#AND LET IT BE KNOWN THIS IS WHAT I KNOW THE MOST ABOUT

[oceantornadoo]

ch1 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

masterlist | next

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“Yer gettin’ married next week.”

You scoff at your brother staring at his Scotch whisky like it holds the answers to the universe.

“And you��re the king of Egypt. Funny, Simon.” He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he glances at Johnny, his husband and right-hand man. The two have a silent conversation, a head twitch followed by a pursing of lips. Johnny’s lips are cracked and split, something you can’t imagine your brother is attracted to. Superb mental health does not run in your family.

Johnny rises out of his chair, a wooden thing that creaks with effort, and takes his leave. He ruffles your hair on the way out while you try, for the thirtieth time, to shove his side. You are, yet again, unsuccessful. He’s built like a tank.

“M serious, love. ‘Ve been in negotiations the past month. It’s happenin’ next Saturday, St Etheldreda's Church.” You run through a list of churches in your head. St. Ethledreda’s is not in Manchester. In fact, you’re pretty sure it’s not in your territory. Which means…

“Why’re you naming a church in London?” Simon’s quiet as his eyes bore holes into yours. This is one of his favorite tactics to use on his men - staying silent until they find the answer themselves. You hate when he uses it on you like you’re under his command and not his younger sister. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“We need an alliance an’ they offered.”

“Then write a fuckin’ treaty! Not a marriage certificate.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“It’s the 21st century.”

“Not in this family.”

That’s something you can’t argue against. Most people outside of your immediate circle don’t even know Simon’s married to Johnny, let alone into men. When he first came to power, you created a sob story for him - early marriage to his (female) childhood sweetheart, then fast-spreading cancer, ending with a man struck by grief. It allowed him a known reason for turning down arranged marriages while making him seem more human than your shared father. No one paid enough attention to you two as children to know the story wasn’t real, and fake certificates of marriage and death are a dime a dozen. Everyone knows he’s close with Johnny, his right-hand man, and that’s that.

“What about my bookstore?” It’s your pride and joy, plus it’s 95% legal. Mostly. 

“There’s bookstores in London.” London. Only 200 miles away, but it’s like another world. Another world where you can’t walk down the street where every single storefront owner knows who you are. Where the cops are on your family’s payroll and don’t blink an eye at the gun strapped to your hip. It doesn’t matter if you were raised away in your formative years, losing your accent and most concepts of slang that baffle you. It doesn’t matter if you only share a father with Simon, that your mother was a Riley employee and not Mrs. Riley. Manchester is your home. 

It doesn’t occur to you that you have a choice, mainly because you know you don’t. The firm, or mafia, gang, or whatever you want to call it, still operates as if women are objects to be traded and bought. Marriages are merely political agreements. Getting to run a bookstore, or cash-cleaning business, as a woman is almost unheard of where you’re from. Others might call you lucky, but it’s more like being a bird in a gilded cage. A glimpse of what a true, normal life might look like. Living in a flat above your store, hosting local book clubs, setting out free cookie samples - all to be ruined when Johnny stumbles through with a gunshot or the newest recruits are sent to grab more bullets from the basement. Every other week, you snap back from your daydream and remember that you’re a mafia princess at the end of the day, though duchess seems more adequate since the Rileys don’t have that big of a territory.

“And who is my husband-to-be in London?”

“John Price.”

“I’d rather marry Nikolai. In fact, I might just go elope.” Simon glares and you glare back. “I’m not marrying John Price.” You clarify, for emphasis. Simon leans forward in his office chair, looming over his desk like a puppet master. You’re in the chair across from him, crossing your legs casually like you’re not discussing your arranged marriage and potential future. “Contract’s done, love. Jus’ waitin’ on yer signature.” Your signature, the one change from the barbaric practices of old England. You could say no, but then Simon would have no choice but to cut you off. It would be a sign of weakness to the other families if he let a delinquent bastard half-sister run his decisions.

“I want to negotiate the contract.” It’s the closest your brother has ever been to rolling his eyes. They twitch with restraint, blonde lashes flickering. “This isn’t a TV show, kid. Yer not negotiatin’ yer bloody contract.” You uncross your legs, hands on your armrest like you’re about to leave. “Fine. Let me go call up the NCA, tell them all about my brother and his scary gang.” He sighs deeply, then pulls out his phone. “Bloody hell. Can’t wait t’ marry you off, fuckin’ arsehole.” You grab the bright pink stress ball on his desk, a stocking stuffer you gave him as a joke, and throw it at him. He doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone, huffing as the ball hits the side of his head. 

“Here.” He tosses you the phone that’s already ringing. There’s no contact name, just initials. JP. “Riley. Got a problem?” A smooth baritone emits from the phone’s tinny speakers. “Hope you’re not busy this weekend, future hubby. I can’t wait to see you.” Simon sighs at the consequences of his own actions. John’s silent on the other end, processing your words. Bit thick, that one.

“An’ why’s that, sweetheart?” It’s a term of endearment but he laces it with vitriol. “We’re having tea on Saturday at my store. Bring your contract and favorite lawyers. See you then!” You hang up before he can answer, tossing the phone back to Simon. He shakes his head at you.

“Smile, Simon. It’ll be nice to bond with your brother-in-law.”

This is going to be a very long marriage.

If you even get down the aisle.

-

Why does reader hate John? Why is she also a little shit? All will be revealed :)

[shysuccubusstuff]

Yandere! Caleb:

Content: Non proof-reader; Gaslight + Manipulation + Lying; Established relationship + Somnophilia + Masturbating with clothes + Possessiveness + Riding + Size difference + Praising + Dumbification + Overstimulation + Thigh riding.

Note: I have never been a Caleb hater, so of course I had to write something about this cutie... Have you all seen the trailer? What do you think about him? I'm actually quite glad that they added someone who better fits the role of a dark romance, as Sylus was just a green forest contrary to what he was presented as. Let me know if you want in comments/private messages!! Also, sorry if it seems a bit too short :((

SFW:

Yandere! Caleb, who has known you since childhood, thus it is only natural that he knows every single small detail about you. What do you mean by saying that it's not normal for him to know the exact measures of every single inch of your body? He has known you for over eleven years, it's only natural.

Yandere! Caleb who sometimes takes advantage of your kind heart, remarking just how close you are, gaslighting you into thinking that some of the stuff he does for you is completely normal between friends. I mean, of course friends tell each other where are they every single second, and of course they know all of their other friends.

Yandere! Caleb who also uses the advantage of being a bit older than you, so you just have to trust his advices. He knows best, and he loves you, so how could you even doubt him?

Yandere! Caleb who slowly makes sure to get rid of your other friends, specially those who seem a bit too eager to hangout with you. He does this by lying, asking you to help him searching for the perfect gift for grandma, as he wasn't completely sure if that would actuall suit her taste. Or maybe getting sick on purpose, bathing with freezing cold water, staying there for a few hours just to make sure you would refuse to leave him all alone.

Yandere! Caleb who overprotected you since he was young, always holding hands with you until you started to get shy about it. He was always leading you, his magnetic gaze making it impossible to refuse his requests.

Yandere! Caleb who starts to train late at night as a way to stop his own urges to chain you to him. Punching the training bag as he keeps reminding himself that if he does that it would mean breaking the façade he had spent so much time creating just for your entertainment.

Yandere! Caleb who buys you a beautiful necklace for your birthday, he smiles brightly as he helps you put it around your neck. You were still unaware, but this was just one of the most tame ways he came up with to show just how much he wanted you only for him.

NSFW:

Yandere! Caleb who sometimes makes his way inside your house late at night, the keys to it in his pockets as you had given them to him in case he ever needed a place to rest, or he simply wanted to pay a visit. He rummages around your drawers, searching for anything that has your scent, he presses it to his nose, smelling that sweet scent as he feels his erection grow under his pants. He bites his lips as a way to keep himself from undoing his belt and start to touch himself just from imagining your precious face smiling at him.

Yandere! Caleb who enjoys using his own body weight as he fucks your pretty pussy, making you whine and mewl each time he increases the pressure against your lower tummy causing his dick rubbing even more against your insides. Even despite you cling to the sheets for dear life as he plunges against you, he simply smiles sadistically, one of his hands petting your hair as he keeps watching you try to stop yourself from spilling out all those lewd moans by biting on the pillow. His mind rushing as he imagines all those damn "friends" hearing you melt under him just from him moving his hips a bit as he forces his way into you.

Yandere! Caleb who loves seeing the necklace he gave you recoiling against your chest each time he helped you to move up and down his cock, nails digging on his back as he kept hitting that sweet spot, kissing your neck as he whispered sweet nothings against your ear: "You're doing so good for me, yeah, keep moving your hips baby..." [...] "Are you getting tired, baby? Let me help you." Suddenly, his hands wrap around your hips, forcing his whole length on a single thrust, a squeal leaving your mouth as the tip of his cock suddenly hit against your cervix, eyes rolling back as he kept pressing his cock against you, mainting you completely still as he kept praising you. "Shh... You're doing so good for me, taking my whole cock inside you... So good baby, so good for me... Just a bit more, yeah? Gotta make sure you get all dumb and pretty for me, right?"

Yandere! Caleb who loves dirtying your face with his cum, allowing you to give him head, his fingers making their way into your lower half, using his rough fingertips to play with your clit as you started to spread soft kisses all over his length. By the time he finally cums, your mind was completely melted from cumming all over his fingers and mouth, sucking on his cock mindlessly as he moved his hips in a slow rythm, only increasing it as he came inside your mouth. When he opened his eyes, he found a precious sight, your mouth slightly open as a few strings of his cum escapep from your soft lips, your eyes looking at him as if you were dazed, glistening with a mixture of pure love and devotion. He quickly cleans it, kissing your lips as lets you rest on top of him, peppering soft kisses all over your face. "You did amazing, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me."

Yandere! Caleb, who sometimes becomes extra mean with you, making you mewl as he forces you to orgasm just from using his knee, having you ride them as he looks at you with an unamused look on his face. You keep rubbing against his clothed lower half, pleading between soft moans to get him to touch you, whispering things like: "Please, please, please, just the tip-- Can't take it anymore... Caleb please--". By the time he decides to get you to cum, you are already a panting mess, drool falling down your chin as your mind is already too far gone, tears falling down your face from the frustration. Before you are even able to realise, Caleb is already forcing you to cum all over your panties, his fingers rubbing against your clothed clit as you mumble a few words of gratitude.

[laufeysvalentine]

i want you.

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ remus x best friend!reader -- or in which you're in love with your best friend, but he's not exactly in love with you back... angst

word count ༄ 3.2k

nora’s notes ༄ eeek my first writing post!! i'm so excited. this is kind of bad but IDC part two will be coming and i swear will be better written okay enjoy!! mwah 💘

“moony!” you sing-song as you twirl into his dorm, lips spread into a wide grin. “we’re leaving for hogsmeade, hurry up.” 

he’s on his bed, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he glances up from his book, suppressing a smile when he sees you. “hi, y/n.” 

he embodies the word comfort, you think. he’s wearing one of his trademark warm wool sweaters, an empty mug of tea by his knee, gray blanket draped across his lap, and that smile. it would be the death of you, you were sure of it. 

“hi,” you respond, clasping his book and setting it onto his bedside table. “c’mon, everyone’s waiting for us downstairs.” 

he sighs so deeply you think he might crack a lung, and loops his pointer finger through one of the belt loops of your jeans to pull you onto his bed. “do we have to?” 

as much as you’d like to stay here with him, you also want to buy more chocolate frogs, so you spring back up, tugging at his hand. “yes, please. i’m low on my candy stock.” 

he groans, letting you pull him off of his bed and out of the dorm. “your sweet tooth is killing me.” 

you shrug. “that’s what you signed up for when you said yes to being friends in first year. now you’re just living with it.” 

he just hums in agreement, letting you wrap your arm around his. remus lupin, your best friend. he’s the kindest man you’ve ever met, let alone known. it would be a lie to say you weren’t completely and utterly in love with him, and even more of a lie to say you hadn’t been since before you were a teenager, even if you didn’t understand it then. but, alas, as soon as you’d admitted it to yourself, you also resolved to never, ever tell him. you were sure he didn’t feel the same about you, and why would you carelessly toss away the best friendship and most understanding person ever just for some feelings? 

and so, you waited and hoped, prayed that it would go away. you would move on and keep your friendship. 

and, of course, you didn’t. 

“y/n!” james calls once he sees the two of you walking down the stairs to where the rest of the marauders are waiting. “finally.” 

