#and now she's giving him life lessons and advice

[vigilvntes]

i hate myself so bad tell me why i set out to write a jason todd x villain!reader where reader kidnaps robin (damian) just to get jason's attention and now villain!reader and damian are having a heart to heart like........... kill me! immediately!

[its-mellohi]

.

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU part 9

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 10 is here.

"I think you should take off your veil now. You need to impress the princes so that one of them could take pity and marry you. Or you could try black magic-"

"Baris, I will pull your tongue out and strangle you with it if you say another word." You muttered, holding your head in your hands.

After Baris landed the "marriage bomb" on you last night, you've been stressed. Why did I have to teach Mihirmah? Why did I have to accept the bracelet? Why did I-

"You have bags under your eyes, and considering that they're the only feature visible, its not good-" You threw a pillow at him, which he dodged easily. You hadnt slept at all, how could you? You tried to figure out a plan, that didnt work. You tried to fix your time machine, that was not going to work at all without tools.

"You could be wrong." You mumbled, opening your eyes as you stared ahead. "This bracelet could be nothing but just a kind gesture. It is not a marriage proposal. You're wrong-"

Baris cut you off. "I know it seems impossible, considering how you look, even I'm surprised- but I'm never wrong, Y/n. I've worked here for more 25 years, I know what everyone thinks." You stared at him with a pinched expression.

"You have to help me, Baris."

He smiled. "Of course, you'd be lost cause else wise! I'll get the seamstress to make you some new clothes-"

"No, I meant- you have to help me escape. I cant- I dont want to get married!"

He scoffed. "Darling, we're alone right now. You can drop the "I dont wanna marry a prince and enjoy the luxuries of the world" act."

"I mean it!" You huff.

"And why is that?"

"Because-" you bit your lip. What excuse can you possibly come up with to satisfy him?

"I love someone else."

"How tragic." He said monotonously. "Love has no place in the harem. You're here to attract, serve and please the royal family." He walked closer to you, leaning down as he lowered his volume. "And I'm going to give you some advice: you better not use that excuse again, never even MUMBLE about having a lover again, not unless you want to be tortured and executed for being a traitor."

You knew what he was referring to. The harem, the concubines, the whole palace was filled with jealousy. If anyone were to hear about this, they would use it against you, conjure up such vulgar lies that the sultan will chop off your head.

"Baris I cant-"

"You dont have a choice, Y/n." He cut you off harshly. "I suggest you suck it up and pretend to be happy or else you'll be in for a hard life."

"Now, get ready. You need to teach a lesson."

-

"You look sick."

You resist rolling your eyes. "Yes, I know I'm ugly. Thank you for keeping me updated."

Mihirmah shook her head. "No, I mean you dont look well. Are you alright?"

No, I lost sleep because of you and-

"Just tired, Mihirmah. I think we've should stop here today." You watched her beam.

"Finally! Now we can celebrate!" Mihirmah clapped her hands as the servants brought in some tea and sweets. She had initially wanted to celebrate her victory from last night as soon as you came in, but you wanted to get the lesson done with so that you could leave.

"You enjoy it. You did a good job." You tried to excuse herself but she frowned.

"I did. And so did you! I mean, the way you made Mahidevran shut up! It was amazing!" She took a piece of sweet and handed it to you. "Besides, my father appreciated your efforts as well-"

You looked down at the bracelet. This was more of a death sentence than a gift.

"Mihirmah." You took off your bracelet. "I- I appreciate the sultan's gift, but I cant accept this. Its too much- its-" you mentally rolled your eyes at your next excuse. "Its above me."

She furrowed her brows. "Even if that may be the case, which its not because you fully deserve that after the showdown, you still cannot refuse or return a sultan's gift, much less one that he made himself!" She tilted her head. "What is really going on? Why do you not want the bracelet? And dont say its not to your taste, because lets face it- you probably have not seen jewels like this in your life."

Biting the inside of your cheek to prevent the insults from slipping out, you took a breath.

"I... heard that..." you took another breath. How do you say "I dont want the bracelet because I dont wanna marry any of your brothers" without sounding narcissistic. "I... I heard that there might be a different meaning behind the bracelet. That it may signify... something else."

"Which is...?" She prompted you.

You exhaled.

"That I might be considered to be... a spouse for a sehzade."

Mihirmah snorted as you looked down to conceal both your embarrassment and fear.

"I'm sorry- what did you say?" She was laughing now. You continued to look down. As long as she's laughing and not getting mad at you for even suggesting such a thing, you're fine. Besides, if she's laughing then it means that all that bullshit Baris was spewing earlier was just that- bullshit.

"You think- my father, the sultan, wants you- YOU, to marry one of his sons?" She wiped a tear away from her eye as she laughed. "That is the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard. True, father does only give handmade gifts to those he considers close, but I dont think thats true in your case, Y/n. You're just my teacher, that's all. Besides, even if you were to be considered as a potential spouse for my brothers, you have my mother and Mahivdevran standing in your way. And trust me, they're going to marry their sons to someone they like. You- they cant even tolerate you as my teacher at this point of time."

Sighing in relief, you nod. "Well, that's great to hear-"

"Wait." Mihirmah narrows her eyes at you. "If you thought that my father wanted to marry you to one of his sons, why did you want to return the bracelet? Did you- did you not want to marry my brother?"

Oh shit. "Mihirmah no-" You tried to pacify her.

But she snapped at you. "What? You think you're better than my brothers? Any of them? You'd be lucky if Mehmed or Mustafa chose you, if such a miracle does happen."

Your eyes were wide at her venomous tone. You dont know whether it was because she was protective of her brothers, or if she just really hated the idea that you would consider rejecting royalty.

A few more moments of silence went by. "You misunderstand me, sultana." You chose her title to please her. "I know of my status, and I am well aware of how... lowly I am to be a part of this family. The only reason I was returning the bracelet was because... I didnt want the harem to assume things and threaten or hurt me. I am aware that the sehzade have their favourite concubines, much better equipped to their tastes. But if they were to see this bracelet gifted by the sultan on me, they would... it would cause misunderstandings. I just wanted to avoid that."

Your words were carefully selected to not aggravate her any further, which it didnt but they also didnt calm her down.

Mihirmah's face was still sour. "The concubines are smart enough to figure out who's a competition and who's just a mere servant. You have nothing to worry about."

The words stung but... you just bowed and took your leave instead of slapping her across the face.

Mehmed had just turned the corner when he saw you leaving Mihirmah's room with tears pooling in your eyes, the niqaab only causing them to look more prominent.

He entered Mihirmah's room, finding his sister looking angry as she gazed into space.

"Mihirmah?" He sat down beside her, noticing how she didnt immediately light up as she always did when he came. What did you do to piss her off so much?

He cupped her face to look at him. "What's wrong? Tell me."

-

You're laying in your bed, arm over your eyes as you try to think of a way out of here.

When will the time machine work again?

Its not like you can go out of the palace to get help or even tools to work on it, and you always fear that someone just may walk in on you tinkering with the machine. The only place where you can get privacy in this palace here is the dungeons, only because its dark and oh-so-daunting that it doesnt really attract people there.

There's a knock on your door. With a grunt, you get up and open the door, only to find no one there. Your room was in the harem, but it was on the upper floor, so you could see the whole area from above, including the silhouette of someone leaving the harem doors.

Normally, you wouldn't have bothered with the "door bell pranks", but you made your way down because 1. you're not familiar with what this might mean, maybe some royal summoned you and you're to follow the servant. 2. you're bored.

When you left the harem and looked to your left, spotting the back of a girl in red dress, you knew she was baiting you to follow her. So you did, turning around the corridor only to be body slammed to the wall.

3 women surround you, blocking any escape routes. They're all glaring at you, and you recognise their faces. They're the concubines.

You clear your throat. "Well? I suppose you have something to say that you couldnt say in there."

The brunette in front of you narrows her eyes. "Who do you think you are?"

"Why dont you tell me?"

Her glare intensifies. "You think you can just bat your lashes and whore yourself to the sehzade?"

"Heh?"

The raven haired girl on her right grabbed your throat and banged your head against the wall behind. "Dont play dumb! We know you're trying to marry the prince!"

The blonde on the left banged your head against the wall this time, gritting out "Stay away from sehzade Mustafa!"

"And sehzade Mehmed!" the brunette warned, repeating the same assault as the other two.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you rubbed the sore spot on the back of your head. "None of your accusations are true. Unlike you, I actually have a respectable job here-"

"We saw the bracelet! You think you can just prance around here, pretending to be this holy and pure, untainted girl while we work ourselves to the bone to get in bed?!" The brunette screamed at you, getting in your face.

You pushed her away. "First of all, I am not interested in marrying anyone. Secondly, the bracelet means nothing than a job well done. And finally- you seem to mistake your status over me. I dont work for you, or under you. So, this is for earlier-" You slapped her hard across the face, making her fall. The other two were in shock, and you took that as an opputunity to slap them too.

"Now, we're even." You huffed, adjusting your niqaab before turning on your heel to leave. You needed to slap them, not only because you need to let them know they cant bully you, but also because you needed to release some steam. It felt good, you wont lie. You may have even imagined some people's faces as you smacked them-

"Omph!" You're pushed to the ground, flipped over onto your back. You grab on to the hands that are wrapped around your neck, eyes wide as the brunette starts to choke you.

"You stupid bitch!" She screamed as you fought hard to pull her hands away. She yanked the veil off your face, smacking your cheek hard enough to scratch you with her sharp nails.

"Laira stop-" the blonde tried to pull her off you but Laira continued to beat you.

"Hand me the torch!"

"Laira-" The blonde started again but the raven haired grabbed the fire sconce off the wall and handed it to Laira.

You stared in horror as she brought the torch closer to your face, the heat radiating. She grinned manically, one hand still squeezing your throat.

"You're not even that pretty for a sehzade. Did you use black magic on them?" She clicked her tongue, while your eyes were fixated on the torch. "I guess, it wont be futile to ruin your face for guarantee."

"Please no-" she choked you harder with her man hands that you just couldnt seem to pry off, and you sort of became paralysed as the dancing flames took you back to the night in the desert, when the assassins set your tent on fire. Everything slowed down, and noise drowned out like in the movies.

Salauddin. Help-

The flames suddenly vanish from your view as Laira is thrown off you.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" The man roared behind you. Your eyes moved from the shaking concubines to your saviour.

Ibrahim pasha.

"Pasha bey-"

"Shut it. Guards! Throw them to the dungeons!" Ibrahim yelled and automatically, 4 Janisarries appeared from behind him and dragged the wailing girls away.

Ibrahim looks down at you, his eyes shifting from rage to sympathy. He crouches down and helps you sit up, his touch gentle.

"Are you alright, Hatun Y/n?" You're staring at him in a daze, your body has not recovered enough to physically react, almost on autopilot.

Say something.

"Y/n?" He asks again, his brows furrowing as his concern deepens. Why does everything sound so far, so low?

He snaps his fingers near your ear, and your brain finally reacts.

"Y-yes." You tear your gaze away, looking at the fire torch lying on the ground far from you.

Fire. Second time you were almost burnt to death.

"Come on." He helps you up, gently tugging you to follow him. A few shaky steps later, you follow him to your room.

He sat you down on the bed. "There we go." Ibrahim pasha scanned your face for any burns or injuries, noting the nail marks from the slap.

"Baris Agha!" Ibrahim called and a few seconds later, the eunuch stumbled in.

"Yes, pasha- ya Allah, what happened to-"

"Baris." Ibrahim snapped at him. "Get me bandages and healing balm. And keep quiet about this." Baris only nodded before following orders.

You cleared your throat. "I... thank you for saving me, pasha." Ibrahim smiled courteously as he sat on a chair nearby.

"It was my duty. Sultan Suleiman had asked me to keep an eye on you."

Your brows furrowed. "Why?"

Ibrahim looked at the bracelet around your wrist. "I suppose you did something to make him pleased."

He relaxed in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. "So... what happened with the concubines?"

"Misunderstanding." You said dismissively.

"And what that might be?" He prodded. When you didnt reply, he sighed. "I am the pasha, the sultan's right hand. I am supposed to know what happens in the palace."

"Its nothing of significance. You can let the girls out of the dungeon."

"I'm afraid that decision is not upto you." Ibrahim deadpanned. "If you do not wish to tell me, fine. I have other ways of finding out." He made his threat clear and began standing up.

"Wait!" You clenched your niqaab, looking at the veil in your lap. "I'll tell you, but... you cant tell anyone."

Ibrahim stared at you before nodding, sitting back down.

"There may have been a rumour... the cocncubines- they think that the bracelet, a gift from the sultan means that I am... special." You mumbled the last word.

"Special how?"

"They think... that the sultan wants me to be his... daughter-in-law. Actually, they think that I am wooing the sehzades- Mustafa and Mehmed."

"And are you?" He asks immeadiately.

"Of course not!"

"Why not? Anyone would love to marry a prince."

You scoffed. "I would never want to be a part of this family, not even as a teacher."

He raised a brow. "Hate the Ottomans?" You shake your head. "No. But I wouldn't want to be a part of it." You clicked your tongue. "Everyone in this palace is a slave. The concubines, the servants, the wives, the kids, you and me too. The wives of the sultan, they have all the luxuries one could imagine... except for the loyalty of their husband. Not to mention, they have to live in constant fear of being replaced and be in paranoia forever because everyone who is not family, is a threat to her. The kids? If you're born a boy, sure- you are immediately given a superior status, but with such power and princely status also comes with its own drawbacks. The boy will have to always be compete with his brothers, not because he wants to be the next sultan, but for survival."

In Ottoman empire, there was a common practice of fratricide- a tradition where once the next sultan is chosen, the new sultan is allowed LEGALLY to kill his brothers, stepbrothers, nephews and even female relatives (sisters included) as well, so as to get rid of any future competition or betrayal by his own family. In a nutshell, it was done to prevent civil wars.

"If you're born as a girl, then you may have a better chance of survival than your brothers, but that's still not guaranteed. Not to mention, you are raised to be married off to someone that will strengthen the royal family. Not to someone you love." Ibrahim watched you as you continued. "Its not better to be a servant either. Always being threatened, questioned about your loyalty, having to take the fall for the higher ups. The eunuchs, who think they are all high and mighty and control the court, you and I both know that their job to "protect the women of the harem" wasnt even their choice. To be forcefully castrated as children, forcefully ripped from their families, forced to serve the royals... they dont have a choice. I dont have to tell you how degrading it is to be a concubine."

"And me? How am I a slave?" Ibrahim asked.

You smiled sadly. "You know very well, and youre just trying to see how much I know. Your past is not a well kept secret, pasha." You kept quiet, and Ibrahim realised you already knew about his life.

Ibrahim, born as Orthodox Christian, was enslaved during his childhood. He and Suleiman became close friends in their youth, or perhaps forced to convert to Islam and then raised to befriend Suleiman. Suleiman appointed Ibrahim as grand vizier when he took the throne.

"How do you know?" Ibrahim's gaze was sharp. "I know a lot of things, pasha. But dont worry, I have no ill intent. If anything, I want to be as far from this life as possible. Perhaps... you could help me with that?"

He raised a brow. "I dont think that is an option for you right now." At your frown, he explained. "The safest place for a woman like you is here."

"Did you just forget that my face was almost burned off moments ago?"

He chuckled, shaking his hand. "Of course not. But you need to understand that you cannot just up and go without a word, especially after the sultan just gave you a handmade gift, and whether or not it signifies that he's considered you for one of his sons, it does mean that he considers you important. His majesty will not just accept your leave for no reason." Ibrahim leaned forward, clasping his hands. "As for your safety, you can leave that to me. I will make sure no harm befalls you again. I promise."

"But what about the sehzade? The rumours?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "If you're so concerned about that matter, then you should just avoid the princes as much as you can. Keep your niqaab on, continue your lessons with the princess and avoid interacting with people as much as you can."

Well, its not a bad suggestion. If you make yourself scarce and draw less attention to yourself, you can slip out of the palace and leave unnoticed.

"Oh, pasha?" You called him as he stood up to leave. "Can I request you not to tell about this incident to anyone?" You pointed to bruises on your face.

He grinned and nodded. "Of course. But it is not me you should be worried about talking." At your confused face, he chuckled.

"Baris Agha still hasnt returned."

-

Mihirmah and Mehmed were in your room just a few moments after Ibrahim pasha had fetched the bandages from below and treated your wounds, further confirming that Baris was spreading the news about your attack all over the palace.

"Y/n! Who did this to you?" Mihirmah traced the bruises gently as she sat beside you on the bed, while Mehmed sat in front of you, on the seat previously occupied by Ibrahim pasha- just closer this time.

"I dont know." You lied, pulling yourself away from Mihirmah's concerned touches. Oh you're still mad at her.

Your evasiveness didnt go unnoticed by her, as she dropped her hand and her mouth settled into a thin grim line.

"Why did someone attack you? What happened?" Mehmed asked, cutting the tension.

You shrugged. "I dont know." You fiddled with the niqaab in your lap. There's a big bandage on your cheeks, so while you couldnt exactly wear your veil again, you suppose in a way your face was somewhat covered?

"Probably mistook me for someone else. Or just a misunderstanding." You tried to brush this off.

"Still, it shouldnt warrant such a reaction. We should investigate-" Mehmed started but you shook your head.

"Ibrahim pasha is already looking into the matter. He'll take care of it-"

"I am the sehzade. I will look into this personally." Mehmed stated before leaving the room before anyone could stop him. Ah, to be the knight in shinning armour for a distressed damsel.

You and Mihirmah sat alone now. The air in the room was thick, the silence thicker. Mihirmah glanced at your nonchalant face, your eyes fixated on the ground, not caring how uncomfortable the silence was making the princess.

It was clear she had to break the ice.

"Y/n." She called. "Yes, sultana?" You answered, but your eyes still remained on the ground.

Sultana. Not Mihirmah, like she'd allowed you to call her, but sultana.

She pursed her lips. "I..." She paused. What is she supposed to say? Sorry? The word is as foreign to her as it is to any royal.

"I dont like the things you said this morning." She finally stated. "You shouldnt have said those things."

You resisted the urge to scoff. Is she really trying to pin this on you and make you apologise? Entitled brat-

"You're right, sultana. I was out of line. I suggest we should just stick to our lessons and avoid talking about anything else. I'll be careful not to bring up any other topic." You stated monotonously.

Mihirmah frowned. Why are you saying this? Why are you being so difficult?

"Stop it." She warned. You nodded. "As you wish, sultana. I'll arrange another Quran teacher for you." Your words only enraged her further.

"I said- stop it." She ordered but you're hell bent on making her apologise- a dream, but still. You clicked your tongue. "I suppose I'll hand in my resignation to the sultan and explain to His Majesty that it was my fault for being a useless servant who is just not capable- ow!" You finally looked at her in disbelief.

She pinched you. Mihirmah pinched your arm. Hard.

And she had the gall to glare at you, with some anger and remorse in her eyes.

"What did you do that for?" You spat, hissing as you rubbed the area she'd assaulted. There was going to be a bruise, for sure.

Her frown deepened. "You- I told you to stop, didn't I?!" You watched her trying to contain her rage, her body shaking as she tried not to wrangle you by the neck. "I- I dont want you to leave."

"But sultana-" "Mihirmah. You call me Mihirmah." She emphasised.

You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress your smile. "I am just a dispensable servant-" You jumped back when she went to pinch you again.

"Will you stop doing that?!" Your arm still hurt from her first attack. Mihirmah's nostrils flared. "Will you stop acting like a brat?!"

Your throat made a sound of disbelief. "I am acting like a brat?! Have you looked in the mirror recently?"

"Yes and I look very beautiful! Unlike your busted face!"

"Oh so you just get to insult me?" "I am not insulting you! I am DESCRIBING YOU!" She screamed as you glared at her. Mihirmah took a few deep breaths to calm down. "I am not calling you ugly, I was just referring to the bruises on your face. How did you manage to get beat up so badly? Did you not learn anything from my sparring lessons?"

"Sparring lessons? You mean the times where you would flip me on my back or throw me against the wall?" She glared at your accusation. "How is it my fault that you dont fight back?"

Mihirmah's gaze flicked the arm you were holding, the one she'd pinched. "Does it still hurt?" Her voice was much softer this time.

"Would you like me to pinch you back to demonstrate how much it hurt?" You spat back and she scoffed. "I didnt pinch you that hard. You're just sensitive." "Sure, you must only have meaty man fingers." You grumbled as she gasped and smacked your bruised arm, making you hiss.

The two of you glared at each other before Mihirmah wrapped her arms around you and looked up at you with a small pout.

"This doesnt work on me." You muttered, making her grip tighten around you.

"You know you're not a servant." Mihirmah whispered, looking up at you with puppy eyes, but only you knew the real Ronda Rousey in her.

"You're my friend, Y/n. Or the closest thing I have to a sister." "If you were planning on beating up your sister, I'm glad your parents didnt have one."

