#bring your mother to justice I swear it

[evil-swedenish]

It is such a precious thing to be loved

Here’s the edit if TikTok gets deleted next week 💀💀

[vantetaes]

BOOK WORM 🫧🥂

BOOK WORM! ARMIN X BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!! yn helps her friend relieve some stress.

WARNINGS!! 18+!! mentions of oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption, pet names, honestly just smut

the door creeps open slowly, revealing a figure illuminated by a laptop screen and a faulty led lamp. the faint clicking from the keyboard and sound of papers ruffling were the only sound that filled the room.

you peer around, the cluttered desk told you everything you needed to know: scattered papers, a coffee cup that looked like it hadn’t moved in hours, and a faint shadow under his eyes that screamed exhaustion.

“armin. what the hell?” walking over to the boy, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. the bag you came in being placed on the only clear spot of the desk. he leans into your touch a little, enjoying the warmth you never failed to bring, but snapping out of it quickly, rearing back up to continue typing.

“finals are in two weeks and if i don’t get my scores perfect i’ll have to hear about it for ages with my lawyer brother, attorney sister, my supreme court justice father, and my doctor mother.” he never once stopped typing. bending down to your knees, he gives you a small glance before reaching for a stack of crumbled pages, shuffling the sheets in confusion.

“i know it’s arou- ah! okay good.” he picks up a half ripped sheet, copying down the data from the sheet onto his laptop. lips in a tight line, you stand back up, digging through the tan tote bag. a small case of flavored beer and a couple of shooters make their way onto the desk. he looks over at the spread, immediately shaking his head.

“hell no, yn! are you crazy? i have class in the morning.” you throw you hands up in defeat.

“can we make a deal ‘minnie?” he ignores you, still typing. fed up, you finally unzip your jacket, tossing it on the extra chair. throwing one of your legs around the boy, he rears his hands up , scared to touch you. you’re straddling him, pushing the blonde locks out of his face, tucking a few of the longer pieces behind his ear. his ice blue eyes stare up at you in confusion.

“what are you doing, yn?”

“drink one beer with me. not! while doing homework. just enjoy a full beer and maybe a shooter and i’ll leave you alone afterwards! swear.” holding your pinky out to the male, he bites the insides of his cheek, thinking really hard about your opposition.

“just one?” waving your pink acrylic back and forth between your bodies, he finally latches on with his.

-

PARTYNEXTDOOR plays in the background, filling the void of quiet. the entire six pack was now just one. the one you and armin were currently sharing. he takes a swig from it, grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, he places the bottle to your lips. his blue eyes stare as you gulp down the last of the liquid catches you off guard, causing you to cough up a little, accidentally getting it on his white shirt.

“oh shit. im sorry.” you try to wipe it off with your sleeve. he just laughs, moving your arm a little.

“it’s okay. i’ll change.” he moves from his position on the bed, hand gripping the shirt from behind his head, pulling it over, stripping himself of the shirt. you couldn’t help but notice the way his back was sculpted.

since when does he work out? is that a tattoo?

“i didn’t know you had a tat, minnie.” slurring, he turns around to look at you sprawled out on his bed. your body waved hair sprawled out everywhere, sweater falling off your shoulders and shorts riding up your thighs.

he knows, you’re only his friend and he had no chance with you. hell, your ex is onyankopon. what could armin give up that he wasn’t? but shit, the way he thinks about you. the way his eyes can’t help but to feast on your appearance when you’re near him. he wanted to ruin you. to cherish you. to make you his.

“yeah it was an old friends idea. he passed not too long ago. still miss the kid.” he just hangs his head before going back to look for another shirt.

“come here.” you say assertively. armin turns around, the front looking just as good as his back.

he drunkenly waddles back to the bed, climbing back into his original spot. your finger traces over the abstract tattoo, inspecting it closely.

it was a sigilism tattoo that started below his ribs and extended up his left pec, to his bicep.

your other hand rested on his abdomen, laying up against the man.

“how long did it take?” you quiz.

“it was honestly two full sessions since im a pussy. so about five hours a session.” he laughs, face turning a little red.

“i think it’s so cool.” you say still studying the ink. look over at the man you see his eyes directly on you, then a quick glance down at your lips.

“i think you’re cool.” you say, feeling his body inch closer, gradually changing your position. his hands wrap around your waist, slowly shifting him under you. eyes never breaking contact.

“i think you’re-“ he leans down, eye to eye with you. his lips plant down firmly on yours. moving in sync, you could feel him relax into it, tongue occasionally swiping across your bottom lip. you’d never been this close to him. he smelled like coconut and dior cologne, hair dangling above your face.

“what about onyankopon?” pulling away from the heated kiss, he asks, worry filling his eyes.

“mm- what about him?”

“right. if you want me to stop, let me know pleas-“ throwing your arms around his neck, you pull him back down. his lips were so soft. his breath tasted like fresh peppermint, completely baffling you since you both just drank alcohol. he was intoxicating.

moving your lips in unison, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the gradual deepening of the kiss. the way his lips part slightly against yours, inviting more. his fingers slide gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward his, eager.

he forces himself to break away, whining at the loss. his lips move to your neck, hands wondering every inch of your body, trying to stimulate you every way he can. sucking and leaving marks all over your collarbone, he finds himself helping you remove your sweater. revealing a pink lace bralette.

“fuck, everything about you is so beautiful.” you whine, tugging at his sweatpants knot.

“well get there princess, lust let me make you feel good please. it’s the only thing i’ve wanted to do. let me eat you.” you could damn near see the fire that burned behind his eyes. his large hands slip under your bra, gently massaging them, using his index and thumb to roll your nipples in between. a gasp escapes your lips.

“armin- fuck.” he gets impatient, lifting your bra up to your chest, mouth immediately attaching to the swollen bud. your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape, gripping at the man’s golden locs.

he leaves them both a few kisses before peppering your stomach with a few kisses.

staring down at the man, you see him kissing at the inside of your thighs, humming after every kiss. he finally gets impatient, gripping the shorts by the waistband, yanking them off your body. you giggle, being tugged a little.

wasting no time, he pins your legs back to the bed and starts eating you like he’s starving. his tongue dragging back and forth over your clit, saliva and spit mixing to create a glisten on the man’s face. his lips attach to your swollen clit, sucking soft while he reaches up to play with your matching swollen nipples, sliding his hands all over your exposed body.

“oh armin please!” you could feel him getting hungrier by the minute, his grip on your legs getting tighter as he rubs his tongue up and down your pussy. he stuffed two long thick fingers into your cunt scissoring them, ultimately touching your g-spot. you tried moving, your body tingling, but armin was so drunk from you, he couldn’t tell. his finger hooked into you, slowly stroking the spot, his tongue still abusing your nub. you were seeing stars at this point.

“fuck- minnie im gonna cum!” without fail, you released all over the man’s hand, fluid shooting out of your throbbing cunt, all over his face.

but he didn’t stop. his tongue continued its dance around on you.

“fuck me, i can’t take anymore, please armin.”

without saying anything, he pulls you closer by the waist. coming out of his sweatpants, his hand pumps a few times while he reaches in his side desk to grab a condom.

you also never knew how big he was. you stare at his length as he hovers over you, a little confused.

“where was that at?” you point, he laughs, pushing your legs apart again. looking down, a string of saliva falls right onto your slick, mixing in with the rest.

“was savin him for you, baby.” the tip slides in with ease, armins head throws back, already in love with the way you were sucking him in.

“give me all of it, please.” hips bucking up, trying to get the entire length into your throbbing core. his hands dig into your hips, pressing your down into the mattress, slowly sliding fully into you.

nails on his back, you let out the most nasty moan.

“shit, you feel so good squeezing around me.” pulling out, his body shakes a little, unable to control his whiny moans.

he keeps his strokes gentle and paced, still holding your body deep into the bed. hands pressed to the back of your thighs, he pushes down more, spreading yourself open to take more of him.

his throbbing cock continues slow and teasing, building a fire in the pit of your stomach. pulling your legs together, feet towards his face, his mouth kisses your pedicured toes.

the paces quickens, causing your body to forcefully move up and down. he snakes his arms around your legs, locking them in place with a bear hug, still pounding against you.

“armin! im cumming againn-” before you could catch yourself, you’re squirting all over his dick. he laughs at you, removing his arm, using one of his hands to play with your clit.

“ feel so fucking good. i don’t wanna stop fucking you. please, give me one more.”

he didn’t care that he hadn’t finished, all he wanted was you and all he could give you.

his pace slows down, the look on his face in pure bliss. your hands come up, caressing his face, tears brimming your eyes. the words wouldn’t even form.

“i want it baby, please cum with me.” your voice broken and low, his body lowers, connecting with yours and he slides his arms under your body, slowing down to a good pace. the unforgettable feeling of that tight coil in your stomach shows again as his cock digs at your spot relentlessly.

“im gonna cum, fuck-“

“me too, give it to me, ‘min!” your bodies clash against each others, sweat collecting on your chests, finally reaching the climax. his hips slow down, trying to catch his breath. pulling out, you both groan.

“i hope you know im not letting you fuck anybody else.” he saying rolling over, fixing your hair. your head falls over in direction.

“you too baby.”

with a few more laughs, he stands from the bed, trashing the condom before walking to you. his large arms scoop you up into a cradle.

“let’s get you in the shower.”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

[aangarchy]

Ok but the fact aang is a child. And thinks u have to forgive someone who killed ur family. I bet Monk gyatso and the others were rolling in their graves devastated they can't ever tell Aang the real deal that he would've been told when he got older.

Monk gyatso probably: NO AANG. ITS JUST ABT LETTING GO

Ah, yet another shining example of someone who missed the entire point of the show.

If you think monk Gyatso would be "rolling in his grave" (which he doesn't even have, and i'm pretty sure air nomads don't do graves anyway) to see Aang grant Ozai mercy, you have completely misunderstood what air nomad culture represents. Air is the element of freedom. Yes, it's about letting go, not having any attachments. But not having attachments also means letting go of your feelings of hatred, letting go of grudges, and not letting your feelings consume you. Aang understands that remaining angry and bitter will not bring his people back. All he can do, is try his best to preserve and protect his culture, and part of that culture is an oath of pacifism. Aang choosing to spare Ozai does not mean he forgives him, or his predecessors for what they have done to the world. Instead, he lets go of his anger and hatred towards them so he himself can be free. Maybe eventually Aang will forgive them, but i personally don't believe it's then and there.

If anything, monk Gyatso would be proud of the decision Aang made in the end. It's the ultimate middle finger to the fire nation to show that they failed at destroying the air nation. Aang is not only a symbol of hope for the other remaining nations to end the war, but also for his own culture to prevail, and keep existing in whatever limited form Aang can preserve.

I think what you're referring to is TSR, with "thinks u have to forgive someone who killed ur family", when he tried to teach Katara about letting go and forgiving. Aang wasn't doing that bc he's against Katara getting justice. If anything, he agreed Katara needed to face Yon Rah for her own closure. But he's not trying to teach Katara forgiveness so he can save Yon Rah, he's doing it so he can save Katara. He knew that if Katara went through with this she'd get consumed by hate and anger for the rest of her life. Zuko even admitted in the end that Aang was right about what Katara needed, and it wasn't killing her mother's killer. And Katara did end up forgiving someone at the end of the episode, namely Zuko. Katara still learned and accepted Aang's lesson by the end, when at first she insisted forgiveness was impossible.

Also I think you're forgetting that Air nomads swear a non violence oath. Gyatso swore this oath as well. So again, idk where you're getting this idea that Gyatso would be "rolling in his grave" to see Aang stick to this oath.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Hi! I don't know if you already have an idea for the birthday post, if you do feel free to ignore this...my favourite trope is dad!harry too...what if H has to go for an emergency meeting somewhere else out the country even before his birthday and he has to spend his birthday there too and he is bummed about it...the fmc can fly out with their daughter/son and when he is back from his meeting his room is all decorated and stuff and she tells him she asked jeff to cancel everything...and they do a bunch of fun stuff but at night, after dinner she and the baby surprise him with another baby or something and he is like best birthday ever, 30 is already amazing

Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - thank you so much to @missbearforfun for sending in this request, ive had had a fun time writing this, ive changed a few things up, so i hope that ive done it justice.

i can’t believe that my boy is 30….like i swear he was just auditioning for the x-factor yesterday. 🥹

word count - 4.4k

in which, harry gets called to do a meeting in italy, two days before his birthday, which means that he’ll be spending his 30th out there with just his manager jeff, what he doesn’t realise is that you, his darling wife, fly out to surprise him and hopefully give him the best birthday he’s ever had.

You’ve been in Harry’s life for just over ten years.

You’ve spent five of those years as boyfriend and girlfriend, two of those years as his fiancé, and now, this year will be leading up to the third year being each other's husband and wife.

The first birthday of his that you spent with him, was his 20th all the way back in 2014. He had organised an intimate get together at a restaurant full of all of his closest family and friends, and it was the first time that you would be turning up together, as an official couple seeing as the only people who knew about the two of you were his band mates and his mother,sister, father and step father.

It was also the night that he confessed to you that he loved you, and that you were the one person that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.

From that moment on, every birthday became a cherished chapter in your shared history.

Waking up in each other's arms has become a comforting tradition, marking the beginning of a day dedicated solely to celebrating Harry's existence. The warmth of those morning embraces symbolises the depth of your connection, a connection that has withstood the tests of time.

As the years unfolded, you've witnessed the evolution of Harry, both in age and character, yet the love between you two has remained unwavering.

From his 21st to his 30th birthday, you've made it a point to spend the day in a way that brings him joy. Whether it's exploring new places, indulging in his favourite activities, or simply relaxing together, the focus has always been on creating memories that reflect the essence of Harry.

Each birthday has become a canvas on which you paint moments of happiness and shared experiences.

You had spent every birthday with him, but for this one, it appeared to already be turning out in a way neither of you had expected.

A mere few days before Harry's anticipated birthday, an unexpected call from his manager, Jeff, sent ripples of disappointment through his plans. The urgency of an issue related to his beauty brand, Pleasing, required Harry's immediate attention in the Italy.

The brand we’re thinking of opening a pop-up shop over there, seeing as the country held so much adoration in both of your hearts, it was the place where you got married, the place where he proposed and where he now wanted his fans over there to have access to him and what he had to offer.

With flights already booked, he faced the heart-wrenching reality of having to leave just over two days before his special day. Devastation etched across his face as he contemplated the unforeseen disruption to the birthday celebration he had eagerly anticipated.

In a desperate attempt to reason with Jeff, Harry explained his deep desire to spend his birthday with you, sharing the disappointment that overshadowed the joy of the impending celebration.

However, the urgency of the matter prevailed, leaving Harry torn between personal desires and professional obligations. As his best mate and manager, Jeff empathised with Harry but emphasised the gravity of the situation, reinforcing the necessity of this unexpected journey.

Amidst the disappointment, you stepped in to comfort Harry, assuring him that celebrations could be postponed but his presence and well-being mattered most. You offered solace, reminding him that distance could not diminish the love and connection you shared.

The promise of a belated but equally meaningful celebration upon his return brought a glimmer of hope to the gloom that hung over his imminent departure.

You had promised him, that you would FaceTime him on his actual birthday and that you would both order the same takeaway that night and have a little over the phone date, just to celebrate this big milestone.

On the morning Harry was set to depart for Italy, the anticipation of his journey hung in the air. Dressed for travel, he stood before you with a small suitcase by the door.

Shoes on, cap snug, and sunglasses concealing his eyes, he exuded a mix of excitement and reluctance. Despite the January chill in London, the promise of Italy's warmth upon landing prompted him to prepare for a contrasting climate.

Your eyes held a silent plea as you stood before him, sorrow evident in your gaze.