“we sent you up like ten minutes ago,” peter complains, frowning. 

you shrug. “oops.” 

remus shifts his arm to settle around your waist, nudging you in front of him. “well, we’re here now, so get a move on.” 

you thread the hand he placed on your stomach with your own, thumb rubbing circles onto his. he smiles down on you, and that smile, oh, lord. you could see it a million times and never have enough. you’d jump over bridges to have him watch you like that all the time. you’d sell your soul to be his, really and truly. and the worst part is, you have no shame about it. merlin, you’re in love. 

—

jelly beans or chocolate frogs, that is the question. you glance at one, then the other, then the other again. your shoulders slump. it’s too hard of a decision. you’re about to cave and get both when you feel warm arms wrap around your waist, a chin settling onto your shoulder. without looking, you press a kiss to remus’ cheek. “hi.” 

“hi,” he replies, inhaling your scent, nose tucked between your ear and your hair. 

“chocolate frogs or jelly beans?” you ask anxiously, holding up the two in front of you. “or both?” 

“both,” he agrees with you, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving him as he stands behind you, entwined with you. 

you nod, happy with his judgment, about to speak when someone beats you to it. 

“remus?” a voice yells from behind, excitement coloring her tone. 

you know who this is without looking too, but you wish you didn’t. remus slowly stands back to his whole height, and the sudden absence of his warmth makes you shiver. you turn just as he does, even if you don’t want to see the girl beaming at him. 

you know her, of course you do. doesn’t everyone know celeste huxley, the most beautiful hufflepuff to grace hogwarts’ campus? angels sing when she walks past, men and women fall to her feet in her wake. she’s worshiped, adored. okay, you’re being dramatic, but still. 

you hate her. 

you hate her silky hair, her evergreen smile, her cesspool of kindness. 

and you hate yourself more for hating her. she’s never been mean to you a day in her life, she couldn’t be mean to anyone even if she tried. but still. she’s who you’ve tried to be your whole life. she is the blueprint, the model with cherry-red high heels you wobble and blister your feet in. she has all Os on her OWLs, victoria’s secret hair, people who love on her like a celebrity. and she’s fucking obsessed with your best friend, of course. she could have anyone in the world, and she picked him. why couldn’t she love sirius or james, like half the girls at the school? why did she have to want remus? 

and the worst part is, she deserves him. he deserves someone as perfect as he is, even if that’s celeste. 

as you swallow down your hatred, you realize she’s started to pull remus away from you, pulling on his sleeve towards the jelly slugs, and you almost lob your stupid chocolate frog at her head. tears sting your eyes and you try your best to blink them back as you watch remus watch you, only half-listening to her blabber. he knows you hate her, and the most sheepish, guilty look comes over his face. you ignore him, putting your candy back, too upset to think about eating it. luckily, you spot sirius in the corner and quickly try to make your way over him when you’re pulled back. 

remus has got ahold of your belt loops again, and you watch him whisper something to celeste before gently removing her hand from his sweater and pulling away. he chose you now, but for how long? the thought chills you, goosebumps prickling your skin, your heart. 

“dove,” he says quietly by your ear. “what happened to your candy?” 

“didn’t want it,” you mumble, walking towards sirius. 

“why not?” he’s dancing around the topic, and both of you know it. 

“not hungry.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“s’not your fault,” you say. you’re not mad at him, you could never really be mad at him, but you’re upset nonetheless. you push away towards the black-haired boy perusing the shelves. “siri, you done?” 

you link arms with your other friend, leading him out of honeyduke’s, leaving remus trailing behind. 

—

“hi dove.” a voice, and its accompanying owner, peeks out from the doorway into your dorm. “may i come in?” 

“hi rem,” you say in response, beckoning him in, putting your book to the side to let him crawl onto you. “can’t you always?” 

his shoulders sag slightly, slumping into your bed as soon as he reaches it. his head is in your lap, and he closes his eyes once you begin to massage his scalp with your fingers, pressing a kiss to your exposed hipbone next to him. 

you don’t say anything, you just let the silence dance between the two of you. 

he’s so pretty. you brush some of his sandy strands out of his face to let yourself just admire him. the towering giant and all his gentleness. your fingers trace the outlines of his face, the scars that decorate it, all the way down to his right pinky, where he has the cutest tattoo. 

i love you is all you want to say. the words pulse at your throat, begging you to let them free. but you can’t. you can’t lose him. anyone else, sure, you would do it. but not him. not remus, your remus. 

when he wakes, groggy but grounded, you have a hot cup of tea ready by your bed, ready for his consumption. you hand it to him as soon as he’s fully awake, pulling himself off of you to accept the mug. “i don’t deserve you, dovie.” 

“don’t say stuff like that, rem. if anything, you deserve better.” you press a kiss to his cheek, smiling. 

“there’s nobody and nothing better than you,” he promises, hand landing on your lower thigh to massage it gently. you smile, letting the quiet linger between the two of you a little longer before speaking up. 

“you wanna talk about it?” you ask, watching him sip his tea. 

he gives you the most adoring smile, and you want to put it in a box and lock it up and keep it forever. “just tired.” 

“okay,” you say, searching his face to verify what he’s saying. “you can always talk to me, you know.” 

“thank you.” remus is always sincere, it’s one of the things you love about him, but he seems especially sincere now. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, y/n.” 

“and you are to me,” you whisper, eyes dipping to his plush pink lips. you want to kiss him so badly right now, but you know he just means it like a friend, as much as you wish it wouldn’t. 

swallowing, you wipe those ideas away, choosing to rest your head against his fleece sweater-covered shoulder. he drops a kiss onto the top of your head, and you sigh in contentment. this is why you refuse to tell him you love him. you couldn’t live without these moments. 

“there’s a party tonight at nine-ish,” he says softly. his thumb is rubbing circles on your knee. “sirius is dragging me along. will you come?” 

you contemplate it only briefly. “i’m tired, rem. you should go, though.” 

“i’ll stay back with you,” he decides with resolution. your heart melts, it’s sweet of him to want to stay with you, but you want him to have fun. plus, you can feel in how his body coiled with excitement when he talked about it–he wants to go. 

“no, go.” you glare playfully at him. “i won’t forgive you if you don’t.” 

“i’ll stay with you,” he repeats, staring right back at you. “it’s just a party. i’d stay with you forever, you know? you’re my favorite person.” 

“i’ll be mad at you if you don’t go, i swear to merlin,” you egg him on, heart melting. 

“no.” he’s too stubborn for his good. 

“i want to be alone,” you lie. you know he wants to go and you refuse to hold him back. “i might come later on, just not at nine. i’ll be there at ten, maybe.” 

“and i’ll wait for you,” he promises. 

“please, remus.” you put on your saddest tone, gaze up at him pleadingly. “i just need some alone time.” 

“you want to be alone?” he asks cautiously, searching for any hint you may be lying. 

“yes.” you cross your toes, tucked under your quads. 

he’s hesitating, and as if in perfect timing, a knock sounds at your door before a familiar head of black hair peeks through. 

“moony, let’s go. leave poor y/n alone.” sirius clicks his tongue. 

you push remus’ shoulder lightly, gesturing for him to go. he casts one long look at your face, as if memorizing every ridge. 

“she’s not going to change while we’re gone, get a move on,” sirius groans from the door. you nod at the statement, and remus concedes. 

“i’ll be here the whole time,” you promise. 

“call me if you get lonely.” he makes you swear before reluctantly getting up. you kiss his hand to send him off. 

you were lying when you said you would join him at nine. five minutes after he’s out the door, you’re fast asleep under the covers, the ghost of his touch comforting you. 

—

as soon as your eyes open, you let out a sound of disappointment. you can tell you haven’t slept through the night, as none of your roommates are in their beds, and they always sleep in. the clock reads that it’s only a bit before eight forty five, and you roll over in your bed. you know you won’t be able to fall back asleep, but you try anyway, until the door slams and your eyes fly open. 

it’s lily, face flushed with the cold and excitement. the second she sees you kissed by sleep, she covers her mouth. “sorry, y/n! were you sleeping?” 

you wave her off. “no, i was already awake. what’s up?” 

“james is going to be at the party tonight. will you come? please, please, please? i don’t want to go alone with him,” she begs. “please.” 

you weigh your options: if you stay here, you’ll just lay in bed, not sleeping. you might as well go with her, you’ll see remus there too. 

“okay,” you agree, and she practically drags you out of bed, she’s so happy. 

—

even though lily’s the one who dragged you here to keep her away from james, she’s off with him in a corner within ten minutes of you getting there, leaving you in a sea of other people, alone. of course, you know most of your housemates that are stuffed into this crowded common room, but you don’t know any particular one of them enough to properly go up to and chat. you sit awkwardly on a couch for a few minutes, next to couples making out, before finally just giving up and getting ready to leave. 

you saw sirius going into a bedroom with someone, so he’s out of the picture, peter’s smoking in the corner with some ravenclaws you have no interest in speaking with, james is alone with lily, and he’d kill you if you interrupted them, and you have absolutely no clue where remus is. 

whatever. you walk towards the door to the girls’ dormitories, stumbling over students on the way, when you just barely catch a glimpse of sandy hair outside on a balcony. you’d know it anywhere–that’s remus. you scramble towards him, eager to see a friendly face, hand cracking the door open, when just as quickly as it came, the excitement dies in your throat. 

because just behind remus is a girl you hate to see. celeste, hair floating behind her. if you blink hard enough, you see a breeze wafting through her hair as her fingers knot around remus’–your remus–neck. his hands are on the small curve of her waist, and he’s pushing her against the railing and, oh god–they’re kissing. 

you let out a thick gasp and your hand slaps over your mouth. you turn and flee. they probably heard you, but they can’t maneuver through the crowd like you can. within seconds, you’re sure you’ve lost any trace of them, darting through people as you sprint outside to the outside of the castle. sure it’s past curfew, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

no one will see you now. 

he’s supposed to be yours. he was yours, he was yours in more than just a best friend. those nights when he fell asleep in your bed, having you wrap your arms around him for warmth, he was yours. when you always visited him post-full moon in the apothecary, and as much as he wishes to push you away, you never let him, he was yours then. when he lets you in, truly and fully, and lets himself cry against you, letting you take care of him for once. you’re the only person he’s ever let himself cry in front of.

and even though you’d deny it a million times, and you did, to sirius, to james, you’ve always hoped that he liked you back. deep down, in the parts of your soul you only ever showed to him. he didn’t have to love you, even. just like, that would be enough. anything would. 

but that was too much for him, clearly. 

you’re crying. tears, fat and hot, soaking the skin on your cheeks. head in your hands, letting your open palms pool the salty water. you feel nothing but yourself and the wind against the cold of the stone steps, whipping your hair around. 

“dove.” 

you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’re hallucinating, praying the voice you just heard wasn’t real. you couldn’t see him right now. that would be humiliating. 

“y/n?” 

you crack your eye open when you hear the same voice, trying to swallow your sobs back and failing as they manifest into ugly hiccups. you’re not hallucinating. merlin damn it. 

in front of you, peering up at your blotchy face, is remus lupin, your best friend. the man who’s not yours. 

he’s on the step below you,  but one hand snakes its way onto your knee, soothing your skin with his slender thumb, the other finding your hand to intertwine your fingers. fuck, his touch both makes you lean into him and want to throw up at the same time. his eyes are chock-full of compassion, and god, you hate it. “what’s wrong?” 

his words send you blubbering into tears again, rubbing at your eyes as something splits open in your chest. “n-nothing.” 

“something’s wrong, love. let me help you. let me in,” he pleads in the softest tone, and you have to fight to not give in, to wrap your arms around him and never let go. remember celeste, remember that terrible sight of his lips on hers. 

“remus, leave me alone.” you’re shaking, but somewhere inside you, you find your resolve. you stand, pulling away from him, and make to run back inside the castle, but his long legs catch up to you easily, arm shooting around your waist when your knees buckle and you collapse onto the floor in sobs. 

“y/n, you’re scaring me,” he says, panic accumulating in his voice. “please tell me what’s wrong and i’ll fix it, i promise. please, baby. it’s killing me hear you cry.” 

you’re so close to the doors, you can see them. you stand again. “you don’t get to say that.” 

“what?” his arm’s still around your shoulder and you shove it off. 

