#magic strawberry sound

[desire-mona]

MS MAGIC RADIOOOOOOOO

GIVE ME ONE LAST CHANCE TO SHOW

TELL U WHAT LURKS DEEP INSIIIDE

DEEP INSIDE MY BATTERED MIND!!!!

[lilidawnonthemoon]

💯🪐✨

[freyito]

ʙᴀʟᴅᴇʀꜝ ⨟ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti, mr. reca, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you notice the little things they do for you/around you.

✧ a/n: a little something ive been thinkin about U_U and something to tide my followers over while i work on strawberry season! (and unfortunately fall victim to The Inspiration and The Motivation.)

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, short n sweet, old man welt. actual old man welt, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.4k

⎯ Aventurine

One of AVENTURINE’s habits at the table is holding onto your hand, or even just linking your pinkies. It’s his way of waning himself off of clutching his chips behind his back. You’re his good luck charm, of course. It’s not just at the table or machines, though. He does this at the arcade, as well. He’ll make you stand close by, even wrap your arms around his arm as he messes with the claw machine. He swears up and down that you really are his lucky charm. If you step away, he does his very best to fail miserably. Unfortunately, he’s still somehow able to get some plushies. But he won’t let that ruin the magic.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

RATIO, while he doesn’t seem the sentimental type, really likes to take some of your jewelry with him to work. He prefers necklaces most of all, something easy to tuck in if students dare to ask about it. He loves to keep some part of you close, especially when he’s away. He won’t outright say why he likes it, but it’s something along the lines of keeping you very close to his heart. He asks politely, although a little sheepishly. He’ll lie for his pride, saying it’s simply something nice to hold on to. It’s odd, really, he’s not so shy with his declarations of love, but something so little has him pretending that he’s too shy to say it.

⎯ Boothill

There’s a lot BOOTHILL does. Too many to count. One thing he really seems to enjoy is triggering his censor on purpose. Before he had gotten serious about making you his partner, he’d get annoyed when you’d snicker and chuckle at his censor. He’d pitch a fit, huff and puff and curse you out even more. But it’s that same snicker that made him fall in love; at least, that’s what he believes. He was head over heels the minute he met you. But that's besides the point. After all he’s seen, the blood on his hands, and much more, he’s realized he’d do anything for that laugh. So he “swears” as much as he can around you, his Synthesia Beacon somehow slipping in new words. Where the hell did ‘banana’ come from…?

⎯ Gallagher

One of GALLAGHER’s favorite things to do when he gets home is cuddle. He’s busy as is, and some time to decompress with his lover always sounds like heaven. Oftentimes, he’ll drag you to the bed or the couch, even when you’re in the middle of something. He loves to bury his face into your shoulder. And moreso, he loves the way you giggle when his stubble tickles your neck. When you squirm and try to break free, he only tightens his hold, pulling you up against his chest as you laugh and swat at him, telling him to stop. He doesn’t. He’ll poke at your sides and squeeze at your hips as well, anything to keep you laughing.

⎯ Sunday

SUNDAY is so sickeningly sweet when it comes to you. His affections aren’t subtle, bringing you a bouquet of flowers when you’re at work, taking you out on fancy dates, and so much more. He is a textbook romantic. No act of love is little from him, he makes sure not to skip out. He wants you to know just how much he loves you, grand gesture or not. However, one thing you have noticed is the way his wings flutter just a little when he sees you, or hears you. A light blush always dusts his cheeks, followed by a smile and a tilt of his head. When you visit him while he’s working, his wings flutter just a little bit longer. You aren’t sure if he is aware of this, but you don’t want him to stop, so you decide to keep it a secret.

⎯ Argenti

Oh, ARGENTI, sweet Argenti. He’s so… princely, when it comes to you. Such a gentleman, really. He follows the sidewalk rule almost religiously, places his hand on the small of your back when the two of you are walking, grabs your hand so tenderly and kneels in front of you to kiss it, everything and anything that can come out of a fairy tale. One of his favorite things to do, however, is letting you do his hair. While he quite likes letting his long hair down, he loves nothing more than your hands running through it. He allows everything short of cutting it. In fact, he loves it so much, he practically runs to you before he trains, so you can put his hair up in a ponytail. If you want to braid it, however, he won’t mind. As long as you don’t yank his hair.

⎯ Mr. Reca

MR. RECA is all for the theatrics, on and off the set. Sometimes, it feels like he can’t turn off his whole director persona, even with you. Not that you mind. While he’s packed full of movie and media references, some that barely make him sound coherent, there are moments where he’s a completely Normal Guy with you. Sometimes it makes you think he’s lost his mind. However, one of your favorite things that prove he wasn’t abducted is when he acts like your life is a movie. He’ll bring his hands up and frame your face with his fingers, ramble on about how the main actor is just ‘too perfect for this role’, and how you're ‘born for the screen, born for my heart!’. He’ll add some sort of dramatic flare, clutching his chest or pretending he’ll pass out. While Memokeeper’s are quite odd, you don’t think you’d give up this one for the world.

⎯Sampo Koski

Whatever you need, SAMPO has. He even established this before the start of the relationship. He’s like… a penguin. While him showering you in luxurious gifts is not uncommon, it’s truly the smaller ones that count. Random trinkets he found somewhere, most were a little dusty and dirty, but ones that had provoked the thought of you, making them so meaningful. He presents all sorts of things to you, really. Rings he just ‘happened’ to find, necklaces and bracelets too, gears that were in such very oddly pristine condition, and his favorite: shells and rocks. He really does live up to the actions of a penguin, finding the prettiest rocks he can to give to his lover. Perhaps he is proposing…? It’s hard to say.

⎯ Jing Yuan

As the Divine Foresight, JING YUAN doesn’t get as much time as he’d like to enjoy the little things with you. A stroll once in a while is nice, or perhaps sitting down for at least ten minutes and chatting will do. He’s a simple man, and seeing your face for a fraction of a second is enough to tide him over for the next month. At least, that’s what he says. When he does get to spend time with you, he has a habit of bumping into you ‘accidentally’. He leans in close whenever you’re inspecting the fruit at the market, tends to bump into the two of you when you’re just walking, and actually prefers sitting on the same side of the table most of the time. All to enjoy those brief moments of contact. You’ve told him countless times that he could just ask to hold your hand, and he does, but somehow he always finds a way to come impossibly closer…

⎯ Blade

There’s not much BLADE does that isn’t small. He’s not necessarily vocal about his love for you (however he does love you, very much), nor is he good at expressing it. You’ve learned to translate the little things into big things, even something as simple as an ‘i thought of you’ when he comes back from a mission is a big deal. There’s one thing you’ve noticed that you’ve gotten to hold over the other Stellaron Hunters, though. He hates shopping, unless it’s with you. With Kafka and Firefly, he groans and acts uninterested most of the time, but with you, he’s quiet. Perfectly content to hold your bags, no matter how much things you have bought. No complaining, not even a grimace. Don’t point it out though. He’ll start pitching a fit if you so much as suggest that he loves you. (He does. But it’s hard to say or express for a man like him.)

⎯ Luocha

LUOCHA’s good with physical contact. With his profession and secrecy, sometimes it’s hard for you to remember that. He’s often gone for so long, doing Aeons knows what, that you tend to miss him, and especially his physical affections. Somehow, he’s also terrifyingly good at coming back just when you start to miss him too much. By then, you are craving a warm hug from him by the very least. But he always does more. He treats you, a nice date, either a day out or a day inside, before he’s off again. Somehow, his hands always find your hair, playing with it absentmindedly. You could be on the verge of sleep, and here he is, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers idly. Running his fingers through it, scratching your scalp, the list goes on. You start to wonder if it’s you he missed, or your hair.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

Now, JIAOQIU doesn’t like feeling helpless. Just because he’s blind doesn’t mean anything, he’s still a great healer, and an even better cook. Before he lost his sight, he’d cook terrifyingly grand meals for you, practically a whole feast for twelve. And if you can’t handle spice? You’re the only one he would turn down the heat for. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t let you off the hook. No, he chose to build your spice tolerance, instead. Adding more and more to each meal, even if you struggled with it. Now, without his sight, he’s only a little more hesitant to cook. He’s gotten all sorts of aids that help, of course. But knives are still knives, and he can be as careful as he wants, but they’ve somehow made him just a little antsy. So, he likes to guide you through chopping vegetables and the like. It doesn’t matter if you can do it by yourself, he likes to stand behind you as he ‘guides’ your wrists, smiling and snickering all the while.

⎯ Moze

It comes to no surprise that what MOZE enjoys best is cleaning. With you, he’s amped it up a little. When he can, he likes to do all the chores he possibly can before you get home. It’s something you’re used to, but even if you tell him you’d like to have a few to do, he acts like he takes it to mind. Really, he’s just telling himself he’ll have to do more. Days off aren’t exactly existent for him, but if he’s not keeping his hands busy, he gets anxious. So he’s resorted to making your life easier, sweeping the house, cleaning the dishes, doing laundry, and much more. You can’t argue, because who wants to do chores, anyways?

⎯ Dan Heng

While DAN HENG can be quite romantic, that doesn’t stop him from being what he is, an introvert. Some of his best days are spent holed up in his room on the Express, kicking back and ignoring what he can, unless it’s urgent. A nice quiet day and some tea are his true peace. And you, of course. He likes spending those quiet moments with you, especially when the two of you are just… doing your own thing. He could be reading, and you could be playing a game on your phone or watching something right next to him. He has no qualms if you aren’t doing something together, as long as you’re right next to him. ‘Parallel play’, he’s heard March call it. It fits, truly.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD is truly a gentleman. He almost fits the Golden Retriever standard to a T. Kind and gentle, protective yet oh so sweet, almost knightly. While his work hours hold him hostage most of the time, he cherishes the time he gets to spend with you. Even when he’s tired and worn out, he simply can’t say no to a date. He’s the definition of royalty treatment. Holding your jacket, helping you zip up your clothes when need be, following the sidewalk rule, switching out your shoes if they’re uncomfortable, opening doors, and making sure your chair is pulled out before he sits down. No gesture of love is too small for him, or at least, he makes sure the small ones culminate into something bigger.

⎯ Caelus

To be honest, you still really can’t get CAELUS, even as his partner. He’s a bit quirky, maybe a tad too adventurous (stay out of those trash cans, you beg of him. But he does not listen), and perhaps way too into it for the bit. But that doesn’t mean you don’t love him. He’s silly and goofy and quite profound when he’s in the mood, although with his own sort of charm. Massive bouquets, massive credit bouquets, oddly cliche dates, and the like. But his most defining moments are the smaller, almost mundane ones. Sitting in the parlor car, laying on his belly and kicking his feet while you go through his nail polish collection, picking out what colors you want him to wear. He’s oddly… sparkly, grinning ear to ear as he holds his fingers out, waiting oh so patiently for you to color them. Paint his nails like one of your french girls… or something.

⎯ Welt

Unfortunately, while WELT is sweet, his habits can be a little bit annoying. For the first month or so when you started sleeping in his bed, his snoring almost drove you crazy. Perhaps you should’ve expected this for a man his age, but at the same time you can’t help but scold him in your mind. Fortunately, it is something that you get used to, and even see as white noise. You could complain all you want, and he’d apologize profusely, figure out any sort of way to at the very least quiet himself during the night, and then apologize some more. Not only does he snore, but he moves a lot in his sleep. He likes to fall asleep holding you… however throughout the night, he gets too hot, which means he pulls away, then it’s too cold, so he’s rolling back over to you, then he can’t quite find a comfortable way to sleep… it’s never ending. And charming, kind of.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server (16+) | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[starsyaa]

Bts ot7 x reader (i)

CEO

Series

The butterseries COMPLETE

Combined beings COMPLETE

Choco bun COMPLETE

Chantaje COMPLETE

Office CEO Au ONGOING

Petrichor ONGOING

MAFIA

Series

Combined beings COMPLETE

Between the bloodshed COMPLETE

Everything between us COMPLETE

Ethereal COMPLETE

Choco bun COMPLETE

War of the hearts ONGOING

Be my light ONGOING

Cry me a river ONGOING

Oneshot

Mafia Au

Your protectors

Secret story of the swan

Eye of the beholder

Their innocent girl

Crumble

IDOL

Series

Quarantine COMPLETE

Beautiful confusion COMPLETE

8th member imagines!

Life with bangtan

Little do you know

The plot twist (soulmate) ONGOING

Change my mind ONGOING

The line between love and war (soulmate) ONGOING

Oneshot

The little things

Hold your promise

Being BTS's baby

Eighth member of BTS

Nothing new

Hurt/Sick

Clumsy/We need bubblewrap

What words can't say

Birthdays & Boyfriends

Shell

Kitchen fairies

00:00

HYBRID

Series

Hybrid house COMPLETE

To build a home COMPLETE

Escape COMPLETE

The little fox COMPLETE

Whirlwind COMPLETE

A place called home COMPLETE

Roses and thorns COMPLETE

Shelter of hope COMPLETE

Hybrid heart attack COMPLETE

Shadows and wolfbane COMPLETE

Oasis COMPLETE

Something thicker than blood COMPLETE

Outside of the fox ONGOING

Loved by seven ONGOING

Strawberry princess ONGOING

Masked miracles ONGOING

Trouvaille ONGOING

Safe and sound ONGOING

7 hybrids move in with me ONGOING

Oneshot

Tangled hearts

Mean kitty, soft kitty

Core pride

Secret story of the swan

COLLEGE

Series

Everything falls into place COMPLETE

Thesis IT COMPLETE

Prove IT COMPLETE

OMEGAVERSE

Series

House of the omegaverse COMPLETE

Belong ONGOING

Find rest for your soul ONGOING

Petrichor ONGOING

Iridescent love ONGOING

You belong ONGOING

Feels like home ONGOING

Moonchild ONGOING

Snow angel ONGOING

Dragon

Series

Ethereal COMPLETE

Choco bun COMPLETE

Dragonheart ONGOING

Fantasy

Series

The galaxy above us COMPLETE

A thousand spring (soulmate) COMPLETE

Tell me your lies COMPLETE

Stay alive ONGOING

Euphoric endeavors ONGOING

Magic shop ONGOING

Ongoing

The eve

Royal

Series

The return of an empress COMPLETE

Royal/Bodyguard COMPLETE

Fall of empire ONGOING

Oneshot

Soulmate/royalty

Others

Series

Boyfriend for hire COMPLETE

Getting back into the swing of things COMPLETE

Enjoy your stay COMPLETE

Death valley COMPLETE

Strangers COMPLETE

Out of love ONGOING

Shadows we trust ONGOING

Oneshot

Pastel snowflake kisses

Thank my lucky stars

Jingle all the way

PART 2

[orphicsun]

warnings: oral sex (e! receiving), masturbation, service top (fem) reader, possessive sex. mdni please.

"Can I touch myself?"

Ellie's thighs are warm are covered in freckles, the softest earmuffs known to womankind. Comfort is the last thing on your mind when you're tongue deep in her pussy, though.

You pull your mouth away from her needy hole and give her an incredulous look. "I'm eating you out already, aren't I?"

"I mean.." Ellie gnaws on her chapped bottom lip nearly hard enough to leave a wet, dark red streak. Then, you see it from below. You see her one hand squeeze her own perky tit, thumbing over her nipple. If her cheeks weren't already flushed, she is now a strawberry as her other hand reaches between her own legs to massage circles into her clit.

Her face is something you'd see on the cover of a dirty magazine. That look of frustrating embarrassment, and her actions that deceive her. The ways her nipples harden at her own touch should be printed out in color and pinned to your wall. You take pride in these moments when she finally unwinds like a spool of thread. You take pride in the little scoffs of denial she throws your way, even as she lowers herself further for your tongue to explore all of her.

"'m needing your tongue while I do it, though." She whines, losing the solidity in her voice as her own fingers work magic on her clit.

You won't say no to a request like that, as much as you love to tease. Your tongue belongs in her pussy, it belongs to her whenever she needs it.

"You feel so fucking good inside me, o-oh my god.." She whorishly moans. You already know it, though. You feel her clenching around your tongue, trying to feel you even deeper. The only noise you can hear is her pleasured moans and the lewd sound of your tongue fucking her hole. If you could speak, you'd tease her.

You need your girl's tongue in you to get off? Can't take care of yourself?

In a desperate motion, Ellie's hand leaves her tits to find semblance of support in front of her. It's like she's treating your face as her own masturbation pillow, humping your mouth and rubbing her clit raw.

