#we all communicate in english every day in every meeting

[ninanirina]

the audacity of this NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKING manager who made a ''perfomance test'' por all of us latines working under them

IN ENGLISH

WITH TEN SECONDS TO READ AND ANSWER EACH QUESTION

fuck you. fuck you very much.

[merakiui]

promising young man.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, one-sided student/teacher relationship, obsession, dark thoughts, jealousy, delusion, brief descriptions of blood/gore, violence, death, murder, brief nsfw note - riddle's perfect world comes crashing down with the arrival of foreign exchange student azul ashengrotto.

He meets him in Intro to Psych.

Azul Ashengrotto struggles to parse English, but he’s dressed like a businessman with his pressed suit and leather Oxfords. The only thing that reveals his status as a student is the black backpack he carries to class. Riddle’s seen him around campus a handful of times. It’s hard to miss him when he seems to throw himself into social circles with practiced grace.

This is the first time he’s ever had class with him, though, and so now he gets to see him in a classroom setting. There isn’t much about him that immediately strikes Riddle as odd. He’s well-dressed and prompt with a polite tongue. Every time he speaks in his thick accent, the one that just commands admiration and attention, that tiny Italian flag pinned to the strap of his bag becomes even more apparent.

Riddle’s not sure what he’s doing in this class. Perhaps he’s aiming to study law as well. He’d hoped to find more people with similar academic hobbies and interests and, while he’s yet to form any lasting bonds, he’s been wondering what sort of person Azul is.

On the first day of class, he introduced himself with confidence: “Buongiorno, amici. I am Azul. I look forward to the year with all of you.”

Though the structure and pronunciation of English proved awkward in his mouth, that didn’t stop him from opening himself to others. He’s friendly and outgoing, always welcoming conversation when it’s thrown his way. Riddle finds it impressive. If he were in Azul’s shoes, he’s certain he’d feel just a little lost attending school in a new country, far from home, surrounded by people who speak a completely different language. But Azul is resourceful, a dab hand at communication despite the barrier in vernacular. Perhaps that’s where his charm comes from.

Riddle thought the two of them might get along.

But then Azul proved academically formidable, and then you began to pick his brain after class, during time that was specifically reserved for Riddle so that he could discuss psychology with you.

So now Riddle sits in his seat, impatiently awaiting his chance.

“The law over in here is fascinating,” Azul says, leaning closer as you show him something on the desktop computer. 

“What’s it like where you’re from?”

“Mm. How to explain… The law is…”

“It follows a civil law tradition,” Riddle pipes up, casually flipping a page in his textbook. He does it for show. He’s aware it probably makes him look like an arrogant know-it-all.

You peek past the screen at him. “Oh! Riddle, you’re still here. Hello!”

He hums, warming under your gaze. “I always am.”

“What was it you were saying about the Italian legal system?”

Azul stares at him. An unhappy frown tightens on his face.

Uplifted with pride, swimming in the clouds, Riddle elaborates: “I’ve only just started researching it, but it’s very interesting. In the realm of criminal law, trials are often led by judges or a select few to form a panel unlike the juries we have here. Of course you’ll find differences everywhere. All countries have justice systems and law enforcement. Still, it’s fascinating to compare and contrast the fine details.”

From across the room, Azul’s stink eye has never been more obvious.

“Ah, that’s right. I’ve heard a few things regarding the way cases are handled over there. From what you know, Azul, would you say the system is harsher here than it is there, or is it the other way around?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Azul says, and that polite mask of his slips for a second. “I’ve never done crime.”

Riddle snaps his book shut and rises from his seat. “Let’s hope not. You’ve a promising career ahead of you.” He smiles sweetly at Azul like he’s particularly stupid.

Azul tracks him as he packs his belongings away and strides towards the door. His brilliant blue eyes are dark. “Ci fai o ci sei?” he mutters, clicking his tongue discreetly. “Rompipalle…”

Riddle will later learn these are slang phrases. He’ll learn a lot of things later—things he thought he’d never need to learn.