“stop it! you’re so mean, remus. you don’t get to call me dove and call me baby and say stupid things like how there’s nobody better than me and i’m your favorite person and then go off and kiss other girls,” you spit out on the verge of hyperventilating. you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. it’s just coming out, spewing out of your mouth like the vomit that’s sure to follow. but even as each word shocks you, you know they ring true. “i hate you for it. i hate you for leading me on for years when i’ve loved you since we were kids! you’re terrible, remus. i hate you.” 

he’s absolutely stunned trying to process your words, and you use the momentary distraction to race back into the school, gunning for your dorm and locking it once you’re inside. the image of celeste and remus plays through your mind all night, so much that you can barely even think about how you confessed your love to him.

masterlist | next part

tags @lydiasfalling @dancingwithourhandsuntied

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

His. | The Salesman x Wife!Reader

Summary: You were his, a shame some men did not get the memo.

Warnings: Canon violence - Possessive!Salesman  - Violent!Salesman - Jealous!Salesman - Simp for his wife - Slut Shaming (not reader) - A man being a creep - The Salesman getting quiet creative with the games - grammar mistakes -

The Salesman loves his wife, he loves her so much that he would burn Seoul down just for her.

He hates when others get her attention, your attention, you are his after all. Why do you need to meet up with your parents ? Dont they trust that He is taking well care of you ? Why does your friends wants a night out without their S/Os ? Does they want to be whores and cheat ? You woulnt ever do that to him!! You are smitten and down bad for him.

He has worked so hard to make you fall for him and his well composed self. You never once saw his dark side, his emotions were always under control when he was with you. He only showed you his good side, the side that was deep down locked only for you.

Would it bee too cheesy to say you had the key for his heart ? Probably, but that was the truth. No one could pull him away from his dark ideas, only you, he just needed to see your name on his phone to light up his mood.

And he knows he has his own failures, being possessive over you its one of them. But he cant help it, you are after all an amazing woman. Everyone should bow down to you when you pass them. The Salesman has to calm down his anger when he sees just the smallest disrespect towards you. He is already making plans on how he would take revenge for you.

But he cant go on killing every person that bothers him. Not because he does not want to do it. No, he would love to. But because it would attract too much attention and last thing he wants its you being under stress or having a police on his tail.

However there are things that just crosses the line, makes him see red and think:

When was the last time I played a game with someone ?

And god knows he does not mean an innocent game.

But what was going on that was pulling on his nerves?

Well, the spring season had just started and you being the lovable creature wanted to go out towards a well known park to see the new flowers.

He agreed, anything for his wife. He even looked up which day would be the best one to go and see all the new flowers. Not that he cared for these, no. He wanted to see your smile and that spark in your eyes. That was what he wanted.

And of course you had dress beautiful for it, part of him was temped to just stay home and show you how much he loved you in more carnal ways. But he decided to let that for the night.

The park was as expected full of peopel of all ages. Three times he had moved to the side to avoid being crashed by a kid, and three times you had give the parents a polite smile and a few words to not worry about it.

Hand in hand you two walked around. Besides the flowers there were sellers, ballooms, sweets, water, even umbrellas.

"Love can you get me a bottle of water? Oh! And ice cream?" You asked pointing at two stalls.

He nodded giving you his signature smile kissing your cheeck and telling you not to move that he would be back soon.

Saddly the ice cream took more time since there was a small line. He kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure you were alright. And for the most part you were, sitting there looking down at your phone (probably telling your friend group about your date, well he will check that later).

"What flavor Sir?"

He told the seller the flavor you wanted, pay for it and waited taking another look at you, a small smile on his face-

Only to be wipped out at the new sight.

A Man, maybe younger than him was sitting right next to you. Talking to you, smiling at you, being too close to you.

Who does that Man think he is ?

He cant help it, he is jealous, knows you wont ever go behind his back. You were his, his wife and only his. Why others seemed to not get the message?

"Sir?.."

Fuck, he must have stared for too long and looking a bit too agressive because now the seller was almost trembling as he was giving him the ice cream.

Just as he was having a death stare it went back to his polite self, taking the ice cream and going towards you.

The closer he got, the angrier he felt. That Man, no, that fucking worm was even closer now. He did not need to know what he was saying to you, his body language gave it away.

And so did yours. You were not liking it. If you being almost on the corner of the bench was not enough then your face was a clear give away.

But some men are pathetic and even when they can see the ring on your finger they wont back off.

Scum of life, this one would not live.

"Im married, and im getting uncomfortable. You should leave"

Oh your voice, like an angel it almost made him feel at ease.

Almost.

"Dont be like that baby, I just asked for your number, and I dont mind sharing"

Well he did mind. In fact he never liked sharing. And even less when it comes to you. You and sharing does not go in the same prhase, hell no.

He catches your eyes and can see the ask for help. And so he is finally there, whatever that excusme ot a human was going to say its cut off by his polite cold tone.

"Sorry my love, there was a line. I got you water and your favorite flavor" He says ignoring the man and giving you the items.

"And who may you be?" He asks his fake polite smile showing. He is towering over him. Making him feel small and smaller.

If he could, he would snap his neck here.

"Uhh, no one important. Sorry I will leave now" The namelss man says standing up and bowing, but before he can go the Salesman takes his arm rather harshly.

"I insist, you kept my wife company while I was gone after all.

And like that, thinking that he is fooling him he gets his name.

The Salesman nods and thanks him before taking your arm to start walking to the opposite side of the park.

"He came- I did not want to make a scene" You start, not scared of him but feeling rather bad because you are covinced he feels bad.

"No. Its my fault. I left you alone for too long, a beautiful woman as yourself should never be alone. Dont worry, you are with me now" He says kissing your head. "Eat your ice cream before it melts or did that exchange leave you with a bad feeling?"

Fucker he would pay for ruining his wife day.

"A bit...but you got it for me, so I will eat it" You said smiling up at him.

His heart flutters, you would do anything for him. He knows it. Maybe not like the same things he would do for you, but he knows you would push whatever thing or person aside if it means making him happy.

His dear wife.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Park Beolle" The Salesman said the mans name in a cold tone walking behind him. "Your parents did not like you a lot right? I cant blame them, you stole money from them multiple times" The Salesman said.

"This is not for them, its because you ruined my wife's day. And did not respect her. So I must punish you, I dont expect someone like you to understand"

Park Beolle stood there, hands tied behind his back, heels tied up together as well, a tape over his mouth. In front of him multiple bear traps stood.

The Salesman took out his loved gun "If you manage to cross the room within twenty seconds then you will live but I you fail"

He stood besides him gun on his own head a sick smile on his face.

"I will shoot you, and it goes without saying that you will have to jump. Ready?"

The Salesman saw the poor display of ability seeing him get his feets inside one of the bear traps making him fall, another one closing.

The tape muffled his screams but the Salesman kept watching him and the time.

"And up" His voice was a sing song tone, like he was happy about it.

The sound of the gun fired was everything that was left. Blood soaked the bloor.

"Ah, im going to be late. I need to clean this, well I hope my dear wife waits for me" He said taking a napkin and cleaning his face. "I will call her just in case"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

For the first time The Salesman came to his house with you already sleeping. He had kept you on call for one hour with the excuse of him doing some papel work.

"Eh? Metal sound?" He had say carrying the bear traps "I think you are getting sleepy my love, or maybe it was this stapler"

He smiled softly at your sleep form. Not even aware of the monster he was, to you he was a loving dotting husband. Nothing more and nothing else.

"Sleep well my love, I love you"

The now clean blood from his face and hands were a seal of it.

[alotofpockets]

Clingy | Vivianne Miedema x Man City!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Do you really think she likes that you're so clingy?"

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.3k

-----

You had been at City for a few years now, and your teammates knew you well. They knew you loved the team, and hanging out together, but they also knew that you weren’t as affectionate as most of them were. 

Never did your teammates think anything of you not being affectionate with them. It wasn’t something everyone enjoyed, and they knew that. They were just happy to have you around.

However when Viv joined the team, all of a sudden they saw a shift in your affection. 

The first time they noticed something was when you were on the bus, sitting next to Viv. Her head leaning on your shoulder, after she had fallen asleep. Most of your teammates had seen the moment, but figured Viv had just nodded off, and you didn’t want to wake her.

But it wasn’t just that moment. It didn’t matter in what environment you were, Viv always found a way to be near you.

When walking towards the pitch for training, Viv would loop her arm through yours. You never shrugged her off, and your teammates noticed there how naturally you let it happen.

During drills at training, she would nudge your shoulder ever so often while waiting for the next drill. Sometimes it was to point something out, other times it was to joke around.

Even during games. When you and Viv would both sit on the bench, she made sure to sit next to you. When someone would try to squeeze in, she would subtly shift so she could keep her spot next to you.

When you were out with some of the girls, they noticed that Viv would place her hand on your arm or leg casually, like it was the most normal thing ever. It might be a normal thing for most people, but for you it wasn’t.

The girls had never seen you let anyone get so close to you, and they kept being amazed.  They couldn’t wrap their head around the fact that you let Viv be so clingy, while usually you didn’t even like when people touched you in general. Were you just letting it happen because you didn’t want to make Viv feel bad? Or were you enjoying it as much as she was?

It was the first movie night since Viv joined, that someone decided to voice their thoughts. The movie started and to no one's surprise, Viv sat down next to you. It didn’t take long for her to get comfortable and cuddle into your side, her legs resting on yours. 

About halfway through the movie, you got a call. “Sorry, I have to take this.” You whispered into Viv’s ear. Gently pulling your body away from underneath hers. Some of your teammates shot you questioning looks. “It’s okay, just keep playing the movie. I’ll be right back.”

You moved into the hallway of Jill’s apartment, closing the door behind you to block the noise that was coming from the living room before you picked up the phone.

Viv looked after you, sad to have lost the comfort that you were giving her. Alanna noticed the longing looks she was sending to the door. “Viv, do you really think she likes that you're so clingy?" The question came out rougher than intended, but Alanna went with it anyway.

Her head turned to Alanna and the rest of the girls. “Yeah, why wouldn’t she?” Viv asked with her brow slightly furrowed. Surely if you didn’t like her doing so, you would have told her by now.

The movie was paused and all attention was on your conversation now. “Well, it’s just that I’ve never seen her be touchy with anyone. In fact I’ve seen her push people off or tell them off when they’re touching her for too long.” 

Some of the girls chuckled, and Lauren added, “It’s commonly known that she doesn’t like it when people touch her.” A statement that came with a few nods from the rest of the girls.

Before you could say anything, Jill jumped in. “Yeah, well you guys don’t know y/n outside of City. I grew up with those two, they’ve always been like this.” 

Kerstin build up Jill’s point more. “Literally. When I joined them at the national team, I for real thought they were dating.”

Viv’s cheeks turn red at Kerstin’s words, peaking the interest of the team even further than the conversation about if you liked the clinginess or not.

You returned to the living room and all eyes were on you. It felt a little uneasy, so you quickly sat down next to Viv again. But instead of her leaning into your side like she usually did, she kept sitting up straight. It looked like she was actively making sure that she wasn’t touching you.

The whole situation felt awkward. The movie paused, and all eyes on you. Well, all eyes except Viv’s, who seemed to be ignoring you at all costs. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Jill exchanged a quick look with Alanne before speaking up, deciding it was best if she took the lead in answering. “We were just talking about how close you and Viv are. Nothing bad!” 

Your eyes narrowed at the addition of the ‘nothing bad’. No one ever added that when that was the case. 

"Right," Lauren added, trying to lighten the mood but failing miserably. "We were just saying it’s surprising—since you’re not usually, you know, touchy with anyone."

You look between them, a frown forming on your face. “Okay, and?” You didn’t like when people analysed you in the first place, but why did they have to bring Viv into it?

“Well,” Alanna spoke up after the rest of the team seemed to hesitate. “we were wondering if you’re actually okay with it. You don’t really let people touch you ever. But Jill said you two have been this way for ages, and that’s kind of where the conversation ended.”

Viv’s posture and refusal to meet your eye, suddenly made sense. They had said something to make her doubt herself, or even worse make her doubt you and your actions. 

“Seriously?” You snap at them, feeling the anger boil inside your chest. “Don’t you have something better to do than analyse who I let into my personal space?”

The team looked taken back, not expecting your anger. You realised it had come out sharper than intended, so after taking a deep breath, you softened your tone. “Look, I know I’m not the most affectionate person, but it’s Viv. I don’t mind Viv being clingy. And if you think for a second that I would let anyone do anything that I didn’t want, you don’t know me at all.”

The team knew very well that you knew you would stand your ground and not let anyone walk over you, so they should’ve realised that you would’ve also not let Viv do something you didn’t like. 

Finally Viv looked up at you, her fingers still fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie. “You really don’t mind?”

You shake your head and reach for her hand. “No, not at all. I like it even.” With a gentle tug at her hand, you pull her back into your side. 

The rest of the girls kept watching you, as you pulled Viv closer and wrapped your arm around her. “Can we please move on and continue watching this movie?” 