"I wish I didn't have t’go," Harry admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

You nodded, understanding the weight of the situation, your silence echoing the unspoken emotions in the room.

Milo, your ten-month-old Rottweiler puppy, sensed the sombre atmosphere, wagging his tail as if trying to infuse joy into the moment.

Unable to contain your emotions, you wrapped your arms around Harry in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you so much," you whispered, your voice betraying the ache within. Harry's embrace tightened, and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'll miss y’more, m’love," he murmured, the sincerity in his words resonating with the depth of his emotions.

Crouching down to pet Milo, Harry spoke to the pup with a soft smile, "Take care of mummy for me, little buddy."

Milo responded with excited barks, seemingly understanding the impending absence.

Standing up, Harry looked into your eyes, his own reflecting a mixture of love and longing.

Your gaze locked with his, finding solace in the promise of a future reunion.

"We'll have the most amazing belated birthday celebration," you said, trying to inject positivity into the moment.

Harry smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"I can't wait f’that. Until then, stay strong f’me," he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

As the door closed behind him, the echo of his departure resonated through the silent space. Left with the imprint of his touch, the memory of his presence, and the anticipation of his return, you and Milo faced a home that suddenly felt emptier without him.

"I'll make sure t’send y’pictures from Italy," Harry called out from the hallway.

"And don't forget to spoil Milo a bit extra for me!" he added with a playful grin, the reassurance in his voice providing a small comfort amid the impending distance.

The day of his actual birthday, you woke up at seven am, which meant it was eight am for Harry.

It was a nice early face time call, in which you had called someone from the town near your shared beach house and got them to deliver flowers so they we’re scheduled to arrive whilst the two of you were calling, so you could see his face when he received them.

Little did he know, as the virtual celebration concluded, that you were already en route to Italy to surprise the love of your life.

His manager, Jeff, had orchestrated the clandestine journey, booking a flight that not only allowed your presence but accommodated Milo, your loyal puppy companion.

On the fairly empty flight, with just a few scattered passengers, you found solace in the quiet journey across the skies. Milo, nestled on the seat next to you, peacefully dozed off, completely unaware of the grand surprise awaiting his owner.

The hum of the plane engines provided a soothing backdrop as you envisioned the joy that would light up Harry's face when you appeared unexpectedly in celebration of his special day.

Upon landing in Italy, you and Milo were swiftly escorted off the plane by a discreet security team. The importance of maintaining the surprise for Harry became evident as the team efficiently navigated through the airport. The mission was clear: to whisk you away from the public eye, avoiding any chance of word spreading that Harry's wife had arrived.

Passing through passport control with just a carry-on bag in tow, the security team ensured a seamless transition. The anticipation heightened as you and Milo moved through the airport, surrounded by the subtle hum of secrecy. Every step taken was a careful manoeuvre to preserve the surprise and shield the unfolding celebration from prying eyes.

Exiting the airport, you were guided to a waiting jeep. The security team orchestrated a smooth transition, knowing that time was of the essence.

Jeff:

H just left for a meeting, so you’ve got at least an hour to get everything ready !!

As the jeep sped toward the villa, Jeff's text notification illuminated your phone screen. His message revealed that Harry was currently engrossed in a meeting, providing a valuable window of time to set up a birthday surprise.

The prospect of transforming the house into a beautiful haven of celebration filled you with excitement. Knowing you had at least an hour before Harry's return heightened the anticipation, and thoughts of his surprised expression fueled your determination.

The journey continued through the picturesque landscapes of Italy, the half-hour drive feeling like both an eternity and a heartbeat away from reuniting with Harry. Milo, sensing the energy, shifted restlessly in anticipation, adding an extra layer of warmth to the already charged atmosphere within the jeep.

The realization that the culmination of meticulous planning was drawing near only fueled your eagerness.

The mere thought of seeing Harry after two days of separation fueled your determination to make this surprise an unforgettable celebration of love and connection. The countdown to the reunion had begun.

"Here we are," the driver announced as the jeep came to a stop in front of the villa. You thanked him and handed over a ten-euro tip, expressing gratitude for the swift and discreet journey.

Grabbing Milo's leash and your bag, you stepped out into the Italian air, the scent of anticipation mingling with the promise of celebration.

As you approached the door, the distinct aroma of Harry's aftershave enveloped you, confirming his recent presence. A pair of his white vans neatly placed by the entrance hinted at the intimate details of his daily routine.

With a smile, you inserted the key into the lock, unlocking the door to a space filled with the essence of the man you dearly missed.

"Milo, we're home," you murmured to your furry companion, who eagerly bounded into the living room.

The atmosphere inside resonated with familiarity, and Milo, seemingly aware of the joyous occasion, leaped onto the sofa, his tail wagging in sync with the pulsating excitement in the air.

Upon stepping into the villa, you wasted no time. The suitcase that accompanied you served as a treasure trove of celebratory delights. With swift precision, you unzipped it, revealing an inflatable 3 and 0, along with vibrant banners that spelled out "Happy Birthday."

The living room became a canvas for your creativity, and the decorations unfolded in a dance of colors and joy.

Inflating the giant numbers, you strategically placed them to catch Harry's eye the moment he entered. The banners crisscrossed the room, creating a vibrant tapestry of celebration. The atmosphere transformed with each decoration, turning the space into a haven of love and festivity.

The decorating didn’t take long, maybe around half an hour, so that left you waiting, and each minute felt like hell.

You so badly just wanted him in your arms.

Seated in the midst of the festive setup, you pulled out your phone, eager to share the news of your safe arrival with your family. Fingers danced across the screen as you texted messages of reassurance and excitement, capturing the essence of this special moment.

The living room, now a symphony of color and joy, served as the backdrop to your messages, each tap echoing the anticipation of the grand birthday surprise awaiting Harry.

As you sat in the living room, engrossed in your phone, the jingling of keys outside signaled Harry's arrival. Swiftly, you rose from your seat, Milo by your side, his tail wagging in silent excitement.

Attempting to be as quiet as possible, you made your way to the entry hall, your heart pounding with anticipation. The festive atmosphere of the decorated living room served as a backdrop to the impending surprise.

Harry entered, shutting the door behind him with a sense of routine. His tote bag dropped to the floor, and in his initial distraction, he failed to notice the pair of women's shoes by the entrance.

His gaze scanned the surroundings briefly before turning away, only to snap back with wide eyes when he caught sight of you standing there.

His mouth parted in shock, a mixture of disbelief and joy washing over his face.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Harry processed the unexpected presence before him. The shock gave way to a radiant smile, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. Milo's tail wagged furiously, mirroring the palpable joy in the room.

Harry's initial shock dissolved into pure joy as he stared at you standing in the entry hall. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed over, gathering you into a tight embrace. The warmth of his arms enveloped you, an unspoken reassurance of the love that bridged the distance between you two. Your eyes welled up with tears, mirroring the emotion evident in his gaze.

"Happy birthday," you whispered, the words carrying the weight of your love and the joy of this surprise.

As Harry lifted his head, his lips sought yours in a cascade of affectionate kisses. Each press was a testament to the depth of the connection shared, a celebration of love that transcended the days of separation.

The room, filled with decorations and the silent witness of Milo, became a sanctuary for this spontaneous reunion.

In the midst of the kisses, Harry's laughter bubbled up, the sheer delight of the unexpected surprise washing over him.

"M’can't believe you're here," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy, wagged his tail energetically, completing the tableau of love and celebration.

“I couldn't not see you on your birthday," you admitted with a warm smile, still wrapped in Harry's embrace.

"Milo missed his daddy so much that we had to come and surprise you." You winked playfully, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips. "And, well, maybe I missed you a bit too."

Harry's eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Y’really came all the way here just for me?" he asked, his voice filled with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy in the room, barked in agreement, tail wagging enthusiastically.

Cupping his face in your hands, you responded, "Absolutely. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with the ones you love, and we couldn't let a few miles keep us apart, now could we?"

“But I’ve got meetings the entire day,”he pouted, head getting thrown back slightly. “But I wanna spend the entire day with you.”

You played with the peach fuzz at the back of his neck. “Well it’s a good job I’ve cleared your schedule then, huh?”

“Wait,”he snapped his head over to yours from where he was staring lovingly at Milo. “So I’ve got the whole day with you?”

“We’ve got the whole day together, baby.” You confirmed, watching as his dimples appeared on his face.

In need of a refreshment, you and Harry migrated to the kitchen. As he poured himself an ice-cold glass of water, you settled at the kitchen island, nibbling on a cracker slathered with butter.

Looking at Harry, you asked, "Any cravings for today?"

He grinned and replied, "Actually, I've been craving a nice stroll around the town with Milo. Maybe we can stop for some ice cream and, perhaps, a cheeky bottle of rouge."

Harry's eyes sparkled with the prospect of a leisurely day. He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining, and continued, "What do you think, love?"

You offered a small smile, well aware that your current circumstances limited certain indulgences. "Sounds lovely," you responded, playing with the cross necklace around his neck. "I'm up for a walk and some ice cream.”

The wine….not so much.

/ /

As the day wore on, bathed in the warm glow of the Italian sun, you changed into a pair of comfortable denim shorts and one of Harry's shirts, embracing the casual charm of the town. The borrowed shirt hung loosely on your frame, carrying the familiar scent that provided a comforting connection to Harry.

Together, hand in hand, you and Harry strolled along the old streets, a timeless backdrop for the unfolding birthday celebration.

Milo, ever the enthusiastic companion, trotted alongside, his leash held firmly in Harry's hand. The cobbled streets echoed with the gentle sounds of your footsteps, creating a serene melody as you explored the charming corners of the town.

The quaint architecture and rustic charm of the surroundings added a picturesque touch to the shared moments of the day.

The narrow alleyways led you to hidden gems and inviting cafés, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet treats filled the air.

Each step carried with it the promise of discovery and the joy of simply being together. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm hue over the town, and the leisurely pace of the day allowed you to savor the simple pleasures of the moment.

As you continued your leisurely walk through the charming streets of Italy, Milo suddenly stopped in his tracks, his nose diligently sniffing around the ground. With an amused grin, you watched as he searched for just the right spot to do his business.

After a moment of consideration, Milo found the perfect place, and you turned to Harry with a playful expression.

"Happy birthday to you," you teased, handing Harry the poo bag with a grin. He laughed and fake gagged, taking the bag with a theatrical expression of horror.

Milo, seemingly oblivious to the lighthearted banter, continued with his canine duties, contributing his unique birthday gift to the day's events.

Continuing your walk through the enchanting town, you and Harry engaged in easy conversation, the cadence of laughter punctuating the air. The narrow streets echoed with the shared joy of the day, every step deepening the connection between you two. Silly anecdotes and playful banter flowed freely, turning the casual stroll into a delightful journey of shared moments.

As you meandered through the old streets, each corner unveiled new surprises, and every twist and turn became an opportunity for discovery. The simple act of being together, immersed in the charm of the surroundings, fueled the laughter and strengthened the bond between you and Harry.

As you continued your stroll through the charming town, the sight of a small bistro with a quaint outdoor seating area caught Harry's eye.

"How about we grab a bite there? it looks like a nice spot," he suggested, nodding toward the bistro. You agreed with a smile, appreciating the thought of a cozy meal in such a picturesque setting.

Heading towards the entrance, you were met by a friendly waiter.

"How can I help you?" he inquired. Harry responded,

"Just a table outside, please." The waiter, with a welcoming smile, gestured for you to follow, leading you to a charming table nestled in the outdoor seating area. The sun cast a warm glow, creating an inviting ambiance for a leisurely meal.

Seated at the quaint table, Milo by your side, the waiter handed you the menus. "Browse through these, a waiter will be over shortly, and let me know if there's anything else you need," he offered before leaving you to peruse the options. The aroma of delectable dishes wafted through the air, enhancing the anticipation of a delightful meal in the heart of the town.

Harry, glancing at the menu, looked up at you with a playful grin.

"What are you in the mood for, m’love?" he asked.

You.

Wait what?

As you and Harry enjoyed the cozy atmosphere of the bistro, another waiter, a friendly woman with a welcoming smile, approached your table.

"Good evening! Do you know what you'd like to order?" she inquired, pen poised above her notepad.

Harry, ever decisive, was the first to respond.

"I'll have a glass of y’house red wine, please," he said, glancing at the wine list.

Turning to you, the waiter asked, "And for you, ma'am?"

You flashed a smile and softly shook your head.

"I'll just go for a fresh lemonade, please." Attempting to steer away any suspicion, you added, "Feeling like something light today."

Harry, catching the cue, chimed in, "Just a light and easygoing evening, you know?"

He winked at you, his eyes filled with playful complicity.

The waiter jotted down your drink orders and nodded. "Certainly, a glass of red wine and a fresh lemonade. Now, what can I get for your main courses?"

You perused the menu, deciding on a chicken salad, and Harry opted for the salmon antipasto. You exchanged glances, sharing a silent agreement on the choices. As the waiter collected your menu choices, she remarked,

"Excellent choices! Your orders will be out shortly. Enjoy your evening!"

With the waiter's departure, Harry leaned in with a teasing grin.

"A fresh lemonade, m’love? Feeling like a saint today, are we?" he quipped, his playful banter laced with affection.

You chuckled, playing along. "Well, saints need a refreshing drink too, don't they? Besides, I'm saving room for that delicious chicken salad."

Harry laughed, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. "Alright, alright, I won't question y’saintly decisions. S’just enjoy this lovely evening and the meal to come."

The waiter returned with your drinks about five minutes later, placing a glass of red wine in front of Harry and a refreshing lemonade for you. As she walked away, leaving you two to enjoy your beverages, you lifted your glass and initiated a spontaneous toast.

"Cheers to your birthday, my love," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with affection. "I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I love you. I can't wait to spend eternity together, celebrating moments like these."

Harry's gaze softened, and he blinked his glass against yours.

"To eternity and beyond," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "M’the luckiest person to have you by m’side. Here's to many more birthdays and unforgettable moments together."

The bistro's ambiance embraced the intimate exchange, and you continued to express your love and appreciation for Harry.

"You make every day special, but today, on your birthday, I want it to be extra magical for you," you confessed, your sincerity echoing in the quiet moments between sips of the refreshing lemonade.

Harry's smile widened, and he reached across the table to gently squeeze your hand. "Having y’here is the best gift I could ever ask for. Every moment with you is magical, and m’grateful for it all."

/ /

As the early evening settled around the villa, you found yourselves back in the comforting haven of your shared space. In the bathroom, bathed in a soft glow, you stood before the mirror, carefully removing mascara and eyeliner.

The simple act of cleansing away the day's makeup was a routine that marked the transition from daytime adventures to the quiet moments of the evening.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Harry lay on the bed, Milo nestled at his feet. He absentmindedly scratched at the short growth of hair on his head, a subtle reminder of a recent decision to shave it off.

The room radiated with a sense of tranquility as you each indulged in the rituals that marked the end of the day.

Wearing one of Harry's shirts that enveloped you in the familiar scent of him, you busied yourself in the bathroom, preparing a late evening birthday surprise.

The soft rustling sounds of your movements echoed against the backdrop of Harry's contemplative scratching, creating a harmony of shared space and intimate connection.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror before deciding it was time to return to the bedroom.

Your hands were discreetly behind your back, holding a late evening birthday surprise for Harry. As you stepped into the bedroom, Harry, already seated on the bed, noticed your presence and sat up, beckoning you with open arms.

"I want a cuddle," he declared, his eyes twinkling with a playful warmth. Unable to resist his endearing request, you let out a soft giggle at his baby-like antics.

Playfully, you approached the bed as he beckoned you forward.

Crawling onto the bed next to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his arms. You laid your head on his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart echoing comfort and love.

The anticipation of the surprise gift still hidden behind your back added an extra layer of excitement to the intimate moment.