Thinking it a joke, you laugh and wave your hand about dismissively. “Aren’t you going to stay, Riddle? I watched the first episode of that podcast you recommended.”

Riddle perks up at that. “You watched it?”

“This past weekend, yes. It’s a riveting series. They really dig deep into the facets of a criminal.”

“Don’t they just?” He hugs his textbook close to his chest, nearly vibrating out of his skin. Finally, the moment he’s been waiting for—an opportunity to speak with you. “I’m amazed at how much time and research goes into each episode, and they always treat each case with tact. It deserves so much praise.”

Azul glances between the two of you. Riddle is sick with satisfaction. Once more, his blue hues land on him.

“You like criminals?”

“Not in that way, of course not.” Riddle shakes his head. What a preposterous assumption. “I find their minds to be exceedingly, bewilderingly captivating.”

Azul blinks back at him, owlish. He doesn’t seem to grasp most of what Riddle’s just said.

“In short, I think they’re a fine learning experience.”

“An experience? Non capisco.”

“For those wishing to pursue a career in criminal justice or law. Think of it like watching a tape from a criminal investigation. It’s important to study the interview techniques and tactics utilized by detectives to understand what’s most successful in gathering a proper confession.”

Azul nods along. “Ah, capisco.”

“We’ll cover things like that later in the semester. Don’t feel so overwhelmed, Azul.”

“I’m not. I learn as I go. Grazie, Professor. You’re very kind.”

“I’m happy to help. If you ever need anything, my office hours are on that sheet I gave you. I had a colleague of mine translate the syllabus for you. If you have any questions or need accommodations of any kind, let me know.”

“I will.” He fixes the strap of his backpack and, after bidding you a final farewell, stalks past Riddle out the door. His footsteps echo down the hall until eventually they’re no more.

“Riddle, if you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you.”

“Of course. Anything,” he says hastily, his heart stumbling in his ribs. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, could you help Azul out? I notice he struggles taking notes during lectures. If you’d be willing to share your notes with me so that I can get them translated, that would be great.”

Riddle doesn’t want to share, but this is an opportunity to be praised in spades. “I’d be glad to. I’ll scan and email them after each class.”

“Thanks, Riddle. Your notes have always been so organized. This is a huge help. I’m sure Azul will be just as grateful.”

I’m not doing it for him, he thinks, bitter and envious.

But he just smiles, standing a little taller when you compliment him.

Your notes have always been so organized.

What is he getting so territorial for? He’s had you for four classes in past years. Azul’s only known you for a few measly weeks. That’s nothing compared to the special bond you have with him.

Riddle isn’t worried.

1 September, 20XX.

Dear Diary,

(Name) Rosehearts has quite the lovely ring to it. Far more musical than that of (Name) Ashengrotto. I’m almost certain he sits there in class, silently drooling over Professor. Just last week, he took my seat at the front. The gall to do such a thing! Can you imagine? He must know that seat is the best for getting a perfect view of Professor. It’s childish to bicker over seating arrangements and I refuse to stoop to his level. That said, the seat is mine. Professor’s time is mine.

I’ve deigned to share my notes, but only because Professor put such faith in my abilities by personally asking me. Even though it’s foolish, I’m tempted to sabotage the notes so that Azul will have incorrect study material. But that would be unfair and an infraction upon all that I stand for when it comes to academic fairness. Thus, I’ve refrained from doing anything of that sort. I’m certain Professor would disapprove.

It makes me happy to know Professor listens to the podcast I recommended. I wish we could discuss it at length, but Azul is always there and he takes up so much of what little time there is. It’s infuriating. I wish he would just drop out of the class. That way it will be just Professor and me, as it was intended.

Perhaps he will once the coursework comes knocking.

Sincerely, 

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle slumps forward over his desk and combs his hands through his hair.