Viv lightly chuckled at the girls mumbling their sorry’s as they turned back to the TV. You squeeze her a little tighter. “Don’t let them get to your head. If you ever question something, please just come to me.” She nodded her head, and got comfortable again. 

-----

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[dduane]

(off the previous tags --

#I will die for those books #so incredible #Diane please finish the series #I beg you #I need to know how it ends #so you want to be a wizard #diane duane )

Please imagine all the following being stated in the kindest tone of voice possible:

(a) I'm not sure I understand what would make anybody think I've ever intended to "finish" this series. It was never from the very beginning planned with a concrete ending, and I'm certainly not thinking that way now. ...And trust me, when I do intend a series to have a concrete ending, that planning happens from the very start. I've known how this series was going to end, for example, since 1977. In fact, the ending was already plain to me by the time I finished the outline for the first book, let alone the first draft. When I choose to play the Long Game in its "hard ending" form, I don't equivocate about it, and—as a good screenwriter should—I play it hard.

In the wider sense, though: People seem to have gotten the idea over time—or to have been trained into it, possibly for marketing purposes?—that a series has to have a beginning, a middle and an end.

I don't think that's necessarily the case. (And honestly, who did make that take up? A question for another day. But the assumption's done a lot of authors a disservice, for reasons not germane to this particular discussion.) In my case, though, my plan is to continue writing Young Wizards books until I'm rendered no longer capable by mental or physical dysfunction, or by having inadvertently stopped breathing. ...I will say that YW 11 (currently in process) is intended as a place where people could, if they liked, decide that the series has ended. But the premise for YW 11 ends with the sentence "This book leaves the decks cleared for books 12 and 13, Wizards in Transit and The Wizard's Knot." So I wouldn't hold out much hope. 😏

(b) "I need to know how it ends." Well, wouldn't most of us be tempted to say that about a lot of things? ...Yet I can just hear Tom saying, "What, you mean like the story of what we laughably refer to as 'real life?' The best we get to see is what's happened. There's no judging what's ended until we've run out of all the time."

(c) Anyway: I know you were speaking in life-online idiom. But please don't die for these books. That's not a job I'd wish on anybody else. Live, and keep reading! (Not just my stuff, but others' too.) That's what makes this writer happiest. :)

Anyway: thanks for enjoying the books so much! It's heartening. Meanwhile, I have to get back to work. (goes off to get more tea)

rudolph the red nosed reindeer

[yearninflowers]

Imagine...

Sunday loving you so much.

Rumours will always surround every renowned person in the world, whether that someone is the nicest person ever or even the opposite of that. But somehow, for your friend, Sunday, whom almost everyone in Penacony City knows, the rumours surrounding him didn't always make a lot of sense. Shouldn't one or two be true, or at least close to a truth, though?

You eventually began to ask him frequently if something stirred in his community.

It was mostly just for fun, however.

“Sunny, is this true?”

And as always, he would smile, reassuring you that none of the rumours surrounding him were true.

Sunday would first laugh at the absurdity of the rumours before patting your head and telling you to always confirm where the rumours even started. If not most, then all of them were always coming from some unknown source and were just following to create even more nonsense, said him. That would shut you up real quick, not that you would start to distrust him if a rumour popped up.

However, one particular rumour shook you off quite a bit.

A rumour about him having relations with a cult. An anonymous sender had thrown out a couple of blurred pictures as ‘evidence’ and uploaded them to a fairly well-known account used to share anonymous messages.

It was absurd, but you still asked.

“Sunny,” you called out his name, your phone hovering open to the account that shared the rumour. Once your friend notices your call, you let him take a look at your phone. “There's a rumour saying you have relations with a cult; is it… uh, true?”

This time, Sunday didn't immediately smile. He didn't reassure you right away. His face looked unlike what you knew of him.

He... he looks scary—

It took at least a few seconds before he did his usual smile and reassured you that none of the rumours surrounding him were true. He began to laugh like always, patting your head like always, telling you to check the source like always.

And like always too, you believed him. After all, it's the usual absurd rumour, right?

Before you eventually swallow the whole rumour as wrong information, Sunday had a hard time keeping up his facade. His smile twitched unusually more, and his hands trembled unknowingly. It felt weird, the feelings inside his heart, but he wasn't too bothered by it. In fact, he even welcomed it.

Truth be told, it wasn't fear that was holding him restricted.

It was excitement.

Sunday is dying to let you know that you are his sole Providence, the only being in the whole world he would pray to. He could go days without stopping—not even a short rest—to bask in his devotion for you. He will gladly do anything to make you happy.

Unfortunately for him, you've yet to know of his faith; you're still so clueless about his blatant favouritism. It's alright, though; Sunday is quite keen on teaching his deity how to receive his love one day.

“It's quite a slander to accuse me of being in a cult," He let out a small laugh. "But I assure you, (Y/n), I would never be a part of something as eerie as that.”

After all, the only being he would ever worship is you.

But for now, he'll play the part of being your very perfect friend, slowly wrapping you into the warm embrace of divinity. You'll know soon enough that you are worth more than just being his 'friend'. You, yourself, are already surrounded by the evidence of his devotion in its truest form:

His love.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° always known that I would win this game

♡ a/n — for my childhood best friends to lovers series! ( listen to what i wrote to here ! )

♡ word count — 1.7k

♡ content — nagi seishiro x fem! reader, fem! reader, i leaned heavily into nagi thinking everything is a pain, very lazy nagi, probably ooc nagi, lowkey one-sided relationship, she falls first AND harder, reo mentioned a lot, lowkey reo keeps the relationship afloat, goes from when nagi and reader are 3 all the way to the U-20 game

♡ synopsis — Nagi Seishiro was like fireworks—beautiful, brilliant, and untouchable. You just hoped you wouldn't get burned trying to love him.

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were three years old, barely old enough to form sentences, but already filled with boundless energy. Your mother brought you along to a playdate with her coworker’s son, claiming the two of you might get along since you were close in age.

You didn’t know what “getting along” was supposed to look like, but when you saw Nagi for the first time—white hair sticking out in every direction, holding onto his mother’s leg like she was a lifeline—you decided that getting along meant trying to make him play.

You, a bundle of chaotic energy, bounded up to him with sticky hands from the lollipop you’d just devoured, grinning wide.

“Hi!” you chirped, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Wanna play with blocks?”

He stared at you like you were speaking a foreign language. For a moment, you thought maybe he didn’t know how to play. Or maybe he was shy.

“It’s a pain,” he mumbled, turning his head away from you.

You puffed up your cheeks, determined not to let him brush you off. “It’s fun! Come on, I’ll show you!”

Nagi sighed heavily—so heavily it made him sound much older than three years old—and shuffled behind you with a sluggishness that would come to define him.

Despite that, your mothers encouraged your budding friendship. Nagi, who found most things exhausting even as a child, didn’t like you at first. You talked too much, moved too much, asked too many questions—everything about you was “too much” for him. But for reasons he couldn’t explain, he tolerated you, enduring your antics when your families gathered for dinner.

He rarely smiled when you played with him, but he never told you to leave him alone either.

That was the start of everything.

By the time the two of you started kindergarten, you considered Nagi your best friend. He might not have agreed at first, but that didn’t matter to you.

You quickly made friends while Nagi sat alone at a desk, chin propped in his hand, waiting for the day to end. But then you came over, plopped yourself into the seat next to him.

“This is Nagi! He’s my bestest best friend!” you declared to the new friends you’d made during morning playtime.

Nagi blinked at you, startled, but didn’t protest. From that day on, Nagi Seishiro was stuck with you.

Middle school was a whirlwind of new experiences—at least for you.

Art club, yearbook, swimming team, gardening—you tried everything you could get your hands on. Nagi, on the other hand, never joined a single club. Instead, he discovered video games.

“Why don’t you try new things like me?” you asked one afternoon as the two of you walked home together. A club flyer fluttered in your hands while Nagi’s eyes stayed glued to the screen of his phone.

“Too much energy,” he replied simply.

“But it’s fun!” you said, exasperated. "Like this one! I'm going to join the chess club!" you smiled, holding up the chess club flyer you'd grabbed.

Nagi glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Do you even know how to play chess?”

You hesitated. “...No, but I can learn!”

“Why waste the time? You’ll drop it anyway.”

You stopped walking, the words sinking into your chest like a tiny thorn. He continued ahead without noticing, too focused on his game.

You jogged to catch up, huffing. “Because I like trying. That’s the point," you sighed. "And it's fun!"

That was your reason for everything.

High school arrived, and true to form, you didn’t stick with any clubs. By then, Nagi had moved out of his parents’ house into his own apartment. It was strange, not having him just a block away anymore.

You hated the distance but tried not to complain—he still came over whenever you asked, still lounged on your bed like it was his own.

One evening, as he sat on your bed, phone in hand, you shoved another bag of discarded club items into your closet. “At least I tried!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms as you glanced at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He didn’t even look up from his game.

You rolled your eyes. “Sei, do you always have to be playing something? You even do it in class!”

“Listening to the teacher is tiring…”

“Why don’t you do something at school? Like join a club?”

He shrugged. “What’s the point? It’s a pain.”

“You’ll regret it when you’re older. What are you going to tell your kids? That you were lazy?”

“Our kids,” he mumbled.

“Huh?”

Nagi didn’t even flinch, eyes still focused on his screen. “I’ve only ever thought about having kids with you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “Nagi Seishiro! You can’t just… say stuff like that!”

“Huh? But I like you.” He finally glanced up, tilting his head.

You sputtered, feeling your face burn. “I— You don’t—you can’t just—!”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted lazily. “If it’s too much work, you don’t have to like me back.”

“I love you!” you blurted, before immediately slapping a hand over your mouth. “Wait! I didn’t mean—I mean, I did, but—”

Nagi sighed, locking his phone and rolling over on your bed like he’d just finished a long shift. “Mhm. Good.”

Good? Good?!

Your heart felt like it was about to combust, but Nagi had already closed his eyes as if you hadn’t just confessed your feelings, clearly deciding the conversation was over.

Dating Nagi wasn’t what you’d imagined. In the beginning, it was wonderful—texting late into the night, stolen kisses in quiet hallways—but slowly, things began to change. He stopped meeting you for lunch, stopped walking home with you. He even stopped inviting you over.

It wasn’t until you dropped by his apartment unexpectedly one afternoon to return a borrowed game that you realized why. A purple-haired boy opened the door.

“Oh! Sorry, I must have the wrong place,” you said awkwardly.

“Wait! If you’re looking for Nagi, he’s here,” the boy replied. “I’m Reo, by the way.”

You blinked. Reo? A friend? You hadn’t known Nagi had made one. Your heart ached at the realization that this stranger was closer to Nagi than you were.

Reo led you inside, where Nagi sat on the couch, engrossed in his phone.

“Reo? Who was it?”

“Your girlfriend,” Reo replied, smirking. Girlfriend. The word felt foreign. Nagi rarely called you that.

Nagi glanced up, his expression unreadable. “Did you need something?”

You held up the game case. “Just returning this. I liked it, thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Really? Didn’t think you’d like it,” he said, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“Sei! Someone’s here!” you whispered, flustered as you looked towards Reo.

“It’s just Reo. He doesn’t care,” Nagi replied as he leaned in to give you another kiss. Reo chuckled, ignoring the two of you for his own phone “You should come watch us play soccer next week. We’ve got a game.”

“Soccer?” you echoed.

“Yeah. Didn’t he tell you? He’s been playing for weeks.”

You looked at Nagi in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Forgot,” he mumbled.

"Don't worry," You smiled, running a hand through Nagi's hair. "I'll be there."

Of course you'd be there for Nagi, you always were.

When Nagi received his Blue Lock invitation, he didn’t tell you. You only found out when Reo mentioned it during one of your visits.

“Leaving in a week,” Reo said casually, handing Nagi a bus ticket.

“Huh? Where are you going?” You asked. Was the soccer team having a team trip? Were they going to have a boys day? Did boys even have boys days?

“Blue Lock,” Nagi replied as if it explained everything.

Reo took pity on your confusion, explaining the program and its purpose. “It’s a big deal for soccer players,” he said with pride.

You turned to Nagi. “That's awesome Sei! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Forgot.”

For the first time in your relationship - your entire friendship - , the weight of those words felt unbearable.

When Nagi left for Blue Lock, all you got was a text.

‘Leaving now, see you l8r. :x’

You stared at your phone, the message making your heart drop. That was it? He hadn’t even called to say goodbye.

Still, you smiled to yourself as you typed your reply. This was Nagi, your 'Sei' , of course a phone call would drain him of energy.

