was inappropriate. Before the hero can further express his discontent toward you or the situation, he lets out a resigned sigh. "Don't listen to a damn thing Riot says. He has a singular cashew for a brain," he mutters, his frustration evident.

You take a step back, processing his words and the subtle vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. Bending down into a bow, you apologize and walk towards the trash can and toss the small invitation in the garbage.

As the hours pass, you diligently work at your computer, stationed in the corner chair of Dynamight's office. Despite the occasional interruptions to run errands or print out papers, you remain focused and dedicated to your tasks. Unbeknownst to you, Dynamight observes your every move, silently appreciating your unwavering work ethic. He can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his own path as a pro hero, realizing that he could never envision himself in your position.

As the day progresses into late noon, Dynamight taps away at his phone, engaged in a text conversation with Red Riot. "So, are we getting a week off or what?" he types, eagerly awaiting his comrade's response. The screen displays the familiar bubble of three dots, indicating that Red Riot is typing. Within a moment, the response arrives: "Hell yeah, dude!" Dynamight can almost hear Red Riot's enthusiastic tone echoing from the words on his screen.

With a satisfied grin, Dynamight sets his phone down, ready to enjoy the upcoming week of well-deserved rest. However, as he looks up from his phone, he realizes that you are no longer in the office. The chair sits empty, the computer screen casting a faint blue glow. Biting the inside of his cheek, he picks up his phone and begins dialing your number, curiosity piqued by your sudden absence.

As the phone rings for a mere moment, Dynamight observes your figure darting into the office, hastily throwing the door open. Your face reflects a mixture of panic and calm urgency as you speed-walk over to his desk. With his mouth slightly ajar, he ends the ringing call, intrigued by the urgency in your demeanor.

With a huff, you slam a handful of papers down and look at the hero. His face remains straight and unreadable. "Anything else you need, Dynamight?" you say, slightly staggered breath escaping your lips. The blonde hero blinks a couple of times, tilting his head as he looks at the stack of papers.

Extending his finger to lift one of the papers, he looks back up at you. "And might I know what the fuck is on my desk, L/n?" he says, his polite tone dripping with condescension. Clenching your jaw, you manage a half-smile. "Apologies, Dynamight! These are your schedules for the next three months. I've strategically organized each event to your liking, be it fundraisers, press conferences, speeches, or office schedules-"

"Even the shitty high school reunions?" he interrupts with a sly smirk. You chuckle at his response. "Yes, I made sure to make those an optional choice for you," you say with a smirk.

Dynamight scans through the papers, his face focused. Suddenly, he slams a particular paper down and points to a specific line of text. "October 16th, that's a Wednesday. Why is there a press conference scheduled on that day?" he questions.

Raising your eyebrows, you lean over to look at the indicated line. "I scheduled a press conference on that day because you'll be accompanying Red Riot to the Golden Hall to celebrate his birthday. When there are many people with similar expertise and professions gathered, it's considered a press conference," you explain with a smile. "Plus, your officials emphasized the need for you to attend more conferences, so… I bent the rules a little," you mumble.

A long pause hangs in the office, Dynamight's eyes fixed on you. "And why should I keep these papers? Couldn't you have just emailed me this as a damn form?" he growls.

"Because you only use your phone on workdays, and even then, you're barely on it. So I figured a printed form would suit you best," you reply calmly. "And what if I lose it? What then?" he retorts with an irritated tone, seemingly upset that you have an answer to all his questions.

As he pays close attention to your every word, he notices your eye twitch.

Letting out a sigh, you place your hands behind your back. "You walk into this office with nothing, so I assume you leave with nothing as well… These papers will be waiting for you safely in a nice drawer upon your return, Dynamight," your tone edges on the brink of scolding. Your boss says nothing, tearing his gaze away from you as he settles back in his chair, focusing on his computer.

"Get out."

Blinking, you slowly bow before making your escape from the seventh ring of hell—Dynamight's office. "Wait!" he yells out, causing you to stop in your tracks. "Yes, Dynamight?" you say wearily. Your boss notices the tiredness in your tone, raising his head slightly.

"Don't come to work tomorrow. Takin' a week off," he says.

"Yes, Dynamight" you say, making another attempt to leave before you were once interrupted. "L/n!" Dynamight calls out for you once more, "Yes?" you say, on the brink of breaking right then and there.

"Rest."

Your eyes widen for a moment, that might be the nicest thing he's ever said you since you started working here. "Yes, thank you...you as well!" You exclaim, soon you grab your computer and push in your chair and rush for the door.

With a slam, Dynamight sighs and stands from his chair "god, that girl." As like every other working citizen in the building he gathers his things and leaves his building. Walking in the secluded garage to his car, he hears rushed footsteps luring behind him.

Turning, he notices his friend.

"Hey dude! mind giving me a ride?" the cheery red head says, Bakugo lets out a deep sigh before opening with the drivers side of the car stepping in. Kirishima gives him a grin before opening the passenger side and throwing his stuff and himself in the car. Starting the engine, the duo zooms out of the garage and onto a secluded tunnel that soon lead to the outside road private from the public to see.

"A whole week off, what are you gonna do, Bakugo?" Kirishima asks excitedly. "Sleeping and ignoring you," the hero replies flatly. Rolling his eyes at Bakugo's response, Kirishima settles into a comfortable silence as they drive. The Japanese sunset bathes his skin in a soft, warm glow, adding a touch of serenity to the moment.

"So… did you get the invitation?" Kirishima asks with a curious tone. "Yeah, not going to Icy Hot's shitty wedding," Bakugo retorts. This earns a groan from Kirishima. "Why not? He's your friend!" Kirishima pleads. Bakugo dismissively responds, "No, he's your friend. I'm just a publicity stunt." The statement hangs in the air, and Bakugo mutters, "Plus, weddings aren't really my thing, y'know?"

Kirishima places his hands on his head, giving Bakugo an irritated look. "Dude, you gotta get out more! Aren't you sick and tired of attending weddings without ever hosting one?" he remarks. This catches Bakugo's attention. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he growls at Kirishima. The red head shakes his head and dismisses Bakugo's anger. "Nothing, Bakugo. Just fucking drive," he sighs aloud.

Bakugo frowns deeply, keeping his eyes on the road. He revs the engine and presses harder on the gas pedal, accelerating the car's speed. Soon, the duo arrives at Kirishima's home. The place exudes a warm and welcoming aura, with signs of life scattered about. Toys dot the lawn, and the sprinkler sprays a fine mist onto the rich green grass. The lawn chairs and picnic table glisten under the sunlight, and the windows emit a cozy glow from the yellow-white lights inside. Bakugo's gaze lands on the mailbox, which bears colorful handprints and the words "Krishma's Rensidance!" etched on the side, written in childlike handwriting.

Kirishima steps out of the car, grabs his belongings, and slams the door. Turning to face Bakugo, he declares, "We're gonna hang out tomorrow! No ifs, ands, or buts!" His toothy smile brightens his face as he waves Bakugo off. As Kirishima makes his way towards his doorstep, Bakugo observes him rummaging for his keys, only to be surprised by the door opening before him.

Bakugo looks closer and sees Kirishima's entire family standing there, welcoming him. His wife holds a baby on her hip, while two toddlers eagerly reach out to embrace the towering hero. Laughter and affectionate words flow from their lips joyfully.

For some reason, Bakugo feels a pang in his chest at the sight. But before he can linger any longer, he looks ahead and accelerates, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Biting his lip, he mutters quietly to himself, "One day."

Maybe one day.

STAGE 1' — money hungry bitch

As Bakugo approaches the voice, he traverses through a gated entrance adorned with lush tropical foliage and tall palm trees, signaling a transition into a serene and exclusive paradise. The path meanders gently downhill, leading him towards the golden sandy shores and crystal-clear turquoise waters.

Upon reaching the beach, he's greeted by a breathtaking panorama. The beach stretches out for a considerable distance, flanked by rugged cliffs on one side and the endless expanse of the azure ocean on the other. The absence of crowds and noise creates a peaceful ambiance, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the natural beauty that surrounds you.

The sand beneath his feet is soft and powdery, inviting you to take a leisurely barefoot stroll along the shoreline. The gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore provides a soothing soundtrack, accentuating the tranquility of the setting.

A series of strategically placed lounge chairs, sun-beds, and umbrellas offer a place to relax and bask in the warm sunshine. Positioned at a comfortable distance from one another, they provide ample space for privacy, allowing you to unwind and soak up the sun's rays undisturbed.

Towards the edge of the beach, the blonde finds a private cabana or a charming beachfront villa. These secluded retreats offer shade and seclusion, providing a cozy space where you can retreat for a moment of respite or enjoy a refreshing drink while relishing the panoramic coastal views.

The private beach setting in a small coastal area in Osaka, a place where people of high status are allowed to frolic without the eyes of the general public and paparazzi to taunt and disturb them. As he looks over at the cabana he sees a group of men waving near him.

Walking closer, Bakugo turns up a small grin. "Sup, guys," he calls out to his friends Kirishima, Sero, and Denki. The trio greets him with bright smiles and open arms, excited to see each other outside of a rigorous work setting. "Holy shit, we're actually here!" Denki says excitedly. "We've been planning this for months, dude," he beams.

Bakugo sits at the cabana and lays back in the modern white beach chair. Its rich plushness comforts his aching muscles. Laying back with a sigh, he closes his eyes in relaxation. "What've you been up to?" Bakugo grumbles.

"The usual, slaving away for humanity," Sero speaks up, making the three other men laugh. "Nah, but seriously, on the lighter side—me and Mina have been talking, and we're thinking of trying to have a—"

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" The blonde rises up from his seat with a frown, sunglasses tilted from the sudden jolt of energy. "What?" Sero says curiously. "What the hell do you mean by 'what?'" Bakugo mocks Sero's response in a mocking tone.

Kirishima takes a swift sip of his margarita, setting it down, he leans over to pat his friend on the back. "Hey, dude, we're happy for you! I remember when me and Imani started trying for kids. It was kinda hard, but I'm sure you'll succeed quicker than us," he says with a smile.

This makes the blonde groan aloud. "Do you even know how weird it sounds when you say that you're trying to have a kid? You're basically telling the whole world that you're fucking every day!" he protests. This makes Denki frown and shake his head.

"Even though it may seem like that, mature people like us three," Denki points towards Sero, Kirishima, and himself, "know that it's more than just fucking, okay?" he says, extending his tongue out for his straw. He lazily takes a sip of his coconut water.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Like you and Jiro have ever had it hard, Kaminari," Bakugo says, disrespect falling off his lips with ease. This makes the yellow-haired man tilt his head in interest. A frown is present on his lips as he stands from his chair and walks towards the blonde.

"Say that again?" Denki leans towards Bakugo, electric currents traveling from his fists and up his arm. "You heard me," Bakugo growls. "You know we've had two miscarriages, right? That's not so fucking easy to handle!" Denki raises his voice.

Soon Sero and Kirishima stand to hold back the yellow-haired man and de-escalate the situation. Bakugo scoffs and leans back in his chair, the cabana suddenly grown quiet. The laid-back and relaxed aura soon turns tense and cold.

"Y'know, Bakugo, you seriously need to grow up," Sero cuts through the tension. "You can't live every day like it's high school. We're grown men with our own problems—"

Sero's words make Bakugo sit up once more. Taking off his sunglasses, the trio is met with his angry red eyes. "And I'm supposed to care about your problems?" he says. "Yes! You are because we're friends!" Sero yells. Bakugo rolls his eyes and nods his head lazily. "Yeah, whatever."

"No wonder no one wants to settle with your brute ass," Denki says. "You're stuck in this narc peak-high school era! You're turning 30 in a couple of years, wake up!" Denki yells.

The tension in the cabana thickens as Denki's words hang in the air. Bakugo's jaw clenches tightly, his fists balling up in frustration. He looks at Denki with a mix of anger and hurt in his eyes. The words hit a nerve, and it takes a moment for him to gather himself.

"You think I don't know that?" Bakugo's voice is low and laced with bitterness. "You think I don't know I'm stuck in some fucking time loop, reliving the same shit over and over again?" He stands up abruptly, knocking the chair backward. His friends take a step back, startled by his sudden outburst.

"You all act like you've got it figured out," Bakugo continues, his voice shaking with raw emotion. "I can't just fly out to the States and marry some foreign supermodel like Kiri, and sadly, like every single one of us, our youth was taken from us. All the burden was on me to save the country back then!" he yells. "So no, I couldn't shack up with my high school sweetheart like none of you guys either!" He yells.

"But I'm still here, still struggling to move forward, still haunted by the past. And you don't think I want more? You think I don't want to change?"

There's a moment of silence as his words hang heavy in the air. Sero, Kirishima, and Denki exchange glances, the weight of their friend's pain sinking in. Kirishima takes a step forward, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Bakugo, we know you've been through a lot, and we're here for you. But you have to let go of this anger, this bitterness. It's holding you back."

Bakugo's expression softens for a brief moment, but then hardens again. "Easy for you to say," he mutters under his breath. Denki takes a step forward, his tone earnest. "We're your friends, Bakugo. We're not here to judge or belittle you. We just want to see you happy, to see you grow and find peace."

Bakugo's shoulders slump, his anger starting to fade away, replaced by a weariness. He looks at his friends, their expressions a mix of concern and genuine care. "I… I don't know how to change," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kirishima steps forward and places a hand on Bakugo's shoulder. "It's okay, Bakugo. Change takes time, and we'll be here with you every step of the way. We'll help you find your path, but you have to be willing to take that first step."

Bakugo's gaze shifts between his friends, a mix of emotions playing across his face. Slowly, he nods. "Alright," he says, his voice filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I'll try… for you guys."

His friends offer him warm smiles, their support evident. They gather around him, offering words of encouragement and understanding. In that moment, Bakugo realizes that he doesn't have to face his demons alone, that he has a support system he can rely on.

As the tension eases, the cabana fills with a renewed sense of camaraderie. Bakugo knows that the road ahead won't be easy, but with his friends by his side, he feels a glimmer of hope. And for the first time in a long while, he starts to believe that change is possible.

Sero leans over to take a shot of his drink, slamming the small glass down. He lets out a smile and exclaims, "Change starts right damn now!" Stepping over towels and drinks, Sero places his hand on top of Bakugo's head and ruffles his hair. "Feast your eyes, young fellow, for there is an array of choices to feast on!" Grabbing the blonde by his jaw, he forces him to look out of the cabana.

Bakugo squints as the bright blue sky crowds his vision. Looking around, he sees many people outside enjoying their day, including women of various heights, tans, and complexions. "Dude, are you serious?" Bakugo says flatly. "Fuck yeah! I mean, unless you don't swing that way…there are guys here too, I guess," Sero says. Bakugo shoves the black-haired man off him with a grunt.

"Shut the fuck up!" Bakugo yells. Sitting back down in his seat, he looks up at his three friends, who all look back with shit-eating grins. "I don't swing that way!" he reiterates. The three back off with 'okays,' as Bakugo looks out of the cabana once more and sets his eyes on a particular woman.

"There! She's hot!" Kirishima says, and as Bakugo looks at the woman, he can't help but agree, at least from a distance. "Go up to her, talk to her, and get to know her. Then boom! Get her number, and you're in it for the long haul!" Kirishima says confidently. Bakugo shakes his head and grabs his water to take a sip. But before he can, Kirishima snatches it from his hands.

"No, no, no! Here," Kirishima gestures to the corner of the cabana. Crouching down, he reaches into the mini cooler and pulls out a rather long bottle of clear liquid. Grabbing a shot glass from on top of the cooler, he cracks open the bottle and pours a hefty amount, some spilling over and dampening the warm sand. Standing up, he cautiously walks over and hands Bakugo the shot.

"You'll need it," he chuckles, making the rest of them go into a fit of laughter. "You know I don't drink," Bakugo says before taking the glass to his mouth and drinking the sour liquid with ease. A burning sensation overtakes him. Bowing his head down for a mere moment before clearing his throat, he raises the glass and flips it over, showing that he's done.

The trio screams in triumph, grabbing him by the feet. Bakugo smiles as he's soon pushed out of the cabana. "And don't come back until you get her number!" Kirishima says. Soon, Sero and Denki grab hold of the ropes to the curtain entrance and close it shut. On the other end, Bakugo can hear the trio giggling like little girls.

Bakugo stands outside the closed curtain, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He looks at the woman Kirishima pointed out, her beauty undeniable even from a distance. A mix of nerves and determination fills him as he walks towards her.

As he approaches, he can feel his palms growing sweaty. He clears his throat, trying to find the right words to say. The woman looks up at him with a curious smile. "Hey there," Bakugo says, his voice coming out a bit rougher than he intended. "Mind if I join you?"

The woman's smile widens, and she gestures to the empty seat beside her. "Not at all," she replies, her voice warm and inviting. Bakugo takes a seat, feeling a surge of confidence.

The woman standing before Bakugo appears to be in her mid-20s, radiating a youthful energy and a sense of confidence. Her long sandy blonde hair cascades down her back, styled in a high ponytail that mirrors Bakugo's own hairstyle. The sun's rays catch the golden strands, lending them a natural shimmer.

Dressed in a vibrant purple bikini that accentuates her curves, she exudes a carefree and beach-ready vibe. A matching floral cover-up is tied around her waist, swaying gently in the ocean breeze. Her sun-kissed complexion boasts a healthy glow, complemented by an array of freckles that sprinkle across her cheeks, adding a touch of charm and playfulness to her overall appearance.

As Bakugo's gaze meets hers, he can't help but feel captivated by her dark blue eyes. They hold a glimmer of curiosity and intrigue, as if she is equally interested in getting to know him. Her eyes convey a sense of depth, hinting at a vibrant personality and a story waiting to be shared. In that moment, time seems to slow down as they lock eyes, creating an unspoken connection between them.

"So, what brings you here?" Bakugo asks, his tone awkward yet filled with genuine curiosity. The woman smiles, amused by his slight discomfort. She lifts her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip, her dark blue eyes fixed on Bakugo's intense red gaze.

"Nothing special, really. Just enjoying myself and trying to meet new faces," she replies, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. Her response intrigues Bakugo, and he nods his head, shifting in his seat to face the bar while still stealing glances at her.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Bakugo continues the conversation. "So, what do you do? Not just anyone is allowed to be here," he chuckles, prompting a giggle from the woman. She takes another sip of her drink, her eyes locked onto his.

"Well, I'm actually just a friend of a friend. She's the one who got me in here, so technically, I'm just an ordinary person," she admits, punctuating her statement with a nervous chuckle.

As their conversation progresses, Bakugo starts to notice something. The woman seems to be ordering more and more drinks, far exceeding what she had when he first arrived. As their conversation nears its end, the bartender returns with the bill.

With a frown, the woman raises the bill to her face. "Cash or card, ma'am?" the bartender asks. "Oh, no, he'll pay for it!" she chuckles, casting a small, sly grin in Bakugo's direction. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as her words sink in.

"Uh, no, I'm not—"

"What?" she interrupts, her tone flat and almost offended. "You're a pro hero. I'm sure you can handle paying for this." She slides the bill towards him, expecting him to oblige.

Bakugo slams his hand down on the bill and pushes it back towards her. "So, that's why you talked to me? Because you wanted a couple of free drinks?" he says, his voice tinged with clear frustration. The woman rolls her eyes in response.

"So, are you going to pay for the drinks or not?" she says, her tone demanding and expectant.

"Money-hungry bitch," Bakugo mutters under his breath. With a huff, he stands up from his seat and heads straight back to the cabana, leaving the woman behind.

