#his solution was that they could get married and hers was to cut off all contact

[muzansfangs]

Shinji arguing with wife reader cuz he don't want her going on missions turning into passionate breeding 🙏🙏

Maternity leave.

Starring: Shinji Hirako x f!reader;

Format: drabble;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding kink, mention to pregnancy, turn back the pendolum arc, power imbalance, dirty talk, established relationship, married couple, altercations, overprotective Shinji, jealousy, kind of toxic Shinji;

Plot: When you decide to request a transfer from the Fifth Division to the Twelfth, your husband feels the ground shake beneath his feet. All of his efforts to keep you away from supposedly dangerous missions had turned out to be useless. Maybe, then, it is time for him to assure your absence from the battlefield for nine months.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“What did ya say?” the Captain of the Fifth Division disinterestedly asked you, cheek propped onto the upturned palm of his hand, his posture indecent for a man of his rank. Trying to keep Shinji Hirako in line, however, was impossible. You had given up on it long ago, leaving the absurd and tiresome task to the brilliant Lieutenant your husband had just appointed.

Anyway, biting your tongue not to reprimand him for his deleterious habit of slacking off early in the morning, you huffed and threw your hands in the air in frustration “I said that’s my last day in the Fifth Division. Do I have to ask Captain Unohana to check your hearing?” you replied pointedly sarcastic in the inclination your voice took.

He blinked. A reaction. This time you had his full attention.

“What the heck? — he scoffed — I don’t think I get it”.

“Well, that’s not my problem. I’ll keep my rank of Fourth seat, but I’ll be working for Captain Urahara starting from tomorrow” you informed him, narrowing your eyes at his scornful attitude. You expected him to hamstring your initiative. After all, he was your husband and your Captain. He refused to let you go.

Despite that, Captain Hirako had it coming. After decades of denying you the consent to go on ‘risky’ missions in the World of the Livings, you had officially decided you were not going to accept such a treatment any longer. You were even better than the Third seat he had promoted a couple of years ago, yet he had confined you to a lower rank for the sake of his obsession to keep you safe and sound. You were so fed up. His decisions were questionable and even your collegues were starting rumors about ‘the Captain’s favoritism towards his wife’. On the other hand, arguing daily with your husband hurt you. The best solution was for you to be another Captain’s underling.

“Why? Do ya really think I’m gonna sign the documents to allow—”.

“It won’t be necessary” you cut him off, unfolding a paper signed from the Captain Commander himself. Of course you had outfoxed him. You were far-sighted, sadly. Your husband knew how sneaky you could be, when you wanted something so desperately.

He tsked, scrunching up the paper in indignation and tossing it in the bin underneath his desk “You can’t do that to me! What have I done to deserve this?”.

“And what did I do to be perpetually the last choice for missions? You secrifice lower ranks to spare my life, when I could easily get the job done unscathed and save them from a miserable death!” you snapped, watching your husband clench his fists down his sides and circle the desk to stand directly in front of you.

The tension was palpable between you two. Shinji knew you were right. He had sent the ninth and tenth seats to fight off a couple of Hollows in Karakura only for them to never return. The mission was initially yours to take. The kind Lieutenant had even offered you his support, suggesting your husband to let you make your experinces under his watch.

The idea of you in another dimension with a man that was not him revolted Shinji. Sending two young recruits to die had been incredibly reckless from his behalf, but it was not yours the name your comrades were mourning now, right?

“You should be grateful I’m protecting you!” Shinji retaliated, staring you down coldly and expecting you to fold like you always did when this got messy.

The moment you bitterly laughed at his face and shook your head at his declaration, he realized how serious you were about abandoning the Division and spit on his face for loving you a little too much “This is your excuse for making me cast off my role of a shinigami? I have been serving the Gotei 13 longer before we started dating. I am a warrior, Shinji. No matter what happens to my sentimental life. I have sweared to protect this place before you decided protecting me was your priority”.

You watched his eyes widen in horror, hand palming his forehead before he closed his eyes in what you assumed was defeat. There was nothing he could do to prevent you from working for Urahara. Still, there was actually something he could do to temporary keep you out of the battlefield. You had been talking about it for years now, but the longevity of your lives somehow alleviated the pressure of procreating. Here. This was what he had to do. He had to impregnate you, fucking you so hard and intensely you were going to beg him to fill you up over and over again.

The hot minute of silence between you two made you think it was time to leave to pack your stuff, but you were suddenly spun around by your husband whose lips stole a scorching kiss from you.

The initial surprise left your body almost instinctively as you began to reciprocate his kisses. His hands fumbled with the sash of your hakama to yank your pants down your thighs. You could sense some eagerness in his frantic actions, his nimble fingers working their way insides your underwear to pry your dewy folds open. Sharp intakes of air filled the silence of his office, whilst he began to rub your clitoris furiously.

“You can’t solve your problems with sex” you pointed out, a strained moan erupting from your throat the moment he sank his index into you hole.

“Too bad you let me fuck your attitude out of you every damn time then” Shinji rasped out, teeth nipping at your earlobe while he heedlessly backed you to his desk. How many times he had wrecked you on the office forniture. How many times you had let him do that. Today was not an exception.

You rolled your eyes at him, legs finally free from your trousers as he lined his shaft to your entrance and hovered over you completely. Your legs enveloped his narrow his, a blond waterfall of silky hair draping over your face as he snapped his hips forwards. You moaned out in pleasure, his cock splitting your warm walls apart gradually. How beautiful you looked like that to him.

Mouth ajar, you spasmed out in bliss, allowing him to bask in your beauty.

“C’mon, tell me I’m a massive idiot for putting your safety above anythin’ else” he flaunted himself, pulling himself half way out before plunging back into you with force.

The desk creaked, you whined “You think a quickie can change my mind? Bold of you to assume I’m so shallow” you retorted, hands tugging at the long strands of his hair as he liked you to do.

But Shinji knew what he was doing, when he did not pull out that night. He knew what he was doing when the following day he sent you to Urahara with wobbly legs and his seed leaking out of you with each step you took. He knew he had won when you got pregnant and Urahara granted you a maternity leave.

After all, he was not going to lose the argument, or you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Happy Halloween, guys! I have literally picked a random thirst from my inbox and … Well, I have written it down impulsively. Hopefully, this does not suck. Anyway, let me know your precious opinions and remember to support your favorite blogs by liking, commenting and, above all, re-posting!

Love,

– Luce

TAGS: @j-u-u-z-o @jesurum-says-hi @villainsrtasty @yeowangies @my-my-my @dehemetera (un po’ di Shinji non guasta mai), @noirfan12 @pin-k-ink @persuasivus

[harrysmimi]

Finally Your Husband

Coffee And Pancakes series P16

Synopsis: YN and Harry tie the knots together in an intimate and private ceremony in Italy and they get to hear an amazing news.

Series Master list | More of My Work

YN was nervous.

She was on brink of having a breakdown. Everything was turning out to be so perfect yet everyone was giving her a big hard time.

The way her grandma wasn't attending was a cherry on top for her but her parents were attending. The way it was the people who loved and respected her boundaries and parents giving her a hard time taunting her every little choice. A few of her cousins were attending too, and most of them YN hated. It was just amazing and hell on earth at the same time. They were Harry's Italian villa where he proposed to her.

One of her cousin got drunk and almost tore his scrotum while dancing during one of the pre-wedding ceremonies. Niall was a real helper driving him to the nearest hospital. And two of her other cousins threw a fit of fight when they found out they were wearing the same outfit.

The pre wedding ceremonies were lowkey too. It was a whole week long spiel and a half.

"I don't know why I am nervous!" She whined on the phone with her soon to be husband, her eye welled up with tears. She was all ready and they were just fifteen minutes away from being married.

There was going to be two ceremonies back to back and long night of partying.

"Baby." Harry cooed, "just fifteen minutes okay?"

While he tried his best to assure her everything is going to be fine, it wasn't putting her at ease. Her life was about to change for good.

Just a few years ago she wasn't even interested in seeing anyone (she in fact hated the idea) and now here she is about to marry the love of her life. Everything between fear and pure ecstasy was just running in rounds in her head.

Harry was just two stories down from where she was but she couldn't go see him. YN was having a breakdown. She was nervous thinking what possibly could go wrong as everything has been so smooth sailing.

On the other hand, Harry was nervous indeed but he could manage himself. He had just gotten into his suit as he was done with his hair.

He got a call from Brielle, stating he need to go see his wife (soon-to-be) now. She was having a breakdown. He had quickly put on his coat and headed to where his wife-to-be was.

"Oh my god!" He whispered to himself as he saw her sitting there on the edge of the bed all ready and dolled up, she took his breath away. Even though she was crying. "Angel, you look breath taking!"

She was wearing a white lehenga, and covered in gorgeous jwellery, a soft makeup look with a bold lip.

And that made her son too. "I broke this." She showed him the chain he got her for one of her birthdays and she wanted to wear it as it was so special. It wasn't going to be visible with all the jewelry she was wearing, but still she'd know she is wearing it.

"Hey, it's alright my love." He cooed as he sat next to her. "It's alright. We can get that fixed."

"I wanted to wear it." She managed to whisper between her sobs. "You gave it to me on my birthday."

"I know, but-" he was cut off when YN's brother's wife, Jasmine came in with a sewing box.

"I knew this was going to be handy- oh Harry?" She was quite surprised. "I am sorry, I should have knocked but she is crying."

"No, it's fine." Harry assured her.

"Look we are going to fix it okay for now?" She took YN's necklace. Soon after her mother walked in as well. She helped Jasmine fix the necklace. They just tied the broken ends with a piece of things thread. It wasn't a permanent solution but it was going to work for now. "Come here let me put this on." Jasmine even put it on for her and even attempted to fix her makeup too.

Harry watched the way her mum looked at her. They both looked exactly the same he figured. He just wished she would have spoken with her then, he could tell she wanted to. She had tears in her eyes seeing her daughter as a bride. It just broke his heart a little.

"I will come and get you in a while. And Harry you probably have to be there in a few minutes too." Jasmine informed both, soon her and YN's mum left.

"Hey, you good?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I am sorry." She mumbled, "I think I'm about to get my period. I don't know why I am crying so much."

"Don't say that." He pulled her in for a hug, "you don't have to say that. It's a big day, and it's okay to feel this way."

"This is so overwhelming." She mumbled against his chest.

"I know, but it'll be alright. I'm right here with you, yeah?"

It had just been five minutes Harry had to go out as the ceremony would begin. First it was the traditional Indian way. And then it was Niall officiating their wedding. Everything went as smoothly as possible. Soon YN realised she was panicking for nothing everything was just perfect.

They both cried twice as she walked down the aisle twice.

"You may kiss your bride, Harold." Niall announced as he stepped away.

Harry was quick to pull his wife in as he picked her lips gently before he got her in a bear hug. YN wrapped her arms around him

Her husband has been by her side for the entire day. It was time for their first dance.

"I can't believe we are married now." She said they both swayed to the soft music playing.

Harry leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Mhmm. I am finally your husband."

"Yeah? I am your wife now." She couldn't help but smile sheepishly at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He got flustered seeing her watch him with love heart eyes.

"Can you kiss me?" She asked.

"You know I will." With that he pressed his lips on hers, not shying away that her parents and brother are present there like they used to. She's his woman now and he is her man. "I love you so much!"

"I love you so much!" She reciprocated.

The rest of the night was flawless. Niall and Zayn got drunk off their arse as they danced to Gasolina for the fifth time. The food was amazing.

"You're not going to have anything to drink?" YN asked her husband.

"No, I am done. Had a glass of wine." He shared as he pulled her closer to his side as he watched his former band mates dance like idiots. "Want to stay present." He pressed a kiss on her head.

"Awh!" She cooed.

"Come on guys!" Gemma pulled them both to the dance floor, she was halfway hammered too there. They had a very fun night.

Harry was still on the dance floor as YN retrieved back feeling tired as her adrenaline started to wear off slowly but surely. Her husband wasn't drunk but he was having fun like his friends if not more.

Soon people started leaving to go back to their accommodations and it was just the close family left there to clean up a bit before everyone headed back. As it was Harry's (now theirs) villa all the bride and groom had to do was walking up the stairs to their bedroom.

It was all decorated with pretty candles and flowers. "Oh see the mood is already set for us." Harry announced as he hugged his wife from behind. "To be honest, this wasn't needed I had my eye on you since this morning." He had been worked up all night, actually all day. She looked absolutely dead drop gorgeous in that dress and she is wife now. That all together new feeling.

YN was quick to turn around in his arms. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm." He nodded and pecked her lips gently.

"This is going to be a big hassle to get out of." She reminded him that she is wearing a Lehenga with hundreds if not thousands of pins holding it together.

"Don't worry we have all the time in the world." He assured her as his hand went up her back behind her Chunni as he tugged onto the string of her blouse.

On a serious note, he did help her get out of the heavy outfit. They had a great laugh as it kept tugging on one thing or another. YN finally got out of the lehenga. He was also just in his trousers by now.

"You were wearing sweat pants underneath that the white day?" Harry giggled.

"Yes! And I was still cold." She pouted as she took off her bangles as she was sat on the bathroom counter.

"Awh, my baby!" He cooed, "let's hand this up, yeah?" He nicely hung up the fit on the designated hanger carefully and hung it over the bathroom door. "Now where were we." He went back to her, stepping between her legs.

"Where were we?" She placed the last of the bangles she took off in their designated box as she looked up at him.

"I'd rather show you." With his arms wrapped around her waist he picked her back and walked back to their bed. She laughed feeling his fingers dig into her side tickling her. He gently placed her on the bed as hovered over her pressing his mouth to hers. His hands wandered on her back to unhook her blouse she still had on. "This okay?"

"Yes." She nodded, her hands on his hips as he helped her out of the blouse that's when she noticed the bulge. She was quick to unbuckle his belt and get rid of his pants.

"No let me do the work now." He stopped her, reaching down to the waist band of her sweats and sliding them down with her panties. He got down on his knees as his lips left a trail of soft and eager kisses down her neck to her stomach to her inner thighs. YN let out a soft moan as she felt his mouth on her, his tongue teasing her bud.

Soon enough she was pulling him back to her, he was quick to press his mouth on hers. Her juices are still on his mouth as he pushes his tongue in her mouth, flawlessly dominating over their very heated moment.

"I want your cock in me now." She demanded, propping herself up on her elbows.

He chuckled softly as he undid his trousers and took off his boxers. "Very demanding, aren't we?" He was back on top of her. He lines his tip against her weeping hole as he pushes inside her with ease. "Can never get over the feeling of your pussy on my cock, baby!" He groans softly with his forehead on hers.

YN just let out a soft moan holding onto his shoulders. "Want it to be soft this time." She whispered.

"Mhmmm." He agrees moaning as he could feel her walls pulsing around him.

"Fuck! Right there!" She gasped feeling his cock plunging in her softly yet firmly.

"Yeah, you like it baby?" He looked at her before pecking her lips, earning a nod of satisfaction from her. "That's it baby, lay back and relax. Gonna take care of my wife!"

YN laid back on bed. Harry was quick enough to grab the pillow for her before she rested her head back, not forgetting to keep on with his slow and firm thrusts. Dipping his head down he latched his mouth on her hardened nipple, whilst his hand was busy kneading the other making her back arch.

"Oh yes!" She moaned softly again, gasping for air as she floated away in pleasure.

"Oh yes baby, you gonna cum?" He looked at her again.

"Yeah. I want you to cum in me." She requested. This isn't the first time.

"Yeah? You want me to cum in you baby?" He said getting his hand down to rub her clit making her jolt in surprise.

"Yes please!" She sighed.

"Yeah, almost there baby, urgh!" He thrusts were getting harder and harder as he couldn't hold it back, feeling her pulsing harder around him. Soon he was releasing his load in her pussy with the last few thrusts. "Fuck that was amazing!" He chuckled, still inside her.

"Yeah." She pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you so much Harry!"

"I love you so much!" He kissed again. Rolling over he pulled her in closer. "We are finally married."

"Mhmm." She nodded, looking at him with tired yet love-heart eyes. "We're married now, I can't wait to grow old with you!"

"Yeah? I promise I will love you even after we're seventy." He mumbled softly against her forehead before pressing another kiss on her skin. It was a joke as they danced to Thinking Out Loud by Ed, making her giggling.

"Oh you better!" She warned him.

"You know I will, baby!" He pushes back to look at her, "do you want to get cleaned up and go to sleep?"

"Mhmm." She nodded.

Harry was quick enough to help her get cleaned and helped her get into one of his t-shirts before they were off to bed.

.......................................................................

Harry woke up feeling super hot for some reason, he back was all sweaty as YN slept closer to him, her face buried in his back.

"Baby?" Harry carefully turned around and moved closer to her wife who was still asleep but shivering and burning up. That was enough to get him out of sleep in an instance. "Baby, you alright?"

"Hmmm?" She sounded.

"You're burning up my love." He whispered.

"Yeah I am cold. I just want to sleep." She mumbled. The worst thing about her was how she managed to sleep through fever.

"Let's go see a doctor first, yeah?" He suggested, "you can sleep when we get back."

"Can we go later?" She mumbled again, pulling the blanket over her mouth and curling up even more.

"Babe, come on now. You're burning up." He insisted, "I promise we'll make it as quick as possible, yeah?"

"I- fine we'll-." She ran off to the toilet and started throwing up.