‘I love you! Please be safe and take care of yourself. Text me when you’re there if you can?’

The response was instant.

‘Sure. Love you.’

Even so, as the days passed, his absence settled heavily on you.

When Nagi entered Blue Lock, safe to say, he forgot to text you back. He’d gotten his phone back pretty quickly, and with Reo around, he had someone to talk to.

You simply slipped his mind.

It wasn’t until Reo asked about you one day during a meal that your name came back up.

“How’s your girlfriend doing?” Reo asked as he reached for his drink.

Nagi paused mid-bite. “Dunno. I haven’t asked.”

Reo stared at him incredulously. “You haven’t asked? What do you mean you haven’t asked?”

“Who are you guys talking about?” Zantetsu asked, peering at them like they were some exotic birds.

“Nagi’s girlfriend. Who he needs to text, by the way,” Reo said sharply. “She’s probably worried about you.”

Nagi sighed, pulling out his phone. “I will.”

He texted you a simple message: ‘Safe. Just got my phone back.’ A small lie, but that was okay.

Your reply came almost immediately: ‘Thank goodness! I was so worried about you, but of course you’re okay. Have fun and text me whenever you can. I love you!’

He stared at your message for a moment, then replied: ‘Love you. Will do.’

“There. I texted her,” he said, glancing at Reo, who was shaking his head in exasperation.

Months passed with sporadic texts and one-sided conversations. You watched Nagi play in the U-20 match, awestruck by his skill.

He was like fireworks—beautiful, brilliant, and untouchable. After the game, you waited on the field, hoping to catch a moment with him.

When Nagi appeared, he was with Reo, laughing about something. He didn’t notice you until Reo nudged him.

“Your girlfriend’s here,” Reo said softly.

Nagi turned, his expression unreadable. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said, forcing a smile.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Of course I did.”

Nagi stared at you for a moment before stepping closer, his hand brushing yours. “Thanks.”

You stood there, watching him. He was here, yet he felt so far away. You didn’t know what hurt more—the thought of losing him, or the thought that maybe, just maybe, he was already gone.

idk if i liked this one but i wrote it at 3AM so we all have to suffer

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[cherry-smokes]

Don’t you want me baby?

AKA Steve doesn’t want you to meet his parents and you start spiraling Pairing: Steve Harrington x bassist!reader Word count: 1.2K Warnings: hurt/comfort because Steve is just too into Sugar to let her hurt too long.

You’ve always known you weren’t a ‘bring home to the parents’ kind of girl. Frankly you took a lot of pride in it. At the end of the day you didn’t want to meet the people who created the assholes you’ve dated before. Them not offering just took the pressure off your shoulders. Relationships were always just a fleeting, sometimes fun thing. Most guys got bored after realizing they prefer to be the rockstar instead of the groupie.

You’ve denied yourself the desire for love for a long time. It didn’t feel tangible before. So why would you plague yourself with the disappointment of not being enough for someone. It was easier to live that way.

Steve made you feel different. Steve made you feel like that part of you which you had locked away for so long finally had a space to run free. That you weren’t an idiot for thinking that there truly was someone out there who would love you unconditionally. It feels too soon to say that but you couldn’t stop the freight train that was Steve Harrington from crashing into the brick wall you had built around your heart.

That’s probably why this all hurts so much.

It hadn’t even felt like a big deal to you at the time.

“I could just meet you at your place?”

“Oh…no, no I’ll come pick you up.”

“You always pick me up, let me drive. I wanna take care of you this time.” it came out teasingly. With that goddamn smile that made Steve’s knees buckle and his heart beat so strong he could feel it all the way up to his shoulders.

“No just- I’ll pick you up”

“Do you think I’m a bad driver or something?”

He chuckled at that. “Considering the fact that Eddie taught you to drive, I’m doubtful of your abilities.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve never gotten a single ticket. So you should let me treat my pretty boy to a night out and let me make him my passenger princess for once.”You grab his face and kiss him sweetly. Teeth against teeth as you both smile, but his fades faster than yours does.

“My parents are home this weekend, you don’t want deal with them.”

“Who said I didn’t want to deal with them?”

“They’re a lot.”

“Well, so am I.”

“I just think it’s better if I pick you up, yeah?”

You’ve never had a smile wiped off your face so fast. You nod and lean away from him.

“Sure, whatever you want.”

Steve makes you feel…soft. Had it been any other guy this would have never bothered you, but Steve wasn’t any other guy. He was someone you had grown to really care for. Someone you actually saw a future with, or wanted to at least. So him not wanting you to meet his parents felt like a bad omen.

If we’re closer to your family, physically and in any other sense, you would have introduced Steve to them in a heart beat. The closest thing you had to that was Eddie and the guys, and Steve had already met them.

So yeah. This was a pretty big fucking deal to you. You know the kind of girls he’s dated before. Prim and proper. The kind of girls who go on to be beauty queens or valedictorians. That never bother you before, but now you’re thinking about every reason why he wouldn’t want you to meet his folks.

Your reputation isn’t…polished. You’re abrasive, and overwhelming to some people. You hang out with ‘freaks’ and you make a living off of playing in dive bars and bartending. None of that really screams ‘life long partner.’

Maybe that’s what he’s looking for. Maybe you’re just a stepping stone for him. Some crazy story he can tell his Wall Street friends one day when he finally decides to give into his father’s wishes.

You wish all of this wasn’t running through your mind right now. Sat on your couch with Steve’s arm around you. You feel tense. Like you don’t really fit next to him. It’s been this way all night. At dinner, in the car, even at the door step to your apartment when he asked if you wanted to watch a movie instead of calling it a night.

You know what’s coming. He’s too attentive to not notice. You’ve seen how he’s cowered into himself all night and the way his eyebrows have drawn together as you brush off his affection.

You don’t want to be cruel, but you get mean when you’re hurt. You’ve never known anything else. You wish you knew a better way to deal with it but you don’t and you can’t look at this man who makes you burn and lie to him like you have to others.

So when he asks you what’s wrong you can’t bring yourself to say it’s nothing.

“Are you ashamed to be with me?”

You feel it then. His arm tenses up and it moves away from around your shoulders as he leans back to look at you.

“What?”

“I know you heard me don’t make me repeat myself.”

He looks genuinely confused. Like he can’t understand why you’re asking this.

“Why would I be ashamed of you?”

“I don’t know Steve, you tell me.”

He looks you dead in the eyes. The weight of his gaze makes you feel heavy, like you’re sinking into yourself.

“I’m not ashamed of you I l-you know how I feel about you.”

You want to believe him. You want to so badly. You want to nod and agree and curl into his side so he’ll kiss your neck and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you forget every horrible thing that’s ever happened to you both. But you can’t.

“You don’t want me to meet your parents.”

“No. I don’t.”

He’s like one of those Greek statues you see in museums. Gorgeous, and strong. The way he says it is…steadfast. One of the loveliest things about Steve is that he is stubborn…now it feels like one of the worst.

You don’t want to cry in front of him. You don’t want embarrass yourself so you choke it down like everything else and turn towards your television screen.

“Ok then.”

You rack through your brain trying to decide if you want to kick him out kicking and screaming or just let him go on his own. Before you can decide, his hand is on your face and he’s turning you towards him. His grip on your chin is tender but strong. Just like him.

“I can see those gears turning in your head. It’s not because I’m ashamed of you.”

Your eye twitches like it always does when you’re confused. He fucking adores it.

“You’re stubborn, and loud, and probably too honest for your own good. You’re…vulgar, and brilliant and you drive me fucking insane and you’re too goddamn good for my parents. They wouldn’t know what to do with you, I don’t know what to do with you but I’m so fucking thankful you’re letting me figure it out. I just want to keep you to myself so I can woo you long enough to not run away when you do meet them.”

Your bottom lip trembles. You’re thankful he doesn’t point out the quiver in your voice when you finally speak up.

“I’m not that stubborn.”

His smile is golden. You let him drag you into him as he presses his lips against yours. You want to savor it and keep him there forever but you can’t stop his hand moving from your chin and grabbing at your hair as he pulls your head back so he can he trail sweet pecks against your cheek and down your neck.

“Whatever you say Sugar.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tiny little angsty blurb for you guys<3

[shadow-kid-cole]

ok i didnt think this would get. any amount of notes. but i’m still thinking about this and the idea of all your secrets laid bare regardless of how you feel about it and, in fact, maybe without your knowledge depending on how lost in the prison you are. we saw with inner demons (and with quests from other games, such as the one with feynriel in da2) that when people are stuck in the fade it’s very much the same as being stuck in their own minds (as above so below, fade reflects reality, etc etc.)they often don’t see the same thing as others. they may not even know that they’re trapped, or might not be able to tell what’s real or not.

depending on who your rook is, there’s so many different ways this could go. how long would it take them to realize, what would be the missing piece that makes everything click into place, how would they react? what would they feel? guilt, shame, anger, even a misplaced sense of betrayal as a protective instinct against the sudden realization of unwilling vulnerability? if they’re already someone without the resilience or adaptability to confront their regrets and escape on their own, chances are they’re not the best at handling their emotions to begin with.

my rook, for example, has a tenuous grip on reality in the first place. i decided that if they’ve been hallucinating varric all this time, which other people from past traumas might they be hallucinating? they’ve spent most of their life hallucinating their dead sister, people they’ve killed, people that have wronged them and vice versa. i think being pulled into the regret prison - and hearing the voices of their companions confirming every insecurity they’ve ever had to boot - would completely break their sense of reality. it would take a Lot of convincing to even get them to go with the team, to even try to escape - because for all they know, multiple people are dead and those that lived hate them. these kind visions of their friends aren’t real. it’s just the same as it’s always been. what’s a few more ghosts to haunt them? (as a lucanis romancer, i think my rook fully believes he’s dead and that’s the last straw that makes them truly give up, and it’s only once he’s there, close enough to actually make physical contact, that my rook could even let themself think about the possibility of hoping none of this is real.)

even after everything, i think my rook would have one moment of true vulnerability, knowing that their team knows everything and has seen them at their worst, and they hate it but everyone’s still here, so they let themself cry and be fussed over and then the moment they’re back at the lighthouse they hide from all that as much as they can and absolutely do not mention it ever again.

but that’s honestly best case scenario. for another rook, how might the guilt and shame of the mortifying ordeal of being known manifest for them? some might handle it well, let themselves love and be loved in return, might secretly be grateful they don’t have to do the hard work of revealing things themselves. others, though. others might react like a feral animal offered a gentle hand in its worst moment, and we all know how that goes.

thinking about the cage for gods quest and a rook that might be too lost in regret to make it out on their own (a la inner demons) and the team having to figure out not only how to tear open the fade but go through the layers of their rook’s psyche as challenges to finally find them frightened and alone and bring them home while experiencing every horrible thing that’s ever happened to them that they never told anyone about along the way. something something keeping your distance as a leader only for your team to witness every horrible broken part of you and rescue you anyway. if you even care.

[sammyluvr]

✶ out of my head — spencer reid

cw : gn!bau!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, mental exhaustion, very little dialogue, unedited, 985 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a motel bathroom + “i can’t get you out of my head.”

the town is small, the case is hard, and the nights aren’t restful. for this week, it’s two to a seedy motel room. spencer’s your roommate this time around, which helps nothing at all. you should be used to how beautiful he looks when he’s sleepy and just woken up in the morning, but it makes your chest tighten to the point where you nearly stop breathing. it’s not as if you haven’t shared a room with him for a case before, but there’s some weird intimacy about sharing this room.

he’s in the bathroom, washing his hands, as he’s been doing often this trip. the first time you walked into the room with him, go-bags heavy after a long flight, he sprouted off some statistic regarding the cleanliness of motel rooms, or rather the lack thereof. you think he was trying to cover up how nervous it made him, and you offered to take his sheets and blanket to the laundromat you passed. the signage had told you that it’s always open late. you certainly wouldn’t mind extra clean sheets either.

he refused, though, saying he’d do it himself if he really needed to, and that you shouldn’t have to do that for him. but you don’t really think about it in terms of should or shouldn’t, more so that it makes you glad to do anything for him at all. you stay quiet though, and let this one slide. as long as he sleeps alright, it’s fine with you. 

sleeping well is a relative term, of course. it’s two in the morning right now, and you’ve just gotten back from the station. hotch sent you all to bed after a break in the case. the night shift detectives will keep working until you all get at least a bit of rest.

you drift over to the bathroom, its warm light casting spencer’s form in soft shadow. he hears your sigh before your quiet footsteps, and turns his neck to look at you. he gives you a soft smile, drying his hands on the small towel. you try not to stare; he has very pretty hands.

