#I am so conflicted it’s absolutely insane

[widowshill]

— And do you or do you not have difficulty remembering such simple instructions? — Only during thunderstorms, sir.

THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965) / DARK SHADOWS (1966)

[vaguely-concerned]

It's really interesting that Wynne actually has quite a measured, bordering on downright sympathetic response to hearing what Jowan did in the prologue -- if the mage Warden says "I still can't believe Jowan was that stupid", her answer is something like a thoughtful "Stupid, or desperate, or merely curious?". She seems to think of Jowan as a kid who got in over his head, rather than any less charitable interpretation. I do believe she genuinely is as against blood magic as she publicly expresses and as the Circle party line demands, but as a private person she clearly has a more nuanced and potentially kinder understanding of the reasons why someone might resort to it, at the very least.

(related: when she says that part about Irving telling her what happened, there's no dialogue option in the first stage of the conversation (except choosing the 'leaving the conversation' one) that doesn't net you +2 approval! no matter how the warden feels about it, she is ready to recieve it. I think that says something sweet about how Wynne conceptualizes younger mages and the honest real affection she has for them. if you didn't snitch on jowan and say you stand by that decision, though? +3 approval, apparently! what Wynne says and what Wynne thinks is not always the same thing indeed, her idea of where personal loyalty and integrity stands vis-a-vis a mage's responsibility to the circle may be more flexible than she'd have people believe, you'll be surprised to learn lol)

I have always liked wynne and found her interesting, in all her hypocrisies and her earnest care, but with slightly older eyes she's extra fascinating to me in the same ways that Iron Bull is -- seeing someone whose mind has had hollows carved out in it by the need for double-think and compartmentalization imposed by the oppressive systems and ideologies they live under, and the quiet fight of the self to still preserve vital parts of itself that the system deems unacceptable in the hidden backstage areas of the soul, as it were. (and for both of them part of that self is love and protectiveness of specific other people, beyond what their 'role' dictates is acceptable for them.) I think Wynne has managed to sneak more of her internal self through the meatgrinder relatively intact than Bull overall, but it's the same logic underlying it, for me, and it makes me feel such intense affection and compassion for them both to see how hard they try

[franeridan]

focusing on that one panel of apoo being downright shocked and offended about the fact that law would help luffy since law's known for being ruthless and luffy's gonna be trouble for all supernovas in the future anyway to avoid thinking about the horrors

[yuwuta]

Will still there be Test Dive Part 2???

yes yes i’m just trying to make him… normal…ish…. normal enough? part one was also a partial dialogue study for me, which, through writing part 2, i have realized, doesn’t come so easily to me with yuuta 😭

[mediterraneanmenace]

Going WILD for the description of this piece (which is going to be finished Soon), if you're into duality in ships Raphael and Raksha are so going to be your thing lmao

So far my favorite symbolism (besides her being the sacred to his profane, Raksha's a Holy Inquisitor after all) is how Raphael describes her as "strong as mistral wind, as fickle as the sea itself" because he's the opposite with the whole being a Devil with fire, hell and all of that.

He wants to control, chain her to him but also loves her strong personality and independence. Which is why when she eventually goes into hiding to escape him he becomes full on obsessed to find her (but still, in his words, "I can't bring myself to hate you").

[nthflower]

Sometimes I want to rant about something small and criticise something I don't have strong opinions about but I also know people have really strong opinions about this (and I don't blame them I can understand them problem is not this) and they are sometimes reply my post (again no problems I love people sharing their opinions to me I have no judgement) but think is they are very angry and I am not and I actually enjoy it and actually we are not in same frequency in our rant here.

Tldr I wanna rant sometimes about small things complain a little and it turns into immediately super negative place while I was mostly not caring soo I can't complain about small things :(

[bulletbilltime]

I'm so sane. Only sane people think about "Life is Strange but isekai'd into Paper Mario TTYD". I'm so sane I swear.

[blackwaves]

#btw this is why dazai sets him on atsushi #because atsushi is the reverse #he is entirely self preservation #he has trouble moving forward and he freezes #when dazai says “he's better than you” #that's what he means #he's saying see that? do you see that cowering weepy cat? that is the better extreme. #and then he keeps bringing them together because they need each other #atsushi needs akutagawa to be brave enough to act #and akutagawa needs to see what a will to live looks like from someone capable of absorbing the brunt of the fight #also as a reminder. akutagawa is not real. he is a seinen anime character with superpowers. #anime is a stylistic and exaggerated medium #do not work yourself up by dragging them from their context to frame their behavior as if theyre irl high school aged students #the pencil drawings are not hurting each other and cartoon violence is not 1:1 with real violence (tags from OP)

pm!dazai didn't abuse akutagawa. he reacted proportionately to the threat akutagawa posed to himself.

when dazai smacks akutagawa around in canon, they're running drills. dazai is not hitting him in misdirected anger or because he is venting his own suffering on him. akutagawa does not instinctually protect himself. in his fits of hyperviolence, he seeks to kill and be killed, and nearly is in beast, and in the course of his initial pursuit of atsushi.

he does not have the reflex or will or instinct to defend himself, and he is slow because he is having to consciously process the effort. his automatic reflex is to attack, but that will not stop him from being shot or overwhelmed or blindsided.

what they are doing in those scenes, what dazai is uniquely able to practice with him since rashomon can't pierce him, is not unlike cognitive behavioral therapy interventions. akutagawa is wired such that when he is triggered, he develops tunnel vision, pressing forward relentlessly without registering danger or responding to negative stimuli. this is a pattern developed from when he deemed dearh inevitable, and one which is liable to get him killed regardless of whether he has a reason to live.

he needs to consciously retrain his instinctual response, and he has to consciously and consistently reinforce it against his existing, much quicker instinct. he has to do it before he has the conviction or will to do it. and he has to do it over and over again, even when it isn't immediately life or death, because the instinct is self reinforcing, and the pattern he is trying to supplant it with is not yet.

skills are part of their users' framework for responding to their environment. jun'ichiro is anxious, but he can hide within light snow. kunikida has his notebook, but it has rigid limitations that he adapts to, similarly to how he works within the limitations of reality to keep from becoming consumed by his ideals.

akutagawa's skill, meanwhile, is wildly fucking disproportionate to akutagawa's constitution which is a problem when akutagawa wont react defensively. akutagawa is canonically frail, chronically ill, thin, and short (he's 5'8", but asagiri insists he's itty bitty every time he describes him in prose). rashomon, meanwhile, is monstrously powerful and hungry. it lends a false sense of untouchable violence when akutagawa himself is weak, and also is just really difficult to focus and control such that using it brings akutagawa into coughing fits. rashomon is also terrifying even in visage; it invites others to react with violence proportionate to their terror against the spectre of rashomon — but akutagawa is small, sick, and human; what is proportionate to rashomon is IMMENSE overkill if aimed at akutagawa. which is especially egregious because akutagawa will let them.

in other words, when dazai meets akutagawa, rashomon is as dangerous to its user as to anyone else. skills should not get their users killed. dazai is right. it's a shit skill.

akutagawa is vulnerable and self-destructive, and he and dazai are working to rewire his instinctual evaluation of his stakes. even when dazai punches akutagawa after akutagawa kills the mimic soldier, it's not a random act of violence or unregulated anger. the mimic soldier was not going to lead them to gide, there was no reality where they restrained him before he bit his cyanide, and he'd attacked dazai. but instead of reacting defensively at the opportunity, akutagawa fell to the former instinct, leaving himself wide open.

dazai reacts how he does because:

they are supplanting an ingrained instinct that is self reinforcing, the correction needs to be consistent to change the pattern and the former instinct needs to be discouraged with the same severity as the threat it poses;

by punching akutagawa first, dazai gave him notice and time to consciously muster the defense reaction theyre working on;

akutagawa needs to build an association between the defensive reaction and the triggering stimulus for this to work;

the context in which this happens is the exact sort of threat that rashomon is then ill equipped to handle— gide can see into the future, like oda, and mimic are military trained gunmen.

when dazai tells akutagawa that he couldn't ever defeat oda, he's not taunting him, he's right. akutagawa is relying on swift killing blows, but against someone who can see into the future, akutagawa is as vulnerable as a baby. and then, shortly after, that's what happens: gide wrecks his shit and is about to murder him dead when oda swoops in to grab dazai's dumb horrible baby kouhai who's trying to kill himself with the ambitious gusto of a horse.

as long as akutagawa fails to seek self-preservation, he is remarkably vulnerable. he's weak, and he's going to get himself killed. dazai doesn't coddle him about it for the same reason fukuzawa slaps ranpo for scampering into a police car with a murderer. you dont get praise for self endangerment.

dazai is not going to affirm a version of akutagawa that is trying to kill the boy dazai promised to save.

***

(also, this explains why akutagawa hates taking baths and being without his coat. dazai tried to instill in akutagawa the vigilance to register danger. in his absence, akutagawa strove to be worthy of demanding his approval by diligently practicing. but he's dazai's dumb baby kouhai who. takes things too far lmao.)

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - prologue

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, none Wordcount: 5.6K A/N: LILA IS BACK with a new series. this is the prologue, purely here to give people an insight to our oc Izara (who i already love btw), so not as much paige here, but she will make a much bigger entrance come first chapter of the series. again, ty so much for everyone who hyped this up based solely on the synopsis i wrote and ty for your support! i am so excited for this series you guys don't even know!! this one will be a looooong one so buckle up

-

Passport? Check. Silk pillowcase? Check. Laptop? Check.

The list seemed to go on and on, filling out three sheets of paper, both front and back. Some people called it excessive but to me it was necessary. It was better to be over prepared than leave things up to chance. I had been making lists all my life, I wasn’t about to stop now. They have worked for me so far.

Flipping through the maroon moleskine notepad in my hands, my green eyes skim over one page after another - grocery list, changes I must make to my skincare routine, presents to buy next Christmas, wedding registry. There’s a sting in my chest as I stop, my french manicured hand brushing over the soft paper: Vitamix blender, Ginori 1735 cake plate, Baccarat candlestick set.

Inhale, exhale. The pain won’t relinquish. I bring my hand to the soft cotton of my turtleneck, rubbing soothing circles on my chest just like my mum used to when I was little.

“There you go Izara, don’t you feel better? It’s a magic trick, it takes the sadness away.”

The black suitcase is laid out on the floor in front of me, clothes folded neatly in their own nooks. I keep rubbing and rubbing but the sadness won’t go away. So I stop, my fingers carefully flipping a few pages forward. 

Move to The US

Pros

Good career move?

New experiences

Cons

Leaving my family and friends

Boss talked about promotion for me in the next year

Leaving London

Visa hassle

Expenses

Wedding delayed off

Leaving Jasper (pro?)

My memories of the day resurface, the way I was locked in my car, dreading walking inside where my husband-to-be was expecting me. I had spent all day trying on wedding dresses near Soho, my mom and her sister fawning over Jasper the entire day. To everyone he was the perfect man, charming, nurturing and protective. But they didn’t know half of what I put up with. All day I wanted to scream, to throw a fit, tell everyone that they don’t know anything about my perfect fiancé. But instead I kept my mouth shut, and waited till I got into my car to cry. I didn’t like being vulnerable, for my relatives to see me weak. I had told no one about the conflicting feelings inside me, or the way I had applied for an open position to be a social media producer for the Dallas Wings. That very same morning the position had been offered to me.

So I sat in my car with my trusty lists, as usual. The moment I wasn’t sure whether to write leaving Jasper into the pros or the cons, I knew I had to go. It had been gnawing at my subconscious, making me sick to my stomach. Even according to the list this decision made absolutely no sense. But in my gut I knew had to go - desperately so.

“Izzie, are you done yet? We have to leave soon.”

My brother bursts into the room, watching the way I had undone all the packing that I had naturally finished a week prior. Clothes were all over my childhood bedroom, piles of them standing neatly. After calling off the wedding with Jasper I had decided to move back home, not wanting to stay with him and his temper under the same roof.

“What the hell have you done here?” He chuckles, shaking his head as I stand in the middle of the bedroom, notebook in hand, staring at the half empty suitcase.

“I think I’ve gone crazy Kiran,” I admit with a sigh. Two weeks ago when I accepted the job I had been so sure - now I wasn’t. This was insane, mad, completely, utterly unlike me. To get up and move, to disappoint my parents, to disappoint everyone. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, my life here. Every year I grew older I became more and more unsure. Now at 25 I felt like a complete fool, not knowing anything except this wasn’t the life I wanted. Something had to change - I had to change.

My younger brother walks over, wrapping a hand around my shoulder.

“Yes you have.”

I scoff and push him off. “That’s not helpful!”

He chuckles and begins to pack for me, just as neatly as I had done earlier. Guess being high-strung ran in the family.

“It is mad. But that doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do,” my brother mumbles, neatly folding my black cashmere sweater. “I think it’s good Iz, no matter what mum and dad are saying. Don’t mind them. They’ll come around.”