"Oh no." Harry mumbled as he rushed to her and held her hair back and rubbed her back. "It's alright sweetheart. We'll go see a doctor."

Harry was quick to drive her to the nearest hospital, they were asked to wait luckily there was no rush there and they got in without an appointment. The doctor did a basic physical exam.

"Have you eaten anything recently which might upset your stomach?" The doctor asked as he documented in his computer.

"No, I have been eating healthy for our wedding." YN explained.

"Oh congratulations!" The doctor smiled, "don't worry we'll look into it. Have you tried taking a pregnancy test?"

"Not recently." YN shrugged, suddenly feeling anxious as she looked at her husband. "But I'd be open to one if we can do it here."

"Sure." The doctor nodded. "We'll also get the blood work done if necessary too."

"Yeah. Thank you." YN nodded.

Soon enough a nurse guided the couple to a room where YN can take the pregnancy test in privacy. She was nervous and she was already crying.

"It's okay baby." Harry tried his best to calm her down as they waited for the longest five minutes. "What does it say?"

"It's positive." She started sobbing.

"Oh my god!" He was quick to pull her in the tightest hug ever.

"We're going to be Mummy and Papa!" She mumbled as she sobbed.

"Yeah!" Harry rocked her side to side in excitement.

That was the happiest moment of YN's life there but she was still burning up with fever. Doctor gave her some mild medicines to take and advised her to rest as much as she can.

That's exactly what Harry made her do. He drove her back home to their Villa. Made her feel all comfy as he fixed her a quick meal.

They postponed their honeymoon until YN feels better and is fit to travel and spend their time in and resting and taking in the news.

......................................................................

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @onlyangelrihana @supersanelyromantic @haarrrys @originalsoulcollector @lomlhstyles @im-an-overthinker @tenaciousperfectionunknown @stilesissaved @allthelovehes @sunshinemoonsposts @harryssky1 @sofia-faustina @stylesfever @reputationolivia @kittenhere

[hedwig221b]

Heey, was wondering if you could recommend some magical stiles fics, preferably sterek.

Thank you 😊

Magical Stiles, my beloved!!! 💖

My Mother Told Me by Renmackree

Stiles joined the Emissary program to help Alpha wolves settle into their new roles and to follow in his mother’s footsteps. She had always told him he was destined to run with the wolves, but he thought she meant Scott and his pack. Instead, Stiles finds himself sent to Thingvallavatn, Iceland, with Alpha Derek Hale. It's clear the Alpha is hiding a part of him that Stiles can’t reach, but when a monster comes to threaten the pack, it’s always great to have someone in your corner with a little mischief up their sleeve

My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more. “You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?” “It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.” Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes. “I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

Came For The Spark, Stayed For The Flame

Derek felt the panic build up in his chest as Jezebel held out a hand. He smelled it before he saw it, because who could forget the scent of what destroyed your life? Fire and spark and smoke curled from Jezebel's hands, and the wood stacked at Stiles' feet flared up. When Stiles and Derek get bonded as Emissary-and-Alpha, hidden attractions become a lot harder to hide, secrets are kept and secrets are surfaced, and an evil teenage girl is planning even more ritualistic sacrifice. Canon divergence from the end of 3a.

A Letter From Mom by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal

After waking up at the age of 11 without any memories of his past Stiles spends eight years with his father in the tiny town of Shelter Cove, California. After his father's death he receives a notice from a storage facility in some town called Beacon Hills. Stiles is confused and thinks the manager made a mistake until he finds a letter that should have been for his 18th birthday that his dad never gave him. It's from his mother, who he has no memory of. Weirdly enough, her letter mentions Beacon Hills and some woman named Talia, who he's supposed to trust. Confused and angry at his father, Stiles sets out for Beacon Hills anxious and determined to find out what his dad had been hiding from him all these years.

Truth in Pretense by wanderingeyre

Stiles took the straw from his drink and started chewing on it. He pulled it from his mouth and stood. He grinned at Derek. “Stop frowning, Sourwolf. I have a solution that will solve all our problems.” “And that would be?” Derek didn’t move as Stiles moved closer to him. Stiles winked at Derek. “We get married.” --- The one where Derek and Stiles pretend to be mates to help out a neighboring Pack and find there is some truth in pretense.

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.” That was a bad word. Not found. Have. Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment. One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

If You’re Going Through Hell (Keep Going)

Stiles thought everything leading up to Allison’s death was hell, but he was wrong. Spending senior year dealing with the pack’s dismissal of him while secretly training to be Deaton’s replacement was hell. Feeling guilty and hating himself for what the Nogitsune did was hell. Being in love with someone who would never love him back was hell. Well, if you’re going through hell, keep going.

Striking Matches by eeyore9990

Stiles has only ever wanted to protect his family and his pack. That’s not easy to do when you're human and sarcasm is your only defense. Now Deaton is telling Stiles he’s a spark, and if that’s a weapon in his arsenal, he’s sure as hell going to learn to use it. All Stiles needs now, to complete his transformation into a true badass, is a training montage and a decent soundtrack...

A Similar String by snarkatthemoon

Strong bonds made for a strong pack, and he needed a strong pack. They spent a long time in silence, Derek thinking hard about how he was going to cement the bonds. It needed to be done, and not just because they had the threat of the witch hanging over them, but for the good of the pack. It felt like hours had passed by the time he came around; he had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Stiles moving around on the couch so that his head was resting on Derek’s thigh, his long legs hanging over the arm on the far end. He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed and his heartbeat wasn’t as fast as it usually was, as if he was just on the edge of sleep. It should have felt weird, having Stiles in such close contact, but Derek found that it really didn’t feel weird at all. His head was a comforting weight in Derek’s lap, another anchor tethering him and keeping him calm and in control. Or, the one where Derek meets a witch, gets his betas back, and seemingly develops a sense of humour. Also, Stiles is totally magic, manages to accidentally join a werewolf pack, and asks too many goddamn questions. What could possibly go wrong?

here in the heart (of my sanctuary) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

Talia accelerates through the tunnel, and Derek looks up, watches the light that makes it through the bramble dance and shift over the hood of the car as they drive, fingers gripping the sides of the tank. It’s beautiful, like a gateway to another world. He’s lived in the preserve his whole life, and he didn’t know this was here. She eyes him. “You should know this man is very important to me. I take the responsibility of his care and counsel very seriously. Handing him over to you…it’s not a small thing. Please keep that in mind.” No pressure, then.

A Teenage Love Song by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas)

Stiles is sick and tired of how much he fucks up. His dad is disappointed, his step-mom judges and his step-brother can do no wrong. It's not that he doesn't love them, he just gets so tired of being different. Now he's being moved lock, stock and barrel to Beacon Hills aka the town his mom grew up in so they can go live in his grandma's house and his father can get him back on the straight and narrow. It's going to suck.

[masterlist link]

[formosusiniquis]

Saw this today and new it had to be about Robin somehow

She always knew it was only meant to be a temporary solution to the problem.

They had cut Jason’s hours at work, they weren’t bringing in as much money, and after years of trying the Christian way they were learning how expensive IVF could be. The library hiring a part-time children’s librarian had seemed like a godsend. Sure, Jason hadn’t been happy about her getting a job. Getting her first job since they’d been married straight out of high school and her parents hadn’t wanted her working either.

She’s 36 but Chrissy feels like a child begging Jason to just let her work, to let her take this strain off of him. She calls it practice. It’s part-time, she’ll barely be out of the house, still plenty of time to keep up with the housework and have dinner ready. And they’ll be able to sleep easier, won’t have to tighten their belts so much, just because she’s reading stories to kids.

They don’t want to hire her at first, she can tell. The smiles on the faces of the women in front of her are plasticine and fake, she doesn’t have the experience and even if the job doesn’t need much of it there’s something suspicious about that. But her request to finish the interview with a tour is rewarded. Her soft, blue dress and her hair tied back in a ribbon, it takes three minutes before the first kid runs up to ask if she’s Cinderella.

She’s asking for barely more than minimum wage, they offer her the job on the way back to the front. She’ll start on Monday.

“That’s smart,” the woman at the back desk says. Her nameplate says Robin and her hair is so short Chrissy wonders if she goes to the barber instead of the salon.

“What is?”

“Letting the kids do the heavy lifting, that sounds sarcastic but I mean it. Laurel doesn’t have the sense to run this place and Diana is so miserable she spends most of her days wishing we’d all die inside of it.”

“Oh!”

Something firey and bright lights up in Robin’s eyes at the noise Chrissy makes. Something that makes her stomach swoop and squirm and her own eyes drop down to a smug grin, slashed red. Jason would say she should feel guilty, that deception was a sin. But Robin looks proud that Chrissy manipulated her way into a job she’d never done.

“Don’t worry, princess, you’ll get used to the drama if you stick around. You’ll be working with Steve, who actually runs Kids not that the terrible two would let you know it. If you have any questions you can go to reference.”

“Right, of course.” Chrissy does her best to smile, but she knows it doesn’t land. She isn’t sure what it is about Robin that makes her body flutter and clench like she’s in the locker room after cheer practice, but much like high school, she knows she’s about to go home upset and frustrated despite a good day.

Only maybe not, Robin is smiling still but not so smugly. “I’m reference. You can ask me, because I’m reference.”

She knows it’s temporary, so she tries not to like Steve. Tries to convince herself that it’s strange that a man would want to work so closely with kids because that’s the kind of thing Jason would tell her to think. But Steve is amazing, he has an effortless way with the kids that keeps their jobs busy. He lets her jump straight into storytime with the littles, with the promise that she’s doing him a favor so he can actually get things ready for the teens for once.

And she’s learning Robin and Steve are a package deal. She really wants to spend time with Robin.

Robin brings her coffee every morning.

Robin notices when she’s changed her hair.

Robin uses her 15-minute break to help with the toddler ballet class that Chrissy started.

Robin recommends books she should read and prints articles she thinks Chrissy would enjoy.

Robin makes sure their lunches sync up so they can talk about what their thinking.

Robin changed the tire on her car when she noticed it was flat in the library parking lot.

Steve jokes that she’s stealing his work wife and the first time he said that it scared her. That she might be a threat to their marriage. Jason didn’t like it when she hung out with her friends too much, that her time wasn’t his. But she’s met his boyfriend now and more importantly she’s heard Robin correct him.

“Steve is my work wife. I’m a work husband and since Eddie shares like a feral cat, I can be yours if you want, princess.”

She does want. She wants a lot of things. And it’s been a long time since she was the captain of the cheer squad but Chrissy hasn’t forgotten how to get the things that she wants when she wants them.

She wants to touch. And Robin’s hands linger as she passes Chrissy books and drinks or simply passes by her in the stacks.

She wants to talk. And Robin’s time at the reference desk shrinks and she finds more and more reasons to spend her shifts back in kids.

She wants time. And Chrissy finds reasons to extend her day at the library by hours and hours until Robin is inviting her out when the doors are locked.

She wants to taste. And Robin does what any good husband should. The nonfiction stacks bite into her back, but Chrissy doesn’t mind when it’s Robin pressing against her front. Kissing her breathless in the 800’s section, Romeo and Juliet in her hand.

It was only meant to be temporary. But the longer she’s out of the house, the longer she’s with Robin, the more she wonders if she needs to change what she has been thinking of as permanent.

[kitkatscabinet]

Fake boyfriend?

Pairing: Connor Rhodes x f!reader

Summary: Sick of your family butting into your personal life, you enlist a friend to help.

Genre: Fluff/fake dating

Word count: 1.8k

warnings: vomit, unedited, rushed ending.

"Hey Maggie" you greeted with a smile, rolling past your latest pickup.

"Hey, what do you have?"

"Geoffrey here has had a little too much to drink I'm afraid." Your words are accompanied by the sickening noises of the man upheaving whatever remained in his stomach into the quickly placed vomit bag. Luckily that was no longer your problem, as some of the nurses arrived just in time to cart Geoffrey away.

In a rare stroke of luck, the ER seemed to be relatively quiet that morning, allowing you and Maggie to chat in peace at the nurse's station.

"Got any weekend plans? I know you've got the shift off" Maggie asked whilst you filled out requisition forms, causing a groan of despair to leave you.

"Oh, don't remind me" you dropped your clipboard, rubbing the heels of your palms against your eyes in frustration, "family barbeque. Since I never make it to any events, they've all decided to come to Chicago. No excuses this time." You elaborated.

"I thought you got along with your family though?" April, having arrived at the start of your explanation, frowned.

"I do, but I'm the only cousin without a long-term partner and nobody will ever let me forget. If I have to hear grandma remind me all my younger cousins have big happy families while I waste my life on my job I might actually go insane." That seemed to garner the sympathy of your friends as you slumped against the front desk with a defeated whine.

Most of your cousins had been married with kids for years now, and while you were happily single, you weren't immune to the family gossip mill. Your mother just wanted you to be happy, but even her jokes were starting to get a little irritating. You were her only child but she'd always wanted more, and a large part of you suspected that was where her longing to be a grandmother came from.

Your pity party is interrupted by a concerningly familiar call of your name. Jolting in surprise and horror you turned, only for your worst fears to be confirmed as your eyes met those of your eldest cousin.

"Oh it is you" she crowed, strutting towards your person with a grin and outstretched arms. You barely had time to react before you were engulfed in a crushing embrace, one that you were happy enough to return, even as your heart pounded in panic at the implications of her arrival.

"Yep Josefine, it's me" you trailed off with a nervous laugh, pushing her back by her shoulders with a strained grin. "What are you doing here?" it took everything in you then to not turn and run.

"Well, I got into the city early and then I remembered you telling me that your boyfriend worked here and I just had to stop by! Figured I'd try and track him down, invite him to the family gathering, just in case you didn't." If you didn't know your cousin, then you would have easily thought her intentions malicious, but you knew she genuinely did want the best for you. 

Even if that best was nosy and unnecessary.

From your position you could see the widening of Maggie's eyes as she shot you a look that very clearly read, you didn't! Unfortunately, in your panic you had, and you were now dealing with the consequences.

"So, which one is he?" her voice cuts through your silent conversation with Maggie and forces your attention back to the issue at hand.

"Uh... Well you see, he's..." You trailed off, attempting to stall until your panicked mind thought of a solution. From the corner of your eye you spotted it, your salvation, in the form of one Connor Rhodes. "Ah, there he is. I'll just check if he's busy." You didn't give her a chance to respond before you were dashing over to intercept your potential salvation. "Hey Connor, are you busy?"

Having seen you approach, the surgeon had already set aside his iPad, mouth twisted in a grin as he turned to give you his full attention. "I've always got time to spare for you." 

Had you not been so flustered by Josefine's sudden arrival you would have noticed the lingering warmth in Connor's gaze as he stared at you.

"Great! From now on you’re my boyfriend. We've been dating for, let's say, five months. There's a family barbeque you're expected to be at on Saturday, I'll pick you up." With that rushed explanation you leant up to kiss his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth for show, and skipped back towards your cousin. 

You had turned too quickly to witness Connor's wide eyes and dopey grin as he continued to stare at your retreating form. April hadn't, however, and returned to her work with her own smile as she silently thought that maybe things weren't so hopeless after all.

There’s a stunned silence amongst your watching friends, a warning glare from you keeping their mouths shut. 

"Sorry" you apologised, not so sincerely, to Josefine. "Connor's really busy right now but he'll be there" you promised her, before quickly ushering her back out of the hospital, citing work to get her to leave.

"Not a word." You barked to your curious partner, shutting the ambulance door with far more force than necessary.

Saturday had arrived far sooner than you would have liked. You'd been too scared to speak to Connor outside of his confirmation that yes, you would be picking him up, and your slew of texts that had established the perfect backstory.

Met at the hospital, friends for years, dating and very much in love. 

All true, bar the fact that you weren't actually dating, no matter how much you wished you were. You could only hope that Connor could act well enough to fool your ridiculously nosy family.

You and Connor had shared a ride more times than you could count. That still didn't stop the restless motions of your fingers drumming against the steering wheel as you anxiously waited for his arrival. You had texted him not even two minutes ago that you had arrived, but with every passing second you began to feel more and more uneasy.

A sudden knock against your window had you letting out a startled gasp. Your fingers fumble with your phone, almost dropping it in shock before you manage to glare over at the laughing man entering your car.

"Connor, what the fuck" you swore, reaching over to punch him on the shoulder as he sat in the passenger seat with a laugh.

"Sorry, sorry" he apologised, "but you should have seen your face" he mimed an open-mouthed look of terror that had you moving to punch him lightly once more. 

It’s as your heart rate is settling down once more that you take in Connor’s appearance. You’ve seen him out of scrubs before, for drinks at Molly’s and other casual endeavours but there’s something different about seeing him all dressed up for you. 

Connor’s an attractive man, and ok maybe you possibly had a little bit of a crush on him, so you think you could be forgiven for looking at him a little less than platonically. 

“Wow, you look — ”

“Beautiful.” Connor interrupts you somewhat breathlessly, the two of you stare at each other a little awkwardly before simultaneously turning away in embarrassment. 

“Thanks,” you squeak, before quickly putting the car into drive, trying to ignore the heat spreading over the back of your neck and ears. 

The rest of the drive is silent, save for the soft music filtering from the radio. Though the start of the journey had been tainted with awkwardness, the silence quickly turned comforting, the two of you happy to just sit in each other's presence. 