It's your purposeful, vibrating moans that have her mewling, pace picking up. You just embrace her movements. You drive your tongue as deeply as it can reach into her and taste each sensitive spot nobody else can experience but you. I hope you know you're mine, Ellie Williams. I'll spell my own name inside this pretty fuckin' cunt of yours.

You feel her orgasm before it occurs in the way she twitches and squeezes your muscle. Then, the release coats your tastebuds and drips down your chin like a mushy strawberry in June. You keep going, though. You don't stop until she cries in protest and stops her ministrations, and then you give one final kiss to her ruined cunt and clean her up.

taglist: @abbysmeatrider, @aviixol, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @meow4510, @eriiwaii, @g4ys0n, @mitskimisfit, @ruelezz, @witzs, @bewareofmyglock want to be on my taglist? click here

[sourco0kie]

Self Awareness AU - Prologue

You huffed as you placed your controller, playing this game each day has gotten boring, Especially when there’s no to little update to the game. When it does updates it’s only bugs fixes or some features getting removed.

With a disappointed sigh, you closed steam and opened google to watch youtube. You searched the general if there’s any interesting video that would catch your attention. One for your favorite youtuber catches your interest and instantly you click on it.

You groan in displeasure as an ad starts playing, with no other choice you decide to wait for the five seconds for the skip ad button. The ad starts playing and.. It instantly catches your attention. The quality of the game and the voice acting intrigued you. Especially this one character with an ice cream cone for a hat having that magical girl transformation.

You went on deep research about the game, seeing what it will bring to the table. You watch a few videos about the story and it’s interesting enough and well written. You were so hyped when you found out the game is available on PC you went and download it, so you won’t force your phone to die more for the game.

You instantly download it, and once installed you open the app for another download. Typical. You happily waited for it and were super hyped about the intro animation. You played on, already loving the characters, oh how you favor Gingerbrave!

You played everyday, not missing a single day! Heck you even began trying to draw in the unique artstyle, even as you never draw in your entire life. Each time you gacha, you prayed on getting either an ancient or a beast. And either would be good for your team. As of current you favor Strawberry Crepe Cookie for their amazing defense and skill.

On a particular day as you log in, everything feels.. Different. The front loading screen felt odd. You brush it off and log in the game, doing your missions and creating stuff you need for the laboratory research. One of the cookies, Affogato Cookie, has a speech bubble. You clicked on it expecting the usual repeating dialogue but this time it’s different. “My, My you look quite lovely.”

Ok. A bit creepy but okay.. Maybe that’s just a new dialogue the game added? But there’s no small update requirement from the game, odd. You paid no mind to it as it’s a regular occurrence. Sometimes the cookies would have a self awareness dialogue.

You continued on playing the game with no more weird occurrences, just the normal game. You speed run through the cryspia story already passing the hollyberry kingdom. You kept on losing in the dark choco chapter so you decide to just gather up your power first before continuing.

The sound of your alarm snapped you out of your game run. Glancing at the time you realized it’s already time for one of your online classes. You closed the game, going to your kingdom one last time just to be met by Gingerbrave saying; “Pure Vanilla Cookie would love to know how radiant you are!”

You paused, staring at the screen with a shiver under your skin. You brush it off and log out the game to open your class in session group. For 30 minutes you listen to the professor explain about today’s lesson. Suddenly the sound of your phone notification caught your attention, you were about to pick up before it started to shake.

You gasped, watching as a blue hand reached out from your phone. “What-”

“TA-DA! The star of the show has arrived!~”

The hand clenched the edge of the table, using it to leverage the infamous of a Diva jester pulled himself out. “Wooow.. quite a lovely place of living you got here, need a little more blue for color though. But you won't be needing to change things since you're coming with me.”

You stare with your mouth gape open. Meeting with a powerful jester was NOT on your list today.

“What? Cat got your tongue? Ooh don’t be afraid dear, I don’t bite, unless..”

“NOPE-” You grabbed the nearest item which was your notebook and threw it at him, he barely dodged it. He frowned before smirking again as he tilted his head with his hands clasped together, placing his cheek against the back of his hand.

“Adorable attempt, dear. But you gotta do more than tha-”

A pen smacked square on his face, He stares at you, unphased “That..” he continued. “Your humble knight has arrived to bring you home!~”

“Home!?” The jester laughed, “don't fret, I don't bite.. too hard!” He grabbed your shirt and yanked you towards your phone.

Everything was.. black, no light as you stared at the abyss before a sudden flash of colors blinded you. The birds chirp to one another as they fly above you. The light from the sun blinded your vision a bit before you adjusted. You glance around, noticing your surroundings.. are odd.

Everything smells so sweet. Too sweet for your liking.

The sounds of leaves rustling snapped you out of your daze, your attention instantly went towards the bushes. Looking around, spotting one that's moving.

Stepping a bit back away from the bushes you stayed quite, not daring to make noise and startled the.. whatever it was in the bush and attacked you. Carefully you picked up a nearby stick as a weapon, if it would do anything.

Something pounces out the bushes scaring you as you leap back and fall on your back. It barks as it approaches you and sniffs the air. You opened your eyes seeing it was just a cake hound.

Wait.. Cake hound!?

[purinbunnii]

“Good morning, Mrs. Gojo.”

⸻

The first morning as husband and wife began with a thud.

“Who the hell puts a laundry basket there?” Gojo’s groggy voice echoed through the hallway.

You groaned, not bothering to open your eyes. “You did, yesterday, when you said—and I quote—‘this is strategic placement, babe, trust me.’”

There was a pause. Then: ��Okay, but past-me was clearly a moron. Newlywed immunity?”

You chuckled into your pillow, finally rolling onto your back to squint at the sunlight bleeding through the blinds. The bed still smelled like your body lotion and a faint whiff of Gojo’s cologne—woodsy and fresh, clinging to the sheets and your skin. You were already too soft for him.

He padded in barefoot, hair sticking out in five directions, one sock on. He looked like a sleep-deprived anime character—ironic, given the sheer perfection he usually walked around with.

Gojo squinted at you, then dramatically flopped onto the bed, burying his face in your stomach. “You smell too good. It’s offensive.”

You carded your fingers through his snow-white hair. “I showered last night. You should try it.”

“I was going to, but then someone seduced me with marriage vows and fuzzy pajamas.”

“Those pajamas have cats on them.”

“Exactly. Irresistible.” He lifted his head to grin at you. “Morning, Mrs. Gojo.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that—Mrs. Gojo. It sounded ridiculous. It sounded like magic.

You grinned back. “Morning, Mr. Gojo. What’s for breakfast?”

He gasped. “What, I have to cook? Isn’t there a honeymoon clause where you feed me grapes in bed for the first month?”

You sat up, poking his cheek. “If you want grapes, go to the store. Also, there’s no clause. I read the fine print.”

“Ugh. The betrayal. The treachery. The hunger!” He rolled over and reached blindly for his phone. “Fine. Pancakes it is. But only because I love you.”

“You can’t cook pancakes.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.”

“You almost set the toaster on fire last week.”

He stood dramatically, shirtless and undeterred. “That was a toaster’s fault. Today, we fight fate.”

You watched his retreating back, all lean muscle and chaos, and called after him, “Please don’t fight fate with the stove!”

He waved you off and yelled from the kitchen, “This is the sound of a domestic king rising!”

And twenty minutes later, there were slightly-burned pancakes on a plate, topped with strawberries he cut himself and arranged like a smiley face.

You sat cross-legged on the kitchen stool while he stood behind you, chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist.

“They’re ugly, but they taste okay,” he mumbled.

You giggled, mouth full of sweet syrup and warm batter. “Just like you.”

He groaned. “Ouch. I let you take my last name for this?”

“I earned it. I endured your wedding vows. You quoted Beyoncé.”

“That was romantic!”

“It was a karaoke version of ‘Crazy in Love.’”

“Exactly! A love anthem for the ages.”

You turned to face him, nose brushing his. His eyes softened, no teasing now—just quiet affection, filling the space between you like sunlight.

“You’re a disaster,” you whispered.

“And you married me.” He kissed you, syrup-sweet and lingering. “Guess you’re stuck now, huh?”

You melted into him, fingers curling into his shirt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The house was quiet. Not in a lonely way, but in a “we live here now” kind of way.

Soft jazz played from your phone speaker, mixing with the sound of simmering pasta sauce and the occasional clink of cutlery. You stood at the stove, lazily stirring the pot, wearing one of Gojo’s t-shirts that hung off your shoulder and barely covered your thighs. He hadn’t stopped staring since you walked out of the bedroom in it.

“Hey.” His voice broke through the kitchen’s cozy hush. “You know how people say domestic life is boring?”

You glanced over your shoulder. Gojo was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, smirking in that effortlessly cocky way that made you want to kiss him and flick his forehead at the same time.

“Yeah?” you said.

“They’re wrong. You cooking in my clothes is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen me shirtless in mirrors a lot.”

You rolled your eyes and threw a wooden spoon at him. He caught it with one hand and kissed the handle. “Satoru,” you warned.

“What? I’m appreciating my wife.”

“My very tired wife. Who worked all day and is still cooking dinner because you tried to make garlic bread in the microwave.”

“I thought it would be faster!”

You laughed—soft and easy, the kind of laugh that only came out with him. He crossed the space between you, arms sliding around your waist from behind.

His lips brushed your temple. “Let’s just order takeout next time.”

You hummed, leaning back into him. “Only if you pick something that isn’t sushi again. You always forget the wasabi.”

He gasped. “The slander in this home!” Then he added, quietly, against your neck: “But I’ll remember next time.”

Dinner turned out edible. You ate on the couch, legs tangled, your plate resting on Gojo’s thigh while his head was tilted back, mouth open dramatically.

“Tell me this isn’t peak romance,” he said between bites.

You grinned. “You’ve got sauce on your chin.”

He turned to you, lips puckered. “Clean it for me?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and sweet. “There. Better?”

He looked dazed. “I forgot what we were talking about.”

Later, dishes done (by him, as penance), the two of you lay curled up in bed. The windows were cracked open, letting in the sound of cicadas and the smell of summer. His hand rested on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles.

“Hey.” His voice was barely a whisper now, breath warm against your ear. “I know we joke a lot, but…”

You turned toward him, curious. His expression had softened, his eyes shining even in the dark.

“This,” he murmured, brushing a knuckle down your cheek. “You and me, like this. It’s everything I never thought I deserved.”

Your throat tightened, heart stuttering with the weight of his words.

You kissed him gently—once, twice—then buried your face in his chest. “Well. Too bad. You’re stuck with me.”

He smiled against your hair. “Good. I was planning on staying the night forever anyway.”

And in the hush of your shared room, limbs tangled under soft blankets, you both knew: this was home.

————

The morning sun streamed through sheer curtains, painting gold across the floorboards and your bare feet. You blinked awake slowly, the kind of wake-up that only happens on Sundays—no alarm, no rush, no makeup, just the weight of a warm blanket and the man snoring softly beside you.

You turned your head.

Satoru Gojo was half-sprawled on his stomach, mouth open, hair defying gravity even in sleep. One of his long legs had somehow kicked all the covers to your side. His cheek was squished against the pillow, and he was absolutely drooling.

You grinned. “So majestic,” you whispered.

He cracked one eye open. “Mmm. I heard that, wife.”

You leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. “How unfortunate.”

Gojo groaned and pulled you down beside him, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. “Let’s never get out of bed. We live here now. Bed people.”

“Tempting, but someone promised me pancakes.”

He groaned louder. “Why do I open my mouth.”

“Because you like to flirt, exaggerate, and make promises you can’t keep,” you said sweetly. “Also, you said it twice. In writing.” You gestured to the napkin taped to your nightstand that read in his handwriting: “Sunday Pancakes, I swear on my six-pack. Love, Husband.”

Satoru looked betrayed. “That was a romantic gesture!”

“That was a contract,” you said, already slipping out from under the covers. “Come on, Chef Gojo. Let’s see what you got.”

—

Thirty minutes later, your kitchen smelled like heaven and chaos.

Gojo was wearing an apron with a cat on it that said ‘I knead you’. His hair was tied up in the worst man-bun you’d ever seen, and there was flour on his cheek.

You were seated on the counter, one leg swinging, sipping lukewarm coffee and watching him flip pancakes like his life depended on it.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, flipping another onto the stack. “You only married me for my mediocre cooking skills.”

You held up your hand and made a small gesture with your fingers. “Mmm. Fifty percent.”

“And the other fifty?”

You tilted your head. “The way you look in this apron. Obviously.”

He grinned and crossed the room, sliding between your legs and resting his hands on your thighs. “Well, I knead you too, kitten.”

You groaned. “Why are you like this?”

He leaned in, voice low and warm, “Because it makes you smile like that.”

You melted. It wasn’t fair—how easily he could unravel you with something soft and simple.

“I love you,” you murmured, pressing your forehead to his.

“I know.” His thumbs stroked lazy circles on your legs. “You married me, remember?”

The pancakes were a little overcooked. The coffee was a little cold. He forgot the syrup.

But you ate together anyway, toes touching under the table, his foot trailing up your ankle. He stole bites off your plate. You stole kisses between chews. The crossword lay unfinished beside your mugs, a few random guesses scribbled in Gojo’s handwriting.

And when he looked at you with that stupidly tender smile, all soft lashes and sleepy love, you realized:

This was the good part.

Not the wedding. Not the honeymoon.

This. Burnt pancakes, bed hair, newspaper smudges on your fingers, and him—your husband—dancing with you barefoot in the kitchen when your favorite song came on.

Just life. Sweet, stupid, perfect life.

[amirasainz]

Hear me out. What about Charles x singer reader. She wants to write a new song and Charlss is helping her with playing the piano. Like, lots of couple goals.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

Composing Love

Yn sat in the sunlit corner of their apartment, her fingers lightly pressing the piano keys. A pencil rested between her teeth as she hummed a few bars of a melody. Sheets of paper were scattered on the floor around her, littered with scribbles, crossed-out lines, and hastily drawn musical notes. Despite the cozy setting and the warm golden light pouring through the window, frustration tugged at her features.

“Ugh,” she groaned, flopping back against the bench. “This isn’t working. It sounds... boring. Like elevator music.”

From the kitchen, Charles glanced up from where he was cutting strawberries. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her with a soft smile. Yn was beautiful when she was lost in thought, her lips moving silently as she tried out lyrics, her hair falling into her face. But when she sighed for the third time, he placed the knife down and walked over.

“What’s wrong, ma belle?” he asked, sitting beside her on the bench. “You’ve been at this for hours.”

Yn looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and exhaustion. “I can’t get the balance right. I can hear the song in my head, but when I try to play and sing and write, it’s like my brain gets tangled. It’s... it’s stupid.”

Charles chuckled softly and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not stupid. It’s hard to do all of that at once. Why don’t you let me help?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Help how? Last time I asked, you said the only thing you could play was the F1 steering wheel.”

“Touché.” He grinned, but then he nudged her gently. “I’ve been practicing since then, remember? You taught me the basics, and I’ve been working on it. Let me play the piano for you. You focus on singing.”

Yn blinked, surprised. “You’ve been practicing... for me?”

“Of course,” Charles said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Anything to make my girl happy.”

Her heart swelled as he slid onto the piano bench, cracking his knuckles dramatically. “Okay, maestro,” she teased. “Show me what you’ve got.”

He gave her a mock-serious nod before positioning his fingers on the keys. As he began to play, a tentative but sweet melody filled the room. Yn’s eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise—he wasn’t perfect, but he was good. Really good.

Charles looked up at her, his green eyes shining. “Is this close to what you had in mind?”

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice catching slightly. She picked up the pencil and tapped it against her lips, focusing on the lyrics she’d been working on. “Okay, let’s try this.”

She began to sing, her voice soft and rich, floating above the melody Charles played. Every now and then, he glanced at her, his expression a mixture of awe and adoration. Yn caught his eye once and faltered, laughing nervously.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, her cheeks pink.

“Like what?” Charles asked innocently, though the mischievous grin tugging at his lips gave him away.

“Like I’m a goddess or something,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands.

“You are,” he said simply, reaching over to gently pull her hands away. “Now sing. I want to hear my goddess’s voice.”

Her blush deepened, but she obeyed, picking up where she’d left off. This time, she let herself get lost in the music. Charles adjusted his playing to match her energy, his fingers moving with more confidence as the song grew in intensity. When she hit the final note, the room seemed to hum with the lingering magic of their collaboration.

Charles stopped playing and turned to her, his expression soft. “Yn... that was incredible.”