“That rotten Azul…” he sneers, his face scrunching into something sour. “He’s always monopolizing your time… Does he not realize how important it is to me—how much I look forward to talking to you? And you smile at him… You look at him with those sweet eyes of yours and he’s completely undeserving of such treatment! It never does anyone any good to be greedy, yet there he is…”

He inhales deeply, holds it for a few seconds, and then exhales.

What am I supposed to do? How can I make this right again?

Azul isn’t breaking any rules. It’s not a crime to seek you out for conversation after each class ends. But therein lies the issue. There is nothing wrong with that. It would be wrong if, say, there was an illicit exchange between the both of you. Like a taboo relationship of sorts…

Riddle startles in his seat, his eyes blown wide.

Azul isn’t having a secret affair with you, is he? Not that it could be considered cheating when you’re not yet married (and Riddle intends to keep it that way). He has a plan. When he graduates, there will be no formal barriers holding him back from starting a relationship with you. He can email you freely without the need to circle back to academics. He can invite you for tea or coffee and the two of you can chat about things that aren’t school, and it won’t be weird or overstepping boundaries. Because he won’t be your student anymore. He’ll be Riddle, your former student. And former students have better odds than current students, do they not?

He’s thought it out carefully. He was raised to be responsible, to do everything right.

And though he’s thought of it in passing—considered what might happen if he were to try to play at being a seductive siren—he’d never truly act on such folly. But Azul… It isn’t too impossible to theorize he might be sleeping with you for a better grade. What if he’s forced you into it? What if he has some sort of wicked blackmail? What if you’re holed up in your office every day, scared for your career, while Azul bends you over the desk and uses that boyish charm of his, that silky-smooth accent, to coax the sweetest of sounds from—

Riddle shakes himself free of that thought. He’s not going to imagine it any further. He doesn’t need to be plagued with graphic imagery, gross as it may be.

Even though he chases the fantasy from his brain, it returns to poke at him. He gazes at his lap, noticing the substantial strain in his pajamas, and groans.

It would be easier if he wasn’t where he is now. Logically, he’s aware he doesn’t have much of a chance. Neither does Azul. Unless he’s sleeping with you in secret. Then he has a chance. But he’s not. He can’t. That’s against the rules.

And even if he was, it wouldn’t be very fair for him to do the very thing Riddle’s abstained from.

His hand closes around his dick. He feels pitiful as he pumps himself to scandalous visions. 

It’s not fair.

He should have a chance. In a perfect world, he’d have you. He’s earned this, hasn’t he? He’s worked so hard. So why isn’t he allowed to have you?

It’s not fair.

Why does Azul get to relish in your attention when Riddle’s left alone in the shadows? Why can’t you look at him like you used to? Why can’t you praise him for knowing all the answers? Why can’t you tell him good work when he does just that? Why must you coddle Azul? Riddle thinks he can speak perfect English. He’s just playing it up to look weak and pathetic—to garner your sympathy!

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

He’s the good one. The one with perfect marks. The one with perfect attendance. The one every professor holds in high regard.

Riddle squeezes himself and sucks in a breath through grit teeth.

He’s not funny like Azul. He doesn’t have that awkward charm Azul has. He can’t speak another language fluently. He’s never traveled out of the country. He thinks he knows everything, but he only knows so much.

He can fascinate you with the intricacies of his mind, each fold primed for education, but Azul can do better because he has social experience.

Riddle can’t believe it. He, of all people, is jealous of someone.

Cum oozes from his dick and coats his fingers in a pearly-white. It isn’t satisfying.

Right then, he thinks his world would be better if Azul stayed in Italy.

Or maybe it would be better if Azul wasn’t in his world at all. 

On his way out of class, Riddle stops Azul in an empty corridor.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He blinks back, oblivious. And then he smiles, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “What I’m doing?”

Riddle won’t say it. He can’t. Because then he’d be admitting the truth Azul’s trying to pry from his heart, whether that’s his intention or not.

“You know very well what you’re doing.”

A silent head tilt is his reply.