This was a mistake. You never should have brought Connor around your family. Not because things were going bad, no, they were going well. Too well. 

Poor Connor practically needed a stick to fight off your cousins, aunts and the kids as they each vied for his attention. Not to mention the offhanded comments flying around. 

“Oh, he’s so handsome.” Grandma. 

“How could you keep him hidden from us for so long?” A myriad of your smitten aunts. 

“He’s so much cooler than you!” One of your little dickhead nephews. (Whom you almost smacked, the runt only saved by Connor turning up the charm and claiming you were definitely the cooler of the two. Which of course only further endeared him to the women of your family.) 

And worst of all, “When’s the wedding.” Your mother. 

“Mum!” You exclaim in horror, refusing to look at Connor’s expression, even if his arm suddenly feels heavier than ever from its place wrapped around your waist. 

“We’ve only been together —” 

“Whenever she’ll let me put a ring on it.” Connor interrupted you, his hand squeezing you a little closer into his side. By the time you turn to look at him in shock, he’s already staring at you as if you’re the most important thing in the world and —

You’re not sure who leaned in first but suddenly you’re kissing Connor, his free hand cups your cheek gently and you can focus on nothing else but him. 

Your family and their incessant background chatter fade away, Connor has all your attention, he’s the only thing that matters in that moment. With a half-lidded gaze you pull away, glancing dazedly at your faux boyfriend as if under a spell. 

It’s only the sudden jeering and whooping that pulls you from your trance, and you spring apart from Connor as if burned. Or, you would have, if it weren’t for his strong arms holding you in place. Heat builds in your face and spreads down your body, unable to hold his gaze any longer, you bury your face in Connor’s neck, inhaling his scent. 

Despite feeling like a zoo animal on display for your family, you’ve never been more comfortable than you are now, wrapped in Connor’s arms. Given the way he seemed to curl around you even closer, you think he feels the same. 

The rest of the gathering passes by in a haze, you and Connor completely caught up in your own little world. His hands are never far from you, always grasping at your hips, waist or shoulders, the pair of you giggling together like lovesick teenagers.

By the time you’re dropping Connor off, walking him to his doorstep in order to squeeze in every last second of time together. 

“Thanks for today.” You smile. 

“Anytime. I’m thinking we should do it again sometime. Next week?” Too stunned to reply, you’re left gaping like a fish as Connor plants a soft kiss on your forehead before throwing you one last cheeky grin and closing the door behind him. 

Next week couldn’t come soon enough. 

Goddammit. Will would never let you hear the end of it. 

[pascalispretty]

arrangement

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/Tags: 1950s AU/Golden Age of Hollywood AU, arranged marriage, implied bisexuality, brief references to period typical homophobia

Summary: Tabloid gossip threatens to derail your promising film career. Luckily the studio has a solution; they've arranged for you to marry their Academy Award-winning screenwriter, Javi.

A/N: written for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event for @wardenparker! Arranged marriage and period drama from your prompt list really inspired me, as did rereading the Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year! (ao3)

“You’re not serious.” Your glass is raised halfway to your mouth; it’s only when the beads of condensation start to soak through your gloves that you remember it at all. You set it down on the desk and concentrate on peeling the soaked silk off your hands. It’s late and it’s New Year’s Eve – nobody is going to be looking at your hands anyway.

“I know it’s not ideal, kiddo-” Jack starts. As producers go, he’s pretty good. Or rather, he knows how to make a picture and he’s never bargained blowjobs for better parts, which makes him a damned saint by Hollywood standards.

“Not ideal?” You snap, abruptly cutting him off. “You know the rumours are horseshit. As soon as they see me as Cathy-”

“You’ll never play Cathy if you don’t wise up and listen to what I’m telling you. The studio isn’t pleased, kiddo.” Jack stubs the end of his cigarette out aggressively in the ashtray, grinding it against the glass with rather more force than is necessary.

You wait as he flicks his cigarette case open and lights another. The tension in the room is almost as thick as the smoke hanging hazy in the air. Jack sighs deeply, and pushes his hair back from his forehead.

“Look. I love you. The studio loves you. The studio spent a lot of money turning you into a bona fide movie star. And you playing Cathy, well. That’s Oscar potential right there, baby. But-”

You open your mouth to argue, and he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“But the studio will drop you faster than you can blink if people think you’re a lesbian.”

You’re glad you put the champagne down; you might have dropped it otherwise to hear that word fall from his mouth. The knot of anxiety in your stomach that’s been there since the photos were splashed on the cover of Hush Hush feels like it grows three sizes.

It had been innocent enough. Her hand on your back, where your dress dipped low and left your shoulderblades exposed. It’d hadn’t stopped the tabloids from running with it, running any photo of the two of you they could find and writing articles full of thinly-veiled innuendo.

“I’m not. The rumours are-”

“Not going away. I’m sorry, kiddo, really. I know you’re not so hot on getting married again after Marcus died.” It’s an understatement. You never used your married name at work, but you found yourself signing a cheque only yesterday with ‘Mrs M. Pike’. You force yourself to smile.

“So does the studio have a candidate in mind? Some prized stud?”

“Yes, actually. You know Javi? He adapted the script for Agamemnon, and he won the Oscar last year for that comedy with the Coppola kid?” You do know Javi. You’d met him when Agamemnon was in production, your first serious role. He’s handsome, you can’t deny that. You’d seen his soft brown curls and big dark eyes at the table read and wondered which part he was playing, before he’d been introduced as the writer.

And kind, too. When Marcus had died ten days into filming for Agamemnon, he’d sent flowers with everyone else. He’d also written you a letter, short but kind, offering to bog the director down with rewrites if you wanted more than a weekend off to grieve. You hadn’t taken him up on it, but the gesture had stayed with you.

“And he agreed to this? Or are you springing an arranged marriage on him tonight too?”

“He agreed. He’s ah- he’s in a similar predicament to you, kiddo. Tabloid trouble, rumour mill keeps on churning. It’s not the worst thing in the world, is it? This way, you can help each other out for a year or so, stop the rumours, and quietly split once they’ve moved onto their next target.”

You hate that Jack sounds pretty convincing right now. When he’d sat you down and told you the studio wanted you to get married again, you’d imagined some portly producer older than your father, or another actor who was only interested in women because he hadn’t figured out how to fuck his own reflection.

“I wanna talk to him about all of this. And if we’re on the same page…” you let yourself trail off as Jack’s grin gets wider.

“You’re a star, baby. A bona fide star. Just you wait, you’re gonna have your pick of projects.” He picks up the phone on the desk and waves you away. “Go, go have fun at the party. Javi’s down there somewhere if you wanna talk to him.”

You give him a wave back, and let yourself out of the office before you can change your mind. Half of Hollywood seems to be ringing in the new year at Jack’s sprawling house in the hills. You descend the stairs into the press of bodies, a fresh glass of champagne appearing in your hand as if by magic.

The party has spilled out onto the deck, guests hanging in clusters around the pool. A few brave souls have even shed their party clothes and dived in, splashing about in their underwear. You ignore their urging for more people to join them, focusing on picking Javi out of the crowd.

It takes you two laps of the party before you find him.

He’s standing over by the bar, deep in conversation with a man you recognise as one of the composers at the studio. You take a long moment just to observe him. Your future husband.

There could be worse husbands, you suppose.

He really is quite handsome. He’s wearing a dark green suit tonight that screams understated wealth, and his curls have been tamed and combed back for the night. Whatever he’s talking about, he’s passionate about it, gesturing with his hands and smiling broadly whenever he isn’t speaking.

You wish you’d thought to glance in a mirror before coming to find him. You’re wearing Dior, a dress that had made you feel like a goddess when you’d put it on earlier. Now, after hours of drinking, and your time spent fretting in Jack’s office, you’re no longer certain you look quite so regal.

Before you can dash off to find a mirror somewhere, Javi spots you.

He flashes you one of those lovely smiles, seeming entirely genuinely pleased to see you. When he waves you over, you go. The composer rolls his eyes fondly and melts back into the crowd, leaving the two of you alone.

“Hello.” It feels like an inadequate way to greet your future husband, but you can’t think of anything else. Javi’s the one who’s good with words; you’re just good at repeating them.

He beams at you, completely unbothered by your unoriginal introduction.

“Hello yourself! It’s been a hot minute.” He leans in to kiss your cheeks in greeting. Even though his skin barely brushes yours, it still makes your face feel warm as you imagine other kinds of kisses from him. He smells wonderful too, an expensive cologne that’s present without being overwhelming.

“I hear you’re up for Wuthering Heights. It’s a great part,” Javi says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The way Jack tells it, you’ll be a shoo-in for the Oscar again.”

“Ah, well, I think you’re the expert on those now. You’re the one who actually won the damned thing.” Most men in Hollywood would take the opportunity to springboard into a monologue about their work; Javi waves you off bashfully.

“I got lucky. Nicky was a great guy to build the story around.” It seems to come from a place of real humility. You’ve seen him at table reads, filling in for uncast parts; you don’t think much of his acting ability. He might just be the genuine article. It’s impossible enough to find in this business, but you find that you want badly to believe it’s true; that he really is as humble and genuine as he seems.

“I’m glad I found you. I was looking for you,” you tell him, stepping in closer. Your heads are bowed conspiratorially together; if nothing else, it’ll give the other partygoers something to talk about, you suppose.

“Oh,” he says, his eyes softening. “Jack spoke to you?”

You dive in headfirst, not knowing how else to proceed.

“He did. I said- I told him I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Well I’d hope that the fact you haven’t thrown your drink in my face means you don’t hate the idea entirely.” There’s that smile again. It really is a shame he’s more comfortable behind the camera.

“I don’t. Jack mentioned you were in a similar…situation. And that we might come to an arrangement.” With no specifics from Jack, you don’t want to push. He could be in the closet; he could also have just been caught with a joint at the exact wrong moment by the exact wrong person.

“I’m not as flawless as the studio would like me to be, no. But it doesn’t- we don’t have to go so far as marriage, if you don’t want to. It was just an idea.”

“Come and dance with me.” When he looks at you blankly, you laugh. “Come dance. Unless you can’t. I’m not sure I wanna be talking marriage with a man who can’t dance.” You keep your tone light, teasing. With an affectionate roll of his eyes, he sets your drinks down on the side before taking your hand, guiding you towards the dancing couples.

It’s the first time you’ve held his hand, and you’re struck by just how large it is compared to your own. He’s soft and warm here too, though you can’t help but notice a nick on one of his fingers.

“That’s pretty nasty for a papercut,” you say, tapping the skin just below the cut.

“Ah, I was wrestling with my typewriter earlier. One of the keys jammed.” The two of you find yourselves on the outskirts of the dancefloor, far enough away from the press of other couples to carry on speaking. Javi brings his free hand to rest on your waist, and yours finds his shoulder as you begin to sway in time to the beat.

“I know you might not be so wild about marriage after Marcus,” he says softly. The tender look he’s giving you makes you want to weep; in a strange way, it reminds you of Marcus.

“It’s been nearly two years. I’m not…completely opposed.” After all, it’s not like Marcus would want you miserable and moping for the rest of your life, you are certain about that. And you like Javi, in spite of yourself. He’s handsome and kind and warm. Any girl would be lucky to marry him.  

“We wouldn’t be the first couple in this business to get married because the studio said so.” Javi looks around the room, glancing at the other couples moving around the dancefloor. “There’s probably more than one…arrangement just in this room.”

“It’d help to really sell it, if we got married. You can move in with me, if you like,” you say impulsively. “But I’d prefer if you were in the guest bedroom at first.”

“That’s absolutely fine.” The song changes, but the two of you keep swaying aimlessly. There’s a long pause as Javi looks searchingly at you.

“Can I be honest?” Javi says, adjusting his grip on your hand. “I was – I’m glad it was you, that Jack suggested.”

“Oh?” You can’t help leaning in. His other hand slides a little higher up your back, between your shoulder blades.

“I think you’re the cat’s pyjamas,” he says, smiling softly. “You always noticed me, on set. Asked me questions. The lead of the whole damned picture, just lost your husband, and you think to ask me how my day is going. And that’s not even getting into how talented you are, how beautiful-”

You feel lightheaded, like you’ve drunk a bottle of champagne all in one go again.

“Oh Javi, baby. Do you like me?” You tease, a smile spreading across your face. He seems flustered again, and you take your hand off his shoulder to cup his face.

“I quite like you too. You’re handsome and kind and you know how to put a sentence together. Women have married men for a lot less.”

Before you can overthink it, you kiss him.

A lot has been written about your kisses. The kiss you shared with Don Adler in Agamemnon won some sort of award, and you have an article framed on your vanity about your lipstick choice at the Oscars.

This is different though.

After the smallest moment of uncertainty, Javi kisses you back. Any hesitance you might have melts away as you lean into the embrace. You kiss him more firmly, more boldly. His hand on your back presses harder, holding you closer against his body. A feeling of warmth blooms through you, like settling into a perfectly warm bath after a long day.

More than anything, it just feels right.

You’re not sure how long you kiss before you break away. Javi cradles your jaw in his hands, the pad of his thumb resting lightly against your lower lip.

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

“You didn’t write that one,” you say with a smile. He laughs, a sound so lovely and warm that you immediately want to make him laugh again.

“Give me time. I’ll write your next leading man a hell of a monologue about the shape of your lips alone.”

“You promise?” You catch at the lapel of his blazer, running your fingertips against the fine fabric. Based on everything you know about him, Javi seems like a man who keeps his word.

“I do.”  

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots

@its-nebuleuse @totallynotastanacc

[blondieeu]

west side story - tony finding maria and climbing up to her balcony railing to tell her how much he loves her even though they just met is so satoru coded like actually.

satoru knew he should've gone home hours ago and he had no business on this side of town anyway, he was a sorcerer. but he couldn't stand to go home without knowing if he'd ever see you again. especially not when your peach flavored lip gloss tasted so good.

"it doesn't open?" satoru pulled harder against the shut metal hatch above him with a disappointed expression as he stood on the railing of the balcony underneath him. "I don't have the key." You laughed.

"shit!" the snowy haired boy face palmed and you smiled wide at the profanity, he was so upset over such a little thing. you quickly shut your bedroom window, afraid your aunt was still awake.

cold metal pushed into your legs as you got on your knees to intertwine your fingers with his, your faces close. "i'd use my powers to break it, but I'd just get us both into trouble.." he sighed.

you thought for a minute,"you're a sorcerer?" he nodded. "you'd risk all that to be.. here...!?" he nodded again, pretty blue eyes staring deeply into your own. sorcerers weren't allowed in residential areas, jujutsu isn't always easy to control.

"you're worth defying the whole world." his nice white dress shirt a little dusty and his expensive dress shoes drenched from the dirty rain puddles he walked directly into when he finally found you. “I wanna be with you. I love you,” You laid on the metal now, trying to get as close as possible to him. “I love you” you whispered back, “I had a feeling that a miracle might happen tonight.. You’re all Ive prayed for.”

“But they’d never accept this satoru. Don’t you have that part of your life planned out for you anyway?— to marry the most powerful sorcerer and make ba—”

“I don’t care about that—I-I don’t want that, they don’t matter. I just wanna be with you” you swear you would almost melt from his words but still shook your head, he was so stubborn, was he even listening?

“And it’s not safe,” you continued, your eyebrows furrowed with worry. “I can control it— I’ll vow to never use jujutsu again if that’s what scares you” he countered every doubt you had with a solution, no matter if it was logical or not. “What if they—”

he cut you off, not rudely, more impatient to sort this out with you. “Then let’s run away together if you’re worried— somewhere nobody cares what I am or the rules or other bullshit like that. they can’t find us if we run away — I’ve seen others do it and they’re still missing.” he thought lightly about an old friend.

satorus fingers intertwined with you and those ‘damned metal bars’. You were so close to each other you could feel his breath on your cheek. “Run away?—Youre serious?” He nodded and you looked back at your window, your bedroom window — your whole life, and then you looked back to him, your potential new life. “To where?..Where won’t they find us?”

“Anywhere you want. I’ll run anywhere with you”

Blondieeu xx

[celestialseawitch-ff]

🌹🌹🌹I religiously follow everything you write. Including all these little snippets on tumblr 😅🥳

Send a rose 🌹 and I'll post a snippet of a wip

“What do you want, Malfoy?”

“It's about Granger,” Draco replied in an undertone. He looked around the alley he'd asked Harry to meet him in.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He'd come to the meeting in his full Auror robes and he felt better about that decision now that Draco had brought up his best friend's name.

“I've got news on that research. On her… illness?”

Harry stared at Draco. “What?”

Draco's eyes widened in horror. “Oh fuck. No chance you'll let me leave now, is there? I'm just going to-”

“-No shot, Malfoy.” Harry grabbed a fistful of Draco’s robes and pushed him back against the wall. “Explain. Slowly.”

Draco raised his hands and didn't bother to fight Harry off. “Granger came to me several months ago. She wanted me to look into an illness. I thought it was just professional curiosity. I'm a healer. She's an Unspeakable. Sometimes we cooperate.”

“Get to the point,” Harry growled.

“I quickly figured out it wasn't that at all. She's sick.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Define sick.”

“Dying. She's dying.” Draco's eyes flickered across his face. “She never told you?”

Harry glared. “How long does she have?”

“She's a powerful witch, so longer than most. But I think I found the – well, not the cure, but the solution.”

He looked down at Harry’s hand in his robes. Harry let go and stepped back.