"I missed you," Harry murmured, his voice a gentle caress. You pressed a kiss over his heart, savoring the warmth of the connection. His arms tightened around you, embracing the familiar comfort of being close.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at Harry with a warm smile, saying, "I've got one last present for you. Close your eyes."

Harry hesitated for a moment, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, before obediently shutting his eyes. With gentle steps, you moved towards him, the late evening's golden glow casting a soft ambiance around you.

In your hands, you held a delicate gift, and with a mix of hesitation and tenderness, you softly placed it in Harry's hands.

"Okay, open your eyes," you instructed, your heart fluttering with a secret that had the power to change your lives forever.

Harry blinked his eyes open, and as he glanced down at his hands, a flicker of confusion passed over his face. Then, his gaze landed on the small object nestled in his palms.

It took a moment for the realisation to sink in, and when he saw what it was, his eyes widened, and he gasped.

"What... is this?" Harry stammered, his voice shaky with emotion.

His trembling fingers picked up the small pregnancy test.

The room fell silent as the weight of the revelation settled in. Harry's eyes locked onto the test, and tears immediately welled up.

"S’this for real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't some sick joke, right?"

You shook your head, a mixture of joy and vulnerability in your gaze. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his, tears streaming down both your cheeks.

"It's true, H. I'm eleven weeks pregnant," you whispered, the magnitude of the moment engulfing you both in a wave of overwhelming emotions.

Harry's breath caught, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

"I... we're going to be parents?" he uttered, a mix of disbelief and elation in his voice.

A tender smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, Harry. We're going to be parents."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I can't believe it. M’going to be a dad," he mumbled against your hair, his voice filled with a joy that echoed through the room.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry leaned forward, his hand gently pressing against your stomach as if trying to connect with the new life growing within.

The tender touch conveyed a depth of love that words could only strive to express. His lips found yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, and as he pulled back, he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

“This is the best birthday ever,”he spoke, chocking out a soft sob. “Thank you m’love, thank you, thank you for making us parents.”

You softly placed your hands on his cheeks to get him to look at you, and when his green eyes met yours, you smiled at him tenderly.

“Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.”

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Trouble | Batfam x Batmom x Batsis

Synopsis: Vivian and Bruce get a call from Valerie's teacher and they are in it for a shock to know what their daughter and her big brothers’ did.

Vivian has been called by the homeroom teachers of Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian numerous times when they were still in school. Well, Damian is still in school and there are times when she would still get the call from them too for whenever he is a “smartass” (their words, not her, and she didn't appreciate the term too but they too claim that was what his classmates would call him). It was normal to be called for the antics they do and the words they use in school, they are exposed to many things at a young age with their duties as Robin. 

But when Valerie started school, while she did expect to get a call from her daughter's homeroom teacher once in a while, she didn't expect it to be something so serious that she would find her husband parking the same time she was at the school parking lot.

“You got the call too?” Vivian asked him.

“Yeah. Is it really that bad that we're both needed?” Bruce went to her side so they can head inside together. 

Vivian gave him an incredulous look, “What can a five-year-old do? This is preschool?”

“What did you do when you were five that got you in trouble?” 

Vivian shrugged. “I don’t know – I didn't stick around that much anyway, but I do remember telling my pre-school teacher to ‘fuck off’ and raised the middle finger at them too. And I remember biting my teacher's hand until it bled.”

“Any reason?”

“I was seven then, the school wouldn't admit it, but that teacher of mine was a creepy-pedo and he tried to touch me. My mom taught me a thing or two to spot them and when he got  a little handsy I bit it so hard the nurses said he needed stitches.”

“I don't think that's the case with Val, it better not be,” Bruce growled at the last part.

“If one of her teachers even touch her in a way they're not, I swear, they rather want Batman's justice than the Phoenix's.”

Bruce knew that to be true. In interrogations, Superman and Batman are called the good cop and the bad cop – the carrot and the stick. But with tougher cases, he prefers to bring in Vivian; they were bad cop and bad cop. The stick and the crowbar. And both scenarios he was the stick.

Arriving at Valerie's homeroom, they found their daughter sitting at her desk, alone, while drawing on a pad with crayons. After greeting Valerie's teacher, Vivian and Bruce went to their daughter to greet her. Valerie smiled at the sight of them and welcomed the kisses they placed on her cheeks.

“What happened, baby?” Vivian asked.

Valerie pouted and went back to her drawing.

Vivian and Bruce exchanged looks in confusion and worry. 

“Val, what are you drawing?” Bruce asked.

“Nothing,” Valerie muttered and continue to color on her drawing. 

“Mr. Wayne, Mrs. Pryor-Wayne, why don't we head here to talk?” Val's teacher gestured to her table at the very front where two seats were.

Leaving their daughter's side, Vivian and Bruce settled at the seats and asked what happened. Valerie's teacher went straight to the story, how the class was doing their paintings, and then – while the whole thing did start with Dalton Fallbrook putting on her hair and Valerie responded to flipping him over her shoulder, then her saying…

“What?” Bruce said, completely in shock.

“I just have to know, does Valerie usually hear that language at home?” 

Bruce turned to Vivian. His wife glared at him and said, “You know I stopped when Valerie was born!”

“You sometimes slip, Viv.”

“I do not! Besides, I don't use those in one go.”

“No one is pointing fingers, Mrs. Pryor-Wayne –” Valerie's teacher began.

“Tell him that! He's pointing fingers at me!” Vivian pointed her thumb at Bruce. “You know what – Val, baby, can you come over here for a sec?”

“Okay!” Valerie got up and went to her mother's side.

“Your teacher said you said a bad word –”

“Stupid fucking bitch,” Valerie said.

Bruce groaned and ran his hand down his face.

“Yes, yes, baby, no need to say it again. Don't ever say it again,” Vivian told her in a gentle voice. “I just want to know where did you… did you get it from me? From Mom?”

“No,” Valerie fiddled with the hem of her jacket.

“Then who, Val?” Bruce asked.

Oh the names she gave…

It made Bruce and Vivian sigh loudly and call everyone in their group chat to come to the manor.

~*~

“What's with the emergency call?” Dick asked, arriving at the sitting room.

“Yeah, I was at a job,” Jason walked in, and he went straight to where Val was to pick her up and swing her around. “Miss you, baby bird!”

“Jay!” Valerie giggled, but when he stopped she pouted and said: “I got in trouble.”

“Really? What did you do?”

“That is exactly what we're all going to talk about now,” said Vivian, who was standing there with Bruce and Alfred with the very latter holding a jar. A very familiar jar to Jason.

“Hey, isn't that the curse jar we had back then?” He asked Alfred. “I thought that broke.”

Setting down Valerie, the girl ran to where her mother was and sat on the couch between her parents. With everyone gathered – Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara – Vivian got to the point.

“Bruce and I were called to Val's pre-school earlier because of an incident,” she began.

“Who's the kid who needs a beating?” Jason asked.

“No one… Val already beat him up.”

“What did he do?” Damian crossed his arms over his chest.

Valerie pouted. “He pulled on my hair.”

“That's it,” Damian was about to leave but Dick held him down.

“Like Vivian said, Valerie already handled the situation,” Bruce said.

“How?” Tim asked, very much curious, like the others.

“She flipped him over her shoulder,” Vivian answered. And before they could celebrate, she added, “Then she said a very very bad word which she said she learned from you all.”

“Which is?” Tim asked.

Before Vivian could say, Valerie said: “Stupid fucking bitch!”

Silence came to the room. One that was so fragile that a simple tap would break, and it did break when Dick and Jason laughed so loudly. 

“It is not a laughing matter, Master Dick, Master Jason!” Alfred told them.

“Come on, Alfred, it is a little funny,” Jason shrugged.

Seeing Dick and Jason were laughing because of what she said, Valerie repeated it: “Stupid fucking bitch!”

Dick and Jason laughed again.

“Val, let’s not say that word again,” Duke tried to get her to stop.

“Well, I think this answers the question we were going to ask on who taught her that,” Vivian crossed her arms over her chest.

“Come on! We're not the only ones who say that!” Dick said. “I use ‘Damian’ whenever I'm in deep shit.” And he does, Dick would always say: “You stupid piece of… Damian.” instead of shit.

“Hey!” Damian exclaimed.

“It's not like I taught her how to use it!” Jason said.

They turned to Tim. 

Tim sat up. “I would never! Sure, do I curse whenever the gremlin pisses me off, but that doesn't mean I would sit down and teach her how to use it.”

They turned to Stephanie, she said to all of them: “Hey! The only thing I taught Val is how to do puzzles and riddles!”

Then to Barbara. 

“No,” Barbara simply said.

Then to Damian.

Damian glared at them. “I wouldn't – not to Val.”

“Okay, so no one taught Val how to curse,” Bruce sighed in relief.

“Hey, how come no one questioned Cass and Duke?” Jason said.

“Do you really think they would curse around Val?” Tim raised a brow at him.

They were sure a halo appeared atop the heads of Cassandra and Duke.

“So, that means, she just learned how to use it after hearing us use them,” Vivian groaned. “Right, to fix this we agreed to bring back an old thing we had in the Manor… Jason is familiar with this since it was with him this started.”

“A curse jar?” Damian snorted. “Like that will work. I don't see Todd having the cleanest mouth of us all.”

“You have no idea the innuendo that has, do you?” Stephanie smirked.

“The what?” 

Before Stephanie could explain, Alfred coughed, catching their attention, and pointed to Valerie's direction. There was a child present!

Jason snickered. “Is it still a dollar per curse word?”

“I don't like that tone, wanna make it five per curse word?” Vivian raised a brow at them.

“No!” They all exclaimed.

“Sure about that, Ma? Last time, the both of us were neck-a-neck with our donations to the curse-jar.”

“And that money got us to buy the new television that broke down,” said Alferd. “And some items in our grocery list.”

It was in Jason's time in the manor that Bruce realized he was paying so little for groceries and wondered how much cursing Vivian and Jason do around the manor. So much that it could pay for groceries and a T.V..

“So, any more cursing, we put a dollar here,” Vivian pointed to the jar. “So, before we start, wanna get something out?” She covered Valerie's ears. “Now is the time.”

Damian raised his hand. “Who was the bastard who messed with Val? I'll fuckign kill him.”

“You're not going to kill anyone – besides, he's a kid!” Bruce told Damian.

Jason raised his hand. “Did Val really flipping off the fucker?”

“Yes, she did. And I'm proud of her for it. The little shit deserved it anyway,” Vivian said.

Dick raised his hand. “Can I go now? I need to take a Damian.”

“I hate you, Grayson,” Damian glared at Dick.

Tim raised a hand. “Shit. Fuck. Bitch… that's it, just wanna get that out.”

Vivian sighed. “Anyone else who wants to get it out of their system?” 

No one said they were good.

“Alright, from now on,” Alfred began. “If anyone curses, it will be fined a dollar. It starts now.”

Silence came to the manor.

Valerie got down the couch and went to Damian, “Play?” she asked him.

“Homework first then we play,” Damian told her.

Valerie huffed and agreed to his terms.

When they left, Jason turned to Vivian, “How come she goes to the gremlin to play? The little fucker knows nothing about playing house!”

Alfred and Bruce sighed and held out the jar to him.

Jason grumbled and shoved two dollars.

“That's a dollar too much,” said Bruce.

“Yeah, because I paid for the next one. This is a shitty plan, didn't stop me from calling you—” he dropped another dollar “— you a piece of shit, B.” 

Silence again.

“So,” Tim began. “Does this also apply to patrols?”

An idea popped in Bruce, Vivian, and Alfred's head, and the smirks on their faces made everyone else groan. Annoyed with the new rule. 

[botlabyrinth]

ok i’m thinking many thoughts stick with me here yall

“power and glory and nothing else matters.”

and “olympians fight. we betray. we backstab. we will push anyone down a flight of stairs to get ahead.”

this is the essence of the gods’ way of thinking. which is why sally says about percy that:

“i want him to know who he is, before your family tries to tell him who they want him to be.”

she doesn’t want percy to be like that. she doesn’t want him to be ruthless and willing to hurt anyone just for personal gain. she wants him to be considerate and human and kind.

and now throw in annabeth saying: “it’s easy to forget what’s important when you’re alone.”

and how the gods, in a way, are alone. they are immortal, disconnected from humanity, millions of years old. they lose touch of what’s important because of their immortality.

and guess who else is alone. luke.

luke doesn’t get to figure out who he is before he’s thrown into the demigod world. he loses his mother, in every way that matters, so young. he gets thrown into being on the run, into fending for himself, into going to camp. he sees the way the gods are and he turns angry as a result. and in doing so, luke becomes who the gods would want him to be. “power and glory and nothing else matters��� is what is eventually luke’s whole motive. he may have the same intentions as percy: to bring justice to demigods, to help the unclaimed, to get their parents’ attention. but he doesn’t go about it the right way. he does it the way the gods would. he lets kronos tell him who he should be. he chooses violence and anger and wants to take down the gods entirely. get rid of everything, good or bad, and let kronos take over.

but percy, because his mom didn’t send him to camp so young, does get to figure out who he is. he learns about unconditional love. he learns that there is more to life than power and glory. he isn’t that way. he’s better than that. because sally didn’t send him to camp at a young age. because he got to figure out who he is before the gods could tell him who they want him to be. because he has that humanity, that unconditional love, that support from sally. he still has the same idea as luke: the gods shouldn’t be allowed to birth a bunch of children just to ignore them and leave them to fend for themselves. but he is never swayed onto kronos’s side. he doesn’t think the destruction of the olympians is the answer to solve that. he works to dismantle the broken system. instead of taking immortality as the reward for saving olympus, he uses his reward to force the gods to swear that they will be different. that they will stop leaving their kids to fight for themselves. he does this because of his humanity, because of sally jackson. because he doesn’t become who the gods want him to be. because his mother raised him right.

[iloveelvisss]

Hiiiii!!! If you have time, I would like to request a fic of cowboy!Elvis X shy!reader.

Now, this one can be a little blurb or a whole fic, I do not mind, whatever makes you comfortable girliee 🫶

Where reader is entering a bar(could be in modern times) from being on the road for 6 hours straight moving to a new house in another state and when she's walking around shyly, trying to be as small as possible, Elvis notices her and immediately becomes obsessed with her and decides to go flirt?

Kinda random but I think that would be so cute🤭

Take all the time you need!❤️

Awww, ofccc!!! Love this just like I love talking to you about our man💓. Hope I can do you justice with this!!!

Cute lil’ cowboy (Elvis fic)

Pairing: cowboy!Elvis x shy!Reader

Summary: While driving to your new home, you stop in at a small town bar, just wanting a break from the long trip. You catch the eye of a certain local cowboy and he tries his hand at opening you up.

Warnings/triggers: None, I don’t think. Mostly just fluff💓

At this point, you sort of wished you’d said no to the job offer. All it was, was a secretary position for some big company, and you thought now that you’d been on the road for six whole hours, that your old job was much better. And your old apartment was quite comfortable (it wasn’t, you just wanted another thing to complain about on this torturous car trip).

So as you pulled into the next town, you park your car outside a quaint little bar. The town is small, and it’s quite obvious, but you desperately need a break from this awful drive, so you get out anyways.

But your introverted self regrets it as you enter the bar, and the little bell on the door alerts every patron of your out-of-place presence. Every single pair of eyes zero in on you, and you suddenly feel as though you can’t breathe. You’ve always been shy— your mother always tried to get you out of such a habit. But in situations like being in a bar in a town you’ve never been before, with people that look like they’re judging your every move, you lose your ability to speak— or look up from the floor.

Unbeknownst to you, one particular pair of eyes can’t look away, even after everyone else has went back to minding their own business. Elvis just thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous. The way you so obviously feel uncomfortable is just adorable to him. He wants to talk to you— no needs to talk to you. He wants to know who’s under the cute little shy cover. You intrigue him in a way no other passing-through woman has.