“I wasn’t raised not to mind them,” I chuckle, looking out the window, ours just one of many of the semi-detached houses extending along the road I grew up on. The cherry trees had just bloomed, pale pink blossoms covering the branches, decorating the pavement.

“Funny that, neither was I,” Kiran laughs and finally zips up my suitcase, picking it up and preparing to carry it to the car. “You got everything? Passport? Wallet? Documents?”

I nod with a smile. Even if we didn’t look almost exactly the same (though, we certainly did), it was impossible not to pick up on the family resemblance.

“I have everything.”

-

The drive to Heathrow Airport is quiet. Truthfully, I was far too nervous to speak. I could feel my stomach twisting uncomfortably, a nauseating weight on my chest. I watch as we pass the streets of London, the only streets I had ever known. We pass the red double-decker buses, the abandoned phone boxes, eventually making our way onto the highway.

London is cruel, relentless to its residents, yet simultaneously captivating and thrilling. I had travelled enough to know there was no place like it. Nowhere else I could hop on the Northern Line in the bohemian, eclectic Camden, switch tubes and step out to Canary Wharf, where skyscrapers stand tall above you and the streets are buzzing with men in suits, just in 40 minutes or so. The diversity of the city, the way it could feel like a large metropolis as much as a small charming town all at once, depending on where you were. I loved this city, I always would. But it was time for me to move on at least for now. I wasn’t getting what I wanted, not that I knew what that was in the first place.

“Can’t believe my sister’s gonna be working for the league,” Kiran interrupts the silence. “When you meet Bronny you must tell him hi.”

I let out a laugh, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening anywhere else except your delusions.”

“Hey, you never know!” He scoffs as we pull up to terminal 3, the butterflies growing deep in my abdomen.

“You’re such a guy,” I roll my eyes. “I’m working for the WNBA and all you want is to say hi to Lebron James.”

“Well who else is there, Steph?”

In reality, my brother loved basketball, he was the sole reason I knew the first thing about the sport. But he loved pushing my buttons more - and nothing pushed my buttons further than women being underestimated by men.

“A’ja, Stewie, Sabrina, Jewell? Arike plays for the Wings!”

“Never heard of any of them.”

I smack him on the shoulder as he’s parking the car, making him yelp. He was joking of course, but I wasn’t in the mood. Some would argue I was rarely in the mood to joke around but it’s just how I am. High-strung, intense. It was just me, I couldn’t help it. You know how some people have that spark to them? The kind where they step in the room and the place just lights up? That wasn’t me, and I was okay with it. At least I got shit done.

“Okay sorry,” Kiran whines, rubbing his arm. Neither of us wanted to get out, to face the goodbye looming ahead. So we sit for a while.

“Paige Bueckers was drafted there though, right?” My brother asks, staring at the big sign for Terminal 3 above the sliding doors.

“Yeah, she was.”

“She’s tough,” he says and I nod in agreement. I had followed her college career quite a bit, saw her go through injury and rise to the top again. She wasn’t my favourite player, I preferred focusing on the league - but it was undeniable she was a generational talent. 

“She’s also really fit,” my brother adds, making me snort.

“Kiran, I'm fairly sure she’s also really gay,” I laugh. My brother turns to me with shock written all over his face.

“You really think so?” 

I roll my eyes, “I- well yes. It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

“Damn,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Takes one to know one I guess.”

Another smack on his shoulder, another yelp spilling from his lips. One drunken night years ago I had come out to Kiran as bisexual and now it was his favourite joke in the world. I don’t think he realised I was serious, or that at points in my life I had dated girls as well. Honestly though, I hadn’t even thought about girls that way since I met Jasper. Not that I’d found any girl remotely attractive in the past years, perhaps it had just been a phase.

“You’re going to come back with some 6 '5 American basketball lesbian aren’t you?” He teases, making me roll my eyes.

“We need to head inside,” I laugh, climbing out of the car. I didn’t know much about what would happen, but I certainly wasn’t going to come back with anyone. The time I spend in Dallas would be time dedicated to me, to figuring out who I was, what I wanted. I had no time for love.

I pull the suitcase towards the doors, Kiran on my tail until we both come to a halt right inside. Quickly I check my purse again - passport, phone, wallet, charger, documents. All there. Just one thing left to do.

I turn to my brother and hug him. We had never spent more than a month apart since the day he was born. I had always been the annoying, bossy older sister, ordering him around since he could barely talk. But still, it had all been out of love. I wanted him to be safe and it was my job to protect him. He was my baby brother after all, even now at 23 as he stands 6’0 tall. 

“Take care of yourself Izzie,” he whispers, squeezing me tight.

“You too, and of mum and dad please,” I tell him, holding my breath in as to not let any tears fall, though they’re already burning in the corners of my eyes.

We pull apart, and he smiles at me assuringly. “Call mum when you land, we don’t need her getting loopy.”

“I will,” I chuckle. There’s a few seconds of silence that stretches across us, our green eyes locked in each other’s gaze. We don’t need to say these things out loud, we both knew we loved each other.

“Well, have a safe flight and have fun in Dallas,” Kiran says and waves bye, turning around to walk away. “YEEHAW!” He turns around and yells before slipping out through the sliding doors. Laughing, I watch him, the ache in my chest growing exponentially. It was all becoming real. Me in Dallas, Texas.

A couple hours and a long security line later I’m sitting on the ascending plane, gazing out of the window. I stretch out my legs, glad to be short enough to fit in the seats comfortably. I’m holding a copy of War and Peace by Tolstoy in my hands, simply flipping through the pages, my mind too conflicted to focus as I watch the ground beneath me retreating further every second.

I could see Big Ben, The London Eye, Thames stretching across the length of the city, shrinking until we ascend through a thick layer of clouds, making it impossible to see anything. It’s only then I let myself cry, the first tears after ending my engagement only a couple weeks prior. I had no other plan, I needed this to work out desperately.

-

Jet lag was killing me, but I knew I could never allow it to show. It was the following day of arriving in Dallas. I spent all of yesterday sleeping, trying to let my body adjust to the time difference before my first day on the job. 

Of course I had woken up three entire hours before my alarm went off. So when I get to the first media team meeting of the season, I have already had time to drink two coffees, go to the gym, shower, shave, do my jet black hair just to have a crisis and pin it up in a slicked back bun, do my makeup and send emails and make calls to the wedding venue to cancel it. I was on fire and wouldn’t let a little jetlag hold me down. 

The maroon turtleneck and black slacks I was wearing had already been decided on the evening before as to avoid any clothing disaster. I wasn’t exactly sure how to dress for a job like this - but as I step into the tall building from the busy streets of Dallas I can tell I’m overdressed. Many of the people around my age are dressed much more laid back than I’m used to, wearing hoodies and jeans - and to my biggest shock of all, sneakers.

As I walk across the entryway the sound of my heels tapping on the tiles echo around the building, my cheeks turning bright red. I knew people were turning to stare, but instead of looking back and checking, I rush to the elevator, slipping in through the doors and facing my reflection. Maybe I was overdressed, but I look nice. The gold earrings decorating my ears contrast against my light brown skin and black hair, making them pop. I smooth over my belt, fixing the way the golden buckle of it was sitting on my slacks when a man around my age walks in just as the doors are about to close.

“Hey there!” He greets me, a charming smile on his face and brown eyes twinkling. His friendliness is so intense it nearly startles me.

“Oh, hey!” I reply, turning towards him. For a moment he looks at me, blinking, perhaps waiting for me to keep talking but when I don’t he’s quick to pick up my slack.

“I’m Trey, I do media stuff for the Wings. Basically a glorified cameraman,” he explains lightheartedly. 

“I’m Zari, they just hired me to do social media actually,” I reply, shaking his hand firmly just like my dad always taught me to. There’s a sliver of recognition on Trey’s face as he takes in my words.

“Oh yeah! They said they hired someone new! Didn’t mention you were a Brit tho. Well shit we’re prolly gon’ be working together a lot then,” he says. It’s at that moment I decide that his enthusiasm isn’t fake even though it’s suspiciously intense. Maybe he’s just an energetic guy - maybe he’s just an American.

“I suppose yes!” I chuckle and look over the buttons of the lift. “So, perhaps you know which floor I need to go to then because I don’t?”

“Oh sure thing.” 

Pressing on the number 10, the elevator finally begins to move upwards. I’m fiddling with the rings around my fingers, a nervous habit I had.

“You nervous?” Trey asks, picking up on my queues quickly. Guess I wasn’t as composed as I’d liked.

“A bit,” I admit.

Trey chuckles and wraps an arm around my shoulder comfortingly - or I suppose it’s meant to be comforting but I didn’t particularly find it so. “You’ll do good, everyone’s chill here. Except the boss but you get used to her. You can relax, Zari.” As much as the man’s enthusiasm and touchiness shocked me, I was glad to have someone show me where to go instead of wandering around the floors aimlessly. 

In a corridor full of doors Trey picks the right one, opening it for me. Inside we find a team of 10 people or so sitting around a table, their discussion immediately coming to a halt when we step in, all eyes turning to me. I feel unease settle over me, but instead of panic I inhale and exhale. I knew I could do this, this was the only plan I had. I had never not had a plan B, a plan C before. This had to be it.

“You must be Izara,” a gravelling voice says as a red haired woman, likely in her 50s, stands up. She’s dressed much more corporate, a fitted blazer and a pencil skirt accentuating her curves. I immediately notice her brows, thin and sharp, appearing almost angry. I didn’t have to be told who this was, Trey’s description had been colourful enough for me to know she was my boss.

“Yes, well I go by Zari actually, if you don’t mind,” I say in a friendly tone, walking over in my black stilettos to shake her hand. 

“You kids and your nicknames, oh well. Zari’s fine, but don’t complain if I forget,” she sighs, clearly already bothered. “I’m Linda Halford, the managing media director for the Dallas Wings. We spoke on the phone.” 

Her eyes are blue and piercing, but there’s something about her straight forwardness that feels intriguing in contrast to the excessive friendliness of everyone else I’d met so far. Hell, even the cab driver tried to strike up a conversation after my flight. I wasn’t sure if I liked Linda or feared her - perhaps a bit of both.

“It’s nice to meet you in person,” I smile, sitting myself down on the chair Linda pulls out for me right next to her. All eyes were on me of course, the new girl. I just had to get through the first week and I’d be old news. Good old boring Izara. Just get through the week.

“I hope your travels went well,” Linda says distractedly, scrolling through a document on her laptop. As I open my mouth to answer, she keeps talking.

“Now, there are many big changes this year, and our media team has been… not up to par so to speak,” she glances up at Trey, and a couple of girls sitting next to him who I suppose I would be working with as well. 

“Thanks to Bueckers, we’re about to have a lot more eyes on us. So I hired Izara-” Zari. Just call me Zari. I bite the inside of my cheek not to correct her, she didn’t seem like the type of woman you correct. “and she’s gonna help us. She’s here to innovate, to come up with ideas to boost online exposure and to boost clicks. We need to get active on Tiktok, and whatever the kids use. I need daily content. No more editing videos for weeks before posting them on Youtube, Trey.”

“My bad,” Trey says, making everyone chuckle, his eyes sparkling when they land on me.

Linda looks at him disapprovingly before continuing.

“We are sitting on a goldmine now guys. Paige Bueckers has over 2 million followers on Instagram. She is incredibly marketable, how do we use her best?” Linda asks, everyone going silent immediately, looking around, waiting for someone to bite. Fine, I will.

Clearing my throat I begin. “Well, I think it’s important that while we do use her to get clicks, we don’t make the Wings the “Paige Bueckers team” and repeat the same mistakes I personally think Indiana Fever did with CC,” My voice is steady, sure, even though deep inside I’m not quite certain about what I’m saying. I pause, composing myself - if there was one thing I was good at it was selling things with confidence. Even when I wasn’t. 

“I think we use her for clicks, make loads of content with her but use that content to uplift other players and the whole team. Not just Bueckers, not just Arike, but everyone.”

Linda nods. “Yes, Izara. How do we do that?” Zari. Just say Zari.

I shrug. “A lot of Paige’s fans are young, I’m not sure if some of them even watch the sport at all. So we try to get them intrigued. Not posting purely basketball content, but including some fan service should help with that, incentivise the young girls to get involved with the sport. There needs to be a balance.”

To my shock, when I raise my eyes from the table, Linda is smiling. It’s not the warmest smile, but one nevertheless.

“And this is why we had to hire someone all the way from England, because you guys couldn’t figure this out in this hellhole,” Linda scolds my colleagues. The praise feels good, but I really didn’t want to come off as a show off or soon my only friend in all of Dallas, Texas would be Linda Halford.

“Good job Zari, welcome to the team,” the redhead says firmly before returning to her notes. “Okay tomorrow we are all having a little Dallas Wings get together. The coaches, players, everyone so be prepared to go out after work.”