“What's your solution?”

“God, Aurors are the worst. You don't even want to know about the distinction between cure and solution?” He continued before Harry could respond. “It's a solution not a cure because she isn't sick. She's being cursed.”

“Being? Present tense?”

“Oh, that you pick up on. Yes, the curse is still active. Ergo, present tense.”

“What's the solution?”

“She got it from the knife. At the manor during the war.”

Harry's face darkened. “She's been sick that long?”

“No, there's a grace period. It's a curse, but it isn't meant to be. It's a knife used by the Black family in marriage rituals. The bride's hand is cut. The curse enters her system. If she doesn't have a child after about five years, she gets sick. She dies and the husband is free to move on and get married again to someone who can provide an heir.”

“But Hermione isn't married.”

Draco shrugged. “Well, no, it's just ceremonial. A curse is a curse.”

Harry narrowed his eyes as considered that. “So Hermione needs to have a baby?”

“No. Hermione needs to have a baby from someone in the Black family. Which is why she came to me and why I came to you.”

They stated at one another.

“She clearly had some idea of what was wrong. I mean, she's Granger. My mother is a Black, I might satisfy the requirements.” Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry. “You and I are the only ones aware of the fact that Sirius Black blood-adopted you. You're more a Black than I am.”

“I am married.”

Draco gestured. “Yeah, well, Granger is gonna die if you don't get her pregnant so if you're fine doing that to her, that's on you then.”

“Give me your research.”

Draco easily handed over the file.

“You're certain there's no other way?”

“Positive. I triple checked.”

“Will she be sick through the pregnancy?” he asked as he flipped through the papers and medical reports.

“No, it'll recede. But it'll come back in full force if she loses the baby. Maybe worse than before.”

Harry looked up at him. “You'll be her healer?”

Draco’s eyes widened. “I- what? I don't work with pregnant witches.”

“Maternity healers don't work with curses like this. I'll want you on hand alongside a maternity healer.”

Draco stared at him. “You're gonna do it?”

Harry stared back. “It's Hermione.”

“What're you going to tell your wife?”

Harry glared at him. “OWL me if you have any other developments. Keep researching. I'll be in touch.”

Draco nodded quickly. “Yup, right. Gotcha.”

[gunslinginggoblin]

The Song of the Heist

A Dutch x fem!reader oneshot based on THIS idea I had.

notes: this was written in my notes app, I just HAD to get it out of my head

It was a warm summer evening, the kind that wrapped the world in a golden glow. The Van der Linde gang had taken their positions outside the grand theater, their latest heist already underway. Inside, the audience was buzzing with excitement, awaiting the night’s performance. Dutch was pacing, a cigarette dangling from his lips as his sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. This was supposed to be a simple heist—a quick and efficient job, the kind the gang was good at. A snatch-and-grab amidst the cultured crowd. It would be easy. Fast. And, most importantly, profitable.

But as Dutch and the others waited, things started to go awry.

You had been part of the gang for quite some time and whilst you’d still consider yourself a rather unlikely member of the Van der Linde gang, you never had any trouble blending in with the rest of them. What no one knew ,however, was that before you joined the gang, you had been a classical-trained singer. Music had been your life before your family’s decision to marry you off to some cruel bastard had led you to run away and ultimately pushed you into a different kind of existence.

But that world seemed far away now, buried in the past, tucked away in the recesses of your mind. And it’s not like you regretted any of your decisions anyways. The Van der Linde gang had quickly become more dear to you than anything else. Some members more so than others.

You stood in the alley behind the theater, watching through the open doors, as the stagehands prepared for the show. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the flurry of activity backstage—the singer wasn’t well. In fact, she supposedly had collapsed earlier, and her voice had failed her entirely. The staff was frantic, searching for a solution as the minutes ticked away.

You were supposed to be a mere distraction—just a quick, beautiful “performance” to get the crowd’s attention while the gang moved in and took whatever they could get their hands on. But now, as the minutes passed and the theater grew restless, the opportunity to distract the crowd was slipping away.

You had to act fast. You couldn’t let Dutch’s plan fall apart—not after all this. You’d make it work.

Swiftly turning on your heels, you approached Dutch, who was in the shadows, quietly discussing the finer points of the heist with the rest of the group. Dutch's sharp eyes were scanning the theater’s exterior when you stepped into his line of sight.

“Dutch,” you said softly, catching his attention. “We have a problem.”

Upon hearing your words, he turned his full attention toward you, flicking the cigarette between his fingers and glancing you up and down, a raised brow indicating he was already bracing for the worst. “What now, darlin’?” he asked, his voice smooth, but with that familiar edge of concern.

“The singer,” you said, your words clipped. “She’s sick—can’t perform. The show’s about to start, and they have no one to fill in.”

Dutch’s brow furrowed, a slow, dangerous realization dawning on him. The plan was going perfectly up until this point. But now… “So, what? They’ll cancel the whole damn thing?” His eyes narrowed.

You shook your head, glancing at the stage entrance. The last thing any of you needed was for this plan to fall apart.

“No,” you said with sudden resolve, meeting his eyes directly. “I’ll do it.”

His dark eyes widened slightly, clearly taken aback. There was a pause, just long enough for the weight of your words to hang in the air. Dutch’s eyes sparkled with disbelief. “You? What the hell are you talkin’ about? You’re no singer—”

“I can sing,” you cut in, your voice sharp with urgency. “And right now, that’s exactly what we need. I’ll do it. You need a distraction, I’ll give it to you.”

Dutch’s expression flickered between confusion and something else—something almost... intrigued. “Well, hell,” he muttered under his breath. “You’ve certainly got guts.”

Before he could protest any further, you turned and walked away, your boots clicking against the stone as you made your way toward the door that lead to the backstage area. There was no turning back now. You were committed. You’d make this work.

---

Within minutes, the announcement rang out across the theater.

“Ladies and gentlemen, due to unforeseen circumstances, the singer for tonight’s performance is unable to sing. However, we have a volunteer who kindly offered to step in. Please welcome… Miss Y/N!”

The crowd murmured in confusion, unsure what to make of this sudden change. Backstage, the staff was scrambling. You had been put in elegant clothes , much more suited for a grand stage performance than your outlaw attire. After quickly reassuring the conductor that you were familiar with the program , you took center stage, standing tall beneath the harsh lights. The energy in the room shifted, becoming electric, as you stood there in front of an eager audience.

You didn’t look at where you’d know Dutch to be at, didn’t need to. You knew better than anyone else, that by now the gang was already in position. You had one job to do, and you were going to execute it perfectly.

The theater quieted as the orchestra started to play and began to sing, the haunting opening notes of Dvořák’s Mesicku na nebi hlubokém filling the glamorous space. The purity of your voice reverberated off the walls, and you felt the power of it as it flowed through you, every note as natural to you as breathing.

Above you, in the shadows on one of the theatre’s balconies , Dutch froze. His heart skipped a beat. He had never heard you sing before—had never known you could.

His breath caught in his chest as your voice rose, soft and powerful, delicate and raw. It was as though the entire room hung in the balance of your song. The rest of the gang, already busy with emptying the crowd’s pockets, didn’t notice Dutch’s stillness. But Dutch couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was rooted to the spot, his fingers gripping the edge of the balcony, his knuckles turning white.

The plan? Forget the plan. The money? Not important. Tahiti? For once not on his mind.

In this moment, there was only you. The way your voice shimmered like liquid gold, the way you carried every note with effortless grace. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You weren’t just singing. You were mesmerizing him, holding him captive with every word. It was as though he was witnessing something celestial, something far beyond the realm of men.

Below, the gang continued their work, unaware of Dutch’s state. They moved efficiently, relieving the audience of their wealth, rifling through coats, pockets and bags. But for Dutch, time had slowed. Every other noise, every other sound faded into the background. It wasn't as if he had been averse to you all those years before, on the contrary, a certain tension had built up between you two over the years. Nevertheless, this moment was completely different, more than just a bit of flirting here and there.

He was consumed by you.

As the final notes of the aria filled the room, the crowd erupted into applause, but to Dutch, it sounded like distant thunder. You had completed the job, and now, as you stood before the audience, you took a moment to breathe, feeling the weight of the performance lift from your shoulders. You had done it. The heist was back on track.

But when you turned toward the balcony, your gaze locked with his.

And there it was. That look in Dutch’s eyes. The one that made your heart skip a beat.

Dutch had been watching you the whole time, captivated, lost in your song. In that moment, the man who had always been able to control every situation realized he couldn’t control this. He had been falling for you—harder than he ever expected.

After Dutch had pulled himself together and quickly sent the rest of the gang back to camp with their stolen goods, he made sure to stay behind, waiting back in the alleyway for you to come out of the theatre, so he could escort you back to camp.

—--

The night was winding down as you and Dutch walked back. You were almost back at camp, the sounds of the crickets quietly starting to blend with the distant crackle of fire and chatter of your friends. You were back in your usual attire now, a sense of relaxation washing over you now that the heist had gone off without a hitch. However , you couldn’t help but notice that there was a different energy between you and Dutch now, a playful tension that neither of you could quite ignore.

Dutch was looking at you with that signature half-smirk, the one that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. You gave him a sidelong glance. “You’ve got that look again, Dutch. You know, the one where I know you’re thinking something ridiculous.”

His grin grew wider. “Me? Ridiculous? Never.”

You shot him a look that said ‘you’re absolutely ridiculous’, but you didn’t say it out loud, knowing it’d just egg him on. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Van der Linde.”

Dutch chuckled, clearly enjoying how easily you could keep up with him. “Alright, maybe I am ridiculous, but I’m not the only one.” He leaned in a little closer as you walked, the teasing in his voice barely hidden. “You were amazing tonight, y’know? Not just your performance, though.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell, Dutch.”

His voice dropped lower, teasing and confident. “You know exactly what I mean. You’ve got a way of catching the attention of a room, darlin’. And not just with your voice.” He added a slow, playful glance, his eyes flicking over you with an almost predatory intensity.

You laughed, but it wasn’t the usual dismissive kind you had grown accustomed to over the years. This time, it was a little more genuine, a little more intrigued and all the more real. “You’ve got a hell of a way with words, Dutch. Maybe you should stick to talking instead of stealing.”

“Maybe,” he said, the mischief clear in his smile, “but I think I’d rather steal something more valuable than a few purses.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling that familiar rush of amusement and something else you weren’t quite ready to name. “And just what is that?”

“The attention of the only woman who could make me forget about all the gold in the world,” he said, his voice low but sincere enough to make your stomach flutter despite yourself.

You scoffed, trying to hide the sudden warmth flooding your cheeks. “Oh, really? And I suppose I’m supposed to be flattered?”

“Of course you should be,” Dutch said with an amused scoff, his steps a little lighter now, as though he knew he had you. “I’ve got a lot of fans, darlin’. But none of them hold a candle to you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, and for a second, you couldn’t help but let your guard down. “Alright, alright. Keep it up, Dutch. You’ll wear me down eventually.”

“I don’t need to wear you down,” he said with a playful smirk. “I just need you to sing for me one more time. You know, when you’re ready. I’ll even provide the best seat in the house.”

You shot him a sideways look, half amused, half intrigued. “I thought you had your phonograph for that.”

Dutch leaned in closer again, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “The phonograph doesn’t compare to the real thing. Don’t make me start begging, sweetheart.”

“Begging, huh?” You teased. “What makes you think you’re so special?”

“Because,” Dutch said, his voice taking on a hint of seriousness beneath the teasing, “I’ve got a way of getting what I want. And I’m very patient.”

You looked at him for a long moment, feeling the shift between you two—a quiet, simmering understanding. “Is that so? Well, you better be patient, Dutch. You’re gonna need it.”

He smiled, that signature mischievous grin playing at his lips. “Oh, I’ve got all the patience in the world, sweetheart. Trust me. You’re worth the wait.”

You bumped your shoulder into his lightly, trying to hide the way his words had made your heart race a little faster. “You’re something else, Dutch. I’m not sure I can deal with you sometimes.”

Dutch didn’t miss a beat. “You don’t have to deal with me, darlin’. You get to enjoy me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, curling up into a smile you couldn’t quite suppress. “Keep talking, Van der Linde. One day, I might actually start believing you.”

“Oh, I know you will,” he said with that grin of his that made your heart skip. “One day, you won’t be able to resist me.”

You stopped walking for a moment, meeting his gaze, your expression teasing but warm. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Dutch. You’ve still got a lot to prove.”

Dutch stepped closer, a playful gleam in his eyes, his voice dropping low. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I plan to prove it every chance I get.”

With that, he continued walking, leaving you trailing behind for just a second as you processed his words. Dutch Van der Linde wasn’t the easiest man to figure out, but in that moment, you were pretty sure he knew exactly what he was doing.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to let him get away with it.

[thewhitewitch-bitch]

In Astris Supra (Chapter 5: Circulus Insutus Fato, Portas Abditas Resera)

Agatha Harkness x F!OC

Read it on AO3

October 1710

There is no amount or combination of words sufficient enough to capture the true horror of war. Even those who avoid the front face of conflict are subject to the cruelty and tragedy that befalls men at arms. There is heartbreak, sorrow, and a pain so immense that it blankets the battlefield and all that surrounds it like a straitjacket, constricting everything until it chokes both sides of the conflict and creates suffering. 

I had not truly known suffering like that. Not even when I left Salem behind in pursuit of a nobler calling, one that would hopefully allow me to one day return to Agatha Harkness and offer her a solution. At the time, I could only assume that she had remained in Salem, carving out her own place in the town and wreaking havoc on those who dared to get in her way. From what I could gather, based on the cries of newsboys from Boston to Philadelphia, the Witch Trials had come to an end, the town nearly destroyed by their own paranoia. It made me wonder just how much influence Agatha had gained in just a few short months, made me try to recall if I could have had the opportunity to see the signs of her inevitable descent into power mongering. 

But I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to think that she had done so willingly. The love that I had for her remained, despite my best efforts to suppress it. At night, I dreamed of the days we spent together, when there was no barrier between us, no coven driving a wedge between her and her potential for good. Those memories would bring on what ifs that were as blissful as the feeling of her touch on my skin. What if we had left Salem before her mother had found us out? What if I had told her of my love for her before it was too late? What if we could have been happy simply being together, with no magic to get in the way?

"Lots on your mind this morning, eh, Ms. Stuart?" 

My thoughts were abruptly cut off by the voice of the man I was traveling with. Looking over at him from the back of my horse, I smiled wistfully and nodded. Dr. Rupert Kingsley was a rather handsome and kind young man, who came straight off the boat from London proper, with wide, dark eyes and light brown hair the shade of molten bronze. Had my interests been aligned with his, I likely would have married him as soon as the opportunity presented itself, but he was well aware that our paths were parallel to each other, never meant to cross but rather to guide each other to the right destination. So, as a talented young physician, with no ward or servant, he accepted me as an unofficial student and permitted me to travel with him as he moved from Boston northward along the coast of the colonies and into the wilds of French-controlled Acadia. 

"There's always a lot on my mind, Dr. Kingsley. Today though, the thoughts are just a tad bit louder than usual." I replied, tightening the grip on my reins. My gaze fell from the doctor to my hands, buried in the black mane of my mare.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Rupert said solemnly, "But I'm afraid you're going to have to silence them. There's no place for loud thoughts on the battlefield. If you want to be a doctor, and I know you do, you have to calm your mind and senses. Leave no room for distractions, they only lead to mistakes, and mistakes lead to death." 

"Of course."

We did not speak again after that, instead allowing the silence to be filled by the beat of our horses' hooves beneath us as we urged them forward to a lively trot and continued on the path northward. It had been a week since we had crossed into Acadia, and with Lieutenant-General Nelson on the move with nearly 2,000 men intent on laying siege to the French at Port Royal, we had little time for dawdling.

The troops were meant to make landfall at their destination any day now, a cohort of doctors and their associates not far behind. From there, it was simply the task of removing the French, an objective that had proven surprisingly difficult for the British forces as of late. But the British were unwilling to cave, which was why Dr. Kingsley thought it the perfect opportunity to 'break me in' to the world of mortal medicine. I was thankful that he remained blissfully unaware of my magic, the late nights spent practicing healing spells on wounded animals or patients that had come into his Boston office seeking extended treatment.

In combination with his medical prowess, I found that my magic was sufficient enough to reduce treatment time by nearly half, even with the most basic of spells. And while my power continued to fluctuate with the phases of the moon, I came to the discovery that at different phases, my spells reacted differently with the wounds and diseases they came into contact with. During a dark moon, I might be able to stop a person's vomiting with a simple digestive potion, but the same potion would have no effect on a patient with the same symptom if the moon was waning or it might make matters worse if administered during the full moon. Trial and error, as crude as it may sound, was the only way I was able to make any headway. The results of said experiments were all jotted down in a small black leather book that was tucked in the belt around my waist, a protective rune hidden just under the cover, making it impossible for anyone but myself to read its contents. 

Kingsley thought nothing of it, mostly because he didn't know that I had anything to do with sudden improvement or worsening of conditions amongst his patients. I intended to keep it that way for as long as I could, or at the very least until the end of this war that Queen Anne was so insistent upon waging. 