He saunters over to you, and he’s keen on the way your eyes widen— it makes him smile. He tips his hat as he sits beside you. “Hi there. Ain’t seen ya before, what’s yer name, darlin’?” He makes sure to pile on the charm, putting on his most attractive smile.

And then there’s a large amount of time where he just gets to watch you sputter and act like a child that can’t speak yet. But all the while he’s smiling, finding your shyness endearing.

Finally, after what feels like an agonizingly long time, you sigh and find your words, “I- I’m… I’m Y/N. S’ nice to meet you,” you smile cutely and awkwardly stick out your hand, to which he presses a soft kiss to. “Aw, well that’s a pretty name for pretty lil’ thing like you. My name is Elvis,” he sets your hand down and then stuns you with piercing eye contact— his eyes are absolutely beautiful, so blue and electric. “Now, what brings ya in here?”

You look around before attempting to maintain eye contact again. “Needed a break from my road trip. I’m moving for a job.” You smile back at him and he swears it almost makes him drop dead. He nods along, “I see, I see. So ya wanna ‘nother drink, darlin’? S’ on me.”

It’s about then that you backtrack on your earlier thoughts, and are actually quite grateful you stopped in here. You also find yourself wondering what his pretty lips would be like to kiss. He seems to notice because a small smirk shows up on said lips. You shake yourself from your trance, “U- um, yes. Yeah, that’d be great, thank you so much.” You stumble over your words, embarrassed you’d been caught staring. He notices your blush, but it only makes him smirk even more.

He nods and asks the bartender, who you now know is Albert, for two beers. And then for the next thirty minutes, he pulls out all the tricks to get you out of your shell— it works. You’re giggling and talking and having an amazing time by the time you finish your beer.

You look up from a giggling fit to his eyes piercing into you with an expression you can quite place. All you know is that it sends butterflies flying through your belly. “What…?”

Your tone is nervous, thinking maybe he’s lost interest or something, or that your laugh has made him question himself— you’ve always been a chronic overthinker. But he makes you gasp as he reaches up and pushes some of your hair behind your ear.

His voice is gentle and sweet— reverent, “I wanna kiss ya. Would ya like that, honey?”

Your breath leaves you and you just stare at him with wide eyes for at least two minutes. He starts to pull away, second-guessing himself, as you begin nodding. He then smiles dazzlingly.

It seems like the world stops as he leans in. His lips feel plush and oh so amazing as they press against yours. You respond almost immediately, and fireworks shoot off.

When he pulls back, he’s already grinning. “How ‘bout ya jus’ get back on the road in the mornin’? My house makes for a great hotel.”

You find yourself giggling yet again as you nod, “I think that’s a great idea. Thank you, Elvis.”

I’ve come to the realization that I just don’t like any of my writing and I’m my biggest critic, but I wanted to get this out like I promised. Much love to all of you lovies, and I hope you might enjoy anyway?😋🤠 (also Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates).

Tags: @queenstarlight @jhoneybees (lmk if you wanna be added)

[spahhzy]

ArcFall Kid 3: Eldest Sister, your time on the Nintendo has expired...

ArcFall Kid 1: That's Hogwash, brother... your ambition is greater than a virgin in a brothel... find your entertainment elsewhere.

ArcFall Kid 3: You will allow me time on the Nintendo... or I will report your transgressions to mother.

ArcFall Kid 1: Over a silly game you would bring mother into this? You mad dog!

ArcFall Kid 3: The sweetest of dogs can turn to wolves when cornered! Don't make me bite.

ArcFall Kid 1: Very well, we can play together. uhm, here's your controller. *hands him a ps5 controller*

ArcFall Kid 3: My character will not follow my orders, sister...

ArcFall Kid 1: No, no, no! See, you're playing, you're playing, you're right there. *points to NPC*

ArcFall Kid 3 looks at his controller and at his sister's controller.

ArcFall Kid 3: Why is my controller a different color than yours? Is it a bastard?

ArcFall Kid 1: No, No! It's a very special handpicked from the gods, and it's better than mine!

ArcFall Kid 3: Sister, do you take me for a fool?

ArcFall Kid 1 realized she got caught.

ArcFall Kid 3: It's not even turned on!

ArcFall Kid 1: Brother-

ArcFall Kid 3: I have been hoodwinked...bamboozled...HORNSWOGGLED...RUN AMOK!

ArcFall Kid 1: Brother! I swear this was not of my knowledge!

ArcFall Kid 3 glares at his oldest sister before walking over to the outlet, where the switch was plugged to the TV.

ArcFall Kid 3: Then I have no choice.

ArcFall Kid 1: Brother....what are you conspiring?

ArcFall Kid 3: You're Tyranny has gone on far enough!

ArcFall Kid 1: What of my progress!?

ArcFall Kid 1: I have not saved this game! All of my work will be gone in the name of petty revenge!

ArcFall Kid 3: You call it petty, I call it justice. *unplugs game*

ArcFall Kid 1 stares darkly at ArcFall Kid 3.

ArcFall Kid 1: Brother, you've lost your head...*balls hand into a fist* But I can help you find it.

ArcFall Kid 3 inches to the door, ready to run.

ArcFall Kid 1: You have three seconds.

She holds up her hand.

ArcFall Kid 1: One...Two...Three

ArcFall Kid 3 was out the door as his eldest sister gave chase.

[korrahegao]

Mel Medarda is Kayle

Edit: This post does NOT contain spoilers or leaks for Arcane Season 2 Act 3. These are all just theories I have in regards to the season thus far.

The season finale is almost upon us, so this is my last chance to get this out. Allow me to explain:

When we last saw Mel, she had been captured by the Order of the Black Rose. While Arcane hasn't expounded much on this organization, we hear the voice tormenting her in her captivity call her: "Sister." I believe this is the voice of Morgana. More specifically, Blackthorn Morgana.

This Morgana skin shares so many design themes and even the color pallet of the thorny vines and spiked chains and even the rosebud motif of the Oculorum. Not to mention the obvious relation between Roses and Thorns (Black Rose and Blackthorn). Even her League of Legend Abilities; Dark Binding, Tormented Shadow, and Soul Shackles are comparable to their in game VFX.

Which brings us to Kayle. In the League of Legends lore, Kayle and Morgana are sisters with an animosity toward one another. Using this as a basis without diving into the deep lore, there are many aspects about Mel Medarda which lend some explanation to the events of Arcane.

At first glance, one can see the similarities in Mel's attire and that of Silver Kayle.

Moreover, Mel Medarda sports Golden filagree along her back and shoulders. These appear to accentuate (or perhaps inhibit) where Kayle's wings and pauldrons would be. Perhaps they are not merely decorative, but serve a deeper purpose.

As many who play LoL know, Kayle's Ultimate is Divine Judgement. Kayle protects herself or an ally granting them invulnerability before exploding in a luminous blast of holy fire.

Furthermore, In S2E1 when Jayce is explaining to Mel how he is trying to save Viktor, Jayce states:

"It should be me up there, instead of him. I still don't understand. He was right next to me. How does the explosion do that to him, and I just walk out without a scratch?!"

And perhaps more importantly, in S1E9, in the final scene, Mel Medarda is the one nearest to the window that Jinx's Super Mega Death Rocket shatters. Mel was in fact the one nearest to the epicenter of the Blast! But the penultimate image we see in Season one is... her golden filagree gleaming!

She and Jayce were unscathed because, perhaps subliminally or subconsciously, she was able to save herself and Jayce, the ally nearest to her, with her Divine Judgement. Councilor Salo lost his legs, and the other Councilwoman received scarring near her eye. And yet, Mel and Jayce were unharmed!

Lastly, the League of Legends wiki is undergoing an overhaul as Riot continues to implement the notion that "Everything is canon." There is a blurb on her wiki which reads:

This explanation is inline with Mel Medarda casting aside her humanity as pictured in the last scene we saw her in (S2E5) thus far. Historically, Kayle had been interpreted as an angelic figure. But the continually evolving lore of League of Legends eventually let to the implementation of her humanity. Further, the line about "her mother's mantle as the divine Aspect of Justice" does have a slight connotation toward Ambessa. At the end of S2E3, when endowing Caitlyn to her elevated position, she states:

"Your mother will have Justice. I swear it."

While this began as a gut reaction to Season 2 Episode 5, the more I delved into it, the more it grew into a coherent working theory. Now, I have no idea how the end of Arcane is going to play out, but there is an abundance of evidence here, and I actually am hoping this is the outcome!

Did I leave anything out? Anything to further prove this theory? Let me know! And thanks for reading!

[lunareclipse39]

The Princes' Whore

Finally, Aemond and Daemon agree on one thing: their desire and obsession to conquer Princess Sameria Martell, the Dornish beauty with rumored Valyrian descent, and a unique gift.

Warning: Smut, violence, swearing and graphic descriptions

Aemond

This is single-handedly the worst day of my life. I am to marry, not to my beautiful little sister Alyonna, but to a Dornish princess by the name of Sameria. She is the niece of Prince Qoran Martell, and daughter of Aran Martell, younger brother of Prince Qoran. I have never seen this princess, though they say Dornish women are renowned for their beauty, and their promiscuity.

"The Princess Sameria is almost here, Aemond. Be kind, be courteous, and attentive." My mother spoke, as we stood in the courtyard of the Red Keep, waiting for this Dornish girl to arrive.

I sighed. "Why am I even to marry her, anyway? Dorne has declared neutrality, so I do not see why this marriage is necessary."

"This marriage is not to secure an alliance, but rather to maintain the Martells' neutrality, to keep them from changing their minds and joining the war, and joining Rhaenyra's side." My mother explained.

I rolled my eyes. A guard screamed, "Princess Sameria of Dorne has arrived! Open the gates!"

The large, iron gates creaked open, as an elaborate carriage carried by the famous Dornish sand steeds marched through, more sand steeds riding behind. My poor sister Alyonna would have wanted to see this, but she is busy with her history lessons with her septa, and I am glad she is. I do not want her to see me court this princess.

The carriage came to a stop, the sand steeds, in all their bright white splendor, neighing at the sudden halt. A knight of House Martell opened the carriage's door, and held out his hand for the princess I presume. A golden tan hand grasped the hand of the knight, and a young woman carefully stepped out, dressed in a dark red gown embroidered in copper, and as her gaze lifted I nearly gasped. Princess Sameria was indeed an exotic beauty, her dark chocolate curls framing her heart-shaped face and bringing out her sapphire eyes.

"Princess Sameria of House Martell, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." My mother smiled.

"My Dowager Queen, I thank you and King Aegon for your welcome." The princess spoke, her voice velvety, and curtsied.

"This is my son, your betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen." My mother introduced.

"My Prince." The princess curtsied.

I offered her a smile. "My Princess. The rumors of your beauty do not do you justice." I flattered her, not an ounce of sincerity in my words, but hopefully she'd be foolish enough to believe them.

The princess turned pink, and smiled. "Thank you, my Prince."

I offered her my arm, her orange fragrance reaching my nostrils. Yes, Dorne, especially Sunspear, is quite known for producing blood oranges. I led her inside the Keep, her eyes admiring her surroundings.

Sameria

I am to marry Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of the late King Viserys I Targaryen, brother to King Aegon II, although who truly rules the Seven Kingdoms is being debated, or more like warred, between two factions of House Targaryen, known as the Greens, King Aegon's faction, and the Blacks, Queen Rhaenyra's faction. It is all so stupid. Personally I do not care for this war, as does the rest of Dorne, so you may be wondering why I am marrying Prince Aemond.

My father insists we have the blood of Old Valyria in our veins, that we are descended from the extinct House Belaerys of the Valyrian Freehold, and that I must marry into our ancestry through the Targaryens, and perhaps even claim a dragon of my own. My father is crazy, but so am I for agreeing to this. I believe my father, strangely enough, and both of us speak High Valyrian fluently, as well as Dothraki, due to our many travels to Essos, where both languages are spoken in just about every city, but especially the Free Cities: Myr, Volantis, and Lys. Volantis is my favorite.

I was on my way to King's Landing to meet my betrothed, and we were almost there. I was accompanied by my cousin, Aliandra, whom I like to call the little fireball, my older sister Nerissa, and my brother, Ardan.

"I hear Prince Aemond caused the war." Aliandra spoke.

"How so?" I raised my eyebrow.

"They say he killed his nephew, the Prince Lucerys Velaryon." Aliandra gushed.

I snorted. "Please."

"No, she's right." Nerissa chimed in. "I heard the same rumors. Aemond chased Lucerys on his dragon through the skies of Storm's End, trying to get him to pay for taking his eye out."

"What a gruesome tale." I said, horrified.

"But no less true, or so they say. Honestly I do not blame Aemond." Aliandra shrugged.

"Killing Prince Lucerys was excessive, don't you think?" Nerissa gulped.

"Maybe, but I also did hear he never got punished, so Aemond's anger is understandable." Aliandra shrugged again.

We suddenly stopped, and I heard someone announce our arrival, followed by the sound of gates creaking open.

"We're here!" Aliandra squealed.

The carriage moved again, then stopped, and the horses neighed. One of our guards opened the door, beckoning me to step out. I grasped onto his hand and carefully stepped out of the carriage onto the courtyard of the famous Red Keep. I looked around, then my eyes met those of Prince Aemond, my would-be husband. He is terrifyingly handsome, the eye patch covering his wound making him look all the more intimidating.

Dowager Queen Alicent greeted me warmly, and introduced me to Aemond, who was rather cold but polite. He complimented my beauty, and I thanked him. I took his arm as he led me inside the Keep, while Dowager Queen Alicent introduced herself to my party, and welcomed them. They'd be staying with me for tonight, but would leave tomorrow afternoon.

"Is this your first time in King's Landing, my Lady?" Aemond asked.

"No, but it is in the Keep." I nodded.

"Do you like King's Landing?"

"I do, actually. Not more than Sunspear, but I do like it. It has its charm." I shrugged.

"And what is its charm?" Aemond wondered.

"It's lively, the people are kind, and there's a fair amount of entertainment." I said.

"Yes, and it's also filthy, especially Flea Bottom, and a lot of the people are dirty." Aemond scrunched his nose in disgust.

I gulped. "Well, you can't really blame the poor for not having access to cleanliness."

Aemond scoffed, about to retort, but that is when his demeanor changed suddenly. His face brightened, a wide grin stretching across his lips. I followed his gaze to a beautiful young girl, no older than thirteen, with wispy silvery white hair, round, bright violet eyes, her royal blue and gold-embroidered gown billowing with her as she ran towards Aemond, enveloping him in a hug.

"Aly!" Aemond purred, as Aly pulled away, turning to me.

"This is my betrothed." Aemond tightened, and swallowed. "Sameria Martell, a princess of Dorne. My Lady, this is Alyonna, or Aly, my little sister." Aemond introduced.

"It is so nice to finally make your acquaintance, princess. Word of you has gone around and no one can shut up." Alyonna gushed, beaming.

I grinned. "It is nice to meet you too, my Lady."

"Princess." Aemond corrected.

"It's alright. I am a lady, dear brother." Alyonna giggled.

"Apologies, princess." I blushed.

"No need to apologize. My brother is simply uptight." Alyonna teased.

"Am I?" Aemond frowned.

"Yes." Alyonna mocked. "Are you showing her around the Keep?"

"Indeed, sweet sister. She is to be my wife so she must know her new home. Where's Aerys, anyway?" Aemond asked.

"Training with Ser Criston." Alyonna shrugged.

"I see." Aemond turned to me. "Aerys is the youngest brother, and twin to Aly here."

"I look forward to meeting the rest of your family, my Prince." I nodded.

"Right. Aly, I will finish showing the Red Keep to Lady Sameria here. I shall see you at the banquet."

Aly smiled and nodded, running off. "She is lovely." I spoke.