“Really?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Really,” he said firmly. Then, without hesitation, he stood, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her. It was a slow, tender kiss, full of the love and admiration he couldn’t always put into words.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. “You’re amazing, you know that? Every day, I’m grateful I get to love you.”

Yn’s eyes filled with tears, but she laughed, brushing them away. “You’re making me all emotional. I’m supposed to be working.”

“You’ve worked hard enough for now,” Charles said, sitting down and pulling her onto his lap. “Let’s take a break. You can tell me about the song—what inspired it?”

Yn leaned her head against his chest, tracing patterns on his shirt. “It’s about you, actually.”

Charles’s breath hitched. “Me?”

She nodded, her voice shy but steady. “It’s about how you make me feel... safe, loved, like I can do anything. I wanted the melody to capture that warmth, that... magic.”

He kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” she said fiercely, sitting up to look him in the eye. “You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, Charles. You inspire me every day.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other and the music they’d created together. Eventually, Yn slid off his lap, stretching her arms.

“Okay,” she said with a determined smile. “Let’s try it again. This time, I think I know how to fix the second verse.”

Charles returned to the piano without hesitation, his fingers finding the keys with ease. “Anything for you, my love.”

As they worked together, laughter and music filled the room, blending into a melody that was uniquely theirs—a song of love, teamwork, and the magic of two souls perfectly in tune.

[prythianpages]

Ooh-la-love | Cassian x Reader

cassian x love witch reader | summary: just some scenes of you helping Cassian with his love life, completely oblivious to the fact that you are the love of his life. aka idiots in love (Think of this of like a little montage of 'scenes')

warnings: fluff, both reader & Cas are pretty dense in this lol, mentions of Cas puking

a/n: This has been in my drafts since last summer. I had hoped to post it for valentines day...but better late than never right? This is approx 6.1K words. I tried to write this as a stand alone but it may need some further context from the other parts.

The Love Altar Mishap

“Oh, this won’t do.”

Nothing was working your way. Your coffee this morning was too bitter, you stained your pink satin shoes with some strawberry jam and you forgot the keys to your shop, forcing you to walk back to your apartment. Not that it was a far walk but you never forgot your keys!

It was all the aftermath of last night’s ritual–the one Maeve led again. Had it been anyone else leading your coven’s monthly rituals, you wouldn’t have minded it. Sure, you’d still be a little upset.

For years, that has been your role.

But the other witches wouldn’t have been as cruel as Maeve. She enjoyed rubbing salt to your wounded heart, reminding you of what you could no longer deny. Your magic was no longer the same. It hasn’t been since your fall, since…

A knot formed in your stomach and you took a deep breath, forcing the dark memories of those starless nights out.

As you gazed up at the bright neon sign in your shop, you couldn’t help but wonder if Maeve’s chaotic energy lingered within you. What once proudly proclaimed “Love This Way” now sputtered and flickered, the neon light barely illuminating the jumbled message of “Loe This Wa.”

 With a determined frown, you lifted your hands towards the sign, your fingers trailing pink stardust that drifted towards the bulbs. 

Instead of tightening the loose bulbs, a sharp, discordant crack echoed from the sign. You tried again, willing your magic to align with your intent…only for it to leave you with the bitter taste of failure. One worse than the coffee you had this morning.

The pink magic dwindled from your fingertips like a candle being extinguished. You took a step back. Just in time as one of the bulbs broke free from the sign, shattering on the floor and causing you to wince. You glared at your hands and then up at the sign. It continued to sputter and flicker but louder.

“Guess, I’ll have to do this the mundane way,” you huffed, turning your head toward where your lovely apprentice was. Moxie sat on a stool near the counter, absentmindedly swatting at the air. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” She asked after you summoned her for help, holding onto a wooden step ladder skeptically.

You had pulled it from the dusty corners of your storage room. It wobbled precariously and you shot a stern look down at Moxie as you slowly climbed up the steps. “It’s safe if you help hold the ladder steady.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, her face etched with unease. “These pesky love bugs have been taunting me all morning. I do not want to get bitten.”

“Why not?” You asked, voice strained from the way you were reaching up with your arm. The sign had originally been hung using your magic and never imagining your magic to wane, you had hung it way up high. Even on the ladder, reaching those bulbs in the cursive letters was a stretch. “A bite from them is a–is a blessing.”

“So you say.”

“So I say and everything I say…” your voice trails off as the tips of your fingers twisted one of the bulbs, successfully tightening it. “Goes. Ha! Look at that!”

“I refuse to believe they are blessings when they left red, angry bumps all over that customer’s skin last week.” Moxie pressed on with a grimace.

“Those are love bites, they–”

The sound of bells chiming and Honey’s curt “meow” cut through the air, causing you both to pause. You didn’t turn around, intent on finishing the job, instead calling over your shoulder,  “We’ll be with you shortly!” 

A sudden shriek from Moxie made your heart leap. You felt the ladder sway violently, a dangerous tilt threatening to send you crashing down. You moved with haste, hoping it’d stay steady long enough for you to descend but gravity worked quicker.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you prepared for the worst, your body instinctively curling into itself. The ladder clattered against the floor, echoing through the shop but you did not meet the same fate as the ladder.

A strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you flush against their chest.

“I’ve got you.”

If the voice did not give it away, then the scent of sandalwood and leather overwhelming your senses did. 

You blinked up at him, breathless. Hazel eyes scanned you with open concern, assessing for any injury. Relief flooded you, making your limbs weak, and you found yourself leaning into the warmth of his embrace.

“Cas,” you murmured, offering a breathless smile as you tilted your head back to look at him. Placing a hand over your hammering heart, you teased, “My hero.

A deep flush colored Cassian’s cheeks. It was endearing how you could easily make him blush. It seemed no one was immune to your charm. Not even the Night Court’s general.

It wasn’t until you gently pushed away that he seemed to realize he was still holding onto your waist. “Are you okay?” He asked as he let you go so you could turn and face him fully. 

“Yes,” you answered, then frowned, glancing toward the flickering sign. “But also, no. My magic is… well, it’s not magic-ing.” You winced at your own phrasing but were relieved when Cassian didn’t laugh. You only found concern etched onto his face. “And so I thought I could just fix it myself…”

You motioned toward the ladder and Cassian’s gaze dropped down to it. A frown creased his brow when he noticed the splintered wood scattered around. “The fact that you had so much faith in that ladder is horrifying.” Cassian commented, lifting his gaze to meet yours once more.

“I had faith in Moxie.” You corrected him, sparing a glance your apprentice’s way. She was swatting at the air and had now caught Honey’s attention, your cat’s eyes searching for those pesky little love bugs too.

“I can help.”

“Great!” Moxie beamed, clasping her hands together with an overly enthusiastic smile. “I’ll go back to sorting the candles in the back!”

You glared at her retreating back as she walked away. Honey trailed after her. So much for her help…or his…

Once Moxie was out of sight, you turned your attention back to Cassian. “How? I just broke my one and only ladder,” you said, nodding toward the broken wood lying not far from your feet.

Cassian crossed his arms, the motion making the muscles of his biceps flex beneath his fitted leathers. The movement was effortless, unintentional, and yet you couldn’t help but stare.

“Have a little faith in me, sweetheart.”

His words sent a jolt through you and your gaze perked back up to catch him sending you a wink. Even the red siphons wrapped around his wrists seemed glimmered, as if they, too, were winking at you. Had he caught you staring?

“Right…” you huffed out, fighting the blush threatening to take over your features. Since when were you flustered?

“You forget I’m not vertically challenged like you.”

“Excuse you?” Your jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief, regretting not wearing one of your many platform shoes.  “I’m not vertically challenged. You’re just vertically…blessed.”

Cassian raised a brow at you. ���Blessed,” he echoed in an amused manner. “I was referring to these,” he said, flexing his wings with a lazy stretch.

“Oh,” you breathed and you were left flustered. Again. Crossing your arms, you tried to appear to be unimpressed. “Well then, Mr. Winged Tall and Mighty, show me what you got.”

**

“Lovely!” You said with a small, excited squeal as you gazed up at the fully functioning sign. “I’m so happy, I just might kiss you!”

Cassian’s cheeks tinted. He descended with a satisfied but slightly sheepish grin, the red forcefield from his siphons giving out as soon as his feet met the ground. He had placed it to shield your shop from the gusts created by his wingbeats, not wanting to break any of your antiques or potions. As he tucked his wings behind him, a light breeze tousled your hair that you just knew was done on purpose. Most likely in retaliation for your comment.

However, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when the flickering sign was glowing steadily once more. That wave of warmth fluttered through your chest, full of gratitude and content. It spread through your veins, radiating out to your fingertips, where it ignited the long match you held, setting it ablaze with a vivid pink flame.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile, extending the match toward him. An act of kindness could go a long way in your world. Cassian took it with a curious look. “No kiss as payment—unless you absolutely insist—but since you’ve helped me out, let’s see what the love gods have to say today!”

You were already making your way toward the section of your shop dedicated to the altars, where the air hummed with the enchanting energy of love. Honey, now nestled comfortably in his heart-shaped bed by the counter, lifted his head at the sound of your movement. With an excited purr, the fluffy white cat stretched languidly before following after you, brushing affectionately against Cassian’s leg as he passed.

With every step Cassian took toward the five love altars, the magnetic allure in the air intensified, wrapping around him like a warm, invisible thread. The altars, each representing a different aspect of love—self-love, familial love, platonic love, romantic love, and erotic love—had been carefully arranged in the shape of a five-pointed star. The star itself was outlined in bright pink paint, glowing faintly with the very essence of love magic.

Cassian placed a protective hand around the match in his hand, though he suspected the flame would not go out until its purpose was fulfilled. To light one of the candles on one of the altars.

You stood right outside of the star, your eyes sparkling with excitement. Honey, ever-attuned to the energy of the space, brushed against your leg, his fluffy tail curling around you as he looked up at Cassian. He let out a curious, “meow.”

In the center of the star stood an older fae female. She, too, held a match, but its flame was kindled by the eternal candle that flickered on a small table beside you. After a moment of deep contemplation, the fae female approached the altar dedicated to erotic love, surprising Cassian.

He looked toward that altar. It was a vision of passion and desire, draped in deep reds and lush pinks. A chalice of what smelled like the sweetest red wine was in the middle, surrounded by silver charms and chains. Rose petals, soft and fragrant, were scattered across its surface. The flame of her match danced brightly as she extended it toward one of the waiting candles.

As the candle ignited with a bright, unwavering flame, the match in her hand extinguished, its purpose fulfilled. The older fae gave a small, reverent bow before turning to leave, her eyes suddenly widening as her gaze landed on Cassian, and then on you.

“May your desires be fulfilled,” you said sincerely. Your smile matched the brightness of the candle she had just lit.

The older fae returned your smile, her expression softening with gratitude. As she stepped aside, you turned to Cassian, giving him a gentle, playful shove. “Your turn.”

Cassian took a deep breath, attempting to calm the flutter of nerves in his chest. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He was just lighting a candle. He approached the center of the star slowly, his eyes drawn to the altar dedicated to romantic love. It shared the passionate reds and tender pinks of the erotic love altar, but where the latter exuded raw desire, the romantic love altar was adorned with heart-shaped charms, rose quartz crystals, and answered love letters.

His reflection caught his eye in the small, framed mirror at the back of the altar. For a fleeting moment, his gaze locked with yours in the mirror's reflection. There was a glimmer of hope in your eyes, but when you realized he had caught you watching, a reassuring yet slightly bashful smile played on your lips. You offered him an encouraging nod and he concentrated on his deepest desires.

With determination, Cassian stepped forward, intent on lighting one of the candles from the romantic love altar. But just as he raised his match, Honey darted toward him, curious eyes focused on the red siphons that began to glow. The cat weaved swiftly between his legs, the unexpected movement catching Cassian off guard. He stumbled, struggling to regain his balance as his arms flailed slightly.

A collective gasp rippled through the shop, and Cassian’s heart sank as he realized what had happened. He had lit the wrong altar. The candle’s wick flared to life, the flame swirling into a vivid heart shape before his eyes. He instinctively stepped back, his wings twitching in response to the sudden surge of magic in the air.

“By the Cauldron, I’ve been blessed!” the older fae female, who could easily be his great, great grandmother, exclaimed.

Before Cassian could react, she threw her arms around him. He glanced down at Honey, who was now blissfully licking his paw, completely untroubled by the chaos he had just caused. Then, Cassian’s head whipped toward you, hazel eyes pleading.

“Oh my,” you couldn’t help but giggle before rushing to his aid.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

The Butterfly's Kiss Mishap

Your reflection was bathed in a celestial glow as you gazed into the grand, full length mirror before you. The Mirror of Veiled Hearts, its glass enchanted to reflect your deepest desires when the right incantation is spoken. An heirloom entrusted to your family for generations. Due to its power and significance, you kept the mirror in the private room of your shop.

It’s surface was a perfect expanse of polished glass framed in silver filigree, its design woven with patterns of entwined hearts and vines. Clear quartz and moonstone draped over the top of its frame. The crystals glowed faintly and you sensed it was time to charge them. 

As you reached out for them, something caught your eye.

Confusion etched onto your face and you took a step back. A glimmer of hope sparked. Because as you looked at the mirror, you found hazel eyes staring back at you.

“y/n?”

You blinked, turning around and realizing that those hazel eyes were literally right behind you. How silly of you to think so, considering you needed to charge the crystals and say the incantation that gave life to its magic... 

“Simmering Cauldron, Cas,” you breathed, hand flying to your chest as a blush crept up into your cheeks. “You made my heart flutter!”

Cassian grinned sheepishly, his presence filling the room with warmth and air with his scent. He was dressed in casual pants and a snug black t-shirt that accentuated his muscular build. Your gaze lingered on the way the muscles in his arms shifted as he gestured toward the door. “I did knock, by the way.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Cassian replied, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck, his expression growing more sheepish. “Moxie said you didn’t have a client so after the third knock, I just let myself in…”

“I see…,” your voice trailed off awkwardly…wait a minute, since when were you awkward?

“What is that?” Cassian asked, nodding toward the magic mirror behind you. His siphons, reduced to two glowing crimson bands around his wrists, gleamed in response to the mirror’s energy.

“The Mirror of Veiled Hearts,” you replied as you turned to face the mirror once more. You reached for the purple cloth you kept nearby, hesitating for a moment before stealing one last glance at the mirror. 

A shiver coursed through you, and you quickly covered the mirror with the cloth. “Perhaps, when it’s charged, I’ll let you gaze into it.”

When you turned back to Cassian, your usual, charming demeanor returned. A warm smile lit up your face. “But I have something else in store for you today!”

**

Cassian leaned casually against the counter of your shop, his eyes tracking your movements as you approached the shelves lined with colorful potions. The last potion you had given him had left him feeling all warm and giddy and giggly. “Glee brew,” you had called it. “A feel good potion.” 

The potion worked in a similar way to alcohol. It held the power to make you feel light and release your inhibitions without the consequences of losing your balance or feeling hungover the following day. You even claimed it brought good luck.

Tapping one finger against your lips in deep contemplation, your eyes scanned the array of vibrant elixirs. Cassian watched as your eyes brightened, lingering on a vial filled with a shimmering blush-colored liquid.

“This one’s called ‘Butterfly’s Kiss,’” you said as you reached for it and made your way back to him. “It’s said to awaken the butterflies in your stomach, guiding you toward love. It’s one of my most popular—and potent—potions. I just brewed this batch this morning!”

Cassian glanced down at the potion you held out to him. The cork was fashioned into a dainty butterfly, its wings spread as if caught in mid-flight. He examined it for a moment before uncapping it with a crisp pop that startled Honey from his nap. The little feline’s white tail twitched as he blinked open his sleepy eyes and Cassian eyed the cat in a wary manner, remembering the last time he had piqued Honey’s interest.

“The nice thing about this potion,” you continued, drawing his attention back to you,  “is that it smells different to everyone, according to what they find most attractive. The stronger the scent, the more potent the potion.”

Cassian brought the vial to his nose, his brows furrowing slightly in a curious manner. He frowned slightly and looked back at you. “All I can smell is you,” he said, though the scent of rose and vanilla seemed to have wrapped itself around him since he entered your shop.

“What?” You exclaimed, a look of disbelief crossing your face. You took the vial from him, leaning in to sniff it yourself. “I’m getting the same thing—just you,” you murmured, puzzled. A small frown tugged at your lips as you set the vial down on the counter. “Why didn’t I–Cauldron above, my magic has never failed my potions…”

“I can still try it,” Cassian offered. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could utter a word, Cassian had already lifted the potion to his lips. 