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment." Mihirmah scolded you. "I dont want you to go. I dont want you to be hurt, either. So just- I'm willing to let things go back to the way they were before this morning, if you are."

You stared down at her. You knew you were never going to get a real apology, Mihirmah was too prideful. You couldnt make her feel ashamed for her actions, or hold her responsible. So, you'll have to make do with this.

"Fine." She broke into a grin and squeezed her arms around you tightly before letting go.

"Now, tell me! Who were these girls who attacked you? I'll skin them with my daggers!" Ignoring her sociopathic tendencies, you shrugged. "I dont know, Mihirmah. I dont know who they were- I'm still new to the palace."

She hummed before her face lit up in realisation. "Wait! Baris Agha did say something about concubines. I'll ask Mehmed too when he returns with more information from Ibrahim pasha!"

-

While you are trying your best to hide the incident about your attack, unbeknownst to you, the news has spread like wildfire in the palace. A maid saw Mehmed entering Ibrahim pasha's office, and when she reported it to her friend, she then told her about how she overheard the eunuchs talking about a fight breaking out between the concubines and someone else, and then someone added that they saw Ibrahim pasha, Mehmed and Mihirmah in your room, so you were involved too. It wasnt long before this news reached Hurrem and Mahidevran, only this time it was more dramatised.

"The concubines tried to kill Hatun Y/n! It was only by pure luck that sehzade Mehmed saved her! And now her wounds are being tended to by Mihirmah sultana while sehzade Mehmed and Ibrahim pasha are punishing the concubines!" Gul, the chamber maid, told Mahidevran.

Mahidevran narrowed her eyes. "Why did they save her? She's just a teacher." The queen didnt understand why the royal children were going through such lengths to get justice for you. Fights in the harem break out all the time.

Gul fumbled with her thumbs, avoiding eye contact with her queen. Mahidevran's frown deepened. "What is it, Gul?"

"I- sultana- I just heard some rumors, its probably not even true-" "Out with it!" Mahidevran snapped.

Gul licked her lips as she spoke. "Um- I overheard that sehzade Mehmed has been... spending a lot of time with Hatun Y/n. Especially after the dinner where Mihirmah sultana recited-"

Mehmed... spending time with you? Why? If he wanted to sleep with you, he could have any girl from the harem. So why you? Why you, a Quran teacher, a conservative girl who covered herself from head to toe? Surely, Mehmed hadnt been bewitched by your physical appearance- not that you had any, in her opinion. And then Suleiman seemed to like you to, so for Mehmed to fancy you would be because-

Mahidevran's eyes widened at the sudden realisation.

"Get me Mustafa. Now!"

-

"Hatun Y/n was attacked by the concubines! Ibrahim pasha saved her and carried her unconscious form to her room!" A maid reported to Hurrem.

"Why was she attacked?" Hurrem asked, bored.

The maid hesitated to answer. "I am not sure, sultana, but the word is that the concubines were jealous of the attention Hatun Y/n was getting from sehzade Mustafa."

Mustafa? No. What possible business could you have with Mustafa? From the past week's events, Hurrem was told that you'd spend most of your time with her daughter, and only moments with Mehmed when he visited his sister.

"Mustafa isnt interested in Y/n." Hurrem stated, more to herself than to refute the maid's claims.

The girl nodded. "I'm only telling you what I heard, sultana. And... I also saw sehzade Mustafa leaving Mahidevran sultana's chambers to visit Hatun Y/n earlier today, just moments before I came here!"

Hurrem halted as she tried to make sense of the information. Mustafa was out all day because of the hunt, he wasnt supposed to return before dinner. Which means, he was fetched, likely by Mahidevran. Who probably informed him about your attack and now he went to check on you.

But why? Even at the dinner the other day, Hurrem didnt detect any sort of affection from Mustafa for you, or you from him. You both barely glanced at each other.

Maybe he's just checking in on you. That's all it is to it.

"How badly was Y/n injured?" Hurrem inquired.

"I didnt get a chance to see her yet, she's been with Mihirmah sultana since the event, but I heard that her unconscious body had to be carried by Ibrahim pasha himself! And- and that he even bandaged her up-"

"Ibrahim pasha?" Hurrem whispered to herself. What business did he have with you? He could've easily had a servant tend to your wounds, so why did he personally do it himself?

Ibrahim. Mustafa. Mahidevran. What are they upto? Hurrem knows Ibrahim doesnt like her, that he favours Mahidevran and Mustafa over her, that he wants Mustafa to be the next sultan-

Hurrem's heart sinks as she pieces it together.

"Get me Mehmed. Now!"

-

Suleiman was having dinner with his family. Both of his families- Mahidevran and Mustafa joined him tonight as well. He was happy to have them together, all well and healthy.

Except... something was off.

Suleiman's gut could sense it. The children were making small talk, his wives as well, but he could tell. There was some sort of tension.

It was Mihirmah that made him finally speak up.

"Mihirmah." He called out the girl who was playing with her food. "You've barely eaten. What's wrong?"

The room immediately fell dead silent, the attention now focusing on Mihirmah.

She smiled nervously, taking a small bite. "I'm fine, baba."

But Suleiman could see that her usual bubbling aura was somewhat depressing. "Mihirmah." He called her name more sternly, and this time, her smile faltered as she finally spilled.

"I'm just worried for Y/n."

Suleiman frowned. And when he looked at everyone else, it was clear that they knew something he wasn't aware of.

"What happened?"

-

Baris Agha was having fun riling you up. "So, you're telling me that both sehzade Mustafa and Mehmed, the two crown princes racing to be the next sultan, are visited you?" He snickered as you shot him a glare. "Can I just suggest you to remove the niqaab for the wedding-"

"Baris! Shut up!" You raged at him. "Dont think I dont know you were the one spreading the lies about-" "Lies? About what? About you being attacked? By concubines who are jealous of your- I dont know, I'm sorry what it is that these men seem to be enraptured with-"

There are hurried, intense knocks on the door. Baris opens the door as a servant stumbles in, out of breath.

"Hatun Y/n! Sultan Suleiman has summoned you! Now!" His tone signified that you're not to waste time.

"Why did he call for me?" You whisper to Baris as the two of you rush down the hallways.

"Perhaps he wants to formally ask you to marry one of his sons-" "Baris!" He grinned. "What? I have a sixth sense-" "YOU HAVE NO SENSE!" You yelled. "Have more sense than you." Baris grumbled.

"Why are you even following me? Dont you have a job?" You wanted him to stop vexing you.

He snorted. "And what? Miss out on all the fun? Besides, you know as the future sultana, you will need me-"

"I swear, as soon as I'm finished meeting the sultan, I am going to throw you off the roof."

The two of you turned the corner leading to the royal dining hall, and you bumped face first into Ibrahim pasha's back, the man catching you by the arms before you fell on your ass.

"P-pasha? What are you doing here?" You asked, backing up once you got your footing.

"Sultan sent for me. What are you doing here?" Ibrahim asked, equally confused.

"He summoned me as well. What do you think its about?" You watched the cogwheels in his mind turn and the realisation dawn on him.

"The attack earlier." He exhaled, closing his eyes as he tried to figure out his next steps. "We cant- you cant tell him the truth!"

"You want me to lie to the sultan?" He rose his brows. "Please, Ibrahim! I- I told Mihirmah and Mehmed and then Mustafa that I didnt know who the attackers were, or why they attacked me! If you tell them the truth-"

"Y/n." He grabbed your shoulders, staring into your worried eyes. "I promised to protect you, didnt I? I intend on keeping my promises."

You both entered the dining room together, bowing to the royal family sitting there.

"Y/n." You looked up at the sultan. "Is it true? Were you attacked?"

You were quiet for a few moments, resisting the urge to glance at Ibrahim to figure what to say, before nodding hesitantly.

"Y-yes, sultan." You trailed your eyes back to the ground. These people, they were warriors. They didnt have any technology back then, and they had to rely on body language to read people.

And you didnt want to risk him catching you in a lie.

"Are you alright?" Suleiman's voice was much softer now. "Did you go to the infirmary?"

"I'm well now, sultan. Thank you for asking." You meekly answered. "I was saved in time, thanks to Ibrahim pasha."

Mahidevran's eyes narrowed at you. Ibrahim saved you? Of course, you'd lie about that, so that no one would suspect you and Mehmed getting close. She thought to herself.

"Ah, Ibrahim pasha." Suleiman's voice turned serious. "You were the one who saved Y/n?"

"Yes, sultan." Ibrahim confirmed.

"And you have the attackers in custody?"

"Yes, sultan."

Suleiman slammed his fist on the table, rattling everyone. "Then why the hell wasnt I informed of it?!" Ibrahim kept his head down as the sultan continued to rage. "Why does everyone seem to be aware of this matter, except me?! Answer me, Ibrahim!"

Hurrem couldnt help the smile that curled on her lips. She was glad to see Ibrahim getting in trouble, perhaps Suleiman will finally get rid of him for once and for all-

"It's my fault, your majesty!" You announced suddenly, and everyone's focus shifted to you. "I- I was- I was shaken up from the attack and I- I made the pasha stay with me. I was too scared- I didnt think I was safe- so Ibrahim pasha left to make arrangements to assure me I was safe! He was busy because of me. I'm sorry! If- if anyone should be punished, it should be me!"

You held your hands together tightly to stop them from trembling. The room fell silent at your explanation, with you and Ibrahim holding your breaths.

"Is this true, Ibrahim?" Suleiman broke the silence.

"Yes, my sultan." Ibrahim answered. "After I had saved Hatun Y/n, I wanted to assure her of her safety, so I was busy interrogating the concubines who attacked her. After they confessed, I wanted to check if anyone else in the harem had any ill intentions for Hatun Y/n, so I was engaged in checking everyone who could be a possible threat. I was on my way to inform you, but you summoned me before I could."

"Concubines? Why did they attack Y/n?" Suleiman asked, wanting to know the result of his interrogation.

Ibrahim answered without missing a beat. "They were jealous of Hatun Y/n's bracelet." You looked at him but the pasha kept his eyes ahead at the sultan. "From what I gathered, Hatun Y/n refused to give up His Majesty's handmade gift, and when she put up a fight to defend your present, she was subjected to a harsh beating and had her face almost burned."

Suleiman's eyes widened. "Burned? Because of a bracelet?"

"It was what the bracelet represented, my sultan." Ibrahim's statement made your heart sink. He better not tell him about the "daughter-in-law" theory.

"The concubines think that you... favour Y/n over them." Ibrahim's words set fire to your cheeks and you had to bite your lip to suppress the gasp you almost let out.

Ibrahim decided to change the "daughter-in-law" theory to "3rd wife/bedwarmer theory".

"What rubbish?!" Suleiman slammed his fist on the table again, and perhaps everyone in the room was silently grateful for his rage and disbelief, as it disapproved the theory and quelled any future rumours. "I only see Y/n as my daughter, nothing else! How dare they slander me like that?! How dare they hurt someone I care about?! Ibrahim, execute those wretched concubines!"

Your eyes widened at the order. Preventing their death sentence was the only reason you lied and kept this charade up. You cant risk more people dying and history changing forever because of you!

"Y-your majesty!" You fell to your knees, your voice wet. "I- I beg you- I beg you on the behalf of the concubines, please- have mercy!"

Everyone watched in surprise as you cried for mercy for... your attackers?

"You... want me to forgive them? Despite what they did to you?" Suleiman asked, watching in disbelief at your tears wetting your niqaab.

"It- it was wrong- but please, they're just- they're just young girls. They made a mistake, they shouldnt pay with their lives!" You tried to come up with better reasoning. Aha!

"Sultan, I- we are Muslims. You are a role model for Muslims all over the world right now- but you have a role model as well- someone you havent met or seen, but you follow his advices and footsteps every day. Its Prophet Muhammad (PBUH)- and- and he advices us to be forgiving and merciful." Ibrahim watched you try to persuade the king.

"On the Day of Judgement, when we beg and grovel Allah for forgiveness, would He not forgive us happily if we show mercy to His creatures? If we forgive His mankind?" You pleaded and Suleiman was touched by your words, so-much-so that he walked over to you and pulled you by your shoulders before pressing a kiss to your veiled forehead.

"You're too kind, Y/n." He whispered, before nodding at Ibrahim. "Dont kill the concubines. But find a fitting punishment for them, Ibrahim." The pasha bowed his head obediently.

"And find Y/n her personal chambers in the royal wing." Suleiman stated, making everyone surprised.

No. Room in the royal wing only meant more contact with the royals themselves. This was the last thing you needed-

"Your majesty-" He held up a hand. "Dont protest, Y/n. You were hurt because of my present and while I appreciate that you defended it, I do not wish to see you hurt. Ibrahim, find her a room and shift her there by tonight. And assign a few guards and servants to Y/n as well. I dont want her to feel unsafe again." Suleiman looked at Ibrahim with a serious expression. "I trust her in your hands, Ibrahim."

"Of course, your majesty." Ibrahim nodded.

Suleiman looked back at you, a gentle smile on his face. "I would like you to join us for dinners now." He gently pushed your back and Mahidevran immediately scooted a bit closer to Suleiman's seat and patted the space beside her... and next to Mustafa.

Hurrem glared at the blatant display of intentions- Mahidevran showed her "generosity and humbleness" by letting you sit next to her to please Suleiman, and also make you sit next to her son to get close with.

At this moment, both queens are under the impression that Suleiman wants you to be his future daughter-in-law, so both women think that the other is making her son court you because the first one to marry you will produce a heir, further legitimising the prince's claim to the throne and becoming the next sultan, especially since Suleiman views you to be the perfect, pious woman who would be the perfect mother for his grandkids.

The only difference is- Mahidevran wants you to be Mustafa's spouse, not because she thinks you're a good match for her perfect son, but because she wants to speed up Mustafa's claim to the throne. She knows Suleiman prefers Hurrem over her (Hurrem's five kids are proof of that), and since she has no child other than Mustafa, Mahidevran is at disadvantage and she needs every advantage she can get, no matter how savoury it is- like you.

Hurrem on the other hand, does not want you as her Mehmed's spouse, because you're not what she had in mind for her precious son. She wants someone soft, demure, submissive, beautiful and more importantly- someone she can control. But she also knows what game Mahidevran is playing, and since Hurrem doesnt want Mustafa trying to steal the throne from Mehmed, Hurrem will have to just- get rid of you.

-

"So... the sultan just said that outloud?" Baris ate a date from the fancy table in your brand new chambers. "He just announced that you're his "daughter" to everyone?" He heard you groan a yes from your place on the bed- face buried in the pillows.

"And Mahidevran sultana made you sit between her and sehzade Mustafa?" He heard you groan another "yes".

Baris plopped down next to you. "So you're marrying Mustafa. Huh, didnt bet on that-"

"You bet on this?" You asked miserably, finally pulling your head up. "Of course, need to make money. Unlike you, not everyone has the oppurtunity to marry into royalty-"

You smack a pillow right across his face. "If I hear you talk about marriage again, I will strangle you."

Baris rolled his eyes, fixing his hair that you'd messed up. "I dont know why you're so upset. Did you want to sit next to Mehmed instead? If so, maybe I can still win the bet-"

"I dont want either of them!" You stated frustratedly, sitting up. "Do you not get it- I dont want to be a part of royalty! They're- they're all mad! My life would be in constant threat- from jealous concubines, possessive mother-in-laws, throne hungry princes. I dont want that!"

"Is it because you want Ibrahim pasha?"

You blinked at him. What? "What?"

Baris rubbed his chin. "Oh come on, I saw the way you two looked at each other before you entered the dining room- how the pasha promised to protect you, even from the sultan's wrath."

"Are you like- fishing for anything? For fun?" You shake your head at him.

Baris gave you a look. "Really? What about you going in and lying to protect him? He didnt even say anything before you took the chance to save him."

"I saved him because it was the right thing to do! Not because I love him!" You exclaimed, throwing your hand in the air. "If this is how you think, please- PLEASE resist the urge to ever help me! I dont want a proposal coming from you just because you saved me from choking."

Baris glared at you. "First of all- I'm never going to be as blind as the sehzade when it comes to love. Secondly, you'd be lucky to have me as a husband. At least your offspring will have a chance at looking somewhat normal-" You lunged at him and put him in a chokehold while Baris grabbed at your hijaab covered head to pull you off.

Your fighting match is brought to a halt as someone knocks on the door.

Mustafa stands outside your door, surprised to see Baris looking slightly disheveled when he opened your door.

"Baris? What are you doing here?" Mustafa asked, watching the eunuch fix his collar.

"Ah sehzade! Oh I was just helping Hatun Y/n adjust to her room. Shift her things in here." Baris faked a smile.

Mustafa nodded before lowering his voice. "Is she awake?"

"Yes yes- please come in." Mustafa walked inside just as you appeared out of the wooden divider screen, adjusting your niqaab.

"Sehzade." You gave him a courtesy. "How may I help you?"

Mustafa gave you a gentle smile, his moustache quirking up handsomely. "I would like to ask you to spend the day with me tomorrow."

You froze, and you didnt dare look at Baris who you knew was sporting a smug look because you didnt want to throw your shoe at his face in front of the prince.

"I- I think I am busy with Mihrimah sultana tomorrow-"

"No, I asked her. She said she's happy to skip her lessons for tomorrow." Mustafa cut your excuse. "I'll come by after breakfast. Good night, Y/n."

-

Even though Mustafa said he'll see you after breakfast, which for royals was just an hour before noon, you were woken up by Baris at the ass crack of dawn.

"Baris! What the hell?" You glared at him when he yanked the covers off you. Baris grinned at you. "As much as I'd like to believe in beauty sleep, its so not helping in your case. Come on, you need a bath and a lot of other stuff!"

He'd brought fine silk gowns and matching niqaabs (which you insisted on wearing despite Baris voicing his displeasure).

Currently, one of the maids had just finished doing your eye makeup- which in this case was kohl, and some dried berries crushed to a fine powder to make a rouge sort of shade.

"Since your eyes may be the only thing the prince sees, we need to make them bewitching!" Baris had commented before spraying you down with a lot of perfume.

"That's enough!" You push the bottle away as you coughed at the musky, earthy perfume. "Isnt that for men?" You ask coughing.

Baris's grin only widened. "Its sehzade Mustafa's favourite attar! I had to bribe his chamber servant to tell me this. And you my darling-" He sprayed you again. "-need to smell like him so that he thinks you two are a perfect fit!"

"That is literally the stupidest thing I've heard-" your insult is cut short as your vision is blinded by Baris flipping up your veil to reveal your lower half of the face and him applying some crushed berries juice to your lips.

"Just in case you have a change of morals and want to kiss the prince." He jumped back when you tried to slap him.

Soon, Mustafa came to fetch you. You two were currently walking through the royal gardens, with you giving curt answers so that he would lose interest in you and leave you alone.

Your dismissal didnt go unnoticed by him. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"Read." You answer looking at the well cut hedges. "Have you been to the royal library?" He looks down at you, finding you gazing at the flowers. "Yes. I've already read all of the books there." In college, of course.

"All of them?" His disbelief makes you look at him. Finally. Mustafa thinks.

"Of course." You answer, offended.

"Even the royal ancestry book?" Mustafa raises a brow at you.

"Yes." Your brows furrow. "Ask me anything."

He shakes his head and chuckles. "I doubt you know more about my ancestors than me."

When he looked back at you, you were still looking at him expectantly.

"Ask me."

Mustafa's curiosity got the best of him at your determination.

"This is- this is incredible." Mustafa commented, his eyes wide as he looked at the ancestry book from where he basically quizzed you. He didnt know he was talking to a historian who had pulled all nighters for pretty much every major empire for finals.

"How did you learn all of this?" He asks you, still double checking your answers.

"Oh... I have good memory." You mutter, making him shake his head at you with an amusing smile.

"Of course, I should've figured. You're a hafidha, you're passionate for learning." And passionate for making money in trivias.

Mustafa closes the book. "So, since you've read every book in here, I suppose you must be bored?" He doesnt wait for an answer when an idea pops in his mind. "Come on, lets go."

You follow him, trying to keep up with his fast pace. "Go where?"

"To get you new books." He looks over his shoulder and gives you charming grin.

Your steps falter. New books? "We're leaving the palace?" He hums.

You havent left the palace since you came here, mostly because you havent been able to leave.

You match his pace. "Lets go!" And Mustafa finally sees you excited for the first time today.

With a few Janissaries and some disguise, you all head out into Istanbul. You're looking around the city like a kid in a candy store, only you're looking for a something or someone to help you fix your time machine.

The market comes into view along with the sound of hawkers trying to attract customers. Of course, the only shopkeeper who wasnt yelling was the blacksmith, allowing his hammer to garner the attention of serious clients.

He could be of use. If you're able to find some tools, maybe even get some metal films, you could try to spark a charge and trigger the time machine to work.