We trotted onward, surrounded on either side by pine trees and fog, dense and chilling in the early autumn air. The sun was hidden behind a heavy layer of gray clouds, the smell of petrichor hung over us warning of the impending autumnal rains that were sure to hit the shore at any time. The encampment for doctors and their associates was just past the bend in the road ahead, supposedly nestled amongst the pines beside the sheer cliffs of the Acadian shoreline. The not-so-distant sound of crashing waves roared and receded in its powerful, natural rhythm as we trotted on.

As we moved to the right of the road to take the bend, I felt a sudden presence, ancient and dark, reaching out to me from within the darkness beneath the trees. I tugged on the reins, bringing my mount to a halt as I scanned my surroundings. Under my breath, I muttered, "Mater divina me defendat hodie." 

A seductive chuckle echoed in my ear, though I couldn't tell what direction it came from. My head began to swivel back and forth, trying to find the source, only stopping when I came face-to-face with a woman dressed in hues of black and green. The cloak she wore seemed to fade into wisps of smoke as she stood not but five feet from me, a crown that appeared to crafted from fossilized thorns and obsidian resting atop the hood she wore. She had an entertained half-smirk upon her darkly painted lips, her eyes deep brown as the earth as they met my hazel gaze. 

"Prayers aren't going to get you anywhere, princess. Not here, at least." she said with a bit of a laugh. My horse snorted and began to spook, shuffling away from the woman with a frightened snort. Not wanting to agitate her further, I slid from her back and let my boots land softly on the grass, keeping the reins in one hand as I tilted my head at the woman before me. 

"You seem... familiar to me, and yet I know I've never seen you before in my life." 

"I get that a lot." 

There was a change of the light for only a moment, but in that brief time, I saw that the attractive face of the woman in front of me had changed. The lower half of her skull was exposed, no sinew or flesh to cover it, no blood or muscle to keep it living and the exposure spread down to her throat, where her esophagus sat nestled between two walls of cartilage. Just as quickly as the change appeared, it reverted back, and recognition hit me like a wall of stone. 

"Lady Death." I whispered. 

She smirked again, "In the flesh." 

I should have been terrified, scared to... well, death. But there was something about her that told me there was no need for fear. She wasn't here for me. So why was she standing in front me now?

"Why reveal yourself to me?"

She shrugged and began to circle me and my horse slowly, "There's something about you... you're important. And as much as I hate having Lunar witches walking around, you need to stick around for a while."

"That’s not an answer."

"Are you sure?"

I glared at her. She continued to smile back. When I wouldn’t relent, her grin dropped and she rolled her eyes. 

"You do know that most Lunar witches don’t live longer than a century, right?"

"I’m aware I’m on a doomed path.” I replied, trying to mask the slight tremble of my voice with a sharp edge, “A Lunar witch comes around maybe once every three hundred years. They never live long enough to teach the next one. Though I know you’re well aware of that."

"And yet, here I am, telling you that you’re the odd woman out."

"Why? What do you have to gain from my survival?"

Death scoffed at me, as if the whole concept of existence was amusing to her, "Nothing, actually. I'll lose more than I gain with you in the picture. But greater forces in this universe seem insistent on keeping you alive, so alive you’ll stay for now. But I must say, I'm looking forward to checking in on you over the next few centuries." 

I paled, there was no way to hide it, "What do mean?" 

"You're going into war, Aislin!" she exclaimed, as if it weren't obvious, "My favorite stomping grounds! We'll be seeing a lot of each other, I wager. Though I'm sure you'll be sick of me soon enough." 

She stopped her circling and looked to me full on, the intensity of her earthy eyes feeling as though they could bury me beneath the soil with just a hard enough glance. The around me seemed to shift, the petrichor smell growing steadily stronger. With a final smile, she offered me a sultry wave and said, "Te veo." 

And suddenly, I was alone in the clearing.

--------------------------------------------------

The doctors that had been summoned to serve did not take kindly to women in their presence. Of course, they had to tolerate the caretakers who sacrificed their white linens to the spatters of blood and fragments of flesh, but to have a woman stand among them as a student of the art, was far less palatable. After all, women had no place amongst the respectable ranks of surgeons and physicians, nor did the Iroquois healers who offered their services as their own warriors joined the British forces gathering on the coast, though given the choice, I'd have taken care from the Cayuga over Charles Cromwell any day. 

Kingsley found me as I led my horse on foot through camp aimlessly with my saddle pack and bedroll tucked under my free arm. He had taken no notice of my sudden absence, nor had he been subject to a surprise meeting with Death herself, but simply kept on riding to camp, claiming his large-framed tent and a much smaller one beside it. 

"Ah, did you get lost, Miss Stuart?" he asked me with a charming grin, "Or were you simply taking in the scenery?" 

"A bit of both I suppose." I answered honestly. I took my horse to the hitching post and tied her there, allowing her access to the trough and a bale of fresh hay before turning back to the young doctor. "Have I missed anything?" 

He shook his head, "Nothing at all. Lieutenant-General Nelson won't make landfall 'til midday on the 'morrow, at which time we'll board a smaller vessel and cross the channel to wait for incoming wounded and dead. I should warn you though, this siege may take weeks, months even. You still have time to return to Boston-"

I held up a hand to silence him, sending a sharp glare his way, "As much as I respect your offer, Rupert, I simply must decline. Despite the maliciously loud whispers I've heard about this camp already, I am most certainly needed here, so here I will stay. I do not shy away from the sword when it is flashed in my face." 

Kingsley's grin softened in understanding, a small nod rocked his head back and forth, "Spoken like a true fellow of medical academia, Miss Stuart. I suggest you take the evening to study, and if you're so inclined, I'd write to your family. Simply because we bear the caduceus, it does not mean we are immune from cannon and gun fire. You'll find all you need for the night in your tent."

Overhead, the skies finally broke, the satisfying drip of rainfall pattering against the trees and the waxed canvas tents. A few of the horses snorted in discontent but continued to eat away at the hay in front of them. As the heavy drops landed on our shoulders and heads, chilling us to the bone, we gave each other a silent farewell and retreated beneath the cover of our tents for the night. While I had no doubt that Kingsley's tent boasted all the necessary equipment he would need for operations and examinations, not to mention cigars and cheap liquor to numb his mind to the horrors incoming, mine was much reserved, containing only a camp bed with several woolen blankets, a pair of white cover aprons, and a small bedside table with a pair of lit candles.

Rupert must have placed the small stack of parchment on the table, along with an inkwell and quill. There was no way the other doctors would have extended such kindness to me, not when they didn't even want me there. Heaving a loud sigh, I dropped my bedroll and saddle pack onto the ground at my feet. I slumped onto the camp bed and let my head fall into my hands, my interaction with Death replaying over and over again in my mind.

She had told me that I was important, though at the moment, I couldn't possibly see how. And the way she had looked at me, as though I were a fresh piece of bloodied meat and she was a ravenous wolf... it was unsettling, though I suppose she always intended to be. 

"Oh, Divine Mother, what have you gotten me into?" I whispered, so softly that even I could barely hear myself. I dropped my hands and let my eyes wander back to the parchment on the small wooden table. I don't know how long I sat there staring at it, but by the time I had come to the conclusion to write, the gentle shower outside had increased to a torrential downpour, the weight of the water pounding against the roof of the tent as I dipped the quill into the murky black ink. As I took hold of the topmost sheet, I paused, wondering if sending a letter would make any difference. But then I thought of her, and the doubt melted away. I put the quill to the parchment and began to write in my most elegant script. 

Darling Agatha,

I hope that this letter finds you in suitable spirits after we departed on such egregious terms. Not that I fear for your well-being; I know you are certainly capable of taking care of yourself. I write to inform you that I have undertaken a task most unbecoming for women of our talents and station, serving as the student and assistant of one Doctor Rupert Kingsley of Boston. We, in response to the request made by the British Crown, have joined a cohort of other physicians and surgeons at a posting in Acadia, not thirty miles from the French stronghold of Port Royal, and are awaiting the order to cross the channel to provide medical assistance during the attempted siege of the fort. 

Having not heard from you in well over a decade, I am certain that you did not intend to seek me out again, and in truth, I was hesitant to write. But I am told that we, like the soldiers who will march onto the shore, will be subject to the shock and awe of war, and at the risk of walking into the next world without having settled the grievances between us, I found the courage to pen this letter. 

You may no long care for me, you may no longer wish to think of me, but I think of you often. And I shall be thinking of you on the 'morrow, when cannons roar overhead and the blood of dying men coats my hands. I shall be thinking of the days we spent in the peaceful solitude of the forest, relishing in the quiet hours that we spent together. I shall be thinking of you not as someone I once knew, but as someone I know and care for. For a witch should never abandon her coven and I, in my own anger and fear, have abandoned you.

It is my hope that upon my, with any luck inevitable, survival, that we may cross paths again, and I will once again be able to relish in peace with you as we once did. Until then, I shall think of you, darling, and hope that you think of me. 

With all my love, 

Aislin Stuart

I set the quill down and folded the parchment carefully once the ink had dried. Muttering a simple sending incantation, I lifted the letter to the candle on the left and let one corner light, before repeating the gesture with the candle on the right. I gripped the parchment tight between my fingers as the flames inched closer to my hand until I could no longer hold it. As I released my grip, I whispered, "Agatha Harkness." 

The ashes scattered in an invisible wind, drifting beneath the canvas walls of the tent and carrying my message to wherever she was. I lay back on my bed, and started at the roof in the eerie quiet, only drifting off to sleep when thunder finally began to roll in.  

[none-duh-nah]

satoru who does not like you back!headcannons

warning: angst with little confort if you squint, sad satoru, talks of arranged marriage, a lil about 'reproducing'

satoru who does not like you back! flirts with you shamelessly. he sometimes gets you souvenirs from his trip which u later find out was handed to everyone. when u ask him about this he tells you that the one he got for you is special. You roll your eyes at him but a part of your delusional self who was madly in love with him believes it.

satoru who does not like you back! often ghosts you suddenly but then comes back in your life like it never happened. you never asked him about it because a part of you feared to upset him. you didn't want him to take it seriously and never talk to you.

satoru who does not like you back! sometimes can be cheeky and will butter you up to do all his paper work and you sometimes do it for him, one because you like him very much and also because you notice that he is tired.

satoru who does not like you back! is a pain to deal with because he even makes marriage jokes which gets your heart skipping multiple beats. you think you might actually collapse talking to him.

satoru who does not like you back! sees you as a good friend because you're always there for him and sometimes try to be extra nice to him.

satoru who does not like you back! doesn't suspect anything first. he slowly but surely catches on. he brushes it off multiple times. maybe your just a really good person thats why you stood in line and got him his fav mochi. maybe you wanted him to owe you. maybe you actually did get it as a gift from someone but disliked the mochi and offered it to him. he wanted to believe in everything execpt the fact that you liked him.

satoru who does not like you back! is unable to escape the truth when shoko tells him to ask you out because "you guys are flirting like teenagers" and she can "see the hearts in your eyes" satoru's heart froze in the worst way possible then. he didn't want hearts to be in your eyes as you spoke to him. what shoko doesn't know is that satoru didn't like you like that.

satoru who does not like you back! is frustrated. he had never thought of you like that. he admits to flirting but he had never been that open with you and he even wanted to say he treated you nothing speacial but that would be untrue and unfair.

satoru who does not like you back! always finds himself dreading that day when you would reveal your feelings. he was already arranged to marry a woman who would give him the best heir and since he didnt have a lover, he was not opposed to that. hell he didn't like you like that at all.

satoru who does not like you back! tries to think of a solution as if to be friends with you but not lead you on. he comes up empty handed and finally acepts that he needs to cut down the time he spent with you to none.

he starts avoiding you and reader who likes satoru! is confused and kinda heart broken. she tries to contact him, reaching out to him multiple times only for it to be in vain.

satoru who doesn't like you back! avoids all your calls like plague. he misses talking to you and kinda gets sad when you finally give up trying to get him to talk to you. he tells himself that it is for your own good.

satoru who does not like you back! smiles sadly to himself that he can't ever let anyone love him, whether he likes them back or not. he takes pride in the fact that he is not making anyone suffer because of his emotional baggage but some times finds himself imagining how life would be if he let himself fall for you and your kind heart that always wanted to see him smile. he imagines what it would be like if he could marry someone who loved him rather than a woman who'd meet him once a month and would in her words 'copulate for a heir' .

satoru who convinces himself that he doesn't like you back! gladly adds this to his list of regrets to dwell on when he finds himself numb to emotions. a list of regrets that keeps him sad enough to not became a a true monster.

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

Not wanted (part 1)

Pairing : Daemon Targaryen x Chubby fem reader

Summer : "The silver hair of the prince was blown by the slight breeze, his purplish gaze burned with an anger worthy of his dragon. Y/n although set back could observe the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. Daemon was in front of her father, Dark sister in hand."

Author’s note: hello, I post the first part of "Not wanted" now, so you don’t wait as much. Part two will probably be published during the week or else it will be two publications on Sunday. I hope you enjoy this first part. Enjoy your reading.

Trigger warning: mistakes have undoubtedly had to pass my vigilance, English not being my mother tongue they will be corrected.

Ao3 profile : Earenwen_Leafwhisper

---

There is a feeling, or will it be instinct, which tells you quietly that you are not wanted in a place, it can happen everywhere, whether in school, in the street, at work, but also in the family.

This feeling grows over time and it is not pleasant, the worst being the evening when the truth comes out. When your father is drunk with all the alcohol he has drunk since the beginning of the afternoon explains to you that you will never be born, that your life you owe to your mother who wanted more than anything in the world a child. That explains, a lot of things, like never having a "congratulations" when you achieve something, or a "I’m proud of you, I love you my daughter". No. Never, just "Did you see how fat you are?" "Stop reading", "Why don’t you read?" , being cut off at every moment, "Shut up!" followed by "Why don’t you answer me?". Little by little, all your self-esteem eventually crumbles, by a member of your closest family. There is also this question, "What would I do alone?" The moments when you imagine running away.

Being born on Westeros is not a dream life, whether we are peasants or nobles, we have our own personal hell. Yours is your father. Although not wanted, your father decided to do something with you, and marrying a second-rate lord was a good solution. His son, born of a first union, was already married to a lady from your region, strengthening the ties of the two families.

His son, he saw it differently, for him he had nothing to reproach himself. But to all the others, he was a frightful asshole, who amused himself by threatening servants and lords of smaller house than yours. Manipulating everyone around you, going so far as to threaten you, morally and physically, explaining clearly, that the day your father died, he would put you at the door of your castle. But you were just a ball and chain. Your father did not want to marry you, at the very beginning, prefer that no one speaks of you or shows interest, waiting for the coming years, he ends up wanting to see you leave with a lord, he could not see you when he was drunk, insulting you with various sentences, more or less painful, explaining that nobody would want you, the least that nothing. Deep down, he was bubbling, refusing to accept that someone was interested in you.

During the various tournaments in which he participated as spectator, he tried to find you a husband in vain, he reproached you, while it was his fault, because no lords had seen you in the flesh. The lords are trying hard to convince him to get you out of the castle, wanting to see who this misterieuse young woman was.

A date was chosen, those of the games organized by Lord Baratheon, for the adoubement of his eldest son.

---

To say that you were surprised would have been an understatement, your father, one morning sober, warned you or rather ordered you to be present at the games organize for the son Baratheon. Your mind worked very quickly, you felt fear mounted within you, your whole body became warm, your heart throbbing, you felt your blood flowing at the level of your temples, your hands became sweatly. With time you had learned not to believe the good news coming from your father because to each of them, hid a dark face, turning against you.

You instinctively understood that something was wrong. He had never wanted you to accompany the "family", you learned to appreciate the fact of not participating in banquets, the only semblance of banquets in which you had participated was in your very young childhood, during which only the houses vassal to yours participated and at the same time make your acquaintance, having seen you as a child at your mother’s side. Whether it was a courtesy visit or in the most difficult moments, you, the child who tried to do well to please his parents, but ended up seeing his father drunk, yelling at the guests who contradicted him on anything, (whether on the land or on the alcohol he ate) and who fell asleep on one of the benches aligned against a wall of the room, a knight winning up to your nurse in order to sleep safely.

As you grew up, you would stay back, observing in the dark the rare events taking place in your castle, seeing from your apartments, your brother’s wedding, do not participate in the festivities. In a sense you were grateful, you did not want to play this open-air play, where false pretenses were common, you could only wish good luck to the servants, knowing more than very well, that their work and reprimands would be much more severe than usual

Now you had to participate, was it a new way to humiliate yourself? To have you away from the castle so that your brother could make it his stronghold and abandon you in a place that you were unknown?

All possible reasons paraded in your mind, not even trying to find optimism in them.

---

The area of your family was quite far from the stromlands, the journey was long and winding, the summer was coming to an end, the roads formed of a mixture of earth and large stones, you avoided the forests anticipate the slightest attack of bandits who could have hidden in the trees and depths of the forest. You were traveling for the first time outside your castle and your father did not want to worry about looting in addition to having you nearby.

There were two carriages, in the first was your father, a mestre and his advisor. You were present in the second, more modest, made only of wood, without ornaments, made of the rest of the wood of an old carriage, a servant was at your side, helping you to sew a new dress, for the dinner in which you and your father would participate, dinner to help you find a husband. «New», was not the right word, you used fabric of old dresses that belonged to you to make your work. The jerky movements of the carriage made it difficult to sew, more than once you had pricked your fingers, fortunately there was no taste of blood spilled.