Bakugo's frustration grows as he realizes the woman's true intentions. He clenches his fists, trying to control his anger. He can't believe he fell for her act and wasted his time on someone who was only after free drinks.

He storms back to the cabana, needing some space to cool down. The sound of the music and chatter around him fades into the background as he seethes with disappointment. He trusted her enough to engage in a conversation, only to be used for her own benefit.

As he sits in the cabana, he reflects on the encounter. He should have been more cautious and not let his guard down so easily. It's a lesson learned, a reminder that not everyone has genuine intentions.

Taking a deep breath, Bakugo decides to put the incident behind him. He won't let this one encounter ruin his evening. He reminds himself that there are plenty of other people at the party, and he can still enjoy himself.

With renewed determination, he stands up and heads back to the lively atmosphere. He joins a group of his friends and engages in conversation, letting go of the negative experience from earlier. Bakugo focuses on enjoying the rest of the night, surrounded by people he trusts and values.

Although disappointed by the woman's behavior, Bakugo doesn't let it define his evening. He learns from the encounter and moves forward, ready to make the most of the remaining time at the party. As he goes over to his friends, one of them pats him on the back, not even asking what happened while he was gone.

"There's always more fish in the sea…"

STAGE 2' — blabbermouth

As Bakugo sits across from the woman in the VIP lounge, he can't help but feel a growing sense of frustration and disappointment. Her monologue continues unabated, and he finds himself struggling to stay engaged in the conversation. Her lack of interest in getting to know him or even asking about his own passions and experiences becomes increasingly apparent.

He tries to interject, hoping to steer the conversation toward something more balanced and engaging, but his attempts are quickly overshadowed by her relentless chatter. It feels as though she is more interested in hearing her own voice than in connecting with him on any meaningful level.

Bakugo's mind begins to wander, his thoughts drifting away from the conversation at hand. He starts to question his own decision to venture into the dating scene, wondering if finding a genuine connection with someone will prove to be an impossible task.

Unable to endure the one-sided conversation any longer, Bakugo gathers his courage and interrupts the woman mid-sentence. "Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I was hoping for a more balanced conversation," he says, his voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

The woman's smile falters for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise. She takes a moment to process his words, seemingly caught off guard by his candidness. After a brief pause, she offers a sincere apology, realizing her own self-centeredness in the conversation.

"I'm sorry," she says, her tone softened. "I didn't realize I was dominating the conversation. Let's start over and take the time to learn about each other. I genuinely want to get to know you."

Bakugo's annoyance eases a bit, appreciating her willingness to own up to her mistake. "Look, you're you're a great girl, but I gotta bounce."

"You're a hero, I get it," she responds, and he lets out an awkward chuckle. "Yeah, duty calls," he says flatly. Standing up, he heads for the door, making his way to his car. He speeds off, feeling the need to vent his frustrations to his friends.

In a flurry of angry texts, Bakugo rants about the encounter he just had. He lets out his frustration, seeking support and understanding from his buddies. Their replies offer words of encouragement, reminding him not to let one bad experience bring him down.

With each message, Bakugo's anger subsides, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and reassurance. He knows he can count on his friends to boost his spirits and help him navigate through tough situations.

Driving down the road, Bakugo's focus shifts from the negative encounter to the positive relationships in his life. He looks forward to hanging out with his friends and enjoying their company. Determined to make the most of the evening, he leaves the frustration behind.

As the city lights whiz past, Bakugo's mind clears, and he immerses himself in the present moment. He embraces the excitement and energy that come with being a hero, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

STAGE 3' — yandere

The next date arrives, and it turns out to be a complete disaster.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you. Trust me, you have no idea," the girl says. They are sitting at a nearby restaurant, and the hero looks at her, sensing her eagerness.

"So… you mentioned that you do hero work. What kind of hero work do you do?" Bakugo asks, attempting to initiate a conversation.

"Oh, well, I happen to know a couple of heroes personally, and I've been following you around for some time now. I've been meaning to finally meet you—" she starts, but Bakugo interrupts, feeling uneasy.

"You've been following me around?" The blonde becomes increasingly uncomfortable in his seat upon hearing her words. She starts to stammer, looking nervously at the floor and then back up at him.

Suddenly, her hands slam loudly on the table, drawing attention from nearby tables. "Dynamight! Katsuki Bakugo! I'm in love with you!" she blurts out, her voice filled with intensity.

Bakugo's eyes widen in disbelief as the girl's confession hangs in the air. He sits frozen in his seat, unsure of how to respond to such a sudden and intense declaration. The atmosphere in the restaurant grows awkward, and he can feel the eyes of other diners on them.

"Uh… what?" Bakugo manages to stammer, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and discomfort. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, feeling a wave of unease wash over him. This is not at all what he expected from this date, and he's unsure of how to handle the situation.

The girl's face turns bright red, and she covers her mouth with her hands, as if regretting her outburst. "I-I'm sorry," she stutters, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to say it like that. It's just… I've admired you for so long, and I thought maybe we could have a connection. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Bakugo takes a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to find the right words to respond. He can sense the sincerity in her words and recognizes that her emotions have gotten the best of her. Despite feeling caught off guard, he doesn't want to hurt her feelings.

"Look, I appreciate your admiration, I'm flattered really," Bakugo says, his voice firm but not unkind. "But it's too soon for me to reciprocate those feelings. Let's take things slow and see where it goes."

The girl's expression shifts from embarrassment to a sight of disappointment. She nods, her eyes downcast. "I understand," she murmurs softly. "But I really do love you."

Bakugo offers a small smile, trying to alleviate the tension. "Um, Yeah…" Looking towards his left he spots a restroom. "Hey, you don't mind if I hit the stalls right quick eh?" he asks. The woman across from him, head hung low.

"But I love you."

Eyes going wide, he soon leaves from his seat and cautiously heads for the door and speeds off.

STAGE 4' — acceptance

So just like you, Dynamight derives from the same misfortune of dating in his 20's being absolutely shitty.

Following the next Monday, Bakugo strides into his office, feeling refreshed and energized. He settles into his chair behind the desk, surrounded by reminders of his heroic achievements. The room is adorned with trophies and mementos, a testament to his unwavering dedication to protecting the city.

As he gazes out of the large windows, Bakugo's red eyes reflect a sense of contemplation. Thoughts drift back to the words spoken in the cabana. They hold a truth he can't ignore—finding love has been a challenging journey for him. While his friends effortlessly find their partners, his life has been consumed by battles and the responsibility of safeguarding countless lives.

Memories of his high school years flood his mind, the weight of the city and country pressing upon him during the war against the League of Villains. It was a time when his determination burned brightest, but it left little room for personal pursuits. The demands of his heroic duties offered no respite, no chance to indulge in leisure or explore romance.

In his youth, he dreamt of finding that special someone, of experiencing a deep connection. Yet, as time passed and his heroism took center stage, those aspirations faded. His ambition burned hotter than the desire for companionship, and the pursuit of love lost its allure in the face of his unwavering dedication.

Now, sometimes he might have a one-night stand here or there. But it's only to subside his manly urges. But besides that, he was completely alone. With the only thing surrounding him were the stole cold trophies and awards.

But his train of thought was cut short.

"Good morning, Dynamight! How was your break?"

The hero watches as you walk in, your attitude more chipper than usual. A warm smile cascades across your face as you set a couple of neatly organized papers on his desk. As he eyes you, he notices a striking difference in your appearance.

Instead of your regular bleak all-black attire, you decided to spice things up. You're wearing a black dress shirt with a matching loose sweater and a pencil skirt. His eyes waver down and, wait, are those heels?

The hero can't help but admit that you look good.

"Fine, you?" he asks, but instead of getting a response, he looks up and sees you in the corner of the room texting with a smile on your face. As you finish texting, you place your phone in your bag and look back at the hero.

"Great," you say with a smile, but suddenly your phone rings and your face is glued back to the screen. With a sigh, the hero tends to his paperwork, but he's puzzled by the sight before him.

"Sauna date??? Movies??? Take him home???" is written on the paper. "Mr. and Mrs. L/n? What the hell?" Dynamight mumbles in confusion, the paper still in his hand. His eyes tear from the paper and back to you.

"L/n." "Yes, Dynamight?" You ask, currently occupied sneaking a good morning text to your date. Dynamight sighs and rubs his temple with his free hand. The blonde began to think to himself:

So everyone is just shacked up but me huh? "Strike two," he says with a cold tone.

Eyes snapping up from your phone your face is puzzled, you find your boss holding a piece of paper. Looking closer you grow warm in embarrassment. It was a random loose leaf paper of writing—words consisting of you having your date last name and next date ideas scattered all over it.

"It's a strict policy we have here…keep your romantic endeavors outside of work, you of all people should know that." He says, voice stern and strong he stands from his chair and walks close to you.

As he looks at you, he eyes you down and starts to look at your features intensely. From your batting eyelashes to the shine in your pupils. Every mark, freckle, or scar adorned on your face was taken into sharp notice.

"I'm sorry, Dynamight… it won't happen again," you say softly, feeling a mixture of guilt and embarrassment. Dynamight looks at how you look like a deer caught in the headlights, snapping from his thoughts he takes the paper, crumpling it up and shoves it into your palm with a dismissive gesture.

For a moment he thought you were cute. "Right," he says coyly, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. Without another word, he turns and walks away, and you instinctively follow suit.

You both make your way down to the basement of the building, where a private parking lot reserved for top employees and heroes awaits. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished gravel reverberates in the air as you quickly catch up to Dynamight's wide strides. As you look ahead, you notice a chauffeur stepping out of the driver's seat of a sleek, black luxury SUV. The chauffeur promptly walks over to open the door, extending a hand to assist you and the pro-hero.

As the hero takes his prideful steps into the car, he was in deep thought. Thinking about a conversation he had in the cabana:

"What about L/n?"

The hero shakes the emerging thought from his head in an instant. Looking over, he notices you looking out the window, lost in your own thoughts. Watching how the Japanese sunrise hits your skin and pours into your eyes. Lips pursed and eyes relaxed as you throw yourself deeper in thought. Biting your lip you look back down at the papers in your hand

But soon, you glance up from your work, meeting Dynamight's gaze in a brief moment of eye contact. The young hero didn't know what to feel when his eyes met yours, but before he get lost in your eyes. You pull your gaze away can return to your work.

For a moment Dynamight thinks to himself that maybe he should try and get to know you, he realizes that from most of his secretaries, you seemed more tolerable than usual.

"So… who's the guy?" Dynamight breaks the thick tension in the air, causing you to pause from your typing and look at him with a rather shocked expression. "I'm not permitted to tell you that information, Dynamight," you say, maintaining a professional tone. The pro hero rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed with your response.

"Fuck the rules, I'm your boss," he retorts, contradicting himself with a hint of frustration. You swallow nervously and shift your gaze to the window, observing the bustling city of Japan at such an early hour.

"I met him during my week off. He's a good guy, and we're attracted to each other–"

"That's it?" Dynamight interjects with a snort, and you blink, trying to restrain yourself from showing your irritated state. "Well… I'm not exactly comfortable discussing my personal life in detail," you respond politely, hoping to defuse the tension. However, as you glance over, you notice Dynamight giving you an unamused look. He soon adjusts in his seat and leans his head back, signaling his disinterest in further conversation.

"Whatever," he says dismissively, the hero soon shuffles in his seat and leans his head back. Closing his eyes he tries to think of anything else but his mind travels back to the conversation he had in the cabana.

"What about L/n?" Kirishima says, his curiosity piqued.

"No fucking way!" the blonde responds, his voice filled with disbelief. "Who is L/n?" Sero and Denki say simultaneously, their interest now fully sparked. Bakugo looks over at his friends, his intense gaze silently pleading for them not to say another word.

"L/n, Y/n L/n. She's the new secretary," Kirishima says with a mischievous grin, unable to contain his excitement any longer. As he speaks, the duo's eyes widen with intrigue. The mention of a new arrival in their midst always manages to stir their interest.

"Dude, another one? They just keep dropping like flies," Sero chuckles, his amusement evident in his voice.

"Nah, man, this one is staying, I swear," Kirishima retorts confidently, pouring himself a drink as he settles into his seat. He takes a moment to savor the anticipation in the air before continuing, "Like hell she is," Bakugo mutters under his breath, his arms crossed and an air of defiance surrounding him.

Denki gazes at his friends, his curiosity piqued. "Well, which one is it? Is she staying or leaving?" he asks, unable to contain his eagerness for more information.

"Bakugo doesn't want to admit it, but she's good at what she does," Kirishima states with a mix of admiration and pride. "She has this attitude that I've never seen before. She reminds me of how we all used to be at UA— young and a ball of determination and confidence waiting to be popped," he boasts, his voice filled with nostalgia and fond memories.

"Plus, she's got a nice swing to her ass… and I'd tap that if I were you—" Kirishima continues, but his words are abruptly cut off by Bakugo's fierce interruption.

"Enough! Please!" the blonde's voice echoes through the cabana, a mix of frustration and embarrassment evident in his tone. He had hoped his friends would steer the conversation away from such personal matters, but it seems they were determined to tease him relentlessly.

"She sounds like a hoot. I'd say go for it," Denki chimes in, raising his glass in a toast to support his friend's potential romantic endeavors. His mischievous grin hints at the mischief he envisions unfolding.

"I mean, I think you should go for it too," Sero adds, his voice laced with playful encouragement. "And what's the worst that can happen? Just fire her," he suggests casually, taking another sip of his drink.

Bakugo leans back in the beach chair, his mind now abuzz with a mixture of thoughts and emotions. The words of his friends swirl in his head, tempting him to consider the possibilities. He contemplates the impact this new secretary might have on his life and the potential adventures that lie ahead.

Soon he feels a jolt pushing his side to side, opening his eyes he sees you. Face content and cold, "We're nearing your destination Dynamight." You say, gathering your things you hand him papers. The hero kept his gaze on you for a moment before looking down and shuffling the papers, mumbling to himself.

I'll think about it…

You thought you were getting closure from the cliffhanger lol, nah...

Pulled this out of my literal ass, so this might be the last chapter you're getting out of me for a while LMAO (not to long tho stay seated).

Finally getting back on my zoom and writing more! I have so many ideas to share with you, I'm so fucking excited to share them with you all!

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎

❥: @r-ans, @xo-evangeline, @superkittywonderland, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @bollzinurmouth, @gold24fish, @xasilex, @the-queen-of-sorrows, @itgetzweird08, @yoyosocks165, @zyxys1, @your-mom83, @pebblepoop, @lovra974, @suchagoodgirixoxo, @bakugospartner, @gaby-11, @smokers-sweetheart, @akqsa-xxi, @StableCreator93, @alhina, @din-O-bi-wan, @jolynegf, @sad0ni0n, @wore-for-anime, @a1hina, @goldenglow149, @aliruuiz, @zany17, @zukowantshishonourback, @uvula6927, @ilovedenk-i, @LavaLampFullOfSoup, @echosfadve, @atsushiki, @smolbeanzzz, @urdecentartist09, @lem-hhn, @stevenknightmarc, @violetseon, @katsu-shi, @ryumiii, @idontevenknowlolls

#— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎ #mha #mha headcanons #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha imagines #bnha insert #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #lovelyiida #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader series #bakugo fic #bakugo series

[thisblogisaboutabook]

hi! i saw that you were writing acotar fics inspired by taylor’s songs (which i both love so this is amazing), do you think you can write a fic based on “ivy” ? it always makes me think about the acotar world for some reason. maybe with azriel if you’re okay with that ?

Am I okay with that?? I’m more than okay with that! Perhaps even elated! Azriel is my fav and I had the pleasure of seeing Taylor and Aaron perform Ivy together at the Eras Tour. Thank you so much for the incredible ask!

Ivy (covered in you)

An ACOTAR oneshot inspired by Taylor Swift

Azriel x Reader

Update: Find the bonus chapter here: Solstice Tree Farm (Christmas Tree Farm)

warnings: attempted SA, dub-con, suggestive, language

Warm lips pressed against my forehead as calloused fingertips deftly pushed aside the stray hairs that had slipped over my face.

We’d been wrapped up here for hours. An incandescent glow emanating from us that had nothing to do with the warm fire shrouding us in its flickering light. A plush blanket draped over our naked forms as my hands roamed freely underneath. His skin was warm, heavenly, every sacred inch of it bringing solace to my frigid heart. His own heart responsible for melting away the frost that covered it most of the time.

I leaned up to look at him, this male whom I loved with every ounce of my being. Looked into those golden-flecked hazel eyes that bore straight into my soul, seeing all of me, every cursed inch.

“You’re mine.” I whispered, pulling a large scarred hand over my breast, letting him feel the heart that beat so effortlessly in his presence. “Always mine, right in here.”

His hand lingered there, eyes filled with reverence as he absorbed each beat of my heart, every thought that filled my head, the entirety of my soul that was consumed with him - screamed that it loved him, desired him, belonged to him. Minutes passed like that. My fingers tracing soothing lines around those beautiful scars, scars derived from the ugliest of places. He was my reminder, my hope, that beauty could grow from the ugliest places. He survived the unspeakable horrors of his childhood and became this wonderful male before me. A beacon of hope rooted so deeply into my soul, filling it with rays of love that flooded out the darkness within me. The darkness that-

A hideous laugh cracked through the memory, like lightning jolting my thoughts back to this waste of a reality. My husband sharing some crass tale that he’d recycled with the audiences of various court functions over the years.

I threw back the glass of wine in my hand just in time to catch the attention of an attendant strolling by, placing the empty glass on his tray and snagging two more glasses off of it. I’d need them both to get through his pompous storytelling.

I resented the male with every fiber of my being. I wanted to hate him but told myself he wasn’t that bad. He didn’t hit or threaten violence against me. I had every physical item I could ask for. I even had blissful breaks from his presence, free to roam where I chose in his absence - so long as I didn’t leave Vallahan and maintained a modest, ladylike presence.

He didn’t have the brain to challenge any of the bigoted views instilled in him growing up: belief in the separation of “lesser-fae” and “high fae”, a wife’s place was to sit obediently by his side and look pretty, females didn’t have a place in court politics. I would have never married him, given the choice. But what is choice in a place like Vallahan? I wished Mor were here to suffer through the evening with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My life changed the night I met Morrigan - an emissary from Prythian. We instantly hit it off. My husband dismissing her presence as she was merely a female, waving me off to “entertain” her. I led her to my library where we spoke for hours. I could not remember the last time I laughed like I did that night, had I ever?

From the start, I informed her that spending time with me was a futile effort. I had no sway in the court or even with my husband. I once had hope that he’d come around, see me as an equal who was worthy of his consideration. But that was a long time ago and I’d since given up - biding my time with wine, books, and spending his money.

I made a difference in the ways I could without getting cut off from the liberties of leaving the estate. I spent his money in less affluent areas of our city where I knew that it would make a difference. I tipped any server well and even tipped the shopkeepers and clerks, donated gifts my husband had given me that he’d since forgotten about, “accidentally” dropped gold marks as I walked past buskers and beggars in the street. Vallahan was incredibly wealthy. There was no excuse for the poverty that its royalty allowed to befall its “lesser” denizens.

Mor had simply waived off my efforts in sending her back out to network with the nobility and spent the duration of that event with me. We swapped tales of our lands, risqué jokes, of our families. Her family had been much worse than mine but elements were quite relatable. My family saw me as nothing more than a bargaining chip, marrying me off to the highest bidder, having nothing to do with me unless they needed an invitation to an event that could advance their social standing. I couldn’t relate, however, to her chosen family. I had nobody. She smiled, mentioning of a friend in her chosen family that I would love. She claimed we both held silent, observant statures in public settings, and let our true light shine when we were alone with friends. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that this was the first time in a century I’d truly let the light break through.