“hey,” he murmurs, making no move to leave the bathroom. he can tell by the way you padded over that you don’t actually need the room for anything. that, and you used it and brushed your teeth first thing after getting back. you’ve already donned your sleep clothes, too. you move forward, and he steps back, leaving room for you at the sink. the heels of your hands meet the cool ceramic of the sink as you lean against it, facing him from less than a foot away. the bathroom most definitely is not a generous size.

“hey,” you echo, voice just as soft as his. to him, you sound even more tired than usual. resigned, even. he’s trying to decide if you’ll respond decently to him asking if you’re okay. you speak again before he can decide. “spence?”

“yeah?” he wants to call you honey, but he doesn’t. but the way you say his name is begging for him to respond with equal sweetness and intimacy. or maybe honey is doubly sweet and intimate, but to him, your voice saying his nickname like that is the same as if you called him baby. he’s shy, but he wishes you’d call him that.

you look at him with sad eyes and he wishes that look would go away. i can’t get you out of my head, you want to say. “i’m tired,” is what comes out, anticlimactic and falling flat on the tile floor.

but his eyes fill with sympathy regardless and he gives a little frown on your behalf. even if you were going to say something else, the words that leave your lips are just as true. you are tired, very much so. not just from the case or the lumpy bed, but from everything, you suppose. it’s a bone deep type of exhaustion, and somehow your growing love for him is the only thing you can think about these days. it’s pressing to get out and make itself known, and now it feels heavy and oppressive.

“it’s been a long day,” spencer agrees. he knows how you feel, at least in terms of the exhaustions, and that it’s really not about just today. but he also knows that you know that, and that there’s not much to say. not right now, at least. it’s not the time for that sort of conversation, he can tell.

you swallow, suddenly nervous. you’re asking yourself why the hell you walked into this damn bathroom, put yourself so close to him without the option to actually close the distance. but you sort of just want to hug him. you want to get it off your chest, because you think it’ll make some of the exhaustion go away. though things could certainly get worse.

“i can’t get you out of my head, you know.” this time, the words slip out before you can stop them. you’re not sure if it’s the right thing to say, the right way to tell him, but you suppose the meaning is implied and that you’ve gone out and said it, finally. that makes your shoulders drop, and a relieved huff of breath leaves your lips. even if he doesn’t feel the same, at least you’ve said it.

most other days, spencer would’ve kissed you, maybe after clumsily telling you that he can’t get you out of his head either. but today, you’re sagging and tired, so he pulls you into his arms with a certain sort of ease that tells you he doesn’t mind being close to you. he likes it, even. he presses a kiss to the bare skin of your forehead, and that’s your answer. he’ll stay stuck in your head, but it will be far more bearable because he loves you back.

[just-call-me-by-yn]

MIDNIGHT DANCER - spencer reid crucial time | chapter 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x stripper!fem!reader Content warning: swearing, canonically inaccurate Spencer, mentions of murder, mentions of adult activities - stripping, cliffhanger ending. Word count: ~1.6k Summary: The one where you are a suspect in an ongoing investigation. a/n: this is part one of a series! It will get spicier in later chapters! Hope you enjoy it. 💗

The knocking on your door was sudden. It was loud as well, which was unusual and odd, one could even say strange. It was also scary since you lived in a neighborhood that wasn’t exactly known for its safety. This could be trouble, you thought. An alarm started going off in your head. Did you owe someone money? No, at least not from what you could recall. So who could it possibly be? Lurking through the peephole made your whole body go stiff for a split second. Two men in FBI jackets standing at your front door definitely wasn’t on your bingo card. Suddenly it hit you. Peter Bailey. A big grin appeared on your face as you unlocked the door and swung it open.

“Hey! How can I help you?” You needed to bite on your lip simply to stop the smile.

“Y/n y/l/n?” you immediately nodded when your name rolled smoothly off of the agent's tongue as both of them showed you their badges. “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid and this is Agent Emily Prentiss. You seem to be unaware why we’re here…”

“Oh no, I know. It's about one wealthy businessman in trouble.” You crook your head to the side, finally setting the smirk free. The agents looked at each other with a slight touch of confusion in their eyes. Finally the Prentiss woman spoke.

“We’d like to take you to the police station.” She pushed her hair to the back.

“Okay. Just a second, let me grab my purse-” You turned your torso around, but a hand suddenly appeared on your shoulder.

“Agent Prentiss will get it for you and you can come with me,” When you turned back around a frown that appeared on your face made agent Reid remove his hand and calm you down with “We have a protocol to follow.”

“Right,” your tone was calm and collected as you slid your shoes on. 

Something wasn’t right though, and a voice in your head kept telling you that, but it was almost like water off a duck’s back to you. Though there was something about your ex lover being held accountable for his actions, that made you feel very proud of yourself for initiating his downfall, however you couldn’t help, but to worry. Not about him, to hell with him in all honesty, but about the fact that the FBI was currently escorting you to their car.

The whole car ride, the agents were quiet, and, so were you. It wasn’t the most comfortable silence you’ve been in, but it wasn’t awfully awkward either. It just existed between you and the other two people in the vehicle, but every time you tried to start a conversation you seemed to bite yourself in the tongue. Why should you be the one to speak up first?

The male agent kept glancing at you every now and then through the rear view mirror, challenging you, like he wanted you to keep eye contact with him. Maybe it was unintentional, but you couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to mess with him a little. One thing everyone knew about you was that you don’t shy away from boldness and staring eye to eye with a hot FBI agent wouldn’t kill you.

You started acting like you accidentally gazed at the mirror out of the blue, once,  then over and over again. You couldn’t help but notice his big, hazel puppy eyes, and the fact that he started glancing at the road more often after he caught you staring back, like he was scared he would cause a road collision if he kept looking into your eyes any longer. At that very moment a wide grin appeared on your face again, but not for the last time that night.

When you arrived at the police department parking lot, you didn’t even have time to process that you already arrived at the destination, before the door of the car was wide opened for you by none other than Doctor Reid himself.

“Come on,” he hurried you, as he motioned with his head for you to get out of the vehicle. Which you weren’t going to lie, threw you off in a way. Why were the white collar crimes of Peter Bailey something that needed to be dealt with, so urgently?

As soon as you exited the car, to your surprise Prentiss appeared by your side and Reid was rushing for the door before you. Another thing you didn’t expect was the sudden want to check him out from behind. His jacket rolled up as he moved, making you unable to stop yourself from looking at his bottom. After all, you were just a girl.

When you finally stepped through the threshold, everyone’s eyes were on you. Every single person in the room stopped what they were doing, just to look at you. Most of them with blank facial expressions, but some with a little disgust, which they were trying to contain. It wasn’t your first rodeo, so you still held your head high.

They directed you into the interrogation room, where there was already a blonde woman sitting on one of the chairs.

“Hello, I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau, but everyone calls me JJ.” She said looking you up and down with no emotions written on her face whatsoever.

“Hi, JJ.” You blurted, narrowing your eyes.

“I didn’t say you could call me that.” Something about her demeanor towards you gave you chills. On top of that, unfortunately, the room matched the coolness of her voice.

You barely stopped your eyes from rolling in time. Whatever her deal was, you were not bothered. You sat down on the chair exactly in front of her. 

“Tell us, where were you at approximately 2:40 am yesterday?” The voice of Spencer Reid came from right behind you, making you shiver. What was going on?

“At work… dancing?” your voice seemed way more defensive than what you wished for it to sound. ”But what does it have to do with anything related to that bastard?”

“He was murdered.” Jareau’s input made you stare at the ground for a split second stunned, but then you started awkwardly giggling, which quickly turned into an almost maniacal laughter. After a minute you abruptly stopped and took in a large breath of stale air.

“And you think I killed the motherfucker. Wow,” you placed your hands on your chest while the blonde crossed her arms and fell deeper into the chair. “Honestly, all fair, it was a good guess. You can do better though”

You crossed your legs under the table and bit your lower lip. It felt like a fever dream to you, this didn’t even feel real. He was dead, and nothing felt more like karma to you. Although you wanted to make him pay for what he did, one way or the other, it never even crossed your mind once, to take his life. He wasn’t worth sitting years behind bars, but here you were, sitting in the interrogation room, as a suspect. 

“You see, I didn’t have the best relations with him, ever since I found out he had a wife and children. Yes, I wanted to make him pay; however, I found another way to arrange that, but the FBI white-collar crimes department was slacking,” A loud sigh left your lips. “Check the club’s tapes, for fuck’s sake.”

“Our team is doing that right now,” Jennifer assured you. She wasn’t your biggest fan, but it’s alright since you weren't hers either. The way she spoke seemed very much like she had already decided that you were the unsub, though she knew very well that everyone is innocent until proven guilty in the eyes of the law.

Spencer walked around the table and leaned on it slightly, so his face was right in front of yours.

“You have to believe me for now, that I am not the one,” you moved a bit closer to his face, the whisper you let out was almost silent, just for him to hear. It felt like a secret somehow, even if you wanted to shout it out for everyone to know, for now, one person was enough.  “I wanted him to taste how awful life is, but someone else got their hands dirty, I promise.”

“Who do you think could possibly want to murder Peter Bailey?” Spencer whispered back in his soft voice looking deep into your eyes, hoping to himself he wouldn’t get lost in them.

“I doubt it was his wife and you probably already background checked her, messy divorce caused by infidelity, he had an affair with… well me. Though we hang out sometimes, me and her that is. I know it’s kind of odd. I am getting a little sidetracked, anyways, I don’t know any other person who could-”

Suddenly a door flung open, making you jump slightly. Agent Prentiss was standing there still holding the handle in one of her hands.

“We’ve got a call in, someone claims they have witnessed an attack,” she seemed out of breath “the victim didn’t survive, same mo.”

“Do we know the name?” Agent Jareau stood up and smoothed out her shirt.

“Jasper Finley,” If you were standing you would have lost your footing. Everything started spinning.

“That’s- that’s my best friend.” Was all you could have said at that time. You closed your eyes, as your vision became blurry because your eyes were brimmed with tears.

tag list: @mariechristine00 ; @spencersbabymama ; @whitedovebby ; @mggslover ; @beesin03 ; @esote-rika ; @brattyspence ; @xxmooxmooxx

comment if you want to be added to a tag list! <3

check out my masterlist -> here ♥︎

[amvpk01]

Hello!!!Just wanted to say i really like your unwanted obsession series ...u write in such a way that it seems quite realistic ..i really admire your way of writing✨💖

If requests are open

can I please request a yandere childhood friend x f reader non con..

Thank u ! Have a nice day💖

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

» 𝐒𝐇𝐄 drifted from his life like a fleeting thought, while he, lost in the permanence of his own neglect, failed to grasp that love, once forsaken, cannot simply endure by the will of one.

» 𝐓𝐖: implicit non-con, obsession, negligence, rejection, violence, mention of cheating, manipulation, emotional dependence, no comfort.

» 𝐅𝐄𝐌 reader

sorry for the long wait! i'm planning to rewrite 'unwanted obsession' in my new writing. it might take a while bcs i'm studying to get into university, but i'll try my best to post it soon!

yandere childhood friend who has known you since you were children, you fell into the same lesson group and soon became close to each other! thought you were cute from the start. you were so nice to him that he couldn't help but reciprocate your kindness.

yandere childhood friend who grew up around many friends but you were the one he trusted the most and told all his secrets to except one in particular.

yandere childhood friend who realized how difficult it was for you to let people into your life, your only friend being him. he loved the fact that he was the only one you paid attention to.

yandere childhood friend who slowly spent more time with his other friends, and then you followed him everywhere like a dog. it was all you could do to not be alone. but you noticed how his friends were too weird, the atmosphere seemed heavy and you wanted nothing more than to get him out of there.

yandere childhood friend who didn't like how you meddled in his life, making him think you were jealous of him for not being able to be friendly. he would sometimes ignore your calls and messages for days and then show up out of nowhere with the excuse that he was just having fun with his friends.

yandere childhood friends who quickly noticed your change of mood regarding his actions. you just realized that you didn't like the fact that he acted that way and wasn't punished. you started to be ignorant and impatient, as if you were fed up with him.

yandere childhood friend who started asking you out, to talk, to do anything. didn't you want to spend time with him? he's free now and can stay with you as long as you wants! just stop being rude to him, please?

yandere childhood friend who despaired when you didn't want to know about him. something like 'i'm too busy to care' or something like that.

yandere childhood friend who kept stalking you on social media until he found out that you were actually busy with your new boyfriend. has he neglected you for so long that you even got a boyfriend? how did he not notice?

yandere childhood friend who died of jealousy inside and soon thought of all the ways to make you break up. he wouldn't accept that you weren't with him.