Your journey was calm, you stayed in the carriage most of the time, leaving only when you had no choice, escorted by your servant and a knight, you avoid your father, who over the days used up the small reserve of wine he took with him when you left. The less alcohol there was and the faster he started to be irritable. The slightest thing that was contrary to his desires was directly criticized, whether it was the singing of birds early in the morning, the wind blowing a little too loudly, or a knight of one’s armor needed to be oiled. Everything was a pretext for his moods, the rare moments when he was sober and asked how you lived the journey, and his drinking crises where he remembered for an eternal time painful moments for all and reproaching you, even if you had nothing in it.

---

After more than a fortnight of travel, you finally arrived on the edge of the ramparts of Storm’s End, gave you the impression of being gloomy, all its shades of dark color, made you think of the tales that your nanny told you before going to sleep. Your servant looked through the opening of the carriage opposite to yours, observing the little distance that separated you from your destination.

"My lady! Look! In the sky!"

Surprised by her sudden change in behavior, you looked, trying to understand why she had reacted in this way.

You squinted slightly, trying to look towards the clouds that were beginning to gather above the stromlands. It was just clouds, nothing new, just big gray clouds with white reflections. Whatever… There you seemed to see a darker point, moving, appearing and disappearing, moving in movements that did not seem to come from the wind. The more you concentrated, the more you had the impression that it was getting bigger and bigger. Your throbbing heart, you didn’t understand what you see.

"Sir Percival, do you see this form moving in the clouds?"

Sir Percival was a knight of of family who was loyal to yours for several generations, long before the conquest of Westeros by Aegon the conqueror. Percival seemed to be close to your father’s age, as far as you could remember, you had always known her. He had always encouraged you when you were a child doing a task that seemed impossible to you, unlike your father who always found subject to criticism.

Sir Percival mounted on his horse’s saddle, lifted his head, you could see from his profile that he was concentrating, you could see fine wrinkles forming in the corner of the eye that you could see.

“It seems Lady Y/n, that it is, a dragon.”

"A dragon?"

“Lady Rhaenys Targaryen is a cousin of the Baratheon House through her mother. It would not surprise me that other Targaryen would have been invited. Although tensions are still high between the two houses, with regard to the iron thrones. "

“Thank you Sir”

"With pleasure Lady Y/n"

When you put your head in the carriage you began to imagine how big the shape could become, what their dragon riders might look like. Lost in your thoughts, you whispered a sweet.

“Dragons…”

---

Tents stood against the ramparts of the city that was facing the castle. The long and heavy linen fabrics covered them, a ballet of color paraded on both sides of the central aisle. Shades of blue, green, yellow and other warm and cold colors contrasted against the walls of an anthracite gray. The tents closest to the doors were intended for the most noble houses and more precisely for their knights, small paths were formed between the tents, taking visitors in the direction of the tents of the vassal houses, whose tents became increasingly modest according to their ranks and riches.

From inside the carriage, you and your servant could smell scents of roasted meats, grilled vegetables and soups. The smells came from the outskirts of the enormous camp, where servants of vassal houses prepared meals on oak tables, suspended above the campfires, stood pots where various soups and stews marinated. Looking from the openings of the carriage, you could see the knights helping from their squires moving armor, swords, masses and shields towards the forges moving from the city to the camp. The noises they heard were a mixture of words, metal clapping, the neighing of horses and clogs clapping on the ground.

The coach stopped slowly arriving at the level of the places defined at the location of the future tents. Your house was not one of the largest houses of Westeros, but had known to keep its independence from the largest houses, bend the knee only in front of the Targaryen house, after several years of fierce war. Some people in your family had kept a deep resentment towards silver hair, prefer to have links with other houses in Westeros, hence their placement. Coming out of the carriage, you looked around, taking the time to remember every moment, knowing that she would risk being married to a person she did not know at the end of the games.

Your house was placed between the Stark and Tully houses. You had never met a person of the two houses, hearing of them only by the few bits of words coming from messenger or by the books about the conquest of Aegon. The people coming out of the main tent of the Stark house were preparing the beds, moving the weapon and armor racks, they too had to arrive shortly before you.

"You do not speak without permission, you do not look a lord or a lady in the eye, keep your head down, and most importantly! Don’t make me ashamed!"

The words of your father came out of your thoughts, since your departure from the castle, he had not spoken to you directly, you understood that he would not speak to you more, and kissed the head you understood that it was the best solution for the moment, no one present knew you except the knights of your house, no one would have stood up for you.

Sir Percival descended from his horse, standing beside you. He put his hand against your shoulder.

"Don’t worry Lady Y/n, I’m here."

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the years under your father’s yoke continue to pressure you.

"Shall I wait here until the tents are up?"

"No my lady, your father allows you to go around the camp, under the supervision of a knight."

"In that case, will you be prepared to accompany Sir Percival?"

"Of course."

Sir Percival, bowed gently in the direction of the young woman, letting his young squire take the reins of his horse, helmet under his arm, the knight began to walk beside the young woman, understanding more than his lord that the young woman needed it.

---

You felt several glances resting on you, despite everything you tried to keep your head high, constantly repeating to you, that your father did not see you, that he could not have concrete proof on your posture. The lord closest to your father looked at Sir Percival, recognizing the knight who at times accompanied Lord Y/f/n, they all watched the young woman round, recognizing for the most observant, the few features she shared with her father. So she was the young woman?

Murmurs began to roam the tents, first of all the less noble houses, clearly understanding that it was their chance to assert their houses in order to win ranks to theirs. The noblest houses were the most reluctant, the lords knew enough Y/f/n to know that your presence was hiding something. Never had your father talked about you, no hint, nothing. You could be legitimate just like a bastard they knew nothing about. A union between the two families by your blood did not guarantee the loyalty of the Y/h/n family, or even your legitimacy. There was still a positive point, your house, was known to have stood up to the Targaryen, it was powerful, but the disadvantage came from one man. Lord Y/f/n Y/h/n. Your father. Who of his problems with alcohol, became one of the most detestable men of Westeros, be it his words invaded with a hatred towards any man not thinking in the same way as him, refusing the slightest annoyance, and his bad manners, he turned and farted without any shame, whether during dinners, the shawl or in interviews when they took place at night.

Some shameless lords were already beginning to want to bring their sons closer, thinking they understood that your father could be overthrown quickly in case of an alliance, but the knight accompanying you watched over the grain, He threw black glances at people who observed too insistently his protégé. Fortunately all the families present were not insistent, greeting you simply out of politeness, resuming their activities just after.

From your walk in the central aisle, you could see the affinities of noble houses from their positions, the north remained mainly between them, the south with the south and then there were some houses that did not remain according to their geolocations on Westeros, But by their wedding rings, the children came and went from tents to tents, laughing at each other in a game that annoyed adults.

Looking at them you felt a slight pinch in the heart, you had never known a real moment of innocence to play with other children except one or two children of servants who ended up punished. Only your nanny and some knights kept you company, trying to alleviate the boredom of the little girl you were.

But of all the looks on you, you could never have imagined that one of them would have made you miss a heartbeat.

---

From both ends of the long alley stood two very large tents, of red and black color. From the location that the house Y/h/n, moving in the direction of the right stood the largest and most flamboyant in its shades of red, it was almost contiguous to the large door, this one raised flags of a red tricephal dragon on a black background. Many knights and servants moved in and around the tent, but no silver heads were visible.

“The king is very weak, he must have sent fighters on his behalf for the games.”

It was Percival, who saw the curiosity in your eyes, had spoken.

“In this case, who owns the second tent? It also carries the dragon.”

Percival concentrated, trying to understand why the Targaryen could have been divided into two parts. The Velaryons stood between the royal tent and the knights fighting under the banner of the Baratheon. In this case, the crown wanted to show that the union between the houses was maintained, although the princess was not the future queen. Who was in the second tent? To this Percival had no answer.

"I’m afraid I don’t know, lady Y/n. "

“It is nothing, we will probably learn in the coming days.”

You were right, when you returned to the tent of your house, you could see the second Targaryen tent grow. Unlike the royal tent, it was mainly composed of linen from a jet black. Two banners in the colors of the Targaryen were placed on both sides of the opening. There was very little movement around, the tent seemed almost deserted.

Almost.

A snap of armor was heard, you turned around at the same time as Percival and saw several knights walking quickly in your direction, Percival just had time to grab your arm and shoot at him, preventing you from being rushed. Slightly under the surprise, you did not pay much attention to the number of knights, or even to the fact that they did not apologize. The only thing that captivated your attention was a hair color that you had never seen beyond book to screen, silver hair, your eyes very easily found those that belonged to the person with silver hair. The purple eyes were almost hypnotic, you never thought possible that it exists, it took you a few seconds to turn away, not without fighting. In front of you, a man who seemed barely older walked, he was dressed in black with small touches of dark red. If at first the man’s gaze was surprised, it was quickly changed by a smirk. You felt your breath stay in your throat, time seemed to you to last an eternity. Although in reality your exchange of gaze did not last more than two minutes.

Percival with his protective arm around you, looked at the man younger than him, he growled. He understood why a second tent was present. Prince Daemon Targaryen would participate in his games, and this no longer in Percival. The prince since the appointment of Viserys as successor to the throne, was in dispute with the royal family, rumors about his adventures in the bordelles spanked numerous as his disrespect for people he did not see as his equal, refusing the arranged marriage with Lady Rhea Royce. The rogue prince was not someone the fathers wanted their daughters to meet. Percival though merely your protector feared that the prince would fall under his spell, not for the punishment he would have had, but he only wanted to protect you.

---

On the first night, Y/f/n ordered his knights and servants to keep you inside your tent, refusing to let you speak to anyone before he begins the bargain of your future marriage. He didn’t want you to undermine his progress, not noticing your look lost in the void.

Although you could not get out of the tent, the servants kept the entrance open allowing everyone to see what was happening outside, finding agreements with the servants of the nearby noble houses to say nothing to their lords.

You were sitting near the entrance and looking out, seeing that the movements of the day had faded by the time the noblest houses had come to the opening dinner of the games. You kept hoping you could see the silver-haired man again before your father came back, but he didn’t seem to have left his tent.

This is what you believed, because under a cloak with the hood up, the young prince was out, wanting to enjoy the night outside the large camp. He saw you from the corner of his eye, a servant was taking care of your hair (long/short, thin/thick, lise/curly/frizzy, etc.) y/hair/c.

Daemon was intrigued, he had already met your father on very rare occasions, as well as your half-brother. Oh more than once, the desire for murder had risen in his mind, he could still bear the Baratheons, but these two men, were detestable. Daemon wondered who this round young woman was, having never heard of her. Something in her attracted him, but he did not know what it was and he did not like it.

---

The night gave way to the days, the first games started at dawn, the archery tournament was on the outskirts of the city, long lines of targets next to each other butted in front of wooden bleachers. Ropes prevented the peasants from meeting the nobles. Your house was divided in two, the closest to the ground you were sitting with your servant, you had to keep your head low, feeling the heavy look of your father in the back, this one was two rows above you.

Daemon, from his place, standing back from the royal family, held a goblet of wine in his left hand, he tried to keep his gaze in the direction of the archers who were advancing, but was without hope. His gaze turned away at the slightest opportunity in your direction, he could see that since night, your posture had changed. From a straight posture, you had bent the spine letting appear some curves that he had not yet seen and which did not displease him, observing what was behind you, he saw Y/f/n, of which the black look was directed in your direction, while he seemed to speak with the lord next to him. Daemon despised this scene.

“You seem to be more interested in the Y/h/n house than in the tournament, my prince.” a lord who Daemon had forgotten the name, just spoken.

"If you please, my prince, it would seem that Lord Y/h/n wishes to bride his daugther although with her age I doubt that the lords are interested, they prefer them younger."

This lord annoyed Daemon, whether by his words or by his innuendo.

“At the same time, what did he think of his daughter, she only whas the second child, and of a second wife, his son will inherit everything.”

The second child… Daemon knew what it was like to be the second, more than anyone else.

---

[badkitty3000]

You Can't Go Home Again

Chapter 7 (Final)

Link to Chapter 6

Link to Chapter 5

Link to Chapters 3 and 4

Link to Chapters 1 and 2

All Five wants to do is rest. But when yet another apocalypse threatens to doom them all, he doesn't have that luxury. This time, the only solution for the Hargreeves to try and save the world is to unite Five with another, alternate version of himself.

Five starts to spiral when he is faced with the alternate life that he could have had, if only he hadn't gone and ruined everything. But maybe, just maybe, there's still time for him to obtain the happy ending he deserves.

An alternate season three rewrite for a request I received.

This is the final chapter! Thank you everyone that has been following this story!

Warnings: None

Chapter Seven: The Idea of Happiness

The three men appeared out of the portal, stumbling into the living room of the house. There was a collective sigh of relief from the other siblings when they saw Five and Klaus were still in one piece. Marie gave a short shriek of surprise from them appearing out of nowhere, but as soon as she saw her husband she started to make her way over to him. She stopped as soon as she saw Reginald’s pistol that was still in his hand.

“What are you doing with a gun, Five?” she asked warily.

Her Five’s eyebrows drew together in confusion until he looked down and remembered he had been holding it when they teleported out of the Academy.

“Oh, shit,” he said to himself. “I’m sorry…it’s…”

“Here,” Five said, taking it out of his hand with an exaggerated eye roll and shoving it in the back of his pants.

After the gun was put away, Marie approached her husband again, looking at him curiously, as if seeing him for the first time. She stared into his eyes, her own filling up with tears again.

“You left,” she said, her voice barely audible. “You left us.” When he went to take her hand, she pulled it away with a shake of her head.

“Marie, I’m sorry. I was just so angry, I felt like I had to do something to –” His apology was cut short when his wife slapped him hard across the face. The rest of the adults in the room cringed and let out a collective “Ooooh.”

“That’s gotta hurt,” Klaus whispered to Lila.

“What I wouldn’t give to smack either one of these wankers across the face,” she responded, not quite as quietly as Klaus. “She’s got good form, though, I’ll give her that.”

As the other Five was recovering from his slap, Marie’s anger started building. “You selfish bastard! What were you trying to prove, huh?”

“I’m sorry. But I wasn’t leaving you or the kids, I promise. That was the whole point. I had the watch, so I was returning right away.”

“But you didn’t even tell me! Where the hell did you go anyway? And why do you have a gun? I demand some goddamn answers, Five! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”

Until now, Five had assumed Marie was a sweet, soft-spoken woman that never raised her voice. But as soon as he saw her losing her shit, he had to smile. Of course his other version would be married to a woman with some fight in her. That only made sense.

Five didn’t really want to piss her off anymore, but he felt obligated to step in. “Marie, he wasn’t going to leave you. That’s the truth. We would never do that.” She and her Five both looked at him in surprise because he had used the word we. “I understand what he did and why. The urge to protect your family at all costs is a strong one.” Five looked around at his siblings. “Sometimes it makes you do stupid shit like getting them stranded decades in the past, or in a completely wrong timeline.” He turned back to Marie. “But I can assure you it was all done out of his love for you. Because that’s what we do.”

Klaus put a hand to his heart and was about to say something about Five being a big softy after all, but Lila clapped a hand over his mouth.

“All of that is true,” the other Five said. “And I can explain everything to you. But right now, I think our guests need to get going.”

As if on cue, another kugel wave shot through the house, accompanied by the thunderous sound of the row of houses across the street breaking off and disappearing, leaving a giant chasm in its wake. The universe was collapsing at an accelerated rate, with whole sections of the earth cracking off into the void.

As everyone gasped, Five nodded. “It’s now or never.”

“Wait!” Marie cried, hurrying off to the other room.

While she was gone, Jack suddenly blinked out of the room, as well.

“Where the hell is everyone going?” Five’s other self asked before looking down at Maddie. The little girl just shrugged.

In another second, Jack was back, blinking into the living room again and directly in front of Five. He held out a small plastic baggie with cookies inside. “Blinking makes me hungry, so I figured you probably get that way too. So, in case you need a snack, here. They’re chocolate chip.”

Five reached for the bag and inspected it. “Chocolate chip is my favorite kind. How did you know?”

Jack laughed. “Cause that’s my dad’s favorite, too!”

Five chuckled and put the bag in his back pocket. “Thank you, Jack. You keep an eye on your sister and keep practicing those blinks, ok?”

The little boy nodded before throwing his arms around Five’s small waist, pulling away again before Five could react. Then he was gone across the room in a flash again.

At that moment, Marie came hurrying in, carrying a garment bag on a hanger. She shoved it at Five. “Here. I cleaned it as best I could. The dry cleaner was destroyed, so I had to improvise. But I figured you’d want your own clothes when you got back home.”

Five took the suit from her with a shy smile. “Thank you, Marie. That was not necessary, but I appreciate it very much. And thank you for letting us invade your home.”

She nodded. “I’d say come back anytime, but that would probably mean disaster for all of us if you did.”

The rest of the siblings gathered around, thanking Marie for her hospitality and the other Five for helping them get out of there. Allison hugged the kids, getting misty eyed with the thought that maybe she’d get to see Claire again soon.

Five turned to his doppelganger. The two men regarded one another, not knowing what to say. What was there to say? Thanks for letting me get wasted and have an existential crisis in your basement. Thanks for talking me out of killing our father who’s not really our father because of my childhood trauma. See you at the next fucked-up family reunion!

After a few seconds of pondering, they didn’t say anything. It wasn’t really necessary, anyway. They were the same person, just slightly different models. Their thoughts were essentially the same. They knew what the other would say if there was more time or if either of them had more emotional capacity.