We began seeking eachother out at the functions she attended as emissary. Using my silent presence, I would garner information that could aid Mor in her peace treaty efforts. She never once asked such a thing of me. It was my choice to offer the information, a chance to make a difference. My idiot husband never once considering that her and I could be talking about anything other than classic literature and the latest fashions.

It was months later that I sat in our manor’s great room, quietly reading a book whilst sipping on a blend of spiced tea Mor had gifted me from Prythian. The sun shone through the windows, keeping the room illuminated enough while leaving shadowed corners perfect for going unnoticed and unbothered in.

Hushed voices interrupted my reading as my husband and a stern looking red-headed male entered the opposite end of the room, seating themselves in front of the fireplace - their chairs facing away from me. Without noticing my presence, they began speaking of communications between his court and the mortal queens. My ears perked at the mention of Koschei and something about an alliance. The males were interrupted by a house attendant informing them that their private lunch was prepared and awaiting them in the dining room.

The next time I spoke with Mor, her brows furrowed at the mention of the conversation, asking me to describe the male as best I could. I gave her the best description I could including his red hair, cold expression and baritone voice. Her jaw slackened, mouth forming an “Oh” before she muttered, “Fucking Beron.”

My eyes widened at the name. Beron Vanserra, the High Lord of Prythian’s Autumn Court.

From there, Mor asked if I remembered the friend she’d mentioned before, the observant one with quiet wit. As I nodded, she placed a gentle hand on my leg, quietly stating, “I need your help.”

We made a plan to meet up with her friend the following week as my husband traveled to Rask for meetings. I met Mor at the quarters she stayed at while on the continent. The room smelled of her and an intoxicating aroma of chilled mist and cedar. Mor hugged me before saying, “Y/N, meet Azriel. Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Any expectations I had of the “friend” Mor mentioned flew out the window. I never thought to question whether her friend was male or female, if they were high-fae, what they looked like… maybe I should have. I had to look like a fool as I gaped at the gorgeous male stepping out of the shadows and into the room’s light. Gold-flecked hazel eyes met mine as I marveled at the towering male before me. Raven-black hair, tan skin with tattoos peaking over the top of his black tunic, and the wings, oh they were incredible. The sun highlighting the subtle hues of red undertones throughout their massive form. An Illyrian. I’d read of the Illyrian warriors of Prythian in texts but I’d never seen one in person.

His jaw dropped for a moment as he looked to my feet where shadows were swirling. He apologized profusely as they ignored his command to return to him, stating that they had never done this before. I gave him a puzzled look before he continued, telling me that he was a Shadowsinger.

A Shadowsinger. I thought they were myths but here he was. This gorgeous, living, breathing male before me. As real as the palpitations I felt in my heart under his gaze.

Quickly I regained my composure as the three of us sat to discuss the information I’d gleaned from Beron and my husband. And from there, we worked together. The more information regarding a potential alliance we had, the more efficiently plans could be made to prevent it. Both Mor and Azriel respectfully ensured that I was comfortable with an increased spy presence as I worked with them. The risks of infiltrating were numerous but the risk of a potential alliance with Koschei outweighed any risk on our ends.

Azriel would sneak into court functions with Mor as she attended her standard emissary business - his shadows shrouding him from view, and I would meet with either Azriel or Mor anytime my husband was traveling on business to discuss the latest information from around the manor.

While my husband was completely oblivious, his family was dangerous. An elite family of nobility who dealt in bloodshed and blackmail. I was truly fortunate to not have been married off to one of his brothers - my husband being the least terrible of them all.

That night as I lay in bed, I found my heart racing. Not from fear but from…. Excitement. Azriel’s presence made me feel hopeful, giddy. He continued bringing up his concern for my safety during our meeting to which I insisted that I could handle myself. His persistence enough that by the end, I allowed him to send a shadow to accompany me for the time being.

I came to find the little shadow comforting. I knew from my studies that they were to be feared, yet I couldn’t help but enjoy its company. I began talking to it when nobody was around going as far as reading to the thing. Gods, had I really become so lonely that a shadow brought me joy?

The first time I met with Azriel alone, he gave me a mischevious grin. When asked what it was for, he just shook his head with a little blush rising to his cheeks. I shared my newest information while his eyes held a playful glint the entire time he listened. I finally elbowed him and insisted he tell me what he found so amusing.

Finally he spoke, “I enjoyed the smut you read to my shadow”

“WHAT!?” I asked, embarrassment rising to my face in an unflattering shade of red.

“My shadows… they tell me everything.” He quipped.

I looked at the shadow now cowering behind my ankles, “You traitorous little shit. I thought we were friends!”

Azriel laughed as the shadow wound up my body and nuzzled my face, a plea for forgiveness. I laughed knowing I should have expected it to relay the information to him.

I smirked, “I forgive you.”

The shadow danced joyfully in response.

Azriel leaned closer, “You seem to have made quite the friend out of that one.”

I nodded in agreement. Blushing at the closeness between our faces.

He smiled. “I’d like to be your friend too.”

Before I could give it a second thought, I closed the distance between us. I had just met this male, barely knew him, but something inside me tugged. Pulled me toward him. I couldn’t hold myself back. It was instinct. My lips needed to be on his, belonged there.

For a moment, he pulled back and looked at me. His eyes searching deep within mine, second guessing, searching for any doubt, seeking permission though I was the one to initiate the kiss.

It was wrong. I knew it was so wrong. I didn’t care. I never had a choice in my marriage but this, it was something I was choosing for myself. So long as Azriel wanted it too.

“Please” I whispered.

It was all he needed to hear before his lips were crashing into mine again.

That was the night the bond snapped into place and my soul became his entirely. Every fiber of my being belonged to him regardless of wherever my physical presence may be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As days and weeks flew by, I snuck out to him anytime I could, and when I wasn’t with him - a shadow always kept me company.

Azriel purchased a small cottage in the forest with a stone foundation, just large enough for the two of us. Ivy wound up the sides of the dated building and it’s shutters hung loosely. Most would look upon the home and turn their nose up to the state of it. But to me - to me it was everything.

We made love day and night, any time the coast was clear I sought him out. We shared our deepest secrets, held each other as we shared the heartbreaking traumas of our past. Mor met with me less and less, certainly Azriel’s own doing. Though she always sent her regards. I missed her but couldn’t resist the relief I felt at the increased opportunities to meet with Azriel.

This home felt so inviting. I never wanted to leave the cozy embrace of it, or Azriel. The places I had lived in my life were grand by any standards but they were not home, only large shells of loneliness with the sole purpose of containing bodies and furniture for those bodies.

But this, this small cottage, it was home. Azriel was home. Love and warmth encompassed me as soon as I’d walk through the doors and into his strong arms. Our scents intermingled, bodies intertwined, his love rooting itself like Ivy deeper and deeper within the cracks of my stone encompassed soul, tethering us together until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks turned to months and my resentment towards my husband only grew. I began sneaking off to my home even when my husband wasn’t traveling. The fact that he didn’t notice my frequent absence was both a relief and infuriating. He thought so little of me that he’d never once considered what I could be doing behind his back.

I hated the nights he sought me out. Azriel and I both knew it was inevitable and in order to prevent any suspicion I complied. The entire time I’d close my eyes and picture the corded muscles of Azriel’s arms pressing on either side of my head, warm breath heating my neck as he peppered kisses and nipped down it and across my collarbone, wings cocooning us until we were the only two people in the world.

The times my husband would reach for my hand were rare as it was and now his touch just felt invasive, wrong. I longed for the feeling of Azriel’s freezing hands holding mine as we walked in from the snowy wood, the way he’d place a hand on my cheek allowing me to rest my weary head as I cried over our circumstances. I wanted nothing more than to flee with him but if we were caught….. a gods damned blaze would ensue.

Bond or no bond, my husband’s father would never forgive such an injustice toward his son, deeming it an insult to his entire family. He had enough pull with Vallahan’s Leaders that peace treaty talks had the potential to fall apart under his guidance. I was just one female and not one that a war would be started over, however, it could be the final straw leading to an alliance between the mortal queens, Koschei, Vallahan, and Beron’s people. The alliance being what started a war.

This fire we started together, the fire he started when he came into my life, the one that I fueled with a single kiss, it could burn so much more than just us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I once again was brought from reflecting by my husband’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. Gods, I was tired. Tired in every sense. Azriel and I had argued the previous night. He had insisted that he would not sneak into tonight’s event, sensing an increased possibility of us being caught. I knew he was right but it was one of those nights where I selfishly wanted nothing more than to run away with him.

My husband’s family traveled to our estate for the weekend, his mother had passed long ago, so it was just his father and miserable brothers visiting. Their attendance escalating risks but also offering the potential of pertinent information being exchanged.

I longed to feel his presence but no sign of his scent filled the air, no sign of his shadows grazing the nape of my neck in greeting aside from my one constant companion. As the evening’s festivities died down I bid the remainder of the party goodnight. I joined my husband’s side to let him know that I was retiring to my chambers, pressing a hand to my forehead, citing a headache. He scoffed in return.

“You are drinking too much. It is a poor reflection on my status as head of this household if you cannot control your alcohol consumption.” I rolled my eyes, turning to retreat as he grabbed my arm firmly, yanking me back to him, “You are lucky we have an audience right now. You would be wise to show me respect.” He was always like this when his family was present. Another mark on the long list of qualities I despised about him.

I said nothing more and wound through the corridors toward my chambers when hushed tones caught my ear. The gravelly voices of my father and brothers-in-law carrying to me. I halted my steps, silently padding closer to the room they occupied.

His father spoke first, “We will approach the King when we return home, regarding the pressing nature of the alliance. Between that whore emissary nosing around and the overgrown bat, we can certainly allude to the benefits of an alliance with Koschei and the queens. Prythian nosing around in the affairs of our kingdom will only work to our advantage.”

The eldest brother chimed in, “Do you think Koschei will hold to his end of the bargain - that we will each receive a territory to overrule in Prythian once it’s been conquered?”

“Considering we have the key to freeing him from the lake he’s confined to, he’ll do anything for us, and when we capture the bat - it will only enhance the deal. Think of what could be achieved with the Shadowsinger under his control.” His father replied.

Shit

I needed to get to Azriel now. How did they even think they could capture him? The fools were so sure of themselves, fueled by pure male arrogance. Quietly I turned around taking a few silent steps away before quickening my pace. I left Azriel’s single shadow that still kept an eye on me to spy on the rest of the conversation.

Rounding a corner toward the cloakroom I crashed into a body. I looked up to find my husband staring at me. “Where are you going?” He murmured. Clearly drunk.

“I needed fresh air, my stomach is hurting.” I lied.

“That can wait. You’re coming with me.” He stated flatly. Lust clouding his eyes.

Shit!

I couldn’t turn him down without raising suspicion. Finding Azriel would have to wait until he was asleep.

I turned to stride down the hall alongside him. Silence filling the air, his scent gagging me.

We entered his chamber and he locked the door behind him before pushing me back toward the bed. Once the backs of my knees met the mattress he shoved me back onto it, not even bothering to remove my dress. He simply raised my skirts, fumbling with the laces of his own pants.

I felt sick. I hated contact with him, the resentment I felt burning like a living flame inside of me - forging itself into pure, solid hate.

“Look your husband in the eyes, wife. Is it not enough that I clothe you, feed you, give you a home only outdone by a castle?”

My brows furrowed as he continued, still fumbling with those laces.

And I was the one who couldn’t control my alcohol consumption

“You seek the company of a lesser fae? Allowing yourself be sullied by that beast?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked innocently. It was then that he backhanded me and spat “Don’t play dumb now, whore.” I cried out at the surprise of the lashing. “Since you’re going to act like a whore I’ll treat you like one.”

“It’s a shame that you couldn’t control yourself. You almost got away with it until you were spotted with that thing yesterday - spotted by my own brother.” Sneering, he continued, “Oh but they have plans for that brute and you are the key.”

With that he pulled out a knife, holding it just above my throat, his hand slightly shaking. Panic started to fill me as the realization sunk in that he was going to use me as a lure to capture Azriel. I swallowed that rising panic praying he hadn’t felt it through the bond.

I had to act now. Turning my head, nearly nicking the flesh of my neck on the blade, I gasped as if I saw something - someone - enter the room. The drunken idiot fell for the rouse. I grabbed his wrist, shoving the knife back and kneed him with all the force I could muster right in the balls.

He rolled off of me and I swiped the knife from his hand. Before he could call for help, I took the opportunity to press it to his neck. Azriel’s shadow returning to me just in time to bind his arms together.

”You thought you could assault me? You couldn’t even handle the laces of your pants, let alone a dagger.”

He looked at me, eyes wide, that lust in his eyes taken over by fear.

“I thought you to be better than your father and brothers but I see your true colors now.”

He opened his mouth to cry for help but I sliced the dagger across his neck before he could make a sound.

“Fool.” I muttered and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The manor burned in flames behind me. My body clothed in spare garb kept in the staff supply room as to not attract any suspicious eyes in the streets. The staff had all returned to their own homes for the night with our essential staff returning to their on-ground quarters, separate from the manor. I stashed as many jewels and gold marks as I could into my clothing. I would find a way to distribute the wealth to displaced staff once I found a safe way to do so.

But now all I could think of was the path ahead. My husband was gone. His awful father and brothers too. Gone before they could ever share their suspicions of Az and Mor with the king. Gone before they could further influence the forming of an alliance. Their remaining ashes would be nothing but dust in the king’s ear by the time the fire burned out. Prying eyes would assume I had died in the blaze as well.

The realization hit me as I made my way through the streets: I was free. For the first time in my life, I had the choice to follow my own path and I knew exactly who that chosen path led to.