"please, you know i'm sorry."

"you always say the same thing, sorry this, sorry that, blah blah blah. can't you think of something new?"

"this wasn't supposed to happen, i swear i didn't mean to hurt you."

"hurt me? you keep saying that but you humiliated me in front of your friends, just when i was ready to listen to you!"

"i know and i apologize for that. it was just the heat of the moment that i couldn't think of anything straight."

"you kissed me, LUKA! i'm faithful to my boyfriend! how do you expect me to explain a situation like this to him?"

"you don't need to-"

"what?"

"you don't need to explain yourself..."

"you must be insane. i'm leaving, i hope you enjoy your special night mocking at me with your friends."

"no! don't go! please, i need you!"

"never talk to me again, we're not friends anymore."

yandere childhood friend who couldn't think straight. there was no way it could go wrong, his friends had already taken the picture of the two of you kissing, he just needed to be sure that your boyfriend would see the picture.

yandere childhood friend who pulled you by the wrists into his arms before your figure disappeared through the door. your body shivered in shock as you didn't understand what he was doing.

yandere childhood friend that pulled you further and further from the exit, determined to take you with him.

yandere childhood friend who ignored your screams as he took you to a separate room. he was finally going to have you after all these years!

yandere childhood friend who didn't understand why you woke up so depressed the next day. you were screaming his name so much last night that it didn't cross his mind that you didn't like it.

yandere childhood friend who was startled when he heard your sobs and quickly went to comfort you, only to see that you flinched at his touch. your tears only got worse as you just wanted to be alone at that moment.

yandere childhood friend who served you a plate of breakfast in bed and left you alone locked in the room for the rest of the morning. only to come back with your phone in his hands saying that your boyfriend already knew what you had done and blocked you.

yandere childhood friend who smirked when he saw you quickly search through your chats with him only for you to see two single messages saying 'she's satisfied now' with a picture of him hugging your sleeping body. his profile with no picture showing he had blocked you not before saying 'enjoy you two motherfuckers'.

yandere childhood friend who didn't care when you grabbed his collar in anger, yelling at him for anything he did wrong. he will show you how he can make you happy, with him.

[fangirl-erdariel]

Okay I know no one actually cares but I think it's interesting how this feels like one of those things that's super dependent on the fandom?

Like, for example, in Tolkien fandom, by my experience... the unnamed wives/sisters/daughters (and technically other unnamed characters, but let's be real those are the most common type) tend to get treated as a bit of a separate thing. Like. yeah. realistically in practice, the difference between a character who is mentioned by their relation to another character or something like that, but is not named, does not actually appear in any kind of meaningful way in the story, and absolutely nothing is known about them, and an OC, is... negligible if not nonexistent. But I do feel like they get treated/seen differently in the fandom, like even by people who are totally cool with OCs and enjoy playing with them, the reaction and takeaway to someone going "oh i'm writing a fic about my OC who's a Gondorian noblewoman during the War of the Ring/an elf from Eregion/a sailmaker in the Havens of Sirion" is different than if someone's like "i'm gonna write a fic about Isildur's wife/one of Anárion's daughters/the prince of Cardolan who was buried in the barrow that the hobbits were caught in", like the latter are considered a bit different from OCs even though both of these would be equally made up by the writer

but at the same time in a lot of other fandoms I'm in, those both would be just considered OCs. Like if I were to say in the Musketeers fandom that I'm gonna write a fic heavily featuring Constance's brothers (she mentions having brothers like... once? i think? and no further info on them is ever given), or if I said in BBC Merlin fandom that I'm gonna write a fic about Gwen and Elyan's mother. people would probably be like "oh okay you're writing OC fic", like their reaction wouldn't be any different to me saying i'm gonna write fic about an OC who doesn't happen to be connected to another character in that kind of way

and yeah idk i think it's genuinely interesting how that works. But that question abt whether it's an OC or not really depends on what fandom you're talking about

[hyuneskkami]

❪ ⭑ ❫ just a little bit───tsukishima kei.

ꕀ synopsis 𓈒𓈒 a crazy assistant manager/part-time assistant coach + an annoyed blocker on the same volleyball team + only one bed in their hotel room = disaster! (…or maybe not?)

[ ✮ ] masterlist ∿ fem!reader ∿ wc 2.3k ⋆ cw 𓈒𓈒 reader is older than most of the characters (only by a few months). fluff. childhood friends who bicker to lovers. losers in love. no one actually confesses bc they’re both stupid. songfic. both tsukki and reader have glasses. banter. sizzling tension. skinship. cuddling. older!reader x younger!tsukki (age gap is just six months). stray kids and suki waterhouse music mentioned.

ꕀ notes. thin frame glasses wearer tsukki!agenda + jewellery wearer tsukki!agenda <3

[ ✮ ] just a little bit ~ enhypen 𝄢

“god. you’re so insufferable!”

“and you’re kinda stupid! are we complaining? no, we aren’t!”

“who scored higher on last week’s test? hm?”

“…”

“why are you so quiet suddenly? huh?!”

“why do they literally fight like kindergarteners?” suga sighed.

daichi nodded. “we can’t do anything though. she’s our best assistant manager ever, and he’s one of our best blockers. I wish they could get along better.”

“just sit down, guys, please,” asahi begged.

“if you won’t give me the window seat, i’ll just sit on you,” I warned tsukki. he seemed unbothered, as if silently saying ‘as if you’d do that’. his growing smirk was magnificently taunting. “you’ve known me for years, tsukki. you know i’ll do it.” I taunted.

when he didn’t reply, pretending to look out the window of the bus, I shuffled closer and plopped down onto his lap. I felt him freeze below me.

I turned around to face him. “what? didn’t think i’d actually do it? I want the window seat, and i’m not giving it up.”

he looked up at me. his glasses were low on his nose, so I unconsciously pushed them up with one of my fingers. his cheeks were beginning to get dusted in light pink, as he turned away again.

⌞controlling my universe like it’s on my hand… ⌝

“jesus, okay— move— i’ll get up,” he muttered. I breathed out a chuckle of satisfaction, and stood up. I moved out so he could too, and we switched places ending with me in the window seat and a grumbling tsukishima beside me.

“see, I knew you had some sense left in you, kid,” I said, rubbing salt in his wound. he hated when I called him a ‘kid’ just because I was six months older than him.

instead of retorting, he just rolled his eyes and pulled his earphones upto his ears, resuming his music, completely ignoring me. I smirked at the faint blush on the side of his neck.

⌞even people’s hearts seemed to be more obvious yeah...⌝

I took my headphones, reading book and sketchbook out of my bag and tucked it in under my seat after closing every zip.

it was a long bus ride to the training camp in osaka, and I had fallen asleep at some point.

when I woke up, my head was on something soft. I turned a bit to my side to be met with tsukishima’s sleeping face. I realised that our heads had been laying against each other’s.

he still hadn’t woken up, so I put my head back against his, and fell asleep again.

꒰🏐꒱﹒ timeskip ﹒⟢ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

I was still asleep, when I began hearing some buzzing and some click!s. I opened my eyes to see the karasuno boys gathered around me, snapping pictures. confused, I looked around and realised that tsukishima and I were still resting our heads on the other.

his head now lolled on my shoulder, and I glared at the team. I tapped gently on his head to wake him up.

“tsukki? we’re here,” I whispered. in my periphery, I saw the boys exchanging glances.

“5 more minutes, n/n, please,” he groaned.

“we’re not at home, kei,” I grumbled at him. “we’re at osaka already.”

“wha— oh my god, I forgot about the-” he sat up suddenly. “-training camp.”

“yeah, yeah, get your stuff and let’s move.”

the boys started getting off the bus one after the other, and tsukki and I got down last.

we thanked the bus driver, and followed suga.

“how far do we have to walk?” hinata asked, and everyone ignored him.

noya and I were trailing behind most of them, only tsukki and yamaguchi behind us. we were talking about his receives.

“y/n, didn’t you say you played as a libero for your team? so… could you maybe teach me some of your moves?” he asked, slowly.

“oh, you remember that?” I blushed a little at the thought of him remembering something important to me. “and yeah, of course I can! i’d love to.”

he gave me a small grin. “great, thanks a lot, y/n! do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

“well, tomorrow’s your rest day, right? training starts from the day after, so… i’m pretty much free all day today and tomorrow.”

“then, do you wanna hang out tomorrow? we could go to the nishikonohama beach. apparently there are some beach volleyball matches being held there, this entire week. maybe we could play together!” he jumped around, excited.

“sounds like a plan, noya,” I smiled at him.

I told him about his form when he receives oikawa’s serves, and noya listened intently. he was so passionate about his role in the team, and it showed.

meanwhile, I also felt tsukki’s gaze sharply on the back of my head.

we continued talking to each other, and by the end of our conversation, we had also reached the dorms we were going to be staying at.

“okay, guys, heads up. ukai-san, takeda-sensei, and kiyoko-san arrived two days ago already, so they could start preparing everything, and to meet the other teams’ managers. so, those three already have a room together now.” daichi explained.

“daichi, asahi and I are bunking together. plus we still have one more bed free too,” suga piped in.

“the limit is four people per dorm, so you guys can decide who you want to share with. we have two more rooms left.” daichi finished.

everyone started chattering at the same time.

noya, tanaka, kageyama, and hinata decided on a room together.

“tsukki, as much as I love you, you snore a lot. and I need some sleep tonight. i’ll bunk with you from tomorrow, but today, i’m going with suga-san,” yamaguchi commented, skipping away to the seniors.

tsukishima scrunched his nose cutely, and pretended to be annoyed.

“so that leaves… tsukishima and y/n,” suga said, crossing out names from his paper. “I doubt you two would do anything other than kill each other, so you can bunk together, I suppose.”

“please don’t kill each other, though. you’re both valuable members of the karasuno volleyball club,” daichi pleaded.

the both of us side-eyed each other but nodded anyway, grimacing.

⌞a crack called you in my tiny world...⌝

asahi bought us all our favourite drinks from the vending machine, and then we went to our dorms to unpack. we’d be staying here for two weeks for training.

I took out my jersey and hung it on a hanger, along with my other clothes.

“still taking it with you everywhere, hm?” tsukki’s voice sounded from the bed. I turned to find him smiling fondly. “that’s such a y/n thing to do.”

I raised my eyebrows, and went back to arranging my clothes in the tiny closet. tsukki had already gotten his clothes up on the hangers, leaving me little space.

“are you free tonight?” I suddenly asked, turning to face him again. he inhaled sharply, so I reconsidered. “never— nevermind. forget I asked.” I sighed lightly.

“i’m free, why?” he asked.

“nothing. never mind. it’s not that big of a deal.”

“tell me anyway.”

after a moment of thinking, I finally replied. “there’s a free concert very closeby, and I have entry to the vip side because of a friend and… I just thought it’d be boring to go alone. and the other boys would probably never come, so.”

“…whose concert?” he asked.

“will you come?” I asked, suddenly excited.

“sure, but whose concert is it?”

⌞where everything’s easy with a sincere smile...⌝

“oh. my. god! thank you so much tsukki! i’ll repay you somehow, I promise!” I grinned.

he kept grumbling the whole time we were both getting ready to go to the concert.

we notified daichi and suga, and they told both our coaches too. they let us go with a ‘don’t get kidnapped, you’re our favourite assistant manager, y/n-san’.

꒰🏐꒱﹒ timeskip ﹒⟢ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

“you brought me to a suki waterhouse concert.” tsukki stated.

“…yes? is there a problem?” I asked, passing it off as nonchalance.

“let me add some words to that sentence: you brought me to a suki waterhouse, and didn’t tell me to change when I showed up wearing this?” he asked, and looked down at himself.

he was wearing black baggy jeans with grey stars patched across them, paired with a plain white shirt and a cat-ear beanie. he got his cross-body bag which had our phones and his earphones in them. he looked… kind of very cute.

“i’m not seeing the problem yet,” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“look at your outfit, and then look at mine,” he grumbled.

I pointed to my black summer dress and leather jacket, with my favourite boots. “still don’t see a problem.”

“you look like a goddess, and I look homeless,” he stated plainly. I burst out laughing, tipping my head back.

I laughed so hard, I was practically crying. I wiped the tears away, and pushed my hair out of my face.

“two lies in the same sentence,” I rolled my eyes at him. “let’s go, kei, come on.” I tugged on his hand, wrapping my fingers around his, dragging him with me.

he stilled for a moment before trailing behind me. his hand was warm under my cold one, balancing it out. his thin fingers gradually wrapped around my own.