You start to take a few steps towards him when Mustafa grabs your shoulder and pulls you back to him. "Where are you going? Stay close to me. I dont want to lose you." He tells you, almost in a chiding tone, but his hands carefully pulling your robes around you said otherwise.

He lead you towards a bookshop. Mustafa nodded at you to go ahead, explore and get any book you want. He'll buy it.

While you were busy browsing, Mustafa couldnt help but steal glances at you. He didnt understand why he was doing this- he couldnt really see your face, or anything except for your eyes.

Your eyes, they were pretty but its not their beauty that really captivates him. Its the swirl of emotions in them. The mystery in them, like there's... more to you. Like you're hiding something.

Perhaps it was your mannerisms. Your dismissive nature, your tendency to not be impressed easily by their eccentricities or status, almost as if you've lived with royalty before.

Maybe he likes how different you treat him him. How you dont bend over backwards to please his family, or try to pursue him or his brothers. In fact, you almost seem to be avoiding them altogether.

You intrigue him. Badly. Amusingly. Adorably.

-

"I dont understand! Where could she have gone?" Mihirmah whined to her brother at lunch. Mehmed only raised a brow. "Who? Y/n? She might be in her room recovering from yesterday's events. She was pretty shaken up-"

"I already checked! She's not there!" Mihirmah sighed before laying her head in his lap, and he began patting her hair. "She went out with Mustafa but she still hasnt returned! Its lunch time and I planned on teaching her sword fight! For self defense, you know- so that she doesnt get beat up like last time."

Mehmed's hand stopped patting. "She's with Mustafa?"

She nodded. "Since morning!"

"Huh." Mihirmah sat up, looking at her brother puzzled.

"What? What is it?" She asked him.

"Nothing." He faked a smile, but Mihirmah knew him like the back of her hand. "Mehmed. Tell me."

"I just... dont understand why Mustafa is spending time with her." He stated, standing up to walk to the balcony. "She's your teacher. What business does Mustafa have with her?"

Mihirmah watched her brother stiffen suddenly, watched the way his jaw ticked as he looked down the balcony. She stood up and joined him, following his gaze to see what he was looking at.

Its you. And Mustafa. Finally returning to the palace, servants holding piles of books following behind you two. What's even more bizarre is to see Mustafa smiling down at you while you giggled, covering your mouth despite the niqaab, making you look even more bashful.

Even Mihirmah hadnt ever seen you so joyful, and yet here you are- laughing so gleefully with her eldest brother. Step brother.

It rubbed her off the wrong way.

"You want her?" She asked him, her voice so hollow that it made Mehmed look at her.

"What?"

Mihirmah looked at him, her eyes stern. "Do. You. Want. Her?"

Unwavering determination. Thats what he saw in his sister's face.

Say the word, and it'll be done.

Mehmed stared at her.

"Yes."

-

"I hope you had a good time." Mustafa asked you as he walked you to your chambers. You nodded. "I did. Thank you, sehzade." Despite your best attempts at dismissing him, Mustafa was very persistent at breaking down your walls. And sure, part of you giggled and pretended to be flustered at his words, you mainly acted cordial so that he may take you out of the palace more often. He was your only way out at the moment.

You both stopped outside your door, the servants walking past you to place your books inside. Mustafa looked satisfied.

"If you ever need to go outside again, feel free to come to me, Y/n." He offered, before taking out a small box from his pocket and handing it to you.

Your heart dropped. A ring? Now? This fast? No no no no no-

You opened the box and you felt life returning back to you. It was a gold broach adorned with rubies and a diamond in the center, encaged in an intricate heart pattern.

"I may not share my father's gift of handcrafting jewels, but I do happen to be skilled at acquiring precious jewels on my conquests." Mustafa informed you as he took the broach from the box and looked at you for permission before pinning it to your hijab, just below your collar bone.

You were too stunned to stop him or even turn down the gift, though Mustafa took your silence as awe.

He adjusted the broach.

"Perfect." He whispered, looking into your eyes.

You watched him leave with a grin, finally able to breathe when he was out of sight.

With a sigh, you enter your chambers, half expecting Baris to be sprawled over your bed waiting to tease you for details on your outing.

What you werent expecting was... her.

"Did you have fun?" The sultana asked, her eyes sharp. "I've been waiting for you, Y/n. Lets have a chat, hm?"

Shit.

-

"You're abnormal." Your hands stop adjusting your hijab as you glare at him through the mirror.

"What?"

Baris tilted his head. "You're abnormal." He repeated.

You turn around from the vanity and glare at him. "Is this another way of calling me ugly?"

"Tch. No, I have words for that." He shook his head. "I meant, you've been acting weird since yesterday, after you returned from your secret outing with sehzade Mustafa."

"You're imagining things." You mumble, turning back to the vanity mirror and picking up the broach Mustafa gave you.

Baris scoffed. "I am not. I may have been busy with the younger royal kids yesterday, but I did manage to catch a glimpse of you giggling and blushing when you returned with the prince." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So that means, the day went good. Something happened on the way to your chambers." He narrowed his eyes at you. "Did you kiss him?"

You whipped your head. "Baris!" He palmed his face. "Sorry, I forgot you're the religious prude. Did he kiss you?"

"No, Baris! No one kissed anyone." You began pinning the broach to your hijab, the same area where Mustafa had placed it yesterday. But you werent able to, too frustrated at the interrogation.

Baris grabbed the broach from you and pinned it in place. "So, you two didnt kiss, bought you enough books to make a you a scholar, and gifted you this broach, and you're disturbed because...?"

You frowned. "I am not disturbed. You're just reading too much into this."

"Fine, dont tell me. I'll find out on my own." You walked past him to teach your Quran lesson.

As much as you'd like to think that you're sly, Baris is right. Something did happen. After you'd returned to your room, you were met there by Mahidevran sultana.

You were reasonably scared because you thought that she's here to torture you or even kill you because you've been "seducing Mustafa" or whatever rumour Baris has spread about you.

But you were surprised when she told you that she wants you and Mustafa together, in marriage. As soon as possible. For the next half hour, Mahidevran basically told you all about the likes and dislikes of her son so that you would accustom yourself to them and then emphasised how supportive she would be of you to be her daughter-in-law. She even encouraged you to... sleep with him, she didnt say it directly but you got the meaning behind her words.

At the end of her lecture, she warned you to not spend time with Hurrem or any of her offsprings, besides Mihirmah because you are her teacher and even then told you to keep your interaction strictly formal and minimum.

When she was about to leave, she spotted the broach on your clavicle and beamed, almost proudly so. When you confirmed that Mustafa gave it to you, and started to take it off to return it to her, she stopped you and told you to wear it everyday. EVERYDAY.

"My son has given you something. You should be honoured. Cherish it." Mahidevran ordered.

The main reason you didnt tell Baris about Mahidevran and her confusing but threatening demands to court Mustafa was because of Baris's blabber mouth that couldnt hold a secret if his life depended on it.

And you have enough on your plate as it is.

You enter Mihirmah's chambers, bowing as you spot her.

"Ah! Welcome! Sit, sit!" Mihirmah pats down the seat next to her and you're slightly suspicious of her energy.

She's upto something.

You sit down beside her, opening the Quran. "I think we should start with-" She closed the book in your hands.

"In a minute. Lets talk first, hm?" She smiled at you. "How was your day off yesterday? Well rested?"

Your shoulders sag slightly. Of course, she wants to know about your day out with Mustafa. Baris probably blabbered something to spark her curiosity like this.

"Yes. A much needed break. Quite refreshing." You tell her, purposely keeping away from the details, lest she gets the wrong idea again and accuses you of whoring around your "ugly self" to her brother.

"Mmhm. Had fun with Mustafa?" Her sharp tone made you look at her.

Is she implying something?

"The prince was kind enough to get me some books." You told her cautiously, trying to ease the tension. "I think you'd like some of them-"

"Mustafa sleeps around." You blinked at her. What were you supposed to do with this unsolicited information.

"Okay...?"

She shrugged, picking up her cup of tea. "I'm just saying- he's been with a lot of women. The other day I was reading a verse from Quran where it mentioned adultery. Then I realised- thats what Mustafa is. An adulterer."

"You read Quran without me making you-"

"Mustafa is an adulterer, Y/n. Allah will not forgive him. He's doomed for hell."

"Actually, if he repents sincerely-"

"He's doomed, Y/n. Doomed." She reiterated.

"By that logic, so are most of your ancestors. I think most men, kings and princes commit adultery-"

"Mehmed doesnt." She stared at you. "He's never slept with anyone. He's a good Muslim man. Allah will be pleased with him."

What is going on here? "Um... okay. That's great news for sehzade Mehmed."

"And for you." Mihirmah announced. "You are the lucky one."

"What?"

She let out a sigh of frustration, as if she has to state the obvious. "Mehmed likes you- no, he loves you-" "Loves me?" "Shh! I'm still talking. You have caught his eye for some reason, so you should end whatever it is that you have with Mustafa and be loyal to my brother."

The room was silent, the two of you staring at each other- you, in confusion. Mihirmah, in determination.

A crow croaked outside.

"First of all, I have nothing going on with sehzade Mustafa. Secondly, Mehmed said he loves me?" You asked while trying not to show resentment.

Mihirmah scoffed. "He doesnt have to say it, I know it."

Your tension deflates to some extent. Okay, so she's just making up stuff. This can be handled.

"Mihirmah, I understand how-" you resist the urge to roll your eyes "-you may think Mehmed may be attracted to me, I am honoured, really. But I can assure you, Mehmed does not love me."

"No, I love you." Your head whips around at the sound of his voice.

Mehmed. He's standing behind you.

"Sehzade-" you begin standing up to bow to him, but he holds up a hand.

"Mihirmah's right. I love you." Mihirmah beamed proudly at standing correct.

Your eyes could only widen in horror as Mehmed sank down to sit right beside you, and with Mihirmah on your other side, you were trapped between the siblings.

"I. Love. You." Mehmed repeated, his hazel eyes staring into yours.

After several moments of silence, a crow croaked again. Mihirmah nudged you to say something.

"Um-" You cleared your throat. "Ugh... thank you."

Mehmed's brows shot up in surprise while Mihirmah broke into a fit of laughter.

"Thank... you?" Mehmed asked, and you would've thought he was mad if it werent for the amused smile on his face.

Mihirmah continued to laugh, and you had to look back at her to make her stop. "I-I'm sorry, Mehmed- this was- this was just too funny. I mean, she has a prince, the next heir of the empire confess her love and all she says is "thank you"?" She said, chuckling as she wiped the tear from her eye.

Mehmed glared at her playfully. "Well, maybe she's just shy around you." Why are they talking about you like you're not right there?

Mihirmah hummed, then nodded. "Perhaps you're right. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. I have to do something-"

"What? Why? You dont have anything to do." You stopped her from standing up. You dont want to be alone with Mehmed.

"I do!" She narrowed her eyes at you.

"Like what?"

"Like-" her eyes zeroed in on your broach. "-pretty. Mustafa gave it?"

"Yes-" you yelped as she grabbed it and pulled it off you, ripping the niqaab it was pinned with along.

"Mihirmah!" Mehmed yelled at her, his eyes stern. You could only stare at her in disbelief before turning away from Mehmed to hide your bare face now.

"Oops! I'm sorry Y/n! I'll go get you a new niqaab- this one is all torn!" She said without an ounce of remorse before leaving the room.

Mehmed shakes his head as he watched her leave, before turning his attention to you- or well, your back.

"Y/n?" He called out to you softly. "I'm sorry for Mihirmah. She... she doesnt mean you any harm. She's just- she sometimes doesnt realise how hurtful her actions can be when she's trying to help someone."

When you didnt reply, Mehmed grew slightly worried. "Y/n?" He sighed when you didnt reply. An idea popped in his head as he looked around the room before looking down.

You heard the sound of cloth ripping, your heart dropping as you assumed the worst. He wasnt going to-

Your head turned around just as Mehmed's hands encircled around your head, a red cloth blocking your view of him.

"Mehmed?" You whispered, scared. His frozen hands seemed to snap out of it and began encircling round your head, the red cloth in his grip brought closer to your face. Thats when your eyes landed on the bottom of his red shirt (kemis). It was ripped.

Mehmed had torn his shirt to make a niqaab for you.

His eyes were focused on tying the makeshift veil, securing it before they landed on you.

"Y/n?" He called your name gently again, his concern growing at the sight of tears pooling in your eyes. He softly sighed as a his hand reached up to wipe a tear that escaped your eye.

"You're that scared of me?" After a few moments, you sniffled as more tears escaped your eyes and you shook your head. "Then?" When you didnt reply, or couldnt as you continued to cry mutely, he took it as a sign that you were humiliated because of Mihirmah removing your veil.

He took a deep breath and cupped your face gingerly before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"My mind is occupied by you. I think about you all the time. Perhaps...I only think about you, moon." He wiped another tear with his thumb. "I love you, my moon. I fear I... I love you too much. My heart holds so much love for you, I can hardly call it my own anymore." He then kissed your teary eyes one by one.

"I know you... you dont love me yet, but one day, when you find yourself being generous, I want you to be the one holding my heart in your hands. Its yours, moon. Yours."

-

Baris waited with a few guards and servants outside Mihirmah's room, when Mehmed left the room with a satisfied smiled on his face. Baris noted the bottom of his torn shirt but before he could comment on it, Mehmed asked him where Mihirmah was.

"She went to see sehzade Mustafa. Shall I fetch her?" Mehmed waved him off, saying he'll go get her himself, after all- Mihirmah still had to finish her lesson with you.

Mehmed had just turned around the corner when you came out of the room.

"Y/n-" Baris called out to you but you sped past him, and he didnt chase after you when he saw your red eyes.

He'll tease you later, when you're not so sad. For now, he has to report the sight of this to someone.

-

Even if Mihirmah hadnt bumped into Mustafa and proudly showed off the broach he'd gifted you, the news would've still somehow made its way to him by the servants whispers.

"Oh this broach? Its pretty, isnt it?" Mihirmah smirked, showing it off to Mustafa. "Y/n gave it to me."

"She... gave it to you?" His gift. You gave it away?

She nodded. "Mmhm. She said it wasnt that precious to her, so she gave it. She was going to throw it away, but it went well with my dress so I took it."

You were going to discard his gift? Just like that?

"Mihirmah. There you are." Mehmed walked over to her. "Mustafa." He greeted his brother.

"Mehmed." He looked at his shirt. "What happened to your shirt?"

Mehmed grinned. "Nothing." He then looked at Mihirmah. "Come on, Y/n is waiting for you. I talked to her."

Mustafa could only watch the two siblings beam at each other as the taste in his mouth soured.

His broach. Torn shirt. Mehmed "talked" to you.

Mahidevran could feel her blood boil at the complaints Mustafa brought to her. Even if he didnt, the maids she'd hired to spy on you had already reported of everything they'd witnessed. You and Mehmed alone in Mihirmah's room.

Did you not understand a single word she said? Does she need to give you a more stern warning this time?

"Hurrem must've put them upto this." She muttered, before her gaze flickered to her worried son. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dont worry, Mustafa. I will fix this. You focus on Y/n, hm? You deserve her, my lion."

So? How was it?

Part 10 is here!

[jellybelly-may]

❝𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐑𝐞𝐯 𝐒𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬!❞

‎‎‧₊˚✧[this is why i don't bring anyone home!]✧˚₊‧

Sano Siblings + Izana (with a younger sibling!) ft Grandpa Sano [platonic!]

cw: -

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

General Hcs:

living with this family is…chaotic lively

Grandpa Sano usually sits at the table, reading his papers as the chaos unfold

there’s always a mix of teasing, laughter

and occasional bickering

scratch that - a shit ton of bickering

and mostly it comes from mikey vs izana

emma pops in now and then

shinichiro tries to butt in but gets targetted instead

you’re the baby of the family

usually you get coddled by your older siblings

not that you mind

they sure have their own ways to show their love to you tho

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Shinichiro

the classic doting oldest brother

takes you for rides on his bike 

at safe speeds unlike mikey

teaches you all the basics of bike maintenance

even though youre not interested 

if you are, then it’s a bonus for him

he’s the one you go to when you need advice

or when you’ve had a rough day

his shop is your safe haven, where you can hang out and watch him work on bikes

occasionally you meet his friends from his previous gang

speaking of which, you always get to listen to stories about his younger days (which he subtly hints the life lessons learned) 

and of course you know his embarrassing stories thanks to waka-nii san

of course shinichiro denies it

he might not be the strongest, but he’s got a heart of gold and always puts you first

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Manjiro/ Mikey

the overprotective brother!

mikey’s protective instincts kick in full force when it comes to you

anyone who tries to mess with you quickly regrets it

mikey ends them with a roundhouse kick to their head

he has a soft spot for you that most people dont see

surprisingly shares his food with you 

when hes not leading toman or fighting in general, he spends time with you usually by napping with you during the afternoon

that or he takes you on rides that are a little too fast for your liking

secretly happy when you express interest in bikes, just like him and shinichiro

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Emma

the caring, nurturing older sister

she’s the one who helps you with schoolwork, does your hair, and gives you advice on friendships

although you really can’t trust her with relationship advice because of that incident with a certain blond  

forgive me emma

loves loves loves going shopping or visiting new cafes with you

loves treating you sweet treats and sharing gossip

emma is your go-to for any girl talk or when you need a listening ear

likes to show you off to her friends because

youre the cutest and smartest thing ever!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Izana 

the distant protective brother

while izana is more distant, he has a soft spot for you

that he doesnt show 

he’s protective of you in his own way

keeps tabs on you from afar to make sure you’re safe

probably makes the tenjiku members to keep an eye on you too

when hes around tho, he often acts like he’s not interested

but you catch him watching over you or giving you advice in his own cryptic way

izana might take you to places that are meaningful to him 

will snowball fight with you ONLY if you start first

lets you care for his pet fish and plants when hes not around

quietly plays some songs for you on his guitar when you’re napping 

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Grandpa Sano

makes sure you all don't fight to the extreme

pretty sure he teaches you karate basics for self defense ofc

or he makes mikey to do it

tells you old stories of your siblings

especially embarrassing ones

nags your older brothers to look out for you since they’re involved in gangs 

incredibly proud of all his grandchildren 

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Bonus scene:

The Sano household was anything but quiet on this sunny morning.

The smell of freshly cooked eggs and toast filled the air as you hurriedly set the table, trying to dodge the occasional flying object—usually something small that Mikey and Izana had tossed at each other in their ongoing spat.

"Shin, tell Mikey to stop being a brat!" Izana growled, his eyes narrowing as Mikey smirked across the table, arms crossed proudly.

"Mikey, stop riling him up!" Shinichiro pleaded, stepping between them and waving his arms in a desperate attempt to keep the peace.

"We’re supposed to be having a nice breakfast!"

"Tell him to quit being so sensitive!" Mikey shot back, sticking out his tongue.

"Both of you, knock it off!" Shinichiro’s voice had that exasperated tone you knew all too well. He looked at you for backup, but you were too busy trying to keep the plates from tipping over in the chaos.

Meanwhile, Emma was at the stove, completely unfazed by the ruckus.

"You guys better sit down and eat before the food gets cold," she called over her shoulder.

You finished setting the table, carefully placing Grandpa Sano’s favorite tea cup in front of him. The old man sat at the head of the table, newspaper in hand, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil unfolding around him. He hummed contentedly as he read, occasionally sipping his tea.

As you took your seat, Mikey and Izana finally settled down—more due to the smell of Emma’s cooking than Shinichiro’s pleas. Mikey grabbed a pancake from the stack before it even hit the table, while Izana rolled his eyes but followed suit.

"Calm down, there’s plenty for everyone," Emma said, placing the platter in the center of the table. She then took her seat next to you, reaching over to serve herself some eggs.

Shinichiro sighed in relief, finally sitting down as well. "Can we please just have one peaceful meal?"

"Maybe next time, Shin," you teased, nudging him with a grin.

Grandpa Sano lowered his newspaper, peering over the top with a twinkle in his eye. "Ah, nothing like a good, lively breakfast to start the day," he said, completely unbothered by the earlier commotion.

Despite the chaos, the room was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of utensils as everyone finally started eating. It might have been a mess, but it was your family’s mess, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it ( Bradley bradshaw x reader ) part one

summary : everyone thought since they were best friend that their kids would be but after some unknown reason bradley bradshaw and y/n mitchell hated each other . after confrontation one night that leaves bradley in a dry spell well the guys make a claim and bradley's willing to bet and prove them wrong all he had to do was get into a relationship with the one person that couldn't stand him .

warning : enemies to lovers, bradley bit of a dick in the start not gonna lie , bet trope , age gap ( ten years hes 38 , she 28 ) this series is gonna be a roller coaster of emotions

They were soulmate platonic  where Mav was, goose was not far behind , both mischievous , both good at what they did . best friends til the end of time even if the time was short lived . so naturally people thought it would be the same with their kids and yet they were very wrong. It was like the two were fire and ice constantly going against each other whenever they got close .  there was a break she went to med school as bradley was back at top gun only for their secret feud to fire back up when she was transferred to a hospital right in san diego and of course she was able to win the hearts of the dagger squad and her turning up to the hard deck it was his worst nightmare come true . if they weren’t locked in the childish back and forth it was ignoring the other existence all together which honestly their friends preferred and as aggravating as y/n mitchell could be nothing was going to dampen bradley bradshaws mood tonight. He almost floated over to his friends the moment he step into the hard deck . the smile on his face was almost cheek splitting when they all looked at him . 