As I write this down in my calendar I’m interrupted by Linda again. “Izara.”

“Yes?” I ask.

“By the end of tomorrow I’m expecting you to be friendly with Bueckers. You’re gonna be working together a lot, I need you on her good side.”

-

“Thank God!” I groan to myself, kicking off my black stilettos the second I step into my new home. The league had provided me with an apartment until the end of the season. It was modern, nice, sleek but so incredibly impersonal it pained me. It didn’t feel like me at all, the blank white walls, the dull grey furniture. It wasn’t home.

I crash into the couch face first, mixture of jet lag and stress of the first day on the job taking over. Not only was I the new girl, but I was also the English girl. All day I’d been asked if we really eat beans on toast, and if I’d ever seen the Queen - mind you she passed in 2022. 

With too much left to do, I only let myself rest for a few minutes before getting up reluctantly, tiptoeing to my bedroom to start undressing. Throwing on a matching set of knitted cream coloured sweater and pants, I let my hair down, finally feeling comfortable.

Suddenly I hear a loud crash from the hallway, followed by even louder giggles and muffled yelps echoing around the building. Too curious about my neighbours, I step into my slippers and carefully open the door to see what’s going on.

“Bro, it’s not that heavy,” an accented voice groans probably a floor below me. Heavy steps on the stairs are closing in. Two people, I think.

“Lou, you’re kidding right?” Another girl complains, her voice bright.

“You’re too weak, just give it to me,” the other person argues, steps approaching me.

“Ha, no way, you’re just gon’ break my new plates. Ion trust you.”

“Next time you’re getting an at-home deliver- oh hey!”

A brunette girl with her hair down, only in basketball shorts and a sports bra sees me as she turns the corner, meeting my gaze as I peek through my door. She’s holding a cardboard box, full of pans and pots, hair sticking to her forehead from the humidity.

Suddenly the other girl appears, blonde, hair in a bun but other than that pretty much wearing the exact same thing.

“Who you talkin to- oh,” the blonde notices me, her blue eyes so intense my knees nearly buckle. 

“Sorry, we’re being really loud, we’re gonna try and keep quiet,” the brunette apologises. The blonde is still watching me, never breaking eye-contact. Feeling uneasy, my eyes flicker to the brunette and I smile politely.

“That’s fine, I was just checking if you were okay?” I ask. The blonde walks past my door, my eyes lingering for a millisecond on the way her biceps flex as she carries a large and apparently heavy box of plates towards the next flight of the stairs.

“We’re good, sorry ‘bout that,” the blonde answers, her voice now much quieter, less lively than before when it echoes around the halls.

“Okay well, maybe next time you should get at-home-delivery?” I suggest, watching as the girls struggle slowly up the stairs before retreating back into my apartment.

“That’s what I SAID!” The brunette complains loudly. I can still hear them bickering when I close the door, a smile spreading to my face. The first time I’ve genuinely laughed since I landed. 

It’s as if I knew those girls from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place it. Something about them was so familiar. It’s not till I hear them jogging back down for the next batch of boxes to carry upstairs, their voices loud enough to echo into my apartment, when I realise. 

“Paige I’m about to call Bob Bueckers to come help us soon, I’m dead serious.”

“You don’t got my dad’s number.”

“Pretty sure I do!”

Oh. Peeking out through the peephole my suspicions are confirmed. Walking past my door it indeed is Paige and Lou, bringing more kitchenware upstairs. And I didn’t even recognise them. I look down at my knitted set with a deep sigh. So much about being professional huh? I better make a good impression tomorrow.

-

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @bueckersfive @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

[cckaisen]

୨ৎ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝓙𝓔𝓩𝓔𝓑𝓔𝓛, nanami kento !

an indulgence in nanami, his sweet intern, and their shared insanity.

ಇ. summary. fem!reader, smut, dark content, age gap (reader early 20s, nanami late 30s), mildly dubcon, power imbalance, boss/intern relationship, daddy kink, dubious morality, dom/sub elements, seduction, internal conflict, corruption. minors do not interact !!

ಇ. notes. believe it or not, i love nanami, but with that comes my desire to absolutely ruin his life. sorry hun 🩷

nanami's index and middle eagerly dip into the cavern of your mouth, swimming in your saliva as it fills up the crevice between his thick fingers. his features contort in anguish at the way your tongue swirls around him. the noise he lets out is almost wounded, bringing up his other hand to cover his mouth.

digging your knees into the carpet, you tighten your lips around his digits, sucking him in like a whore, gruesome imagery that has his cock straining his pants. every logical bone in nanami's body aches to push you away, yet here he is, ensnared, watching with a strange contained horror as you drool around him.

watching. like a monster lurking in the shadows, knees spread as he sits back in his wanton throne.

he lets your eyes roll back, thumb poking against your cheek as you suckle on his jaded fingers.

it's so much easier to keep from thinking with your satiny mouth enveloping him, soothing him in a violent sear all through his body.

experimentally, nanami pushes his fingers back just enough to trigger your little reflex, watching you gag, lashes fluttering in brief panic as he lets out this awful, guttural groan—he's endeared.

what is wrong with him? what the fuck is wrong with him...?

and why can't he stop?

he's reigned in from bliss by a slurry of soft sounds that drench his hands, the cold steel of his watch bumping your chin.

"what is it?" nanami blurts, question incongruous with his own dizzied tone.

"wanna tashte yoh..." you mumble, fluttering your lashes even though they're thick with globs of tears from where you gagged around him. "please, nanami..."

no. he can't let you. he can't. he's already let this go too far—

nanami bites the inside of his cheek. before he can even reply, you're unfurling his belt, metal clinking darkly.

"fuck..." he pants, wet hand moving out of your mouth to slide across his face. his nose-bridge glistens with your sticky saliva, "goddamnit..."

his lets his eyes shut briefly as you free him from his cotton confines. leaning forward with intent, you take his cock into your palm, noting the way your fingertips struggle to meet around him. he pants harder, gasps for breath, grits his teeth.

"s—sweetheart..." nanami breathes.

open your eyes. see how disgusting i am.

you only answer him with a soft exhale, hardly a sigh. he's alerted to the pink of your lips first as your mouth pools around his tip, and then a shaky, untried breath, and then a barrage of images strike him, a violent, vivid list of things he wants to do to you. his muscles seize up in an attempt to keep himself restrained.

strategically flattening your tongue against his tip, you watch for any kind of reaction like a hawk snatching up its prey. made-up eyes sparkle while inspecting the new crease in his brow, drowning in his destruction.

he stares at you, despairing, a large hand coming up to brush against your cheek. you lap up the affection, crooning into it, insatiable greed spilling out in the form of syrupy saliva. it dribbles messily to the base of his cock, a token of your yearning, the same that held him in his chair as you puddled at his feet.

there was nothing right about this. nothing remotely, possibly, vaguely right. nothing that nanami could scramble to find while taking advantage of your naivety, surmising that perhaps you two could be together, fleetingly, as two adults in two very different stages of life.

because it's so easy. it's so easy to take you when you're so willing, so eager. all his. you leap for his attention, at any cost—how high is never a factor in your decision. his greedy little intern.

his precious little girl.

he's cradling your head in his palms, feeling the heat pooling in your cheeks, nesting in your hair when he breaches your throat with a strained grunt.

squinting your eyes, you rush to take it all, inviting nanami to meld you to his will. he grimaces when your nails dig into his skin through his pants, imagining the terrible thoughts gushing through your mind about wanting to please him more than anything. then, pleasure lurches through him, his own body betraying his morals.

you rut your mouth up and down on him, slobber drenching his thighs. nanami's touching you, holding your head, but not for better use—his hands are hot and gentle, like sapped concrete.

"it's okay. you can be rough," you ebb him on, popping off briefly with a smarmy look. "i'm not made of glass, you know."

nanami sneers at the comment. "don't."

"what? don' wanna hurt me? c'mon, i can take it." you pepper kisses up the side of his cock, flushed and magma-hot, rubbing against your cheek.

"god," his hips roil in response to your torment, his breath labored around the words, "the mouth on you..."

"mhm. i'm good with it, right?" you giggle before getting back to your little task. in dizzying motions, you roll your tongue along him, sweet kitten licks souring his conscience, all his fantasies rolling into one diabolical act.

nanami's brain fizzles in dying sparks, eyes rolling. he attempts to let go of you in order to sink his grip into the chair for crushing purchase, but you refuse; little fingers snatch his and bring them to the back of your neck.

kento chokes on a moan as your nose brushes his pelvis, your body floundering weakly for a moment. your instinct for air is obstructed by a growing pressure against the back of your head.

"good girl, that's it..."

pride flourishes in your chest when you're given praise, panties growing stickier from under your skirt. you can't breathe, but it feels too good. the way he keeps you there, maintaining the invasion in your throat, selfish, unchecked lust bleeding out through the cracks of his dignity.

and it's too easy. when he tugs you back, lets you bob your head, gagging on needy gulps and whines, it comes so easily he hardly knows why he was ever so reluctant. so hesitant, and for what? what's the point in holding back if you want it? when you want it rough? when it's exactly what you're begging for? when it's clear that all you want is to be treated like those girls in porn, those girls with fathers who don't care for them, those girls who ask for it, who don't know any better, who get found shot dead in a ditch, legs askew and panties twisted around their ankles, one of those girls.

nanami thrusts forward. shoves his cock down your throat, really, punching a gasp from deep inside your body. he comes with a strained grunt, a ragged whisper of your name, croaked out into the cosmos.

your throat squeezes, something hot and thick gushing into the tight space. gargling, swallowing, spluttering as you thrash for air, nanami's grip slackens.

"s-stop," he jerks, gritting his perfect set of teeth until they creak under the pressure. "stop it, don't—"

the second his grasp on you loosens, the yearning floods again tenfold. in an attempt to regain his rugged affections, you suckle at his cock, panting greedily, tearful eyes wide and owlish with glutton. "d—daddy..."

nanami hisses, overstimulation pricking his nerves. in an instant, he flares up, acid in his gut fizzling, lurching at you.

a choked noise—a squeak—jumps from your spit-glossed lips at once, barely reaching his ears. you're balking at him, not in your usual girlish inflection. this was different. it was scared.

it takes him a few beats to make out the jaunted figure of his knuckles squeezing around your neck, calcifying. a milky rapture. the sight ingrains itself in his mind, carving the image of your wobbling pupils into the shadows of his careful persuasion.

that simple pleasure dissolves as quickly as it came. guilt rears its ugly head, a pit of ice settling in his stomach. nanami churns. had he just...?

recoiling at his own affliction, kento shudders, releasing you at once.

relief is immediate. your lungs swallow up all the air they can, chest expanding for a giant gulp of air. fright begins to subside, but that foreboding darkness in his eyes flashes through your mind in harsh, bright bursts. willowy fingers tremble on-top of his knee, the same that had just lured out that murk in him he desperately despised.

a necklace of torrent red rises to the surface of your skin in the wake of his foul touch. you paw at it weakly, stunned turmoil heavy in your gaze as you blink up at him.

"i—i'm sorry," nanami chokes out, "god, i'm sorry... i don't know what came over me."

"it's okay," you dispel quickly, wiping off the wet trails along your cheeks, because you liked it—his cruelty. it's been your goal since the very beginning. to break him down, to expose that carnality that simmered in his veins. you'd done just that. and even though it had only been for the briefest of seconds, the wound it left was raw, broiling and morbid.

but you liked it.

right?

"no, it's not okay. i went too far." nanami's blood pressure slides as he makes the admission. "i hurt you just now."

"yeah? so what?" you shrug a 'couldn't care less', holding his careful gaze, "i liked it."

a line of revulsion carves into nanami's forehead, deep and unmistakable. fear that it's aimed at you pangs in your chest until he suddenly groans, palming his chiseled face. thin brows sinking, that new wrinkle exaggerated by the untimely turn of events. "god, what the hell have i done to you...?"

your breath hitches at the self-imposed question. it's engrained with frustration, gaunt and responsible. so nanami of him.

and yet he leers inwardly, venom rising in his throat. "can't you see i'm ruining you?"

nanami's words teem with unvarnished emotion, corruption burbling in his deep baritone voice, the corruption you share so blindly, so willingly. it wreaks turbulence unto your vision, wetting your eyes again.

"nanami..."

"i'm so sorry," he pleads. "forgive me. i didn't want this for you. please believe me... you believe me, don't you? that i didn't want—i don't want to be like this."

you fall quiet again. you're still below him, knees starting to ache as you catch your breath.

"i'm sorry," kento mumbles, lifting you so gently upright and pulling you towards him. your head meets his firm chest as his hands come up, one cradling the back of your skull, the other at the small of your back. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so, so sorry."