All that remained was to run away to him. I sent a gentle tug on our bond but a certain shadow had already went out ahead of me. And out of the dark cover of night, he emerged. His shadows shrouding us like the Ivy on our cottage. Home. He was my home.

~~~~~~~

EPILOGUE

The dining room filled with laughter. Mor sipped her glass of the expensive wine that she insisted she were entitled to after all of the chaos her family -our family- subjected her to. Azriel’s arm rested on the chair behind me as he sat in contented silence, those ever observant eyes taking in his family seated all together. It had been ten years today since we fled Vallahan. Nine years eleven months and thirty days since we’d accepted the bond, and the rest had been bliss. Of course there was always some challenge to arise but nothing that Azriel and I couldn’t take on as a team, as equals.

In the time that had passed, Beron’s son Eris took over his throne after the High Lord died from a mysterious illness with symptoms very similar to the effects of bloodbane.

After I left the room that fateful night in Vallahan, my favorite little shadow picked up very important information regarding the key to freeing Koschei that had been alluded to. It was now safely hidden away under extensive wards in the Night Court, far away from Koschei or the Mortal Queens.

For now, we were safe. We were free. We could conquer anything with this Court of Dreams.

“Where’d you go?” Az whispered, his beautiful voice bringing chills of the best kind to me as his lips brushed across my forehead. I gave him a smile sending waves of contentment and joy through the bond.

“Hey!” Mor said. “Where’s your wine? Az! How could you forget to pour a glass for your lady.” She threw a playful wink in my direction. “I swear, I’m going to steal her from you if you keep this up.”

I said nothing as I looked to Mor, resting a hand gently across the light swelling of my abdomen.

Azriel’s eyes sparkled and he quipped, “I’m taking a break from wine duty, Mor.”

“Chocolate duty would be great though.” I said, looking back to Az. He gave a nod and I dropped the shield that masked my scent from our family.

Cheers of happiness and laughter erupted around the room. Mor let out a high-pitched squeal like I’d never heard as she embraced me. I smiled, absorbing all of the love that filled the room.

This love. This life. It was home. Not a magnificent curse but the ivy roots of my dreamland covering me in love, in him.

#taylor swift #acotar #acotar oneshot #ivy #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel #morrigan #oneshot #acotar x taylor swift #x reader

[scribbleseas]

in love & in war: the one where he meets you

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: The reader’s opinions are a bit old-fashioned, and they don’t reflect my own! Besides that, I’m sure there will be some explicit content down the line, but honestly, this story is much more romcom than our usually scheduled programming. It’s just a silly palette cleanser in season for Valentine’s Day.

Author’s Note: Hi! You guys expressed that you guys like more frequent posts, and I’ve reached a bit of a roadblock on my main Ciel fic right now. I thought I would write up a quick beginning to a potential drabble series! If you guys are interested in this premise, let me know! It’s fun to write such chill stakes content for once lol. Also, this isn’t based off a particular request! I’m still playing with my ideas from those, and at this point, I can confidently say you guys are getting either a one shot or a 1-3 part series based on one. Thank you all for submitting, and feel free to keep them coming.

Happy Reading!

- Dan

MASTERLIST

In Conference

April, 1895

Your life was nowhere near as easy as it seemed.

Perhaps, the average onlooker might see you and presume that the expensive jewels wrapped around your neck and your fingers were the most burdensome aspect of your privileged life. Or perhaps they might have thought it would be the pinch from your stately heels or the strain from a brilliant, yet strategic, permanent smile.

Your business smile. Your future-Countess-of-Richmond smile.

But they couldn’t have been more wrong.

This very moment was exact proof of that— you were in the midst of your world collapsing. The abject shock rattling through your mind was akin to a nightmare. Your eyebrows pulled together in a contentious pout, the horrified look you used to get away with your most childish crimes from your parents.

“Marriage? Simply not.” You begged, alreadying feeling your will to fight waver under your father’s tired stare, your mother’s pained grin. “I’m only—”

“Of perfect age to begin looking for a potential partner. 22 is well past ready, I would say,” your mother answered for you.

“I would be— but—” you sputtered like a fish out of water only to inhale deeply through your nose. You needed to collect yourself. Negotiate thoughtfully and logically. That was the only way to get yourself out of this.

“Speak with intent, Y/n,” your father interjected boredly, retraining his attention on the business reports he was reading. He fixed his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose.

Speak with intent. You knew those words well. They were your solace, the lighthouse in the storm that came with childhood temperament. Your father, no matter the cause of your distress, would answer: Speak with intent.

“Right,” you cleared your throat apologetically, glancing down at your hands as they sat clasped in your lap. “Sincerest apologies, sir.”

Your father hummed, eyebrows jumping a fraction of a centimeter. He picked up his pen and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the report. Your mother’s hand fell on the nape of his neck to make him turn his gaze back up at you. He hesitated before doing so, waiting to click a stamp onto the signed report.

“I do not wish to marry,” you enunciated your words carefully, confidently. “At least, not yet,” you added, now catching your father’s attention for the blunder. “I’ve yet to meet someone I love,” you felt your face redden, a desire to run back to your room threatening to overtake your fortitude. You were only so strong under your father, the Earl of Richmond’s deliberation stare. It struck fear into the other side of conference tables, lecture halls, and courtrooms. And now, across his desk at his only daughter.

Before your father could remind you that love wasn’t the most important aspect of a successful marriage, your mother interjected gently.

“What about the Duke of Clarence’s son, Antonio? He seemed to like you,” she prompted. Wrongly. You’d danced with Antonio at the Summer Solstice gala that the Pembroke family threw annually. The man opted to use the waltz’s entirety to brag about his family’s Italian vineyards and his love for agriculture. And, of course, his admiration for your father’s entrepreneurial genius. His shipping empire, TransAtlantica, had just successfully fortified shipping systems in all of the states; a step forward from simply cycling through all major ports along the east coast.

“He doesn’t love me,” you complained, “he loves TransAtlantica. He’d much prefer to marry our family corporation!” Antonio was suitable. He was decent, but that’s all he truly was to you. It’s all he ever could be.

You met your mother’s eyes pleadingly, and she pursed her lips, fully knowing the next words out of your mouth. You had a deal. From a young age, you knew the Richmond family, the Y/l/n line, respected contracts more than all else. Since you turned 17, you had one signed by all three parties and dated.

Your mother sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I remember the deal,” she said, taking a moment to consider her own words. The corners of her lips twitched as if she was attempting to hide her amusement with you. She understood— her own father, your grandfather, was just as militant, stiff with professionalism. Promises were negotiations with terms, signatures, and stamps. There were no arguments this way. “Dearest,” she addressed your father, the hand that was on the back jumping to his shoulder, “you do as well.”

“Do you?” You challenged, indignantly crossing your arms. “I request you restate the terms, mother.”

“If we are to pressure you into marriage before you feel ready, you must consent to the courting party,” your father took the liberty of answering gruffly. He squared his shoulders, regarding you purposefully— equal parts exhaustion and respect for your endurance. He cultivated it, after all. It was a fire that burned in your family for generations, as sacred as a temple flame.

“Yes,” you affirmed, “and so, I must choose the man I wish to be with.”

“With respect to your titles— no one below your station. And he must be chosen by the end of this courtship season,” your father added, negotiating. He tilted his head, analyzing your next move.

You knew of the first term since you were a child. You even remembered the exact day you learned them. You were a young girl, a little younger than seven. A young commoner boy had attempted to hand you a rose. Your maid at the time had scolded him for standing in the way of a noble family, since he had stepped out in front of you. It was a discernible moment, truly.

As for your father’s second term… you were unconvinced such a thing could be done.

“The end of the courtship season is in four months,” you replied, frowning. You were sure you met most eligible men in your social class. How were you to form a genuine connection in such little time? Even if you couldn’t find love per se, you still wanted to find someone you were compatible with.

“If we reach that deadline and you find no one, we can talk about it,” your mother answered. “And, you must allow me and your aunt to fix you on outings with suitors we like.

“Fine. Only if Daphne joins me,” you replied, knowing fully well that you weren’t allowed anywhere without your handmaiden present.

. . .

Next week

Your mother was sure not to waste any time in beginning to schedule supervised outings with a different well-educated and ennobled man that was within the appropriate age constraints. You’ve never had such a boring week, brutally torn away from the studies you adored so much.

“—And we’ve got another vacation home down in Tuscany, I think,” the Viscount Lineford’s son concluded, taking a peremptory drink out of his tea. He was dressed crisply in beige trousers that rolled up past his ankle and low leather shoes. His sterling watch sparkled in the spring sun.

You fought a building yawn that tempted the back of your throat, determined to hide your exhaustion with the man. It was a good effort, but you certainly weren’t impressed.

“That must be incredible,” you answered absently. “It must be such a lovely foreign getaway for the Lineford family,” you grinned diplomatically, blind to the horror that twisted his — you didn’t care to remember his name, unfortunately — face.

“Foreign? Excuse me Lady Y/n, but my family traces far back into Italian culture that we are practically Roman…” he started, only for you to interject.

“Will you just excuse me, please?” You struggled to keep the desperation out of your face, calmly searching for your supervisor. She was meant to be sitting at a table nearby, merely ensuring that your outing remained within polite societal constraints. More importantly, Daphne served as your escape when your potential suitors proved most unbearable. All you needed to do was subtly tilt your fan to your left ear and the woman would always scramble over to you with an excuse to steer you out of any scenario you found distasteful.

Such as this one.

Daphne never normally left your side, a realization that allowed worry to creep into your tone. “I’m unsure where my maid went, and I would like to fetch her,” you replied, standing and shouldering your small day bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, chuckling with bitter disbelief at your rudeness. Ladies were supposed to be demure and polite. You were impatient and honest, a product of an Earl knowing that his daughter was the object of his legacy. Your father trained you as he would a son, and your tutors followed in suit. “Surely you’re joking; this is the middle of our tea.”

Her pocketbook and her sweater weren’t even sitting on the chair she had been occupying, causing you to blink at the empty table in disbelief.

“No, I’m not. I think something might be wrong,” you shouldered past the man, stepping between other individuals sitting at the common tables in the park.

“Fine, you aren’t worth it anyway!” He called at your back, but the words hardly registered with you.

The area was rather common for courting pairs to visit in the early spring. However, it could also be populated with…criminals. “Excuse me,” you mumbled, quickly walking down the paved pathway through the greenery to the main sidewalk, the London pavement heavy with pedestrians. The streets were perhaps more crowded with carriages and sweating horses.

You couldn’t be alone in the city! As a woman of your stature, it simply wasn’t done. Never. Ever. It was an affront to your teachings, and it was unsafe. You needed your friend, not some stranger.

“Where is she?” You mumbled, rapidly attempting to discern every face that passed you. Surely it wouldn’t be long until someone recognized you— you were one of the most photographed families in the country. In fact, you were fortunate no one had offered your location to the press while you were on this outing. You never would have heard the last of it.

Some took hold of your handbag and darted off, using your distractedness to his advantage. He ran to the end of the block and crossed the street, weaving through pedestrians once the crossing guard allowed your side to walk over. If your hand hadn’t been tightly clutching the strap as you walked, you never would have noticed.

You did your best to pick up your speed and chase him, yelling out.

You cried out, glancing down at your long springtime dress. Your short heels were nowhere near efficient enough for you to make a chase out of the robbery, nor should have needed to! Even still, you lunged into the street — without looking.

In fact, if you had committed to your step, you would’ve been flattened by an oncoming carriage, given that the crossing guard had ordered pedestrians to stop passing moments prior. The only reason why you didn’t make the life-ruining step seemed to be… a tall young man with a serious face and staggering presence. He only had one exposed blue eye, the other was concealed by a black eyepatch. His grip tightened around your arm, pulling you intimately into his chest.

You breathed heavily, tearing yourself out of his arms. A flair of irritation caused you to glare at him as you righted your stance and smooth your dress. However, he did save you from a potentially life ending situation. His immediate insurance of your safety was more meaningful than a misaligned gown that you fixed in seconds.

In fact, the moment truly was a bit theatrical. The man was handsome enough to make you smile with uncertainty, your irritation melting. “Thank you for that,” you said, relieved that the sidewalk seemed to clear, the crowd dispersing from the main street. “I could have been killed.”

“That would have been quite a shame,” he replied, locking eyes with you. The man made a thin attempt at returning your smile. He was enchanting, regal… your heart skipped a beat, considerably flustered.

…Until he spoke again, completely distorting the immediate magnetic lure you felt from his sharp features: “Rather careless of you, my Lady. You ought to be smarter than that.”

You frowned. “In case you failed to notice, that man stole my handbag and essentially disappeared,” you snapped impatiently. It had your identification, emergency notes in case you needed to purchase something, the current novel you were fixated on…how were you meant to return to the estate now?

“You weren’t catching him, I don’t think,” he noted astutely, watching you as you stepped past him to go in the direction you came from. Perhaps Daphne circled back to the park in search of you. You absolutely needed to find her.

“Thank you for your help. Good day,” you answered brusquely, continuing to walk. However, he remained in stride with you, still unabashedly smug. It quickly absolved you of any former gratefulness you had toward the man for pulling you away from oncoming traffic. Perhaps it might have hurt less to have collided with a horse and a carriage over the velocity and mass of this random man’s ego.

“What, don’t tell me you going to go chase him,” He said patronizingly, a sardonic pull infecting what you thought was initially a careful smile. No, the man was just another arrogant bastard, it seemed. “In those shoes, especially,” He perused, causing you to stop once more and regard him.

“I am a noble woman, you will not speak to me in such a manner no matter what line of—“ you caught the sapphire family and silver crest rings around two of his fingers — “mediocre destitution you come from!” You jabbed purposefully, undeserving of his rudeness and his condescension, no matter what title he occupied in your class. You were the partial inheritor of TransAtlantia; you trained to run the company to some degree since you could speak. Few could step to you.

“I believe I said good day, kind sir,” you added poisonously, daring him to continue to test you before speeding back towards the park. You needed Daphne, you needed an officer…anyone besides this pompous— you ended the thought before you could further infect yourself with such unladylike curses.

It really wasn’t so easy being the daughter of an Earl.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I’ve planned things so Lady Y/n’s maid is off helping a little girl find her mother; I separated the two by distracting the girl with a kitten. Y/n will panic without her maid being within her immediate reach, drawing her out to the street. I will cause her to put herself in harm’s way by distracting her at the corner of 89th Street and Arthur. Be ready by the street post. I’ve made the new paralegal late to his case, he will have instructed his butler to drive quick. You will need to pull her away from the street. If you miss, things may end rather…unfortunately for the young woman,” Ciel Phantomhive’s butler, Sebastian Michealis, outlined.

Sebastian was Ciel’s head butler, his head chef, head landscaper, tailor, tutor… but most importantly, the Earl of Phantomhive’s contracted demon. The supernatural being was at his disposal and his bidding; his new role being the most interesting one of all: matchmaker. He fabricated a scene for Ciel to meet Y/n Y/l/n, and ideally, make her love him.

It was simple, really. Ciel needed a wife; Y/n’s family needed a competent businessman to run that prosperous giant of a shipping enterprise; and most importantly, the woman seemed to be rather competent. The only danger to his strategy was, of course, Y/n’s foul storybook idealism, apparently. Ciel knew Y/n was highly educated and well graced in ettiquiete, but she seemed intent on finding some happily ever after of sorts.

She wanted a husband— a bloody love match. No— she needed an actor to convince her that she was worth marrying beyond the incredible status she represented. There was no asset greater than a title and an economic monarchy to inherit, and securing such a prize meant that Ciel needed to woo her.

“My Lord, you must be considerate, but not too kind. Though you should also refrain from acting too smugly or the lady may take offense,” his butler had offered some horrifically embarrassing — and incredibly unhelpful — acting lessons for him to express the particular warmth Lady Y/n seemed to be looking for.

Love. A feeling Ciel hadn’t known in around nine years. Arguably, it could’ve been more. And yet, in order to stop being solicited by desperate mothers and unlikely candidates, he was securing his bride.

According to Ciel’s butler, that meant he needed to create a memorable foundation in the woman’s mind, an introduction that would leave her curious, impassioned. Wanting more. Something to make him stand out amongst the other faceless, classless mouth breathers who would be vying for TransAtlantica, now that word of her search for a suitor was widespread.

The company and Y/n’s hand were all one in the same courtship, and Ciel was sure the was going to win both.

The Earl of Phantomhive was never one to lose. He’d be remiss to start now.

#anime fanfiction #black butler fanfic #historical fiction #ciel phantomhive x reader #ciel x reader #sebastian michaelis #black butler

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn ends the Night

Aemond Targaryen x Dayne!Reader

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: As a newly woman grown, you learn of your fate as a woman in a men's world.

Notes: Guess who's back? Back again?! I AM BACK (again)!

Hello everyone, I'm thrilled to announce that I'm back! 🎉 After a brief hiatus due to my final undergraduate semester (which I just completed this past Monday – yay!), and amidst the hustle of graduate school applications, I'm finally able to return to writing.

I'm incredibly excited to embark on a brand-new series with you all. I've recently tumbled down the HOTD rabbit hole, and my obsession with Aemond Targaryen knows no bounds! 🐉 I assure you, my other fanfictions haven't been forgotten. I'm currently working on them and, with the festive season around the corner, I look forward to dedicating more time to writing and establishing a more consistent posting schedule.

Your support means the world to me and I love you all so so much💖 Feel free to reach out if you have any special requests, ideas, or if you'd just like to chat. I'm always so happy to connect with mutuals!!! Love you all

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Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prologue - The Ghost of Starfall

All your life, your father had assured you that you would marry into the Martel family, destined to reign over Dorne like the ancient Dayne kings of the Torentine. But these plans shifted when Quoren Martell welcomed his daughter, Aliandra, who was destined to become the future Princess of Dorne and Lady of Sunspear. And although the Dornish were much more unrestrained than their counterparts on the continent, you were quite certain that they would not accept you becoming the princess’ consort. Two women officially ruling Dorne? Even that would be a bit too radical for the love-loving Dornishmen.  

After his plans to make you the future ruling princess of Dorne fell through, your father started to envision a different future for you. You could still vividly recall nights spent perched on his knee, gazing up at the starlit sky. The cool desert breeze caressing your skin as you looked on in awe, your father's voice weaving tales of the grand life awaiting you as the Lady of Starfall. Those few precious moments, however, faded into memory with the arrival of your 13th birthday and the birth of Gerris. That misty morning marked a shift in everything when your brother came into the world screaming his little lungs out marked the end of your future as the Lady of the Dawn. As although Dorne's inheritance laws, shaped by Nymeria and the Roynar, endorsed absolute primogeniture, the stony Dornish your kin, those with deep roots in the First Men and the Andals, still favored the firstborn son. Technically, you knew you could challenge this tradition. You had the right, the means, and perhaps even the support of Qoren Martell to retain your birthright. 

Yet, as you watched your father, his eyes brimming with wonder and joy at the sight of his newborn son, a decision settled quietly within 13 years old you. And with a heavy heart but resolute spirit, you chose to step aside. You withdrew silently, without protest or fanfare, setting aside your claim for the love of your family. And as the years passed you by, you found yourself amid whispers and wishes for Gerris who was still but a babe, to inherit the revered honor of your house — the title of “Sword of the Morning," a symbol of unmatched valor and prestige among your kin, that only the braves and more chivalrous could inherit. Each mention from the courtiers was a poignant reminder of your own path, not as a son of House Dayne, but as its daughter. Not as the lady of the castle, but as its ghost, a ghost of better times, simpler times. But in quieter moments, you tried to find solace in the belief that there were other, perhaps more subtle, ways to serve and honor your family. You had read all that there was to read about rulership, about history and about philosophy and you knew that true power could manifest in a myriad of forms, not solely in the strength of arms. As you gaze upon the intricate tapestry of your family's history, you knew that your role was no less significant and that you would radiate with your own bright light. 

But for you, whispers of Dawn or grand destinies were absent, their echoes replaced by a more pragmatic reality. In place of tales of great adventures beyond the narrow sea, the halls of Starfall began to fill with a different kind of anticipation. The noble houses of Blackmont, Toland, Uller, and even the Yronwood sent their envoys and heirs. This cavalcade of suitors, a stark contrast to the dreams of your future before Gerris’ birth solidified your new role within the walls of your father’s castle. It was a shift, subtle yet profound, marking both an end and a beginning. You were no longer the future ruling Lady of House Dayne; you were now a key figure in its political future. 

Duty became a familiar companion, yet melancholia was your closest confidante, a shadow that dimmed the brightest of days. This deep-seated wistfulness made entertaining suitors an arduous task and instead, you found solace gazing from the high castle walls, eyes wandering over the sandy mounds and the winding Torentine, over the stony mountains that cradled Starfall away from the continent's heart. 