“ guess who got a date with the barista” he flashed his dazzling smile pulling the aviator to perch on his nose . 

“  nice even for you chicken” hangman nodded. 

“ well bagman you know i could give you some advice  , i mean i guess it been a dry spell” he shrugged taking his seat beside phoenix who rolled her eyes and called them both “ disgusting pigs”. 

“ yeah i don’t need advice we both now i do well and even better than you” . 

“ god you both ever gonna tire of the hook ups “ she groaned . 

“ hey this could be best date of my life and she could be the one” bradley smirked. 

Before they could even say more the door open and an excited y/n bounded towards them . 

“ i pass the interview i passed it” she yelled excitedly. 

“ wait the internship in new york?” nat asked unsure of how to feel . 

“ yes it’s not til six month from now but  in six month i will be heading to big city and studying under the greats of pediatrics “ she excitedly dance in her spot barely even sparing the usually happy man in her wake. 

“A date with hot ass woman and she leaving jesus this is my lucky day” rooster felt like crying he was so happy. 

“ in six month pornstache … wow playing in the dog park finally worked out good job” she smiled only for jake to lift her up and spin her around . 

“Knew you could do it , what i tell you this morning” he chuckled ruffling her hair. 

“ not to doubt myself “ she smiled bashfully . “ shit there’s my dad i’ll be back “ she giggled rushing off . 

“ or don’t that’s a good option “ rooster smiled. 

“ i don’t get why you don’t like her” fanboy mused . 

“ because you’ll learn like i did she’ll drop you like that no reason” he rolled his eyes sick of his friend constantly going on about how great she was honestly he thought the same one time and well he learned his lesson . 

“ people change or maybe you done something “ jake mused although he may of know more than he let on giving how close he and y/n got over the two years since she came to san diego. 

“ day that happens i’ll sell my bronco “ bradley scoffed. “ going to the mens room if my date comes tell her i’ll be out in a minute” . 

She stood watching the news sinking in from excitement to straight on nerves .  hoping he would show even a hint of happiness for her . 

“ it’s great news but we .. i just got you back” he smiled uneasy . 

“ it’s only a short flight and i’ll be home for holidays come on dad this is once in a lifetime opportunity i’m literally the youngest and female to be accepted on to this programme “ she almost pleaded with him . 

“ how long is it” 

“ two years with a chance to stay on in new york or head back to my residency here which i will because it will earn my spot on more paid job and more opportunities  it’s only two years and i can visit” she repeated . 

“ well i still got you for six months so i better make most of it i am proud of you but your my baby girl too … penny round on me to celebrate my daughters great work” he smiled sadly although he meant it when he said he was proud . 

“ i’ll have this one with you next one with the guys “ she smiled . 

“ sorry i was suppose to meet someone here and i don’t think i can see him “ a woman called making them turn . 

“ who you looking for honey “ penny beamed 

“ bradley bradshaw oh god i have the wrong place don’t i “ she chuckled . 

“  the wrong man i’d run if i was you” another woman scoffed. 

“ you sure he was charming when i met him “ the girls eyes widened . 

“ really rooster is great guy , don’t listen cheryl she as bitter as those gins “ y/n smiled . 

“ yeah great guy when he and hangman used me as pawn in their who can sleep with most women game , i think i was number 8 made me think i was special never felt the spark like it “ 

“ she’s drunk really rooster is great , he’s sweet and listens to good music “  y/n defended more although she didn’t know why he was an ass to her all time even though he was one that hurt her all those years.

“ sure look he already over there high fiving his friend “ cheryl smirked as the other girl eyes narrowed before y/n  could say anything the woman was barrelling over like a storm . 

Now as bradley looked up ready to greet his date what he didn’t expect was the slap across his face or the anger of a bull on her. 

“ you bastard i thought .. shit i thought one decent guy out there til that woman set me straight “ she pointed over at cheryl although bradley misread it  now he was pissed. 

“ whatever she said was crock of shit  trust me” he defended. 

“ so you and some guy called hangman didn’t have a sleezy contest i will not be a part of delete my number asshole “ was all she said before storming out the bar completely . 

“ she has got some nerve” was all bradley said before he storming towards the bar only he wasn’t going for the right person . 

“ what the hell is your problem  what me being happy isn’t good enough you have to ruin it “ he pulled y/n around as she almost looked shocked. 

“ i didn’t … i didn’t do anything” she stuttered out completely confused. 

 “ yeah you told her about stupid game me and hangman had … do you really like ruining things for me i mean life was great til you showed up here making everyone think your some little sweetheart when in actuality  your’re a cold hearted bitch” he scoffed. 

“ and you said he was a great guy” cheryl laughed . 

“ i guess i was wrong, drop dead rooster “ y/n walked off ignoring everyone’s calls . 

“ shit that girl defended you after i told your date what your really like jesus thanks for proving me right”cheryl saunter off playing her bill and leaving . 

“ wait wait what “ he froze . 

“ rooster what the hell .. you two used to love each other now god your at each others throat but never like that ...   i thought you were better than that .. godson or not you talk to her like that again we’re gonna have problems “ mav warned as he headed out the door .  leaving bradley looking like biggest dickhead in the hard deck head low and tail between his legs he headed back to the table the guys were bar nat and jake who probably fixing his fuck up . 

“ wow harsh man” payback whistled lowly . 

“ yeah not my finest moment “ he grumbled . 

That  sentence was like a mantra on his tongue hell he didn’t want to admit it the dry spell he was having which after his outburst completely extended it first couple of week no girl would even look his way hitting another bust as he headed back to the rest of his squad as y/n sat with jake as far as she could barely even looking his way til she ended up smiling at her phone and bidding the rest a farewell , he didn’t want to admit it but the complete freeze out was worse than before the fact she didn’t even give him a second thought was driving him crazy maybe  the dry spell was affecting him more than he thought . 

“ guess it was a bust” fanboy smirked. 

“ losing your status rooster”  javy laughed , 

“ maybe it for the best between him and hangman  they going to sleep through san diego or that was case” bob chuckled . 

“ now what i would love to see is either of them try a relationship they would fold the second things get serious” payback  pointed out . 

“ ok first ouch bob i’m nothing like bagman  and second i could do serious relationship with any girl “ he stood hand on hips . 

“ not any girl “ bob mused . 

“ baby on board is right not any girl “ jake leaned against the pool table maybe it was a risk and shit if it ended badly well he would hate it but he could see it , he could see it the moment she walked into the hard deck two years ago . 

“ i’d bet my bronco on it “ bradley stood falling into the trap hook line and sinker . 

“ you sure you wanna bet on something you’ll lose chicken ?”  he goaded willing him to take the bait . 

“ fuck it your on bagman name her , point her out” he stood toe to toe with the man . 

“ easy y/n “ that damn smile , the cocky one rooster loved to wipe of his face and yet this one was gonna be tough shit did he have it in him. “ you really are a chicken on it “ he had him hook , line  

“ your on “  sinker .

A.N : Let me know if you wanna be added to taglist for future parts

[cryptidghostgirl]

Are your requests still open? I was hoping for a request for a Lucifer x sinner reader where she was once in love with someone when she was alive but they betrayed her leading to her death causing her to be afraid of letting others in. She's been a resident of the hotel since the pilot, but doesn't really talk much about her feelings or past life but is convinced by Charlie who says singing helps her when she needs to get out her own emotions. So when she thinks everyone is gone for the day on one of Charlie's bonding field trips, she uses the piano in the main area to sing her heart out, not realizing Lucifer decided to stay. The song I'm thinking of is "Perfect Doesn't Last" by Beth Crowley. So when she sings it and he overhears listening and watching her he's reminded of Lilith and feels for the reader understanding her more than when they first met during his first visit to the hotel (ep 5). I'm not sure of how to end it, so if you want to add anything to it I'm totally up for it. I just thought this song would match him so well.

A/N this is my first time writing for this man. Also,, i think it’s so funny that everyone is just like “short king” even tho alastor is canonically at least seven feet tall and charlie is at least like six feet tall. that’s so silly of us.

Encore (Lucifer x Reader)

Paring: Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse briefly mentioned.

Word Count: 2,169

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Lucifer had just wanted to visit Charlie. With their relationship on the up and up, he was eager to not give up his chance to fix things with his favorite and only daughter. However, when he arrived at the hotel, throwing the doors open in unadulterated excitement, it was to find the normally busy lobby area empty.

The door fell shut behind him and his smile slipped from his face. Carefully, he ran his eyes over every inch of the room. There really was no one to be found.

"Maybe they're just all in their rooms, yeah." he said aloud to himself, "Charlie is probably... in her office! It must take a lot of work to run a place like this. Yeah, that's what it is."

Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor had asked her to come with them to the movies. It was supposed to be a reward, for how hard they had all been working. They had really tried their best to convince Y/n to join them but, as always was the case when activities that took them out of the hotel were not required, Y/n had declined the offer.

Y/n was still getting used to Hell in all its big scary wonder, she still hurt. Everything was so complicated and while spending time with her thoughts didn't make her feel good per-say, spending time with others had been making her feel even worse. Besides, Charlie had given her some advice a few days ago she wanted to test out and she didn't exactly feel comfortable doing that while the hotel was crawling with people.

Y/n trusted Charlie. She was the first person to have extended a kind hand in her direction since her arrival in Hell. When Charlie had found out Y/n had been a concert pianist in the living world, she was elated.

"That's perfect!" she had said, leaning across the desk towards her, "We have a piano in the Hotel's auditorium!"

"I... I don't know if I really can... perform, right now. If that's alright." Y/n had replied, wringing her hands and unable to keep eyecontact.

"What? Oh no! That's not what I meant at all. It just seems... well if you did it for a living, you must have loved it. And it seems like you always have a lot on your mind, lots of stuff to process, and I know you don't like talking to people about it and, well, music always makes me feel better. It feels freeing, like I'm getting everything bottled up inside me out when I sing."

"I... I don't think I've ever really thought about it that way." she had admitted in response, "It was just something I had always done. I started lessons when I was three."

"Well, you should try it some time." Charlie had smiled back, "Maybe it will help."

Once she was sure everyone was gone and the hotel was hers alone, Y/n had slipped quietly from the confinement of her room. It had taken her a bit to find the auditorium. When she finally did and saw the piano it held, her breath caught in her throat.

It was a beautiful old baby grand made out of a warm cherry wood that matched the hotel's theming well. The lid had creaked when she had opened it, the keys had been dusty to the touch.

It had been a long time since she'd played. With mild joy, she let her fingers run the usual scales and arpeggios, finding a comfort in the familiarity of it all. Once satisfied her fingers were all warmed up and ready to play something real, she posed them over the keys.

Lucifer had lost himself in the depths of the labyrinthine hotel. The twists and turns of the hallways were unfamiliar to him despite the tour Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor had lead him on. His hope at finding his daughter and spending some time with her had long since flickered out. He was on the verge of going home, his hand half raised to open a portal, when he heard it.

A faint echo of music flooded the hallway and Lucifer froze. It was haunting and distant, it drew him in. His sights set on a new sort of entertainment for the afternoon, he listened carefully and began to follow the sound.

As he got closer to its source, Lucifer realized that who ever was making the music was not just playing the piano but singing. Their voice was soft and lovely, nearly ethereal in its sheer humanity and anguish.

I would have bet on us

We were untouchable, you and I

I couldn't get enough

It was a fairytale come to life

Lucifer at last reached the half open door to the room the music appeared to be coming from. Not wanting to disturb the artist just yet, he transformed into a snake and slithered his way silently into the room. There, sitting at the piano on the stage, was Y/n.

I had your heart

At least that's what I thought

Now I'm second guessing every moment

Wondering where we went so wrong

He didn't really know much about Y/n except that she was new to Hell. Charlie had mentioned off hand that she had died in an incident of domestic abuse. Lucifer had no idea why she had ended up in Hell or what she was really like. When he had visited the hotel the first time, Y/n had been quiet and reserved. She had stood to the side and watched, barley even introducing herself to him.

At first, he had thought it to be disrespect. Not every demon in Hell was his biggest fan after all and while he was used to it, it still stung that even one of his daughters would be reformed sinners would be blatantly rude to him. He had quickly realized however from her flittering eyes and the way she clutched at herself that it wasn't disrespect at all. Y/n had been nervous.

Of course, Lucifer had made an attempt to make her feel more comfortable but, when he had extended his metaphorical hand, Y/n had just closed herself off even further. According to Charlie and Angel Dust, that was just what the demoness was like. She was shy.

You got inside my head

Taking up every inch of space

'Til there was no room left

Her hands flew across the keys with a practiced grace. Lucifer felt she knew he was there, watching. He felt that she just might be performing for him.

So many parts of me erased

You had my heart

And tossed it in the dirt

As he listened to the words she sung, they resonated with him. For a split second, he could have sworn it was Lilith sitting there at the piano, not Y/n. He shut his eyes, shaking his head slightly. He was oddly grateful when he opened them again to find it had just been his imagination.

Now that was a first. Since Lilith had disappeared seven years ago, Lucifer had been a mess. Lucifer was always a mess but, Lilith leaving like that really did him in. She had been his rock, his guiding light, his everything. He had risked everything for her and he had lost. At least, back in the old days, he had gained something out of the chaos. A daughter, a wife, a world to try and shape. One after another, they were all taken from him. Even now, even with their relationship improving the way it was, he felt Charlie slipping away again.

Now I'm second guessing every moment

Wondering where we went so wrong

I just keep asking

Would this have been worth it if I knew the ending all along.

Without really thinking about it, Lucifer retook his normal form and sat down in one of the auditorium's front row seats. Thankfully, Y/n was too wrapped up in her own world to notice and she just continued to play.

What started so perfect was over too fast

I should have seen the warning signs

'Cause perfect doesn't last

Perfect doesn't last

Light shined off her face, that was how Lucifer had realized she was crying. Despite the tears, her voice never wavered. A performer at her core, just like him.

I would have bet on us

We were untouchable, you and I

As the last lingering notes echoed through the room, he began to clap. Y/n jumped at the noise, turning to face him with wide eyes and cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Lucifer was undeterred and, getting to his feet, gave her a standing ovation. After a few moments, he ceased in his applause.

"That was beautiful." he said, breaking the new silence that had fallen between them.

"Um, I'm sorry." Y/n's gaze fell back to the piano.

"No! No no no!" Lucifer exclaimed, jumping up onto the stage.

He kneeled before her, lifting her hands from her lap and taking them in his own. She turned to him, surprise drawing out the features of her face once again.

"Don't apologize for taking up space."

"I... I just didn't mean to disturb you is all. If you're looking for Charlie, she's out at the movies with everyone else."

"I was but, I can talk to her later, when she gets back. You didn't disturb me at all, Y/n. As I said, it was beautiful. It was..."

He trailed off, the smile slipping from his face.

"Oh fuck!" Y/n exclaimed, "I didn't mean to upset you! I'm really sorry, what can I do to make it better?"

"You didn't upset me." Lucifer shook his head, "You just... somehow managed to put words to the very things I've been struggling with the past couple years."

A smaller, much kinder and more genuine smile made its way onto his face.

"If you'd like to play more, I'd love to hear it."

Y/n's cheeks flushed red again.

"Theres no pressure." Lucifer shrugged, "Just giving you the option."

"An audience of one... well, it's a little intimidating." she admitted bashfully, "I'm used to the faceless mob of the crowd."

"I can see why. You have an undeniable gift."

"I guess... I don't know. Charlie just said it might help me process stuff. To play again, I mean."

"Was she right?"

Y/n paused in thought for a moment before nodding slowly.

"I think she might have been. My chest does feel a little lighter now."

"Then play."

"Um, mister... king of Hell? Sir?"

Lucifer laughed.

"You can just call me by my name. No formalities necessary. 'Mister king of Hell sir' was my fathers name."

Y/n laughed lightly at his terrible joke. The sound sparked a sudden joy in Lucifer's chest, one he hadn't felt in quite a long time.

"Well, Lucifer." she began again, stumbling a bit over his name.

"Yes?"

"I'll... um, I'll need my hands back. If I'm to keep playing."

"Wh..."

He looked down and his eyes widened. Lucifer hadn't realized he had still held her hands in his. Immediately he dropped them, getting to his feet and looking away in mild embarrassment.

"Sorry, about that."

"Don't apologize for existing." Y/n parroted his earlier words.

When he turned back to her, it was to find she was smiling slightly.

"How bad would it be if I said sorry again right now?"

"You'd be sounding like me."

"Lets make a deal then: no sorries unless something is actually wrong."

"What if I can't tell if your mad at me or not?"

Lucifer looked down at the seated demon. In not one of his wildest dreams could he ever imagine being mad at her but, that wasn't exactly something he could say.

"Then you can always ask."

"And you promise you wont lie to me?"

"I promise."

"Promise promise?"

"Yes!"

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before nodding her head. Turning back to the piano, her hands found their place on the keys once again. She hesitated.

"I..." Y/n shot Lucifer a look over her shoulder, "Thank you."

"Thank you. There is some solace in knowing someone else out there feels the same way I do, if for different reasons."

"Yeah. There is, isn't there? Maybe part of our deal can be helping each other figure that all out too."

The suggestion had been half thought out. Y/n hadn't really meant to give it a voice, it had escaped her locked lips. She quickly turned back to the piano.

"Sorry. That was dumb."

"What did we just say about sorries!" Lucifer exclaimed, "No apologizing for existing. I think that suggestion sounds rather nice."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay. I... I'm actually going to play now. Is that okay?"

With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer reappeared in the seat he had previously inhabited. He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knee.

"Whenever your ready."

----

Song is Perfect Doesn't Last by Beth Crowley as requested :)

[cybertronian-reader-imagines]

How about someone who was recently turned into a Cybertronian and Team Prime tended to and comforted them? They have a lot of adjusting to do! 👀

TW: A bit of implied disassociation because, holy shit, suddenly you're a giant metal robot and that's kinda hard to wrap your newly non-organic brain around.

((Knock Out is here because there is not enough Autobot!Knock Out and I love him.))

Team Prime comforting Reader, who just got turned into a Cybertronian, would include...

Optimus reassures you from the first moment that you have a safe home with Team Prime, should you choose to stay with them. Of course, you do. He makes sure you have the time and space to adjust and be comfortable with your new body before jumping into anything. He's just there if you need him, which some days is more helpful than everyone's else's efforts to offer unsolicited advice right off the bat.

Bumblebee helps you adjust to having wheels by challenging you to races that double as training whenever possible. He is almost certainly going easy on you, but nobody ever tells you as much.

Bulkhead is the first to realize that maybe you just really need a damn hug right now, if only because he's not very good with words. He hugs you and reassured you that it will be okay, and you're amazed how warm and fuzzy you feel afterwards, even though you're fairly sure your new body doesn't actually feel such minute temperature changes.

Ratchet tries to be "comforting" by explaining how your new body works... in detail that goes way, WAY over your head. But eventually, you get him talking about Cybertron's history and culture, and realize that your two species aren't all that different after all, which helps more than an anatomy lesson ever could.

Smokescreen is quick to remind you that you don't have to go back to your boring human school/job/house/whatever. Depending on how much you liked/disliked your old life, this is either incredibly helpful or incredibly irritating. If you get upset with him though, he's quick to apologize, and it's hard not to be comforted by that well-meaning smile and a servo patting your shoulder.

Arcee might somehow be even more protective of you than she is of the humans - she knows what happens when bots overestimate how much they can handle, and she figures that's really easy to do when you go from being a tiny, fragile human to a giant robot. Sometimes it's hard to hear her remind you that you're still mortal, but she means well. "Okay Mom, I get it."

Wheeljack, like Bulkhead, isn't very good with words, but he's also not very good with affection. What he can do, however, is listen. He's there the first time you get frustrated with the rest of the Team - not because they truly did anything wrong, but because being cramped into a tiny base with people you've just met will irritate anyone - and he never breathes a word of what you vented to the others. The Wreckers had their spats too - he knows you'll all be cool at the end of the day.

Oh Primus help Ultra Magnus he doesn't have a comforting servo in his body, but at least he's honest about that. In fact, he's the best bot to go to when you're ready to have things less sugarcoated.