Instead, they just nodded at one another with small smiles.

Five programmed his watch and stood in the center of the room while his siblings and Lila gathered around. With the earth cracking loudly outside the home and a fiery glow coming from the windows, they each put a hand on one of Five’s shoulders or arms, like spokes off the central hub of a wheel.

With one more look at his other self, Five put his finger on the activation button. “Let me know how this turns out.” And then they were gone.

*********************************************************

Falling onto the floor in a groaning heap, the seven of them pushed and rolled off of one another, trying to get their bearings and stand up again.

“Gross…get off me!” Viktor whined as he tried to shove Lila off the top of him.

Lila smirked and climbed off, ruffling Viktor’s hair in the process. “You’re welcome for that.”

“Ow, get your boot off my face!” Allison yelled at Klaus.

“Well, get your face off my boot!”

Five tried unsuccessfully to pull his leg out from where it was pinned under Luther. “Get off my leg before you snap it in half, asshole!”

“Oh shit, sorry, Five.”

“Everyone move…I’m going to be sick again!” Diego moaned as he tried to scramble away from the group on his hands and knees.

“It’s ok, honey, there’s a plant in the corner over there,” Lila said with a sigh.

With more groans and grumbles, the group finally righted themselves and took a look around.

“I think we did it,” Luther exclaimed after seeing they were once again in the Academy foyer.

“Don’t assume anything,” Five said warily as he started casing the room, looking for clues as to what date, and more importantly, what timeline they were in.

Allison picked up the newspaper on the front table. “Ok, this is a good sign.” She held it up for everyone to see. “March 24th, 2019.”

Five snatched it out of her hand and started rifling through the pages. “Reginald Hargreeves is dead. The Umbrella Academy and all of our names are mentioned. No sign of the Sparrows. Ok, yeah, this could be good.”

The sound of high heels clicking on the floor caused all of their heads to jerk up in unison. No one said anything as Grace appeared in the doorway, wearing her pink polka-dot dress and usual cheery smile.

“Oh, there you kids are! I’m sure everyone is hungry after the funeral, so I’ve put dinner in the oven and it should be ready shortly.” She looked over at Lila with another smile. “And it seems we have a guest! How lovely. I’ll be sure to set an extra place.”

“Mom?” Diego said weakly from the floor next to the potted plant he’d just barfed into. “You’re ok. And not…weird.”

“Of course I’m ok, silly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Mom? Do you know anything about the Sparrows?” Luther asked.

Grace hesitated for a moment. “Sparrows? Well, we certainly get a lot of those brown little creatures at the birdfeeder every day. They do like to make a mess with the seeds, though.”

Everyone let out a sigh of relief and Grace smoothed her skirt down. “Alright, then. Dinner is in fifteen minutes sharp.”

“This is good, right?” Klaus asked Five, who was still reluctant to declare things safe just yet.

Before he could answer, more familiar footsteps could be heard approaching. This time they were accompanied by the tap of a cane on the floor. The siblings stiffened for a moment before Pogo came into view, looking not so thrilled. He paused in the doorway and took everyone in thoughtfully, his gaze landing on Lila for a moment, but not saying anything. Then he turned to Luther.

“Master Luther,” he started before addressing Diego on the floor, “Master Diego. I am greatly disappointed in your behavior at your father’s funeral today. I expect you two to clean up the courtyard and repair your brother’s statue that you desecrated with your childish antics. And I expect you to do it without further incident. Is that clear?”

The two brothers were instantly cowed by the remarks and they nodded their heads guiltily. “Yes Pogo,” they both said meekly.

“Good,” said the chimp with a tap of his cane for emphasis. “Now, I would love to have a nice dinner with the entire family here before all of you children return to your lives. Can we do that?”

“Yes Pogo,” everyone said with a nod.

“Very good. I shall see you at the dinner table, then.”

As Pogo shuffled away and out of sight, the siblings were left standing and staring at one another in shock.

“I think we did it,” Five finally said.

“If this is the day of Dad’s funeral, that means I haven’t met Leonard yet. I won’t destroy the moon,” Viktor said.

“And I haven’t gone to Vietnam or met Dave,” Klaus said a little sadly.

“Claire!” Allison cried with a smile before rushing off to use the phone in the hallway.

“Patch is still alive.” Diego looked at Lila and grabbed her hand with a squeeze. “I’ll explain some things.”

Luther shrugged, looking around the room. “I guess I’m back from the moon for good.”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Five and he suddenly felt very exposed. They all had lives to return to and resume like normal. All of them except for him.

“What are you going to do, Five?” Klaus asked.

He shook his head. “I’m…I’m not sure.” Then he cleared his throat and grabbed the hanging bag with his clean suit from off the floor. “Shower and change for one. And I advise you all to do the same. You smell like shit.” Then he was gone in a blink without another word.

******************************************************

Back in his old room in the attic, Five sat on the edge of his bed. The extra-long shower he had taken had felt good, but he was still anxious. He had fixed it, he thought. So far nothing had appeared out of the ordinary from when they had left a couple of weeks ago. But that didn’t mean something horrible wasn’t lurking around the corner, ready to pull the rug out from under them. There was something else gnawing at him, though. And that was the fact that even if things were completely back to normal, what did that mean for him?

Five ran a hand down his face and glanced around his room. Everything was how he remembered it. This time there was no manic math on the walls and Dolores wasn’t there with him. His first thought was that he should go out and find her, just like he did before. But so much had happened to him since then, and something just felt wrong. He had let her go once before. He needed to do it again.

When his eyes landed on his desk, he noticed something that had not been there before; a bottle of what looked like whiskey. Getting up to get a closer look, Five saw that it was the exact same whiskey that he had polished off in his other self’s basement a couple of days ago. Next to the bottle, written on a piece of paper that had been lying on the desk, was a note in his handwriting.

“Everything restored. Life is good.”

Five picked up the note and then looked at the bottle. With a slow smile creeping over his face, he shook his head. “Asshole had to show me up again.”

*********************************************************

As Five stood in front of his wardrobe mirror, fixing the knot on his tie and straightening his suit jacket, there was a knock on the door.

“Five, dear…dinner is ready. Are you coming down?”

“Yeah, be right there, Mom,” he called, catching himself off guard by the automatic response to something that hadn’t been said in decades.

He paused, his hands still at his tie, as he heard Grace’s heels click back down the stairs. He stared into the same thirteen year-old eyes that he had looked into in that very mirror so long ago. He always was the last one of the kids to arrive at the table; always blinking in at the last second right before Reginald would come striding in. Five always had more important things to be doing other than joining his family for meals and being forced to listen to whatever bullshit their father was “instilling” in them that day. He had physics to study, and books to read. He needed to sneak out of the fire escape just to get out of the house and breathe for once. He needed to work on his spatial jumps. Anything but spend time with his family.

With a hard swallow and one more adjustment of his tie, he grabbed the whiskey bottle off the desk and took a swallow. He had already helped himself to about a quarter of the bottle so far, and he expected to have it finished off before the night was over. But right now, he was still relatively sober, and he set the bottle back down before blinking away to join his siblings at the table.

Dinner was loud and lively as everyone talked over one another excitedly, passing dishes and laughing. Pogo sat in their father’s seat and looked on with an amused smile, just happy to have his children all back in the same house again. Lila sat in Ben’s old seat, which she had initially felt very awkward about, but everyone assured her it was ok. She was family now and Ben wouldn’t have minded. Grace moved in and out of the room, bringing in more platters of food and refilling glasses, all with the same beautiful smile plastered on her face. She patted Diego on the shoulder on her way past and he smiled up at her with a mouthful of food.

As everyone chattered away about how they were going to restart their lives in a more positive way now that they were offered a second chance, Five sat in silence and ate his food slowly. The longer he listened to his siblings’ plans, the better he felt inside. He had done it. He had finally accomplished what he’d sworn to himself to do 45 years ago. His family was safe and the world was in one piece. Even his other self in a completely separate timeline was presumably happy and with his family. Five smiled as he looked out over the table.

“What about you, Fivey?” Klaus asked, pointing a fork at his smaller brother. “You going to go back to school or something?”

Five frowned. “Why would I do that?”

Allison leaned forward to talk to him. “Well, you’re welcome to come stay with me and Claire in L.A. I have plenty of room.”

Five shook his head. “No…thank you…I…I’m not sure what I’m going to do just yet.”

“Well,” Luther started, looking a little nervous. “We were talking earlier…all of us…about maybe, you know, helping you out a little.”

“Yeah,” Viktor added. “We want to make sure you’re ok. You’ve been through a lot and you haven’t really been dealing with it that great.”

Five’s initial reaction was to snap back and tell them he didn’t need any of their pity or their help; that he was doing just fine. But, of course, that wasn’t true and he just didn’t have the energy to fight with them anymore.

“I appreciate your concern,” Five said. “But you can’t help me.”

Lila groaned. “Oh, come on, you little shit. Don’t be such a martyr.”

“Thank you, Lila, and also, fuck you,” Five stated plainly before turning back to the rest of his siblings. “I’m not trying to be a martyr. I can admit I’m not doing great. But you can’t help me. None of you can.  

“Master Five, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you like. The Academy will always be your home,” Pogo interjected.

Five nodded. “Thank you, Pogo. But I can’t stay here, either.”

Diego spoke up. “But where are you going to live or work? You’re a kid. Or, you know, you look like one anyway.”

“And the drinking…” Luther added.

Five held up a hand. “I know, I know. I admit, it doesn’t bode well for me. And I promise to get a handle on the drinking. But for right now, I need to figure some things out on my own.”

There was silence around the table and then Five laughed. No one had ever heard Five laugh without it being followed by a snarky remark that was usually aimed at one of them. They exchanged nervous glances.

“Really, guys, I’m going to be ok,” Five insisted. “At least, I’m going to try and be ok.”

“We just want you to be happy, Five,” Viktor told him.

“I know,” Five said with a sad smile. “I’m not sure happiness is in the cards for me, Viktor, but thank you for saying that.”

************************

As the sunlight filtered through the grimy window of his bedroom and spread across his face, Five stirred. After drinking down the rest of the whiskey the night before, accompanied by Jack’s cookies, Five had tried to come up with as many solutions to his problem as possible. He was smart, he could figure out a way to live independently in this body; he just needed to think.

Stumbling up from the bed where he had passed out on top of the covers in just his suit pants and undershirt, Five made his way over to the desk again. Squinting down at the notebook where he had been listing various ideas, he noticed how his writing had gotten less legible the drunker he got. He also noticed how the ideas became increasingly dumber.

“Join the circus?” he said out loud before flopping down in the chair. “Jesus, I’m an idiot.” With a sigh he looked over the rest of the list. Nothing written there was actually helpful or made much sense. Which was exactly what Five had been afraid of. “Fuck.”

There was only one real answer to all of this, and Five had known it as soon as they had come crashing back into the mansion yesterday. He’d know it longer than that, actually. It had always been in the back of his mind; he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. But there was no getting around it now.

Unless he wanted to live the next five or six years in the custody of one of his siblings, Five was going to have to go back to being the person he hated the most. An assassin for the Commission.

He had thought about staying there at the Academy, maybe for a couple of weeks, almost like a vacation, and to maybe try and dry out a little. But that was just another dumb idea he had. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be. And he was fooling himself if he thought he wouldn’t drink himself half to death if left alone with nothing to do for days at a time.

There was another very real concern, too. And that was that he was fairly sure it was just a matter of time before they started looking for him again. They had returned to the beginning, and a gang of angry Commission agents were probably on their way right now to find him and drag him back or kill him. So, it was best if he just went willingly this time. If he couldn’t spare himself, he could at least spare his family.

Five had decided, though, that if they wanted him back there was going to be some changes. He had no idea what state the Commission was in at the moment. So many timelines had been fucked up in his little journey through space and time that he wasn’t sure if the Handler was dead or alive, or if AJ was still in charge, or someone else. Either way, Five knew he was their greatest asset, and he wasn’t going to come slinking back with his tail between his legs.

He had specific demands and allocations that he was prepared to negotiate for. He was no longer going to be one of their drones that worked for them unquestionably until he was killed in the line of duty. No, he knew his worth. If he was going to walk back into that building again, things were going to be different. Five was a fucking Commission legend, and it was time he was treated like one.

He wanted his own apartment in the real world, not in Commission headquarters, so that he could visit and keep tabs on his siblings. He didn’t want to be tracked wherever he went, so no microchip this time. He wanted to be able to pick the jobs with full power to turn them down for any reason.

He would sign their five-year contract, but if those additions were not added, then there would be no deal.

If they had a problem with that, then, that was going to be their big mistake. Because Five had no problem fighting and outrunning them for the rest of his life; using up their precious resources and all of their best field agents in the process. Bring it on. He had nothing else to do.

After another shower and change back into his Academy uniform because the suit was pretty ripe by now and the clothes Marie had given him made him feel somehow younger, Five stood at the top of the staircase. He could hear his family down there, laughing, talking, and arguing. The sound of clinking silverware and the smell of his mother’s cooking was drifting upwards. He could even make out a soft chuckle from Pogo.

There was that moment of panic again. Five could feel it, reaching up from his guts and wrapping its hand tightly around his heart. He reached up to loosen his tie and tried to take in big breaths of air. He wanted to join them. To walk breezily down the stairs, grab a plate and sit down at the table to join in their conversation. He wanted to chat with Pogo about some of the interesting physics theories he had studied up on during his alone time in the Apocalypse. He longed to sit quietly at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper while Grace went about her chores, listening to her hum her happy little tunes.

But he couldn’t. Despite what Pogo had told him, this was not his home anymore. It hadn’t been in many years. Five needed to move on, no matter how hard that was. He wasn’t a stranger to hardship, so for him this was just another kick in the nuts that life was throwing at him. This time, though, he wasn’t going to stay away. He had survived and saved his siblings for a reason, and he wasn’t going to throw all of that away now. So, he would come back from time to time. He would keep in touch and hopefully watch them flourish and have families of their own.

And who knows, maybe Five would luck out. Maybe down the road he could knock off the booze and meet someone special to share his life with. Maybe he could have his own home and family one day. His other self had shown him he was capable of it. Five doubted it, but maybe he could find his own happiness with the right person.

Nothing was impossible.

If anyone is interested in my other works, here is a link to my Masterlist ❤️

@kaybreezy3000 @lunalovesangst

[fmajorenthusiast]

I wrote a little fanfic about Magenta helping Riff practice his proposal to my OC Cordelia!!! I'm not sure if it's too AU centered to make sense (there might be a few parts at the end that don't quite work yet lol) but I do feel ready to share it!!!

Here it is under the cut!!! :D

Tags: fluff, comedy, Riff and Mag are king and queen of Transsexual!!!

Riff Raff inhaled and exhaled fast and deep as his heart pounded like a drum. More so a drum that was about to break because it was being hit so hard. He was pacing around the room and rubbing his back like a madman.

"It's ok, Riff Raff! It's ok, Riff Raff! Everything's going to be just fine!" He assured himself as he felt his whole body tingling.

Magenta, on the other hand, simply sat on his bed with a sly, amused smile on her face. She sat with her legs folded to one side, propped up by a hand. Was it to her left or right? Time, he couldn't tell.

"Zhis vould be a good time to remember zhat you talked vitzh her about zhis. You have her permission. You know her answer, brotzher!"

"She could still change her mind!"

"She von't. She's been in an excited glow ever since." Magenta smiled. "You even got a ring size out of her! You know she knows vhat zhat means! She vants to marry you!"

"Still," Riff strained, internally begging his body to settle. "Oh, what if I fuck this all up? What if I accidentally make it about me? I could say all the wrong things!"

"Zhat's vhat I'm here for!" Magenta purred. "I von't let you do zhat. And even if you forget everytzhing and speak merely of zhe tax benefits and how much of a catch you are, she'll still say yes!"

"I hope so," Riff sighed and turned to look in the mirror. He'd been practicing in makeup and dressed in the clothes he planned to wear. The only things that would be different were the location and the ring. He wouldn't be proposing in his own timedamned bedroom and the ring was currently hiding in a little box that was in a little bag in the back of the storage room of the candy store that his government owned that was connected right to the castle. (He'd needed to show that he was kinder than the Furters and it turns out that the chefs had gotten bored with normal meals and could use a raise.) He'd asked her if she wanted to pick the ring herself, and she'd said that she wanted a surprise and that she trusted him. That was probably for the best, considering the fact that she was surprisingly difficult to shop for in that domain. With his schedule, it took him a whole month to track the right one down.

He had no idea where he'd propose. It had to be somewhere private, but home just was... not special enough.

He shook it all aside as he looked at his outfit in the mirror. A rich, shiny emerald green suit jacket and pants, with sage accenting the jacket. He had dark red lipstick with dusty purple earrings. His choker was a green so bright that it was almost yellow. His spike heels were a minty shade. Fuck, it really was his color, he thought as he checked on his dark green eyeshadow. His fingerless fishnet gloves brushed the hair out of his face, and in that moment he felt truly handsome.

"The night before, will you help me paint my nails this color?" He asked his sister. "I don't want to ruin one hand while working on the other."

"Of course I vill." She crawled forward on the bed, "But only if you get back to practicing!" She purred with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Alright," Riff Raff sighed, shaking the jitters out of his bones. He grabbed a ring pop and turned towards his sister. They'd decided that using them would help release the anxiety. They'd practice until Riff Raff knew what he was doing, and then they'd eat ring pops until the jitters wore off. It was a perfect solution.