His temper is nearing its boiling point. It’s been on a low simmer ever since Azul first bewitched you, and it’s threatening to spill over.

“I see the way you and Professor look at each other during class. You may think it discreet, but I know.” Riddle folds his arms over his chest, feeling very proud of himself for successfully playing Sherlock. “I can tell there’s nothing formal about it. So how long has this been going on? How long have you been flouting the rules?”

Azul stares at him. His shoulders shake with his chuckle. “You’re funny.”

Riddle startles. His accent—

“I’m here to learn just as you are. What I do outside of the classroom is none of your business, so it would please me greatly if you could stop prying.”

His eyes narrow into vicious slits. “If you lay a hand on—”

“Oh, I’ve done more than that.” Azul smooths the nonexistent wrinkles in his sweater vest. The same brand of sweater vest that Riddle wears. “But you have no proof. The courts here will want that, won’t they? Or is it harsher here? Will you need to peer inside Professor to see for yourself? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never committed a crime.”

Disgust pools in his stomach. He feels like he could vomit, and it isn’t because he’s appalled by the conspiracy Azul’s proposed. It’s because he should’ve been the one to do it if it was that easy. Instead, he musters a mean glare.

“Who are you, Ashengrotto? What do you want?”

“I’m just a student like you. I want to learn lots from Professor.” He brushes past Riddle, his voice a melodious hum. “And some things can’t be taught in the classroom.”

Riddle opens his mouth to let the angry tirade fall, but he chokes on the words. There’s so much he wants to say, but all of it will come out accusatory. And that’s where Azul has him pinned. It’s all baseless accusation.

He doesn’t want to believe it. Surely you wouldn’t… It’s impossible! An academic and social infringement! It’s wrong!

It should’ve been him.

Later that evening, cooped up in his room, Riddle scrawls furious lines in his diary: He’s a liar. A cheat. An embarrassment to this institution. I should be the one who holds Professor. I should be there in Azul’s place. I’ve worked so hard. I deserve it. I’ve earned it!

He can’t let this madness go on any longer. He won’t tolerate it.

Looking at it logically, Riddle has illustrated the negatives and the positives in his notebook.

If Azul’s insinuations are true, then all Riddle needs is valid evidence. Unfortunately, that would mean you might lose your job given the circumstances. If it’s consensual, both of you are equally at fault. If it’s not, Riddle hopes Azul will burn in a terrible blaze.

But if you do happen to lose your job, it would relieve some of the weight burdening his situation. He could start a real relationship with you. It’s plausible! Perhaps not very realistic, but there’s always a shred of hope to be found in misfortune. 

Riddle wonders if he should just ask you and save himself the headache.

He gazes sidelong at Azul, who has since claimed that seat for his own, and chances a glance at his open notes.

That’s Riddle’s handwriting.

He’s sure of it. That’s his handwriting. He writes his notes in cursive. He writes in a perfect, elegant slant. His letters always connect. There’s no denying it; that’s his handwriting on the page.

A disturbing thought crosses his mind: Has Azul been practicing my handwriting?

It sounds impossibly silly. Who would devote so much time to something so witlessly fraudulent? Riddle wracks his brain for a reasonable explanation. Why would he need to practice someone else’s handwriting? Riddle could understand if Azul struggled to write in English. Most of his work is submitted in his native language. You allow this exception even though Riddle finds it unfair. Maybe it’s because you treat Azul’s work like it’s something special, and you jump through all of these hoops just to get it translated. Why can’t you treat his work with that same amount of care?

Riddle drags his pen along the page, scribbling mindlessly. Why is he doing that? He has nothing to gain from writing like me.

But then Riddle realizes the notebook is the same as his. The same color, in fact. He wonders when Azul purchased a new one. Did he purchase a new one, or has he always had this one?

Riddle looks down at his notebook.

That’s Azul’s handwriting.

He blinks twice and rubs frantically at his eyes. When he looks back at Azul’s notebook, it’s to a page filled with Azul’s stylish scrawl.