"it's okay. i forgive you." you whisper, wrapping your arms around him. despite the soggy shards of concern that lay in pieces at your feet, you croon into him none the less, giving chase once again. to him. to his touch, his protection, his patience.

you want it all.

the anguish, the control, the lacerations of his love.

hurt me.

hurt me.

and i promise i will like it.

likes n reblogs are appreciated !! 🩷

[pancake404]

Thoughts on Chapter 4 of Poppy Playtime

This isn't a drawing like I usually do but since I managed to play Chapter 4 blind without any spoilers, I felt inclined to share my thoughts about Chapter 4.

Right after I first played it, I, of course, a fan of the game, thought it was the best chapter in the series. But after the excitement died down a little, I put some more thought into it and read others' reviews on Chapter 4.

So here are my totally serious opinions you should absolutely think are facts as I am never wrong.

Insane Spoiler Alert for Chapter 4!

Pretty much the Chapter:

The Doctor bullies you and everyone else throughout the whole chapter.

Doey, the ally turned enemy as he tweaks out after we might've caused the Save Haven to blow up.

Every Smiling/Nightmare Critter watched JJK apparently because all they do is JUMP YOU.

We continue the trend of almost every toy we've encountered dying indirectly or directly by the player.

Prototype makes fun of everyone as he pulls the most epic prank and reveals he's been Ollie for presumingly a long time now(who would've guessed) so every plan Poppy discussed should be thrown out the window because he already knows about it.

Huggy is back to give us a warm reunion hug after we kind of unintentionally dropped him fifty stories.

Now starting with the central characters:

Player Character:

At this point, they are without a doubt, questioning their existence as all they came for(presumingly, I'll get to later) was to see if their coworkers were still in the factory by an unknown, vague note. Now, they're tied up in a conflict between the toys and they're helping out Poppy(semi-forcefully as there weren't many options) by killing the Prototype and freeing the..."still alive" human Orphans(X to Doubt) kept asleep by the Prototype.

Their name is still unofficial, where they worked in the factory is still not confirmed though hinted to be one with the lab coats, and even Dr. Sawyer is questioning why they even returned.

I do like how the Doctor questions the player's morals and reasons for coming back since these questions have been lingering in some people's heads as well. It's also been explicitly clear that there's something different about the capabilities of this unknown employee as the Doctor states that he was trying to figure out what made the player so different.

Speaking of the Doctor, Harley Sawyer.

I liked him.

He was a really cool villain with interesting dialogue and his views on the Player as he constantly tests them. His voice, the TVs, his behavior, it all made him terrifying and strangely attractive to certain people in the fanbase.

However, I do agree that there could've been a little more done with the Doctor and the concept they went with. The TVs could function like cameras alerting Yarnaby if we get spotted such as the trailer of Yarnaby implied, we can have optional dialogue from Harley depending on our actions throughout the game(or just more of it), or we could have one main controlled TV robot that Harley uses to defend the system holding his consciousness.

I also do agree that his death was a little sudden and underwhelming compared to the chase leading up to it. You just press a button after running a bit and he screams. Then no more.

But overall, a nice addition.

Yarnaby:

I like Yarnaby as well, it was a shame he died halfway through the game as I would've liked to see Yarnaby try to defend Harley when we tried to shut him down rather than him getting caught/stuck/bit on some chains and randomly combusting into fire...I think we may need some more visual clarity on how that happened unless I wasn't looking closely enough.

But the way he moved and functioned always put me on edge and it fit well to what he was described in the ARG.

Is it bad that I wished the Doctor killed Yarnaby instead to mirror the Prototype killing Catnap?

Pianosaurus:

Dude got cheated so hard.

Like actually, it's kind of funny.

I can see why people were disappointed when his one shot in the trailer was literally his whole screen time before Doey killed him a second later. I think most, myself included, would've preferred if Pianosaurus, someone they've hyped up to be an antagonist for Chapter 4, had an area where we have to survive from him and when he backs us up in a corner, then Doey would've saved us from death. Similar to Miss Delight except Doey is the executioner instead of the player.

Doey:

He was decent.

I have to admit, I don't often get attached to characters such as allies like Dogday, Kissy, Poppy(absolutely not), and Doey is no exception. In other words, I didn't care much when he died.

His story was objectively tragic and he was overall a cool character with cool concepts. The fact that he became hostile to the Player by snapping after the Save Haven was wiped out was also an interesting and yet another tragic twist where the only option now is to kill Doey.

Not surprised he died. I did notice that like Dogday, a lot of the fanbase wished to save Doey as well and some may have been angry about this turn out on him. My response to that would be...it's a horror game, killing characters you like would be the go-to move to ensure it is tragic, disturbing, and scary. It would also show that you can't hope for the best in anything because the game can kill anybody.

Advice: If you like a character in a game like this, just expect them to die...or make a fanfic of saving them as coping.

Baba Chops and the Nightmare Critters:

Clearly, they have a vendetta against the Player if they're this. Fucking. Hostile.

There are hardly any moments with them when they're not just jumping you. But I think a nice edition since you have to use the flare gun more. I had a neat idea where they climb on top of each other into a large mass like a hivemind to make a big monster made up of mini critters but that could still work with Chapter 5, we'll just have to see.

Kissy Missy:

I was kind of surprised she was alive but I do like how despite her survival, she was still badly injured and couldn't help much...not that she helped much in the previous chapters without injuries. But she did try to help the player proving her to be generally a good person trying to help us.

Then again, that also relates to how good of a person the Player is and/or something we don’t know about her.

I'm expecting her to die in Chapter 5.

But first, I was to see a fight between an injured Huggy and an injured Kissy.

Poppy:

So....she wasn't that helpful. She pretty much told us what to do, we did it, then we get blamed for it by Doey because someone(Prototype) screwed over the explosives, he tried to kill us, and we killed him, Poppy then blames us for things we both did and didn't do, Prototype call, and she runs off.

I think in one of the VHS tapes(there are two about Poppy), we see a conversation between her and Ollie which shows us directly that she isn't exactly a cunning, evil betrayer but more of a scared experiment like the rest of the orphans with a very... tunnel-visioned plan and mindset. Or very, very desperate to blow stuff up.

She does run off and abandons the player and Kissy because the case must've sucked that badly which is weird because I would rather prefer being asleep in the case than being anywhere outside of it where toys could rip me to shreds. But hey, it's her opinion I suppose.

I am surprised not a single character had not mentioned or tried to drop-kick her. Killing her shouldn't be that hard...right?

Right...I'm guessing the reason why is because she doesn't stick around enough near the player to even encounter any of the big villains.

Ollie/Prototype:

Let's face it. We all knew it. The only person who was surprised was Poppy herself.

I actually enjoyed the reveal though, I think it was intense but very funny on how it was done.

Poppy blames us and then Ollie calls, the first thing he does is do the Playtime Equivalent of doxxing our location. Dude might as well just said our address over a COD lobby.

Then he pretty much makes fun of Poppy by telling her she needs to stop pretending to be stronger than she actually is(which is true).

Then he makes fun of the player by saying, "I got the bombs, thanks for getting them for me BTW!" as we hear beeping sounds below us.

Does a whole speech before Poppy bolts, abandoning us and he proceeds to make fun of that.

Then the floor explodes and we're in the Labs now.

Either the Prototype is a (10/10) funny character or maybe my humor is broken.

Long Story Short:

It's an improvement in many ways from previous chapters but I, like many others, think there could've been just a couple of additions to make it Peak but there were some good moments. Some good lore drops and information that may or may not have screwed over a couple of Au's(depending on who's in it) but it could be worked around.

They dived way deeper into how terrible Playtime Co. in the inside from both the perspectives of the workers as well as the toys. I love that.

I will still say that Chapter 3 is my favorite even with all of this considered(Because I love Catnap) but I do hope that they truly take their complete time on Chapter 5 to make it the best possible.

Anyhow, I can't wait for Chapter 5 to bring back Catnap(yes, I AM coping), totally bring him back, if Huggy could survive a fifty-story fall, Catnap could either be shocked back alive and/or survive a stab to the head. These toys were able to tank bullets in tapes, they could survive a bit of brain damage(or piercing) and burns.

Man...the Player might not be an "angel”.

[mrsriddlenott]

12 Days Of SmutMas

18+ Only!! My first Fic Event!!!!!

I am literally so excited to do this bc I wanted to do an October/Halloween event but didn’t have the time so I hope you guys are excited with meee!!!!

These fics will start coming out on the 5th and 6th, (I’m giving the first 4 days to see what requests I get), then every other day until Christmas Eve with the last one coming out on Christmas Day👏👏

[Requests Closed]

1. First Christmas ~ James Potter 12/5/23

Summary: You and James have your first Christmas in your new flat together. You two have fun buying new decorations and deciding where they’ll go while getting distracted in every room you put them in.

2. Christmas Movie Marathon ~ JJ Maybank 12/6/23

Summary: You, JJ, and the Pogues spend Christmas together in the chateau watching all your favorite holiday movies, until your mischievous boyfriend gets bored and wants to distract you as well.

3. Family Christmas ~ [closed] Theodore Nott & Mattheo Riddle 12/8/23

Summary: Theo brings you and Mattheo to his family’s Christmas dinner for the first time making you a nervous wreck, desperate to make a good impression. The boys notices your anxiety and decide to help you with your nerves in Theo’s bathroom before you eat with his family.

4. Santa Clause Is Coming To Town ~ Klaus Mikaelson 12/10/23

Summary: When Klaus mysteriously returns from New Orleans, the Mystic Falls gang worries about what he’s planning, though his only plan is to convince you to join him for Christmas in The Big Easy, by any means necessary. Starting with lavish gifts, attention, and affections, and ending with his mouth wherever you wish it.

5. Decorate With Me ~ [closed] Mattheo Riddle 12/12/23

Summary: Alpha!Mattheo is too lazy to decorate the house for the holiday’s, thinking it useless, you however entice him to decorate one thing at a time as you strip for him, teasing him and escaping his grasp until all that’s left to do is place the ornaments on the tree, leaving him to decorate you.

6. Secret Santa ~ bsf!Sirius Black 12/14/23

Summary: Sirius gets your name for Secret Santa and decides to prank you by having you open a dildo in front of all your friends. However, he’s shocked and flustered when you jokingly say you’re grateful and you’ll need it since your sex life is stale. In private, Sirius tells you he’d like to change that.

7. Stocking Stuffers ~ [closed] Mattheo Riddle & Theodore Nott 12/16/23

Summary: Insanely horny Mattheo and Theo help you decorate for Christmas in your cute holiday themed outfit and hear you refer to putting gifts in their stocking as needing to stuff their stockings, and can’t help but get distracted by the idea of stuffing your stickings with a gift too.

8. Scrooge ~ Rafe Cameron 12/18/23

Summary: Rafe never had much Christmas spirit, luckily his girlfriend absolutely had enough for both of them. Conflicts ensue as you attempt to get him festive, and when he wakes up in a sour mood on Christmas of all days, you’re not having it, giving him a Christmas gift from under the sheets that makes him the most jolly mother fucker in Tanneyhill.

9. You Ruined The Surprise ~ [closed] Anakin Skywalker 12/20/23

Summary: Emperor!Anakin walks in on you wrapping his gifts on Christmas Eve, making you fear the holiday to be ruined, but he reminds you he still gets to wait and unwrap his favorite gift under the tree, you. Leading to a long night of teasing until he can finally unwrap his gift in the morning.

10. Office Party ~ boss!Bucky Barnes x Reader 12/22/23

Summary: Your job’s annual Christmas party is approaching and for the first time since your recent divorce, you will be without a date. Unbeknownst to you your boss and mentor will be facing the same issue, leading to an unforeseen Christmas gift with many consequences.

11. Gingerbread Men ~ [closed] Lorenzo Berkshire 12/24/23

Summary: Dark!Enzo happily helps you decorate your Christmas cookies, laughing as you decorate gingerbread men to look like each other to eat. Enzo jokes that your homemade cookie tastes amazing but no where near as good as the real you, leading to kitchen shenanigans.

12. Christmas In Bed ~ 🎄🎁 12/25/23

Your Last Gift Will Be Opened On Christmas Day☺️😁

Please send Character Requests from any universe 👇below👇 for any of the prompts that are free. I am better at writing m&f smut but I am entirely welcome to any other pairing if I think I’m capable of writing it, poly couples are welcome!!

- HP Universe (any era, fanon&canon characters)

- TVD Universe (any of the 3 series’ characters)

- TWD Universe (main&FTWD characters pref.)

- Outer Banks

- The Umbrella Academy

- Star Wars (main&prequel trilogy pref.)

- Teen Wolf

- Stranger Things (will not write for the main kids)

- Supernatural

- MCU

Requests for this event are open until all free prompts are filled. Please include what relationship the character will have with the reader and the number of the prompt you want them to fill!!