Knock Out doesn't understand what the fuss is about - why would anyone ever want to be a squishy, gross organic when they could be Cybertronian? Humans couldn't turn into cars, for one, and couldn't be polished. He gives you a fresh coat of paint and polish and tells you how much better you look now - it does help, in a way. Being able to pick out new paint makes you feel a little more like your new body is really your body.

But honestly? Your biggest comfort might just be Jack, Miko, and Raf, if only because they will remind you any time you so much as frown just how cool being a giant robot is. And then you remember, yeah, it is pretty cool, actually.

[merakiui]

boyfriend.

yandere!female!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied (cyber)stalking, cheating, dub-con, alcohol/intoxication, characters written as 18+ note - riddle seeks to prune the filthy weeds from your life, starting with your ill-mannered boyfriend. // inspired by dove cameron's boyfriend.

i. i can’t believe we’re finally alone. i can’t believe i almost went home. what are the chances? everyone’s dancing, and he’s not with you.

Riddle has never traveled to this part of the city before—the seedy, unsavory sliver overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, illicit, perilous secrets tucked away in every alley. It’s not as if she’s here under duress. Although if you were to frame it from her perspective, it would feel less like an active, consensual choice and more of a you’ve-forced-my-hand choice. It’s blatant rule-breaking all the same, a stain on her delicate character. Blight on her shiny social status as a golden child, forever marked as the obedient one.

She’s lived her rebellious streak, was punished swiftly and accordingly, and strived to be better in the aftermath. It was one thing to slip out during independent study, and that fun had been trampled upon by a cruel, heeled foot. That was a child’s error. A lesson learned. A valid reason to sever all distractions and improve academically, consequently maturing with sharp, sparkling intelligence and abysmal social skills. 

But Riddle is no longer that starry-eyed, impressionable child, and she does not make the same mistake twice.

Or so she’s always believed, but she’s willing to risk an unforgiving tongue-lashing and life imprisonment at the hands of her mother if it means she can fix things. No matter how she spins it, the truth remains the same: She’s fallen back on an old habit, sneaking out and keeping secrets. She’s an open book to Trey, though, who she’d taken care to message on the train ride into the city, her text mostly cryptic: Should anything happen, this is where I’ll be. It’s wrong to skirt around the truth, especially when it’s your closest friend. She knows this, but then she also knows Trey gives terribly good advice. The type of terribly good advice you often don’t want to hear.

Advice like: “You need to let her go.”

And Riddle can’t—won’t. 

So she steps into the digital footprints left by that brash, brutish party animal you lovingly call your boyfriend, and she follows the string of social media posts like a diligent detective, flicking through each with manicured fingernails. She commits them to memory so that they remain imprinted in her mind before they’ll eventually expire at the twenty-four hour mark.

In the days leading up to tonight, Cater had taken her out for their usual self-care makeover day, which was really just a day dedicated to dressing up and gossiping at the salon. It was a monthly arrangement, and it kept the both of them entertained and sane. The latter of those two was called into question when Riddle, wholly out of character, selected black nail polish for her mani-pedi, which left Cater looking on with brewing curiosity. She gazed at him, pouty lips upturned slyly, and said, “I thought I’d give red a temporary break.”

“Oh, but red is so your color!” he insisted, raising his phone to capture both of them in frame. 

Riddle smiled at the camera. “I know.”

It has always been her color, a staple in her closet. It’s a favorite she can never truly shake, hence why it stains her lips instead. Bright like arterial blood, a blossoming carnation, it stands out starkly on her pale countenance—the only splotch of color on her person. Cater took her shopping when he’d learned she was attempting to fit a new style into her wardrobe of prim, modest clothes. They ran up and down the racks, grinning at each other from across the store and holding up sweaters and skirts, weighing whether either would suit Riddle’s night out. In the end, she settled for the outfit she wears now: a red tube top, a cropped puffer jacket, a pencil skirt that doesn’t pass the fingertip test (not that she cares to follow that rule), tights, and knee-high heeled boots. To finish the look, she’s pulled her hair from its usual plaits, allowing it to cascade down her back like a crimson waterfall. Fingerless lace gloves adorn her hands, stitched with intricate patterns of roses and thorns.

Cater called it the Femme Fatale Friday fit. It’s a Saturday night, but it feels like Friday when she peers at her reflection in a pocket mirror, checking her makeup once more. 

She will not make the same mistake twice. She’s a paragon of perfection—Riddle Rosehearts, for seven’s sake! 

Stuffing the mirror into a matching handbag, she eyes the skyscraper looming before her, sleek with its metal framework and industrial glass. The bright cityscape reflects off of each window, dazzling with luminous specks of light. She considers the contents in her purse, reviews each with a critical eye, and inhales a steadying breath. 

This is necessary.

She’s an adult now, nearly finished with her graduate studies. She lives on her own in a quaint, pet-friendly apartment with her hedgehog, and she works part-time at the café down the street, putting forth her best effort as she weathers the woes of university. Despite all of this independence, she doesn’t feel like an adult. 

Not when she can hear her mother in the back of her head: You look ridiculous. Come home right now before you make a fool of yourself and sully my good name.

Riddle scowls at the concrete, curling her fingers into fists. 

She’s an adult now. She is not her mother’s doll.

Leaving all hostility and self-doubt at the door, she steps through the lobby and beelines for the lift. It carries her to her destination—one of the highest floors. A penthouse suite. 

And not just any penthouse suite. Floyd Leech’s penthouse suite.

Under normal circumstances, she would never willingly set foot in his territory. She survived four years of school with him, which was already a sickening amount, and in that time she watched him glide through his undergraduate with just barely passing grades. That wasn’t enough to stoke the red-hot embers of envy, though. It only made him seem even more like a cockroach, unable to be crushed by the weight of scholarly responsibilities, for he never took anything seriously.

For that reason, Riddle has never envied Floyd. But by the end of their third year, he had something Riddle didn’t. 

He had you. 

How he managed to settle into a relationship when all he did was slack off, party, and break the rules was beyond Riddle. He was a slippery delinquent, hardly deserving of your sweet affections, and yet you looked at him like he was the only one on the planet. Just where was the appeal? His manner of dress is sloppy. The way he carries himself is unpalatable and crude. The way he acts suggests his insipience is incurable. Even when he applies himself, he is still Floyd and that doesn’t clean his slate or shine his reputation. So in Riddle’s discerning eyes, he does not possess a scintilla of romantic appeal.

You don’t seem to agree with these sentiments, for you’ve been with Floyd for four long years. 

Love is blinding, but Riddle has never been in love before and so she doesn’t have adequate data to prove this point. It was forbidden in her home. She’s only allowed to love the men her mother handpicks, plucking each specimen like they’re ripened strawberries from a bush. In the beginning she found all manner of minor details to excuse them from her life, insisting upon a nonexistent list of impossibly high standards. He was too tall. He was too forward with his interest. He wore contrasting colors. He didn’t like tea. These reasons were far too critical and childish, and each man had been sent away in a huff. Her mother would scold her, halving her with a nasty glare: “Are you planning to die alone?”

Yes, Riddle realized by the twentieth admonishment, yet another man cast aside. If dying alone means romantic freedom in life, I’ll do just that.

The elevator spits her out into the hall, which isn’t as silent as she thought it’d be. Bass shakes through the walls, reverberating all the way through her ribs as if it intends to stir up her organs. She catches her reflection in the windows, noting the dark, monstrous scowl, and smooths her face into something courageous. She means business as she clicks down the hall, preparing herself for the whirlwind that undoubtedly waits behind the door. Riddle starts to wonder how Floyd’s neighbors have yet to file a noise complaint and then stops, her thoughts cutting off abruptly. It’s a challenge to make complaints when your father holds parts of the city’s underground in his palms.

He’s got it easy, that spoiled pest. 

Riddle’s gait slows to a halt and she reaches out to knock thrice. The door is thrown open before she can even bring her fist down. Soon she’s staring at a rosy-cheeked stranger, whose eyes trace her figure like he’s trying to paint her on his mental canvas. She’s prepared for the worst, having tucked the spray in her bag, its container disguised to look like lipstick. The strawberry keychain hanging from her purse is a self-defense alarm, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. His ogling does not frighten her, nor do his intentions, if he can even harbor any in that intoxicated brain of his. She’s braved scarier horrors. Like living out years of her life with her mother.

“Heyyy, you one of Floyd’s girls? Here for the party?”

Riddle suppresses the disgusted shiver threatening to crawl up her spine, swallowing bile. “Just the party.” 

She is no one’s girl. Definitely not Floyd’s. 

When she’s let inside and the stench of sweat and alcohol assault her nostrils, coupled with the too-loud party music, she considers retreating, her mother’s judgment echoing: You look ridiculous. Her fingers twitch towards her purse. One text and Trey would pick her up. One call and Cater would be on his way. But then she’d be forced to tell them the truth—would have to admit that she’s chasing the one person she can never have. 

She hardens her resolve, pushes through the throng of bodies in an effort to find refreshments, and there you are, her perfect, pretty wallflower in a perfect, pretty silver dress. The dim neon lighting casts you in a luscious pink haze, and she watches you scroll through your phone, your eyelids falling and opening. You’re so beautiful—the sweetest thing she’s ever seen, more saccharine than a truckload of strawberry tarts. Her hand slides away from her purse, and she tamps down a gleeful smile, stepping over to you with newfound confidence.

“(Name)?”

You turn your whole body towards her, your gaze unfocused. She can smell the liquor on you, can see the hickeys not quite covered by a velvet choker. Her gaze narrows. He’s all over you, isn’t he? From top to bottom, you are covered in traces of him. Her nose scrunches. Just what do you see in him?

It should be her teeth on your skin, tearing it open, bruising it, tasting slick copper on her tongue. It should have always been her, but it’s not. Why did you have to settle for less when you’re entitled to so much more?

You peer at her like she’s something in a museum, perplexing and abstract. And then it clicks. You gasp, your mouth falling open in awe, and your words come out horribly slurred. She fails to hide her wince when you throw your arms around her, hanging off of her like a tote on a shoulder.

“Riddle! You…seriously showed up… Can’t believe it’s really you. It feels like it’s been forever.” You pull away, swaying with the motion, and place your hands on her arms. “Your outfit is suuuper cute.”

She’s blushing. She knows she is because her face is burning with heat and suddenly it’s much too stifling in here. “Oh. Ah, um, t-thank you very much… You look very nice, too.”

Really? Is that the best thing I could say? ‘You look very nice’? Honestly, Riddle…

But you smile, and the sight steals her heart all over again. You can have it. By all means take her heart. Take it and love it to pieces. That way it will be fair when she takes yours. An even exchange in accordance with the rules of love. 

Or maybe it’s more so the rules of romantic warfare, carried out to the extreme on a chessboard. Or a croquet court. Something sporty and metaphorical, anyway.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, refusing to say his name lest she speak him into existence and tarnish her near-perfect evening.

Her question strikes a chord within you, and you heave an exaggerated sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the wall for support. “Left me to go hang with the guys. S’not fair!” you whine, sliding further down until you’re sitting in a defeated heap. 

Riddle bends down to your height, her tone as soft and sympathetic as her expression. “Does he always do this?”

Hurt flashes across your face, but you don’t say anything. So he does. Why is she not surprised?

Who in the world leaves their partner at a party, vulnerable and alone? Riddle thinks, anger flaring up in her chest. Someone could take advantage of you. You’re in no state to be standing here by yourself. That fool… He doesn’t know how to treat a lady at all. How have you put up with him for four years? Your patience amazes me.

“It’s not like…” You shut your eyes and rest your head against the wall. “Not like an always-happening thing…”

Riddle isn’t going to sugarcoat it. She wants her words to cut deep, all the way to the heart you’ve allowed Floyd to bind. “Whether or not he does it often, the fact still stands that he left you intoxicated in the corner of this room. That’s careless and unsafe.” She tilts her head, admiring the way you’ve done your makeup, the way your plush lips jut out in a miserable pout. And it just rushes out, words she’s thought but never had the courage to say. At least, not to the sober you. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Like me, she almost adds, but that’s too direct. And she’s not even sure the admission will land when you’re so out of it.

“Appreciate it…” You scrub your face, groaning. “Ugh. I feel sick…”

“Would you like to get some fresh air?” 

You shake your head, stubborn to a fault. “Can’t. Gotta wait for Floyd.”

Riddle frowns. “I highly doubt he’s coming back anytime soon.” 

“Still.”

“At the very least, let’s get you some water.” She offers her hand, hoping and praying to the heavens above that you’ll take it.

You do. It’s a flawless fit. Her heart flutters, weightless and feathery, when her fingers close around yours. She wonders what moisturizer you use, what sort of lotions kiss your skin. Are they scented, or is that just your perfume? Or have you done away with perfume for tonight and is that a natural fragrance? Or maybe it’s the sweet scent of a fruity wine, printed on your tongue like a delicious tattoo. 

She wants to kiss you. 

“Just how much have you had to drink?” 

“Like a cup or two? I…dunno. Does it matter?”

You stumble when she helps you up, grabbing at her shoulder for support. Riddle almost falls back, but the wall braces her. You place your palm right by her head, and suddenly you’re leaning in, inadvertently pinning her to the wall. Her pupils nearly eclipse her blue-grey irises, and her breath sticks in her throat. Oh, you’re so close. You’re a drunken mess, pushing yourself up against her, your beauty enveloping her like a chrysalis. If this is a dream, she never wants to wake, for the world that awaits her beyond this is cold and colorless. 

Your head lowers to the dip between shoulder and neck, and she gazes heavenward. The ceiling is much nicer at this moment, if only so she can clear her own heady haze of impure thoughts. 

There are people about, she has to remind herself, shaking off the urge to close her fingers around your chin and tilt your head up to meet her mouth. And she has a boyfriend. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.

But the chance is much too beguiling. You’re right here, quite literally within her reach, and Floyd’s nowhere in sight. It’s too perfect. She can’t quite wrap you in an affectionate embrace—though that is an irresistible urge she must fight off—so she settles to rub circles into your back instead, dutifully reflecting the role of a concerned friend. It’s not the part she wishes to play. Rather, she’d gladly take on the title of boyfriend if it meant you’d feel loved. Every day, at every hour, for the rest of your life. She’d do all the things Floyd ought to do: care for you, appreciate you, protect you, stay by your side through thick and thin. 

Love is a dangerous, thorny thing, but it’s the encroaching jealousy that kills. 

Floyd doesn’t deserve you. If anything, he deserves a mouth full of soap to scrub every profanity he’s ever uttered. Just what does he tell you in bed? That you’re a good girl? That you’re soooo tight? That you can take it? Does he know which ways you like it? Does he know where to touch so you’ll unravel faster? Does he know how to get you properly, thoroughly worked up, so much so that it feels like your skin is aflame with potent want and desire? 

Does he even know your anatomy, or are you simply a body for his avaricious appetite? 

Like roses twining possessively around a trellis, Riddle holds you close in her arms, her hand sweeping across your lower back. Her glacial eyes scan the crowd, warding off anyone who may be curious with her most malevolent death stare. 

“Mm… I need to lie down. My head is…spinning…”

With that, the murderous, overprotective haze sticking to Riddle like a poisonous fog dissipates. A sickly sweet smile widens on ruby-red lips. “Let’s find someplace quiet.”

Together, the two of you stagger-walk out of the room, leaving the party and its inhabitants behind. Crossing through the attached kitchenette, Riddle pilfers a bottled water from the fridge.

Her mind is sharp as a cut diamond. Her skin prickles with anticipation.

Down the hall you go, with Riddle supporting you with what minimal physical strength she has. A door looms before the both of you, cast in a comfortable glow from a neighboring skyscraper, and you struggle to pull your heels off while she pushes the door open. It reveals a messy room, clothing and candy wrappers strewn about sloppily. 

Riddle feels like she’s on top of the world, and she is. Up in the clouds on the forty-third floor of this luxurious penthouse apartment. 

ii. i could be a better boyfriend than him. i could do the shit that he never did. up all night, i won’t quit. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle pined. Hopelessly. Forlornly. Desperately.

Hungrily. 

It was unbecoming to want something to such an obsessive degree. She buried herself in her studies to do away with lustful delusions, each more distracting than the last. But then you would crop up in her life when she least expected it and soon the two of you were studying together. Soon you were visiting her dorm to watch movies during the times in which she allowed herself the break (and she only did so because it was you). Soon you were spending nights in her room, sleeping sprawled on the floor even though she offered her bed time and time again. You’d get ready in the mornings, debating what the breakfast menu would entail. She’d watch your reflection in the floor mirror as you pulled your shirt up and over your head, eyeing the way you slid seamlessly into a lacy black bra. And then she’d change out of her nightgown, and you’d comment on her undergarments. 

“We should go shopping sometime. You gotta get cuter stuff!”

“Why should I? No one’s going to see it,” she insisted with a flustered huff.

“I’ll see it the next time I sleep over,” you told her, smiling innocently as you stepped into a blue handkerchief skirt. “Besides, there are so many cute sets you could wear. You’d look so pretty in something red and frilly. You’re totally missing out.”

Riddle considered it back then. Your eager eyes had almost won her over, but she was firm in her decision. “I’m fine with what I have now.” 

And the conversation ended there. She really wishes you would have pushed it back then because just a little nudge in that direction and she would have given in, entirely at your mercy. 

Selfishly, she just yearned to be stuck in a changing stall with you. 

All throughout her undergraduate, Riddle fostered a special sort of friendship with you. You’d stop by her dorm during finals to insist she take a break, your offer too tempting. She’s always been weak to sweets. You were close enough to exchange intimate details with one another. She listened to all of your dating woes, and conversely you’d sit still and bear witness to her ramblings about fascinating law facts. Sometimes she’d rant about her mother. You always listened. “She sounds like she sucks,” you said once. “How are you even related to her? You’re so nice.”

It was a pleasant three years. If she deluded herself enough, she could have pretended you were her girlfriend and then she’d have something to tell her mother to put an end to the countless attempts at scoring her a husband. I will never marry any of your options, she would think, playing the confrontation out in her head. I have a partner now and we’re very happy together. Sometimes Riddle imagined her mother tossing darts at a board with photographs of men attached to it, disregarding compatibility altogether in favor of upholding traditional rules. But then Riddle realized she’d have to die before she could ever admit her own romantic freedoms to her mother, and so that conversation only ever came about in daydreams. 

I’d rather die alone than live life shackled in a loveless marriage. She wonders if her father thought the same.

Those three years had been a wonderful reality, filled with sugared, candy-coated love. A one-sided love, sure. But Riddle could settle for platonic affections, for that was just as sweet.

And then he arrived at the doorstep to Riddle’s fantasy cottage, kicking the walls down and sweeping you off your feet.

Floyd Leech has always been a nuisance. You were there to shoo him away every time he came knocking, all broad grins and vexatious jeers. He listened to you most days, a mutt without proper leashing, oddly loyal to you. As if you were his keeper of sorts. Riddle was amazed, befuddled, and worried all at once. Unlike her, you could keep your cool, could still smile so kindly even when Floyd was being an utter pain in the ass with his foolish nicknames. When he tried to pluck Riddle’s hairpin from out of her braids—a handmade gift you had given her for her birthday—she slapped him hard across the face and hissed, “Don’t ever put your filthy paws on me again.”

And maybe it was because you were there that she was able to recover shortly after the outburst. (Although she still meant that slap with every fiber of her being.) Maybe you were her collar. Maybe you were her keeper. Maybe she was meant to meet you so that you could color her world, lead her along into the friendship she’d been robbed of as a child. 

Looking back, Riddle realizes that was the catalyst. Because when Floyd cradled his bright-red cheek, giggling like a maniac, you asked him, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Can’t you bother someone else?”

And then you were made the prime target. 

What’s worse is that you reveled in it, adored every ounce of attention Floyd gave you like it was something holy, later admitting to Riddle during a movie marathon that you “wondered if Floyd was seeing anyone.” She wanted to retch. You, a seraph incarnate, with a devil like Floyd? Impossible. But your tone was so whimsical; you were dreaming of it. You liked him. 

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

By the end of her third year, just as finals gave way to summer, you threw your arms around Floyd’s neck while he pressed you up against the trunk of a flowering tree. Pink petals fluttered to the ground, and with the falling blossoms came Riddle’s hope, crashing and burning in a heartbroken heap. 

She won’t make the same mistake twice, which is precisely why, when you flop onto Floyd’s unmade bed, she turns the lock to keep all outside influences away. The party is but a mere muffle now, thrumming through the floorboards with reckless abandon.

Her nose wrinkles at the pile of dirty laundry. Slob, she thinks, brimming with hate. What does she see in you? You’re a mess, you’re definitely a criminal, you can’t keep a stable job, you throw obnoxious parties every other week, you leave your own girlfriend unattended… What part of that is appealing? She gazes at you next. You’re too good for him, (Name). You can do so much better. Raise your standards. Find someone respectable and attentive. Someone who’ll stay with you forever. Someone who won’t let you get stupidly drunk and then run off to Queen-knows-where.