“Cas…” you gasped, your hand freezing mid air, your eyes widening.

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as you watched him take a tentative sip and then a large gulp. The atmosphere in the room thickened with anticipation. Honey’s tail had gone still, and even Moxie, who had been restocking crystals, peered around the corner.

Cassian felt hot. 

His face flushed and he felt short of breath as a violent flutter tore through his stomach. It quickly escalated into a nauseating churn that spread through his insides and began to rise and rise and–

He set the vial down with a trembling hand, his knuckles white against the counter as he leaned heavily on it for support.

“Oh, Cas,” he heard you murmur.

You disappeared from his side with a sense of urgency and returned quickly. Moxie had brought a chair for him to sit and you placed a trash bin in front of him just in time. Cassian barely had a moment to react before he was doubled over, the effects of the potion manifesting violently.

**

“I’m so sorry,” you continued to apologize profusely as you brought Cassian some water.

He had wanted to help you in gathering all of the Butterfly’s Kiss potions but you insisted he remained seated, worried any movement would provoke his nausea again. You could only hope he spewed up all the potion he had drunk, worried about the lingering effects of a faulty potion still in his stomach. 

Moxie and Honey had helped you instead, the young fae holding out a box as Honey nudged the faulty potions off the shelves with his paw. The clattering sounds of the vials made you wince, a deep frown settling over your features.

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” Cassian said, offering you a smile as if he hadn’t just thrown up moments ago.  “Truly.”

Your pacing came to a brief halt as you looked at him with tear-brimmed eyes and though he seemed genuine, you refused to believe him.  “No, this isn’t okay. I made you sick and this has never happened before,” you said, starting to pace again.

With a resigned sigh, you brought your hands to your face. “Just burn me and carry my ashes to Day. High Lord Helion will know what to do.”

Cassian’s gaze shifted to Moxie and Honey. The young fae looked just as perplexed as he felt, while Honey blinked at him with mild indifference. He walked over to you and gently placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to a stop. Then, he reached for your hands, slowly prying them away from your face. 

Seeing the guilt and fear in your eyes made him feel worse than the potion he just drank. “I’m okay,” he repeated, hoping that if you couldn’t see the sincerity in his eyes, at least you could hear it in his voice. “You tried to warn me about the potion but I didn’t listen.”

“I’m still sorry…” Your lower lip wobbled, and Cassian had to resist the urge to soothe it with his thumb. “Are you sure you feel alright? I can call for a healer.”

“Sweetheart,” Cassian said, his voice warm and reassuring, “I’ve faced far worse than a faulty potion. I’m perfectly fine.” He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. There was a spark of mischief in his hazel eyes.  “Actually, you know what?”

“What?” you asked, your eyes wide and earnest, filled with a desperate need to make things right. The sight made something in Cassian’s chest tighten and soften all at once.

“I’d like to rinse my mouth.”

“Of course.” You nodded quickly as you motioned for him to follow you, leading him towards the bathroom at the back of the shop.

“Oh and y/n?”

You paused. “Yes?”

“I’m feeling quite famished.”

You blinked, the frown on your face slowly dissolving into an expression of disbelief. “You’re hungry…?”

Cassian’s response was a simple pat to his stomach, a grin spreading across his face. “Okay,” you shook your head, determination flaring in your eyes. “What would you like to eat? My treat.”

As you led Cassian through the shop, Moxie’s curiosity got the better of her. She peered into the box where you had hastily gathered all the potions, her fingers itching to explore. She picked one up, the glass cool against her skin, and uncapped it with a soft pop. Bringing it close to her nose, she inhaled deeply, a thoughtful hum escaping her lips.

“It smells like cardamom and parchment to me,” she mused aloud. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as realization slowly began to dawn on her.

Honey, ever the watchful companion, blinked knowingly at her, his bright blue eyes seeming to glow.

**

The bell above the door jingled as Cassian, Moxie, and you walked into the cozy crepe shop. The rich scent of fresh batter and sweet fillings filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of brewed coffee and vanilla.

Cassian led the way to a corner booth. Moxie slid into one side, her eyes wide with excitement as she picked up one of the menus, eagerly looking through it. You, on the other hand, trudged along behind him like a sad little raincloud, your mood still heavy from the earlier mishap in the shop. 

You slumped next to Moxie and Cassian slid into the booth opposite you, the forced cheerfulness on his face doing little to lighten your mood. Their voices blurred into the background as your thoughts took over. Your magic faltering was one thing but now your potion making skills? Had you been cursed? Had the stars lied to you??

You hadn’t realized Cassian had ordered for you until two crepes were gently placed before you. One savory, filled with ham and cheese, and one sweet, filled with berries and dusted with powdered sugar. Your favorites. You blinked, staring at the plates. Then at Cassian.

He was already halfway through his own plate, devouring his crepes with such eagerness (as if to prove a point) that it was almost comical. But the twitch of his lips let you know he had noticed your gaze.

Moxie, sitting across from you, nibbled on her own crepe, glancing between you and Cassian with a curious expression.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t a fan of blueberries,” Cassian commented mid-bite, noticing the way you pushed them around with your fork.

“S’okay,” you said with a shrug, not bothered. How would he have known? The fact that he knew you well enough to order something with berries was enough. “I’m just already feeling too blue…”

Moxie let out a snort, almost choking on her crepe. Cassian speared a strawberry from his own plate and dropped it onto yours.  “Here—eat up.” He gave you a lopsided grin. “Can’t have you feeling blue. Red suits you better, anyway.”

Cassian watched with satisfaction as the light returned to your eyes, the earlier heaviness melting away. And when you finally smiled back at him, he felt something flutter in his stomach.

But this time, there was no nausea. Only happiness.

He really liked your smiles.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

The Blind Date Mishap

“I look ridiculous.”

Cassian groaned, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt. It was a deep emerald green, a color he seldom wore. But a color you and Maurice, the shop’s ever-charming owner, meticulously picked out for him, claiming it “complemented the warm undertones of his tanned skin and brought out the different flecks of colors in his hazel eyes.” Whatever that meant.

From where you sat perched on a velvet chaise, legs elegantly crossed, you let out a dramatic gasp. “Nonsense! You look absolutely radiant!”

And you were right. Cassian did look good. The deep green fabric stretched perfectly over his broad chest, the expertly tailored cut emphasizing his build. Still, Cassian couldn’t help but reply, “you say that about everything.”

“That’s because you are handsome, darling,” you said matter-of-factly, waving a dismissive hand before hopping up from your seat. You made your way toward him, the soft rustling of your rose-colored skirt and clunk of your platform heels accompanying your every step. “But trust that I would let you know if something does not look good. Such as that faded flaxen yellow shirt you wore the other day...yuck!”

Cassian grimaced, his eyes twinkling with amusement at the memory. The look of utter horror on your face at his poor choice of fashion was one for the books. He turned back to the mirror, rolling his shoulders. Fine. Maybe the color did bring out the golden and green flecks in his hazel eyes, but something still felt... off. 

And he was starting to realize it had nothing to do with the shirt and everything to do with the fact that he didn’t want to be here, picking an outfit for a date he wasn’t particularly excited about. 

What if his date didn’t like him? He hadn’t gone on a proper date in months. What if he was out of practice? What if the conversation felt forced, each topic stretched thin until there was nothing left but awkward silence? What if she liked all the right things but didn’t get him, not in the way that you did? What if–what if he spent the whole evening searching for a feeling that wasn’t there?

Stop, he told himself. It’s just nerves. Anyone would feel the same after being out of the dating world for so long. It didn’t mean anything. And he wasn’t about to let a little nervousness stop him. Especially not when you had gone out of your way to set this up for him. He owed it to you to try. He owed it to himself, too.

“If you don’t feel confident in it, we can find you something else,” you said, resting a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder in reassurance. “Something that makes you feel more like yourself.”

“No, I’ll take this one,” Cassian responded a little too quickly, standing rigid. He had no desire to spend another minute in this shop.

Your eyes met his through the mirror’s reflection, searching. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Great!” You beamed, stepping in front of him. There was a brief pause as you tilted your head, studying him with a look of deep concentration. Your lips parted slightly, eyes trailing over him, and Cassian felt his heartbeat stutter in his chest.

Then, without a second thought, you reached up and—Mother above—unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, the backs of your fingers lightly grazing his collarbone as you did so. Cassian’s breath faltered, willing himself to stay still. You didn’t seem to notice or were polite enough to pretend not to. Instead, you moved on to smoothing his hair.

“There,” you declared, taking a step back and grinning with satisfaction. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

Cassian barely heard you over the hammering of his own heartbeat. You tossed out compliments as effortlessly as breathing, so often and so sincerely that no one ever doubted their truth. And yet, no matter how many times he reminded himself of this, it still made his cheeks warm and his chest tighten whenever you said things like that to him.

From behind the counter, Maurice let out a delighted chuckle. “You two make an adorable couple.”

Cassian choked on his own spit, coughing as he scrambled to regain composure. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with clearing his throat, he might have noticed the flicker of nervousness that crossed your face beneath your giggle.  “Oh! No, no, we’re just friends. This outfit is actually for a blind date I set up for him.”

“Oh,” Maurice said, perking up. And then, as if the idea had just dawned on him, he turned to you with a wolfish grin. “Well, if you’re not taken, my dear, I know quite a few eligible bachelors who would love to court a beauty like you. Such as my son. He seems about your age.”

Cassian’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His stomach twisted in a way he didn’t quite understand. An odd mix of irritation and something dangerously close to panic. His jaw tensed as Maurice turned his full attention to you, flashing that all-too-eager grin.

He suddenly hated this conversation. He hated the way the shopkeeper was looking at you—as if he had already decided you would be his daughter-in-law. He also was not fond of the way you were blushing.

Blushing??

Why were you blushing?

“Oh, that’s very sweet, but—”

“She’s very particular,” Cassian blurted out.

You blinked up at him in surprise.

Maurice arched a brow. “Oh? And do you know what she likes?”

Cassian opened his mouth—then closed it just as quickly. Not because he didn’t know what you liked. Of course, he knew. He knew your favorite shade of pink, your favorite dessert, your favorite candle scent. He knew the way you twirled a strand of hair around your finger when deep in thought, the way you practically melted when eating strawberry tarts.

But if he said any of that, he’d sound more like a boyfriend.

And he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was just your friend. A friend you were currently trying to set up with someone else. A date he was now actively dreading. Cauldron, save him.

Maurice smirked, his eyes flickering between the two of you, far too entertained. “Well,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, “if you ever lower those particular standards, I'd be happy to set you up.”

Cassian’s scowl deepened.

This was going to be a very, very long night.

**

Cassian sat at the candlelit table across from a beautiful fae woman with such warm and kind brown eyes. She was nice—sweet even—but as she spoke, he found himself only half-listening, his mind constantly drifting elsewhere.

Or rather, to someone else.

His gaze flickered toward the bar, where you sat nursing a glass of rosé. Sensing his gaze, you looked up and sent him a thumbs-up. He let out a small exhale, trying to focus on his date, but then someone approached you. A tall, handsome golden-haired male. He sat next to you and then, he leaned in, murmuring something that made you smile.

Something in Cassian’s chest twisted. He straightened in his seat, his wings tensing at his back.

“Everything all right?” his date asked, amusement lacing her tone.

Cassian cleared his throat, feeling a bit of guilt. The date had been lovely—held at one of Velaris’s most upscale restaurants. The appetizers were phenomenal, the wine the smoothest he’d ever tasted. And the female across from him was stunning, turning heads the moment she walked in. Yet he’d already forgotten her name.  Petunia? No, but it was something with a P or maybe some other type of flower...

“Yeah. Just—uh, the wine’s strong," he managed to say.

She seemed to smile knowingly, eyes drifting between him and the bar. “Or maybe it’s a lovely someone at the bar?”

Cassian stiffened, ready to deny it, but she only chuckled lightly. “It’s all right. I see the way you look at her.”

Heat rose to his face. “I don’t—” He sighed, almost defeatedly, shifting in his seat. “She’s my friend.”

“She’s the one who set up this date,” she pointed out, swirling her drink thoughtfully. “And yet, you haven’t stopped looking at her all night.”

Cassian had no response to that, his eyes involuntarily drifting back to you. You were still smiling with that stranger, and Mother above, it irked him more than he liked to admit.

“I get it,” his date said softly, and Cassian blinked, surprised by the warm admiration in her voice as she followed his gaze. “She’s… lovely. There’s this energy about her—it's I don't know, it's irresistible. She almost swept me off my own feet when we first met."

Cassian let out a small chuckle. “Yeah,” he murmured, a hint of wistfulness in his tone. “She kind of does that.”

**

Meanwhile, you sipped your wine, engaging in light conversation with the male beside you. Every so often, your eyes drifted toward Cassian—just to check that he was doing alright, of course. You truly hoped the date was going well for him, but you couldn’t shake the strange feeling twisting in your gut.

Maybe tagging along had been a mistake, even if you’d kept your distance. Still, he’d been too nervous to go alone, almost backing out last minute, and that’s exactly why you came.

The feeling settled a little when you saw Cassian and his date now engaged in some conversation. You couldn’t deny the tiny pang in your chest at the sight then. But this was what you wanted—for Cassian to find someone, to be happy. And yet, something settled over you, an ache you didn’t understand...

Jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it. Could it…?

You turned your attention back to the male beside you, forcing yourself to stay engaged.

But a commotion at Cassian’s table immediately drew your gaze.

“Shit—” Cassian cursed, suddenly pushing back from the table. Your gaze narrowed in concern, following his own as he looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers as if they burned. His date blinked in confusion.

“You okay?” You heard her ask.

“I—I think I’m allergic to something,” Cassian muttered, standing abruptly. He looked at his date with some guilt.  “I’m so sorry. I think I need some air. I'll be right back."

Without another word, he strode toward the exit.

Alarmed, you set down your drink and hurried after him. Cassian stood near the restaurant's entrance, shaking out his hand as if trying to rid himself of some invisible ailment.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, reaching him.

He turned his palms toward you, and even in the dim glow of the lanterns, you could see the faint redness blooming across his skin. “My hand,” he muttered. “It's tingling and feels like its on fire.”

You grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand closer to inspect the redness. And then—you saw it. A tiny mark, flushed red like lipstick on skin, near the pulse point of his wrist.

You gasped, a flutter in your chest and pupils flaring into hearts. “Cassian, you got bit by a love bug!”

He blinked. “A what?”

“A love bug!” you repeated, excitement creeping into your tone, despite his growing confusion. “It means your soulmate is near!”

Cassian stared at you, dumbfounded. “You’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this!” you said, deadly serious. “This is a good thing, Cas! The love bug only bites when you’re close to your true love, whether it's physical proximity or the right time. I knew Viola was a match!"

He frowned, rubbing at the mark like he could erase it. He conveniently ignored the part about Viola. His eyes met yours instead

“Have you ever been bitten?” he asked.

Your smile faltered, just slightly, a shadow flitting across your expression, as you quietly admitted, “no.”

The single word hung between you, heavier than it should have been.

If the love bug only bit when someone’s true love was near…

Cassian's heart stuttered. Why now? Why here? Why did the bite come when he was on a date with someone else?

When all he'd been able to think about...talk about...was you?

a/n: I feel like it's still lacking it's zazz but idk if that's just because I've read this over so many times. I hope y'all still enjoyed these two idiots that are falling in love with each other.

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi, @bxtchopolis

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette,

@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore, @kodafics

[hedwig221b]

hi! i wanted to know ig you’ve got any recommendations of the pack knowing about stiles and derek even before they realised it for themselves lol. thanks in advance <3

Hi! Maybe you'll like these ones,

O Father of Mine by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"He told me he understood, and that he was happy we were both happy, and that if I hurt you he knew how to kill a Werewolf and where to hide a body.” Stiles paused in his task of spooning rice onto one of the plates, giving Derek a weird look. “My dad had a similarly confusing discussion with me this morning,” he admitted. “Yeah, I’m not sure I understand what he was talking about.” They stared at one another for a long while in silence. “Dude,” Stiles finally said. “Does my dad think we’re dating?” “Is that what that was?” Derek asked.

how to court a werewolf by graveltotempo

Stiles accidentally begins a courtship with Derek. Wary at first, the werewolf accepts, and Stiles ticks off all the boxes of a traditional Hale werewolf courting - oblivious to the whole thing. Because of course he is. Peter thinks the entire thing is hilarious. Cora thinks that they deserve each other. (spoiler alert: they do)

Welcome to Rosie's Diner can I interest you in an eye-opener? by crossroadswrite

When the unfairly attractive couple walks in, at their usual hour, Kat starts humming the wedding march. Jason elbows her sharply in the ribs, trying to hide his snicker even as he waves nicely at them. “Fuck they’re so pretty,” he sighs mournfully, “why did they have to be a couple, that’s just unfair.” “I know,” she commiserates. (Or: The one where Stiles and Derek are regulars at Rosie's diner and exactly zero of the employees believe they're not actually a couple, I mean come on look at them.)