There, atop those ancient walls, you would lose yourself in dreams, wrapped in the embrace of solitude. It was in these moments of quiet reflection that you yearned to be something more, something beyond the expectations set upon you. They began to call you the 'Ghost of Starfall'. An ethereal presence, haunting the corridors and ramparts, a spirit adrift in her own thoughts, her dreams unfulfilled and stretching endlessly before her. 

But to your astonishment, your father never sanctioned any betrothals. Representatives from Yronwood, Blackmont, and Uller came and went, each departing without a pledge from the enigmatic ghost of Starfall. You refrained from asking why, harboring a fear that your inquiry might prompt your father to reconsider, possibly sending you away from your beloved star-gazing haven to the austere castles of Uller or the strict Yronwood. 

After your father's latest refusal of a suitor — a young, landed knight from the Reach, his brown curls soft and eyes a mesmerizing blend of green flecked with gold — you looked at your father, filled with uncertainty. “He seemed kind father.” you softly whispered. You could imagine yourself marrying this man, with long lazy days spent gazing into his warm eyes.  In response, your father rose from his starry throne and approached you, placing a gentle kiss on your brow. "My little star deserves more than a mere knight," he said softly. "I will find you a suitor worthy of the starry heavens, my sweet love." After this declaration, suitors ceased to arrive. 

Until this morning. 

In the dim pre-dawn light, your mother gently roused you, her movements quiet in the stillness before the castle stirred to life. With tender hands, she dressed you, her fingers weaving your hair into an intricate half-up updo, the lower strands cascading in soft curls. Her touch was soothing, almost melodic, as she adorned you in a gown of white and purple samite. Its gauzy sleeves fluttered ethereally, transforming you into the very ghost of legend whispered in the halls of Starfall. 

"Is it time?" you asked, a hint of apprehension in your voice, as she fastened a necklace around your neck, its purple stone shaped like a star glimmering softly. 

In lieu of a direct answer, she pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips whispering a silent prayer. "Come, my sweet girl," she murmured softly into your hair. "Today, you must be strong." Hand in hand, she led you towards your father’s personal solar, each step resonating into the stillness of the morning.  

As you and your mother stepped into the solar, a sense of confusion washed over you. Before you, your father and Prince Qoren Martell stood in hushed, intense discussion, surrounded by a sea of scattered papers. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they failed to notice your entrance, prompting a deliberate cough from your mother. 

"Ahem," she cleared her throat pointedly, breaking their focus. 

The two men spun around, their expressions shifting from concentration to surprise. Your mother regarded them with a mildly unimpressed gaze, her poise unshakable. 

"My lords, a touch of gallantry, if you please," she chided lightly, gesturing towards you. 

As their eyes found you, you executed a graceful curtsy, the fabric of your gown whispering against the floor. Prince Qoren's face broke into a broad smile at the sight. 

"No need for such formality, my dear," he chuckled warmly. "Look at you, outshining the stars themselves! Fortunately, you've inherited your mother's beauty and not your father's," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth. 

A blush crept across your cheeks at his words. "Thank you, Prince Qoren," you replied shyly, "Your flattery is most kind." 

"It's not flattery if it's the truth, my dear," Prince Qoren Martell retorted with a playful wink. A heavy silence then descended upon the room, enveloping your parents and your distinguished guest, the great prince of the lands you called home. You felt like an unwitting participant in a jest whose punchline you didn't know, the unwitting fool in an unspoken joke. Yet, no laughter broke the silence. Compelled by your uneasy curiosity, you posed the question that hung unspoken in the air. 

"The journey from Sunspear must have been arduous, my Prince. We are honored by your visit," you began, your voice steady. "May I inquire as to the urgency of your need for me this early, and why the esteemed Prince of Dorne would grace us with his presence?" 

"Your wit matches your beauty, Lady," Prince Qoren replied with a sincere smile. "I've traveled from my home to discuss a certain missive, one that concerns both your father, yourself and the future of Dorne." 

"I gather this missive must be of great import to summon me before even the servants begin their day," you ventured, a hint of steel in your voice. "It seems a matter of secrecy." 

"Indeed, my daughter," your father interjected. "We've received a proposal regarding your hand in marriage." 

"And who might this suitor be, that his proposal warrants Prince Qoren's personal involvement?" you asked, your eyebrow arching with skepticism. 

"As your father's dear friend and as someone who has always taken a keen interest in your future, my Lady, all of Dorne has its eyes on you," the prince answered, meeting your gaze. 

Your skepticism remained. "So much so that it necessitates a journey from Sunspear?" 

Your mother, sensing the rising tension, interjected softly, "Come, sit with us, my dear." As you took your seat, your father tenderly grasped your hands, planting a soft kiss upon your knuckles. "The Dragons have expressed interest in you," he revealed, his voice laced with a mixture of pride and concern. 

Your breath hitched at the mention of 'Dragons.' There was only one house in all of Westeros and beyond that was associated with the winged fire breathing beasts. Starfall knew more than anyone else the dangers of their fire and of their wrath. 

Prince Qoren clarified, "This request likely originated from Otto Hightower. Our spies from the capital suggest the Greens are maneuvering for the throne. With old Viserys nearing his end, they're placing their pieces on the cyvasse board. Hightower may be a contemptible leech, but his cunning is undeniable." He stroked his dark beard thoughtfully 

But why would Otto Hightower want me?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of confusion and urgency. "Dorne isn't even part of their kingdom! We've aligned with the Triarchy and have been opposing the dragons since their arrival on our shores." The plea in your voice was evident as you looked over your parents and your prince, who stood unmoving yet deep in thoughts.  

"That is precisely why Otto Hightower is interested – not just in you, but in Dorne," Qoren Martell explained gravely, looking into your eyes. "We Dornish have a history of standing against dragons. We've never bowed, broken, or bent the knee. We know how to fight them, and we know hot to kill them. Now, Hightower wants our alliance to counter Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's claim when they make their move for the throne." 

"But is Princess Rhaenyra not the legitimate heir? By Dornish law, she should be the future queen. If we were to engage in their politics, should we not we support the Blacks?" you questioned.   

"We might have aligned with Princess Rhaenyra," Qoren admitted with a hint of regret, "if not for her union with Daemon Targaryen. Remember the Stepstones? That debacle alone shows why it's dangerous for Daemon to wield any real power. He's not just a rogue; he's a warmonger." 

Qoren paused, weighing his words carefully. "Should Rhaenyra ascend the throne, Daemon would be right there, whispering in her ear. And let us be frank, he'd relish any excuse to launch an assault on Dorne, trying to conquer what Aegon the Conqueror couldn't. Whether it's for personal glory or just to satisfy his lust for war, it's a risk we cannot afford." 

A shudder ran through you at the thought of Dorne, bloodied and broken. Determined to prevent such a fate for your people, you asked in a subdued tone, "What is expected of me?" 

"Oh, my sweet girl," your mother murmured, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. "You are not obliged to do anything. If you wish, we will send Otto Hightower away with a message to shove his seven-pointed star straight up his arse, and we will stand against Daemon Targaryen if need be." she tearfully proclaim, her face in your hair.  

"You won't be forced into anything you're not willing to embrace. As for Otto Hightower, trust isn't a luxury I afford him as my experience with this man has taught me to be wary of his machinations. He is adept at playing the long game, and his latest maneuver is quite telling. By extending this proposal to your father and deliberately excluding me, he seeks to sow seeds of discord, perhaps hoping to weaken the unity that has long been our strength.His intentions, I surmise, are to draw you into the Hightower fold through marriage. Such a union could potentially sway Dorne's allegiance in the looming conflict for the Iron Throne."  

Pausing, Qoren looked out the window, then back at you with a solemn expression. "This is not merely a question of matrimony. It is a strategic move and our response will shape the future, not just for us, but for all of Dorne." 

You furrowed your brow in contemplation. "Why would we even entertain his proposal if his intent is to divide us?" you questioned. 

Prince Qoren's expression turned shrewd, cunning playing in his dark brown eyes"Precisely because we understand his motives. By accepting his offer on our terms, we control the game. It's like holding all the key pieces in cyvasse; we dictate the moves, and we can make the dragons dance to our tune." 

Your mind whirled, grappling with the enormity of everything they were telling you.  

"Consider carefully, my little star," your father said, "This decision rests in your hands. Whatever path you choose, know that we stand with you." 

"If I agree, may I set my own terms?" you asked softly.  

"Of course, my Lady," Qoren grants. 

"Accept Otto Hightower’s offer of marriage, tell him that we will aid him in his future conflict against Daemon Targaryen and the Blacks, but it comes with a non-negotiable stipulation: Dorne's independence is sacrosanct. We shall not yield to Targaryen sovereignty. Instead, we shall stand as allies, lending our support whilst retaining our autonomy. This, of course, hinges on your approval, Prince Qoren." 

Your mother's face registered shock. "But that would mean you'd be separating from Dorne, becoming part of their realm, no longer ours." 

“If it spares Dorne from being shackled by dragons, then I am willing to pay that price," you declared, feeling a shiver trace its way down your spine. With those words, you realized all that you were giving up. No longer would you be a daughter of Dorne; gone would be the nights spent stargazing from the ramparts, where stars seemed close enough to touch. You would miss the long walks on the ancient, stony steps, each one etched from the history of your ancestors. 

Gone, too, would be the fierce embrace of the desert sun in the mornings, its rays painting the sands in hues of gold and amber. You would yearn for the sweet scent of orange blossoms, a fragrance that always seemed to hold the very essence of your homeland. Instead, you would find yourself in the capital, and it would be there, in a place far from the lands that shaped you, that you would remain until the end of your days. 

My brave girl, stronger than any man in this land. A true Nymeria reborn," your mother said, her voice tinged with pride and sorrow. 

You mustered a smile, though it tasted bitter on your lips. "Nymeria was never bartered to a man she did not know. She carved her own destiny, fiercely and freely." 

"My girl..." your mother began, but you cut her off gently. 

"It's alright, Mother. I will fulfill my role to the end," you assured her, your voice steady, but your inside twisted uncomfortably. Who were you trying to convince, her or yourself? Your mother's breath hitched at your words, she closed her eyes holding you closer as if you would become a babe again, clutching at her skirts – not nearly a woman grown, ready to be delivered into the claws of the enemy.  

"Rest assured," your father added sternly, "If the dragons dare mistreat you, we will not shy away from invoking Joffrey Dayne's legacy and we will burn their city like their cursed beasts!” 

A pause hung in the air before you finally asked, "Who is it that Otto Hightower has in mind for me to marry?" 

"The King's second son, Prince Aemond Targaryen... the one-eyed prince.” 

Next chapter

#fanfic #fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond x oc #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #dance of the dragons #house of the dragon aemond #aegon ii targaryen #heleana targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower

[endlessnightlock]

I began a story for the This Would Have Happened Anyway Challenge but didn't get it done in time to submit it. So I wrote a little more, and maybe you would call this a drabble? I don't know. I'm posting it here because it's a drop of water in my personal writing desert.

In Panem, canon-divergent. Everlark married instead of Quarter Quell Reaping.

"Are you coming downstairs soon?" 

Katniss is standing outside our bedroom door, watching me, her hand pressed to the frame, half in, half out. I was startled at her voice, unaware of her presence, and she smiled at the reaction. We've only been married and living together for a few weeks, and it's reassuring she knows me so well. It makes me feel better about our situation. 

I wasn't startled because it was Katniss there, catching me off guard—it was a knee-jerk reaction. I tend to get lost inside my head and zone out, and after years of Mother's insults (are you stupid? Why didn't you answer me?) slung my way like daggers, defense is my natural response. 

Licking her lips, she shrugs. "Your brother is here."

Ah. Now I know precisely why Katniss sought me out. At the ridiculous wedding reception thrown for us by President Snow, Rye pulled me aside to tell me he was planning to come by once we had a few days to settle in. Bring over some of my things from the bakery and a few things our parents want me to have now that I am a married man. Or a forcibly wed, frightened seventeen-year-old. You know, whichever way you choose to look at it. I digress. Katniss and I didn't choose this route. But I love her; she cares for me, and we're keeping our families safe. 

Back to Rye. He and I discussed it moments before our families left to catch the train back to Twelve—because even a victor's relations are limited on time they're allowed outside the District. This conversation was weeks ago, and I forgot about it. The memory lapse isn't like me, but I think it can be forgiven, considering how difficult it is to breathe under President Snow's intense scrutiny. I don't know how we'll spend the rest of our lives under his thumb. Who knows. Maybe we won't live long enough to find out. 

"Oh. Okay," I say. My eyes flit from Katniss's profile to the sketchbook in my lap. I feel like I need to collect my thoughts before seeing my brother. "Would you tell him I'll be down in a few minutes?" I venture. It's more a question than an answer.

She frowns. That's her answer: a firm no, Peeta. I won't hang out alone with your brother while you keep drawing. "Do you want me to send him up?" she suggests—more of a threat than a question.

"No, just give me a minute," I say, carefully closing up and laying my sketchbook on the side table before sliding off the mattress. I don't want to be cornered by my brother in our bedroom. Rye's itching to badger me with questions I sure as hell don't have any answers to.

She groans, and I laugh under my breath. If we were close enough, she'd pinch my side or smack my arm for finding humor in her misery. My family is standoffish with Katniss, and her response is in kind. "I'll wait for you," she says. 

Of course, she will. I'm like a security blanket for her.

"Well, don't just stand there gawking at me from the doorway," I say, bending over and grabbing yesterday's pants off the floor. I should have been up and around hours ago, but last night was horrible, and it took forever to fall asleep. 

"Fine," she says, stepping inside the room and pulling the door mostly shut behind her, keeping her eyes averted until I buckle my pants over my undershorts and put on a clean shirt. I raise my eyebrows in amusement. 

We're still dancing around each other. Not used to these close quarters. Sharing the same bedroom, sleeping in the same bed. Dressing in front of each other. Maybe I should make an effort to cover up more. I don't know. Being in my underclothes doesn't bother her when we go to bed. We curl around each other, seeking solace in each other's arms, keeping the darkness at bay. It's not the blackness of the night but rather those dark thoughts invading our minds like wind in the trees. Unpredictable, tangible.

"You don't have to look away. I don't mind if you see me," I remind her.

"Yeah, yeah. We've had this conversation before." 

That makes me smile.

"Are you going to yammer on or go into the bathroom and brush your teeth?"

Playfully, I cup my hands in front of my mouth and blow air into them. "Hmmm. Maybe I should leave them be. My morning breath might be enough to keep Rye from showing up here unannounced."

Katniss rolls her eyes. "I doubt that. Boys are gross."

She's not wrong. I've smelled much worse than Rye's bad breath living at home with my family. When we were still in wrestling, he'd pin me to the floor, squat over my head, and fart in my face. I shudder at the memory.

"What?" she asks.

I wave her question off. "Believe me. You don't want to know. You could go ahead and head downstairs—I'll only be a minute, I promise."

"Uh, no. I'll wait for you."

#everlark drabble #endlessnightlock writes #katniss everdeen/peeta mellark

[prettyplumbobs]

Generation One: Base Game

⭐ Founder: Sylvie Sterling

Sylvie Sterling hailing from Belladonna Cove, is captivated by the power of words and art. Growing up, she devoured books and immersed herself in creative pursuits, finding solace and inspiration in their depths. Her fascination with storytelling led her to dream of becoming a journalist, where she could give voice to the voiceless and shine a light on the untold stories of her world. Sylvie sees journalism as a platform for change, a means to challenge injustices and spark meaningful conversations. Driven by her unwavering belief in the transformative power of words, she embarks on her journey with determination, eager to make a difference in the lives of others through her writing.

🛤️ Career Path: Bring me pictures of Llamaman! - Journalism

🎖️ LTW: Star News Anchor

🎯 Objectives:

Have the Bookworm and/or Artistic trait +0.5 point

Join the book club +0.5 point

Join Journalism Career +0.5 point

Take the Writing Skill Class +0.5

Reach the top of the Journalist Career +1 point

Master Writing Skill +1 point

Write 10 articles/books +1 point

Get $5,000 in royalties +1 point

Marry fellow worker or boss +1 point

Partner in a business/or community lot +1 point

Complete the LTW 'Professional Author' +1 point

Complete the LTW 'Star News Anchor' +1 point

🌟 Bonus Points:

Woohoo service sim +1 point

Have a child with service sim +1 point

Marry service sim +1 point

Get child with hidden trait +1 point

Resurrect sim (Create Ambrosia) OR create playable ghost +1 point

Have a ghost baby (have many ghost babies even. With all them ghost colors) +1 point

💰Gain/❌Lose Points:

Sim choosing a different career to that allocated to generation: -10 point

Sim not completing their LTW: -2 points.

Not achieving a generation objective: -0.5 point

Receiving a random trait upon age up -0.5 point

Heir getting a D in school - 0.5 point

Heir getting fired from their job - 2 points

Heir topping career: +4 points

Heir topping part-time career as a teen: +1 point

Heir getting an A in school as a teen. +0.5 point

Heir completing their LTW: +5 points

Heir Mastered a non-required skill +1 point

Heir completes a Skill Challenge +1 point

Heir having more than two children: +1 points per child

Have every unique gnome on the legacy lot at once +1 point

Have a family cemetary on lot +1 point

For every Heir buried there +1 point

🙏 special thanks to @simspaghetti because her lepacy truly inspires me!! 💕rules were created by @horusmenhosetix, you can find the rules here 📜

#Sylvie Sterling #Sims3 #Sterling Lepacy #Sterling1 #hixcompletionistchallenge #ts3

[meshlasolus]

What Once Was Mine

Chapter 11

Summary: Locked away in a house her entire life, she always dreamed of exploring the nearby kingdom for just a day, believing it could make the rest of her days in solitude bearable. What she was unaware of, was the real reason she’d been hidden away for so long. Changes comes swift like a flying dagger when a thieving bounty hunter seeks solace in the old home.

Din Djarin Royalty!AU / Tangled!AU

Pairing: Din Djarin x Princess Kryze!Reader

A/n: okay so there’s one more part after this one and then I’ll just probably start posting a series that’s like half finished but its in my drafts… and alsos the indy fic

Warnings: oh boy kinda a lot… mentions of death, having beatings take place, several scenes with blood… there’s a mention of beheading… sadness and depression idk. Uncomfortable situations fr… imprisonment and degradation again bc why not

Bo Katan sat on the stool across from you, watching with both anxiety and pride as you were being fitted with a traditional suit of Mandalorian beskar armor.

“You wear it well,” she commented, seeing the look on your face as you held the helmet in your hands. It matched the chest plate and the pauldrons in which were being placed upon each shoulder. They both carried the signet of the blue owl, and the etchings looked as though they had been carved ages ago. “I know you won’t disgrace it the way I have.”

You turned to her with sad eyes. She regrets the day she lost to Gideon, all but throwing the fight and losing everything she had in only a moment. She yielded, and that’s what everyone knew, but little did they know the cause as to why. She was a strong fighter, she would not have lost it had it not been for a certain someone.

“You did the best you could have done,” you assumed, trying to give an encouraging smile, though your nerves made the corner of your lip twitch in an awkward way.

“No, I didn’t. I gave in,” she paused, heaving a sigh and shaking off the wave of memories. “Gideon challenged me when I was only sixteen. I felt I was unready to be queen, so I faltered and let him win.”

“What?”

The surprise in your tone matched the wide eyed stare you wore on your face, the gears in your head working overtime to try and process why she might have done such a thing.

“There were things expected of me, and I wasn’t ready to commit to them… I once had a love like yours, but being queen meant I would be forced to give it up.” Her brows furrowed as she spoke of the past, an inkling in her mind wanted her to share it with you, but she was unsure if she was a good idea. You already had enough pressure on your shoulders.

“Bo,” you wanted her to feel your sympathy, to know that with your love’s life on the line, you could partially understand her feelings.

“After I lost the fight, that love was taken from me anyway. The King made fast enemies in the land, and drafted an entire army to rid him of all the people that stood in the way of his rule. The man I intended to marry was killed and I was powerless to stop it.”

“I’m sorry…” you trailed off, remaining silent for a few moments until you caught sight of yourself in the reflection of another chest plate hanging on the wall. You looked mighty and strong. “Gideon will be defeated, I promise. I will finish what you started.”

“I shall hope with everything in me that your strength will not falter in battle. I know you will do right by your hunter,” she nodded, taking the helmet from your hands and placing it atop your head. The metal felt warm around you, but the T shaped opening in the front gave you a sense of exact focus. As long as your eyes remained on Gideon, you would be set in your mission to kill him.

You’d never killed anyone before, and growing up you swore you never would, knowing the brutality of your powers was exactly why you were hidden away… you always said that violence was not your way, but this man had cheated you, lied to you and publicly humiliated you on more than one front. If all of that was not bad enough, the way he’d treated Din topped it all. The blood that had stained the edges of your beautiful green sleeves the night prior, it was thick and dark. Just like it had been when he crossed paths with death before. Your kidnapper who had tried to kill him was child’s play compared to the enemy you now faced. He held the power of the kingdom in his hands, and you needed to physically destroy him in order to stop him.

Din’s sentencing to death was paused temporarily, for the duel of rulers would take priority over the hanging of a single criminal. You only hoped he was alright, being stuck in a cage where he didn’t belong. He was like a bird with clipped wings, unable to fly or flourish or do anything in the confines of his small cell.

It was only a matter of time before you set him free, and that was what you kept your mind on as you prepared to meet your opponent.

-

You’d been given a sword and shield to battle with, though they were heavy and you didn’t really need them. You’d gone over the rules with Bo Katan several times, and every time there had not been a rule against using ones magical powers… none else ever living in Mandalore seemingly possessed them.

You’d been standing in a room, overhearing the crowd shouting in the arena outside. The horseback ride on the way to said location was short, barely outside of the castle walls, but it gave you too much time to think about how things might possibly go wrong. You were stronger than him by far, and your motivation to fight was growing even now, but a small yet powerful voice in your head told you it was going to end poorly. You could lose your footing or get distracted. If you let your guard down even once, it would be over.