Have I…been copying him this entire time?

No, surely not! He would never plagiarize. That’s one of the biggest sins of academia. He couldn’t live with himself if he did that!

Besides, he’s not the copycat. It’s Azul in his sweater vest, boasting the same writing implements as Riddle, using the same brand of notebook. Riddle’s not copying him. It’s Azul. It must be.

It can’t be Riddle. He’d never do such a thing.

After class, you call Riddle up to your desk. He hesitates, his heart thrumming wildly, and shuffles over.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Riddle, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” You withdraw last week’s assignment from a folder and set it down. “You wrote this, did you not?”

Riddle scans the typed document. “I did, yes.”

“May I ask if the Italian was intentional?”

“The Italian?” he parrots, confused. “I don’t understand what—”

In between brilliantly articulated paragraphs, he’s sprinkled in Italian words and phrases.

He coughs out a rattled laugh. “I must have been studying it for another assignment before I did yours. I…can’t believe this happened. It was fully unintentional. I’m very sorry.”

His face is flushed cherry-red. He’s never felt more humiliated.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to ask. It definitely confused me.” You take the paper from him, smiling that understanding smile he loves so much. But then, rather intrusively, he wonders how many times those soft-looking lips have been on Azul, wrapped around him, sending him to cloud nine… “I actually asked Azul to translate it for me. He said all of it was written correctly. You must be very adept in your Italian.”

“I… I suppose I am,” he answers after a tense minute.

His brain is swirling like sediment stirred up on the ocean floor. When did I pick up Italian? I’m not taking any language courses this semester. I don’t even own an Italian dictionary… Just what in the world is happening?

“Ah, you don’t have to look so pale! It’s not going to affect your grade. I only wanted to fulfill this nagging curiosity of mine. Thank you for all the good work you do.”

Riddle nods mechanically. When you ask if he has time to stick around and discuss more psychology podcasts, he shakes his head and mumbles a feeble excuse.

He tears through his desk and all of the drawers in his room in search of it. If it’s not there, he can relax. If it’s not there, he can chalk it up to stress. If it’s not there—

It’s tucked away in his bookshelf. A little pocket dictionary. English to Italian. And it’s been bookmarked and annotated.

Riddle pulls it from the shelf in a baffled daze. When did he get his hands on this? More importantly, when did he read through it? In a hurry, he empties the contents of his backpack and flips a few pages in his notebook.

His notes from class. Dated for today. Written in Azul’s script. And at the top of the page, an exact copy of his signature, a name that isn’t Riddle’s: Azul Ashengrotto.

Riddle peers at his trembling hands. He flexes his fingers, curls them into a fist and then unfurls them.

He seizes his psychology textbook next and skims the chapter index in search of an answer. He lands on it. Page 371. Dissociation.

Two minutes into a phone call with Trey, he’s asked a simple question: “Are you speaking with an accent?”

Riddle bristles. “Of course I’m not. Of…course I am not,” he says, sounding the words out. His brow furrows. Why does my tongue feel so clumsy in my mouth? “I’ve always spoken this way, have I not?”

“I can’t say. I mean, come on, Riddle. You’ve gotta be pulling my leg.”

“You know very well I don’t pull legs, Trey.”

“You told me buongiorno when I picked up.”

“I did not!” he snaps, scandalized. “I said good morning as I always do.” And then he pauses. “I… I did say good morning, didn’t I?”

Trey’s silence is answer enough.

Riddle sucks in a sharp breath. Neither of them says anything.

Eventually, Trey speaks. “Do you want me to come up there? I could bring you a tart or…something. You sound…tired.” He chooses his words carefully. “Silly question, I know, but I’ve gotta ask. You’re not overworking yourself?”

“No, not at all.”

“And you’re getting enough sleep? What about food?”

Riddle frowns even though Trey isn’t there to see it. “I’m fine, Trey. Midterms are coming up. I’ve got to focus. I refuse to fail.”