“Someone like me,” she mutters.

You have to be coerced into drinking, and you’re so sleepy that the water dribbles down your chin. Riddle tuts at you, swiping the liquid away with her sleeve. 

“You’re a mess,” she says, affectionate despite the barb. 

You’re my mess.

She slides your heels off, casting them elsewhere. You look like a starfish when you lay sprawled, or maybe you’re more like a snow angel. Only rather than snow, you imprint yourself amongst wrinkled sheets. Riddle knows it’s wrong, but you’re right here. She’s waited so many years for a moment like this one.

It’s not fair. 

She unzips her boots, kicks them off, and stands at the edge of the bed, locked in a fierce debate. You should have thrown your arms around her that day. You should have kissed her, should have spent the last four years with her, should have stayed in her life like the permanent fixture you were destined to be. She’s never wanted anything more than this. Not even a surplus of strawberry tarts. Not even the dreams she’s working tirelessly towards achieving. She’s only ever wanted you. 

But Floyd took you away, and her world has never been the same since. 

The mattress dips under her weight; she’s made up her mind. 

“Do you remember the promise we made?” she whispers, running her hands up your legs. You lift your head to look at her, eyes glassy with inebriated exhaustion. “The one in which we’d live together after graduation? You said you’d want to live somewhere pet-friendly so we could get hedgehogs and name them Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

You hum, your lashes fluttering. 

“We could still do that. Just you and me. Without your boyfriend.”

“What?”

Her fingers catch on the waistband of your panties. “Hm?” 

“Mm, no, nothing… You should get going. It’s late…” “Someone has to look after you.”

“Floyd can.”

She presses her thumbs into your hips and the tiniest gasp leaves your parted lips. “But Floyd’s not.”

“He will.”

“He won’t,” she snaps. Something flickers in your eyes, a flash of unrest. Riddle chews her lower lip. “He’s… (Name), what do you see in him? Honestly, truly, what is it? Please educate me. Please… What does he have that I don’t? What makes you stay?”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend,” you mutter slowly, perplexed, “and I love him.”

“Do you?” 

“Riddle, why are you so…” The words fizzle out on your tongue when her touch strays too close to home. “Wait… We can’t… Not in here.”

“Why not? It’s just one more mess. He won’t even notice.”

“That’s not it… Riddle, wait. I… I don’t like you in that—”

She collapses, anchoring herself to you, her manicured nails digging deep into your arms. And then her mouth is on yours, clumsy and uncoordinated. She doesn’t want to hear it—can’t bear to hear it. She knows the truth. It’s haunted her from the day she met you, a shadow looming like a guillotine’s blade. You were fated to be forever out of reach. Just like those strawberry tarts in the bakery window. The kiss is filthy, all desire and zero skill. Her tongue flashes into your mouth. It’s nothing like the way they describe it in fiction or portray it in films. It’s obscene. Sinful. Libidinous. Her lipstick smears; she tastes the wine in your throat, licks your teeth and nibbles your lip, delicate and gruesome all at once. She tries her best, unyielding. 

The technique doesn’t matter. Not now, anyway. It’s just blind, unrequited passion. She’ll learn it eventually and when she does she’ll kiss you drunk. It’s just another thing she’ll master. And she will because that’s just who she is. Give her a textbook and she’ll have it memorized. Give her a kiss and she’ll return to practice it to perfection. 

She pulls away, panting, her lipstick in disarray. It’s all over you, smudging on the corners of your mouth. Running a hand through her hair, her figure outlined in the tantalizing glow from the city lights, she licks her lips. 

“Riddle…” 

Spoken soft like prayer, it’s a whisper she’ll treasure. Over and over, without end, repeat it like a mantra. 

“Riddle, please…”

“He doesn’t know anything about your preferences, does he?” Your dress is slid up next. She traces a heart into your bare stomach, capturing your navel in invisible lines. You shudder under her touch, grabbing at her wrist with a limp hand. She brings it up to her lips and presses a chaste kiss to the top of it. “I know you much better than he does. I always have.”

To prove it, she presses two fingers to your clothed pussy. You whine, reedy and high-pitched. “But…”

“I read it takes fourteen minutes for women to reach their end during partnered sex.” She levels you with a half-lidded stare, smirking. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in raw confidence. “I’ll only need less than that, so you won’t have to feign anything for my sake. I know you well enough, my rose.”

A wide range of emotions waltzes across your countenance. Your arm falls over your face next. It’s defeat or hesitant acceptance, but to Riddle it’s love. 

“Ten minutes,” you whisper, conceding. “And then…you need to leave.”

She makes you cum in just five, covers you in lipstick prints, each kiss a sly cover-up. Floyd may be all over you, bites and bruises blooming new and old, but he’s not inside you, wringing you out like a sodden towel. You sob like you’re in heat when she sinks her fingers into your slick warmth, scissoring so slowly, until you’re begging her to make you cum again. Your fluids soak through the sheets. The scent of sex and sweat hangs heavy in the air. She’s alive, wildly untamed, a knight who’s just rescued the princess and slayed a bloodthirsty dragon. 

Her head is between your thighs next, her hands braced on either leg to keep them apart. You watch her with glazed eyes, soon throwing your head back when she slides your hood up to reveal your pretty, pert clit. Experimentally, she licks a teasing stripe up your slit. You shiver and dig your fingers into her scalp, imprisoning her there. It’s where she’s always wanted to be. 

“Tell me,” she murmurs, the words fanning across your pussy, “if he’s so good, why haven’t you proven it? Is this the most you’ve ever cum in a night? Does he please you or do you please him? If he’s everything you’ve ever wanted, why are you still so unsatisfied?” 

“Because… B-Because!”

Your protests are fragmented and spotted with gasps. That’s arguably more telling than a detailed response. 

Riddle smiles like a Cheshire, her eyes narrowed victoriously. Spidery digits creep along your thighs. Her thumbs dip into your pussy, spreading it wide for her viewing pleasure. “Don’t think of him. Tonight, it’s just you and me. I’ll give you what you’re owed. That and so much more.”

Like a fragile statue, you topple. Right into her, bucking against her mouth like the world is ending, and she’s there to steady you.

She always is.

iii. i’m gonna steal you from him. i could be such a gentleman. plus, you know my clothes would fit.

“Sooo… Gimme the goss. How was your night out?”

Riddle looks up from an assortment of nail polish colors, each one more red than the last, and says, “It was more enjoyable than I thought.”

“Yeah?” Cater prompts, brows raised. “Don’t be so vague! I wanna know all the juicy details. It’s rare for you to stay out so late. And to go to a party, of all things, in the city? Hello?! New Riddle, who’s this?” 

“I was only meeting an old friend.”

“That’s what they all say.”

The technician asks her to pick a color. “This one,” she says, pointing. “The one named Sanguine Sunrise.” 

“You’re totes keeping me in the dark!” Cater whines, dramatic. “At least give Cay-Cay some hints! Something! Anything! Spare change, please?”

Riddle smiles smugly. Pride drips from every syllable when she speaks next. “My friend will be spending this Valentine’s Day alone.”

“Bummer.”

“Not quite. She’ll have me and half-priced chocolates. A rather charming combination, no?”

Cater laughs. “GL. I’m rooting for you.”

You don’t need to, she thinks, tracing the love bite stamped into her skin, hidden under the soft fabric of her blouse. Because I’m already winning.

Her phone buzzes with a text: about last night… if i did anything weird, i’m so sorry. i was way too drunk. 

Riddle turns it over, dips her feet in the heated water, and settles into the massage chair, pleased as a peach. “It was one bad decision. Four years of bad decisions, but it’s forgiven. We all make silly mistakes when we’re lovestruck. Hopefully her silly mistake disappears for good and we never have to speak of him again.”

“You’re so scary, Riddle. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Another message arrives: i think we might’ve kissed last night. i’m really super sorry.

There’s a brief delay.

ok this is gonna sound weird coming from me but maybe we can do it again??? floyd’s kisses are sorta… :/ 

Her phone vibrates for the final time that afternoon.

actually i’m just gonna stop talking omg i’m crazy. i have a bf and everything. sorry riddle please ignore all of this kk tysm ttyl <3

wait one more text before i forget,, if you wanna meet up for tea i wouldn’t mind. we should definitely catch up when i’m not hungover. kk bye fr this time <3

A start is a start. You can’t grow a rose tree without first planting a seed.

[shootingstarwritings]

A Beta makes, an Alpha takes

TW: homophobic slurs

Eduardo Garcia was a content creator who, like many others in his field, lived in the SolCal area. He was a self-described ladies man and an amateur pick-up artist. Most of his videos and livestreams focused on giving life advice for men. That night was the same as it always was, with Ed saying his catchphrase, “A beta makes, an alpha takes,” to his impressionable audience.

Once the stream ended and he counted his donations, Ed made his way to the bar. It didn’t take long for him to find another girl to screw. His type was always the same: eager young women new to town and looking for something deep and steady.

After a long and sensual session, the girl whose name he forgot asked if what Ed wanted for breakfast that morning. She had wanted to cuddle, but Ed’s protests kept her at bay. Ed pretended to think for a while before saying, “I’ll treat ya. It’ll be a surprise,” before kissing her.

Around five the following morning, Ed snuck out of her apartment having lost zero winks of sleep that night. ‘Not my fault there’s so many suckers in this town,’ he thought to himself, grinning the whole way back to his apartment. ‘They wouldn’t fall for fellas like me if they had a lick of common sense. I just do what I do. If they don’t wise up then it’s on them.’

That morning should’ve been like all the other ones for Ed. He was in a fantastic mood to grab a quick bite and then spend some time in the gym after scoring as hard as he did the night before. However, just as he reached the floor his apartment was on, he caught sight of his neighbor standing unusually still.

Carlos was exactly everything that Ed hated about the SolCal area. They were in the same field as influencers, but Carlos focused more on “Affirmations of the self,” and “Queer rights,” and other stuff Ed had long-since forgotten about. Carlos had gone to great detail to explain, but Ed had mostly tuned out whatever didn’t relate to Carlos’ follower count or the cash he was making. Knowing the two would never get along, Ed preferred to avoid Carlos altogether, even if he did secretly wish the two would collab so that Ed’s follower count would grow.

Yet, on that morning, Ed couldn’t take his eyes off of Carlos. He stood in front of his apartment door, staring blankly ahead. A few moments passed, but the man didn’t even blink. Ed knew he should just leave him along and mind his own business, but a nosy part of him urged him forward.

“Hey man,” Ed called out, “You okay? You’ve been standing there for like an hour or something.”

Carlos’ head immediately snapped towards the direction of Ed’s voice, causing the latter to nearly jump out of his skin. “I was unable to court another female,” said Carlos in a stilted, unnatural tone. “I was reviewing what I did wrong. Forgive the intrusion.”

‘Court another female. So the fag’s trying to get with chicks, now?’ thought Ed before being struck by a genius business idea. “Good on ya, man!” Any prior concerns about Carlos’ odd behavior were discarded to the wind as Ed wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “Good to see ya swinging for the right team. ‘bout time you dropped all that fag shit,” he said, pointing a thumb to the pride flag hanging on Carlos’ door.

“Fag shit…?” echoed Carlos, but he didn’t offer any resistance as he was guided to Ed’s apartment.

“You came to the right place, my friend. Nobody knows how to pick up the ladies quite like this lady-killer.”

“You kill them?”

“Ha-ha! Aw, ya crack me up, big guy. C’mon, I’ll give ya a few pointers.” For Ed, giving Carlos several of his lessons and even showing him the streaming setup was an investment. He was gaining much money from doing this, but all he needed was to win Carlos’ trust over and he’d be swimming in new subs and a brand new market to sell. There just had to be guys who played for both teams on Carlos’ faggy audience, he assured himself.

After about half an hour of coaching, Carlos repeated Ed’s lessons like a college student cramming for a final. “A beta makes, an alpha takes.” For whatever reason Carlos seemed particularly fond of that phrase.

“We’re the men. The providers! That’s why we gotta remind this pussified society who’s really in charge. The alphas,” said Ed, flexing his bicep to punctuate his point. His body was one of the few things he had worked honestly for. Steroids and diets were a frequent topics in his online rants. To Ed, if one couldn’t get a body like his naturally, then they couldn’t call themselves a real man.

“And this has worked to acquire mates?”

“Mates? Bro, I’m swimming in pussy. And soon you will too,” said Ed. He lightly tapped Carlos’ chest. “With a bod like this? It’ll be even easier. Stick with me and I’ll get you laid. Just, uh, don’t forget ‘bout that collab I mentioned.”

Carlos, after what seemed like an eternity of stone-cold stoicism, finally cracked a smile. “Yes, I would love to collaborate with you.”

“Awesome! Lemme get something to celebrate.” It was still early in the morning, but it was always five o’clock somewhere, right? Ed made hi way over to his fridge and pulled some of the quality beer. The cheap stuff was reserved for those rare moments he had a girl over. “We gotta celebrate this new friendship of ours, my man. I got--!”

Carlos tackled Ed as he walked back to the living room. The two crashed onto one of his couches in a mess of struggling limbs. “Yo, what the fuck, man?!” cried Ed. He tried to push Carlos off, but froze as he saw Carlos’ body convulsing and his eyes rolling up, showing the whites. Seizure? Stroke?

Before Ed could reach for his phone in his pocket, Carlos leaned forward and locked lips with him. As soon as the two made contact, a slimy creature flowed from Carlos’ mouth into Ed. Once the substance made contact with Ed, his body began unresponsive. He tried to struggle and push Carlos off of him, but his arms remained heavy and limp. More and more of the slime pumped into Ed until Carlos’ body, unconscious yet still convulsing rolled off of the couch.

Ed couldn’t move but he could still feel a chilling sensation spread throughout his body, filling him up. The slime crawled down his throat and began to expand inside of him. Most of it traveled down his esophagus and began to assimilate his core, arms, legs, and toes. Each limb seized and shook as it became corrupted by the invader.

Ed tried to scream as it fell the creature fill his head and coating his brain, yet he could do nothing but endure the sickening yet pleasurable feeling. It was filling him up, and for whatever reason, Ed couldn’t help but enjoy the way the creature dominated him. His body, still unresponsive to his pleas for help, merely humped the air and sensually moan as it was taken over.