"Cordelia!" Riff Raff sharply turned towards his sister. "When I was young... I... I always thought that I simply... that I'd never... that I could never find true joy... and... and I always thought that I'd be a freak who- AM I MAKING THIS ABOUT ME TOO MUCH??!" His voice all but vomited out.

"KEEP GOING!!" Magenta shouted back at him, "ZHAT VAS HEADED IN ZHE RIGHT DIRECTION!!"

"Right, right, sorry!" Riff breathed out as he straightened himself back up and exhaled. "I always thought that I'd be a freak who everyone backed away from, but then my life got flipped upside down and before I knew it I was king of the planet.... but a part of me still felt like a freak."

Magenta grinned. He could almost see her bouncing.

"But then you came along and I... I saw some kind of light. I wasn't sure how it could've happened! It couldn't have been possible but... somehow I'd fallen in love."

Magenta eagerly leaned forward. Good lord known as time he was getting this right.

"How could anyone not fall for you? You're creative, artistic, your mind! Time, it's like you see everything inside of anything! You're vibrant. You don't wait for other people to give you the go-ahead you just do. And... and you do it all with kindness and love, the best smile, the best eyes, the best beauty-" he felt himself begin to cry. "And you stayed. Never for a moment did you leave- you stayed. You held me through everything... and I want to stay, too. I want to hold you and keep you warm and never- never-... never let you go- DO I KNEEL ON THAT LINE I THINK THAT THAT LINE IS A GOOD SPOT THATS THE GETTING TO THE POINT LINE ISNT IT?" Riff said in one continuous flow.

"Yes, YES, brotzher!!!" Magenta cheered. "Go back and do it like zhat!!!"

"Right... right!" He exhaled and stood up straight.

His whole body was jittering. He shook it out. He could do this. He was practicing for the most wonderful thing- and he could do it. He knew he could. He just knew it.

"Cordelia," he started with a shaky breath. "I want to hold you and keep you warm- AAAAAA-" He was halfway down when he felt the heel twist under him. "BIG BANG'S ALL-CREATING ORGASM- WHAT THE FU-AAAACK?!-" He was toppling into a mess as the sour green apple ring pop went absolutely flying. It crashed straight into the wall, shattered, and one of the biggest pieces ricocheted straight into Magenta's mouth.

Riff Raff felt like he was going to vomit. The part of his body that had had the most critical impact was his stomach and he was heaving as he stiffly looked up at his sister who was happily sucking on a fragment of a ring pop and laughing so hard that she was crying. How she managed to keep it in her mouth and not choke given the circumstances, he had absolutely no idea. He was grateful, though. At least there was that.

He straighted up and looked at his feet. His heels were thankfully undamaged. He kicked them off and felt the greatest relief in the world as his feet felt the release. "Passage of time," he cursed as he threw them straight into his closet.

He turned his gaze back up to Magenta as she finished her fragment. She swallowed it with a pop and simply said,

"I do."

That had him laughing. He was already on the ground but that just solidified it. His stomach still cramped a bit when he laughed, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

"You vanna try zhe rest on zhe ground? Knowing you, you have a full tzhird left in zhere."

"No I-" he wheezed- "I think I'm good. I think I'm happy to wing it from that part on. More than, even."

His feet really did hurt, but now he just felt the release of the heel being off. He loved wearing them, but the release always felt good. Similarly, he just felt.... content. It was like the fall had snapped a sense of comfort into him. A sense of assurance- just a sense that it was all going to be alright.

"Did you break anytzhing?" Magenta asked, still smiling.

"No, I... I don't think so at least," he said, with an ounce of tiredness and exhaustion in his voice.

"Here brotzher, let me check." She got up and kicked him in the ankle.

"OW!" he wheezed. "What the fuck was that?"

"It isn't broken!" She affirmed. "You vouldn't feel it if it vas!"

"That's not how that works! That's not how any of that works!" He couldn't help it and started laughing again. She helped him to his feet and let him lean on her as he kept laughing.

"Hello! I'm home!" A voice called from across their part of the house as he heard a door close.

FUCK. They'd lost track of time. Magenta all but ripped his coat off his shoulders as he started unfastening all of his jewelry. Choker and earrings- off. Magenta helped to all but throw him into his pajamas without getting makeup stains on them and then he bolted his way to the sink in the built-in bathroom and started washing off his makeup. He was drying his face by the time Cordelia walked into the room.

Holy fuck, she was everything that the world had to offer. In that moment he suddenly felt so much love for everyone in his life. How perfect his life was because of them! Cordelia and her creativity, Magenta and her sass, mama and her wit, Grandpa Scotty and his kindness. The way that Auncle Perci just couldn't go five seconds without making a move towards everyone that they met. The adorable, charming awkwardness of Brad and Janet and the never-ending rock and roll that was Columbia. He'd never thought this could happen to him, but it did. It so did. He was swelling and he thought he might be about to burst.

Cordelia noticed that something was up, her raven hair was shining as she took the half of it that was up down.

"Vhat is it, starlight?" She asked, puzzled.

"Zhis dumbass tripped, fell, saw his life flash before his eyes, and is suddenly feeling incredibly grateful."

Time, she'd saved it. That was fucking brilliant.

Cordelia smiled the sweetest smile at him. Came close, and gave him a little pet kiss and held him for a second before saying,

"I'm gonna go see if zhere are any cinnamon rolls left in zhe kitchen. Do eitzher of you vant vone if zhere are?"

They both immediately accepted and she walked off. The cinnamon rolls made him think of the candy store which made him think of the engagement ring in the back of its shelves. He flopped back onto his bed and sighed. He rolled over to look at his sister. The way he was looking at her, she almost seemed upside down. He smiled at that, a little playful smile that just felt right. He waited until he was certain that Cordelia was out of earshot before saying, with a playful smile,

"Magenta?"

"Yes?"

"I'm getting married."

[viiisenyas]

I really liked your analysis on Rhaenyra and Laenor's dynamic for ep 6. Do you think that you could do one for ep 7? c:

Oh boy, you are trying to give me an aneurysm lol. Listen, I have a lot to say about this. So get some tea and have a seat, anon.

Let's start with the funeral.

Rhaenyra was looking for Laenor when she pulled Jacaerys aside, that much is certain, and I am painfully aware that they were both mourning their losses, as Jacaerys so tactfully put it /s

In response to Baela and Rhaena losing their mother:

[Jacaerys:] I have an equal claim to sympathy. We should be at Harrenhal, mourning Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin.

Little fucking bastard.

If Rhaenyra and Laena were truly as close as some show watchers believe, do we truly think that Jacaerys would be so comfortable saying that openly? I think not.

Not to mention, that whole conversation between Rhaenyra and Jacaerys earns some iconic questionable looks from Alicent and Criston.

Moving on before I get off topic.

A few minutes later in the episode, you can actually hear Seasmoke crying out, which kind of alerts Daemon and Aemond that something is amiss, then the camera cuts to this.

A very distraught Laenor standing in the water (likely where his sister was buried) which brings up the question: If Rhaenyra was intent on keeping up appearances, why did she spend the last few minutes openly eye-fucking Daemon? Why didn't she continue her search for her husband who was prone to drinking? If they had such a close friendship as some of the fandom believes, her first thought would have been to ensure that he was all right. But... she didn't.

And it doesn't help the situation that Corlys has an outburst towards Ser Qarl to retrieve Laenor, but even when that does draw in attention, Rhaenyra doesn't even bother asking what happened. Instead, she continues eye-fucking Daemon while he's talking to Viserys.

And after Daemon leaves the balcony, she walks straight towards her children to send them to bed, and proceeds to follow Daemon. She didn't even bother waiting for Laenor to come back up and ask if he was okay or even offer him an ounce of comfort, which earns this look from Otto.

She... is a horrible and selfish friend.

Moving on, let's break down the conversation she had with Daemon about Laenor.

It begins with this:

[Rhaenyra]: Laenor has been restless for years, but now, he will be useless. Or worse. I know better than anyone that our marriage is a farce. But I at least make the effort to maintain appearances.

Did she? Clearly not, if Otto, Criston, and Alicent were all giving her the bombastic side eye. And that's not even mentioning the visible bastards she brought to Laena's funeral. Her lack of empathy towards Laenor was blatant during that entire funeral, and believe me, everyone fucking noticed.

[Rhaenyra:] We did try to conceive a child. We performed our duty as best we could. But to no avail.

Again, clearly not. Especially if we take into account the canonical age of Jacaerys and compare it to the date they wed. (Yes I am referencing book canon, but it still drives my point)

Rhaenyra and Laenor wed in 114 AC, and Jacaerys was born the same year.

I could understand if the boy was born like two, maybe three years after the wedding, but nope. In my opinion, I would have assumed that "performing your duty" would have meant being monogamous for at least a year to get it over with, but I digress. What's done is done.

And here is where we get to the root of the issue, and where she tells on herself a little bit.

[Rhaenyra:] There was no joy in it. I found that elsewhere. It felt good to be desired.

Well of course there wouldn't be any joy in it, he's a gay man, and you knew this when you agreed to marry him (mind you, when she had the full pick of the litter - a privilege that nobody else was granted.) However, there were several fucking ways that they could have attempted to conceive a child - hell, even Margaery had solutions to the situation with Renly. But clearly Rhaenyra wasn't as intelligent as she thought she was.

Now, glossing over the blatant disrespect towards her grieving husband and his dead sister by sleeping with Laena's widower, let's get to the aftermath of the shitshow between her and Alicent.

After she sends the children out to have a private word with Laenor the conversation goes like this:

[Laenor:] I should have been there. [Rhaenyra, begrudgingly:] Those should be our house words.

If you pay attention to Laenor's face after she says that, he looks like he doesn't want to deal with this, yet he stays, and proceeds to provide an explanation.

[Laenor:] I have fought dreadful enemies, but I could not defend my dear sister, far from home and in agony. I could not defend you... [Rhaenyra:] Sit down.

To me, this feels like he's attempting to gauge a semblance of understanding from Rhaenyra as to why he wasn't present during the climax of this episode. And believe it or not, it is VALID. As I have said in the previous analysis of episode 6, those children were NOT his obligation, and he was grieving his own flesh and blood.

However, Rhaenyra continued to act indifferent and dismissive to his loss, and proceeded to bring up her bastards as if that was the bigger problem. Not once did she ask how he was feeling this entire episode, which again, made me believe that they were never truly friends. (I'd wager IF they were, that friendship quickly crumbled after Joffrey Lonmouth was murdered, and I think it's safe to assume that Rhaenyra has behaved similarly to how she is behaving now.)

[Laenor:] I have failed you, Rhaenyra. Our marriage... I tried. Our boys... I do love them. Deeply. But I have not, mayhaps... loved them enough.

Now as Laenor is speaking, you can see the apathy she has so plainly displayed on her face while he is quite literally pleading with her yet again, so much that he has resorted to self-deprecating language in spite of the fact that he stayed by her side for ten straight years, playing his part as a loving husband and father, possibly being berated by other lords and ladies at court. He is not afforded the same protections that Rhaenyra has, and mind you, he was alone.

Laenor's entire family had been away from King's Landing, so he had to navigate this by himself, all while getting comments against his ability to sire children, and against his sexuality as so wonderfully displayed by Alicent. /s

[Alicent, Episode 6:] Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Soon or late you'll have one that looks like you. [Alicent, Episode 7:] Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he will have something to say in the matter... Entertaining his squires, I'll wager.

I fully believe if the Queen was comfortable saying this so openly, everyone else was more than comfortable with saying things like this to his face, too.

Now, back to the point, Rhaenyra continues the conversation with this:

[Rhaenyra:] I had hoped to bear your children. The few times we lay together. Things might've been different. [Laenor:] I hate the gods for making me as they did. [Rhaenyra:] I do not.

Hm. Are you sure about that, Rhaenyra? Because your dialogue with him in the previous episode had quite a few microaggressions against his homosexuality. But I digress.

[Rhaenyra:] You are an honourable man with a good heart. It's a rare thing.

Yet, she called him useless behind his back about twenty minutes ago, which tells me that she's being disingenuous, and Laenor seemed to catch it, too because he makes this face right after she says it.

[Laenor:] We made an arrangement all those years ago to do our duty, and yet explore happiness. [Rhaenyra:] *chuckles* [Laenor:] But there are times I think when these things cannot mutually exist.

Now I found that a bit interesting. She starts laughing at the little contract they drew up ten years ago. Now sure, this can be taken as a bit of levity, or it can be taken as her actually laughing at him in a condescending way. Pick your poison. However, given everything I've presented above, my opinion leans towards the latter.

Sure we can argue that he did smile with her, but is that a genuine smile, or is that a "I hope she's taking me seriously," smile? I'll let you decide.

Now to address his next statement, he was absolutely correct, and I'll wager that he probably had been thinking about this for a very long time. Maybe I'm reading into it, but his expression grows serious after he says it.

[Laenor:] Ser Qarl will return soon to the fighting in the Stepstones. But I recommit myself to you. And to strengthening our house as we prepare you for your ascension. I will raise our sons to be princes of the realm. You deserve better than what I have been. You deserve a husband. (emphasis mine)

And this is the final frame we have of Laenor before his death is staged. His entire expression is pleading.

This right here was a final cry for recognition in his longstanding efforts. His last words to her really drove the point home that he does want to try, despite the fact that he has been all along. Perhaps it's just me, but Laenor seems like he is actually on his last leg if he is going so far as to put himself down in an attempt to receive some semblance of acknowledgement from Rhaenyra in hopes that she wouldn't cast him aside like she has done these last few years.

[mamadarama]

spoilers for the matrix event kind of ?

so i read the translation today of the whole event and it's just unbelievably bad , I'm not sure if you had a chance to look through . and takashi who's basically a little hiiro but actually he's a child of producer rinne once had with god knows if their father or just someone from amagi family ? it feels like a really bad fanservice and I'd like to hear you thoughts if you read this . it's okay if no and you can't really comment on that but i couldn't keep silent so forgive my off topic ramble .

i hope you will have a good day or night

{major matrix spoilers}

i just read the story myself. its alright, not much worse than any of the others, just hard to follow because its all rinne being rinne. its not really that fanservicy imo, i thought id hate it more than i do . my biggest gripe is akiras choice of dialogue for aira . again. i really wish he would stop doing that but thats besides the point.

edit: i also wanted to add that the part where tatsumi and mayoi are worried about hiiro and aira and theyre like "theyll be fine theyre strong capable people" and it immediately cuts to aira screaming bloody murder absolutely sent me

heres a summary of the story from what ive gathered . this is a long one so ill put it under a read more

rinne set up an elaborate scheme to protect the privacy of his hometown. when rinne first went to the city he saw an unnamed idol that inspired him to become one himself. that idol retired and became a teacher at an all girls school (i wanna bet its kimisaki academy. thats unimportant to the story tho.), and his producer , akan, was left struggling until she met rinne and began producing him. unfortunately the job became too much for her and she began to crack under the pressure, and had to retire for her own health. rinne told her about his hometown, where she would be able to live out the rest of her life in peace. to ensure no one would go looking for her , they set up a plan— they pitched a fake mystery program where she would go investigate a phenomenon in the area of the village, and "disappear mysteriously". the footage would never be released because of the "incident", and as long as they didnt find her she would be declared dead after being missing for long enough, therefore closing the resulting missing person case and leaving her to be unbothered and truly leave her past behind and start over. while she was living in the village she met rinnes father, and they eventually got married and had a kid, takashi (its never mentioned that hes their kid, but rinne says his father wishes he could make takashi his heir instead of rinne, implying hes his son) . he looks like hiiro because the amagi family has strong genes (and also likely because the devs could repurpose kid hiiros live2d model). rinne noticed his fans were getting increasingly curious about his hometown and worried that the extra attention would eventually cause trouble for the people in his village, and by extension disrupt the peaceful life akan had built there. his solution was to "reveal" his hometown in a tv program and satisfy his fans curiosity so theyd drop the subject. but he couldnt just make a program for no reason, so he pitched the matrix event , part of which would be hosted at the "amagis village". he didnt want it to be a large scale event, so he contacted the retired idol akan used to produce and asked him to pose as akan to produce the event since he was the only other person to have known her well enough to impersonate her and capitalizing on the fact that no one remembered who akan is or what she looked like. anzu ended up getting involved and as a result it turned into a much bigger event than rinne intended for it to be . the "village" that the event was hosted in was actually the contact point for the actual village, a place that looked convincing enough but was really just used as a meeting point for the village to import resources from the city without exposing their real location. but of course in typical rinne fashion, he only reveals this to the rest of alkakurei at the very end, so everyone was just very confused the whole time. rinne also claims takashi is his and anzus kid at first, but no one believes him of course because that makes no sense.

tldr; rinne is worried that his fans are getting too curious about his hometown and might eventually lead to it being exposed, so he stages a fake reveal to satisfy his fans curiosity.

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i sorta like it. its not completely outlandish by enstars standards and it ties up a few loose ends about rinnes backstory (like what happened to his career as a solo idol before his duo unit with niki, why he became an idol, and who produced him before he met anzu) as well as further solidifying his character as someone who genuinely cares about the well being of others and will fight to protect them by any means necessary even if theyre not part of his life anymore .