"Yes, she is." Aemond nodded.

I was shown the dining hall, the banquet hall, the library, the armory, and of course, the throne room. The Iron Throne loomed menacingly in the distance, making me gulp. I dislike the sight of it. Such thing is the source of many tragedies and suffering, like right now.

Aemond proceeded to showing me his late father's chambers, where a model of clay about the Valyrian Freehold stood on a mahogany desk, making me beam.

"This is amazing! Who made this?" I wondered.

"My father, before he got sick and died." Aemond said bitterly.

"Oh. I am sorry." I looked down.

"Don't be." Aemond shook his head.

I see Aemond disliked his father, and thought it best not to ask questions. Not now anyway. I nodded. "Your father was quite a skilled potter. These figurines are very detailed."

"Yes. If only his skill at pottery had transcended into his reign, then perhaps we wouldn't be in this mess." Aemond spat.

"I take it you do not like your father." I mumbled.

"You're wrong. I hated him." Aemond shrugged.

This is getting uncomfortable. "I am sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It is a good thing he is dead. He preferred to be shut inside here tending to his figurines and obsessing over Old Valyria than to his duties to the realm." Aemond said bitterly.

"He would have gotten along with my father then." I shrugged. "My father is also obsessed with Old Valyria, even claims our line is descended of Valyrian blood, the reason he agreed to our marriage in the first place. Right now though, his obsession has transpired to the Empire of the Dawn."

"And do you believe it? That you have the blood of Old Valyria?" Aemond mused.

"Not really, no." I admitted.

"And why did you agree to the marriage?" Aemond asked.

"Well, I am a highborn lady. I was bound to marry sooner or later." I said simply.

"You could have married a Dornish lord, or any lord." Aemond crossed his arms.

"Yes, but why have a lord when you can have a prince?" I winked.

Aemond did not return my grin, but his eyes did shine with amusement.

"Shall we? I will show you my chambers, then yours." Aemond extended his hand.

I nodded. Aemond's chambers were dimly lit, the decor quite dark and solemn, but he did have a beautiful view of the capital. We then stopped in front of a jade green door.

"These used to be Rhaenyra's chambers, but now they are yours. I do think you'll find them spacious and accommodating enough." Aemond said, pushing the door open to reveal a most spacious room indeed, furnished with a bed big enough for two people, the covers and decorative pillows emerald green in color with gold embroidery. The headrest and bedposts were made of dark oak, and I did have a large, arched window overlooking the gardens and the sea in the distance. My trunks had already been brought inside, making me smile. This was the room planned for me all along.

"Well, this marks the end of our tour. Do get ready for your welcome banquet, my Lady." Aemond kissed my hand and dismissed himself.

I blushed, and smiled. Perhaps marriage will not be so bad. Aemond may be cold and stern, but I believe a softer, more caring side of him lies beneath, shown towards his sister earlier. In time he shall show me the same side.

I opened my trunks, which were overflowing with my belongings. I will miss Dorne, and Sunspear, but I understand I am a highborn lady with noble duties, one of those duties being marriage, and later, heirs. I gulped. I am not sure I want children yet. I brought many dresses and gowns with me, as well as shoes, undergarments, and jewelry. A knock on the door startled me, and I yelled "come in!".

Nerissa stepped inside, marveling at the room. "You were given quite the room, sister."

"I know." I shrugged, choosing a gown for the banquet tonight.

"I shall help you get ready." Nerissa offered.

I smiled. "Of course."

I wore a cobalt blue gown, held by a copper necklace as the rest of the fabric flowed down, reaching my ankles. Nerissa slid two copper, snake-like bracelets up into each one of my arms, and then I slid my feet into copper sandals. She led me to the vanity, as I sat down and she brushed my hair, letting it down and adorning it with a wreath of sun roses, a flower unique to Dorne, but specifically Sunspear. Sun roses are gold, dark pink, and orange-hued, creating a dance of sunset colors in them. They are beautiful, and smell so nice.

Nerissa bathed me in blood orange mist, and I was ready.

"You look beautiful." Nerissa smiled.

"Thank you, sister."

Aemond

The banquet was ready, as all of us gathered in the dining hall, waiting for the princess Sameria to arrive. She did after a little while, wearing a most revealing dress that complimented her sapphire gaze. I see Dornish fashions are of a... never mind. Sameria will have to start dressing more modestly, and more like a princess and not a whore from the bowels of the capital.

My brother greeted Sameria, a brazen smile on his lips and lust shining in his eyes. Of course my brother will lust after the Dornish princess. He better keep his hands to himself and not humiliate me in public.

"Tonight we welcome the Princess Sameria Martell, as she will join our family soon by marrying my brother, Prince Aemond. May your union be one of love and laughter, and bring forth many heirs." My brother joked, making the others laugh.

"Let us toast to their union, and of course, to the princess." My brother raised his cup.

We all followed suit, drinking and setting our cups down.

"I thank you, King Aegon, for your most warm welcome. I am counting the days I pledge my love for Prince Aemond in sight of the gods, and that I finally join your beautiful family." Sameria smiled, turning to me.

I smiled back, not looking forward to our wedding day at all, and glanced at Alyonna. My beautiful, darling, sweet sister, whom my heart beats for. I have protected her since she was small, she has been my constant companion, she is meant for me, and I for her, and I would sooner burn every last bit of this world than see her marry another man. I will never forgive my mother for forcing me into this marriage. She knows of my feelings towards Alyonna, but dismissed me and insisted two sibling marriages cannot happen at once, due to fear of the gods. Fuck the gods I say.

The feast commenced, and I watched Sameria, who sat in front of me, chat with her cousin animatedly. Mother blames me for starting this war, and it is the true reason she is punishing me by forcing me to marry the Dornish girl. Her excuse of not wanting to anger the Seven is nothing but a farce. I still say fuck the gods. Nobody has ever been punished by them for misbehaving. They certainly didn't punish Lucerys for taking out my eye. No, I had to do the punishing myself.

Musicians came in, carrying lutes and a harp with them. My brother stood up as soon as music started playing, and he held his hand out to Helaena, who gleefully accepted. My mother and grandsire Otto watched them with amusement, and knowing how much Aly loves to dance, I stood up from my seat and offered her my hand.

"Care to dance, sweet sister?" I asked.

"Absolutely." She grinned, taking my hand as I led her near Aegon and Helaena.

We danced, slowly at first, then increased our speed a little. The music came to an end, and we all cheered.

"My sister here is an exceptional dancer. Sameria, show them. Go on." Nerissa beckoned at her sister, who blushed deeply and shook her head.

"Don't get all shy now. You dance very well and you know it." Nerissa nudged her sister, who sighed and nodded, standing up.

Alyonna went back to her seat as I hesitantly offered my hand to Sameria. The music resumed and we started dancing. Sameria was in fact a great dancer, moving along the music as though she could feel it, leaving me to look stupid alongside her. I am just not a dancer, only with Aly am I one.

The music stopped again, and everyone cheered for us. "Any other talents we might know in your possession, my Lady?" My brother wondered.

"Yes, your Grace. I am an accomplished cook, even more so than dancing." Sameria replied.

Impressed eyes went about, but mine were more curious. A noblewoman who cooks is certainly unusual. Helaena stood up from her seat, turning to Aly.

"Aly, dearest, you should bless us with your singing tonight. The princess Sameria and her companions would love to listen to you sing."

I smiled. Alyonna has the most beautiful, ethereal voice there is, and radiates the purest, most goddess-like energy when she sings. Aly stood up, and whispered something to the musicians, who nodded. 'Maiden, Mother, Crone' started playing from the stringed instruments of the musicians, soon joined by my sister's sweet, melodic voice. I closed my eyes, smiling. I could listen to her sing all day.

Aly finished singing, as all of us broke into applause. I stood up and hugged her, kissing her cheek.

"That was beautiful." Mother smiled.

"Your voice is a gift from the Seven themselves, darling." Grandsire complimented.

"Indeed it is." I agreed.

Sameria

After the feast, or banquet, was over, we all headed to our respective chambers for bedtime. As I walked towards mine, I heard the muffled voices of King Aegon and Aemond in the throne room. With my curiosity peaked, I hid behind a pillar, spotting King Aegon lounging on the Iron Throne, with Aemond sitting next to him in the seat of the Hand.

"Why are you even complaining? She's beautiful, and exotic." Aegon slurred, clearly drunk.

"I know she's beautiful, and exotic, but no woman compares to my Aly. She is a goddess personified, and meant to be mine." Aemond said, playing with the tips of his hair.

My eyes widened in horror, and a strange feeling bubbled up inside me. I had heard of the Targaryens' incestous practices, but to hear it firsthand... disgust welled up inside me.

Aegon laughed. "Brother, please. Marrying sisters is boring and devoid of life. Just look at me and Helaena."

"That is because you never make an effort to bond with our sister, your Grace." Aemond said sarcastically. "I bet if you did your marriage would be much different, and enjoyable. The bond Aly and I have is different, indescribable, but feels like home."

"You're being stupid, and ungrateful. What I'd give to have such an exotic woman as my wife." Aegon scoffed.

"If you like her so much you marry her." Aemond retorted.

"I would if I wasn't married to Helaena." Aegon shrugged.

"Besides, Dornish women are known to, you know, have sexual adventures before marriage." Aemond crossed his arms.

Aegon grinned. "Even better! You get a woman with experience. I bet the princess Sameria is a wild cat in bed." He winked.

I nearly gagged, and clenched my fists. I was listening to the king, or king presumptive, and his brother, my betrothed, say disgusting things about me. Even worse, my would-be husband was in love with his sister.

[djarinslover]

The Story Of Us

Here is the ask where this fic was born. Thank you to my sweet patient anon, you're the best. I hope I did your idea justice!

Pairing; Nami x Fem!Reader (no y/n, sliiight description of reader being shorter)

Warnings; canon violence, TW for queer being used as a slur, swearing

Word Count; 1.8k

You and Nami had been childhood friends, the two of you playing at the edge of the tangerine grove, making tangerine windmills with Nojiko and their mother. Unfortunately, everything changed when the pirates raided and killed Belle. Nami traded her freedom to Arlong, though that was something you didn't learn for a while. Once, when Nami came to collect the Berry the village owed Arlong, the two of you met each other's eyes and it seemed that sparks flew. It had been about six years since you truly saw her and she had grown into a beautiful young woman. She had the same thought about you.

The two of you danced around the feelings you had developed for some time before you made the first move and confessed. It was awkward and hurried but you were determined to let her know. You felt elated when Nami confessed she felt the same way, that she had a slight crush on you as kids. She never thought she would be able to have a chance with you.

But ever since you started dating Nami, all the people of Coco Village shunned you. You ended up keeping to yourself in your small corner of the village. They hated you because you were dating someone apart of Arlong's crew, Nami no less, who they believed betrayed them as well. After Nami had finally told you the truth, she swore you to secrecy. The townspeople wouldn't understand and she didn't need them possibly getting their hopes up and alerting the other fishmen to her plan. You ignored what the people had to say about you two - you were happy and in love with Nami. You didn't need anyone else.

Nami brought you all the supplies you would need whenever she came back home after her journeys. She didn't want you to have to deal with any harassment or ridicule the town would give you if you tried to go buy food or clothing. When Nami did come home, they would stare, glare and whisper about you two under their breath. Nami always glared back, making the cowards turn their gazes away in shame or embarrassment. You never knew which it was they were feeling but it didn't matter when you had your girlfriend back in your arms.

Having her in your arms at all times wasn't as often as you wanted, though. You weren't allowed to stay with her at 'Arlong Park', which honestly was fine with both of you. You weren't comfortable around all those pirates and Nami loved the privacy you two got when she stayed at your home. You just wished she could live with you, so you could say "our home". Someday soon, she promised, a kiss pressed so softly, so sweetly against your lips.

There were times you went to 'Arlong Park' to spend time with Nami though, like today. She was headed out the next morning on her next journey and Arlong wasn't letting her wander around. So he sent one of his men to bring you there. Nami had demanded to see you before she left and the pirate knew better by now than to deny her the privilege of being with you.

Nami was playing poker with the men, clearly winning. You stand to the side to not draw unwanted attention to yourself until she was done with the game. You never wanted to distract your beautiful girlfriend when she was focused. She shoved all her chips to the middle, as stone-faced as she could be. "I'm all in, boys."

Some of the fishmen grumble as they throw their cards down, giving up. One fishman was staring her down before throwing the rest of his chips into the pile as well. He set his cards down with a flourish and a wide grin. "Beat that, human."

There's a fake pout on Nami's lips. You knew what that fake pout meant - she tried to use it on you all the time when you wouldn't give her what she wanted. It usually worked. "Read 'em and weep." She lays down her four queens gently before standing, scooping up her winnings.

"Nami, that was so good!" you cry out, heading to your partner and throwing your arms around her waist.

"Hey, babe! I did it to show off," she says with a wink, arms wrapping around you tightly.

"Fucking queers," the fishman who lost grumbles.

You freeze, feeling fear grip your throat at his words. You feel Nami stiffen under your embrace, her hands shaking on your back. She gently shoves you away, head cocked to the side as she looks at the man who spoke.

"What was that?" she asks in a low, dangerous tone.

"I said, fucking queers," the fishman spits, a snarl on his lips.

Nami purses her lips as she nods, a hand rummaging around in her bag. She pulls out a knife and spins it around. "I'll give you a chance to take it back and apologize."

"Ha! You wish, princess."

"Your choice," Nami says with a frown.

She spins the knife again before stabbing the pirate in the hand, making him scream out. The others stand around, some laughing while others look on worriedly. You back away into a corner, trying to disappear back to your cozy little home. Nami towers over the pirate who name called you, watching with cold eyes as he squirms. She twists the knife in his hand.

"Well? Still want to call my girlfriend a name?"

He shakes his head, tears rolling down his face. "N-n-no. I-I'm sorry. Please, it hurts."

"Yeah, I bet it does. So does calling people fucking slurs."

He whimpers, whole body shaking with fear? Anger? You were unsure, only aware of your own body shaking with anxiety. Nami looks back at you, eyes softening briefly before she whips her head back around to stare the pirate down. She twists the knife one more time. "Apologize to my girlfriend. Now."

He raises his head to meet your gaze, lips trembling. "I'm- I'm sorry, okay. Please . . . call her off."

Nami pulls her weapon from his hand, wiping it clean with his shirt. "Get out of my sight."

He scrambles to the others standing to the side, letting them support him as they make their way further inside 'Arlong Park'. Nami comes to your side, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. She takes your hand in hers, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. "Come on."

You trail behind Nami to her room; technically it was the map room where she was held captive for the first few years she spent with Arlong. You hated the room simply because it was where Nami felt powerless for far too long. The chain that had been around her ankle was still sitting on the floor. You thought it was a reminder to her that Arlong controlled her, no matter what she thought or what he let her do. She would always have to go back to him.

Nami spins around to face you, noticing how quiet you are. She squeezes your hand, pulling you closer to her. She leads you to the edge of the bed, pushing you down softly by the shoulder. "What's wrong, my love?"

You shake your head with tears burning, threatening to spill over the second you spoke. She kneels in front of you, her hand caressing your cheek. Somehow, even on her knees, it felt like she was taller than you. Maybe you just felt extra small due to what happened outside. You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to speak. "I just . . . hate what he called you, called us. I get it enough from some villagers but to hear it from a pirate hurt ten times worse. I'm not sure why, considering I don't even have to live around them."

"Because pirates are assholes. No one wants to have to deal with them, let alone deal with a slur being hurled at them. He was out of line and you let me know if he ever bothers you again. Hell, if he even looks at you, I want to know. Okay?"

"Nami, why are you still with them? Run away with me, we can find a little unoccupied island and make it our own," you plead. "I don't think I can keep waiting here for you for weeks on end. It kills me that I never know if you're okay until you come back. I don't feel safe, with the way people treat us simply because we're both women dating."