Accident (Waiting to Happen) by Jerakeen

"You’re just jealous of our friendship,” Stiles says cattily, butting the top of his head more firmly into Derek’s armpit. “Right,” Scott says, putting his jacket on. “I’m jealous that I don’t get to snuggle on the couch with the two of you.” “Obviously,” Stiles agrees.

Stupid Say What? byisthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Stiles shoved another bite into his mouth, glancing over at Boyd and Erica. Boyd was smiling down into his eggs benedict and Erica was grinning at Stiles. He frowned in confusion, his chewing slowing. Tucking the food into one cheek, he asked, “What?” ���Nothing. It’s just nice. I like when the four of us come out together. Our little double dates,” she teased, stabbing her fork into a strawberry and putting it between her lips. Stiles snorted at her comment, since this wasn’t a double date—he wished—but didn’t comment on it because he liked their outings, too. Even if he whined incessantly about it until he got there, it was always a good time.

Define "Dating" by raisesomehale

"You and Derek text each other memes?” she sounds both surprised and delighted - but more surprised. “Well,” Stiles says, “I send memes. Derek sent me a picture of a newspaper comic strip, once.” Lydia says, “Oh my god.” - OR the 5 times people point out that Stiles might be dating Derek + the 1 time Derek tells Stiles they're dating himself.

Together, Unfold by vipertooths

"Everyone thinks we’re dating.” Derek blinks at him once, twice, thrice. “What?” “Dating. Going steady. An item. Courting. Seeing each other. Romantically ent—” “I know what dating is." Or: Seven times Stiles and Derek weren't dating & the time they finally started.

Nurses Know Everything by Flicker_Ash

After a lacrosse game, Melissa looks around for Isaac. She's surrounded by family, her son, Noah, Stiles, both of whom are practically part of the family tree by now. Her urge to bring Isaac into this mismatched family is stifled when she sees he might not be as alone as she thought.

Other fic recs: angsty fics + pt2 + pt3 | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious Stiles | oblivious sterek | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | feral Stiles | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic | void!Stiles | sheriff dissaproves | Stiles doesn't know about werewolves | soft fics | hales love stiles

[liv2post]

Dungeon Bats

Animagus!Snape x Animagus!Professor!Reader Wordcount: ~1000 Summary: Severus Snape thinks the Muggle Studies professor is strange only to find out she is an animagus with an awfully familiar form.

Read here or on ao3

The Muggle Studies professor was strange.

Hogwarts always had its fair share of odd characters occupying teaching positions. Even a ghost, evidently, was capable of teaching. But he couldn’t place what it was about you that made him so suspicious. 

You were human, not like Firenze or Professor Binns. You weren’t kooky like Hagrid or Professor Trelawney. Outwardly, you appeared perfectly normal. However, there were oddities if one looked closely.

You ate fruit. Lots of it. Every day at breakfast, instead of toast, eggs, bacon, sausage, things the other teachers would partake in, your breakfast consisted of fruit and only fruit, including a cup of pumpkin juice. Your plate appeared almost like a small pyramid, stacked with cubes of cantaloupe, pineapple, strawberries, honeydew, and grapes, leaving behind a pool of sweet juices when consumed. 

You also had a tendency to pop up and disappear seemingly out of nowhere. One time he went into your classroom to talk to you about moving a couple of detentions around only to find it empty, having swept his gaze around it. Just as he approached your office door to knock on it, you uttered a soft “hello” as you stood in the middle of the classroom, making him jump out of his skin. 

Furthermore, Filch had brought up to him once that he could hear some perplexing screeching noises echoing from random parts of the castle at night and even what sounded like right outside the windows. What was strange about it is he only brought them up the morning after you were scheduled to perform rounds.

This wasn’t to say he disliked you. Quite the opposite. Out of everyone in the castle, he’d say he preferred your company. Who he'd rather sit next to at Quidditch games? Probably you. Even though you were the Muggle Studies teacher, you had plenty of knowledge about Care for Magical Creatures and DADA. Potions weren’t your forte, but you’d happily let him ramble about the subject, even when he’d realize too late that he was rambling. 

“Why do you eat so much fruit?” he asked one day when you came into his classroom eating a sliced-up apple.

“Oh, uh, that’s just my animagus urges. Sorry, am I dripping juice on the ground again?”

He blinked dumbly at you. “You’re an animagus?”

You chuckled, “You didn’t know, Severus? I thought Minerva would’ve told you. Yes, I am an animagus.”

“What animal?” he asked. You smirked and set down the apple slices on a nearby table before shifting. Your robes moved with you, swishing up and shrinking until you took the form of a fruit bat. You flapped and swooped about the air in a few circles before landing on the flat surface of the table, using your talons and thumbs hooks to wriggle toward your sweet fruit.

“You’re a fruit bat,” he observed. You screeched at him in confirmation and began to gingerly gnaw on the flesh of the nearest apple slice. Severus remained quiet for a little, seemingly thinking to himself as his fingers flexed and his jaw clenched slightly. Much to your curiosity, he wordlessly set his wand down and took a deep breath. Within a flash, his robes swooped around him, and in his place was a fruit bat, just like you, but bigger. He flapped his wings just hard enough to get him onto the table as he landed with an audible thud. It was pretty much impossible for bats to take flight without launching from a tree or a high-up place.

[Woah! You’re a bat too? That’s awesome! Is that why students call you a “dungeon bat?”]

[Yes, I am an animagus whose form is also a bat, and no, that’s just a coincidence.]

[How come you’re so much bigger than me?]

[You don’t exactly tower over me, Y/N.]

From then on, the two of you would sometimes go on day flights if both of you had some free time. While both of you wished to fly at nights, you still needed time to sleep and perform your teaching duties during the day. However, your favorite times were when the both of you were scheduled to do rounds. Your classrooms were on opposite sides of the castle so it was almost like a game to use echolocation to find each other in the dark and meet up. It was a little fun considering the dungeons were almost maze-like. If the two of you were sure that no students were out and about, you’d ditch your duties, ascend up the Astronomy tower, and take off into the night sky, playfully chasing one another or showing off flying moves. 

Severus hardly used his form unless it was necessary. It’s not like one got to choose which animal they could shift into. Admittedly, he was a bit let down when he first shifted all those years ago, but with you he learned to embrace his batiness, though he still resisted such urges when it came to eating a castle’s worth of fruit. He liked flying, of course, but he found that he quite liked hanging upside down too, especially when he needed a break from grading or just wanted a change of scenery. Sometimes he’d come hang around your office when you were grading and vice versa.

Dumbledore came to visit his classroom one late afternoon to talk about a particularly unruly Slytherin, but could not find the potion master anywhere, not even in his office. It was rather dark, all the lamps extinguished and curtains drawn. What he did notice, however, was two wands haphazardly tossed onto the stone ground near Snape’s desk, one of which he recognized as your wand. Dumbledore craned his neck up towards the ceiling where an old chandelier hung and sure enough, hanging from one of the rungs was a large fruit bat, and swaddled in its wings being held close to its fur, a smaller fruit bat. The both of you were napping. The old wizard smiled at the sight and slowly receded back through the doorway, happy that Severus had finally found a little bat of his own.

[purplereina11]

The Perfect Shot Series You go on a sightseeing day with Alexia

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Conversations surrounding drugs

You were sat in one of the many seats of Badalonas home ground had to offer working away the sun high in the sky this mornings early training session had come to an end and the girls were long gone for the day leaving you alone with your work, you usually went home but with only a small balcony that didn’t get the sun you opted to stay and sit in the crisp Barcelona air the sun gently warming you. Your phone buzzing interrupted your flow, you looked at it sat on the seat beside you, and you felt your lips tug at the sides.

Alexia Putellas has requested to follow you

Alexia Putellas has requested to send you a message

You saw on the screen the two notifications that peaked your interest and your heart rate, you didn’t hesitate to lift your phone, you hastily accepted her follow request before going to your messages.

You are quite possibly the hardest person to find online

You messaged with Alexia, your laptop cast a side your mounting work load forgotten as you exchanged messages with Alexia, she soon hinted she was free before outright asking if she could see you today after not seeing each other for four days, with a location and a promise you packed your belongings up and headed home in your car to get an uber into the city to meet its hero.

You were nervous moving through the streets to get where Alexia said she’d be relying on your google maps hoping it was taking you to the correct place. You soon caught sight of her in a baseball cap that did something to you that was far too early to be thinking those thoughts about her, or was it? Who puts a timeline on those things anyway. “Hola” she spoke standing up off the wall she leant on her lips tugging in a little smile that always made your heart not beat in its normal rhythm.

As the sun sat high above Barcelona, casting a golden glow over the city, you and Alexia found yourselves ready to embark on an adventure that promised to be filled with laughter, discovery, and cherished moments. The air was alive with the scent of fresh pastries from nearby bakeries, and the vibrant colours of the city called out to you like an artist's palette, eager to be explored. Alexia pointed to where she was taking you first.

Your first stop was the bustling Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria, a historic market that stood as a feast for the senses. As you entered, the sights and sounds enveloped you—vibrant stalls overflowing with fresh fruits, aromatic spices, and the rich hues of cured meats. Alexia's eyes sparkled with delight as she led you through the vibrant aisles, encouraging you to sample everything from juicy strawberries to tangy olives. 

“Try this!” she exclaimed, handing you a piece of jamón ibérico, “It’s one of my favourite things, I’d eat it everyday, I do eat it every day actually” she joked making you laugh as she tried the sample. The exquisite Spanish ham that melted in your mouth. The flavors danced on your palate, and you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Together, you wandered through the market, sharing bites of delicious treats and laughing at the amusing encounters with vendors who playfully teased you both.

As you savored the last bite of jamón, Alexia grabbed your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. "Come on," she said with a mischievous grin, "I want to show you something." She led you out of the market and into the winding streets of the Gothic Quarter.

The narrow alleys were a maze of history and charm, with centuries-old buildings leaning in close as if sharing secrets. Alexia seemed to know every hidden corner, pulling you down tiny passageways and through hidden squares. You found yourself completely lost, but utterly captivated by her infectious energy and the magic of the city.

"Close your eyes," Alexia instructed softly, her hand still firmly in yours. You obliged, trusting her completely despite the butterflies in your stomach. She guided you forward a few more steps before coming to a halt, "Open your eyes," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear making certain places come alive if only briefly. You obliged, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation.

As your eyes fluttered open, you gasped in wonder. Before you stood a hidden courtyard, a secret oasis tucked away from the bustling streets. Lush greenery climbed the weathered stone walls, and a small fountain trickled softly in the center, its gentle melody mingling with the distant sounds of the city.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, taking in the scene. Alexia beamed at your reaction, her eyes alight with pride and something else—something warm and inviting that made your heart skip a beat.

"I discovered this place by accident a few years ago," she explained, leading you to a wrought-iron bench nestled beneath a canopy of fragrant jasmine. "It's my little sanctuary in the city. I've never brought anyone here before."

As you sat down beside her, the weight of her words settled over you. This wasn't just another tourist spot—this was a piece of her she was sharing with you. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on you, and you felt a surge of affection for this woman who had so quickly become such an important part of your life.

"Thank you for showing me this," you said softly, your eyes meeting hers.

Alexia's smile softened, and she reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle touch sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm glad you like it," she murmured. "I wanted to share it with you, I knew you’d appreciate it, I thought it would be something you’d like to photograph"

“Would you mind?” You asked tentatively- hand already on your phone, Alexia gave you the softest smile before nodding, you moved steps away from her and began doing what you honestly did best.

As you raised your phone to capture the beauty of the hidden courtyard, you couldn't help but focus on Alexia. She sat on the bench, bathed in dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above. Her baseball cap cast a soft shadow across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheekbones and the warmth in her eyes.

You snapped a few shots, trying to capture the essence of the moment - the serenity of the space, the play of light and shadow, and most importantly, the captivating woman at the center of it all. Alexia watched you with amusement, her lips quirked in that smile that never failed to make your heart race.

"How about one together?" she suggested, patting the spot next to her on the bench. You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as you sat down beside her. Alexia leaned in close, her shoulder brushing against yours as you held up the phone to take a selfie. The warmth of her body next to yours made your pulse quicken. You could smell the faint scent of her perfume - something that seemed to linger, you smelt it for days after your last meeting.

"Smile!" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. As you both grinned at the camera, Alexia suddenly turned her head and reached up with her hand turning your head planted a kiss on your lips just as you snapped the photo. The unexpected gesture caught you off guard, and you felt a rush of heat flood your face.

"Let me see!" Alexia said eagerly, reaching for your phone. You handed it over, still a bit dazed from the kiss. She swiped through the photos, her eyes lighting up. "Do you always have your eyes open when we kiss?” she teased

You felt your cheeks flush even more at her teasing comment. "I, uh... I wasn't exactly prepared for that," you stammered, a mix of embarrassment and delight coursing through you.

Alexia's laughter rang out, light and melodious in the quiet courtyard. "Well, we'll just have to try again then, won't we?" she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Before you could respond, she leaned in once more, this time slower, giving you a moment to catch your breath and close your eyes.

Her lips met yours, soft and warm, and you felt yourself melting into the kiss. Time seemed to stand still in that hidden oasis, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this secret garden. Your hand found its way to her cheek, thumb brushing against her skin as you deepened the kiss. Your body came alive when her hand gently placed on your thigh, as she moved her upper body closer as your mouths moved perfectly together her hand tantalisingly ran up your thigh over your jeans, moving up to your waist. It took everything in you to not moan right then and there.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both a little breathless. The kissing was certainly heating up between you, the more comfortable you both got.

"Better?" Alexia asked, her voice slightly husky.

You nodded, unable to find words as you gazed into her eyes, still dazed from the intensity of the kiss. Alexia's hand remained on your waist, her thumb tracing small circles that sent tingles through your body.

"Much better," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Though I think we might need more practice, just to be sure."

Alexia's eyes lit up with amusement and desire. "Oh, I think that can be arranged," she purred, leaning in for another quick peck on your lips. 

Alexia's smile widened, a mix of tenderness and desire in her eyes. She leaned in again, this time resting her forehead against yours. The intimacy of the gesture made your heart swell.

"I've been wanting to do that since I first saw you today," she confessed softly. "Actually, I've been wanting to do that since our last date."

You chuckled, feeling a rush of affection for her. "Me too," you admitted. "I couldn't stop thinking about you these past four days."

Alexia's eyes softened at your words, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "I couldn't stop thinking about you either," she murmured, her fingers tracing patterns on your waist. "That's why I couldn't wait to see you again."

The air between you felt charged with possibility, the hidden courtyard providing a cocoon of privacy that made you feel bold. You leaned in, capturing her lips once more in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. Alexia responded eagerly, her hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as you lost yourself in the kiss, in the feel of her body pressed against yours, in the quiet sounds of pleasure she made. When you finally broke apart, both breathless and flushed, you couldn't help but laugh softly.

"We should probably cool off a bit," you said, though your body was nothing but cool.

Alexia nodded, her eyes still dark with desire. "You're right," she agreed, though she made no move to put distance between you. "We should probably explore more of the city. I have so much I want to show you."

You reluctantly stood up, immediately missing the warmth of her body against yours. Alexia took your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours, savouring the way your fingers intertwined so naturally, as she led you out of the hidden courtyard and back into the winding streets of the Gothic Quarter. As you left the hidden courtyard, you felt a pang of regret at leaving your private oasis, but excitement for what else the day might bring.

The streets of the Gothic Quarter were still bustling with life as you emerged. Alexia led you through the maze-like alleys, pointing out interesting architectural details and sharing snippets of history. Her knowledge of the city was impressive.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones as you strolled hand in hand, Alexia pointing out hidden gems and sharing stories about the city she clearly loved. You found yourself falling not just for her, but for Barcelona itself, seeing it through her eyes.