Again, the other end is quiet. A minute later, Trey says, “Do you have time this weekend?”

“This weekend?” Riddle flips his planner open to this week. “I do.”

“All right. Is it cool if I visit?”

Riddle almost declines, so it surprises both him and Trey when he replies with, “Please.”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, and the call ends before Riddle can say grazie.

Trey brings six strawberry tarts. Riddle shares three with him over tea at the campus café.

“So what’s up?” Trey points his fork at Riddle. “You sound like yourself, but you don’t seem…fine.”

Riddle chews thoughtfully. He can’t confide in Trey because Trey wouldn’t understand. Because he’d apply Trey Logic to everything, and Trey Logic is almost always sensible. Riddle doesn’t want to hear it.

“I submitted an assignment in Italian,” he says instead, casually, as if it’s not a big deal.

Trey looks at him like he’s grown a third eye. “Since when do you know Italian?”

“I dabble.”

Trey laughs. Upon seeing Riddle’s serious expression, the humor sticks in his throat. “Oh, you meant that. Well. That’s…good then? If it’s for a foreign language course—”

“It was for psychology.”

“You…wrote in Italian…for a psychology assignment?” he reiterates, attempting to parse it. He drags his fork through his cut of tart, but he doesn’t bring it to his lips. “Why?”

“I couldn’t say. It perplexed me to no end when I realized it. My professor thought it was curious.”

“It is. I mean, you don’t find that just a little…unusual?”

Riddle stares at him over the rim of his teacup. 

Trey tries again. “Was the Italian correct, at least? It wasn’t all nonsense?”

He nods. “It was as if I was translating and switching between words. Like using the Italian word in place of an English word.”

“Huh…”

“It’s not very impressive. I can do much better than that.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities. I’m just…trying to understand why.”

Riddle smiles. “Why not? I think it’s very good to study another language. It opens more doors for opportunity, and it’s a challenge that proves rewarding in the end.”

“Is that it?”

“Precisely.”

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt there. Trey changes the subject. They chat the afternoon away.

Later, Riddle returns to his diary.

He writes an entire entry in perfect Italian. Workbooks pile up on his desk; he’s not sure when they got there. He’s filling them out so fast his hand gains new calluses. 

Azul visits your office around the same time Riddle used to. Now it’s Riddle who trails after him, hoping to catch him in the middle of a nefarious scheme. He’s not sure he’s ready for whatever he might learn, but he swallows his rage and carries on.

Azul turns just as Riddle ducks around the corner, perfectly out of sight. He waits until he hears the tell-tale click of those pristine Oxfords against linoleum before continuing. Azul walks right past your office and then he’s gone. Looking both ways, Riddle creeps further down the hall.

Where is he?

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whirls around, startled, and is about to unleash verbal tyranny when he stops short. You stand there, looking positively puzzled. 

“Are you looking for something, Riddle?”

“No… I—” He cuts himself off. “Actually, I was hoping I might discuss something with you. The final project.”

“Oh, of course! Did you come earlier? I stepped out of my office for a second. Sorry if my absence had you looking all over.”

Riddle falls into step with you. “It’s quite all right.”

He’s not sure what he hopes to find by sitting in front of your desk, gazing at the familiar interior of your office. He manages to get through all of the questions you ask him regarding the final project.

“I have too many ideas,” he lies, “and I’d like assistance in narrowing the topics down to one.”

He glances slyly at the floor. Would Azul be bold enough to hide a voice recorder or a camera somewhere? Or is there something of Azul’s left in here? A cheeky means of marking his territory, maybe?

Riddle turns up empty.

He stalls the conversation expertly for ten more minutes. During that time, he can’t locate anything from his semi-thorough observations.

Maybe it’s hidden in your desk. Maybe there’s nothing at all.

No. No, there has to be something.

He thanks you for your help and, shouldering his backpack, leaves.

Just as he turns down the hall, Azul steps into his path.