Eventually, Ed blacked out. The last thing he perceived was his hands touching his face and his own laughter.

~~~

‘Please, give me my body back,’ whined Ed.

“Give it a rest, Ed,” the creature possessing Ed said, grinning to himself. “Thank you for providing this impressive specimen, by the way. I quite enjoyed the takeover.” He tilted his head as he read the magazine. “Hmm, you are well-endowed, indeed. Perfect for my mission.”

A few days had passed since the creature slithered into Ed’s body. Ed had woken up to see his body piloted by some kind of foreign invader. Despite Ed’s pleads, it refused to give up control, saying, “I’ve been needing a strong and virile specimen to breed and spread.”

‘You can’t fucking do this to me! It’s not right,’ Ed begged from the recesses of his own mind. ‘I’m a human being. I don’t deserve this!’

“Your mind is intact, is that not enough for you?” the creature said as he jerked Ed’s cock in the couch. “You could have ended up like my previous experiment. Right, Carlos?”

“Right you are, my alpha,” said the thing inside of Carlos. Ed tried to look away from Carlos’ naked and puppeted body, but the creature didn’t have the decency to give him that.

Carlos was not the creature’s first victim, but it was the first that didn’t suffer massive brain damage from the creature’s invasive efforts. However, the creature still hadn’t quite managed to access Carlos’ memories and personality. It had managed to figure out the basics and just needed one more attempt to do a proper possession. Ed was the creature’s first success, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“What else do you wish, my master?” said Carlos as he eagerly marched over to Ed, swaying his hips and sticking his ass out as he spoke. “Do you want to breed me once more? Fill me up with more of your spawn so I may go and spread?”

While Carlos hadn’t suffered brain damage, but the trauma of the invasion caused him to become catatonic. To remedy this, Carlos was the first one to received the creature’s spawn. The creature, riding high thanks to Ed’s disgust at the homosexual act, fucked Carlos’ body and let one of its children pilot the still-living husk.

“Please, act a bit more like your host would. Keep reviewing the videos.” Ed mentally screamed to himself as his invader forced him to say that. Even if the creatures had little idea as to how to blend in society, the sheer amount of content that Carlos and he made would guarantee that they had plenty of references for impersonating them. “Later, I’ll pump you full. I just… need to explore this body of mine a bit more.”

Carlos cleared his throat before giving a sweet, nonchalant smile. “No prob, my man. Later we should go out, though. Get familiar with the area.” He winked and said, “Later,” just as Carlos always did.

‘Please, let me go,’ Ed tried once more. The idea of the creature doing this to his friends and family, acting like him the whole time, was a hell he couldn’t bear. ‘I-I’ll even hook you up with another better. Better bodies, just please let me go…’ Ed internally sobbed.

“You’re quite pathetic,” the creature sneered as it violated Ed’s body once more. “Where’s your bravado, Eddie~? You were swimming in pussy just a few days ago. Now you’re pounding men and craving cock.” Ed’s body let out a malicious laugh as ropes of cum erupted from his stolen dick. “It’s like you always said. A beta makes, an alpha takes.”

[9amartt]

I tasted hope…

I tasted trust in Allah’s decree and i’ve never been more accepting of myself and everything that happens in my environment.

Alhamdulillah.

Being what they call ‘delusional’ is indeed the key to a happy life.

Be delusional about Allah’s decree, He split the sea for Musa, saved Yusuf from the belly of a whale, and split the moon for Muhammad. He created you! Isn’t that enough of a miracle?

Allah created you and He is the disposer of every single one of your affairs.

We will all die, wether we suffer or not, wether we sacrifice or not, wether we give up on our desires or not, wether we exhaust our weak bodies and minds or not, wether we spend this life wailing or laughing. It all ends in death. And one step in Jannah makes you forget years of pain, meanwhile one step in Jahannam makes you forget all the pleasures of this world.

So be akhira-minded. Hopeful in Allah’s decree.

Know that this dunyah is but an hour compared to the akhirah, it really is not worth despairing for.

Sit in loneliness with your lord often, think about your decisions, regret your past sins, trust that Allah is forgiving but not forgetful. Seek His forgiveness.

Before taking any steps, dispose all the burden of your worries on Him, make dua, cry between His hands, spend the night He has blessed you with in worship. Cry.

Really, cry. Let out all the pains you stored during the day.

Smile upon hardship. Say as they say: ‘Allah is my Lord and disposed of Affairs’, say it with your heart. And mean it.

Stand up now. Compete with your nafs and shaytan, be competitive and do not let them win over you. For the reward is worth the struggle and more.

Let the future for its creator, regret the past but don’t let your regret cause you to hate yourself or destroy your present, rather, let it be a lesson for you. Live your present.

And this is my heartfelt advice to you.

A dear friend of mine, who got out of the loop of depression and despair before us, sent me once a beautiful text she had written about hope In Allah. I told her jokingly: ‘it’s funny how this is coming from the most suicidal person I know’ she said: ‘Allah granted me tawfiq in becoming human again’

Human.

What makes us human is our relationship with Allah.

So come back to being Human. Come join the caravan of hopeful believers. Come join the saving ark. The ark of Allah.

Come join our ranks, let’s reinforce each other, this path is a lonely one, so let’s be each other’s assistance.

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 act ii spoilers⚠️

caitlyn was actually the perfect and best person to become commander, hear me out

caitlyn is the most tactically intelligent character in arcane, perhaps only second to ambessa herself (and we saw her train with her and immediately take a piece of her advice by fighting dirty [foreshadowing] before double crossing her in the same episode, and just before that tackling vi, a much stronger fighter in short range, by using the same exact moves she learnt from ambessa!) and we've been seeing her strategic, problem solving and information gathering skills since s1, she's a mastermind who's only remained overlooked bcuz she's not evil, argue with the wall

who else could've been eligible to become commander? ambessa had to basically appoint someone who wasn't incapable and made sense in the eyes of the community (like a counselor's daughter and a decorated officer) so it looked legitimate, but still somebody she could control if need be (like someone who'd just lost her mother, had her statue ceremony ruined, and lost her contact to a zaunite she was close w/ who taught her all she knew about zaun, and was now seeking revenge)

but ambessa miscalculated. caitlyn is also the best person to be in this position (for zaunites) because she's lawful, merciful and compassionate - things ambessa doesn't seem to be able to be to non family members - so caitlyn can counteract her and keep her from going rogue to the best of her abilities considering the circumstances. and bcuz caitlyn was so close w/ vi despite their fallout and cait's preexisting and not fully tackled bigotry, she's seen zaunites eye to eye and knows enough abt life in the undercity to hold the unpopular opinion that "there are good people down there"

in fact, caitlyn came into this with three very clear objectives: kill jinx, catch any silco loyalists and dismantle shimmer - all aimed at causing the least possible harm and the most benefit to the average zaunite, esp if they're cooperating or at least minding their business (and i agree there shouldn't be "conditions" you have to meet as a zaunite in order not to suffer police violence, esp when the oppressor piltover writes the laws and can change those conditions at will, but let's remember caitlyn isn't the system itself: she has to work within the legal framework she was born and raised into that she's not exactly able to change for a multitude of reasons, and she even uses that system to her advantage because it might not be good but it's better than nothing, when she confronts ambessa abt there being no legal reason or procedure for her right hand man to attack/detain a random jinxer who hadn't given him reason to).

caitlyn didn't aim to scare zaunites into submission by perpetuating violence, "give them a lesson", "teach them who's boss", she wasn't even aiming to divide zaun's factions further (until they started uniting against piltover and she wasn't left with much of a choice with ambessa breathing down her extremely high vampire cape collar), neither did she aim to eradicate the undercity or its corresponding identity (which i believe are all things ambessa is aiming for), but things spiraled out of control unexpectedly due to momentarily getting this close to catching jinx and then having a fall out w/ vi, followed by the undercity's growing resistance

had it been anyone but caitlyn, i argue it would've been so much worse for zaun from the start

[atinystaypixie]

Mr. Baker Man

Summary: Your next door neighbor is the local baker. He's so sweet to offer you baking lessons. How did you get so lucky to have such an amazingly sweet and handsome neighbor?

WC: 3.7k+

CW: 18+ MDNI!!, Sex!, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Reader gets drugged but not for sex, Nanami Kento, (kinda not proofread)

Pixie's Spooktober

The last few months have been hectic. It seemed that everything and anything bad that could happen did. It started when you discovered your boyfriend of four years had been sleeping with your best friend. The man who told you he loved you every chance he got and seemed that he couldn't spend a moment away from you was found laying in your bed with the woman you trusted everything with. Your day at work was already terrible only to be greeted with the moans of your best friend and lover ringing through the apartment. The apartment that you shared with your now ex-boyfriend. They didn't even feel remorse when they got caught either. It lead to you fucking up your nails and hands before kicking them both out.

You didn't have time to wallow in heartache because the next day you had to get up early to head to your nightmare of a job. Day in and day out you spent attending your job in a haze. The days blending together. It went on like this for a couple of months, nothing but going from home to work and repeating it all over again the next day. It was like that, until it wasn’t.

Your boss's never ending attitude and rudeness greeted you before you even made it through the doors. He seemed to pick you for his target of abuse for the day and was on your ass. The whole day he had been nitpicking at you over every fine detail. Whenever you moved, he had something to comment on. Your head was hurting and if you heard one more insult the police would need to be called. His endless words pushed you too far resulting in you snapping at him and giving him a long awaited cursing out. It resulted in you being fired and him having a drink thrown in his face.

After leaving the building and making it back to your empty apartment, a note is left on your door. The rent is being raised. The bills were barely getting paid with both you and your ex-boyfriend paying them, but now you would be homeless especially since you were jobless now. A heavy sigh left your lips as you opened the door and kicked off your shoes. The shuffling of your feet filled the silence in the air as you entered your bedroom. You plop onto your bed with a huff. Today's events flowing through your head. It's weighing on your shoulders how you're losing everything. Life is taking a toll on you, you just need someone to talk to. An idea pops in your head to call your favorite aunt. She was always understanding and great at advice and was the last family you have left after your parents passed a few years ago. She was the one to listen to you rant and cry when you caught your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend together.

The phone dials and you wait for her to answer. It takes a minute and you expect her to pick up, but instead you are sent to voicemail. She usually never misses a chance to answer your call but it is late and she might be asleep at this hour. She lives in a different state so it is later where she is. You decide to let her rest and try her again in the morning. It was only you needing to release the struggles you have been feeling so if she is asleep there is no need to continuously call her phone. Another sigh escapes you and you decide to just turn in for the night. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but you eventually pass out due to exhaustion.

That sleep doesn’t last long however. Your ringtone pulls you awake from the restless dreamland you were in. You look at the clock and see it's too early for someone to be calling you. The ringing of your phone is blaring and making you squint from not being adjusted to being awake yet. Looking at the screen, you see the number is unfamiliar. With a groggy voice, you answer the unknown number expecting to be able to tell them they have the wrong number so they wouldn’t call again.

“Hello? I think-”

“Is this Y/n?” A voice speaks, stopping you from completing your sentence. It confuses you that they know your name considering the voice isn’t recognizable.

“That’s me.” Confusion is clear in your tone.

“Yes, hello. We have the phone of a patient here and you are the last contact that dialed. I am sorry to inform you, but the patient we have here is deceased.” A shaky gasps leaves you as you hope they aren’t talking about who you think they are. The last person you called was your aunt, no one else. After cutting ties with your boyfriend and best friend, no other calls were made on your phone. You ask the person on the phone to describe who they are speaking about. Your ears start to ring as they describe your beloved aunt in every detail. “--- Ma’am? Hello, ma’am? Are you there?” It didn’t register that their voice had faded into the background as your already shattered world crumbled into more pieces. All you knew was that your last source of peace was gone from this world.

Fast forward four months and here you are now. You moved into your aunt's house away from the state you lived in. She already had a will written and left everything to you in it. That woman was always prepared, even down to her unexpected death. The cause of death was linked to a health condition. She hadn't told you about it, but it caused her to crash her car while driving. They said they couldn't find her ID due to the excessive amount of debris.

The money you inherited helped you move here. It wasn't easy, but you adjusted to living in the lonely house. Quiet memories of the times you spent here with your aunt would walk the halls, but after the first month it got easier. Your neighbors were welcoming, and some even remembered you from your previous visits. There were a couple you had never seen before, but all were kind.

Just like the neighbor next door. He wasn’t living here the last time you visited, but you learned he ran a small bakery that was frequented by everyone. It was hard to believe he was a baker. His facial expressions and regular outfits were the total opposite of someone who ran such a warm, loving shop. When he spoke, it all made sense though. He was older than you and alway took his time when speaking to you. A man with much patience and attentiveness. You could call him anytime you needed help. Like when your water faucet broke, he had it fixed in an hour and even left you a basket of fresh biscuits.

To say you had lost everything, life had been better since you moved here. Even if it was under the circumstances of your aunt passing. The air was easier to breathe, your neighbors were absolute sweethearts, your job didn't work you to the bone and paid more. For once, in a long time, you didn't feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. And everyday, you get to go to the bakery and get a delicious snack before heading home.

"Hi, Nanami!" You joyfully greeted him as you do everyday, a normal part of your routine.

"Hello, Y/n." His deep voice and chiseled cheeks greeted you with a smile. "How was your day? Here for the usual?" Nanami Kento, a tall man with blonde hair. Unnaturally handsome and the best baker. His desserts weren't only sweet, but his visuals as well. Your heart fluttered each time you made eye contact with him.

"My day was good. Thank you for asking. How was yours?" Your hands fill with an assortment of pastries as you speak. Picking the ones you have been craving most for the day. Some sweet, some savory. "And yes, I can't skip getting my daily happiness." You place your items on the counter and grab a bottle of wine from the shelf.

Nanami continues the conversation with you as he starts ringing up your items. He neatly packs them in a bag as he goes. "I could alway teach you how to make a thing or two.” He kindly offers you.

The offer catches you off guard. Nanami was always gentle with you, but never had he openly invited you to do something with him. You were more cordial neighbors rather than close neighbors. A hello and small talks were often exchanged rather than in depth conversations. Sometimes only the nod of a head would be given. It was never anything involving the two of you spending time together.

A small smile forms on your lips, “You would do that? I would like that.”

"Great, let's meet here this weekend. I'll teach you how to make your favorite." He hands you your bag as you agree to your plans. You walk out the shop with excitement coursing through you. Although you and the handsome baker might not have had strong interactions before, he still found a way into your heart in these few months.

The trip back home is quick. His shop wouldn't take long to walk to from the neighborhood and you were in your car making the trip even shorter. You discard your shoes at the door and get comfortable. The television is on as you indulge in your sweets. You flip through the channels mindlessly until you get tired. Your eyes drift shut slowly pulling you into a satisfying sleep. The sleep makes you miss the news giving information that relates directly to the way your aunt passed.

You spend the rest of the week attending work. The week is busier than normal so you don't get to visit the bakery due to you working overtime. You're tired when you arrive home and usually head straight to sleep instead of going to visit the bakery. By the time the weekend comes, you had barely seen Nanami and were excited to be in his presence again. You pick a cute dress after spending time preparing. It wasn’t a date, but you still wanted to look cute in the presence of the man.

You decided to walk to the bakery since you didn’t have any other plans for the day. The short trip spent with you thinking about interacting with Nanami. The scent of pastries hit your nose before you even reach the shop. It was closer to closing time and the last few customers were leaving. You catch the door and enter. Nanami is cleaning off the counter when he looks up and sees you.

“You made it. I’m almost finished. Could you flip the sign to closed please.” His voice was calming and deep as he spoke. You do as he asks and walk up to the counter. He puts the cleaning supply away and leads you to the back where the kitchen is.

It didn't take long for him to get everything set up. He named all the ingredients to you and even gave you a cute chef's hat. His personality was shining through the longer he talked and it was cute to see. He was clearly passionate about baking and explained why certain ingredients were added before others.

"Do it like this. It's easier and better for the dough." He placed himself behind you. His breath hitting your ear, chest pressing to your back, and large hands clasping around yours to guide you. His body was warm. Too warm. It was taking over your mind as you felt his chest move as he helped press your hands to the dough.

Your heart starts beating faster the longer he stands behind you. A wet patch forming in your panties. He was so much bigger than you. It felt good being this close to a man again since you hadn't been near one after your breakup.

"Okay, now we can place it in the pan." His words break you from your thoughts. He grabs a pan and places the shaped dough in it. The tall man reaches for a knife and the size catches you off guard. It's wrapped in an interesting print protection. Nanami takes his time unraveling it.

"Why such a large knife?" You question curiously.

"I like this one. It feels better to use." He says casually and cuts a design into the dough. "Cutting it like this is how we get the design you always look at before you buy it." He states. You're surprised he noticed you did this. "This will take an hour to make."

Nanami places the large knife down and shows you the product of his skills. "Wow, you're really good. I would botch that." He gives a deep chuckle at your words as he wipes his hands off. He hands yours and does the same. Your eyes widen slightly.

"You know. You really have to stop looking at me like that." His voice dropped an octave and you make eye contact with him.

"W-what?"

"I see how you look at me. It's cute, really. Just makes me want to bend you over whenever you come in here." He eyes flicker to your lips as you take your bottom one between your teeth. You feel your face heating up at his close proximity again. The way he looms over you and runs his thumb over your knuckles.

"Please." A whimper leaves you and that's all it takes for him to grip your chin between and plant his lips on yours. His strong arm wraps around your waist before trailing his hand up your spine. It stops right at your zipper and starts to slowly drag it down. Kisses are trailed down your neck as he takes his time undressing you in the kitchen. He lifts you and places you on the counter, spreading your legs open for him to stand in between. His thumb rubs over your throbbing clit in circles. He eyes locks with your as your mouth falls open from his touch.

"I've barely touched you and you're dripping." You whine at his words and push your hips closer to his hand. He stops you with his other. "Take what I give you." He rubs up and down your slit, flicking your clit each time before he pushes two fingers inside of you. They make a come hither motion, rubbing your insides so well. Your eyes rolling back as you rock towards him as much as his strong grip allows you. His fingers slide in deeper and deeper rubbing at a spot that tickles your brain. Nanami watches you closely wanting to catch every gasp and moan from you.

"N-Nanami…mmmm…please. Feels so good." Your moans makes his pants tighten. His bulge grows the more your wetness coats his fingers. Your walls fluttering giving him the sign of you getting closer to your release. He leans in close to your ear again.

"You're only coming on my dick." He removes his fingers from your leaking hole and unzips his pants. His big. Length and girth. An airy laugh leaves him when he sees you eyeing his dick. He lifts his fingers that were just inside you to your lips.

"Open." You obey him immediately and take the digits in your mouth. Your tongue swirling around them tasting yourself. He pulls his digits out and strokes his dick with your spit lubing himself up before pressing his tip to your entrance. He didn't immediately enter you. He swipe his tip through your folds collecting your juices and circling your entrance. He did this a couple of times before you started whining for him again.

"Stop teasing me. Want you in me." It didn't take much more for you before he was thrusting into you. Filling you to the brim with every inch he had to offer. Your walls gripping onto him drawing a deep grunt out of the blonde haired man. He pulled your hips closer and started fucking into you.

Your nails caught his back scratching it as he hit deep inside of you. The stretch is much more than your ex ever gave you. He was hitting spots you didn't even know you had. Your moans were loud and long. Broken breaths accompanying them as you hid your face in his neck. Nanami didn't appreciate that.

"No, no. Let me hear you, pretty girl. Look at me when I'm fucking you." His hand gripped at your hair pulling your head back making you look at him. He wanted to hear everything. He wanted to know how good he was making you feel. The pretty girl who suddenly moved in next to him, the pretty girl who was always in his shop, the pretty girl who appreciated his pastries more than any of the neighbors.

"Nanami! Fuck! Nanami! Please! Please!" You didn't know what you were begging for. Your thoughts were only filled with him. How he was slipping in and out of you. The sounds your pussy made with each deep thrust. The sound of your bodies smacking together. He was undoubtedly the best dick you ever had and the drool sliding from the side of your lips was proof.

Nanami wipes a thumb across it, cleaning it up for you. "Such a messy thing. Fuck, you feel so good squeezing around me." Nanami balls tightened with each thrust. Your pussy so wet around him, milking him so well. The squelching sounds making him lose all control. His hips speeding up getting addicted to the warmth of your cunt. He leans in and takes your breasts in his hand. His tongue meeting your hard nipple, wetting it in his saliva. He feels you squeeze around him at that and keeps going. Seeing you in pleasure making his dick more sensitive in your walls.

You grip at his hair, threading your fingers through the strands. Your body shaking as you get closer to your intense orgasm. He's abusing your g-spot over and over. You can feel him in your stomach, your legs tingling from the pleasure. Nanami is relentless. His thumb meets your swollen clit again. Your voice is loud as you scream.

"Too much! Too much! I can't take it!" You're trying to move away from him. The constant licking and sucking on your nipples, the drag of his thumb on your clit, his dick pushing in and out your sensitive walls.

You can't even warn him before you're cumming. Your release coming in strong, making your eyes roll back. Your voice caught in your throat as your pussy pushes out your cum. You can feel your core tightening and untightening with each ragged breath you take. Your mind is blank as you can only feel pleasure. You tense up and then relax after some seconds.

It's then when you feel oversensitivity kicking in. Nanami hasn't stopped thrusting into you. You're pushing at his hips, not even able to speak. You're going to cum again. It's too soon. You can't take it.

"You can do it. You can give me another one. Just cum for me, pretty girl." Nanami was talking you through it. His voice trying to hold steady through his own moans and grunts. The fluttering of your walls bringing him closer to his own release. "Come on. Do it. Cum for me again."

You didn't think it was possible for this to happen. You've never cum this quickly again. Your pussy grips onto him as your release washes over you. His name leaving your lips like a chant. He fucks you through your second orgasm. Your body goes limp in his arms as you coat his dick in more of your cum.

Nanami works you through it, rubbing at your clit still helping you release all of your cum. He feels you relaxing again and pulls his dick out stroking it quickly. Your pussy enough to have him weak in the knees. With a grunt he is releasing on your cunt. The white substance spurting out covering you. His breathing heavy and head thrown back as he cums. "Fuccckkk!" His voice is raspy when he cums. It has your sensitive walls fluttering.

You both are spent. Chests heaving up and down from the intense orgasms you both just had. Nanami leans close to you again and leaves kisses on your lips. "You were so good." Just as he says this the timer on the oven dings. A smile returns to his lips. "Here. You like these." He hands you one of the candies you always eat from the shop. He really has remembered so much about you. Before he goes to the oven, he wets a towel and gently cleans you up. "I didn't expect to fuck you here tonight. But I'm not complaining." You giggle at his words, still tired and recovering from the intense fucking. Sit here and rest. I'll go take care of the bread."

Nanami leaves you his jacket to cover you up while he attends to the bread. You hear his footsteps walking away. They are echoing loudly. Too loudly. The sound almost giving you a headache. You're tired. Your body is lagging. You try speaking but the words don't come out. Something's wrong.

You go to stand up and stumble. You can't get your footing. It's not a post-sex struggle, this feels weird. Your vision is unfocused and you grip at the counter. You accidentally knock over a jar labeled flour. It shatters into pieces and you are about to attempt to apologize when you realize it wasn't flour spilled on the floor.

A collection of licenses are on the floor and among them a familiar face.

"Tsk, tsk. Now why did you have to go and do that?" You stumble to the floor. The license closer to your face now. The license of your aunt to be specific. You look at Nanami and see his expression harden. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. "Why didn't you just sit like I told you?"

That's the last thing you hear. The drugged candy taking over your system before you could say anything else.

✨

Thoughts of a Slutty Virgin ~ 🧚🏽‍♀️

I MADE IT! FIRST SPOOKTOBER FIC OUT!! YAAAY! Hope yall like this. I was nervous lol. HAPPY FRIDAY THE 13TH! MWAHHAHAHA

Pixie's Masterlist

Taglist: @444ghosty @un-lawliet @witchbybirth @tophamhat-kyo @nobianna

[adragonsfriend]

Yoda and the Story of Zhuangzi's wife

We've all heard Yoda's words about letting go in Revenge of the Sith,

"Careful you must be when sensing the future, Anakin. The fear of loss is a path to the dark side…Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them, do not. Miss them, do not. Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed, that is."

It's one of the phrases most often used to call Yoda unfeeling, cold, mean to Anakin, etcetera, and I would like to look at the same lesson presented in nearly the same circumstance, but one with does not have Anakin, and therefore everyone's feelings about Anakin, plastered all over it.