The door opening stopped your intrusive thoughts from rampaging, but the face on the other side made your skin crawl.

“What are you doing here?”

King Gideon chuckled darkly before entering the room. He was alone, but that didn’t make him any less of a threat at the moment. You couldn’t touch a hair on his head before the canon sounded, but anything he said or did now could easily take your mindset and make it even worse.

“If you’d care to take a quick stroll, I think there’s something you should see,” he spoke heavy, a smirk rising to his cheeks. He held his hand out towards the doorway, and you knew that he wouldn’t leave until you followed along with his charade, so you passed him and walked through the door. You noticed that with all your armor and thick sole boots, you were almost as large in frame as he was. It made you feel stronger in some way.

“Make it quick,” you turned to him, not allowing a hint of emotion to show through your voice. You wouldn’t let him have anything on you, not one show of anger or even a clenched fist to show he’d caused it.

His steps were mockingly slow from there, but it didn’t take long before he reached a staircase. He gestured for you to go first, and you did, climbing up what you counted to be three flights before there was another door. You looked back to the King, and he nodded, so you entered. You appeared to be on the top level of the arena, overlooking the kingdom. Three stories up, and you wondered if he’d perhaps dragged you up here to push you off. He was still King, and if he had, he’d be the ruler nonetheless, even if it was a cowardly move, he could still do it.

“If you’d care to sight see with me, I believe you’ll find a particular scene down there to your interest.”

You shifted your eyes over the ledge, and froze to your place.

Your small green child was held in a cage meant for a bird, his coos and cries for help being ignored by the palace guards keeping watch. On the ground beside him was Din, curling in on himself as three men beat him to a pulp. They kicked and yelled at him, watching in fake pity as he tried his best to fight back. He was in no condition to fight in the first place, nor was he strong enough after not being fed for two days.

“Stop them,” you turned to Gideon, your fiery gaze burning through his exterior for a moment, as he almost looked afraid. You still carried the sword made of Mandalorian iron, an impenetrable metal that could cut him down where he stood. He took a step back and immediately felt the power shift. This could still work to his advantage. “Stop them, now!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve given my last orders as King before the duel, and as per tradition, my rule will be ceased until it is over,” he raised his hands, as if this was not his plan all along, to lure you here and allow you to see with your own eyes the man you loved being beaten to death. “I do hope for your sake he lives until the battle, for then you have a chance to save him.”

You weren’t going to let this happen. Everything you did was to protect the ones you love, and now they were being held against their will, one of them being tortured on your behalf, simply because the King couldn’t touch you, yet.

At this very point you didn’t care about the rules, only that an end was put to this man. A man who so viscously would steal from you everything you had for the reason of revenge. You drew your sword from the sheath at your hip, swinging it over your head and straight at him. But this was what he wanted, and he’d been prepared. He ignited the Dark Saber and blocked your strike, counter attacking and hitting your vambrace, which burned like fire. You retreated for only a second before again throwing the blade towards his body, which was deflected for a second time by his glowing weapon. It turned the metal of the sword red with heat, and not even a moment later, the sword was hit away from your hands by another rough strike.

Gideon stared you down, the saber inches away from your neck. You could feel the warmth emanating from where it was held, and tried your best to stay still. Even a flinch could end your life.

“Save it for the arena,” he said smugly before disengaging his weapon and handing yours back to you. You took it quickly, and turned to leave. If there was still time, you could tell Bo about the guards behind the building. She was a skilled fighter, perhaps she could stop them from killing Din until the fight was over.

As soon as you reached the bottom of the stairs, you’d been pulled by the arm.

“Where were you? It’s less than two minutes until the canon is lit,” Mayfeld seemed stressed, like he’d been looking for you for ages. Truth be told, you weren’t supposed to leave the room they put you in until it was time, so already you’d gotten them on the tips of their toes.

“Mayfeld, you have to listen to me,” you tried to make him stop walking, to slow down at least so the words could come out while he was paying attention.

“It’ll have to wait until after the fight. You’re supposed to be out there already,” he kept on, practically dragging you with him until you reached a chain drawn entrance, the wooden slab being lowered to the ground.

“No, you don’t understand he’s-“

“You’re going to be fine, just remember what Bo said.”

And with that, you were shoved into the arena. You turned towards the center of it, hearing the people of the land cheering. You stood in fear of the events around you, seeing as though you had been thrust into the middle with no where to go. There was only one way out, and that was the death of Gideon, the faux King of Mandalore.

You looked to the other side of the arena, and sure enough… the second wooden slab was lowered until it hit the dirt, and behind it stood your opponent. His stance was wide, and it angered you to see how arrogantly he strolled in. His weapon was activated, and he dragged it next to him in the dirt, creating small fits of dust to fly in the air behind his steps.

He stopped about ten feet away from you, pointing to the top of the arena where you both were just standing only minutes ago. The canon had been raised, and the fuse had been lit, the flame getting closer and closer until the loud boom was heard, echoing through the sky.

You held your weapon steady, making sure your helmet was secure before charging him. You struck first, making contact with his saber, while he quickly rebuttals against you. You were fired up, and so was he. The crowd was only background noise as this feud ending battle commenced.

-

Bo had been made aware of the hunter’s disappearance from his cell. She snuck in that morning to try and get him into a safer location until after the fight, but found that he’d been removed, the cell at the end of the block being completely empty when she went in. She hadn’t however found him in time to prevent the horrendous beatings he’d received. At the sound of the canon, she left her place on the ground level of the arena, going outside to inspect the guards that had been rotating to a discreet location.

When she saw the hunter on the ground, covered in his own blood, she leapt into action immediately. She pulled the knives from her boots and threw them straight forward, killing out the only guards who had been armed. They dropped to the ground before her as the other three stopped their attack on Din to focus on her. She was a threat by all means, and they remember the fight she put up at her young age of sixteen. Now, it was likely she could kill a man with her bare hands.

“Who’s first?” She quipped, stepping in front of Din and tilting her head to the one in the center. He looked as if he was waiting to get a piece of her, and was all too confident he would be able to. “You.”

Just as anticipated, he ran towards her, arms flailing about and voice ringing out a battle cry. He was all bark, unfortunately, as she caught him before he made contact, gripping under his shoulder and twisting just right until his shoulder was out of socket. She grabbed his neck and bashed his head over her knee and he went down to the ground, writhing in pain and out of his clear consciousness as the next man charged after her. She kicked out in front of her this time, letting his weight carry him backwards, all she had to do then was land a hard sock on his jaw and he collapsed over top of the last one. The man left standing was not in any hurry to rush her, but he’d been waiting, watching strategically until the others were out of the way. He would wait for her to make the first move, he was the smart one.

She had come to the conclusion he would wait for her, so she turned to Din, seeing that he’d started to pick himself up, and gave him an order. “Take the child, and go.”

He was barely able to hold himself at a seating position, but he gave a nod, beginning to drag himself towards the bird cage sat in the corner atop a barrel.

Bo faced the man head on, taking one step, two, three, and then one more. She struck him hard in the shoulder, and he stumbled back, but didn’t fall. He came back at her with force, blocking her attempt at a kick and using her leg as momentum to send her into the wall. Her back hit the concrete hard, and she nearly lost the air from her lungs, but she wasn’t finished. He came closer, and she feigned lack of awareness long enough to get him right in front of her. From there she let the knee jerk upwards, kicking him between the legs and hearing him groan. He didn’t back off like she’d hoped, and grabbed her fists, holding her to the wall. He used his own knee as a way to mock her, jabbing into her stomach several times until she felt sick. She tried to bend over in hopes it would soothe the pain, but he grabbed her throat, pushing her against the wall once more and looking her straight in the eye.

“You’re weak now, just like you were then.”

And suddenly, the pressure on her throat was gone. The man in front of her stood still, his features becoming like ice, and then he fell to the ground. Bo took in a deep breath, leaning over like she’d intended to earlier. She saw the arrow that had pierced the back of the man before her, and looked up to see Mayfeld rushing to her aid while holding a cross bow. She had never been so grateful to see him.

“Are you alright?” He gave her a hand and helped her to stand straight, looking her over for any additional injuries.

“I’m fine,” she told him, squeezing his hand lightly to assure him what she said was true. “How’s the fight?”

“Bad… she’s losing.”

The last thing Mayfeld saw before coming to find Bo was you getting knocked down, unable to get up for the way Gideon stepped on your chest plate.

Bo looked to the end of the alley, seeing Din holding the child and barely beginning to hobble away. He used the wall to lean against, but she knew they could help him easier. She knew what they needed to do in order for the fight to be turned around.

“She needs to see him,” she muttered, taking steps towards the man as he barely turned the corner. “Hunter..”

He turned as quickly as he could, careful not to drop the kid in the process of doing so.

“Come with me,” she took the child from his hands, handing him off to Mayfeld who followed her over. “Can you walk?”

He tried to push himself away from the wall and take a step, but he nearly fell to his knees. His grunts of pain when Bo caught him meant he was injured to the point of being bed ridden. She hauled him back up, tossing his arm over her shoulder, and began to strong arm him towards the gate of the arena. Hoping that if she could just get him into your view, it would change the ending of this battle.

He groaned with every step they took, but didn’t complain, and kept on towards the entrance, hearing the loud echoes of cheers whilst the competitors fought to the death. He looked down the tunnel, and saw something he hoped he’d never see.

You were on the ground, back against the dirt, while Gideon knelt over top of you. His saber was so close to your face, you felt as if you might catch on fire. Your sword was the only thing standing in the way of your fast approaching death, and you knew you had nothing left in you. You would die at the hands of an evil man, one who may have killed the ones you love, one who abuses his power, and the people he’s supposed to care for.

You looked into his eyes, your scared expression was evident, and he reveled in it. To see the fear in your eyes before he killed you, it felt too good to be true. Everything he’d said and done before this fight was the reason it was going the way it had. You couldn’t focus your power enough to use it, and every time you tried, it only backfired on a worse attack towards you.

“You were my biggest foe, princess, a worthy opponent. I will remember you during the rest of my rule,” he leaned in closer, forcing his blade so close it singed the hair that had been sticking out of it’s binds. You’d lost your helmet about thirty seconds into the battle, and nothing was stopping him from running you through to the ground.

You closed your eyes, ready to except your fate…

“Mesh’la,” the whisper was not even heard aloud, but in your mind. Whatever power you still possessed in you was willing you to hear his words, spoken under his breath and practically into the void.

You opened your eyes, turning your head to catch the sight. The tunnel was opened, and hanging onto Bo Katan was your hunter, the one this was all about. He looked bruised and bloody, but he was here, and he was alive. Standing behind him was Mayfeld, who cautiously held onto your small green child, the one you’d been in companionship with for so long, now. They were both here, and you weren’t going to let them watch you get killed, not at the hands of this man.

Din wasn’t sure how, but he knew you had heard him.

You gathered all the strength in your body and pulled your legs in, kicking his body off of you and back several feet. He was quickly steadied again, as were you, but your stare was no longer afraid, it was determined. This was the gaze he’d been so frightened of before.

You lunged for him, swinging over your head and across your body, hitting his saber multiple times before he tripped and fell back on the ground. You used your power to pull the Dark Saber from his hands and into your own. He barely made it to his knees before you were stood over him, both blades crossed by his throat, waiting to behead him.

He looked up to you, speechless as to how you were able to accomplish this feat. He had always been arrogant, but pride comes before a fall, and his knees could attest to that.

“Last words?”

He swallowed in a shaky manner. Let it not be said that he would die with words unspoken… he’d rather not die at all.

“Allow me to make a deal on my surrender,” he pleaded, begging for the same chance he’d given Bo Katan all those years ago. He may have spared her life, but you weren’t thinking of being so kind in return. Of all the things he’d done, he deserved to die on this field.

You stood still for a moment, and pondered what your terms of a deal may be.

“I offer you two more days, of which you will be beaten until you cannot stand, and starved from any sustenance you may require… sundown on the second day you will be executed,” you stopped for a moment to see the look on his face become even more grim. The man was a shell of himself, and of that you were proud. “Death by hangman’s noose.”

It was comical, really. Two more days to live out the torture he’d put Din through, only to die anyways, in the same way he’d meant for Din to die. He was not going to be permitted to live, because even behind closed bars, he was dangerous… you also knew he would never accept the deal.

“If you will only mock me, do away with me, now.”

The famous last words of King Gideon the ruthless.

The blades crossed each other and slid with ease, ridding the world of the man who ruled this land with tyranny. You’d never killed anyone in your life, but this didn’t feel wrong, it felt empowering. You’d slain the enemy, just as the knights in your stories would slay dragons and viscous beasts that scoured the land.

You heard the crowd erupt once more, and a loud announcement, but you paid no mind to it. You began to run, your slight limp carrying you to the tunnel with which your hunter was waiting. He fell into your arms as Bo let go of his form, and though your strength was again wavering, you held him close as if he were the most important thing in the world. You were too worn to heal him for now, and you might be for a day or two, but you could spend that time taking care of him in other ways, simply being by his side and making sure he was there with you.

-

The light peering in through the window of the Queen’s suite was only bright enough to make a small beam that reflected onto the ground. It was early morning, but the sun rose earlier here than it did in other parts of the kingdom. The castle always saw the first light.

Din shifted uncomfortably in bed, his shoulders still being the sorest part of him. He was rather broad, like the west mountains that separated Mandalore from the hillside people of Nog. He was broad and strong, but he felt he was anything else at the moment. He tried to sit up, but a pain shot through him and he groaned.

That’s when he saw you, rushing to his aid from a lounge seat that you’d undoubtedly been sleeping on through the night. You gently grabbed his upper arm, trying to get him to lay back down.

“Easy, big guy,” you knew he was probably confused as to where he was, since he’d practically passed out on the horse ride back to the castle, and required major help in getting to your chambers. Everyone insisted he go back to his own, that others could care for him easily there, but you weren’t about to let him out of your sight as long as you could help it. You were a good care taker, yet only one could ever attest to that, and he didn’t talk. “You shouldn’t be up.”

“Did you sleep on the chair?” He responded almost immediately, though it was not what you were thinking he’d say. It was very much like him to be falling apart and in need of constant care, yet being too concerned for your own being to obey your directions. He sat straight up, looking to you for an answer.

“Yes, I wanted to be close to you.”

He furrowed his brow and reached out for you. It hurt the muscles in his body to do so, but he grabbed your hand anyways.

“Could have slept with me, Mesh’la,” he whispered just loud enough to hear, bringing your hand to his mouth for a kiss. You smiled at the gesture but shook your head.

“The physician told me you were not to be disturbed,” you sat down next to him, allowing yourself to disturb him only a little for the sake of your comfort, and the need to feel him beside you. “Everything that happened yesterday, and the day before… it’s almost impossible that you were able to make it out alive.”

“If your plan was to get rid of me, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

Your soft chuckle was music to his ears, as he’d not heard it in days, and thinking about it was one of the only things keeping him on his feet whilst all he wanted to do was fall. You gripped his hand that was holding yours, squeezing it once before letting go and beginning to get up.

“You should eat something,” you turned to him while pulling on a dressing robe, much thicker than the one you were used to. It would keep you warm until the sun had fully risen, as parts of the castle were freezing in the early morning. “I’ll be back.”

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, just as you had done a few nights prior. That night had been so beautiful, it only made sense that Gideon would have ruined it… but now he was gone for good, and no one would ever be disgraced by him again. You looked back to Din and saw the fave h was giving you. “Please.”

You were a victim of those brown eyes, you swore they’d be the death of you… and what a wonderful way to go. There was no way you’d ever deny him, not when he sat there on your bed, looking like the human personification of softness. You shrugged off your robe, laying it back over the chair it had been in earlier, and crossed the room to where he was sat. You threw up the sheets and blankets and crawled in beside him, laying down on the pillow and looking up at him.

He ran his fingers over the side of your face, tracing the outline of your cheek and jaw, finally reaching down to your neck. There was a burn scar forming there, not even an inch wide but evident enough to him.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered, thinking out loud. The words hit your ears and made you smile, which in turn spread a grin across his own face. He hadn’t kissed you since your shared dance on the cobblestones of the castle garden, and he felt he needed to. Leaning down the way he did should have hurt him tremendously, but something about the way your lips met his made all the pain subside. It was quick and gentle, but it sustained him.

You wished for more, but weren’t about to push your bounds, knowing he was definitely still in pain that he would never admit to.

He laid beside you and opened his arms for you to scoot in. It was very improper, for him to hold you this way and under the blankets of your own bed, but it was only you and him, and the door blocking you both from the outside world was not to be crossed by any means. Bo was taking care of everything in the Kingdom for now, as you’d asked her to do so until Din was on his feet. You were the Queen, now… though there was no official coronation, you were acting ruler of Mandalore. It would be a large responsibility, but you felt you were up to the task. Din knew this as well, for he saw the kindness of your heart and the goodness of your mind. All those years of innocence really shaped your outlook on the world, and you still beheld it with beauty. He only hoped that all the horrible things you’d been through wouldn’t give you a bitterness that may oppose your gentle spirit.

The sun kept rising, and the day began… but you and your hunter were tucked away from the busying kingdom, finding rest and comfort in each other after a trial of great proportions.

-

Tags: @i-ameri-cant@littlemisspascal@fanfics-toread@icanbeyourjedi@castleallherown@mysticalgalaxysalad @princess-prettyy @67impalagirl13@agingerindenial@childrenofthewatch@insomniac-nerd-posts-things@marjoherbo@juletheghoul-main@tiredbuthappy@themand0lorian@janebby@goldielocks2004@yuiopiklmn ​ @oh-no-who-am-i ​ @appleejuice ​ @luxmundee @belovedadam @seninjakitey ​@harriedandharassed @notsosecretspy

#din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x princess!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin royalty!au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller

[geralt-of-baevia]

Call It What You Want: Chapter Five

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

pairing: nooutbreak!joel x f!ofc (Violet Fletcher)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 3.1k

summary: Seeking solace from a painful breakup, Violet relocates to a tranquil town, purchasing a neglected house to renovate. In her new neighborhood, she befriends Harlow, who introduces her to Joel, a gruff and seasoned contractor with a heart of gold. Despite Joel's initial grumpiness, Violet finds herself drawn to his expertise and hidden kindness.

As Violet immerses herself in home renovations alongside Joel, their dynamic begins to shift, with Joel unexpectedly opening himself up to the possibility of love. Their budding relationship faces challenges as shadows from their pasts emerge, testing their newfound connection.

warnings/tags: hints at a daddy kink, groping, dry humping, grinding, etc.

a/n: alright, something FINALLY happens! yay! and oooo drama is staaaarting. i love it.

In the first week of our deal Joel and I were both very busy. I had made french dip, beef stroganoff and so many breakfasts and pastries. All while he had patched my deck, put up a new shower curtain, fixed part of my roof and fixed the air conditioning with his brother Tommy’s help. 

There was constant commotion at the house, but it was something I thrived on. It was nice to have something do do every day. To have a reason to get up and bake. I hadn’t done much of that since I had sold the bakery six months before. I didn’t realize how much I had missed it.  

I learned that breakfast was Joel’s favorite meal very quickly. Since we were both early birds, most mornings I had coffee and food ready to go when he got to the house. Friday morning I decided to make my favorite; biscuits and gravy. When Joel came through the kitchen door, I was just pulling the biscuits out of the oven.

“It smells amazin’ in here,” he said, setting his toolbelt down next to the door in a thud. “Whatcha making?”

“Biscuits and gravy.”

“Mmm, my favorite.”

A silly grin spread across my face. “It’s mine, too.”

Joel came over and made our cups of coffee while I plated our food. We took our breakfasts and headed out to the sun porch to eat. Earlier in the week Joel moved a couch and coffee table into the once empty room for us. It was such a nice place to sit and look outside and enjoy company. I loved our little routine.

“How is your arm feeling this morning?” he asked before shoveling a bite of food into his mouth. I could sense something was up with Joel by his body language, but I couldn’t tell if I was making it up or not. 

“It’s getting better. I’ve been doing my exercises and stretches that the doctor recommended. And I haven’t had to take a pain pill in at least three days,” I told him proudly. My forehead was healing nicely, too, it only needing a bandaid over the stitches.

“Well that’s very good to hear.”

As we ate our meals in silence, I could sense something was definitely making Joel apprehensive. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” I asked through a bite. 

“Hmm?” he asked, turning to face me. It was like I had snapped him back to reality. 