- My Relationship/Smut Request Guidelines -

✅Best Friend x Reader

✅Bsf’s Sibling & Sibling’s Bsf x Reader

✅Friends W/ Benefits

✅New Step Sibling x Reader

✅Teacher/Professor x 18+ Reader

✅Alpha x Omega

✅Dominant x Submissive (hard&soft smut, I’m not good at writing Dom reader but I will try)

✅Power Imbalance (examples: boss,leader,blackmail,corruption kink, etc.)

✅Dark!Character x Reader (examples: obsessed,possessive,criminal, etc.)

❌Real Ince$t

❌Be$tiality

❌Minor x Adult

❌Non/Dub Consent

❌Cheating on or with Reader

~~~~

Taglist (lmk if u want on or off, my main taglist rn is just my HP taglist tbh)

@timmytime17 @talia-scar123 @spencer-reids-wife @ttsbaby01 @animorose @whydoireadanymore @thievin-stealing @spiderman-stilinski @evycloudberry @shady-the-simp @ashisabitgay @porterport @callsignwidow @cicicicicisstuff @mattheoriddleswifee @junebugin-july @moonlightreader649 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @rubyliquor @perverteddsdreams @mildly-delulu @fairydimples07 @shadowmoonlight0604 @80scinemvasworld @nevillescomslut @annaisabookworm @abaker74 @athenalikethegoddess @limeren @h-------n @kezibear @mattheoriddlemarcuslopez @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @curiousshifter101 @tobyr68 @spididerman @hedwigprewett12 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kiwi475

[grifffins]

🔮 The Fool’s Journey (Into Trouble) 🔮 | Ch. 4

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

summary: a special night, a well intentioned plan, and an unexpected turn of events, because nothing is ever simple.

wc: 9.7k (Chapter 4/?)

Ch. 3 ch.5

also on ao3

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning, I showed up at Agatha’s place with a bag of pastries, a half-hearted smile, and the weight of last night still pressing heavily on my chest. I hadn’t slept a wink. Not after that phone call.

Agatha, lounging in her kitchen in a silk robe like the dramatic menace she was, raised an eyebrow as I walked in. “y/n, darling, it’s early.” She eyed the bag in my hand. “And you brought breakfast. What happened?”

I sighed, dropping into a chair across from her and placing the pastries on the table. “Nothing.”

She gave me a look.

I groaned, rubbing my face. “Okay, not nothing, but she didn’t text.”

Agatha reached for a croissant, looking far too calm for my liking. “Oh, girl, it’s fine. She’s older. She’s probably gonna wash them, fold them neatly, and hand them back to you like it’s no big deal.” She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe even with a stern talk about respecting personal space.”

I groaned louder, slumping forward onto the table. “I hate that you’re probably right.”

Agatha smirked. “I am right.”

I took a deep breath, the paper bag crinkling under my nervous fingers. “Except...”

Her chewing slowed. “Except?”

I glanced up, nervous. “I... got a phone call last night.”

Agatha blinked. “From?”

I looked at her pointedly. “Who do you think?”

Her eyes widened in slow realisation, and she put the croissant down with a level of focus that scared me. “y/n.”

I exhaled sharply. “Yeah.”

She leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with dangerous intrigue. “What did she say?”

I chewed my lip, my face heating up just thinking about it. “She, uh... she said I left my panties there.”

Agatha’s mouth fell open, and for a split second, I thought she might actually scream. But instead, she just stared at me, eyes wide with delight. “She called you... to tell you... you left your panties there.”

I nodded, face burning. “Uh-huh.”

Agatha’s hands hit the table. “And then?”

I swallowed. “And then... I told her to just throw them out or put them aside, and she... she hummed.”

Agatha gasped like I’d just revealed the secret to eternal youth. “She hummed? Oh, she was thinking things.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Agatha—”

She ignored me, practically bouncing in her seat. “And?”

I peeked through my fingers. “And... I heard something.”

Agatha froze. “Something?”

I swallowed hard, unable to look at her. “A... moan.”

Agatha shot out of her chair, cackling like a witch in a fairytale. “Y/N!” she shouted, pacing back and forth. “YOU MINX! YOU SUCCUBUS!”

I groaned, sinking deeper into my seat. “I hate you.”

Agatha ignored me, fully absorbed in her dramatic meltdown. “Oh my God. This is incredible. She’s absolutely feral for you.”

I groaned. “She hung up, Agatha.”

Agatha stopped mid-step, turning to me with a sharp grin. “Because she’s freaking out.” She pointed dramatically. “This is fantastic.”

I sighed. “I don’t know, she sounded... conflicted. She said she can’t, and then she hung up.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, sitting back down. “Ugh, of course she did. The age gap thing. She’s still in her head about it.”

I slumped in my chair. “So what do I do?”

Agatha sipped her coffee, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You keep doing what you’re doing.”

I groaned. “That’s your advice?”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s clearly working.”

I shook my head, staring at the pastries on the table. “This is insane.”

Agatha grinned. “Welcome to seducing an older woman, sweetheart.”

I exhaled sharply. “So... I just pretend like nothing happened?”

Agatha smirked. “For now. Let her think about you. And when she finally snaps?” She leaned in, eyes gleaming. “You’ll be there.”

I sighed, stuffing a pastry into my mouth. “I hate you so much.”

Agatha just laughed, looking far too pleased with herself. “Oh, y/n, baby, you love me.”

Saturday night rolled around, and the coven trickled into Agatha’s place like they owned it, which, honestly, they kind of did. I was still there, curled up on the couch, nursing a drink and hoping, praying, that Agatha wouldn’t spill the details.

But of course, that hope was in vain.

Because, naturally, Agatha had already told the entire coven.

By the time I realized, it was too late. The knowing smirks, the barely contained giggles, the way Billy practically vibrated with excitement, it all spelled doom for me.

Agatha, unfazed, continued with the same gleeful energy. “Lilia Calderu, Queen of Restraint, called Y/N late last night, panting.”

The coven, of course, took it as their personal mission to prepare me for Monday morning. There were whispered plans, far too many suggestions, and even a suspiciously detailed list Jen had started drafting on her phone.

Monday arrived far too quickly, and despite every nerve in my body screaming at me to call in sick and hide under my blankets forever, I found myself standing outside Lilia’s shop.

I took a deep breath, smoothing down the perfect little black dress I’d picked out. Classy but just fitted enough to remind her exactly what she saw the other day. Underneath, of course, I’d made sure to wear lingerie that made me feel dangerous. Black lace, delicate straps, the whole thing. Just... in case.

“Alright,” I whispered to myself, gripping the handle. “Aloof. Mysterious. Subtle.”

I pushed the door open, the familiar chime ringing through the air. Lilia was behind the counter, as usual, flipping through a book, but the moment the bell rang, her head snapped up.

And oh, the way her eyes trailed over me.

I could feel it, her gaze, slow and deliberate, like she was remembering exactly what had happened. The muscles in her jaw tightened, and for a split second, I saw her throat bob as she swallowed.

But her face? Composed as ever.

“Morning, baby.” Her voice was smooth, but there was a tension beneath it, like she was trying to act normal.

I smiled, stepping inside and casually placing my bag behind the counter. “Morning, Lilia.”

I didn’t mention the phone call. I didn’t mention the incident. I just let it hang there, unspoken and electric in the air between us.

Lilia’s eyes stayed on me a second too long before she cleared her throat and flipped a page in her book. “Got a shipment today. You can start with the inventory.”

I nodded, flashing her an easy smile. “Sure thing.” I stepped past her, and I swore I felt her gaze on my back.

The morning passed in a series of quiet, loaded moments. I worked diligently, organising shelves and restocking candles, and Lilia hovered, always just close enough to keep me on edge but far enough to avoid conversation.

I took my chance while sorting crystals behind the counter. “You know,” I said lightly, not looking up, “I always seem to leave things behind in the weirdest places.”

Lilia froze for half a second. I heard the subtle intake of breath before she spoke. “Do you?”

I smiled to myself, running my fingers over a smooth amethyst. “Mmhm. Like, one time? I left a bra at Agatha’s, and she wouldn’t stop bringing it up for weeks.”

Lilia made a small sound that could have been a laugh, or a groan. “Sounds like her.”

I glanced up just in time to catch the way her fingers were gripping the edge of the counter a little too tightly.

Oh, she was thinking about it.

An hour later, Lilia passed me a stack of incense, and I let my fingers brush against hers, just a second too long. She didn’t pull away immediately, but when she did, it was stiff, deliberate. Her lips pressed together like she was holding back words.

I smirked. “Thanks.”

She cleared her throat. “Sure.”

Progress.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was sitting behind the counter when she brought over my tea. She set it down carefully, her eyes flickering to mine before she spoke. “How was your weekend? Enjoy your... time off?”

My heart pounded, but I kept my expression casual. “It was good. Relaxing.” I sipped my tea, watching her over the rim of the cup. “You?”

She hummed, toying with the rings on her fingers. “Quiet.”

I leaned back in my chair, letting my legs cross slowly. “Sometimes quiet is good.”

Her eyes flickered down for the briefest moment, and I knew she was remembering. But instead of saying anything, she just nodded. “Mm.”

I fought the urge to smirk. She was stewing. Oh, she was definitely stewing.

By the end of the day, Lilia was tense, more fidgety than usual, like she was holding something in. But she didn’t bring up the phone call. Didn’t mention the lingerie.

As I gathered my things, I glanced at her, offering an easy smile. “See you tomorrow?”

Lilia, who had been wiping down the counter with more force than necessary, stilled for a moment. Her dark eyes met mine, and for a split second, something flickered there something dangerous, something hungry.

But then she nodded. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

I walked out of the shop, feeling her eyes follow me the whole way.

The second I got into my car, I pulled out my phone.

Me: She’s cracking.

A second later, the group chat exploded.

Billy: Yesssss!Agatha: Details. Now.Jen: What did you say?Alice: y/n, this is dangerous... and I’m so here for it.

I grinned, leaning back in my seat.

Me: It’s a slow burn, baby.

The next day, I walked into the shop with the same air of casual confidence, ready to push Lilia just a little further. I wore another sleek black outfit, this time paired with a smirk that I hoped would get under her skin. If yesterday was any indication, I was getting to her. And today? Today was round two.

Lilia was already behind the counter, arranging a set of tarot cards with the kind of focused energy that screamed I am not thinking about y/n. But the second the door chimed, her shoulders stiffened, and her eyes flicked up to me.

"Morning," I chirped, setting my bag down.

She barely glanced at me. "You're late."

I blinked. "I'm five minutes early."

She pressed her lips together, flipping a card over a little too aggressively. "Well, don't waste time standing around."

I raised an eyebrow. Oh, we were going there today, huh?

I grabbed a box of candles and started stocking them on the shelves, feeling Lilia’s gaze burning into the side of my head. The tension in the air was palpable, thicker than yesterday. Every time I moved, I could feel her watching me, and I knew she was still thinking about Saturday night. About me.

I decided to test the waters. “Slept well?” I asked innocently, glancing over my shoulder.

Lilia's jaw clenched, and she slammed the deck of cards onto the counter with a little too much force. "Focus on your work, y/n."

I grinned. Oh, she was absolutely losing it.

The day went on like that, every small flirtation, every brush of my hand near hers, every casual comment pushing her closer to the edge. And it worked.

She was snapping at me.

"y/n, put those in order properly," she huffed when I stacked the incense too fast.

"y/n, don't touch that shelf, I'll do it myself."

"y/n, are you listening?"

I turned around slowly, a deliberately sweet smile on my face. “I’m always listening, Lilia.”

Her nostrils flared, and for a moment, I thought she might actually strangle me with a piece of twine. Instead, she turned away sharply, muttering something under her breath in Italian that I was pretty sure wasn’t a compliment.

Agatha would be thrilled.

By mid-afternoon, it was clear Lilia was teetering on the edge. I could see the way she avoided looking at me directly, the way she kept fidgeting with her rings, the way she was biting the inside of her cheek like it was the only thing keeping her together.

When I passed her a book, I let my fingers linger just a second too long.

She snatched it from my hand. “Stop hovering.”

I blinked, feigning innocence. “I’m not hovering.”

“You’re something,” she muttered, shoving the book onto the shelf and turning her back to me.

I grinned. “You okay, Lilia?”

That did it. She turned around so fast I almost took a step back. Her eyes locked onto mine, sharp and frustrated. “No, I am not okay, y/n. You’ve been—” She stopped herself, exhaling sharply through her nose. “Just... do your job, please.”

I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “Of course, boss.”

She narrowed her eyes, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like troublemaker, and walked away.

When my shift ended, I lingered by the door, watching her. “Hey, Lilia?”

She didn’t look up. “What?”

I hesitated, just enough to let her think I was about to say something important. Then I smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her jaw clenched, and she didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, finally, she nodded. “Goodnight, y/n.”

I stepped outside, my phone already buzzing with incoming messages from the coven.

Jen: Update?Billy: Is she dead? Are YOU dead?Agatha: Tell me she snapped.

I smirked, typing back quickly.

Me: She’s cracking. Snapping at me all day.

Agatha’s response came almost immediately.

Agatha: She’s holding on by a THREAD.

I sighed, staring at Lilia’s shop through the window, watching her rub at her temples, clearly frustrated with something, probably me.

By the time Thursday rolled around, I was done. The whole week had been the same dance, Lilia snapping at me, me pushing her buttons, both of us pretending like we weren’t this close to cracking under the tension.

I was losing it. She was losing it. And frankly, I was getting bored.

So, as we stood behind the counter late in the afternoon, reorganising the tarot decks for the third time that week, I decided to change things up.

“Hey, Lilia,” I asked casually, stacking a deck back into place. “What’s your star sign?”