As you turned a corner, the imposing facade of the Barcelona Cathedral came into view, its Gothic spires reaching towards the sky. Alexia tugged at your hand to keep you moving, “Come on”

“but I” you said only briefly looking to her looking back up at the Cathedral you were in awe of.

“Later” she promised gently squeezing your hand, “I’ve got us a closed visit inside first"

The promise of an exclusive visit inside the Barcelona Cathedral sent a jolt of excitement through you. Alexia’s enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself eager to explore yet another facet of this enchanting city with her by your side. The towering Gothic structure loomed above, its intricate details beckoning you closer, but it was the thought of being with Alexia that made your heart race.

As you entered the cathedral, the air shifted, becoming cool and reverent. The high ceilings seemed to stretch endlessly, adorned with ornate carvings and stained glass that cast colourful patterns onto the stone floor. You felt a sense of tranquility wash over you, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the streets outside. 

“Isn’t it incredible?” Alexia whispered, her voice barely above a hush. She glanced at you, your eyes wide with awe, and she couldn’t help but smile at the way your passion illuminated the space. 

“It really is,” you replied, your gaze sweeping over the grandeur of the cathedral. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

As you moved deeper into the cathedral, Alexia followed you to a quiet corner where the light filtered through the stained glass, creating a magical play of colours. You took a moment to soak it all in, and she watched you, captivated not just by the beauty of the space but by your genuine appreciation for it. “Each window tells a story,” she explained, pointing to a particularly vibrant panel that depicted a scene from a biblical tale. “They’re like paintings, capturing moments in time.” 

You leaned closer, admiring the craftsmanship. “It’s like art that breathes life into history,” you said, glancing at her. 

“Exactly! That’s why I love it here,” she said, beaming. “Places like this remind me of the connection we all share, no matter where we come from.”

The moment felt intimate, the two of you surrounded by centuries of history as you shared your thoughts. The world outside faded away, and in that hushed sanctuary, it was just you and Alexia, your fingers re-intertwined her thumb gently moving back and forth over your hand as you maintained eye contact. “We can’t kiss in a Cathedral” you whispered with a smile, she laughed gently, she took a few steps back your arms extending her head flicked and you dutifully let her pull you along.

You moved towards the altar, where the golden accents glimmered in the soft candlelight. She could see the reverence in your eyes as you took it all in, and she felt a sense of gratitude for being able to share this experience with you. 

“Can you imagine the ceremonies that have taken place here?” You mused, your voice barely above a whisper. “The joy, the sadness, the love... it all resonates within these walls.” 

She nodded, the weight of your words sinking in. “if the walls could talk huh?,” she added, feeling the depth of the moment. 

As you explored further, Alexia’s excitement bubbled over when she spotted a spiral staircase leading up to the rooftop. “Come on! I want to show you the view!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. 

The climb was steep, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at her exuberance. “You’re like a kid in a candy store!” you teased, but she just laughed, her joy infectious. “And also a professional athlete unlike my self so slow down”

When you finally reached the top, the view took your breath away. The sprawling city of Barcelona lay before you, a tapestry of terracotta rooftops and vibrant colours stretching out to the horizon. The Mediterranean shimmered in the distance, and the warm sunlight enveloped you in a golden embrace.

“Wow,” was all you could manage, your heart swelling at the beauty of it all. 

Alexia stood beside you, her eyes scanning the landscape. “This is why I love this city,” she said softly. “Every corner has a story, every view is a memory waiting to happen.” 

You turned to her, the words resonating deeply within you. Her gaze met yours, and in that moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. She moved you to stand between her and the view her arms coming around you, with a gentle smile, she leaned it, and gently kissed your cheek, feeling the warmth radiating between you. The view was breathtaking, but it was the connection you shared that made the moment truly unforgettable neither saying a word just enjoying being in the moment plus Alexia didn’t want to disturb you taking your pictures. She was mesmerised how you worked your iPhone camera, the way you changed multiple settings between each picture, she usually just pointed and clicked.

Eventually, you both descended from the rooftop, laughter echoing in the stairwell as you reminisced about your adventures so far. “What’s next on the agenda?” you asked playfully, eager to see where the day would take you.

“There’s a little café nearby that serves the best churros,” she said, her eyes lighting up at the thought. “We can’t leave without trying them!”

With a shared sense of excitement, you made your way back through the cathedral and out into the sun-drenched streets of Barcelona after thanking the woman Alexia spoke to in Spanish thanking her for the private access. The bustling energy of the city welcomed you back, and you felt invigorated, ready for whatever adventures awaited. Alexia gave you your time outside to muse at the Cathedral take it in for all it was. You turned and spotted Alexia stood away from you watching you through the people, her soft expression drawing you back over. “Where’s these churros though?”

As you walked side by side, sharing stories and laughter, you knew that this day was just the beginning of something beautiful—an exploration of both the city and the connection you were building with Alexia. Each moment felt like a brushstroke on the canvas of your relationship, and you couldn’t wait to see how the masterpiece would unfold.

The café was charming, with outdoor seating that invited the sun to bathe you in warmth. As you settled at a small table, you could hardly contain your excitement for the churros to come. Alexia’s face lit up as she placed the order, and you felt a rush of affection for her enthusiasm.

When the churros arrived, they were golden and crispy, dusted with sugar and accompanied by a rich chocolate dipping sauce. Alexia’s eyes sparkled with delight as she took her first bite, letting out a satisfied moan that made your heart flutter.

“See? I told you they were amazing!” she exclaimed, offering you a piece. You took it, savouring the perfect combination of crunch and sweetness. 

“Okay, you were right,” you admitted, grinning at her. “These are incredible.” As you enjoyed the treats, the conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and playful teasing. You felt completely at ease. “Didn’t you say we couldn’t spend as many hours together as we normally do because you have a family dinner”

Alexia nodded checking her watch, “I’ve got an hour two yet” 

Alexia walked you to the beach as the sun hung low in the sky, casting a orangey glow over the gentle waves, the atmosphere felt almost ethereal. The beach, with its soft sands and the rhythmic lullaby of the ocean, became a sanctuary for you and Alexia, a place where time seemed to stand still. The world, with all its noise and chaos, faded away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of tranquility. The threat of Alexia having to rush off soon hanging over you both.

As you walked along the shoreline, the cool breeze tousled your hair, and the salty air filled your lungs with a refreshing essence. The faint sounds of laughter and music from nearby beach bars created a backdrop, but your focus was solely on her. Alexia, with her playful spirit and infectious smile, was a beacon of warmth and light. 

With a spark of spontaneity, she bent down to scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through her fingers as she turned to you. “You know, this is my favourite place to reflect,” she shared, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “Whenever I feel overwhelmed, I come here to think.” You could see the depth in her eyes, a glimpse of the soul behind the celebrated athlete. 

You began to share your own stories, tales of dreams and aspirations, of challenges faced and victories cherished. In her presence, vulnerability felt like strength, and you found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Alexia listened intently, her gaze unwavering, as if every word you spoke was a treasure she wanted to hold close.

Alexia’s gaze was fixed on the side of your face as you spoke, “I don’t speak to my family, haven’t had any contact in about six months and it’s been difficult and a lot to comprehend but it’s not by choice”

“Si?”

“The last time I saw my family I was told to leave and never go back, I was an embarrassment and a disappointment to them” You could feel the anger from Alexia and with the information you’d provided her, it wasn’t justified but your family was justified. You took a breath, “I met a girl on a night out, she brought me into a world and into situations I one should have known better and two I wasn’t equipped to handle.” You lowered your head, “I know and want to be honest with you but I don’t want you to think differently of me”

“We all have a past Y/N”

You smiled to yourself, “There’s a past, then theres, mine.” You sighed, “I’m just going to say it and if you want to walk away and never speak to me again then I won’t blame you” You began moving again, “It started with a bit of weed to help me relax” You paused, Alexia didn’t react her expression giving nothing away when you glanced to her, “Then it turned into pills on a night out, which changed to cocaine and before I knew it I was cooking meth and was a shell of my former self. I completely lost everything, I was a complete bitch to the people who tried to help me and and loved me, I broke my families hearts and I don’t think I could ever fix that and its something” You paused feeling the tears your head lowered when Alexia used her thumb to wipe them away, she didn’t run. “It’s something I struggle with, why I don’t talk about it”

Alexia gently wiping away your tears without a word her fingers laced into yours, she led you to a secluded spot where the waves kissed the shore in a gentle caress she took a seat on the sand, patting the space beside her. You settled next to her, the warmth of her body radiating against the coolness of the night. In this moment, it felt as if the universe knew what you needed and an none judgemental blonde was it.

“Have you ever thought about what it means to chase after your passions?” she mused, her fingers tracing patterns in the sand. “For me, football is not just a sport; it’s an expression of who I am.” Her voice was laced with a profound sincerity that resonated deeply within you. 

You nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of her words. “I believe our passions shape us, guiding us to places we never imagined we could go. Like now, I never expected to end up working in Barcelona.” 

She smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart flutter. “That’s the magic of life, isn’t it? The unexpected moments that shape our journey,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Our pasts shape us but they don’t define us” you turned your head to Alexia already looking at you, “We aren’t defined by what happens in the past but rather by how we respond to what happens to us, you chased after your passion despite a lot of people around you telling you to do other wise. I admired your strength from within yourself from the moment I met you, and all you’ve done by telling me your past is make me admire that in you even more. It changes nothing for me, I’m touched you felt you could share that with me”

You whole body softened at her words, your heart wanting to leap out your chest grab hold and never let go, “Thank you”

“No need to thank me” She turned her head out to the ocean as the waves continued their rhythmic dance, you both sat in comfortable silence, lost in thought. The planes above coming into land twinkled like diamonds scattered across a dark velvet cloth, each one a reminder of the endless possibilities that awaited. 

Eventually, the conversation flowed back into light-hearted banter, filled with playful teasing and laughter. Alexia challenged you to a friendly competition, daring you to race to the water’s edge. With a gleam in her eye, she sprinted ahead, her laughter echoing in the night air. You chased after her, exhilaration coursing through your veins, the chase feeling more like a dance than a race.

When you reached the water, breathless and laughing, the cool waves splashed against your feet, sending chills of delight through your body. She turned to you, her hair glistening in the fading light, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect. Walking back hand in hand, the warmth of her grip enveloped you.

When you reached her car, she paused for a moment, turning to you with a look of sincerity. “I’ll see you soon” she said softly, and in her eyes, you saw a flicker of hope and a hint of something deeper. 

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice steady, filled with determination. As you exchanged a final lingering glance, you felt a spark, a whisper of destiny echoing in your heart.

“Is your uber nearly here?” Alexia asked not wanting to leave you alone on the pavement, you nodded showing her your phone showing the driver only minutes away, with a press of your lips, a wave and a promise of future adventures, you watched as she drove away, the night air filled with the remnants of laughter and the sweet taste of her lips lingering. Barcelona had woven its magic around you, but it was Alexia who had truly captured your heart, leaving you yearning for the next chapter in this enchanting story that had just begun.

[amourquinn]

( drabble ) evening glow

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 900+

genre : fluff no warnings!

summary : you and quinn want to spend some quality time on the boat ( jack and luke are mentioned )

「 author’s note 」 yes i know.. a summer fic in the middle of winter 🙇🏻‍♀️ sue me

the early evening sun bathed the lake house in a soft orange glow, the kind of light that made everything look golden and magical. you stretched your legs out on the porch, letting the gentle breeze from the lake tousle your hair. it was the perfect weekend getaway—quinn had invited you to spend time at his lake house with his brothers, jack and luke.

you had spent the day kayaking, swimming, and laughing at jack’s bad jokes. the hughes brothers were a lively bunch, their energy contagious, but as the sun dipped lower, you were ready for a quieter moment. it seemed quinn felt the same.

“hey,” he said softly, leaning against the porch railing beside you. his hazel eyes, always so calm and steady, held a hint of something playful. “wanna go for a boat ride? just the two of us?”

you glanced over your shoulder at the commotion inside—luke and jack were arguing over the best way to grill burgers, their voices carrying through the open windows. a boat ride sounded like the perfect escape.

“i’d love to,” you said, standing up and brushing off your shorts.

quinn led the way down to the dock. the motorboat bobbed gently against the wooden planks, the water shimmering like liquid glass. he helped you into the boat before untying it and hopping in himself.

the hum of the engine broke the peaceful silence as quinn guided the boat out onto the open water. the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and fresh water. you leaned back against the seat, letting the calm of the lake settle over you.

as the shoreline grew distant, quinn slowed the boat to a gentle drift. the lake stretched out around you, endless and serene. he turned off the engine, and for a moment, the only sounds were the soft lapping of water against the hull and the occasional call of a loon in the distance.

“this is perfect,” you murmured, looking out at the horizon where the sun was just beginning to sink below the tree line.

quinn nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “thought you’d like it.”

he moved to sit beside you, his arm brushing yours. you turned to look at him, heart skipping a beat at how the fading sunlight caught the angles of his face, making his freckles stand out.

“i like spending time with your brothers,” you said, breaking the silence. “but I think I like this even more.”

his gaze softened. “me too. it’s nice to get away from the chaos for a bit.”

there was a quiet vulnerability in his voice, one that made you reach out and take his hand. he laced his fingers through yours, his touch warm and steady. for a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply be in the moment.

then quinn stood, his balance impeccable as the boat swayed gently beneath him. “wait here,” he said, disappearing into the small storage compartment at the front of the boat.

when he returned, he held a blanket and a small cooler. “i figured we’d be out here for a while,” he said with a shy grin.

you helped him spread the blanket out on the deck, and he pulled out a couple of bottles of sparkling water and a container of strawberries.

“you really thought this through,” you teased, popping a strawberry into your mouth.

he shrugged, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “i just wanted to make it special.”

and it was. the two of you sat on the blanket, talking and laughing as the sky turned from orange to pink to deep purple. the stars began to appear, their reflections dancing on the water.

at some point, quinn lay back, pulling you down beside him. you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. his arm wrapped around you, holding you close.

“this is my favorite place,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “the lake, the quiet… it feels like home. and having you here makes it even better.”

your heart swelled at his words. you tilted your head to look up at him, your faces inches apart. “quinn…”

he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle and full of emotion. the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you under the blanket of stars.

when you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. “i could stay out here forever,” you said, your voice barely audible.

“me too,” he replied, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

the evening passed in a haze of quiet conversation and stolen kisses, the kind of night that felt like a dream. when the air grew cooler, quinn reluctantly started the boat to head back to the dock.

as the lake house came into view, the glow of the porch lights guiding you home, you could hear jack and luke’s laughter carrying through the night. quinn helped you out of the boat, his hand lingering in yours as you walked up the dock together.

“think they noticed we were gone?” you asked, glancing toward the house.

quinn smirked. “probably, but they’ll get over it.”

inside, the chaos resumed—jack immediately started teasing quinn about being “whipped,” while luke pretended to gag. but you didn’t mind. you knew the quiet moments were yours and quinn’s alone, a secret you’d carry with you long after the weekend ended.

as you settled in for the night, the memory of the boat ride lingered, a reminder of the magic that could be found in the simplest of things: a lake, a sunset, and the person you loved.

© amourquinn

[elryuse]

May i request a fluffy smut ive liz x male reader. I just love her so much these days. I have no plot lol

Thanks for making the fluffy sakura smut that i anonymously requested. :3 It was amazing \(-w-)/

Strawberry Milk

Liz X Male Reader

Tags : Vanilla Sex, Idol Girlfriend Liz, Fluff, Romance, Shower Sex Words : 5,283 Words

Thanks for the Request. I hope You Liked It.

The soft hum of fluorescent lights, the constant beep of barcode scanners, the dull murmur of customers shuffling through aisles — it’s just another shift at your part-time job. You stand behind the counter, a little tired, a little bored, your hands idly restocking a rack of gum near the register.

But then—

Your eyes flick up to the TV mounted near the ceiling. It’s muted, but you don’t need the sound to know what’s going on. You know this broadcast by heart. Music Bank — IVE comeback special.

There she is. Liz. Not just “Liz from IVE.” Not just the K-pop idol the whole country’s obsessed with. No. Your Liz. Not the one in the spotlight, but the one who steals your hoodies, complains about ramen, and sends sleepy selfies at 3AM. She’s glowing on screen — hair soft and blonde again, eyes sparkling like there’s starlight caught in them. She’s laughing at something the host just said, dimples showing as she covers her mouth shyly. The fans are probably losing their minds right now. And honestly? So are you.