“Is everything okay, Joel? You’ve been acting kinda odd since we sat down to eat,” I explained. He sighed in response. 

“Everythin’s fine,” he stated. I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’ve just been meanin’ to ask you somethin’ since yesterday, but I couldn’t get the nerve up to last night. So I told myself this mornin’ on the way here that I was gonna ask ya.”

My heart began pattering in my chest.

“Well, just ask me then.”

“Um, I have a buddy from the school I work at that’s getting married this weekend,” he started, “and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

I gave him a coy smile. “Like as your date?”

“Yes, as my date,” he said, nudging his shoulder into mine. 

“How fancy are we talking?”

He paused. “...is that a yes, then?” 

I giggled. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”

He beamed at me, and his face softened with relief. It was adorable. 

“So, how fancy?” I asked again, “Like, do I get to see you in a tux or something?”

“No, not that fancy. But it’ll definitely be a dres nice for the occasion type of wedding.”

“When is it?” I asked before taking a drink of my coffee. 

“It’s tomorrow at 11am in the town over. I’d pick you up around 10:15. Is that okay?” he asked. 

I nodded. “That sounds great.”

The next morning I rushed around trying to get ready. I had decided to keep my hair and make up simple, but I was still nervous. Thankfully Harlow was coming as well, and Joel’s brother Tommy as her date. 

I looked myself over in the mirror, fiddling with my hair and smoothing my light pink dress over my thighs. I hadn’t been to a wedding in a long time. The next one was supposed to be my own, but that had obviously changed. 

At almost 10:15 on the dot, I heard Joel’s familiar knock at my door. After looking myself over once more, I ran downstairs. I opened the door, it revealing Joel looking as handsome as ever. He had on a green plaid shrit with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms, a pair of nice jeans and boots. His curly salt and pepper hair was combed back, and his facial hair freshly tidied. 

“You look so handsome,” I told him, the words falling out of my mouth before I could stop them. His face lit up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Um, well thank you,” he said timidly, his bashfulness coming out. “You look gorgeous.”

My cheeks grew hot and my eyes met the ground. 

“Thank you,” I told him, chewing nervously at my bottom lip, “It’s not too much?”

He shook his head, his brow knitting together. “Not at all. Are you ready to go?” 

“Yes, let me grab my bag.”

I grabbed my purse and my shoes and locked up the house. Joel and I got into his truck and pulled out of the driveway, off in the direction of the wedding. I threw my shoes and purse on the floor before turning in my seat to face him. I rested my back against the door and pulled my feet up to rest on the space between us, hugging my knees. 

“You comfortable?” he asked sarcastically. I pushed his thigh with my foot. “Hey! That’s my driving foot.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, dad.” 

His eyes snapped over to me at my comment, his eyes stern. It was a look that made the space between my thighs surge with heat. 

“So um,” I started, shifting in my seat a little, “How long have you known the couple getting married?” 

“I’ve known Bill and Frank for at least 20 years. We first met through an old friend,” he told me, taking his eyes off the road occasionally to look at me while he spoke. I nodded. I could tell there was apprehension in his voice. 

“...and?” I asked, knowing he had more to say. 

“...and they’re getting married because Frank is sick and they want to get married before he passes away,” he concluded. My heart dropped into my stomach. It was so bittersweet. 

“That’s - heartbreaking,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I heard him sniff, so I learned forward and put a comforting hand on his knee. “But it’ll also be beautiful.”

He looked over and me and gave me a have smile, his eyes brimming with tears. I gave his knee a squeeze before he took it in his own. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. I smiled. 

“Thank you for comin’ with me.”

“Of course.”

The wedding was absolutely beautiful. It wasn’t anything spectacular or over the top. Just a simple wedding in the backyard of Bill and Frank’s beautiful house. There was maybe only about 30 of us there in total, and not one of us had a dry eye by the end of it. I had packed tissues in my bag and I had never been so thankful I had done so. 

After the ceremony everyone mingled and ate finger food while Frank rested for awhile. I stood in a corner of the garden with Joel, his brother Tommy, Harlow and their friend Ellie, one of Harlow’s students. She had practically adopted Ellie, and hence so did Joel and Tommy. They were this little blended family that I couldn’t help but admire. 

“So, Violet?” Harlow started, pointing an accusing finger at me, “Joel told me the other day that you used to have a full ass bakery?”

“Mmhmm,” I said with a nod, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. I didn’t really want it getting out, but I also didn’t tell Joel not to say something. I couldn’t get upset at him. 

“Girl, I have known you for almost four months and you’ve never said anything about it to me? That’s a big deal!” she stated. I shrugged. 

“It just wasn’t a big deal to me at the time to talk about,” I said. Tommy smacked Harlow in the arm. 

“Did you ever think Harles that maybe she didn’t want to talk about it then?” he asked her, attitude dripping all over his words. She rolled her eyes. 

Harlow had been weird to me the entire time at the wedding, and now she was calling me out about something silly like this? I didn’t know what was up, but I didn’t want to worry about that right now. I just wanted to enjoy the wedding with Joel. Joel turned to me, blatantly ignoring the drama from his brother and Harlow. 

“Do you wanna go get a beer with me?” he asked. 

“Sure,” I said, giving Harlow a side glance. He slipped his arm around my middle and led me away from the group and over to the house. 

“Is it just me or is Harlow bein’ weird?” he asked, still looking ahead. I glanced up at him and sighed. 

“No, she’s being weird,” I confirmed. We went into the kitchen and Joel grabbed us each a beer from the large cooler by the sink. He opened both of them on the counter before handing me mine nonchalantly. 

“Did-did you just open those on the edge of the counter?” I asked, my jaw a little slack. He smirked at me as he took a swig from his beer and shrugged. 

“Maybe I did,” he said with a quick wink. The butterflies in my stomach awoke. 

Before either of us could say anymore, Bill wheeled Frank into the kitchen from the living room. Frank was looking much more rested than he had after the ceremony. 

“How ya feelin’, buddy?” Joel asked Frank. 

“Much better, thank you,” he said with a kind smile. He turned his eyes to me. “I didn’t get to meet you before the wedding. I’m Frank.”

He held a hand out to me and I closed the distance between us to shake it. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, I’m Violet,” I told him. His smiled widened. 

“She’s Harlow’s neighbor,” Joel explained, “Her house is the one I’ve been working on.”

“Oh, so you’re the one who made those croissants then, aren’t you?” Frank questioned. He glanced at Joel with a knowing look, their eyes meeting. Joel blushed, coughing to mask the embarrassment. 

“Yes I was. Did you like them?” I asked. Frank scoffed, looking back at Bill with a sarcastic look. 

“Tell her Bill, did we like them?” 

Bill cracked a small smile on his stoic face. “Violet, those were some of the best damn croissants we’ve ever had.” Frank turned back to me.

“Is there any way I could persuade you to make more for us?” he asked, rubbing his hands together excitedly. I giggled. 

“Absolutely. You can consider them a wedding present,” I told him. 

“We look forward to it,” he said, “but if you’ll excuse us we have more guests to thank for coming.”

“Of course you two,” Joel said. Frank took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. 

“It was very nice to meet you, Violet,” he said while making unwavering eye contact with me. His eyes were so kind, and his smile one of the most genuine I’d ever seen. It broke my heart that he wasn’t going to be around much longer. 

“You too, Frank,” I said, trying to push down my somber thoughts. 

As the afternoon continued on, all of the guests wound down and Bill and Frank did some usual wedding traditions. They cut the cake together, folks gave toasts, and finally they had their first dance. Yet again there was not a dry eye in the house as Joel and Tommy helped get Frank to his feet, aiding him in having his first dance with his new husband eye to eye. I would never hear the song ‘That’s How Strong My Love Is’ by Otis Redding the same way again. 

After their dance, Joel came back and sat next to me as others joined on the cement patio to dance. 

“Hi you,” I said as he wrapped an arm around me, resting it on the back of my chair. He was a little out of breath and rubbed one of his knees with his free hand, muttering about it under his breathe. I giggled. “That was very sweet of you, you old man.”

He gave me another stern glance, but couldn’t hold it for long, cracking a small smile. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

We sat together and listened to the music, watching people dance and interact. Joel hummed along with each of the songs, tapping to the beat on my shoulder. I couldn’t help but want to melt back into him and feel the vibrations of the humming in his chest. While I was lost in my thoughts, the song changed. I didn’t notice until Joel got to his feet and held a hand out to me. 

“Would you like to dance?” he asked. I nodded, realizing the song was The Mamas & the Papas’ ‘Dream A Little Dream Of Me.’

He helped pull me to my feet and then led me over to the patio. I turned around to face him and he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling my body close to his. He took my right hand in his, resting it on his chest before putting his hand over mine. I interlaced our fingers as I wrapped my free hand around his neck. He looked down at our entwined hands and smiled. As he began to sway us back and forth, I rested my head against his chest. 

I felt him let out of sigh of contentment, pulling me closer to him even still. His fingers dug into my side, like he couldn’t get me close enough. I pulled my head away from his chest to look up at him, my green eyes meeting his deep, dark brown ones. He rested his forehead against mine, slipping his other hand down around my waist. I reached up and linked my hands behind his neck; neither of us breaking eye contact. 

When the song was over, it felt much too soon. Without saying a word, Joel broke apart from me and immediately began tugging on my hand, leading me somewhere away from the patio. I followed as he led me to the side of the house, his footsteps impatient. Before I was able to ask him where he was taking me, he turned me around and pinned me to the wall with his hips. 

Our eyes met again as I looked up at him. I watched as his gaze flashed down to my mouth and back to my eyes. I nodded my head ever so slightly, giving him permission to do what I know he wanted to do. My heart began pounding as his hands cupped my face, my breaths shallow. 

 Joel closed the gap between us and crashed his lips against mine. My chest felt like it was going to burst at the seams. I grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer to me as his fingers twisted in my hair. His hands left my face, exploring my body as he deepened the kiss. I gasped for air as his lips trailed down my jaw and neckline, his mustache prickling my skin along the way. 

I grabbed my arms around his neck as he began hiking up my dress. Heat pooled between my legs as he reached his hands under my thighs and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his as he pinned me to the wall again, this time grinding against my center. He moaned against my neck, and I could feel him hardening underneath his jeans each time he dipped his hips into me. My head rested back against the siding as he kissed and bit at my neck greedily. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

We both jumped so hard I almost fell out of Joel’s arms and to the ground. We whipped our heads around to see Harlow standing by the corner of the house, her mouth agape. Joel set me down and helped me with my strap as I pulled my dress back down over my thighs. 

“Harles, listen-”

“Don’t Harles me, Joel. I don’t want to hear it from you,” she said, pointing a drunken finger at him. She turned her attention to me, her eyes narrowing at me. 

“I can’t fucking believe, you,” she said, pausing before the word ‘you’ for emphasis. 

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Joel asked, his tone serious and stern. 

“When I introduced you guys I was trying to be helpful to you both, not have you go behind my back Violet and fuck him,” she stated flippantly, “and even here? At Frank and Bill’s wedding of all places? You two just had to sneak off like goddamn hormonal teenagers?”

“Harlow, we’re not-”

“Save it, Violet. I saw you come home from staying the night at his place in his clothes,” she accused, scorn in her tone. 

“Harlow, this is none of your goddamn business, none,” Joel stated firmly, taking a step between me and Harlow. 

“It is my business, Joel. You have been my goddamn older brother since Lucas died. I have seen every woman who has used you in more ways than one, and you always get hurt,” she spat at him, “I just never would have thought that you would be one of those girls, Violet. I’m done here.”

She turned on her heel and left us standing there, dishelved and gobsmacked. Joel started to follow after her, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. 

“Joel, don’t. She’s drunk and needs to cool off.”

He nodded in agreement, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breath. I reached down and grabbed his hand and giving it a squeeze. We went back to the party in silence, and I tried to avoid looking in Harlow’s general direction. The knot in my stomach only got bigger as the afternoon went on. 

Once the reception was finally wrapping up, Joel and I said our goodbyes to Bill and Frank. After we got in the car we sat in silence, my brain wracking over what Harlow had said. 

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“What did Harlow mean by other girls using you?”

He sighed a knowing sigh. 

“That’s a story for another day.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x oc #no outbreak au #no outbreak!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us

[seharschronicles]

You were applying for a job, but it didn't work out. You were really hoping it would work out, or you were really hoping to get accepted into the university. Unfortunately, you didn't get accepted at the university. Those are the kinds of tests where you could feel depressed or sad, but you can't live in that sadness. Feeling those emotions at first doesn't mean you don't have Sabr. You can have those feelings and experience those emotions, then pick yourself up and try again.

So, you can have a dip, a low, and a high – that's being human. Allah didn't create us as angels. Sometimes we may face other trials, for example, an engagement that broke off, a marriage that ended miserably, or not wanting parents to get divorced, and they did. These situations involve people, people doing things that hurt us or things we wish they didn't do.

I think the solace, at least for me, comes from the stories in the Quran where people much better than us, like Yunus, had no control over his family. He didn't have any control; Ibrahim, an incredible human being, had no say in his father's choices. We cannot control other people's choices, and sometimes those choices deeply hurt us. People much better than us were hurt deeply. Ibrahim AS being kicked out of his house was not easy; being married to Firaun was not easy. For Musa AS, running away from home was not easy. These people were traumatized by many terrible experiences. Allah taught us through them that we can only control what is within our grasp, and we have to learn to let go of what isn't.

In the end, we say, "To Allah, we belong, and to Him, we are going to return." Any problem I'm having, how long is it going to last? Well, as long as I last. I'm not here for that long. When I think about the grand scheme of things, this problem isn't as big as I think it is. And of course, Allah has given us hope too. After every difficulty, there is great ease. Now, put yourself in their shoes; how much did the companions love the Prophet? When he died, how devastated were they? In that moment, for them to believe the Quran is still there, saying, "With difficulty comes twice the ease." They were devastated, in tears, broken, but their faith allowed them to heal and move forward. Allah created so much ease for the ummah afterwards.

That's just this life; it's going to come with trials and difficulties. Allah has made us mentally prepared that life isn't going to be easy; He said it many times. We all have trials; don't believe someone else has an easy life because they appear to on social media. Everyone has things causing them hurt; the person next to you has things causing them hurt. These influencers may talk about the blessings of Allah, but that doesn't mean they're showered with blessings every morning and have no issues.

Sometimes we run after things that are not real, believing them to be real because someone else has them. We may think others don't have any challenges, but everyone deals with their own pain. Allah tests people differently, but we don't see the other person's trial or know that their trial is the same as ours. We might wonder why Allah is not testing someone else or why we couldn't have it easy like they do. We don't know their reality, so these thoughts should give us some comfort. Whatever trial Allah has picked for me, whatever loss, whatever experience, is something I'm supposed to learn from, learn and grow from. Keep moving forward.

-Ustad Nouman Ali Khan

#allah #islamicreminder #islampost #islamdaily #islamicreminders #deen daily #deenislam #deenoverdunya

[blueysobssesions]

Ｒ Ｅ Ｓ Ｉ Ｄ Ｅ Ｎ Ｔ Ｅ Ｖ Ｉ Ｌ

𝗟𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗞𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗗𝗬~!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : Leon, weary from a tough fight, finds solace in your comforting presence

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : Happy Fathers Day!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : After doing the skdvjjsbsbsjs

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Them simping at u

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You wearing a bunnysuit

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Interview

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Highschool Crush

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your giving him silent treatment

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: He quits his job for you

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Insecure Jelaous reader

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Husband!Leon x Wife!Reader playing with their daughter!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Fem!Fox Girl Reader

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You and him fight over who will drive

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your sick

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your just worried for him, and he accidently snaps at you

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Leon coming home from china to see his pregnant wifey

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Him teaching how to use and hold a gun

𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗜𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗗𝗙𝗜𝗘𝗟𝗗~!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : He lends his coat to you

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Chris and Leon literally wrestling infront of you

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Highschool Crush

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: A scene that haunts him forever

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Comparing his hands to yours

𝗟𝗨𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗔~!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : In the throes of illness, you find comfort in the care of your Spanish boyfriend, Luis. As you navigate the challenges of a pounding headache, his attentive gestures and loving words create a warm haven.

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : Highschool Crushes

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Cuddles

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ?

𝗔𝗟𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗧 𝗪𝗘𝗦𝗞𝗘𝗥~!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : In the wake of shattered illusions, the protagonist confronts the harsh reality that the love they believed in was nothing but a facade. Betrayed and discarded, they grapple with the pain of wasted years and the realization that they were a pawn in a manipulative game.

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : You wearing a bunnysuit

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Him having a soft spot for you

𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗢𝗦 𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗔~!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : He finds it cute how your hands are small

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : You wearing a bunnysuit

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : Yan!Albert tries to get you but Redfield stops him... Tried

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : The room buzzed with joy, but little did we know, the night was about to take a dark twist.

𝗝𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗠𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗥~!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Highschool Crush

𝗣𝗜𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗦~!

𝗠𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗜𝗣𝗟𝗘 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦~!

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Will you marry me?

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Kissing him randomly

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When they see you sleeping on the couch

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: They say your the most "dangerous" person, but genuinely your sweet

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Incorrect quotes

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Singer!Reader

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You both were too loud last night

• sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : Is that a hickey?

#blueyheartzposts #resident evil

[superghfan]

GENERAL HOSPITAL Stars Remember Robyn Bernard

Soap fans were heartbroken to learn of the death of GENERAL HOSPITAL actress Robyn Bernard, who played Terry Brock on the soap. And so were some of the castmates and friends she made during her six years in Port Charles who shared their thoughts and memories with Soaps In Depth.

Kevin Bernhardt, who played Kevin O’Connor, Terry’s love interest who married her before gaslighting and trying to kill her, was devastated by the loss. “Robyn so perfectly embodied the character of Terry Brock that oftentimes Terry Brock seemed embodied in Robyn,” he recalled. “Robyn lived life to the fullest, and left every ounce of herself on those sets, as well as a big piece of her heart — with her songs.

“I am saddened to hear of the personal challenges she suffered after she had graced the show,” Bernhardt continued, “but I will continue to hold this beautiful and talented leading lady in my heart — as I remember Mrs. Kevin O’Connor. Robyn’s surely in a better place now, where she, Terry Brock, and their gospel songs will be just as beloved as they were by those who loved them on GENERAL HOSPITAL.”

Terry’s singing partner in 1987, Dusty Walker, was played by Shaun Cassidy, who shared: “I was saddened to learn of Robyn’s passing. She brought joy to a lot of people through her work on the show, and while I was only there for a brief period, she taught me a lot. My condolences to her friends and family.”

Brad Maule (ex-Tony) expressed: “Robyn Bernard was a wonderful actress and very much loved by everyone on GH. In the words of Willie Nelson, she was, ‘an angel flying too close to the ground.’

Guy Mack, who was Terry’s other leading man, Patrick O’Connor, composed some absolutely lovely words to pay tribute to his friend. “In the tapestry of life, she was a melody lost, a soul ensnared by shadows of torment,” he said. “Through the labyrinth of her existence, she sang with a voice that was a testament to her immense talent and resilience. Yet, her journey was veiled in a shroud and the harrowing echoes of past traumas. Gone are the burdens of a harsh world’s weight as she shed her cloak of mortal toil and pain.

“Though she wandered alone, lost, stubborn, and resolute,” he continued, “may she now find solace in the embrace of our Lord with eternal tranquility, where her voice and her soul’s song echoes forever. Like the autumn leaf untethered from the bough, she departs this mortal coil, no longer bound. Farewell, my friend. May your spirit soar unfettered, finally at peace. God bless you, Robin.”

Lynn Herring, whose Lucy was a mousy librarian at the time, shared: “So very sad. I loved her beauty and her talent so.”

“I remember Robyn very fondly,” shared Ian Buchanan (Duke). “She was a gentle, kind soul. So very talented and tons of fun! I am very sad to hear of her passing and send my deepest sympathy to her loved ones.”