She barely glanced up, as if the question was too trivial for her to care about. “Pisces.”

I paused. “Wait. That’s now, isn’t it?”

She hummed, flipping through a book absentmindedly. “Oh... yes. My birthday’s tomorrow.”

I gawked at her. “Tomorrow? Lilia! You didn’t say anything?”

She shrugged, her lips quirking in that infuriatingly serene way she always did when she was being impossible. “Birthdays come and go, baby. After a few decades, they lose their charm.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Lilia, you’re not that old.”

She gave me a pointed look, and I could practically hear the unspoken Oh, I am.

I shook my head, leaning against the counter. “Age is but a number, Lilia. Don’t pull that ‘I’m ancient and wise’ crap with me.”

Her lips twitched, and for a moment, I thought she might smile, but instead, she just sighed and shrugged again. “I suppose.”

I stared at her, feeling something tighten in my chest. She really didn’t think much of it, didn’t expect anyone to celebrate her, and that... didn’t sit right with me. Not at all.

A determined spark lit in my chest, and I pushed off the counter with new purpose. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gave me a curious look. “In one piece, hopefully.”

I smirked, already halfway out the door. “No promises.”

I stepped out onto the street, determination in my step.

I knew exactly what to do.

That night, I didn’t just sit around overanalysing every interaction I’d had with Lilia like usual, I acted. There was this rare book she had mentioned months ago, an old, out-of-print tome she’d been trying to get her hands on forever.

I remember the way her eyes had lit up when she spoke about it, the way she traced invisible patterns in the air as if she could pull it out of existence herself. Lilia didn’t ask for much, she never did, but I knew she wanted this.

Originally, I had planned to tell her I found it, let her bask in the victory of the hunt. But when I found out tomorrow was her birthday, I knew this had to be a gift. A surprise.

I travelled far that night, further than I’d care to admit, tracking down the first edition of the book. It was tucked away in some dusty little shop that smelled of old paper and forgotten magic. The owner had given me a suspicious look when I eagerly snatched it up, and paid a hefty tonne, but I didn’t care.

This was for her.

And because I wasn’t entirely selfless, I also grabbed a box of cannoli from the best bakery in town. Some for Lilia, and, well, some for me. Because priorities.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted but grinning like an idiot as I carefully wrapped the book. I took my time, picking out the perfect paper, deep burgundy with gold detailing, something elegant and fitting for her.

The next morning, I arrived at the shop, trying to play it cool but practically buzzing with excitement beneath the surface.

Lilia looked up from behind the counter as the door chime rang, her eyes flickering over me with that same unreadable expression she always wore when she was trying not to show too much. “Morning, baby.”

I smiled, holding up the box and the carefully wrapped book. “Happy birthday, Lilia.”

Her brows lifted, surprised. “You remembered?”

I scoffed. “I mean you literally told me yesterday.”

She tilted her head, eyeing the package suspiciously. “What is this?”

I smirked. “Just... something I thought you’d like.”

Lilia eyed me for a moment longer, then took the book from my hands with a quiet reverence. She traced the wrapping paper with delicate fingers before carefully peeling it away.

The second she saw the book, her breath caught. I watched as her eyes widened, and for the first time in a long time, she looked genuinely, utterly speechless.

“A first edition,” she whispered, turning it over gently in her hands. “y/n...”

I shrugged, trying not to let the warmth creeping up my neck show. “You deserve nice things.”

She looked at me, something soft in her expression that made my stomach flip. “You shouldn’t have.”

I grinned, holding up the box of cannoli. “I really should have. Plus, I brought cannoli. Birthday rule, you have to eat them.”

That got a small chuckle out of her, and I nearly melted on the spot. “You are... ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. But her voice was softer, warmer than usual.

I grinned. “And you love it.”

She didn’t deny it. Instead, she set the book down carefully and stepped around the counter, resting a hand lightly on my arm. Her touch was gentle, lingering just long enough to make my heart pound.

“Thank you,” she said, and it wasn���t just for the book, I could hear that much in her voice.

I smiled, hoping she couldn’t hear how fast my heart was racing. “Happy birthday, Lilia.”

Lilia stood there for a moment, picking up the book again, and holding it like it was something delicate, precious. I watched as her thumb traced over the embossed lettering on the spine, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. It wasn’t the usual teasing smirk, nor the amused grin she gave when she was indulging my antics, this was softer. Almost... nostalgic.

I felt my chest tighten a little at the sight.

"You really went out of your way for this," she murmured, still staring down at the book, as if she couldn't quite believe it was real.

I shrugged, offering a lopsided smile. "I mean... it's not every day a person like you has a birthday. You deserve it."

Her gaze flicked up to mine, and for a split second, something unreadable passed through her eyes, something warm, something that made me feel seen.

“I stopped counting after a while,” she said softly, almost like she was speaking to herself. “At some point, it just felt... easier.”

I swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, well... I think birthdays are kind of like books.”

She tilted her head curiously. “Oh?”

I smirked. “You can skip a few pages, but they’re still there. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stop and appreciate a good chapter.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d said too much. But then she smiled, small and genuine, and it was like watching sunlight peek through the clouds. “You have a way with words, y/n.”

I grinned, nudging the cannoli box between us. “And a way with baked goods. Eat.”

She chuckled, the sound low and rich, before pulling the box closer. “You’re relentless.”

“Mmhm,” I agreed, sliding onto a stool and watching as she picked up one of the pastries, taking a delicate bite. She hummed in approval, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief second, and I swear my heart stuttered.

“Good?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

She nodded, licking a bit of powdered sugar from her thumb in a way that made me forget how to breathe properly. “Delizioso.”

I grinned. “Glad you like it. Happy birthday, Lilia.”

She looked at me for a long moment, something thoughtful in her gaze. “I can’t remember the last time someone actually did something like this for me.”

I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat. “You should get used to it.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “Is that so?”

I nodded, leaning on the counter. “Yeah. You’re stuck with me, after all.”

Lilia didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, her fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. My breath caught in my throat, and I saw the way her eyes darkened slightly before she pulled back, retreating into her usual composed self.

“Thank you, baby,” she said again, softer this time.

I smiled, feeling something shift between us, something warmer, steadier, and not just flirtation or teasing. It was real. And it was... nice.

We sat there for a while, eating pastries in comfortable silence, the air thick with something unspoken but not unwelcome. Lilia flipped through the pages of her new book, occasionally glancing up at me with something almost resembling fondness.

And for once, I didn’t push. I just enjoyed it.

By the time the shop closed, I had basically forced myself into staying for dinner. Not that Lilia put up much of a fight. She’d given me one of those long, knowing looks, but in the end, she didn’t argue.

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes but with a soft smile tugging at her lips. "But you’re ordering."

I grinned, pulling out my phone. "Don’t worry, I’ve got impeccable taste."

"That’s debatable," she muttered, but there was warmth in her voice.

I made quick work of ordering our meal, Italian, of course, because if we were celebrating, we were doing it right. And I made sure to include a bottle of wine because no birthday dinner should be without it.

Lilia busied herself setting the table, and I could tell by the way she moved, calm and deliberate, that she was enjoying this, even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud.

When the food arrived, I poured us each a glass, raising mine with a grin. "To... enduring another year?"

Lilia smirked, clinking her glass with mine. "To surviving you."

I laughed, taking a sip. "I'll take it."

The night passed in an easy rhythm comfortable, filled with laughter and stories. Lilia told me a few ridiculous tales from her younger years, and I hung onto every word, savouring the way her face softened, how she relaxed completely in my presence.

There was something about seeing her like this, outside of her usual composed and enigmatic self, that made my chest ache in the best way.

"You know," I said, swirling the wine in my glass. "You should let people celebrate you more often."

She glanced at me, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe I don’t need to... with you around."

I nearly choked on my drink.

Lilia, of course, just took another sip of her wine, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Careful, baby. Don’t spill."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through my chest.

As the night wound down, I found myself reluctant to leave. I lingered at the door, shifting awkwardly. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Lilia tilted her head, looking at me with something I couldn't quite place. "y/n, I'm always okay."

I chewed my lip. "I know, but... you know what I mean."

Her lips twitched in that small, almost-smile again. "You’ve done more than enough tonight. Go home. Sleep."

I sighed, knowing she was right but still hesitant. "Fine. But you have to promise me you'll finish the cannoli."

She chuckled. "Promise."

I hesitated one last moment, then smiled, stepping back onto the sidewalk. "Happy birthday again, Lilia."

She watched me for a second, leaning against the doorframe. "Thank you, y/n."

And with that, I walked away, feeling lighter than I had in days, a quiet kind of happiness settling in my chest.

Because I had made her happy. And that was enough for now.

The next morning, I woke up feeling good. Like, really good. I stretched out in bed, a lazy smile on my face as I replayed last night over in my head Lilia, the dinner, the quiet moments between us. It was perfect.

I was happy, and nothing was going to ruin that.

And then—BANG BANG BANG.

I groaned, dragging myself out of bed and shuffling to the door. The second I cracked it open, Jen stood there, arms crossed, wearing an expression that told me she needed something.

"Hey," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "How you doing?"

I squinted at her, suspicious. "Uh... good?"

Before I could question further, Agatha barged in, pushing past me like she owned the place. "Okay, we need you. Now."

I blinked. "Y’all okay?"

Agatha flopped onto my couch dramatically. "No, y/n, we are not okay. We need help. Big time."

I raised an eyebrow. "With...?"

Jen sighed, rubbing her temples. "Agatha volunteered us for this stupid fundraiser."

"Which is not stupid," Agatha interrupted. "It’s a brilliant way to network and boost community morale."

Jen shot her a glare. “It has nothing to do with the hot woman organising it hm?”

“No..” Agatha replied.

Jen rolled her eyes. "It’s a tug-of-war tournament. And now we’re stuck organising it."

I stared at them. "You’re kidding."

Agatha grinned. "Absolutely not."

I sighed, rubbing my face. "Why do I feel like saying no isn’t an option?"

Jen smirked. "Because it’s not."

I groaned but grabbed my jacket anyway. "Shit, okay. I’ll help. Let’s go."

The day actually started off... fun.

The whole event was chaotic but good-spirited, teams yelling, people cheering, and me getting roped into far more physical activity than I anticipated. Agatha, of course, was in her element, shouting commands and taunting opposing teams like she was leading an army into battle.

Jen was running around trying to keep things organised while Billy kept disappearing to "network" (read: flirt with the cute event volunteers). Alice hovered nearby, alternating between cheering and looking concerned about potential injuries, which, in hindsight, was valid.

Because it happened.

One second I was laughing, pulling on the rope with everything I had, and the next—snap. Something went in my leg, and I went down hard.

The world tilted, pain lancing through me so suddenly I barely registered the shouting around me.

"y/n!"

"Shit, she’s hurt!"

"Call an ambulance!"

Everything blurred after that, my vision swimming as the pain settled in, sharp and relentless. Next thing I knew, the girls were around me, their faces a mix of panic and concern.

"Okay, okay, we're taking you to the hospital," Jen said, voice tight with worry.

"I’m fine," I tried to say, but Agatha shut me down with a sharp look. "No, you're not. Shut up and let us help you."

And before I could argue, I was being rushed off to the hospital, my leg screaming with every movement.

The hospital was a blur of bright lights, antiseptic smells, and too many people talking at once.

The moment we got there, they took one look at me pale, sweaty, clearly in a lot of pain and whisked me off to a room immediately.

"Okay," Billy said, pacing as the nurses worked. "I am officially not a fan of tug-of-war anymore."

Agatha hovered near my bedside, arms crossed, face serious for once. "Don’t try to act tough, y/n. We’ll get through this."

I winced, trying to breathe through the pain. "I'm not dying, Agatha."

Jen was at my other side, gripping my hand. "Shut up and squeeze if you need to."

I groaned, closing my eyes. "I just wanted to have a good day..."

The next night, I finally got released from the hospital. My leg was still throbbing, and I’d been given a pair of crutches that I was absolutely going to end up tripping over at some point. But at least I was home.

The coven had been great, hovering over me, arguing with the doctors, sneaking me snacks I probably wasn’t supposed to have. But in all the chaos, none of us had remembered to do one very important thing: tell Lilia.

And, of course, my phone had been dead the entire time. No charging cable, no nothing. I’d been completely cut off.

I collapsed onto my couch, letting out a deep sigh, relieved to finally be in my own space again. I was about to close my eyes when—

BANG BANG BANG.

I groaned, already knowing who it was. “Jesus, Agatha, one second!” I yelled, struggling to maneuver myself off the couch and onto the crutches.

Grumbling, I hobbled my way to the door, crutches clacking against the floor. “If you’ve brought another ridiculous get-well gift, I swear—”