Even though you’re trying to keep it cool, a grin spreads across your face. You can’t help it. She’s just… Liz. Your girlfriend. Your heart. And even though no one around you knows it, your chest swells with pride every time you see her like this — bright, confident, radiant — owning every second of that spotlight.

You sneak glances whenever you can, in between ringing up customers and double-checking stock. And then the interview shifts. The host turns toward her and asks — you read his lips easily — “Is there someone special you’d like to say something to? Someone watching at home, maybe?”

Liz hesitates for a moment. Her lips part. She bites her lower lip. You lean in instinctively, holding your breath. Then—She smiles. And says: “I miss youuuu~”

It hits you like a wave.

You freeze — smile frozen, heart skipping an entire beat — as those words fall from her lips like a private whisper meant only for you. Of course, no one else around you knows. But you know. You know. That was for you.

You let out a breathless laugh, one hand lifting to rub the back of your neck, warmth blooming in your chest like a thousand butterflies. You glance around the store, hoping no one notices the stupidly smitten expression on your face.

God, you miss her too.

You pull out your phone under the counter and type a quick message.

[You]: I saw it. I miss you more. Idiot.

She doesn’t reply right away — probably swarmed backstage with stylists, staff, and members — but you know she’ll read it later. And when she does, you can already imagine her laughing quietly to herself, phone clutched close to her chest.

That kind of love — quiet, secret, but real — is what you live for.

You get off work just past ten. The night air is cool, the city quiet in that magical kind of way — like it's catching its breath. You walk the same route home, sneakers scuffing the pavement, earbuds in. The playlist she made you plays softly in your ears — a mix of acoustic love songs, chill R&B, and random weird tracks she claims “just feel like you.”

Your phone buzzes.

[Liz 💛]: You were watching?? 😭😭😭 I literally wanted to say your name SO BAD [You]: You did. I heard it. Every letter. Even the extra “u”s. [Liz 💛]: UGH you’re so gross (I love you) [You]: I love you more.

You smile like an idiot again, eyes soft.

Back at your apartment, you make ramen. The cheap kind. The one she always complains about when she visits because “you’re going to die eating this,” but then ends up finishing half your bowl anyway.

You scroll through your gallery while it cooks. Photos of her asleep in your hoodie. Her eating ice cream. Her pouting. Her holding your pinky under a blanket at the movie theater. Each photo is a tiny moment — stolen between comeback schedules, fan signs, rehearsals. Hidden from the world, but deeply yours.

You miss her in all the quiet ways.

In the mornings when your alarm goes off and she’s not there to smack your chest and groan. In the little mundane things like brushing your teeth side-by-side or fighting over who gets the last bite of kimbap. In the silence of your room when you roll over and she’s not curled up beside you.

And yeah — she’s famous. She’s busy. You knew what you were signing up for. But still… Missing her is like a dull ache that never fully fades.

She calls you at midnight.

“Hey,” she says softly.

You close your eyes just hearing her voice. “You’re still up,” you say.

“I’m always up for you.”

God. She doesn’t even try. She just says things like that and you melt.

“Your broadcast was amazing,” you tell her. “You looked unreal.”

She sighs. “I was sweating the whole time. You don’t even know. My bangs were stuck to my forehead like—like seaweed.”

You laugh. “Still looked beautiful to me.”

Silence.

Then she whispers, “I wish I could be there right now.”

“Me too.”

“I want to fall asleep in your bed and smell your gross body wash again.”

“…Rude.”

She giggles. You love her laugh more than you can describe.

“I’ll be back in three days,” she murmurs. “As soon as this promo finishes. I’ll sneak out. Even if it’s just for one night.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

That night, you sleep with your phone clutched against your chest, her voice playing faintly in your dreams. And somewhere far away, in a hotel room with blackout curtains and a busy schedule waiting for her, Liz sleeps with the same exact longing — dreaming of you.

Well This is Suprising, You didn’t expect to see her tonight.

It’s almost 2:57 AM. You’ve just come back from a late-night run to the convenience store—instant coffee, microwave pizza, and that one bag of spicy chips she always steals from your snack drawer.

Your apartment is quiet, as usual. That kind of lonely quiet that only amplifies the weight on your chest. The warmth of her voice during that call two nights ago still lingers in your head. It’s always like this, the days before she comes home—you're half-excited, half-anxious, barely able to sleep.

So you don’t.

You stay up scrolling through your phone, watching her fan-cam clips, reading fan posts gushing about her smile, and laughing when they point out the little quirks only you truly understand. “Liz tilting her head again when she doesn’t know what to say 😭😭” someone wrote on X. You grin. She’s always done that—even back when she wasn’t famous, just Liz, your girlfriend, that one girl who always wore mismatched socks and drank banana milk like her life depended on it.

You lie back on your bed, phone dimly lit on your chest, letting sleep pull you under—

And then: three soft knocks at your window.

You jolt upright.

What the—?

You live on the second floor.

The knocks come again. You throw off the blanket, heart racing, shuffle to your window and pull open the curtains.

And there she is.

Liz.

"Miss me?" Liz whispers, her breath warm against your ear as she perches on your windowsill, her hoodie slipping back to reveal strands of her dark hair catching the moonlight.

You don’t even think. You yank open the window, letting the cool night air rush in as she tumbles into your arms, her laughter muffled against your chest. “You’re insane,” you mutter, holding her tighter, like if you let go, she might vanish—a midnight illusion.

“Insane for you,” she murmurs, her voice soft but laced with that teasing tone only she can pull off. Her arms wrap around your neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at the base of your skull. “One night. That’s all I could get.”

Your heart clenches. One night. It’s not enough—it’s never enough—but you’ll take it. You’ll take every second she’s willing to give.

“Your manager’s gonna kill me,” you say, pulling back just enough to see her face.

She smirks, her eyes glinting in the dim light. “Let them try.”

You laugh, despite the knot in your chest, and brush her bangs out of her face. Her skin is cool from the night air, but her smile is warm, familiar, home. “God, I missed you.”

“I know,” she says, her voice dripping with that shameless confidence you adore. “I saw your tweets.”

You flush, heat creeping up your neck. “You stalk my account?”

“Mm-hm,” she hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m your number one fan.”

You shake your head, but the smile doesn’t leave your face. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the cold.”

You lead her to the bed, the two of you collapsing onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. She’s on her side, facing you, her hoodie discarded now, leaving her in an oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder. Her eyes are half-lidded, exhaustion etched into her features, but there’s a softness there too—a vulnerability she only ever shows to you.

“Are you okay?” you ask, your voice low, almost a whisper.

She blinks, her brow furrowing slightly. “Why?”

“You looked dizzy in that rehearsal video.”

She sighs, turning onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “I was. I haven’t eaten real food in like, three days. Just cucumber water and black coffee.”

Your stomach twists. “Liz—”

“I know, I know,” she says, cutting you off with a wave of her hand. “It sucks. But I’m okay. I’m here now.”

You reach out, gently brushing your thumb across her cheek. Her skin is soft beneath your touch. “I hate how they work you.”

She turns her head to look at you, her eyes soft, almost sad. “Sometimes I hate it too. But I try not to think about it when I’m with you.”

“Then don’t think,” you say, your voice firm but gentle. “Tonight, you’re just mine.”

Her lips curve into a small smile. “Tonight, I’m always just yours.”

You make her ramen at 4 AM, the good kind you’ve been saving for a special occasion. She leans against the kitchen wall, wearing one of your oversized shirts, her hair tied up in a messy bun. Her eyes are half-lidded, exhaustion written all over her face, but there’s a sparkle in her gaze—a secret joy only you get to see.

“This feels illegal,” she murmurs, sipping the broth like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

You shrug, leaning against the counter across from her. “It probably is.”

She grins, her nose scrunching up in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat. “God, I love you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, stealing your breath. You pause, your heart pounding in your ears. “Say it again.”

She looks up at you, her face lit only by the weak kitchen light. “I love you.”

Again.

“I love you.”

Again.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she says between bites, laughing now, her voice filling the small space between you. “Are you gonna cry?”

You almost do.

Back in bed, with her curled up beside you and the first rays of dawn peeking through the curtains, she mumbles against your chest, her voice heavy with sleep. “You know, I dream about this every night.”

You run your fingers through her hair, your touch gentle. “What?”

“This. Us. You. Not having to hide.”

Your chest tightens, a familiar ache settling in your heart. “I want a world where I can hold your hand in public,” she continues, her voice soft but steady. “Where I can kiss you on the street and not worry about headlines. Where I can tell my fans about you and still have their support.”

You press a kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering for a moment. “We’ll get there,” you whisper. “Even if it takes years.”

She sighs contentedly, her body relaxing against yours. "I love you," she murmurs again, her breath warm against your skin.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your voice barely audible.

And then she’s kissing you, her lips soft and insistent, her hands gripping your shirt as if she’s afraid you’ll disappear. You kiss her back, your fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between you. Her body is warm against yours, her hips pressing into you as she deepens the kiss, her tongue sliding against yours.

You break apart, both of you breathless, and she looks at you with a mischievous grin. "I want you," she whispers, her voice shaky but certain.

"Liz," you start, but she cuts you off with another kiss, her hands moving to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. Her lips are on your neck, her teeth grazing your skin, and you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel.

Her shirt joins yours on the floor, and then she’s straddling you, her hands on your chest, her lips trailing down your body. You groan, your hips arching up to meet her, and she laughs softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"Relax," she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. "Let me take care of you."

And you do. You let her take control, let her lead, let her show you just how much she’s missed you. Her hands are everywhere, her mouth hot and hungry, and you’re lost in her, completely and utterly lost.

The first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains as she rides you, her body moving in perfect rhythm with yours. Her head tips back, her hair cascading down her back, and she moans your name, the sound sending a wave of euphoria through you. Your hands grip her hips, guiding her, urging her on, and she leans forward, her lips finding yours again in a desperate, feverish kiss.

"Come with me," she whispers against your lips, and you do, the world exploding in a burst of light and heat as you both reach the edge together.

She collapses against you, her body trembling, her breath hot against your skin. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close, and she buries her face in your neck, her lips brushing against your pulse point.

The room is still shrouded in the soft haze of dawn, the air thick with the scent of sweat and intimacy. Liz lies sprawled across your chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. Her breathing has slowed, but her body still hums with the residual energy of what you’ve just shared. You stroke her hair, the strands damp and tangled, and she lets out a contented sigh.

“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice low and raspy, “how about a shower? I feel… sticky.”

You chuckle, the sound rumbling through your chest. “Sticky, huh? That’s your fault.”

She lifts her head to look at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And whose fault is it that I couldn’t keep my hands off you?”

“Fair point,” you concede, grinning. “But you’re the one who climbed through my window at 3 AM.”

She smirks, leaning in to brush her lips against yours. “And you’re the one who let me in. So, shower?”

You nod, and she slips off the bed, her movements graceful despite the exhaustion that must be weighing on her. She extends a hand to you, and you take it, letting her pull you to your feet. The two of you make your way to the bathroom, the tiles cool beneath your feet. Liz turns on the shower, the sound of water hitting the tub filling the room. Steam begins to rise, fogging up the mirror and wrapping the space in a warm, humid embrace.

She steps into the shower first, the water cascading over her body, and you watch as her skin glistens under the stream. She turns to you, her hair already plastered to her face, and extends a hand. “Come on,” she says, her voice soft but laced with something urgent.

You step in after her, the water immediately soaking you from head to toe. Liz pulls you close, her body pressing against yours as the warmth envelops you both. Her hands roam over your chest, exploring every inch of you as if she’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin. Her touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine despite the heat of the water.

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear. “Let’s make this day unforgettable,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as her hands glide down your torso, tracing the lines of your muscles. She presses you gently against the cool tiles, her body pinning you in place. Her lips find yours, and the kiss is slow and deep, a languid exploration that leaves you breathless. Her tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours, and you groan, your hands gripping her hips.

Liz pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark with desire. “I’ve missed this,” she admits, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you whisper, your hands moving to cup her face. “Every damn second.”

She smiles, her lips curving into that familiar, mischievous grin. “Good,” she says, her voice teasing. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Her hands slide lower, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach before she wraps them around you, her touch firm and confident. You gasp, your head tipping back against the tiles as she begins to move her hand, her strokes slow and deliberate. Her lips find your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she nips and sucks, leaving behind a trail of marks that she knows you’ll have to hide later.

“Liz,” you groan, your voice ragged. “You’re going to kill me.”

She laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Not yet,” she murmurs. “I’m just getting started.”

Her hand picks up speed, and you feel the tension building, coiling in the pit of your stomach. But before you can tip over the edge, she stops, her grip loosening. You open your eyes to look at her, confusion and frustration written all over your face.

She smirks, her expression wicked. “Patience,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

You let out a strangled laugh, shaking your head. “You’re evil.”

“And you love it,” she counters, her hands sliding up your chest as she leans in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is harder, more demanding, her teeth tugging at your lower lip as she presses herself against you. You can feel her, warm and wet, and the ache in your body intensifies.

She breaks the kiss, her breath hot against your lips. “Turn around,” she instructs, her voice firm.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you do as she says, turning to face the tiles. Liz’s hands are on your back, her fingers tracing the lines of your spine, and then she’s pressing herself against you, her body flush with yours. Her hands move to grip your hips, and she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear. “Relax,” she whispers, her voice soft and soothing.

You feel her shift behind you, and then she’s guiding you into her, the sensation overwhelming as she takes you in, inch by inch. She lets out a soft moan, her hands tightening on your hips as she begins to move, her rhythm slow and deliberate. The water continues to cascade over you both, the sound mingling with the soft, breathy sounds she’s making as she rocks against you.

“Liz,” you groan, your hands splayed against the tiles as she picks up speed, her hips snapping against yours with a force that leaves you gasping. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks that you know will stay with you for days. Her breath is hot against your neck, her moans growing louder, more desperate, as she chases her own release.

“Come with me,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she nears the edge. “Please.”

You don’t need to be told twice. The tension in your body snaps, and you’re lost in the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, her body trembling as she follows you over the edge. She collapses against your back, her breathing ragged, her heart pounding against your skin.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, the water still streaming down around you, as you catch your breath. Liz finally pulls away, her hands sliding up your back as she turns you to face her. Her eyes are soft, her expression tender as she looks at you.

“I love you,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I say it enough.”

You cup her face, brushing a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. “I love you too,” you whisper back. “And you don’t have to say it. I already know.”

You turn off the shower, the room suddenly quiet except for your ragged breaths. Steam lingers in the air, clinging to your skin as you grab a towel, wrapping it around her. She’s still trembling from the intensity of the moment, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as she looks at you with those eyes—those eyes that always seem to see straight through you.

You lift her effortlessly, her arms instinctively wrapping around your neck as you carry her to the bed. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, intimate light over the room, and you lay her down gently, her damp hair fanning out against the pillow. Your body hovers over hers, the towel slipping away as you press her into the mattress.

“I need you,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, thick with desire.

Her hands slide up your chest, her fingertips tracing the contours of your muscles as she nods, her breath hitching. “Always,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

You position yourself between her legs, your arousal pressed against her warmth. Slowly, agonizingly so, you slide into her, her body arching to meet yours. Her breath catches, and she lets out a soft moan, her nails digging into your shoulders. You move with her, your bodies perfectly in sync, every thrust deep and deliberate.

Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, closer, until there’s no space between you. Your foreheads press together as you move, your breaths mingling, her lips brushing yours with every ragged exhale. The rhythm builds, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it feels like you might shatter.

“You feel so good,” she gasps, her voice trembling. “I don’t ever want this to end.”

You don’t respond with words. Instead, you capture her lips in a searing kiss, your tongues tangling as you pour everything into it—every ounce of love, every ounce of need. Her moans are muffled against your mouth, her hands roaming your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

The sound of skin against skin, her soft whimpers, your harsh breaths—it’s all so intoxicating, so raw. You feel her body tightening around you, her walls clenching as she nears the edge. Her nails rake down your back, and she throws her head back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck.

“I’m close,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “Please… please don’t stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. You push her closer, deeper, harder, until she’s unraveling beneath you, her climax crashing over her in waves. Her body shakes, her back arching off the bed as she cries out your name, her voice raw and desperate.

It’s enough to push you over the edge, your own release following hers. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, your hips stuttering as you spill into her, your body trembling with the force of it.

For a moment, you stay like that—your bodies still joined, your breaths ragged, your hearts pounding in sync. Her hands slide up your back, her touch gentle as she pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your shoulder.

“I love you,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I say it enough.”