X

#robyn bernard #kevin bernhardt #brad maule #guy mack #lynn herring #ian buchanan #general hospital

[tuiccim]

Water and Whiskey

Pairing: Frank Adler x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: After over three year away, you finally return home for the holidays. Could a chance meeting with an old crush spark a new flame?

Features: Fluff, Implied smut TW: Family drama (Reader and family are not on good terms.)

A/N: This is for the Thot Neighborhood's Tis the Season to be Thot-y writing challenge and gift exchange. This story is gifted to the ever lovely, @beach-daydreaming. I hope you enjoy it lovely! This is my first time writing for Frank. Thank you so much to my beta readers, @whisperlullaby and @awesomerextyphoon!

The security guard of the marina looked at your modest car dubiously as you pulled up to the entrance. Flashing your pass and license at him, he waves you through with a shrug. After coming home to Florida for the first time in nearly three and a half years, you had spent an uncomfortable evening with your family. Hoping for the holiday spirit would lighten the mood had proved fruitless. So, after several hours and more pointed conversations than you could stomach, you had no choice but to escape. You head to the one place where you had always found solace growing up, the water. 

As you walked down the dock to your family’s boat slip, you could see there was only one other boat with lights on further down. The clink of tools and softly spoken curses were unmistakable as you carefully boarded your vessel and made your way down below. It was the same as you always remembered and the bottle of much needed whiskey was easily located. A highball glass, a perfectly square chunk of ice, and a stiff pour had you sighing in relief. 

The night had been taxing to say the least. You had returned at the behest of your family to discuss an important matter. You were hopeful this would be a reconciliation of sorts and looked forward to telling them you were being transferred back to the area. The night had begun smoothly enough but as dinner progressed it became increasingly more obvious that the “important matter” was your need to move up in the world or marry well to stop embarrassing them all. You were a stain on the family reputation, the reprobate that chose to follow your heart rather than the family dictates. 

Your musings are interrupted by a voice from above, “Ahoy there!” 

Your eyes widen as you recognize the voice as smooth as the drink in your hand. You down the liquid contents and grab the bottle before taking the stairs up. 

“Ahoy yourself,” you smirk as your eyes light on the handsome face of Frank Adler. 

“Well, if the prodigal daughter hasn’t returned,” Frank smiles as he looks you over. 

“Yup,” you pop the 'p' while pouring yourself another glass of the amber liquid. 

“Shouldn’t you be home having a fancy dinner?”

“Been there, done that, and lost my appetite. Besides whiskey is a perfectly acceptable alternative to turkey,” you sip from your glass while studying him over the rim. Making up your mind, you smile at him, “Care to join me?”

“Permission to come aboard?” Frank raises a playful eyebrow. 

“Granted,” you turn away coyly and return below. As expected, he follows you. “How have you been, my fellow prodigal?”

"Missing you mostly," Frank quips. 

"Awwww, be still my heart," you sass back.

"How about you? Where have you been?" Frank's voice turned more serious as he found a seat on the couch and watched you fix his drink. 

"Got away, finished school, found a job, and lived my life on my own terms. Not anyone else's. It's been great," you hand him the glass and sit next to him.

"What brings you back to town then?" Frank raises an eyebrow. 

"My family asked me to visit. I hoped this would be a reconciliation but not so much," you shrug and then change the subject. "How's Mary?"

Frank gives a genuine smile, "She is a little sasshole."

"Sasshole?" You laugh. "Must take after her uncle."

"Definitely," Frank grins and launches into an explanation of Mary's college classes, girl scout troop, and growth as both a prodigy and a kid. 

"Sounds like she's doing amazing," you study him over the rim of your glass. He looks the same, maybe somehow even more handsome than you remember. You’d always been so attracted to him but you knew his reputation and you were sure you had never been his type.

"Yeah. What about you?"

"I'm, uh, I'm moving back."

"Why? Your parents?" Frank’s brows knit together. 

"No, I got a job offer. It's a dream job and I can't pass up the opportunity. Even if it is here," you explain.

"What happened tonight?" Frank asks the question he's had on the tip of his tongue since he first saw you. He knew you being here alone could only mean one thing. 

"Same thing that always happens, Frank. I'm a stain on the family's pristine reputation. I need to move up or marry up in the world and stop embarrassing them with the demeaning work I do." You shake your head at the absurdity of it all. 

"Your family is a piece of work," he shakes his head and shifts a little closer to you. 

"Tell me about it " you roll your eyes.

"Of course, you know about mine. No room to talk."

You laugh and salute him with your glass, eyeing him as he leans in closer.

"You could always start dating me. That would give them another reason to look down on you," Frank winks. 

"Oh no, they'd love that. Evelyn Adler's son! The brother of the brilliant mathematician that solved Navier-Stokes. What excellent stock to produce grandchildren from," you roll your eyes.

"Are you serious?" Franks asks incredulously.

"I don't know," you shrug.

"Is that why you were never interested in me?"

"What?" Your confused stare makes him chuckle.

"I mean, you always kept me at arms length. We'd always talk but you rarely flirted back whenever I saw you at Ferg's," Frank elbows you playfully.

"Pfft, you never flirted with me. Besides, you were looking for a one-nighter and that's not my style. You knew that," you look down at your glass, a little embarrassed.

"What if I had wanted more than that?" Frank asks.

"Frank, we both know that the only person you could commit to then was Mary. She took up your whole life except for Friday nights. That's all you had to give to anyone."

"Yeah," Frank sips his drink while staring into the distance. "Yeah, that's true. Still true in some ways."

"Just some ways?" You raise your eyebrow and shift a little closer to him.

"Yeah. Mary still takes up most of my time but…" he trails off, looking away. 

"But what?" You prompt, forcing his gaze back to yours.

"But now I'm ready. I want to have the same person on those Friday nights. Eventually, in between Friday nights, too."

"What? Frank Adler is ready to commit!?!" You tease him.

"Yeah, I am," Frank scratches the back of his neck as if a little bit embarrassed. 

"Anyone made the cut?"

"I was dating a teacher, Mary's teacher, for a while but it didn't really pan out."

"Sounds complicated," your lips twist.

"It was,” Frank chuckles.

"What about now?"

"Hadn't really been anyone who caught my attention until recently," Frank’s gaze makes your stomach drop. 

"Do tell. Who's caught your eye recently?" You ask.

"Old acquaintance. Showed up out of nowhere. I hear she might even be moving back to town soon."

"Frank," you roll your eyes at his insinuation, trying to hide how you really feel.

"You really never realized I was flirting with you?"

"You never flirted with me!" Your mouth gapes in disbelief. 

"Only every single time I saw you," Frank looks at you with raised eyebrows.

"No, you… We were just friends. You never-" cutting yourself off, you look back on the times over the years you ran into Frank. He was always sweet, solicitous but not flirtatious. He always complimented you but it was just him being nice. He- shit, you realize what an idiot you are. Frank seems to see the realization on your face and smirks. 

"It's not Friday. Where is Mary?" You ask suddenly.

Frank seems caught off guard by the question,"Uh, Roberta has her for the night so I could work late. I needed to have that boat repair done by the morning. Why?"

Draining your glass and setting it on the table, you lean into Frank. His arms immediately go around you. Putting your lips close to his you say quietly, "It's not Friday so I won't be one of your Friday Night girls."

Frank looks at you with a grin, "Shouldn't I take you on a date first? If we're gonna do this right?"

"Frank," you say coyly, "we're the renegades. We do things our own way. Sometimes completely backwards."

"I have some backwards moves I can show you," he teases, nudging your nose with his.

You straighten, smile at him, and begin unbuttoning your shirt, "Then let's get started."

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[youstolemyusername1andthat]

Uncharted horizonts

Tw:Nothing just click away if you hate long storys I guess

⭒A/n.Did a double uploud today but won't always upload so ⭒

Summery:

"Uncharted Horizons." follows the journey of Keegan Russ and Y/n through the various chapters of their life together. From a spontaneous road trip to a cliffside proposal, their love story unfolds against the backdrop of exploration and shared experiences.

The narrative delves into the complexities of their relationship, including Keegan's mysterious past and the challenges of his investigative journalism career. Throughout the ups and downs, Y/n remains a steadfast and supportive partner, their love becoming a source of strength.

As the years pass, Keegan and Y/n navigate the twists and turns of life, building a home filled with laughter, shared passions, and the joy of starting a family. The story explores themes of resilience, trust, and the enduring nature of love.

Ultimately, the couple faces the inevitable passage of time with grace, standing united against the vast canvas of their shared destiny. The narrative emphasizes the idea that the journey of love is an ongoing adventure, with uncharted horizons waiting to be explored together.

Regenerate

Keegan Russ stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean. The waves crashed against the rocks below, creating a soothing melody that echoed in the silence. He couldn't help but feel a sense of tranquility, a momentary escape from the chaos of everyday life.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, Keegan's mind wandered to Y/n. She was the anchor in his life, the one who brought stability to his unpredictable world. Their relationship was a blend of passion and understanding, a journey through uncharted horizons.

One evening, Keegan surprised Y/n with a spontaneous road trip. He whisked her away from the familiar streets of the city to a quaint cottage nestled in the hills. The air was crisp, and the scent of pine surrounded them. It was a haven, a place where time seemed to slow down.

They spent their days exploring the wilderness, hiking through trails that led to hidden waterfalls and panoramic viewpoints. Every step was a shared adventure, and every laugh echoed through the mountains. Y/n reveled in the spontaneity, and Keegan cherished the joy he could bring to her life.

Yet, amidst the laughter, there were moments of introspection. Keegan, a man with a mysterious past, often found himself haunted by memories he couldn't share. Y/n, perceptive and empathetic, sensed the shadows that lurked in the depths of his eyes. She longed to ease his burdens, to be the solace he needed.

One night, as they sat by the crackling fireplace, Y/n broached the subject. "Keegan," she began softly, "I can feel that there's a part of you you're not sharing. Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

Keegan hesitated, the weight of his secrets heavy on his shoulders. In that moment, he realized the depth of Y/n's love. He began to unravel the stories of his past, the triumphs, and the scars that shaped him. Y/n listened without judgment, her love becoming a beacon of acceptance.

Their journey together became a testament to resilience and love. They faced challenges, navigated storms, but always emerged stronger. The echoes of their laughter became a melody that transcended the trials of life.

One day, as they stood on the same cliff where it all began, Keegan turned to Y/n. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold, and he took a deep breath.

"Y/n, you are my anchor, my light in the darkest storms. I want to spend the rest of my life exploring uncharted horizons with you. Will you marry me?"

Tears welled in Y/n's eyes as she nodded, the weight of the unspoken words exchanged in that moment binding them together in a promise of forever.

Their love story continued, a tapestry woven with threads of joy, sorrow, and everything in between. Keegan and Y/n, two souls navigating the uncharted horizons of life, hand in hand, ready for whatever lay ahead.

And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon once again, casting its final rays on the couple, Keegan Russ and Y/n stood united against the vast canvas of their shared destiny.

The years unfolded like the pages of an epic novel for Keegan Russ and Y/n. Their love story became a symphony of highs and lows, a tapestry woven with threads of joy, sorrow, and everything in between.

After the cliffside proposal, Keegan and Y/n embarked on planning their dream wedding. The ceremony was a reflection of their journey — intimate, surrounded by nature, and filled with personal touches. The vows they exchanged were a testament to the depth of their connection, promising to be each other's strength in the face of whatever challenges lay ahead.

Their honeymoon took them to exotic locales, from bustling cities to serene beaches. They relished in the adventure of discovering new places, each destination etching memories into the canvas of their shared experiences. It was during these moments that Keegan realized the true meaning of home — not a place, but the warmth he found in Y/n's presence.

As the years passed, their relationship evolved. Keegan's career as an investigative journalist took them to different corners of the world. Y/n, an artist with a heart full of wanderlust, embraced the nomadic lifestyle. Together, they navigated the complexities of balancing passion and stability, finding solace in the fact that home was wherever they were together.

Yet, the shadows of Keegan's past lingered, occasionally casting a fleeting gloom over their happiness. It was during a rainy afternoon in a small Parisian cafe that Keegan decided to confront the ghosts that still haunted him. Y/n, perceptive as always, sensed the internal struggle and offered a supportive hand.

"I've been carrying this burden for too long," Keegan admitted, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window. "There are things I haven't shared, things I thought I could leave behind, but they've been clawing at me."

Y/n squeezed his hand, a silent assurance that she was there for him. In the quiet corner of that Parisian cafe, Keegan unraveled the remaining chapters of his past, allowing Y/n to witness the vulnerabilities he had guarded so fiercely.

Instead of pushing him away, Y/n embraced him tighter. "Keegan, we all have our scars. What matters is that you're here with me now. We can face whatever comes together."

The catharsis brought a newfound closeness to their relationship. The trust they shared deepened, and with it, a renewed sense of purpose. Keegan's investigative pursuits took on a new perspective — he sought justice not just for others but also for himself, closing the chapters that had long haunted him.

In the quieter moments of their life, they reveled in the simple pleasures. Lazy Sunday mornings with pancakes and coffee, evenings spent stargazing on their balcony, and the comfort of knowing that they had built a life where love was the anchor that held them steady.

As time flowed like a river, Keegan and Y/n faced the ebb and flow of life's uncertainties. They weathered storms, celebrated victories, and embraced the inevitability of change. Through it all, their love remained a constant, an unwavering force that stood resilient against the passage of time.

And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon once again, casting its final rays on the couple, Keegan Russ and Y/n stood united against the vast canvas of their shared destiny. The uncharted horizons that lay ahead were met with anticipation and courage, for they knew that together, they could navigate any journey that awaited them.

The years continued to unfold like the never-ending chapters of an epic novel for Keegan Russ and Y/n. Their love story, a masterpiece painted across the canvas of time, grew in richness and complexity.

After their dream wedding, the couple settled into a cozy home nestled between rolling hills and meandering streams. The house became a sanctuary, a haven where the echoes of laughter and the scent of shared meals permeated the air. It was in this idyllic setting that they built the foundation of a life filled with love and companionship.

As Keegan's career as an investigative journalist flourished, Y/n's artistry found new avenues for expression. Their shared adventures became a source of inspiration for Y/n's creations, each piece telling a story of the places they had been and the emotions they had shared. Their home transformed into a gallery of memories, a testament to a life well-lived.

However, the journey wasn't without its challenges. Keegan's relentless pursuit of truth often led them into the heart of danger. Y/n, though understanding of his passion, couldn't help but worry every time he embarked on a new investigation. Late-night phone calls and anxious waits became a routine part of their lives, a bittersweet reminder of the sacrifices that came with Keegan's commitment to justice.

During one particularly harrowing assignment, Keegan found himself caught in the crossfire of a dangerous expose. The threat loomed not only over his career but also over the safety of the life he had built with Y/n. It was in those moments of uncertainty that their love shone brightest. Y/n, unyielding in her support, became Keegan's anchor as he navigated the storm, emerging stronger and more resilient than ever.

In the quiet moments between investigations, Keegan and Y/n nurtured their relationship. They explored new hobbies together, took up cooking classes, and even adopted a rescue dog named Luna. Their home, once a refuge for two, now echoed with the playful barks and pitter-patter of paws, bringing an added layer of joy to their lives.

As the years rolled on, they welcomed new chapters into their story — the joyous anticipation of parenthood, the sleepless nights filled with lullabies, and the shared pride of witnessing their children take their first steps. Parenthood brought its own set of challenges, yet Keegan and Y/n faced them hand in hand, drawing strength from the unbreakable bond they had cultivated over the years.

In the golden years of their marriage, they found themselves sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The love that had started as a spark had grown into a steady flame, illuminating the path they had walked together. Keegan, with a twinkle in his eye, turned to Y/n.

"Do you remember that cliffside where I proposed?" he asked, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

Y/n nodded, a fondness in her gaze. "How could I forget? It feels like a lifetime ago."

Keegan took her hand in his, the touch a testament to the years they had weathered together. "And yet, every day feels like a new adventure with you. Will you continue exploring uncharted horizons with me?"

Y/n leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Always."

Their love story continued, a tapestry woven with the threads of a lifetime. As the sun dipped below the horizon once again, casting its final rays on the couple, Keegan Russ and Y/n stood united against the vast canvas of their shared destiny. The uncharted horizons that lay ahead were met with anticipation, for they knew that the journey, with all its twists and turns, was a story they would continue writing together.

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[rubyarrows]

Matters of the Heart

I watched as YN entered the room, her presence lighting it up instantly. It was a platonic bond we shared, an unbreakable connection forged through countless missions and shared experiences. Deeks and Kensi were there too, like our extended family, their camaraderie adding a sense of familiarity to the air.

As YN and I exchanged a knowing glance, I couldn't help but notice the slight tension in her expression. It was a look that only someone who knew her as well as I did would detect. Deeks and Kensi, always attuned to the nuances of our interactions, exchanged a glance of their own.

We gathered around the table, the mission details laid out before us. It was a routine briefing, the kind we had been through countless times before. Yet, there was an underlying tension, an unspoken weight that hung in the air. We were professionals, adept at masking our emotions, but even the best spies couldn't hide everything.

YN's eyes met mine again, and in that moment, I knew that she was struggling with something. I had always been able to read her, even when she thought she was hiding behind a mask. And right now, that mask was slipping.

"I know that's not what you want to hear," I said, my voice low but steady. It was a simple statement, but one loaded with meaning. It was my way of acknowledging her feelings without prying, of offering support without pushing her to reveal more than she was ready to.

Deeks cleared his throat, breaking the momentary silence that had settled over us. "You guys are like a married couple," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Kensi nudged him playfully, but even she understood the gravity of the situation.

YN managed a small smile, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. She knew that I was there for her, that I would always be there, no matter what. And I knew that she appreciated my understanding, my silent offer of companionship.

As the briefing continued, our attention shifted back to the mission at hand. But that unspoken exchange between YN and me lingered in the background, a testament to the depth of our connection. Deeks and Kensi were more than just colleagues; they were our friends who had become family over the years. And in this tight-knit team, we found solace and strength in each other's presence.

So, we faced the mission together, as we always did. And as the briefing came to an end, YN and I shared another look, a silent promise that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would confront them as a united front. In this world of secrets and uncertainties, our bond remained unwavering, a source of stability in the midst of chaos.

Sam and Hetty entered the room, their arrival marking the final pieces of our team falling into place. Sam's strong and steady presence was always reassuring, while Hetty's enigmatic wisdom and guidance were invaluable assets to us all.

"Is there something we're missing?" Hetty's keen gaze swept over the room, her eyes settling on each of us in turn. It was as if she could read our thoughts, dissect our emotions with a single glance.

"We were just discussing the mission, Hetty," I replied, keeping my tone neutral but respectful. I knew better than to try and hide anything from her.

YN's fingers tapped softly against the table, a telltale sign of her restlessness. Sam's observant eyes darted between us, a faint furrow forming on his brow. He might not have known the specifics, but he sensed the undercurrents at play.

"I sense there's more to this than meets the eye," Hetty mused, her gaze lingering on YN for a moment longer. "Mr. Callen, care to enlighten us?"

I took a deep breath, my eyes never leaving YN's. "It's personal, Hetty. Something YN is dealing with."

Hetty's lips curved slightly, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Ah, matters of the heart. The most intricate puzzles of all."

Sam's raised eyebrow and Deeks' barely suppressed grin made it clear that they were intrigued. Kensi gave YN a supportive smile, a silent gesture of solidarity.

YN finally spoke up, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes. "It's just… complicated."

"I know that's not what you want to hear," I repeated, this time directed at YN, my voice soft but firm. It was a reminder that I was there, that we were all there, no matter the complexities.

Sam crossed his arms, his expression serious. "We're a team, YNN. We've faced danger and uncertainty together more times than I can count. You can trust us."

YN nodded, her gratitude evident. "I know, Sam. It's just… difficult."

Hetty stepped closer to the table, her presence commanding attention. "Difficulties are the stepping stones to growth, my dear. And challenges, whether personal or professional, are best confronted with those who stand beside you."

As Hetty's words settled over us, a sense of unity enveloped the room. We were more than just colleagues; we were a family. A family that supported each other through the toughest of times.

"So, let's face this mission, as well as your personal challenges, head-on," Kensi said, her determination mirroring that of all of us.

The mission details regained the spotlight, but the atmosphere had shifted. There was a renewed sense of purpose, a shared resolve to not only tackle the mission but also to stand by YN as she navigated her own path.

As we dispersed to prepare for the mission, I caught YN's eye one last time. Our unspoken understanding remained, now fortified by the unwavering support of our team – Sam's strength, Hetty's wisdom, Deeks' humor, Kensi's empathy, and my steadfast presence.

In this ever-changing world of espionage, where loyalties could shift and trust was a rare commodity, our bond remained constant. And together, we were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, as both a team of professionals and a family of kindred spirits.

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