I swung the door open.

And froze.

Lilia.

She stood there, arms crossed, her dark eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern. Her expression was sharp, her jaw set tight, and I could see the way her eyes flickered from my face down to the crutches.

There was a beat of silence where neither of us spoke. Then—

“Y/n.” Her voice was low, clipped.

I swallowed hard. “Hey, Lilia...”

Her eyes darkened. “Hey?” she repeated, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Do you have any idea—” She stopped, taking a deep breath, visibly trying to keep her composure. “I’ve been calling you all day.”

I winced, suddenly feeling very guilty. “Yeah, uh... my phone was dead. And things got kinda... hectic.”

Her eyes darted down to the crutches again, and I watched as her frustration flickered into something softer, concern, worry, but it didn’t erase the pissed look on her face. “Clearly.”

I sighed, shifting awkwardly on my feet. “Lilia, I—”

“What happened?” she interrupted, her voice gentler this time, but her expression still firm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but the way she was looking at me like she’d been worried sick, made the words stick in my throat. “It was stupid. A fundraiser thing… I got hurt, and they took me to the hospital.”

Lilia’s lips pressed into a thin line, and I could feel the tension radiating off her. “You were in the hospital, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

I groaned, leaning against the doorframe. “I forgot, okay? I was kinda busy... you know, writhing in pain.”

Her eyes flashed with something I couldn’t quite place, anger, yes, but also something deeper, something that made my chest feel tight.

Lilia stepped closer, reaching out to touch my arm gently. “You scared me,” she admitted quietly, and it hit me like a punch to the gut. “I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

I swallowed hard, guilt settling heavily in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples before finally meeting my gaze again. “You’re too much trouble, baby.”

I smirked weakly. “You love it.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, which told me everything I needed to know.

Instead, she glanced around my apartment, her hands on her hips. “Alright, sit down before you fall over.”

I blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I’m staying,” she said simply, already locking the door behind her. “You can’t even get to the door properly, y/n. What if you need something?”

I opened my mouth to argue but quickly shut it because... well, she wasn’t wrong.

I hobbled back to the couch, collapsing onto it with a groan. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” she interrupted, grabbing the crutches and setting them aside. “But I am.”

I watched her settle into my space with ease, already moving to grab a blanket from the chair and tossing it over me like I was some fragile thing.

And despite everything, the pain, the exhaustion, the embarrassment, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks, Lilia.”

She smirked, sitting beside me, but there was something softer in her eyes now. “Just don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

I nodded, feeling warm despite everything. “Okay.”

And for the first time in two days, I felt like everything might actually be okay

As I sat there on the couch, bundled up under the blanket Lilia had so casually thrown over me, I found myself watching her.

She had gotten back up and moved around my apartment with quiet curiosity, her fingers grazing the spines of books on my shelves, pausing to examine the odd trinket or framed photo. She wasn’t touching much, but I could see the way her eyes flickered over everything, taking it all in.

It hit me suddenly, like a delayed slap to the face.

“Wait a second,” I blurted out, narrowing my eyes at her. “How the hell did you know where I live?”

Lilia paused, mid-glance at a stack of records on my side table. Then, slowly, so slowly, she turned to me with that signature smirk of hers. The one that said you already know the answer, baby.

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Agatha.”

Lilia’s smirk widened ever so slightly. “It was Agatha.”

I sighed, leaning my head back against the couch. “Of course it was Agatha.”

“She was... concerned,” Lilia said, a little too innocently, wandering back toward me. “And, well, I might have been... insistent.”

I stared at her, mouth agape. “You bullied Agatha into telling you where I live?”

Lilia shrugged, not denying it, her brown eyes glinting with something that might’ve been amusement, if she weren’t so clearly still upset.

I couldn’t even be mad. The idea of Agatha, the queen of meddling, actually folding under Lilia’s persistence was almost impressive.

Lilia hovered near the edge of the couch, arms crossed, looking like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure where to start.

For all the teasing and banter we usually shared, tonight felt... different. More serious. She wasn’t flirting, wasn’t deflecting with sly remarks or eye rolls. She was worried. I could see it in the way she kept glancing at my leg, at the crutches, the way her jaw kept tensing like she wanted to say something but held it back.

I cleared my throat. “You can sit down, you know.”

Lilia sighed, finally lowering herself onto the armrest of the couch. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, a rare display of unease. “You scared me, y/n,” she admitted quietly, her voice softer than usual.

My chest tightened. “I know. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, her eyes searching mine. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve...” She trailed off, frustration evident in her voice.

I smiled weakly. “What? Stolen an ambulance and rushed to my side?”

For once, Lilia didn’t take the bait. She just huffed out a breath, lips pressing into a thin line. “You joke, but I would have done something.”

I blinked at her, my heart doing something stupid in my chest.

“Lilia,” I said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on hers. “I’m okay. Really.”

She exhaled, and for the first time tonight, I saw a small crack in that perfectly composed exterior of hers. “I know,” she murmured. “I just... I don’t like not knowing where you are. If you’re safe.”

I squeezed her hand gently, offering a smile. “I’ll charge my phone next time. Promise.”

She shook her head with a soft laugh, but I could see the tension still lingering in her shoulders.

“You need to eat something,” she said, standing abruptly and heading into my kitchen like she owned the place. “You probably haven’t had a proper meal all day.”

I watched her disappear behind the counter, hearing the familiar rustling of cabinets.

Despite the ache in my leg, despite the lingering guilt, I found myself smiling.

Even without flirting, even without teasing, Lilia being here, taking care of me in her own way, meant more than I could admit.

And as she returned with a plate of something vaguely nutritious, setting it in front of me with a pointed look, I knew one thing for sure.

I was so in trouble.

After finishing the food, thanks to Lilia’s relentless hovering. I could feel exhaustion pulling me under like a heavy wave. My eyes kept fluttering shut, my body aching, and Lilia, ever observant, noticed immediately.

“Alright, baby,” she said, standing up with that no-nonsense tone. “You need to go to bed.”

I groaned, rubbing my face. “Yeah, yeah.” I tried to push myself off the couch, but the crutches were awkward, and my leg throbbed in protest.

Before I could even attempt it, Lilia was already by my side, steadying me with a firm but gentle grip. “Careful,” she murmured, slipping an arm around my waist to help me up.

I sighed, leaning into her a little. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

She smirked, leading me toward my bedroom. “Lucky me.”

We reached the doorway, and as she helped me inside, I glanced at her with a lazy grin. “So... are you gonna help me get changed, too?”

Lilia immediately stepped back like I’d suggested something scandalous, her face twisting into a look of horror. “No way am I doing that.”

I pouted dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

She rolled her eyes. “I have my limits, y/n. Get yourself sorted.”

With a dramatic sigh, I hobbled to my dresser and grabbed some pajamas. “You’re missing out.”

She muttered something in Italian under her breath and left the room before I could tease her any further.

Once I managed to get into my pajamas, a feat that should have won me some sort of award, I stumbled into bed, sighing in relief as my body melted into the mattress. I barely had time to relish the comfort before I heard Lilia’s voice again.

She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me carefully. “Okay,” she said, her voice softer now. “I’ll go home. See you tomorrow.”

My stomach twisted a little at the thought of her leaving. “Wait,” I called out, my voice a little more urgent than I intended.

Lilia stopped, turning slightly. “What?”

I swallowed, shifting under the blankets. “Stay.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

I sighed. “It’s late. Really late. Stay, it’s safer.”

She frowned, clearly weighing the idea. “And... sleep where, exactly?”

I patted the empty space beside me on the bed, offering a cheeky grin. “Right here.”

Lilia’s frown deepened, her eyes flickering between me and the spot I’d gestured to. “y/n... I don’t think that’s the smartest idea.”

I sighed, trying a different tactic. “What if I need to get up in the middle of the night? What if I stumble and fall and hurt myself more, and there’s no one here to help?”

That did it.

Lilia let out a long, exasperated sigh, and I could practically see the internal battle she was having with herself.

After a long pause, she finally muttered, “You’re impossible.”

I smirked. “I know.”

She shot me a warning look but closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge with clear reluctance. “Just for tonight.”

I grinned, scooting over as best as I could to make room. “Mhm. Sure.”

Lilia sighed again but slipped off her shoes and eased onto the bed beside me, lying stiffly at first, clearly overthinking every inch of space between us.

I reached over and tugged the blanket over her, letting my hand linger just for a second. “Relax, Lilia. It’s just sleeping.”

She huffed, staring at the ceiling. “If you snore, I’m leaving.”

I closed my eyes, already feeling sleep pulling at me. “I don’t snore... much.”

A small chuckle escaped her, and despite the teasing, I felt the way she subtly shifted closer, just enough for the warmth between us to fill the space.

And with that, I drifted off, the last thing I heard being her soft sigh beside me.

I woke up slowly, feeling warm, too warm. Something solid and soft pressed against me, and I sighed contentedly, snuggling in closer without thinking, my body instinctively seeking out the heat.

It was only when I felt a slow, steady breath against the back of my neck that my still sleepy brain finally caught up.

Oh.

My eyes fluttered open, and I immediately froze.

Lilia was spooning me.

Not just spooning, full on wrapped around me. Her arm was draped across my waist, her hand resting against my stomach, fingers curled lightly against the fabric of my shirt. Her legs, tangled with mine, fit like they belonged there, one of them slotted between my own, locking me in place.

My heart pounded so hard I was convinced she’d wake up from the sheer force of it.

Oh. Oh my God.

I barely dared to breathe, torn between sheer panic and the undeniable fact that this felt... really, really nice.

I closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to stay calm, but then she shifted against me in her sleep just a little, just enough for her nose to nuzzle against my neck, and a soft, sleepy sigh escaped her lips.

I nearly died right then and there.

For a second, I considered saying screw it and pretending to still be asleep forever, just to savour this ridiculous, impossible situation. But then I remembered, Lilia Calderu was not exactly the type to take things like this lightly.

I swallowed hard, trying to formulate an escape plan.

Okay. I could gently wiggle out of her grip without waking her, maybe slide a pillow in my place and—

Before I could even think of moving, I heard a sleepy, low hum from behind me.

And then, the realisation hit. She was waking up.

I felt her body tense slightly, and then there was a pause, a long pause.

She must have realised it too because, in the next breath, I felt her entire body go still, like she was debating whether or not to move.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to play it cool, but my body betrayed me when I felt a nervous shiver run down my spine.

Lilia's hand twitched against my stomach, and then, in a slow, careful movement, she untangled herself from me.

She pulled back just enough to put space between us, and I could feel the tension in the air, thick and crackling like a live wire.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice scratchy with sleep, but there was an unmistakable edge of embarrassment laced into it.

I swallowed, keeping my face turned away, willing my voice to sound normal. "Morning."

Lilia cleared her throat, and I heard the rustling of sheets as she fully sat up, probably running a hand through her hair in that way she always did when she was flustered but didn’t want to show it.

I turned onto my back slowly, blinking up at her. She was sitting there, rubbing her temple, her eyes avoiding mine entirely.

"So, uh..." I said awkwardly, tugging the blanket up over myself a little more. "Good sleep?"

She gave me a look, her cheeks slightly pink. "It was... fine."

I smirked. "Fine, huh?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she pointed a warning finger at me. "Don't."

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. "I'm just saying, you were very comfortable."

Lilia groaned, rubbing her face. "I don’t want to talk about it."

"Sure you don’t," I teased, my grin widening.

She shot me a glare, but there was something soft behind it, something fond.

With a deep sigh, she stood up, muttering something in Italian under her breath as she walked toward the kitchen. "I'm making coffee. Stay put, baby."

I grinned to myself, watching her retreat. Despite the awkwardness, despite the blush dusting her cheeks, I couldn't help but feel... happy.

Because, accidental or not, Lilia had held me.

I groaned into my pillow, my entire body still buzzing from waking up in Lilia’s arms. The warmth, the way she’d sighed against my neck, the way her legs had tangled with mine... she was going to be the death of me. And now, I was lying here, wide awake, and wet.

I sighed heavily, dragging myself out of bed and onto my crutches. I needed to focus. I made my way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and brushing my teeth, trying to shake off the feeling of her body against mine.

As I finished up, Lilia appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of coffee. She looked far too composed for someone who had been spooning me not even an hour ago. “I made coffee,” she said, offering me one.