You press a kiss to her collarbone, your lips lingering against her skin. “I love you too,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure. “And you don’t have to say it. I already know.”

She smiles, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. “Good,” she says, her voice drowsy. “Because I’m never going to stop loving you.”

You lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the world outside your window forgotten. The silence is comfortable, intimate, broken only by the occasional whisper of affection or the soft hum of contentment.

But then, her phone buzzes on the nightstand, shattering the moment.

She groans, reaching for it reluctantly. “Ugh, it’s probably my manager.”

You watch as she unlocks the phone, her expression shifting as she reads the message. Her brows furrow, and she bites her lip, a flicker of worry crossing her face.

“What is it?” you ask, propping yourself up on one elbow.

She hesitates, her thumb hovering over the screen. “It’s… nothing. Just some scheduling stuff. I’ll handle it tomorrow.”

But you can tell it’s more than that. There’s a tension in her shoulders, a tightness in her jaw that wasn’t there moments ago.

“Are you sure?” you press, your voice gentle but insistent.

She sighs, setting the phone down and turning to face you. “Yeah. I’m sure. I don’t want to think about work right now. I just want to be here with you.”

You nod, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Okay. Then we’ll forget about it for tonight.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Instead, she leans in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Thank you,” she murmurs against your lips. “For always being here for me.”

You kiss her back, your hands sliding down her sides, pulling her closer. “Always,” you whisper.

She hums in response, her fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss deepens, the worry momentarily forgotten. Her body arches into yours, her warmth pressing against you as she whispers, “Do that thing again. The thing you did before.”

You smirk, your lips trailing down her neck. “Which thing?”

She lets out a breathy laugh, her hands sliding down your back. “You know exactly what thing.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your lips move lower, your hands exploring every inch of her body as you lose yourself in her once again. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of the night.

But as her moans fill the room, you can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. Something that could change everything.

You wake up to the smell of strawberry milk.

Not coffee. Not toast. But strawberry milk.

Your eyes open slowly, and for a moment, you think you’re still dreaming — because there’s Liz, crouched on the floor in front of the fridge, hoodie sleeves flopping over her hands, humming a cartoon jingle off-key as she struggles to pull the drink from behind the pickles you never moved.

She doesn’t notice you watching at first. She’s too busy doing a little happy dance after finally getting the bottle out, spinning around and bumping the fridge door shut with her hip.

Then she sees you.

“Oh nooo,” she groans playfully, dramatically shielding her face with the milk. “You weren’t supposed to wake up! I was gonna surprise you!”

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. “With what? Warm strawberry milk in bed?”

She grins, padding over with the bottle and two mugs she clearly grabbed without thinking. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

You let her pour the pink drink, both of you sitting cross-legged on the bed as if it’s the most normal breakfast in the world. She hands you a mug with a shy smile — like you haven’t already kissed her a dozen times in the last twenty-four hours.

“It’s kind of our thing now,” she says softly, watching you take a sip.

You raise a brow. “Strawberry milk?”

She nods. “Simple. Sweet. A little weird. But comforting.”

You chuckle. “Like us?”

She beams. “Exactly like us.”

You clink mugs. And for a while, you both just sit there — legs tangled, bed messy, morning sunlight slipping through the blinds — sipping strawberry milk like it’s some kind of sacred ritual.

After breakfast, Liz insists on building a “pillow fort.”

You’re skeptical, but the way she pouts — exaggerated bottom lip, big doe eyes, that high-pitched “pleeease” — you fold instantly.

You gather every blanket and cushion in the apartment, while she giggles and crawls around, making up the “official fort layout” as she goes. You accidentally knock over a pile of pillows and she dramatically fake-dies beneath them.

“I’m trapped,” she groans. “Only true love’s kiss can save me.”

You roll your eyes but crawl over anyway, brushing her hair from her forehead. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grins up at you, soft and glowing. “But you love me.”

You kiss her — slow and gentle — just like she likes in the mornings. “Yeah. I really do.”

Inside the fort, the world feels small in the best way.

Your legs are intertwined again, and she’s lying on your chest, doodling hearts with her finger against your shirt.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I wish time would stop.”

You run your hand through her hair. “Then let’s pretend it already has.”

She lets out a dreamy sigh, nuzzling closer. “You’re too good at saying the right things.”

“And you’re too good at making me feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

She laughs, soft and sleepy. “Then I guess we’re even.”

You spend most of the day inside that blanket fort — playing silly games, watching old cartoons, taking blurry selfies that Liz promises to never post (“but secretly keeps for herself”), and holding each other in every possible position a tangle of limbs can manage.

She teases you when you get emotional during a sad episode. You pretend not to notice when she hums your favorite song into your shoulder. She tries on your shirts, dramatically modeling them like it’s Fashion Week, then collapses laughing when you rate each one with a serious poker face.

It’s not the glamorous life of a K-pop idol.

It’s better.

It’s real.

It’s yours.

That night, you lie in bed with her again, this time on your side, faces inches apart.

Her voice is sleepy but laced with something warm. “You know what I love about you?”

“What?”

“You always treat me like a person first. Not an idol. Not a celebrity. Just… me.”

You brush your thumb along her cheek. “Because you are just you. That’s who I fell in love with.”

She smiles so softly it makes your chest ache. “Promise me we’ll keep being like this. Even if things get busy. Even if we’re apart.”

You link your pinky with hers. “I promise.”

She kisses your hand, then rests it against her heart.

Moments later, she’s asleep — peaceful, safe, warm in your arms.

And for once, there’s no noise, no pressure, no flashing lights.

Just Liz.

Just love.

[flawseer]

In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

[wileys-russo]

ahem. You. I have a foxy request— her obsession with her kindle while she’s dating you, perhaps? You don’t want to go paperless, but Foxy keeps trying to convince you to get a kindle. She’ll hide your book and make comments like “but if you had a kindle” and teasingly roll her eyes, but it goes both ways? Maybe R is taller than her, so one day she takes emily’s kindle and holds it over her head and emily tries to get it back and R just keeps gently tapping her head with the kindle before holding it back up. Absolutely no pressure, this just sounded like smth down your alley?

brand deal II e.fox

“em?” you called out hesitantly, frowning as the majority of the lights were switched off in your apartment and you let yourself in. “emily?” you called again, hair pricking up on the back of your neck as you took a few cautious steps forward.

“where is she?” you mumbled with a frown, knowing she was in fact here given she’d called you about five minutes ago as you were pulling into the parking garage to check when you’d be home.

you settled a little as you flicked on the living room lights, hanging your bag up and shrugging off your puffer jacket. “you’re back!” you screamed and almost fell over at the new voice interrupting the thick silence.

“don’t do that!” you scowled at your girlfriend, kicking off your shoes as she made her way closer with a grin. “do what? say hi?” the brunette teased as your facial expression remained unamused.

“why were all the lights off you freak? i called out for you twice!” you defended, making your way into the kitchen to wash your hands.

having caught your neighbours practically pantsless in your buildings elevator the other day you’d made sure to thoroughly wash your hands every time you had to enter it since.

“well it was light outside when i started this chapter, and now…many chapters later, it’s dark.” emily shrugged in explanation as you gave her an odd look.

“you were reading…in the dark?” “yes." "do you have like some superhuman ability to see in the dark that you just never told me about?" "obviously?"

"oh well sorry i didn't realise i was dating a mutant!" you teased with a roll of your eyes, your girlfriend smiling in amusement. "you don't need the lights on to read on a kindle babe." the american revealed the truth as you rolled your eyes again but this time less playfully.

"you know if you had one-" "don't try to brand deal me fox, i know all your little tricks."

"no come on, don't be like that!" emily laughed at your obvious disdain as you moved to start rummaging through the fridge. "like what exactly?" you sighed, tapping your foot trying to magically conjure up what you were going to cook for dinner with your severe lack of groceries.

the two of you were going away for a few days since there wasn't a game this weekend for arsenal and the girls were given some time off, so you'd both put off buying anything which might perish while you were gone.

"like such a negative nelly." "you are so american sometimes its painful." "hey! you were living in the states by your own choice when we met, thank you."

"emily i truly believe that if it was put to you that you had to choose between being with me or never reading on that stupid thing again, you'd choose the kindle." you pivoted back to the original subject making the brunette chuckle.

"and if i said you might be correct?" she grinned teasingly as you pulled your head out of the fridge to shoot her an unimpressed glare in warning.

"joking, i'm joking! just using my delightful sense of humor that helped you fall so in love with me in the first place." your girlfriend smiled charmingly as you hummed and bit back a smile of your own.

"since we have no food, how about i take you and paige to dinner?" emily offered, leaning around you and snagging a half empty bowl of strawberries out of the fridge, pulling herself up to sit on the counter to pick at them.

"me and who?" you closed the fridge and turned to look at her with confusion, untwisting the cap on a bottle of water and taking a sip. "paige." emily echoed as you waited for her to elaborate which she never did, just smiling at you as if nothing was wrong.

"who is paige?" you sighed, sensing you likely weren't going to enjoy her answer as the grin on her face grew.

"my kindle." "you named that thing?" "yes and you'll call her accordingly!" the brunette pointed with a playful glare. "darling i would so sincerely rather stick toothpicks into my eyes than address your kindle as if its a living thing."

"paige, address paige as a living thing." "are you cheating on me with an e-book fox?" "well she doesn't argue with me and nag me about doing my laundry after a game." "emily!" "just joking, joking again! trying to make you laugh since you have the most musical laugh babe." "kiss my ass fox." "who sounds american now?"

~

your rivarly with 'paige' only got worse as time went on, specifically as you both checked into the hotel you'd be staying at over the weekend for your little getaway.

your girlfriend had at least not pulled her kindle out the entire flight, the two of you playing a few very spirited rounds of her favourite card game instead and catching up on a few episodes of community which she had you watching for the first time.

but no sooner had you both gone out for a lovely meal together and a walk around town, retiring to the room for a glass of wine and some downtime, did paige resurface and not in the way you were expecting.

"em did you repack my case?" you questioned, sat on your knees and rifling around with a frown as your girlfriend had already settled herself in bed with her kindle in her lap ready to go.

"yeah you said i could put my big grey coat in if it fit, remember?" your girlfriend reminded as you hummed, eyebrows furrowing as you hunted around for what you wanted but came up empty handed.

"what have you lost baby?" the defender questioned as you unpacked and repacked your case for the second time.

"my books. i packed three of them and i can't find them? and i know they were in here because i was texting with lia about the series last night as i packed." you huffed in annoyance, sitting back and glaring at your now messed up case as if they might make them magically appear.

"oh those? yeah they're at home." the american confirmed, sitting up and fluffing the pillow behind her as your head slowly turned. "they're what?" you asked slowly, unsure if you'd misheard her.

"they're at home." her fingers flew across the screen with a slick click clack as she typed in the password to the kindle, not even looking at you and missing the way your eyes narrowed toward her.

"as in...they're still in london. "well that is where we live." "why are they at home?" "i unpacked them, you didn't need them." "i don't need them?" "nope."

again you waited for her to expand a little, even clearing your throat as she glanced toward you with a smile and going back to her kindle. "emily why wouldn't i need them!" you stood now, moving to stand at the end of the bed with crossed arms and a scowl.

"well if you had a kindle, you could just download whatever books you want and carry an entire library in your bag instead, without the dead weight." "are you trying to market me again? i told you i am not buying one."

"you don't need to." your girlfriend shrugged as you scoffed and threw your hands up in the air. "why? because you could click your fingers and have one magically appear for free?" you jutted your hip out and raised an eyebrow.

"you know you look very hot when you're getting all mad and dramatic." the american grinned, successfully winding you up more. "where are you going?" your girlfriend laughed as you mumbled something under your breath and turned away, sitting down on an armchair to wrestle on some shoes.

"theres a gift shop downstairs and i'm going to buy a book since i don't fancy sitting here staring at the ceiling while you get to read all evening!" you huffed, grunting as you managed to wedge your feet into your trainers without undoing the laces.

"i told you, you don't need a book."

"actually i'm now going to go and find the heaviest book i can and hit you over the head with it!" you threatened, standing and making a beeline for the door, a rustle sounding behind you.

"emily." you groaned as her hand shot out over your shoulder and pushed the door back closed as you opened it. "come here please." the girl snapped the waistband of your pajama shorts and you let out a long and deep sigh before following her.

"here." the defender rummaged around in her own suitcase for a moment before grabbing out a box and shoving it into your hands. "see? no need for any books, you're welcome." she kissed your cheek and wandered back to the bed.

it didn't take you more than a millisecond to clock what the box was for, the brand name splashed across the front as you shook your head. "you kidnapped my books so you could force me into using a kindle?" you waved the box in your hand at the brunette who nodded.

"correct, and i already purchased and loaded those same three books and the two that come after it. again; you're welcome babe." "i didn't say thank you!" "i know, i'll be waiting."

"well you'll be waiting for a long, long time!" you huffed, dropping the box back on top of her pile of clothes in her case. "where are you going now!" emily asked with a frown as again you headed for the door.

"to buy a book. then maybe while i'm at it look a new girlfriend who likes the smell of the pages and cracking open a fresh new novel, the thrill of a dog eared corner and the hefty weight of the paper in your hands. someone who appreciates reading for what it is, not something done digitally!" you rambled out with a huff, hand on the doorknob.

"baby, you're being dramatic. come here and i'll read to you, you can even close your eyes and pretend its a book!" emily opened her arms expectantly as your gaze narrowed and her face lit up more as you took a few cautious steps toward her, stopping once you'd reached the side of the bed.

"come on babe its our first night on vacation lets not argue over something so silly, come cuddle." the american patted the space between her legs as you stared her down.

her features brightened yet again as you pushed her legs together and moved to straddle her lap, lips curling into a signature smirk. "actually, why waste time reading?" you breathed out, leaning in as your lips ghosted hers.

you leaned back slightly as the american surged forward, a smile on your face as a pout appeared on hers, kindle left on the nightstand beside her as one hand grabbed the back of your neck and the other your hip trying to pull you closer for a kiss.

however right as you leaned in to do just that within seconds your arm darted out and fingers grabbed at the smooth cold metal, snatching the kindle and swinging yourself off of her, headed again for the door.

"babe what the hell? where are you going now?" emily groaned, head thumping gently against the wall behind her watching you walk away with a frustrated frown.

"oh well since you insisted on bringing 'paige' on holiday with us, i figured why should she miss out on all the fun? so i'm gonna take her for a little evening swim!" "don't you dare." "oh yeah? watch me."

again within seconds as your hand gripped the doorknob you heard the covers go flying and feet hit the floor, the door barely opened a few centimeters before a body jumped onto you and your own slammed into the door closing it again.

"give her back!" "no! you have a problem you just called an inanimate object a her!" "i said give it!" emily grunted, arms wrapping around your neck and legs clutching at your hips as you held the kindle away from your body, stumbling backwards trying to keep your balance.

"oh my god you are addicted to this thing, you need help!" "i do not! you just don't understand the future." "oh i do, i know the future is looking awfully wet for paige!"

"em!" you squealed as she managed to pull you down onto the bed, crawling on top of you as you quickly wedged the kindle under your back and fought to push her off.

the two of you bickered back and forth as you grabbed her hands and got a knee loose, pushing her off of you and trying to flee again as her arm wrapped around your neck and her leg around your waist in an attempt at some sort of sleeper hold.

you had a couple of centimeters of height on her though and held the kindle just out of reach, using it to bonk her several times on the head to try and get her to let go of you to which she protested loudly.

after a few more minutes of struggle you almost rolled off the bed, yelping as strong hands grabbed you and using that to your advantage you managed to climb back on top of her.

"are we really fighting over a kindle?" you managed to press her arms to the bed with a grip on her wrists, her chest heaving beneath you and both your faces flushed rosy pink after the tussle.

"yeah, yeah we are." your girlfriend sighed, body going limp as a beat of silence passed before you both shared a look and suddenly you were rolling off of her, both your combined laughter filling the air as you clutched your stomachs.

"this is so stupid!" you managed out with a shake of your head. "i know." the defender agreed with a chuckle of her own, both of you taking a second to calm down again.

"truce?" you held a hand up in the air, her own coming to interlock and give it a firm shake. "truce, i love you."

"i love you too." you smiled, head turning to look as hers did the same, the two of you craning your necks to sweetly peck one anothers lips a few times with some giggles, your body rolling so you laid half on top of her, legs intertwining as her heart pounded beneath your eat that was pressed against her chest.

"one thing though?" "mm?" "paige is not allowed to sleep in the bed with us."