"My love," she sighs, cupping your face in both hands. "You know why I'm doing what I'm doing. I want this whole village to free. That especially includes you." She takes in your expression, eyes wide and roaming. "I would love to run away with you, say 'fuck you' to Arlong and just be with you. But we both know he would hunt us down and hurt you just to get back at me. I won't let that happen."

You wipe away your tears roughly, sniffling. "I know. He'd never let us just walk away. God, I hate this. I hate him."

"I know," Nami says. "I hate him, too. But I just need a little more and then we'll all be free from him, I promise. Can you wait a little bit longer?"

"For you, I'll wait forever."

Nami giggles, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'm sorry he upset you, baby. What can I do to make you feel better?"

"I could use some cuddling."

"Sounds perfect."

She climbs into bed with you, adjusting so she's the big spoon, her longer legs entwined with yours. She has an arm under your head while the other was over your body, tracing patterns absentmindedly on your stomach. Her touch lulls you back into a comfortable state, wiping your mind clean of the nasty word you had been called. She had a way of making you feel like nothing could ever be wrong.

"You know," Nami says after the two of you had been sitting in silence for a while. "One day, there's going to be a story of us."

You frown, confused as to what she means. You roll over to meet her eyes, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the story of us. It's going to be an epic one we'll get to tell people one day. The story of how we defeated the dreaded fishman pirate Arlong and saved a village."

You giggle, sweeping her hair out of her eyes. "That sounds like some story."

"It's going to be badass. And I'm going to have you right by my side for all of it."

"I can't wait."

You snuggle deeper into her arms, feeling warm, safe and content. She was your safe place and you wouldn't trade all the trouble and hardship you go through for a thing. You would climb the highest mountain to be able to say Nami was yours. The story of us sounds pretty damn good, you think as you drift off to sleep.

[nyrasbloodyclover]

angels roll their eyes (billy hargrove x reader)

a/n: i wrote this two years ago????? omg. my writing style changed so much but my love for this man did not. summery vibes !

Wet hair was sticking to the nape of my neck and my tanned skin burned from the sun, while i was sitting on the edge of a swimming pool. It was summer, actually my least favorite season, but i decided to make most of it and come here with my friends. It was safe to say they ditched me to tan and that's what they've been doing for the last three hours. So i had to swim alone. As much as i enjoyed it, i couldn't help but feel miserable. They could also get a tan in the water, but no...Hot lifeguards were literally everywhere and they couldn't notice them if they were in the water, right?

Well i just proved that theory wrong, because Billy Hargrove came up to me and i swear he looked like a literal god, or that was just the part of my brain that remembered i haven't had sex in ages. I stadied my breathing and tried to act as natural as possible, not wanting to make it awkward. He was my neighbor after all, and our parents were friends. I still had to see him on Saturdays when my mom or his step mom make dinner for everyone. However that didn't stop my pussy from pulsing. Not my fault exactly.

Why the fuck was he coming towards me?

"Oh...Hi, Billy!" I tried to act friendly but it seemed that he took every kind gesture as flirting. Or was that my mind making up it's own scenarios?

Wide grin spread across his face, completely changing his features. "Hello," he squatted down to meet my eyes, "Just wanted to tell you i'll be coming over after my shift here. I won't stay long, don't worry." He smiled even wider, and i swear I felt my ovaries shift. "Your dad told me to pick up some important papers, or something like that and bring them to my father."

"Yeah, no problem. I think i'll be heading home soon, so i can find them for you." Breathe in breathe out, you whore. Stop thinking about him like that. I was certain he could read my mind right now and also thankful for summer heat. I could use it as an excuse because i'm pretty sure i'm burning inside out right now.

Also, i won't look down. I won't check out his abs, and i sure as hell am not looking at his dick. No way.

"See you then." Sun glasses covered his eyes so i couldn't see them properly but i swear he shifted his gaze all over me. Dear God. I just think of my mother and how horrified would she be if she saw my thoughts right now.

He never stopped smiling as he got up and strode away. I took a moment to appreciate his ass. Those swimming trunks did him justice. Damn. I was actually jealous. Okay i think that was enough. I jumped into water and stayed there, holding my breath until i felt like i was decent enough to get out. Without looking like a desperate whore that i am.

I put on white top that was nearly soaked and jean shorts, preparing to head home. I got on my bike and drove as quickly as i could because Billy's shift ended in thirty minutes and i wanted to take a shower before he comes. Also it was burning hot outside, which didn't help. I was touch starved and Billy appeared all wet and half naked. I really need to take care of myself when i get home.

I parked my bike and took off my top as fast as i could, shorts too. I was running in my dark green bikini over my front porch. Sorry neighbors.

When i got into shower, water was like a good old friend. I haven't even noticed how cold i actually was until hot water started pouring over me. My core was still aching to be touched.

Masturbation was my hobby and i think i was pretty skilled by now. I've done it so many times that i memorized where, how and how long to touch. I Started on my entrance which was soaking wet. I sticked one finger in it, then adding one more. With slow pace i started pumping my fingers causing my back to arch. Usually i do it slowly, but i had to be quick this time. I took the shower head and put on the highest pressure, placing it on my clit.

I had to bite back a moan. As water pressure massaged my clit, i continued to fuck myself with my fingers, faster and faster. I imagined Billy's fingers sliding in and out of me. Him slapping me. Biting. Choking.

I felt pressure building up in my lower stomach so i started rubbing my clit as fast as i could. Small whimpers left my mouth and i stoped as soon as i became too sensitive. I never understood how could someone get another orgasm so quickly. I never had the courage to try.

After actually taking a shower i put on my still wet white top and jean shorts from earlier. When i looked myself in the mirror i could see my nipples. Yes, the shirt was basically see-through, but it's gonna dry until Billy comes here.

My head was still dizzy from my shower session, but i felt as if i could do it again. On the kitchen counter. Or my bed. Or even—

Ding!

Shit. He's here. And then i remembered. THE PAPERS! Stupid, horny, bitch. I ran upstairs and into my parents' bedroom taking them and practically sprinting to the front door.

When i opened them, I was greeted with sapphire eyes and blond locks. Oh my... What would happen if i pulled him inside and told him to fuck me on the table?

"I would happily agree." Did i just...Did i just say that out loud. Oh no. No no no. Wait.

"You'd agree?" What?!

"You really think i came here just to get those fucking papers?" He raised an eyebrow and stepped inside, shutting the door.

"When i saw how flustered you looked when i approached you today...I was beginning to wonder..." He stepped closer. The fact that he was shirtless didn't help. "Would you complete fall apart if i touched you?" His finger grazed my cheek.

I think i need air. My mouth had gone dry and i could barely breathe. If he touched me? Like i imagined him touching me? I would pass out. I'm barely holding on right now.

"I changed my mind. I don't want table. I want shower." It just slipped. I don't know what has suddenly gotten into me. Need to be fucked, said one part of my brain.

His grin appeared once again, "Full of surprises."

"You still haven't seen anything. Now shut up and come here." I took his arm, feeling hard muscles beneath my palm, and pulled him towards me. Our lips crashed and i opened my mouth immediately to let his tongue in. He licked my bottom lip and then bit it, causing me to groan. I pulled back and kissed down his neck, to his collarbone, sinking my teeth into his skin. He inhaled sharply. Then i pressed my back to his chest and pressed him against the wall. He quietly laughed, but almost immediately stopped because i started grinding my ass on his crotch. He was already hard. God i want to take him right here.

What's stopping me? My parents aren't home, no one else could see us and he looked almost as desperate as me.

So i turned around and got down on my knees in front of him. His lips were gently parted, cheeks flushed, but i wanted to make him unravel. I pulled down his shorts and took his stone hard dick in my hand stroking it, not breaking eye contact. I grazed his tip with my thumb, then licked it. Slowly. He clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. I continued to lick him, full length, torturing him by my slow pace, while my panties were soaking wet. I swear i'm going to come again just by watching him like this.

I decided to finally take him in my mouth, but not fully. His jaw finally unclenched and he gripped my hair with his strong hands. Finally.

"If you want me to properly suck you, i'm going to need to hear your pretty voice." I blinked at him with my best impression of doe eyes. It seemed to work cause he threw his head back, swallowing hard.

I finally put his full length in my mouth sucking gently, trying not to bite too hard, while still using my teeth. Then he moaned. Mission successful. And that sound was the hottest thing i heard. I clenched my thighs together, trying to ignore my aching spot. He started breathing faster and i took it as my sign to stop.

He wanted to protest, but i got up. He stepped out of his shorts, so i took his toned arm and pulled him in the bathroom.

"Let's play a game," he suggested. "You," he put his hand over my throat, "Don't get to stop coming, until i let you." Oh God.

"Don't go too far, Hargrove."

"Never. Now sit and spread out for me."

I took off my jean shorts and sat on the edge of the bathtub, only in my panties and see-through shirt. Now he was kneeling, my legs caging him. He looked at me innocently and started touching my clit over my panties. My mouth fell open. I waited too long. Or at least it felt like it. He took my underwear and pulled it up, still massaging me.

"Holy shi—," my eyes went to the back of my skull and i let out embarrassingly loud moan. He then moved my panties to the side and sticked two fingers in me.

"Stand up." He might as well told me to fucking fly. I don't trust that i'm capable of doing that. "I said stand up, or i'm stopping and leaving right now." I do as he says.

With his fingers still in me, his mouth lowers on my stomach and starts placing little kisses all over it. When he reached my most sensitive area i put my hand over my mouth, caging my groans.

He licked from my entrance to my clit, atopping there and applying most pressure with his tongue, while also working me with his fingers. I never came so quickly in my life. But instead to stop, he kept going, only this time rubbing my sensitive clit.

My legs started to give out at this point so he sat me down on the bathtub again and started licking like he's fucking starved.

And another orgasm started building up in my lower stomach. "Bi‐Billy!" I bit down on my hand, stopping myself before i wake up the whole neighborhood.

"Good girl. Let's do one more." Oh no.

"I don't think i can. It's too‐ it's too mu—"

"You'll manage, don't worry. Now turn around."

I turned so my back was to him, legs in the bathtub. He took the showerhead and turned on the water. The pressure i put on while masturbating was still there. He smiled. No, no, no.

Without a warning he placed it on my clit and i screamed. I fucking screamed. It was too much and he knew it. I gripped his arm, digging my nails into it.

Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, "Billy, stop, I can't—"

And he stopped. I sighed in relief, but it was too soon. He took me in his arms and led me to the kitchen counter. He bend me over it and gently parted my legs with his knee.

"It'll be over soon. Take a deep breath." And he buried himself into me. I cried out, gripping on the cold stone. His another thrust came even more violently.

"You see? It wasn't that hard now, was it?" He quickened his pace, making my head spin. I swear i'm going to pass out. I felt him everywhere. I felt every inch of his dick in me and it fucking hurt but it also felt so good.

I yelped and he pulled my hair, seizing my throat once again. My vision became blurry as he thrusted once more before pulling out and starting to fuck me with his fingers again. I decided to give him a handjob so he could finish. I was at least capable of doing that.

I came again, thanks to his fingers, and shortly after that he did too. I could barely stand straight.

Gripping the counter i gave him a weak smile, "Get those papers, would you?"

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — four

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of weaponry, depictions of violence, mentions of corruption, a funeral

▷ word count. 4.5k // taglist: open

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FILE_04 : death brings us together

gotham city.

[eight days since your mother was murdered.]

"Looking for this?"

Soobin's eyes took in the woman before him. You were dressed in all black, form-fitting clothing. Over the upper half of your face and head, you wore a black beanie with eye holes cut out and a cat ear silhouette on top. There was a thigh holster wrapped around your right thigh, and your hand was primed with a can of pepper spray. He had to give you props—simple, but effective. All the while, Beomgyu was still trying to hack out the chemicals from his mouth.

"That's why you wear full face coverings," Yeonjun coughed.

Beomgyu growled. "Shut up."

Soobin held up the thick folder in his hand, eyebrow lifted in your direction while pretending his brothers weren't making a fool of themselves as per usual. "So? Why're you snooping around here?"

"Did you shoot our Mr. Yang in the head?" Yeonjun chuckled, cocking his head to the side. "Bad, bad kitty."

Soobin caught the flash of panic in your eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. You felt familiar to him—your stature, the way you carried yourself. He couldn’t label why those aspects were familiar to him yet.

"Give me the file and I'll be on my way," you said. "No harm, no foul."

"All foul!" Beomgyu cleared his throat from behind you. He clutched at his throat, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. "You are so lucky I still have some morals left. That was rude!"

You rolled your eyes and cast a cursory glance over your shoulder. "Maybe you should carry pepper spray on you, too."

"I like her," Yeonjun said, completely unnecessarily.

Soobin shot him a look that said as much, and Yeonjun shrugged his shoulders as if he was helpless to his own running mouth. "Who are you?" He asked you.

"You first," you fired back.

"Ladies first," was Yeonjun's drawled reply.

Soobin massaged the space between his brows. "Okay, look. We really don't have the time to chit chat all night. So why don't we crack this file open right here—"

In the distance—no, that was right here. Right at this building. Car wheels squealed and engines roared, and Soobin looked to Yeonjun who had his body tipped out of the window and peered down at the street below. His hand reached for one of the pistols in his side holster with a groan. "You've gotta be shitting me."

"What? Who is it?"

Yeonjun grumbled an obscenity under his breath as he assessed the situation below on the street. "The Penguin."

Soobin shook his head. "Fuck this."

"Exactly."

"Ah, Bat Boys!" Trilled the obnoxious mockery of the Penguin's voice. Oswald Cobbletpot, better known by his moniker, the Penguin, was a well known mobster in Gotham, widely recognized as the owner of the Iceberg Lounge and in kahoots with some of the most dangerous and most powerful villains in Gotham. And one of the most annoying pests the vigilantes had ever had the displeasure of dealing with. What the hell was he doing here? "Are you finished chasing tail up there?"

"Chasin' tail—?" Both Yeonjun and Soobin's heads whipped around, but the space where you and Beomgyu had been was now empty. Instead, the office door out into the hallway had been busted open. There was only one way the two of you could have disappeared off to.

The two eldest brothers cursed their younger brother out. "Fuck this," they both groaned.

Beomgyu had just left them both high and dry to deal with the Penguin on their own while he could chase your tail… as if he had a chance of catching it in the first place.

Your heartbeat thundered loudly in your ears as you pressed your body up against the wall of the rafters. There was something so satisfying about hearing the Red Robin's noises of frustrations as he failed to find you in the labyrinth of wood scaffolding in the abandoned building. It was the old construction site of a skyscraper, but the project had been abandoned years ago, the project paused, and no one ever returned to finish it or buy it out. Wasted resources for them, but you had spent so much of your adolescence in this self-proclaimed jungle gym, discovering all of its kinks.

And when the Red Robin finally gave up on finding you on the fifth floor, you slipped out of your hiding place, back onto the shadowy streets. You skipped the well-lit places, quickly making your way across what felt like half the city, back to the Iceberg Lounge.

Part of you was grateful that the Penguin had shown up when he did, but the other half… you didn't know, really. Was it just a coincidence or had your father sent the Penguin out as a precaution? Was it worry or a lack of trust?

There was no real way to find out, you decided, as you were granted entry into the lounge. Because it was the ungodly hours of the morning, the nightclub was in full swing, and you squeezed your way past sweaty, crowded bodies. You had removed your mask while walking up to the door and tucked it into the back of your waistband. By the time you had made it to the elevator, your heart rate had slowed to a more regular speed—and then you remembered that you only had half of what your father had asked for.