⌞you’re a bit different and you still shaking me up...⌝

we reached the vip section, and I showed the vip passes to the security. they let us in, and we walked around trying to find our seat.

hearing some girls whispering nearby, I scoffed and clutched tsukki’s hand tighter.

the concert began, and I couldn’t help but sway to the music. suki’s songs did have a special place in my heart.

𐔌 . ⋮ tsukki’s pov .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ⨾

throughout the concert, I couldn’t help but watch y/n. the way she sang every song. the way her voice hit the right notes, even if she was just casually vibing. the way her smile showed off all her teeth… because the last time I saw that smile was when we were kids.

maybe I did kind of miss the way we used to be: carefree, and thoughtless.

maybe… if we were still like that, I could’ve just told her how I felt about her. how i’ve been feeling about her, for the past six years.

she turned to me, her eyes glittering under the lights. her smile finally reached her eyes as well.

⌞your eyes and the way of talking in style…⌝

I continued watching y/n as she sang. her voice luring me closer, as if she were a siren.

“the skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all.” she looked like she could sing me to my death, and hell, i’d let her.

I spent the entire concert preoccupied looking at her and listening to her. I could never stop thinking about y/n, I suppose.

she looked drowsy and exhausted by the time the concert was over.

“tired?” I asked.

“nah.”

we were walking back to the dorms, since it was quite close.

“you just yawned thrice in under a minute,” I pointed out.

“maybe a little bit,” she said, squinting her eyes, slowly rubbing them from under her glasses.

I took out a cover from my bag, and unwrapped slippers from them.

“you carried my slippers with you?” her eyes widened.

“take off your boots. the hard soles probably hurt.” I guided her to sit down on a nearby bench.

I bent down onto one knee as she sat down. I slowly unlaced her boots and pulled them off, replacing them with her slippers. I placed the boots in the cover, wrapped them up, and put them back in my bag. I got up and dusted my jeans, and looked down at her.

she was looking up at me, siren eyes and all, as if daring me to lose my mind even by looking at her.

⌞oh, it’s like living in a different world…⌝

𐔌 . ⋮ y/n’s pov .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ⨾

I cleared my throat after what felt like an hour of staring up at him, while he looked down quietly.

“we should… get going. yeah,” I said. “thanks.”

he nodded, grabbing my hand gently and pulling me up from the bench.

I had forgotten my earphones at the dorm, and his were already out of battery, so I opened my spotify and played the music out loud.

‘hold my hand’ by stray kids started playing from my phone’s speakers.

I felt tsukki’s eyes on me as I spun around in circles while walking and skipping. well, he could glare all he wanted, or whatever. I don’t care. I think.

well… maybe I do care. a little bit?

by the time we reached the dorms, my playlist was still running, and tsukki was as tired as I was.

we didn’t bother to lock the door, and both of us fell onto the bed after closing the door. the single bed in the entire room, with no other couches. it didn’t really matter though, I suppose, since we’d shared beds lots of times as kids.

I threw my leg and arm around him, and began falling asleep slowly. he turned to face me, and his hand came to rest on my head. his other hand was rubbing circles on my shoulder.

I guess he still remembers how I used to fall asleep.

“good night, n/n. sleep well,” he whispered, and pulled my glasses off gently, followed by his own.

“night, kei. you too.” I was tracing the outline of his jaw and my eyes started drooping; my hands never leaving his face.

oh, how I wish I could pull him closer right then to kiss him.

his arms wrapped tighter around me, and I found myself feeling warm even during the chilliest hours of the night.

⌞baby, regardless of my head, my heart looks after you, after I met you...⌝

© hyuneskkami 2025 ␥ don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first ⨾ don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead ⨾ reblogs and comments more than appreciated 𑁤

[blackkatmagic]

In this trying time (3 hr AO3 maintenance) do you have any wips to share?

“Kidnapped?” Padmé asks, frowning. “On Naboo? Are you sure?”

Aayla Secura isn't someone Padmé has more than a passing familiarity with, just a fleeting impression of contained mirth and good humor, beauty and tempered ferocity in a fight. Even that small amount of knowledge of her person, though, is enough to know that this serious, almost grim cast to her features is unusual. She curls her arms across her chest, blue eyes dark and mouth pulled tight, and her voice has an edge of certainty, as immovable as stone as she says, “I'm sure, Senator. I just don’t have proof that the Senate will accept.”

Padmé manages not to grimace, though it’s a close thing. With the war turning in the Separatists’ favor, there's almost no chance that the Senate would approve any Jedi leaving their post for any reason, and particularly one with a frontline role like Aayla. The 327th has had some of the most dangerous assignments of the whole war, but—

Clearly it hasn’t been enough to win her any favors from the Senate. Not even a friendly ear.

It feels, a little, like addressing the full Senate when she was fourteen, standing before them and practically begging for them to help Naboo, only to have all the faces there turn away as one. Smaller stakes, maybe, than a full planet being on the line, but Aayla is seeking help for her Master, and Padmé can understand that.

But…word that there was a Shadow on Naboo stirs something like alarm, deep in her chest, though she controls it, locks it behind an iron wall where a Jedi will only feel the vaguest traces of it. After Anakin, she has practice at that sort of thing. Useful, now, knowing that someone else was poking around on her homeworld.

“Why would a Jedi Shadow be on Naboo?” she asks, and when Aayla's eyes narrow, she raises a hand. “Knight Secura, I just want to understand. My planet is hardly a front in the war, and we’re well-removed from most supply lines. It seems a strange place for a Jedi to go when the Separatists have just started a push on all fronts, and the Republic is back on its heels.”

Just for a moment, there’s a flicker of self-consciousness that she buries as best she can, a vivid awareness of the comm in the bottom drawer of her desk, the code she memorized before destroying the note. But—there's no way any Jedi could know about anything relating to her personal matters. Even a Shadow. Most of them are far too busy to look into a single Senator’s life. It’s one of the only reasons, Padmé is sure, that her marriage to Anakin survived as long as it did. Not that it matters any longer.

Finding out just why Quinlan Vos was on Naboo needs to be a priority, though. Padmé can't risk anything else slipping through the cracks.

Aayla signs, lekku curling, and her tense posture eases, just a for a moment. “I'm sorry, Senator Amidala. Quinlan never even mentioned to me that he would be on Naboo, much less what he was doing there. But the last message I got from him was alarming. It must have been important, and I think it put him in danger.”

Padmé curls her fingers against her palm, not letting her nails dig in even though she wants to. She’s seen Jedi working often enough not to doubt Aayla's assertion, even if there isn't proof most of the Senate would accept, but—

Naboo shouldn’t be drawing any eyes, let alone dangerous ones. Not now. Not yet.

“Naboo's security forces haven't alerted me to any strange activity recently,” she says, frowning, but she pushes up from her desk, steps around it to face Aayla more squarely. “What leads you to believe Master Vos is on Naboo?”

For a moment, Aayla hesitates. Then, with a breath, she pulls a comm out of one pocket and holds it up, letting the blue glow flicker to life.

“This,” she says grimly. “I was in a battle when I received it, so it was left as a message. If I had known, I would have answered, but—”

She breaks off, and Padmé doesn’t need to be an empath to feel the self-recrimination that vibrates through the silence.

“—need you to contact Tholme,” Vos is saying when the message starts, clear despite the faint buzz of the image, his words quick and almost desperate. He’s curled over, hunched, with one hand pressed against his side in a way that makes it clear he’s injured, and Padmé frowns. She doesn’t know Vos well, either, but she’s only ever seen him cheerful and laughing, perfectly willing to tease Obi-Wan and good-natured about being teased in return. This is about as far from that as she can imagine.

“Please, Aayla,” Vos says, urgent. “Tell him it’s about the Mask—”

A blaster shot, the crack so loud and close it makes Padmé flinch and twitch back. Vos jerks too, spinning to the side and out of frame, and in his place a figure arrows across the field of the projector, so quick that Padmé can't pick out details. A blaster fires again, and there's a cry, a splash—

Aayla freezes the image there, one fractured, half-blurred shot of curved earth and white pillars and a wide stretch of water, and Padmé goes still, alarm rising.

That’s Naboo. That’s Theed. She knows it down to the last stone, and particularly that space.

“That’s beneath the Royal Palace,” she says, and keeps it even through force of will. “Knight Secura, what was Master Vos doing in Naboo's palace? What Mask is he talking about?”

He can't have known. He can't. Apailana is the only other person besides Sabé who knows, and she wouldn’t betray Padmé for anything.

Aayla switches off the projector, shaking her head. “I don’t know,” she says grimly, lekku twisting with worry as she meets Padmé’s eyes, desperation just hidden behind a Jedi's serenity. “But I would like your help to find out, Senator.”

.

The last time Padmé traveled to Naboo with a Jedi, it was Anakin accompanying her as they fled from Jango Fett's assassination attempts, and nothing about that trip sits easily in her memory.

This trip, Padmé thinks ruefully, looks to be just as stressful, if for rather different reasons.

“You're sure your men can spare you, Knight Secura?” she asks, even though she knows what the answer will be. Sabé, at her right hand, is managing to keep a perfectly blank face, but Padmé knows her well enough to see the way tension lingers in the perfectly straight line of her spine, in the angle of her chin as she carries Padmé’s bag aboard the star skiff.

The slant of Aayla's mouth is rueful. “At least temporarily,” she says. “The 327th is on leave awaiting a resupply and a new batch of recruits. Until then, I can help look for my Master.”

At the very least, the skiff is quick enough that it won't be as long a trip as the one with Anakin, undercover as refugees on a public transport. Padmé forces herself to focus on that and smiles, making it as warm as possible. “We welcome your help, Knight Secura. A Jedi is always a valuable ally to have.”

Sabé, at the edge of the cockpit, slants her a look, but Padmé pretends not to see it.

Aayla glances back towards the entrance to the port, a handful of seconds before a clone trooper in gold-marked armor rounds the corner, moving quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, Senator,” she says politely. “I’ll meet you on Naboo once I've finished seeing to matters here.”

Some part of Padmé was expecting Aayla to push onboard, settle in, ignore all niceties in the name of what she wants. Jarring, almost, to realize that she isn't going to, and it makes her waver, just for an instant. Makes her hesitate, nerves curling in her stomach, because the lack of that is somehow just as unsettling as the presence of it.

But—better. Better this way. Padmé needs to speak to Sabé somewhere there's no chance of being overheard, and hyperspace is the best option.

“Very well,” she says. “I need to meet with the queen once I arrive, and I’ll inform her you intend to join us.”

“Thank you.” Aayla bows, polite, and then straightens, giving Padmé a smile that’s bright and warm and full of relief, so pretty it hits like a blow, makes Padmé’s breath want to catch. “Thank you again, Senator Amidala. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you were willing to help. And that you believed me.”

“I trust the Jedi,” Padmé says, and—her throat feels just a little tight around the lie. That curl of attraction makes her turn her face away, uneasy, and she brushes down the skirt of her dress, doesn’t let her fingers dig into the blaster-proof fabric. Not lightsaber-proof, though. She needs to look into that, see what Yané has come up with. One more thing to do while she’s on Naboo, even if she hadn’t planned to return for at least a few months.

“The Jedi trust you as well, Senator,” Aayla murmurs. “We count you as one of our greatest allies in the Senate. Please, excuse me.”

She turns, moves quickly to meet her clone commander, and Padmé watches her for a long second, trying not to let her gaze linger on the fall of Aayla's lekku, the sway of her movements, perfectly graceful and controlled.

Her throat feels tight again, and she turns away, takes a breath. Dangerous, something in the back of her mind whispers. Too dangerous. Not something she can risk again, no matter how pretty Aayla is.

Sabé is waiting for her at the top of the ramp, her gaze fixed on Aayla's back. There's no attraction in her face, though, just buried wariness, and as Padmé makes her way onto the skiff, she deliberately closes the door and then says quietly, “My lady, will the Jedi be joining us?”

Padmé shakes her head. “She’ll join us on Naboo,” she says. “You have a copy of the message?”

“Of course.” Sabé follows her up to the cockpit, sliding into the copilot’s seat without hesitation. “Teckla and Dormé have everything settled here. Your presence shouldn’t be missed.”

Not unless Anakin comes looking for her again, Padmé thinks grimly. He can tell when it’s a Handmaiden playing her, and she doesn’t trust that he won't say something to give Dormé away. She should have made herself more than clear enough last time he confronted her, but—

Anakin has never been good at taking no for an answer. That’s the problem.