I took it gratefully, blowing on the hot liquid before gesturing toward the sink. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet, if you want.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, placing her mug down and rummaging through my cabinet. Watching Lilia Calderu, elegant and composed, digging around my bathroom in her silk blouse and tousled hair? It was almost too much to handle.

“I'll be quick,” she murmured before disappearing into the bathroom.

I exhaled, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "Keep it together," I muttered to myself.

By the time I made my way into the living room, Lilia had breakfast ready for me, simple, but thoughtful. Toast, fruit, and more coffee, all arranged neatly on my coffee table.

“You didn’t have to,” I said, hobbling toward the couch.

“I know,” she replied, watching as I carefully sat down. “But you’d probably eat something terrible otherwise.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. “You really don’t have to look after me, you know.”

Lilia gave me a pointed look, crossing her arms. “You can barely walk, y/n. I’ll stop worrying when you stop getting injured.”

I sighed dramatically. “So, never?”

She smirked, handing me a fork. “Exactly.”

The day passed in a slow, comfortable rhythm. Lilia hovered, always a step away, refilling my water, adjusting pillows, and shooting me disapproving looks whenever I tried to move too much.

“You’re fussing,” I accused, chewing on a piece of fruit.

“I’m caring,” she corrected, sitting down next to me.

“You call it caring, I call it hovering.”

She smirked, sipping her coffee. “You’ll survive.”

Evening rolled in, the sky outside darkening, and just when I thought the day would end in peaceful quiet... the front door swung open.

I groaned. “Oh no.”

The coven had arrived.

Jen stepped in first, holding bags of snacks and drinks, followed by Alice, Billy and Agatha. They were mid-conversation until their eyes landed on me and Lilia, sitting together on the couch.

Respectable distance apart. Totally platonic.

Jen froze mid-step, blinking. “Oh.”

Billy followed, eyes widening in delight. “Ohhh.”

Agatha, bringing up the rear, took one look at us, her lips curling into a wicked smirk. “Oh.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Guys—”

Lilia, beside me, shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “I—um.”

But before either of us could explain, the coven pounced, making themselves at home like they always did, piling onto the couch and floor, filling the room with their usual chaotic energy.

Jen leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “We weren’t interrupting anything, were we?”

I shot her a glare. “No.”

Billy plopped down onto the armrest beside Lilia, grinning like the devil himself. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Lilia sipped her wine with far too much poise, though I could see the slight tension in her shoulders. “y/n needed some looking after.”

Agatha smirked, eyeing us both. “Oh, I bet.”

I groaned. “Please don’t start.”

Agatha ignored me, grinning at Lilia. “So... sleep well?”

Lilia’s eyes widened just slightly, and I swore I saw her grip tighten around her wine glass. I sent a silent prayer that she wouldn’t murder me on the spot.

“She slept on the couch,” I blurted, lying through my teeth.

Agatha’s eyes lit up the moment the words left my mouth. I regretted them instantly.

“You stayed the night?” she repeated, her grin spreading like wildfire. “Oh, this is delicious.”

Lilia shot me a look that screamed traitor, but I was already too deep in the trenches.

Jen gasped, slapping Billy’s arm. “She stayed? And you didn’t tell us?! y/n!”

Billy was practically vibrating with excitement, grinning at me like I was the star of his favorite soap opera. “And here I thought you two were just dancing around each other.” He gestured dramatically. “But nooo, you’ve already crossed the threshold.”

Lilia, clearly unamused, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I slept on the couch.”

Agatha’s smirk only deepened. “Sure you did.”

Lilia sighed heavily, shooting me another look that I promptly ignored. This was exactly what I needed after the week I’d had. The coven, in full chaos mode, teasing and flirting on my behalf, giving me that sense of belonging I hadn’t realised I’d missed so much. My little family.

Alice, who had been silently observing with her usual calm, finally spoke up, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Y/n, should we be expecting a wedding invite soon?”

I groaned loudly, throwing my head back. “Guys, stop.”

Jen, completely ignoring my plea, turned to Lilia with a wicked glint in her eye. “So, Lilia, what’s y/n like as a bedmate? Kicks in her sleep? Steals the covers?”

Lilia blinked, clearly trying to hold on to whatever patience she had left. “I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t dare share a bed with her.”

Agatha pounced. “Oho, wouldn’t dare?”

Billy leaned in, waggling his brows. “Why not, Lilia? Afraid you might like it too much?”

Lilia flushed, the faintest hint of pink dusting her cheeks, and I nearly died. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then took a very long, very deliberate sip of her wine.

I grinned, feeling a bit bolder. “I do have that effect on people.”

Lilia shot me a side-eye, but there was something fond in it. “Oh, please.”

The coven lost it. Jen was doubled over, Alice was hiding a laugh behind her hand, and Agatha was grinning at me like a proud parent.

Agatha leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “y/n, I think you’ve been holding out on us. You had this whole slow burn thing going, and you didn’t tell us it escalated to sleepovers?”

I rolled my eyes, grinning. “It wasn’t like that.”

Billy gasped dramatically. “Yet.”

Lilia, who had been quietly sipping her wine, finally sighed and set the glass down with a resigned shake of her head. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Agatha beamed. “We know.”

Despite her exasperation, I noticed the way Lilia wasn’t exactly moving away from me. Her hand rested lightly on the couch between us, close enough that I could feel the warmth of it.

And honestly? I was loving every second of this.

The coven continued their relentless teasing, and as much as I pretended to be annoyed, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because as much as they embarrassed me, they also loved me and they were going to make sure Lilia knew it too.

Eventually, the coven moved on to other topics, letting me off the hook mostly. There were still the occasional sly remarks and not-so-subtle winks thrown in my direction, but the conversation shifted to easier subjects. Billy was passionately discussing his latest obsession, Jen was complaining about some chaos at work, and Agatha, well... Agatha was just being Agatha.

I leaned back into the couch, watching them all with a warm smile. This—this—was what I loved. The easy, chaotic comfort of my little found family.

And then I glanced at Lilia.

She wasn’t saying much, just quietly observing the flow of conversation, sipping her wine with that ever-present air of quiet. But what caught me off guard was the way she was looking at me soft, warm, fond.

It wasn’t the teasing smirk she usually wore when she was humouring me, or the exasperated look she gave when I was pushing her buttons. No, this was different. Like she was... happy just being here, watching me laugh and bicker with my friends, like she was enjoying being part of it, being part of my world.

My chest tightened in a way that made my breath hitch.

I turned back to the conversation, but I could still feel her gaze lingering on me, and it took everything in me not to squirm under the weight of it.

At one point, Agatha made some snarky remark about a disastrous camping trip from years ago, and I laughed so hard I nearly choked on my drink. Jen patted my back while Billy wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, and in the midst of it all, I caught Lilia smiling, really smiling.

It wasn’t the sly, self-assured grin I was used to. It was softer, genuine, and something about it made me want to crawl into her lap and never leave.

Instead, I smirked at her. “Enjoying the show?”

Lilia blinked, her expression slipping back into something more composed, but I saw the way the corners of her mouth twitched. “Immensely.”

Agatha caught the exchange and pointed a knowing finger at me. “You know,” she said, leaning back with a wicked grin, “I think Lilia might actually like us.”

Lilia tilted her head, giving an exaggerated thoughtful look. “Mm, the jury’s still out.”

Billy gasped in mock betrayal. “I am personally offended.”

Alice, ever the mediator, grinned. “You’re stuck with us now, Lilia.”

Lilia shot me a playful side glance. “Seems that way.”

I grinned back, feeling something flutter in my chest.

The rest of the evening was easy, filled with laughter and warm conversation. Every so often, I’d catch Lilia looking at me, and every time, my heart would skip a beat.

By the time the coven started gathering their things to leave, I felt lighter, happier, content in a way I hadn’t been in a long time.

And as they all filled out with promises to check in on me later, Agatha paused in the doorway, shooting me a pointed look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I groaned. “Agatha, please.”

Lilia just rolled her eyes, but I caught the slight pink tinge to her cheeks as the door finally closed behind them.

For a moment, silence settled between us, comfortable and easy.

I sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

Lilia smirked, swirling the last of her wine in the glass. “I suppose they’re... tolerable.”

I smiled softly, nudging her shoulder. “You like them.”

She huffed, but didn’t argue. “Maybe.”

And that? That was enough for me.

I bit my lip, glancing at Lilia as she leaned back against the couch, sipping the last of her wine. The room felt quieter now, calmer, but there was still this... something hanging in the air between us. Something I wasn’t sure I wanted to let go of just yet.

But I knew I couldn’t keep her here forever.

“You don’t need to stay another night,” I said softly, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over my lap.

Lilia glanced at me, her dark eyes searching my face for a moment. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

I forced a small smile, even though I hated how empty the apartment would feel without her presence. “Unfortunately,” I added, trying to keep it light.

Her lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Unfortunately,” she echoed, her tone teasing but with something softer beneath it.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a little too warm. “But... thank you. For looking after me. Seriously.”

She set her glass down and turned toward me, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a gentleness I wasn’t expecting, she reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over my hand.

“You’re welcome, baby,” she murmured.

My stomach flipped, and I found myself holding my breath.

She squeezed my hand briefly before standing up, stretching a little. “Try not to get into any more trouble while I’m gone, alright?”

I huffed a soft laugh, looking up at her. “No promises.”

Lilia smirked, but there was something behind it, something lingering in the way she looked at me, like she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to leave.

For a moment, I considered asking her to stay anyway. I could make up another excuse, play the helpless card, or just... ask. But instead, I swallowed the words and gave her an easy smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.

She nodded, grabbing her coat. “You’ll see me tomorrow.”

And just like that, she was at the door, pausing for only a second before slipping out into the night.

I let out a slow breath, staring at the closed door, feeling the warmth of her touch still lingering on my hand.

I was definitely in trouble.

[oh-no-its-bird]

saw your kaguya/sakumo and raise you toneri otsutsuki being in love with kakashi instead of Hinata if only because i think it'd be really, really funny for the team to have to deal with the fact that a sorta god wants their sensei. and also for Hinata. like you go to rescue your sister only for her kidnapper to demand your hokages hand in marriage for her eyes and return. what the fuck do you do.

does this make sense? absolutely not. do i think it'd be funny anyway? absolutely yes.

I have NO idea who this man is but I am absolutely on board, 100000%, I love Kakashi crack ships. Kakashi gets his own space man !!! Good for him!

Looking him up and scrolling through his wiki rn, hes so cute?? I love his design wtf. Very fun story too-- was this a movie guy or part of the actual base anime? I dunno but Im a fan of him now, let him make Kakashi his attic wife, it'll be funny

I do think that objectively, the funniest thing u could do here is start off w the canon of him falling in love with Hinata, kidnapping her, all that-- but then he sees Kakashi and has Thoughts And Feelings(TM) and is now like. Conflicted.

This man does not know what polyamory is (and obviously neither Hinata or Kakashi would be interested either way, probably especially bc the other is involved bc that is weird and uncomfortable) and has never really faced what "love" truly is outside of this little box he has never been challenged ab

So he's like suddenly getting super in his own head ab what is love and if he's "cheating" on Hinata by feeling a certain way ab Kakashi (boy she dont even LIKE you) and he's never experienced sexual attraction before but oh man kakashi is DOIN smthn to him rn and he doesnt know whats happening

anyways he actually ends up getting totally distracted from his goal of killing all of humanity or whatever that's ab, because he then proceeds to kidnap Kakashi to add to his Moon Harem(tm) that he refuses to admit is a moon harem bc he condemns harems and looks down upon those with concubines and or multiple wives. But like thats for sure what he is laying in bed at night thinking ab. Im thinking like comedic christain guilt energy but also he is not christain and a moon man

Meanwhile Hinata and Kakashi are on the worst impromptu field trip of their LIVES and its made extra awkward bc like.

"Oh! Hi there, girl my students age who I occasionally interacted with as a literal child and who also looks up to me! I see that this alien has kidnapped the both of us-- you with the intent to marry and me because I apparently have triggered a concerningly intense gay crisis potentially linked to years of living alone on the moon w nothing but puppets!"

"It sure seems like that, semi-father figure to my boyfriend and also man w authority over me ,who is also almost twice my age, and who I may or may not be getting forcibly, indirectly married to! At least he's too busy having a crisis to remember that 'killing all of humanity' thing...?"

"I GUESS!"

Look on the bright side Hinata! At least you get to be the main wife!

Kakashi and Hinata get to bond over the fucking insanity of the situation and try to manipulate Toneri into letting them go (or, at minimum, encourage him to continue to be too fucking distracted having multiple crisis's revolving around them to get back on that killing humanity thing)

Meanwhile Naruto lost his fuckin girlfriend AND his sensei, this is literally the worst day of his fucking life