He can suck it up, you thought to yourself, the elevator doors sliding open to reveal the entryway to your father’s penthouse suite, classical music floating in the air like an expensive perfume. There was a part of you, however, that worried there was actually something important tucked away in those files. Would you be led to your mother’s killer without it?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Your father was seated in one of the armchairs with a book propped open in his lap. One leg was crossed over the other, and a glass of amber colored liquid sat on the coffee table next to the chair. He glanced up from his literature, eyes flickering up and down your form. “Where is the file?”

Something about that irked you. You dug the burner out of your thigh holster and tossed it to him. He caught it with one hand. “Back with the vigilantes.”

“Vigilantes?” His eyebrow arched.

You collapsed into the armchair across from him. Your bones and joints were already groaning and aching. Maybe you could just curl up here for the night… getting back across town to your apartment was just far too much effort—shit. You had to feed the cats though. “Yeah,” you said, your head resting against your fist, “how come you didn’t tell me Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin were interested in Yang’s death? A warning would have been nice.”

Your father busied himself with the burner phone in his hands, eyebrows bunching up. “I sent the Penguin,” he quipped, his tone dismissive.

“I could have gotten killed. Or worse, found out.”

“But you didn’t.”

You scoffed. “Of course you would say that—”

His eyes sliced up from the phone screen to you, and you hated the part of you that wanted to shrink under his gaze. You supposed there was a reason why he was called the Capo, and why he had the power he did. It was one of the many reasons your mother never wanted you to have anything to do with him after those initial couple of years. “Your mother’s killer can do much worse to you.”

Your jaw snapped shut.

There was a satisfaction that rolled off him, and it made you shift uncomfortably.

You cleared your throat. “By the way.”

“Hm?”

“The funeral—” When he said nothing in reply, you continued, “I wanted to invite one more person.”

He nodded to you. “Of course, my dear. Who else would you like to invite?”

You exhaled. “Choi Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu had been awake for the entirety of the night. His body sat slumped in the desk chair behind the Bat Cave monitors, head buzzing and turning and working. With the assistance of about three cups of coffee, he had managed to distract himself enough from the fact that he had found you breaking and entering into a murdered man’s office tonight. Well, he supposed it was no longer “tonight," but “last night." Alfred had long since gone to bed after Beomgyu’s repeated insistence that he could take care of himself.

(Truthfully, Alfred never believed any of the Chois when they claimed they could “take care of themselves," but he had grown tired of arguing. He would watch after them and take care of them to the best of his own abilities. He never liked fighting with the Chois, even Minho, the boys’ father. The lot of them were more alike than any of them would like to admit. Alfred noticed much about the Choi family.)

Besides the fact that he had just physically brawled you last night, Beomgyu had been actively engaging his brain by finding out any and everything about you. The last time he’d seen you was the night of his sixteenth birthday, when the day afterwards, he was to move back into the Choi Estate. He never told you, and he never reached out to you again. He suspected you hated him for that—leaving without any explanation. He had grown so fond of you, and when you had said so blankly yesterday that you had been grieving your mother’s death…

A wave of grief and guilt washed over him once again, and he found himself reaching for his cup of coffee.

As he set the mug back down onto the desk, the sound of the elevator carriage and his damned brothers’ voices erupted into the quiet. Quiet gone too soon, he thought to himself as he massaged his temples.

“—evil! You are evil, I tell you! I was having such a good dream—”

Soobin audibly rolled his eyes (Beomgyu had learned that yes, this was, in fact, possible). “For the love of all things holy, shut the fuck up.”

When Beomgyu looked over, he sputtered out a laugh as he watched Soobin practically drag Yeonjun over to the desk by his ear. It was clear that Yeonjun had been forced out of bed from the strands of his dark hair sticking up everywhere and the disgruntled wrinkle in his forehead. Soobin looked slightly better, but only slightly. There was that telltale Choi family set of eye bags beneath his eyes, but his hair was slightly damp as if he had actually gotten up and showered.

Beomgyu subtly sniffed himself. He usually showered after coming home from patrol, but his lack of sleep was making him think he forgot to.

Soobin dumped Yeonjun right next to the desk, and the eldest crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes. “Hey! I could have hit my head against the corner, you dickwad!”

Soobin rolled his eyes again, coming by to lean over the arm of the desk chair and smack the manila folder from last night onto the desk, right in front of Beomgyu. He even startled slightly at the sound—coffee definitely didn’t do that for him.

Yeonjun muttered a string of obscenities and complaints under his breath as he crawled to his feet, only to perch himself on the table itself to peer at the unopened file folder. “Are we gonna open that thing or is it gonna keep bein’ a—”

“I think Ln Yn’s the cat woman.”

Soobin and Yeonjun turned to their younger brother, eyes suddenly awake. Beomgyu reached for his cup of coffee and took another sip before confirming, “That cat woman from last night? I’m pretty sure that was Ln Yn.”

“Ln Yn…” Soobin’s voice was barely audible, his eyes glazing over as he pondered that revelation.

Yeonjun waved his hands out in front of him. “Waiwaiwait—you think Catwoman is who? Who the fuck’s Ln Yn?”

Beomgyu leaned forward and pulled up a particular window on the main monitor. He had been doing some digging on you… not that that was creepy or anything (he was fully aware how creepy it sounded, but he swore to God he was just trying to catch up on what you had been up to lately). Your profile appeared before them, a small portrait in the top right hand corner. Notably, he had found this in the Choi Enterprises database.

Apparently, you had applied for a position at the company about a year ago. And upon further digging, Beomgyu had discovered that you had been one of many rejected applicants, but you had somehow fallen into the hands of Lee Sungjae. Someone must have recommended you, but he was working on finding that particular tidbit out, as well as who in the world decided to deny you that position—

Yeonjun squinted at the screen, then a lazy grin appeared on his face. Beomgyu did not like that smile on his brother so early in the morning. “Oh, hey! That’s the girl from the bank!”

Now, Yeonjun was at the center of his brothers’ attention.

He elaborated, flinging a hand at the monitor with your soft-smiling portrait. “I was telling you guys about this girl in the Gotham Bank vault the other week—that one badass chick—well, that’s her. She might also know that I’m the Red Hood—”

That woke Beomgyu up faster than any shot of espresso could. Soobin smacked his palm against his forehead. “Fucking christ, hyung.”

“Relax, it was only ‘cause I let her,” Yeonjun protested, then crossed his arms over his chest.

Soobin opened his mouth, most likely to rip Yeonjun a new one for such an arrogantly stupid mistake when a voice cut him off.

“Master Beomgyu.”

All three heads whirled as Alfred made his way from the elevator carriage and toward them. He seemed to be as put-together as always, hair combed back neatly and dress shirt crisp. Beomgyu had always admired Alfred’s ability to stay so sharp. He definitely couldn’t relate. The object in Alfred’s hand, however, was the point of interest for this morning. It looked like an envelope—wait, it was definitely an envelope. It looked expensive, too. Like that type of shit that the company would use for banquet or gala invites. Stupid 110-pound cardstock or something.

The envelope was placed in Beomgyu’s hands, and he examined the outside very carefully. He wasn’t the biggest fan of social functions, but sometimes they were a necessary evil… the thought died in his head and on his tongue when he read the return address on the back. Ln Yn.

His heart leapt, unmistakably. Why? He didn’t have a clue why.

But he was tearing into the flap a second later while everyone around him waited for a report. The Bat Cave had gone quiet as Beomgyu wrestled the expensive accompanying card out of its confines. Where had you gotten the energy to make invitation cards like this? Why were you inviting people to the funeral in such a fancy, unnecessary form? And why, in Hell’s name, were you inviting him?

Dear God, there was something inside him that awakened when his sleep-deprived eyes roamed over the words, however flowery, inviting him to attend the service of your mother’s memorial. You hadn’t forgotten him after all. And maybe this was a sign that you didn’t hate him.

“—Bro, who’s got him smiling like that?” The spell was broken.

Beomgyu cut Yeonjun a look, and the eldest simply replied with a wolfish smile. Beomgyu said, rereading the contents of the invitation for what felt like the thousandth time, “Yn invited me to her mother’s funeral.”

Soobin placed a hand on the back of the chair and leaned over Beomgyu to take a peek at the words. Beomgyu had this odd feeling that this was not what your handwriting looked like. It was far too… detached. Like a computer-made font kind of script. Not like the scrawl he remembered you had those couple of years ago.

“Well,” Soobin breathed out, “if Yn really is the Catwoman, as you said Gyu… then you need to go to that funeral to confront her.”

Beomgyu snapped the invitation closed and slid it back into the envelope sleeve. “I’m going there to honor her mother. Giving my condolences comes first and foremost.” His eyes shuttered. Fuck, he was praying to a god he didn’t believe in that he was mistaken—but he’d recognized your voice, your posture. That was you under that cat mask. “No matter if she’s the Catwoman.”

“Of course,” Soobin agreed, letting up off the back of the chair. “You’re right.”

“What the hell am I missing here?” Yeonjun piped up. His face was contorted in utter confusion. “Why is Yn even inviting you to the funeral, Gyu?”

“I believe Miss Yn is Master Beomgyu’s… friend from so long ago when he lived in the apartment,” Alfred answered, coughing slightly as he side-eyed Beomgyu with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As Alfred made his exit from the underground headquarters, Yeonjun laughed. Beomgyu despised the way his eyebrows wagged suggestively at him. “Ooh, so Yn-ie was the Romeo to your Juliet, hm—”

“Don’t call her Yn-ie, old man,” Beomgyu fired back.

Yeonjun bristled at the bite, much to Soobin’s utter delight. “Whatever.” If there was one sure-fire way to get Yeonjun to shut up, it was by over-exaggerating his age. There were far too many times that he hated being the eldest Choi brother.

A smile danced on Soobin’s lips. “Okay, then that’s settled. Beomgyu’s going to the funeral and we’re pretty certain that Ln Yn is the Catwoman.”

Yeonjun reached down to the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out that half-eaten bag of potato chips. “Now can we open up the file?”

Soobin nodded his agreement, and reached over Beomgyu’s shoulder to grab the file from the desk. Beomgyu and Yeonjun sat quietly while Soobin propped the file onto his forearm so he could open it up like a massive book. He flipped the cover open, and his head tilted to the side. He blinked—flipped to the next thing.

His skin paled.

His brothers questioned him.

Soobin’s lips parted slightly. “Holy shit… this is an exposé on the Capo.” No one had seen who the Capo was, but everyone felt his existence. He had his dirty fingers in every crevice of Gotham, almost every crevice, at least. It was one of the main reasons why he was still out and about, ruling the city like a kingdom. Despite the fact that very few people knew his true identity, the Capo was on everyone's hit list.

Yeonjun pushed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Soobin replied, “that there might be enough evidence in my fucking hands to put away the Capo for life.”

Once upon a time, you loved your father.

That had been several years back, when your little teeth were still falling out, and you just barely reached your mother’s stomach. It was when your father had only been the accountant to the Iceberg Lounge, counting up bills and counting out expenses and the like. It was a dull job, but your father had been good at it. Maybe even the best at it.

Your mother loved him, too. She loved that he never asked for more, that he always smiled when she brought you into the office for a surprise visit, that he cared so deeply about you. There was this sparkle in his eyes when he looked upon you, your mother had once told you when she had stopped bringing you to the Lounge to see him. She explained in simple terms that he had changed.

For better or for worse—you just knew if your mother couldn’t stand to see him as he was then, that you wouldn’t be able to stomach it either.

You remembered how he hadn’t even fought to see you again. So you never did. You grew up just fine under your mother’s wing; struggles were constant and persistent, but you and your mother were even more persistent. No matter what befell the two of you, it would be just that—the two of you.

Sometimes you wondered what you might have turned out to be like if your father had fought to see you, to have an influence in your life. Maybe you would have ended up like him: empty, cold, alone.

The buttons on your dress jacket were large, but stubborn. The jacket was pretty with bell sleeves and a flared hem—definitely one of the garments that you had purchased after coming under Lee Sungjae’s employ. You didn’t have a lot, not now and not then, but after landing that secretary job with the Lees… you had only your secret benefactor to thank for recommending you. Lee Sungjae had never told you who it was, but his eyes had been teasing whenever he said that, and you could only guess that it hadn’t been your father.

Lee Sungjae had been a good man, but even good men wanted to succeed.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t wholly blame him for wanting that either.

A fluffy entity snaked its way around your heels and the cuffs of your slacks, the white fur now clinging to the hems. You lacked the energy to even admonish Kiyo for doing such a thing; you had literally just rolled away all the fur with a lint roller five minutes ago. You bent down with a sigh and picked up the mewling ball of fur into your arms so that your entire upper half was now fluffed.

“Time for the funeral, huh, Kiyo?” You murmured to her softly as you made your way out of your bedroom, and down the narrow stairs to the first floor. The rest of the cats were huddled around the food and water bowls. Many of them were unhappy that they couldn’t accompany you to the memorial service, and you had to admit that you wished they could be there, too. They had known your mother far longer than anyone else who had been invited to the service today. Plus, you figured you were way more comfortable speaking and interacting with cats than real people anyway.

You set Kiyo down and she trotted over to the nearest hoard of cuddling cats, and you looked on with a bittersweet smile. You always had this growing family of seven or so strays, but you yourself weren't a cat. You envied how close they had all gotten sometimes, and it baffled you how you were jealous of your own beloved cats. They weren't just pets, after all, but family.

You checked the time on your phone. It was time to go. So you picked up your purse from the bottom stair, slipped into your flats, and headed out the door for the funeral.

You had been careful with the list of people to invite, really. All of them had to be someone you knew, too, which wasn't too difficult since your mother always introduced you to people she was comfortable and close with.

The service had been brief, but as you watched your mother's casket be lowered into the ground, you realized that you would never see her again after this, except in images and dreams and memories. The longer you stared at the casket, the more you determined you hated how polished and expensive it was. You hated that your father had been the one to pay for it instead of you. Hated that he even had a hand in this, like he did everything.

The distinct feeling of eyes on the back of your head had you turning back to meet them. You almost started in surprise at the person you saw at the back, lingering on the edge of the crowd. You felt hands taking yours, hands clasping your shoulder, words in your ear, kisses to your cheek, sorries in the air—and then you were standing in front of Choi Beomgyu, who had come in a pressed, all-black suit and a bouquet of calla lilies. His eyes were rimmed red and silver, similar to your own, you imagined.

"I didn't know if you were gonna come," you confessed, crossing your arms over your chest. You realized that he had grown up—not just grown taller or handsome, but up. He wasn't the kid in the apartment next door who called you weirdo anymore.

Beomgyu's lips twitched into some sort of smile, but then a tear slipped down his cheek as a genuine one broke out onto his face. It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. "Yn, I'd be stupid not to come. I'd be stupid not to pay my respects." He cleared his throat and shoved the bouquet into your hands, like they caught fire. "Here. These are for her."

"I'm surprised you remembered," you mused, walking over to place the bouquet among many others atop the dirt pile where they had buried the casket. Beomgyu walked beside you as you did.

"I'm surprised you remembered… me," his voice became quiet at the end. His eyes hadn't left you for a second, as if he had taken these few minutes to soak in the years he had missed. "Yn, I'm so sorry—"

You nodded, letting the words fall from his lips. He deserved to grieve, too.

"You're probably sick of hearing that, huh?" He said with a small chuckle. His cheeks glistened with tears, and he reached up to swipe them away. "I wish I was there."

That was when you shook your head. "No, you really did not want to be there." No one should have ever had to see something like that. God, that image of your mother on the floor in a pool of her own blood would be ingrained into your memory as thoroughly as the blood had sunken into the floorboards.

There was a flicker of confusion, before it disappeared. "I mean, I wish I was there—with you—and with your mother. That I never disappeared like that."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and a different ache appeared. "Beomgyu, let's not talk about that. You're not sorry."

"I am—"

"How about if you buy me ice cream, I'll consider believing you." You just wanted the aching to stop. He had been a friend—a close one. You never had a lot of those, and you didn't exactly want your first reunion to be filled with this many sorries and regrets.