The story of Zhuangzi's wife is a taoist one which was brought up to me as a point of comparison by @tai-feng:

莊子妻死，惠子弔之，莊子則方箕踞鼓盆而歌。惠子曰：與人居長子，老身死，不哭亦足矣，又鼓盆而歌，不亦甚乎。 Zhuangzi's wife died. When Huizi (his friend) went to convey his condolences, he found Zhuangzi sitting with his legs sprawled out, pounding on a tub and singing. "You lived with her, she brought up your children and grew old," said Huizi. "It should be enough simply not to weep at her death. But pounding on a tub and singing—this is going too far, isn't it?" 莊子曰：不然。是其始死也，我獨何能無概然。察其始而本無生，非徒無生也，而本無形，非徒無形也，而本無氣。雜乎芒芴之間，變而有氣，氣變而有形，形變而有生，今又變而之死，是相與為春秋冬夏四時行也。 Zhuangzi said, "You're wrong. When she first died, do you think I didn't grieve like anyone else? But I looked back to her beginning and the time before she was born. Not only the time before she was born, but the time before she had a body. Not only the time before she had a body, but the time before she had a spirit. In the midst of the jumble of wonder and mystery a change took place and she had a spirit. Another change and she had a body. Another change and she was born. Now there's been another change and she's dead. It's just like the progression of the four seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter." 人且偃然寢於巨室，而我噭噭然隨而哭之，自以為不通乎命，故止也。 "Now she's going to lie down peacefully in a vast room. If I were to follow after her bawling and sobbing, it would show that I don't understand anything about fate. So I stopped."

— Zhuangzi, chapter 18 (Watson translation)

Zhuangzi is perhaps gentler than Yoda in the way he presents the lesson; he leads Huizi through his own thought process to his ultimate conclusion rather than stating a pure philosophical ideal, but his circumstances are also different than Yoda's.

Huizi serves as a stand in for a student listening to the story for the first time. He is totally naive to the lesson Zhuangzi has to teach him.

Anakin comes to Yoda as an adult, seeking advice, not as a child whose every decision should have to be monitored by the adults around him. When Anakin is unwilling to share the details of his situation, it is not Yoda's place to interrogate him for those details or solve his problems for him.

Personally, (no one rip me apart for oversimplifying a little here) I do not interrogate my friends for every detail anytime they say they are having a rough time, no matter how curious I might be. I listen to the details they want to share, ask for clarifying details if they are relevant, and if I am told enough to recognize a way I could help, I offer them that help. If they refuse my help, or do not offer me a way to help, I offer what advice or what comfort I can. I do not barge into their life and start making decisions for them, because they are adults with reasonable understandings of the world and are more capable of making decisions for themselves than I am, no matter how much I want to be able to make all their problems go away.

To put it another way, I let go of my curiosity, my desire to prove myself helpful, and my desire for a perfect world in order to respect the autonomy of my friends by allowing them to decide how to live and what help to accept.

Anakin gives Yoda nothing to work with except that he is having visions of the possible pain, suffering, or death of someone close to him. They are in the middle of a war, there is pain, suffering, and death everywhere. The person closest to Anakin that Yoda knows about is Obi-Wan, another adult that can take care of himself. Frankly, even if Yoda suspected anything, Padmé is an adult who can take care of herself.

Anakin is an adult who comes to Yoda for advice, not a child seeking an intervention, and Yoda offers him the best advice he has, in a manner that Anakin clearly understands, because he responds to the speech by asking,

"What must I do, Master Yoda?"

He understands what Yoda is saying and asks more about what it means for him. This is the moment where he implies, truthfully or not, that he is ready to learn the lesson, and that he can deal with the problem on his own. There is nothing else Yoda can to without more concrete details but offer him a final instruction,

"Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose."

Sometimes the idea that George Lucas had religious inspirations outside of Christianity when it came to the central themes of Star Wars is greatly distrusted in the fandom, but a lot of Star Wars actually validates the fact that he was interested in a lot more than borrowing Samurai aesthetics. It is more common, in my experience, to see the eastern influenced parts of Jedi philosophy denigrated, misunderstood, and over-simplified than the parts which are influenced by christianity.

To me it is difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile concepts of unconditional love and absolute forgiveness without also understanding what it means to let go of attachment.

[enlitment]

Decent Dad Contest:

in light of the already depressing recent poll and and even more depressing thread, I think it's best to do a nicer poll this time!

Thanks to @anotherhumaninthisworld for coming up with the idea and providing info about Camille's dad!

1. Jean Benoît Nicolas Desmoulins

Supportive of his son's revolutionary goals while also expressing worry about his safety (perfectly reasonable)

Seemed to have a lot of patience with his son (which is saying something, given that it's Camille we're talking about... you need all the patience you can get)

Most likely rooting for his relationship with Lucile

Ready to give his son advice

"No, my son, I am not and can never be of your enemies (...) I am and always will be your friend and your best friend"

wrote a letter to the public prosecutor to try and plea for his son's life (in which he mentioned that he's proud of him: fellow-citizen Desmoulins, who until now has held himself honoured in being the father of the foremost and most unflinching of Republicans)

2. Denis Diderot

named his daughter Angélique after his beloved sister and mother

the shared love for their daughter is assumed to be what kept Diderot's and his wife's shaky marriage together for a long time

used the money he got from working on the Encyclopédie to secure the best possible tutors for his daughter

Went again the standards of girls' education of his time (usually focused on singing and piano lessons), instead choosing to teach her to 'think logically' and secure classes in subjects such as history, geography, or musical theory

"I shall teach her, if I can, to endure [the difficulties of life] with fortitude"

there's a reasonable evidence that he believed in his daughter's 'genius' as a composer, and even had the prelude she composed printed (you can listen to it here!)

I recommend this great post and this article for further reading if you're interested!

Also take this with the grain of salt, especially the Diderot one, I should be packing for a trip and didn't have that much time to dig for sources.

Also unfortunately some not completely enlightened views on women authors by our enlightenment philosopher... but hey, at least he believed his daughter to be special, which is kind of sweet? The female question in the 1700s is complex okay...

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Domestic Dream part 2: Family Bonds

Bayverse!Raphael x reader

Part 1

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

Y'all really liked my Domestic Dream with Raphael, so I’ve decided to give you more of him with your family.

Warnings: None, other than sweet Raph and maybe some spelling❤️

—-----------------------------------------

As the months rolled on, Raphael found himself becoming an integral part of your family. He trained with your little brother in makeshift ninja lessons, endured your mother's attempts at cooking (some successful, some not so much), and even engaged in friendly banter with your father over the latest action movies, or whatever game they had decided to watch.

One Saturday morning, as sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the living room in a warm glow, you and Raphael found yourselves surrounded by board games and the smell of breakfast. It was a rare moment of tranquility in the busy lives you all led.

You had invited both of your parents and brother over for a family day filled with board games and movies. Though your parents weren’t together, it didn’t stop them from spending time with you and your little brother, nor did it keep them from spending time with your mutant ninja turtle boyfriend.

You found it amazing, that the one thing that had shocked your parents the most about your boyfriend, was just a minor footnote now. Raphael, a massive muscular green mutant turtle, with superhuman strength, who had studied the art ninja since he was a child? According to your parents, he was proving to become the best son in law they could dream of.

As your little brother excitedly set up a game of Monopoly, Raphael surveyed the scene with a contented smile. You were in the kitchen, cleaning the last few things from the dinner. Raphael had offered to help you, but you had given him a kiss, and told him not to worry about it.

Your mother, sipping on a cup of coffee, caught his eye and motioned for him to join her on the couch.

"You know", she began. "I never thought I'd be sharing my Saturday mornings with a mutant turtle, but I do quite enjoy it".

Raphael chuckled, "Yeah, well, life's full of surprises".

"I have to admit, though", she continued. "You bring a different energy to this place. It's not what I expected, but it's... nice."

Raphael nodded appreciatively. "Thanks. I never thought I'd find myself in a place like this. It's different, but I like it."

Just then, your father approached, a mischievous glint in his eye. He tapped Raphael on the shoulder, drawing attention to the open Carlsberg beer he held out for him. Raphael accepted it with a smile.

"So, Raphael”, your father said, taking a seat in your armchair. “Got any special plans for our daughter?"

Raphael raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Your father grinned. "Well, you know, you seem like the type who could pull off a surprise. Any grand gestures in the works?"

Raphael scratched the back of his head, a hint of a blush visible under his tough exterior when he realized what your father was talking about. "Uh, well, I'm still figuring that out".

“Well… uhm… I’ve… uh”.

Your mother nudged Raphael playfully. "Don't worry, we won't judge. It’s okay if you haven’t thought about it. But if you need advice, feel free to ask".

“Don’t worry about her”, your father laughed. “She is just impatient and wants grandchildren”.

Raphael’s face got hot. He had not thought so far, at all. Sure, he had the occasional thought of growing old with you, but he had never let his thoughts wonder that far. But then a realization fell upon Raphael. They must have talked about you and Raph, and they must have agreed. They wanted you to marry Raph and they wanted the two of you to give them grandchildren. They really trusted him with you. That touched something inside of Raph. Raphael could feel his insides warm at this thought. But he was also in slight shock. He had never thought that he could ever do that. He had never thought of having, because his nature would simply make it impossible. Nobody would want children with him… But just a few months ago he had never thought your family would like him, and see him now. Your parents were literally asking when he was going to propose to you.

As the banter continued between your parents and Raphael, your little brother announced that the Monopoly board was ready for action, just as you finished cleaning the kitchen. The game commenced, filled with laughter, friendly competition, and the occasional intervention of a stealthy ninja move from Raphael that left everyone in stitches.

As the day unfolded, it became clear that Raphael had not only won over your heart but had also forged genuine connections with each member of your family. The initial reservations had transformed into a shared understanding that family came in all shapes and sizes.

Later that evening, as you all gathered for a movie night, Raphael found himself enveloped in the warmth of your family. Snacks were passed around, ready to be eaten to the movie you were about to watch. Jokes were shared, and as it so often happened when Raphael was around your family, he felt a sense of belonging that extended beyond the sewers and the rooftops of New York. He was placed in the middle of your couch, with you to his left and your brother on his right, while your parents each had found their own arm chair.

Your little brother, exhausted from the day's adventures, leaned against Raphael on the couch, who instinctively put an arm around him. "You know, Raph," he mumbled sleepily, without moving his eyes from the television. "You're like the big brother I never knew I wanted".

Raphael, touched by the sentiment, ruffled his hair. "Yeah, well, you're not so bad yourself, squirt."

As the credits rolled on the movie, your little brother, nestled comfortably against Raphael, looked up and said, "I'm glad you're part of our family, Raph."

Raphael smiled, a rare genuine smile that reflected the depth of the bonds formed. "Yeah, kid, me too."

Your mother, watching the interaction, couldn't help but smile. She caught your eye and gave you a knowing look. You, who hadn’t heard the conversation Raph had had with your parents, looked at your boyfriend in slight confusion. But Raphael on the other hand knew exactly what your mother was smiling for.

And in that moment, as the stars emerged in the night sky outside of your apartment, it was clear that Raphael had not only found acceptance but had become an essential part of a family that, against all odds, had embraced him with open hearts.

And in that moment, surrounded by the people who had once been strangers but were now family, Raphael realized that love and acceptance could be found in the most unexpected places. And maybe he should allow himself to dream of a normal life with you.

[eydi-andrius]

Fool Entire IV

warnings: verbal abuse, implied attempted r*pe, abuse of power, physical violence

Synopsis

If someone asked you who Prince Aemond was in your life, you probably would have said the love of your life.

Years have passed but still your heart yearns for him.

But you were no fool.

It was a lesson learned for you not to give your heart to a man who knows nothing but duty.

a/n: it's been a while huh? well it turns out i've already written chapters for this story and completely forgot about them. And yes, it was him with his slutty walk that made me check my WIPs for Aemond. 😂 Anyway! ENJOY! or I guess??? 🤺 It's also 3AM and I can't sleep. Augh!

Part III here.

🌿🌿🌿

"Then go." Simon replied nonchalantly.

"Did you even hear what I said?" You grimaced when he did not think twice giving you an answer to the questions you have been beating yourself to answer and choose from.

"I did." He said looking around.

"Then why did you recommend that I go back to court? You know how much I suffered." With a huff, you crossed your arms and glared at him.

"Little lady…. It is because, without a doubt, that you were born to be a noble lady. Tell me…how many times has someone been banished to a life full of riches for them to have an opportunity to go back without marrying? None." He also crossed his arms and glared back at you as he explained how his answer was the best one. He looks absolutely sure. And here you thought he would be the one to tell you not to.

"And based on your story, you were not going back as someone's fiance. I believe it is a win." He continued.

"How about my business then-"

"Nah uh. Once you become a noble lady again, you'll have more resources to use for it to grow. Think about it. Create your own wealth so if something happens and you were banished again, you'll have your own power. You will not go back to this slum. And your sister will be away from danger. Once an opportunity arises, you must seize it. Not everyone can get a second chance. Hear thy advice from a former mercenary. Seize it!" He squeezed his palm into fist and raised it in the air.

You can't help but chuckle on his antics and he bowed in front of you like an actor ending a play. Sometimes you cannot understand how he can act this way in a serious conversation.

"But I am serious, I won't be able to protect you always, especially now that I am having a child. I know how hard you thrive on your own and how much you have worked for you and your sister's life. However, we must know when to take chances when they show themselves. I admit that I worry about you. You are like a little sister of mine and I am saying this for your safety. Think about it." He gave a soft smile and tapped your nose.

In annoyance, you huffed and scrunched your face in disgust. How can an old man try to act adorable. He always does this when you look too serious and he usually follows the gesture with a…

"Alas! You're too young to worry too much about those things every time, so how about we move forward?" You can't help but roll your eyes. Simon will always be Simon. He is so predictable but you can always rely on his strength.

"Sister!" Your head snapped at the voice who called you and your eyes softened when you could see your sister sparkling with excitement at a fabric stall. The place looks dark for an afternoon. As if it was intentionally dimmed.

You smiled and went to her direction, followed closely by Simon.

"Look at it! The blue fabric glows in the dark!" She chirped and immediately showed you how beautifully the blue hue of the fabric looks, like the stars in the night. Glowing majestically from a gloomy night. It was gorgeous and you can't help but touch it. The fabric was soft, just like how you imagine clouds would feel, if you touch them. It is one of a kind and you can't help but be awed at how this cloth existed.

"Beautiful isn't it? The dye came from the ocean, while the fabric was loomed in a very certain way, making it so soft to the touch. You can only find that fabric available in our shop." The owner looks smug as he explains how they have gathered the needed materials for the said fabric. On how they made the cloth be so soft and how the dye looks so much alive, rather than just a glowing color at night.

"How much is it?" You asked, gulping nervously. Most of the time when owners introduce something this detailed the price will probably be something you can't afford.

You winced when he told you how much it was. The owner's face soured and shouted your party away as he saw how your face changed. He probably thought you and your sister were rich for having Simon around and also for having better clothing than the others in here. Of course, Simon did not back down without shouting his curses as well and calling the owner a bald bastard. You did your best to apologize but his mocking became too much and it was Simon who dragged you two away from the snobbish business man.

"Hah! That fabric is probably fake! That bald man really thought he could swindler us." Simon remarked bitterly as he copied how the business man introduced his product to you and your sister.

"Well, the fabric was truly beautiful and he seemed proud of it. It was our fault for not asking how much first. We wasted his time." You convinced him, but your tone still hurt by what happened.

"Oh don't start with that! That's the reason why you shouldn't be here at all. You become street smart, yes. But you still can't help putting logic on other people's bad behavior. If you know you're putting a new item for sale, you shouldn't treat your customers awfully for not being able to afford it. That was probably fake. Remember that." He rolled his eyes and walked in front of you and your sister with a frown. Your sister just giggled at you and you gave her a smile.

"I guess, we should continue and focus on our task at hand." With a deep breath, you opened the list of what you needed to buy and directed your company on what to do for today's leg work.

The afternoon sun was harsh as it beats you strolling around the market. Sweats build on your forehead and you can't help the amount of times you need to ask Simon for a break. You haggled, checked for new suppliers and searched the market for potential competitors like you always do to make sure you're top notch and following the trend. It helps a lot looking for new customers.

Once the shopping was done, you three decided to visit the brothel for refreshments. You'll just pay the girls there rather than here at the market.

However, there seems to be some sort of commotion. There were tons of people outside and you excused your way to see what was going on. You let out a horrified gasp when you saw bits of wood from broken tables and chairs. It was scattered everywhere. Looking around you saw the mistress, sitting in front of the door, dirtied and bruised. You ran towards the mistress and kneeled in front of her, asking her what happened. You helped to sit her on a chair that was brought out by one of the girls. She held her head. Her right cheek was swollen, eyes filled with fear. She looks pale too.

"Who did all of this!?" Simon yelled as he checked the damage and went inside the brothel.

Mysaria's business is protected not even by her connections but also by the Rouge Prince, Daemon Targaryen, so who in their right mind would do something so terrible and be bold.

"Are you feeling better?" You immediately handed over the goblet of water your sister brought to give to the mistress. You helped her tip over the cup and you told her to drink slowly. As you look closely, the red was starting to form like someone's hand, indicating that someone must have hurt her.

"You shouldn't be in here." Once she swallowed the water, she looked at you and grabbed your arm. Her eyes wide with worry.

"They're looking for you."

"Who?" Your heart beat faster and you can only think of someone who might be looking for you. His familiar back and silver hair flashes in your memory. Could it be possible that he found your connections with Mysaria already?

"They're back. The nobles who were looking for you to make you their slave." The horror in your face were visible and the fear you first felt about these people being Aemond were replaced with disgust and anger.

"How could they be so bold attacking Mysaria's place just to find a mere vanished lady?" You stood up and yelled. You can hear Simon and the other guards telling the outsiders to leave as they need to clean up the place.

"The Rouge Prince were removed as the head of the Night's Watch. He was banished by the King himself. And now, the position was empty. And those nobles with higher power acts like they own the place.

Is there really a time you could truly find peace?

"Go home. We can handle this. We did not say anything to them. The girls and I like you too much to let them find you. Go!" Before you can protest, one of the girls gives you two cloaks and pushes you away from the brothel. One of them dragged Simon out and she specifically told him to protect you on your way home.

The walk was quiet and tense. You can't help looking around you as you used another route to go home. The only time you stopped panicking was when Simon touched your shoulder and told you to breath. You did not realize you were holding on for a long time now. With worry, your sister called your name, held your hand and squeezed it to reassure you that you two will be safe.

While you do trust their words, it wasn't in your power to stop yourself from the trauma you suffered days after you were banished from the Red Keep.

You can't trust no one. Especially, the night guard's who known you to be Aemond's fiancé. You thought everyone liked you in court, that's why they were nice to you. But you were naive and only realized it a moment too late, when they were chasing you in the forest like a rabbit being hunted by wolves. They teased, cursed and insulted you as they do their best to locate you. They did not mention anything but you know they were planning to do some awful things to you. You were like a precious commodity that suddenly dropped in value and the fascination to have a taste of the person the Prince had, was an exotic opportunity for them.

You remembered the cold, your wet clothes from rain sticking on you like a second skin. Everything hurts and you were in pain but not a single thought about stopping from running crossed your mind. You cannot go home or else they will hurt your sister. So you did your best to get as far from home and lose them. You run before dawn and now you can see the sun peaking slowly above. You look behind you and you are sure you can't hear their voices anymore. You have to look for a way to go home now and get back. They probably got tired or maybe they got lost. But the most important thing was to meet your sister. You stepped towards a branch and the leaves gave way and you fell down towards a cliff. The area you stepped into had no land. It was a facade. Like a trap from nature. You did your best to shield your head from the impact and braced yourself as your body hit a tree. Your right arm was painful and your vision was spotted with black dots. Slowly, you don't know if it was because of the pain, hunger or exhaustion but your body succumbed to sleep but in your head, you forced yourself to stand up.

The moment you woke up, the smell of cooking meat woke you up. The fire crackles as it stirs the juicy part of the boar. It smells heavenly.

"Oh! Thank the Gods, you're awake. I thought my journey will be with me digging a grave for a dead body." The man wearing pleated armor and a sword looked at you, from his place sitting in front of the grilling meat.

You only widened your eyes and choked words as you panicked and did your best to move but failed as your body feels like it came from death.

"Woah! Woah! You don't have to worry. I am a stranger but I do not plan to hurt an injured lady. As you can see on my clothes, I am a mercenary and I'm on my way home to the capital when I saw you, almost dead in here. I gave you some medicine for the pain but it will take a while to work. I also bandaged the places I could. I don't have enough things so it is better for us to go to the capital once you are numb." He explained and as much as you do not trust him, he seems sincere to what he just said.

"Why are you in the middle of the forest, anyway?" He asked, curious and confused. He probably knew by now or at least for you, you think it was impossible for a lady to be alone in the forest but since he already checked your injuries, he knew you fought well.

You tried to swallow but there's no words coming out of your mouth. You looked at his container and he understood what you meant right away. He moved towards you and asked for your permission first before helping you out.

Once he tipped the body of his bottle, crisp water comforted your parched and wounded throat. It was heaven despite coughing a bit from the change of dry throat from cold water.

"Easy easy." He warned and you blinked in acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry. I was being chased by the night guards and ended here." You explained and his chill demeanor turned cold right away.

"Those bastards?" He asked. Voice gritty in anger.

"I can't believe they were trying to chase a girl to rape her. Did they not cut off all the cocks the past moon due to rape? Disgusting cows!" His forehead flexed in annoyance and veins started popping out from it. He looks angry, no, furious, as he yelled and cursed the golden cloaked protectors of the realm.

"Here drink this again. I hope this medicine works fast so we can leave here. I'm scared that those disgusting creatures will look for you again. They surely like being in power and abusing it. My darling almost fell victim of it so I promise that you can trust me." He looks serious and firm so all you did was nod and you did not hesitate to have his help.

You usually do not trust someone this fast anymore but there was something truthful and raw from his story. As if yours, even though a bit different, hit close to his experience.

And days after, you found out his name was Simon and her lover was once being taken advantage of those gold cloaked bastards.

He was seething as he told you what happened and you just stared at him the whole time. Somehow, you were grateful that the first one to help you can be a friend and an ally.

Years pass by and your friendship with Simon and his wife, flourished and you treat them like a family.

"Do not open your doors when you don't hear our secret knock. Also, make sure to make your place look like no one lives here. Stay at the back of the house near the other exit for the meantime and if you can live below for now. We are not sure if we can even trust your neighbors. I'll make sure to send food and the things you need." His grip on his sword tightened and you held his hand to stop him from hurting himself.

"I am grateful to be your friend, Simon. We will listen to you". You smiled unsure but you felt his tightened your hold for comfort and he breathed deeply.

"Be safe. I will make sure that they will not find you and the slums will vomit the likes of them. You are part of us now and we will protect you. "With a nod of understanding, Simon left and you and your sister were left by yourselves.

~~~~~

Simon kept his promise in taking care of the two of you as you laylow. You also got ahold of Mysaria and she told you to listen to Simon as she is too faraway to help. It seems like the blow of the fight between the Prince and the King kept Mysaria's power in question especially since she was asked to runaway with him. All she could do was say yes and do her best to appease the Rouge Prince to not kill and destroy her power that she established by herself.

Your sister did your best to entertain you and not mourn the hindrance that stopped your business. She had told you stories she heard, the things she learned and did her very best to take your mind off the worry. You were happy that she was doing her best and it did take your mind off the worry and you focused on learning more on how you can improve your business in Isolation.

However, it was way too peaceful. Sooner or later, something will go wrong. You just don't know when it will happen. So you pray. You pray to the Mother for protection. Hoping that she won't let her daughters of faith be harmed. Like she always has done for you for the past moons