There was that familiar twinkle in his eyes. He licked his lips, smile peeking out like the sun through an overcast sky. "Sure. I owe you for all the hot chocolate anyway."

You grinned. "That's the spirit." It was as convincing as you could make it.

You could walk away from your mother's grave then. You thought you'd be stuck there for a few more hours after everyone had gone, but something told you that Beomgyu's appearance was important, and there was something else he had left to say to you.

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[slutforsilverfoxes]

Letters From the Sky

[A/N: Bruv I so rarely write angst because I am a weakling and it makes me Big Sad, but this has been floating around in my drafts and I just binge watched a bunch of NCIS episodes that made me cry so 🤲🏽 a ficlet for u, here u go. It's not really the saddest ending so there's that, at least? I hope? I sorry] Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x wife!reader TW: references to funerals/loss, implied character death

__________

Settling down on the couch in your living room, you tuck your knees underneath one of your husband’s old USMC hoodies and create a makeshift table out of your lap. Writing a letter can help you deal with your emotions, help you move on with life, your mother had advised, and so here you were, pen in hand, staring at the blank piece of paper before you. Hi, I love you and I miss you didn’t quite cut it. And were you supposed to keep adding to the letter daily, filling him in on your life? Was time passing differently for him? How long would it be until you heard his voice again? Could you ask your friend for her thoughts, or would your questions bring up too many bad memories? Head growing fuzzy and eyes growing watery from your endless stream of questions with no answers in sight, you opted to just start writing. Foregoing a greeting, figuring your husband would know exactly who this was from, you let out a deep breath and put pen to paper. 

Funerals are such a funny thing, aren’t they, Jethro? The many faces from your past and present gathered around to celebrate life, lament loss, and say things aloud that they should’ve said to the person who needed to hear it most.

I miss you more than I could ever put into words. It was so strange being there today without you. How many of those solemn events did we attend together throughout the years? Family, friends, colleagues… Too many to count, and most of them senseless losses.

I don’t know how to keep going without you by my side, but it’s been such a blessing to be surrounded by your loved ones. We’ve been trading so many wonderful memories, stories about your fearless feats, your never-ending pursuit of justice, your stubborn nature, your devotion to those lucky enough to know you. I even met one of your former lovers after the funeral, and honey, let me tell you, we got to gossiping. Turns out you’re a regular Casanova, huh? It’s those steel blue eyes that keep you coming back for more, I swear.

I like to think that, even though we’re physically apart now, you can still hear me. After all, you always did say that about my optimism- “from your mouth to God’s ears, sweetheart”. Do you think, if I yelled loud enough, I could get a message delivered to you?

This big house feels even bigger without you. I guess I can think about it like those cases that would last for days, where I wouldn’t even get a glimpse of you until your perp was behind bars, but we both know it’s not quite the same. At least I can raid your closet without hearing you grumble about your favorite hoodies going missing- silver linings, my darling Jethro. I’m not sure how long they’ll keep smelling like you, but I’m determined not to wash them, just in case… My secret’s safe with you, right?

Speaking of secrets (more like hidden gems), I found a stash of Kelly’s artwork upstairs and I’ve started adding her drawings to the gallery of photos on the walls. I know I made some changes after we got married, but the sheer lack of decor when I moved in still astounds me. You’re such a man, she said lovingly.

Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know that

The sound of the front door opening alerts you to your friend’s return, and you hurry to jot down your last few thoughts.

Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know that your girls are all together in this big house of yours :) Hopefully, we’ll see you soon.

P.S. Not too soon. I know I call you my old man, but you’re not that old- yet.

Gibbs puts his truck in park on the driveway, returning home after another day added to the list of longest days of his life. He sits in the cab for a few prolonged minutes, trying to muster up the courage to enter your big house that feels even bigger now.

When he finally trudges up the walkway, he pauses with his hand on the doorknob and releases a heavy sigh before pushing the door open. And then, for just a split second, he swears he hears you calling his daughter’s name and her answering giggle overlapping with her mother’s voice.

The moment is fleeting, and no matter how hard he strains, he can’t conjure up the sound again. But the house feels warmer, lighter somehow.

And he smiles.

—————

LJG tags 🖤 @ilovemark1951 @doctorwhofan24

[crystallinestars]

To Steal a Detective's Heart

Thief!reader x Heizou oneshot I've been thinking about since April. Wanted to post this for his birthday, but I didn't have enough time to complete it, so here is a super belated birthday present to best detective Heizou.

Reader is female.

You had a rough upbringing. When you were a teenager your father vanished without a trace, leaving his enormous debt for you and your mother to pay off. Your mother had to give up all your valuables and the house to pay them off, leaving you and her to live in the filthy, gloomy streets of the slums. Growing up in the slums without a safe roof over your head or food to eat, you couldn’t help but grow resentful of the rich nobles who didn’t have to go cold and hungry like you did. While they ate delicious steaks, sweet fruits, and buttery pastries, your mother had to work hard to be able to afford a simple loaf of stale bread.  

When your mother fell ill and couldn’t work, getting food and shelter proved nearly impossible. To survive, you turned to theft. Nobody would offer you a job since you were a frail street rat living on the slums, so you resulted to stealing what you needed. It was scary at first, and you got caught several times and faced harsh punishments, but you couldn’t give up. The little bit of food you managed to steal from vendors and coin pouches from unsuspecting passersby helped you and your mother to fill your stomachs and buy some new clothes to better protect yourselves from the cold nights.

Over the course of a few years, you perfected your criminal craft and were soon able to sneak into the abodes of the rich merchants and nobles you so despised. After stealing a few of their valuable jewelry and gold-encrusted cups and cutlery, you’d successfully sneak back out in the cover of the night and distribute your haul amongst the other poor families and street urchins since you understood their struggles better than anyone. The poor folk adored you for these gifts, and their happy smiles and fuller stomachs encouraged you to keep at it. You stole more and more valuables from the wealthy and distributed them among the poor, selling whatever was left and bringing the money to your mother in hopes of alleviating her burden of having to support the two of you alone. With the money, you were able to buy a small cottage for the two of you to live in, as well as expensive medicine to cure her illness. When she asked where you got the money from, you lied and said you got a job to prevent her from worrying, though the lie always weighed heavily on your conscience.

Your success earned you a reputation as a scandalous thief among the wealthy. An elusive mongrel who targeted only the rich, but no matter how the nobles strengthened their security with guards and multitude of locks, you were always able to successfully infiltrate and steal from them.

Hearing wind of a nationally renowned detective with a 100% success rate in cracking cases and catching criminals, the town leaders bent over backwards to get him to come and rid the town of this pesky thief. That was how the famous detective Shikanoin Heizou found himself surrounded by indignant nobles that begged him to catch you and be rewarded handsomely if he were successful. He accepted their request because Heizou has been determined since a young age to nip crime in the bud. He lost his dearest friend to hit-and-run, and he’d be damned if he let criminals run amok and ruin people’s lives for their selfish gains, swearing to himself to not let anything like that happen to anyone else.

However, your case was a peculiar one. The more he studied the clues, the more curious he grew regarding you. You only stole from the wealthy and never harmed anyone, and even then you only stole some money and expensive pieces of décor that served no sentimental purpose to their owners. Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that you stole valuable goods and were a criminal that deserved to face justice for her crimes. Heizou was able to deduce who your next target would be, and as night fell, he laid in ambush for you to make your appearance.

You didn’t notice anything amiss when you infiltrated the merchant’s house, sneaking your way into the treasury as usual. However, as you were quietly pocketing several pieces of expensive cutlery into your satchel, a voice sounded from behind you. Startled, you whip around to see an attractive man emerge from the shadows. He looked young, with messy maroon hair pulled back into a low ponytail and piercing green eyes.

A silence hung in the air as the two of you looked at each other for several heartbeats, frozen in place like statues. While Heizou usually wouldn’t hesitate to utter a razor-sharp quip about catching a criminal in the act, this time he was caught off guard by how pretty you were. Even though the upper half of your face was obscured by a hood, there was something attractive about your visage. He could see the surprise in your eyes, your lips parted in silent shock as you stood still, terrified that you were caught.

Shaking off his momentary surprise, Heizou was about to say something witty with a charming smirk, prepared to handcuff you and take you to the station, however you reacted faster than him and were already slipping out the window before he could even utter a word. Luckily it was the first floor, so you jumped out and gripped your satchel tight as you sprinted through the courtyard towards the cover of the streets, abandoning the rest of your loot. Heizou rushed after you, not wanting to let you escape. He was hot on your heels, but you were able to lose him among the winding streets since you were far more familiar with the layout of the town than he was, and he soon lost sight of you completely.

That night, both Heizou and you realized that you met your match. Heizou had never met a criminal that could escape him so easily, though he was loathe to admit that the only reason you got away was because he was too captivated by your looks to react immediately. Meanwhile, you were terrified that someone finally managed to come close to capturing you. If you weren’t as quick as you were, you would have been caught that night.

With Heizou’s arrival in town, your easy victories came to a grinding halt. From then on, you and Heizou had more and more close calls. He grew more proficient in reading your patterns and line of thinking, while you grew more creative in your infiltration and escape attempts.

On one particularly close call, Heizou managed to corner you against a wall after calling for the guards, fully intent on handcuffing you and taking you to the police station, but you thought quickly and tried to engage him in a conversation while you attempted to buy some time in figuring out how to give him the slip.

“Did the snobby aristocrats bribe you with a hefty sum to try and catch me? Are you that desperate to lick their boots that you’d go through all this trouble just to capture me?” you taunted the detective to try and rile him up. Heizou flashed you a charming smirk, understanding what you were trying to do.

“I didn’t become a detective to earn big money. As a matter of fact, I’d catch criminals and put them behind bars regardless of whether I got paid or not. My goal is to prevent crime before it even happens. I want criminals like you to think twice before committing dastardly acts by knowing that I, detective Shikanoin Heizou, will undoubtedly catch every last one of you and bring you to justice,” Heizou replied in a confident yet laidback manner as he nimbly spun the cuffs around his finger, catching them with a metallic clink in preparation to use them on you.

You blinked, not expecting to hear such a noble reason, and your hostility towards him waned slightly.

“Why? Do you want to feel like a hero that badly?” confused, you couldn’t help but ask, momentarily forgetting about your goal of thinking of a way out of your current situation.

Heizou’s expression turned serious, a note of melancholy shined in his green eyes.

“No. It’s not about playing hero. It’s about preventing criminals like you from harming innocent people,” his voice carried a note of resoluteness, and you could tell he was speaking from past experience. “I don’t know what your reasons are for stealing from all these nobles, but your thievery ends today. I won’t let you cause harm to anyone else.”

Heizou’s accusation irked you and you couldn’t help but snap at him.

“I’m not harming anyone! If anything, these stuck-up nobles don’t even need all this wealth, and the poor people in the slums are able to use-“ you abruptly slap a hand over your mouth as dread settled in your belly. You couldn’t believe you let your annoyance get the better of you, causing you to blab some private information to the very detective that has been chasing your tail for weeks, giving him clues to finding you outside of your identity as the town’s thief.

Heizou realized your slip up too and paused. It clicked in his mind that the reason you were doing this was because you wanted to share the stolen goods with the starving people of the slums to help them survive in the unjust world. There was also a good chance you came from the slums yourself, or at the very least were exposed to the horrible life that living on the streets entailed.

Swallowing thickly, you stayed silent, internally panicking that you had messed up in a big way.

Heizou stayed where he was, a pensive expression on his handsome face as he mulled over your words. You were doing what you did out of your own sense of justice, he realized. You wanted to help the less fortunate, just as he wanted to help those affected by unjust acts of crime. Both reasons had their validity, even if one is rooted in crime. He couldn’t deny that you had never harmed anyone physically, and you only targeted those that could stand to lose a few valuables and still be financially sound. And even then, they were never things that would be considered sentimental like engagement rings or items that were clearly used often by their owner. You took things that could be easily replaced, such as a few satchels of gold coins, fancy knickknacks that served no other purpose than to be displayed for decoration, and fancy fabrics.

Heizou’s brain was in disarray as his mind battled with his heart over whether to see you as a plain criminal or someone with a just cause like him. At that moment, there were the sounds of footsteps rushing towards the room you were in. The guards and police were coming. Your breath hitched as you felt the impending doom of your capture. Making a last-ditch effort, you grabbed a nearby book and threw it at Heizou to distract him, before making a break for the window.

Heizou easily caught the book and turned his head to watch you crawl through the window. He still had plenty of time to stride over and catch you—you both knew it. Yet for some reason, he didn’t. Instead, he simply watched you slip out the window.

You glanced back at him with furrowed brows, confused why he hadn’t made any attempts to stop you yet. But Heizou was just as confused as you were, and by the time his mind spurred him on to do the right thing and reach a hand towards you, it was too late. You had successfully escaped with another small haul stored away in your satchel.

When the guards arrived, they found Heizou standing and staring out an open window. When questioned about what happened, the detective gave a sheepish smile and said you gave him the slip again, but that he was extremely close to catching you this time.

From then on, Heizou tried to corner you more often to get more of these conversations with you. He amped up his charm and wit, even cracking a few jokes that made you laugh despite your better judgement and made you open up to him. During the day, he would venture out into the slums and question the people there about the mysterious lady thief. Most refused to disclose any information, but a few kids let slip that a girl by the name of y/n would help their families by giving them expensive looking trinkets, before being hastily pulled away by their mothers. That’s how Heizou learned your real name—a beautiful name for a beautiful thief that stole his heart.

It was a strange relationship for the both of you. You were both each other’s greatest enemy, yet neither could honestly say they thought badly of the other. There was an undeniable respect between you, and also a hint of something romantic. You weren’t oblivious to how Heizou would word his sentences in slightly flirtatious and sometimes even suggestive ways, while Heizou wasn’t blind to your coy smiles, flushed cheeks, and fluttering lashes.

You were both aware there were romantic feelings involved and that they were reciprocated by the other. However, Heizou was starting to get pressure from the police and the town’s nobles for taking too long to capture you despite being regarded as a genius detective, meanwhile you were still reluctant to give up your thieving ways since other professions available to you wouldn’t earn you the money you desperately needed. Caught at a crossroads, each of you had to decide whether to give up your goals for the sake of your love, or to pursue them and lose this budding connection you had.

What choice will you make?

[justkeeponsimming]

The next day, Karma drags Mercy away from her work and volunteering duties to spend a day relaxing. The sisters haven’t seen their sibling, Justice, for a couple of weeks. The triplets have busy schedules, but want to make time for each other. Mercy, Karma and Justice meet up at the Rec Centre in San Sequoia. Normally, Mercy would hop on a computer and start job hunting. As much as she needs a career, she also needs a break. Karma respects that, and quite literally pushes her towards the gym to burn off some of her nervous energy. Meanwhile, Karma and Justice hang out in the computer suite. Justice is a famous e-sports streamer, but they don’t have a way with words. They often hire Karma on a freelance basis to write scripts for their podcasts. The triplets agreed that today was all play and no work, but they don’t see each other often. Karma: “I know you wanted this bit to be more conversational, so I’ve added a prompt for “talk plumbobs”.” Justice covers their mouth as they look over the script, bursting out laughing. Their sister is usually too proper to swear. The little note makes them giggle. Justice: “It’s perf, Kar! Soz to bring work to your day off.” Karma: “No problem. I need the simoleons, to be honest.” Justice: “Is Meme still draggin’ her heels and not findin’ a job?” Karma tilts her head to the side, shaking her head sadly. The tough words aren’t necessary. Mercy is trying her best, but she’s so lost. She’s spreading herself thin trying to make amends for someone else’s actions.  Will Mercy ever come to terms with their mother, Hex’s, evil actions and learn that she can live her own life?