“Your mind is exceedingly, bewilderingly captivating.” He snickers like a devil. Riddle wants to punch him. “So many ideas. Where do you have the space for all of that?”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“Oh, is that so?” Azul taps at his phone and then turns the screen towards Riddle. There’s a picture of him in the hall, looking awfully disoriented. “It’s not very polite to stalk now, is it, amico?”

Riddle narrows his eyes. “How easily that accent comes. Almost like flipping a switch.”

“Non capisco.”

“You should know you’re going to ruin your life and Professor’s.”

“I’m not.” He smiles cryptically. “You’re going to ruin it for me.”

Fed up with his attempt at mind chess, Riddle stalks past him in a huff.

You walk into class five minutes late, disheveled and breathless. You’re babbling about a meeting that ran late, but Riddle can’t trust that.

Meetings don’t end in frazzled hair and crooked ties.

What’s even more damning, perhaps, is when Azul Never-Late-to-Class Ashengrotto walks in fifteen minutes after you. He sits in the seat beside Riddle. There’s not a hair out of place on his person. Except there is. The glass face of his luxury wristwatch is smudged with a fingerprint.

Riddle wonders what forensics would have to say about that.

He phases in and out of focus during the lecture. He can’t stop searching you for fine details. He can’t stop questioning Azul’s presence beside him.

How dare you? he thinks. How dare you defile my professor? What makes you think you have the right to do such a thing when I’ve been working hard all this time? When I’ve been nothing but perfect…

He glances at his notebook. A single phrase has been scrawled over and over, so manically that the lines loop and overlap in angry criss-crosses. Lo voglio morto.

At the end of class, Riddle catches Azul in the hall.

“I would like to review with you for our upcoming midterm.”

“What an honor.”

Riddle hums. “Let’s compare our notes tonight. You can stop by my room after dinner.”

Azul grins like he can read through Riddle. Like he’s in on a joke Riddle’s not privy to.

“I would be happy to study alongside you,” he says, his accent thick.

Riddle imagines a rope around his neck. A rope of thorns and barbed wire, pressing into his jugular until, inevitably, it severs his head clean off.

Azul arrives on time. He really does feel like an echo of Riddle. Same school supplies. Same notebooks. Same fashion style. Same manner of writing.

Riddle shuts and locks the door behind him. He doesn’t waste time waltzing around the subject.

“You’re the reason Professor was late today.”

“You’re mistaken. I simply lost track of the time.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what is? I had nothing to do with Professor’s tardiness. If it bothers you so much, why not tell Professor to be more conscious of the time?”

Riddle grits his teeth. He’s sick of this. Sick of these mind games. Sick of all this mental chess.

Sick of the fact that he gets to have you when you should have been Riddle’s from the start!

“You’re a liar! Do you know the gravity of your actions—the severe consequences that’ll undoubtedly befall Professor? Do you know you’re jeopardizing a brilliant mind all for your own immature fun?”

Azul holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Those are harsh accusations. They could ruin my life, you know.”

“Oh, like that’s such an issue.” Riddle scowls.

“Your room is quite nice, I must say.” Azul looks around, his hands in his pockets. He spies the many Italian workbooks lining Riddle’s shelf, and a slimy smirk pulls at his lips. “Imitatore,” he marvels, his eyes bright with an eerie sort of joy. As if he’s just discovered a particularly filthy secret and can’t wait to tell someone.

“If it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

“And what makes you think Professor would ever entertain you?” Azul rounds on him, still smiling. “Professor loves me most. There was never any room for you.”

Riddle hears the distant crackle of something fraying. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? All I did was take your best characteristics and make them even better. Italian lovers are a romanticized ideal abroad. You were never an option, let alone a consideration.”

How dare you. How dare you. How dare you!

Azul steps towards the door. “Addio. Le mie condoglianze.”

That something inside Riddle finally snaps, and with it goes his restraint. He grabs Azul’s wrist and yanks him to the floor. There’s a struggle for survival. During the scuffle, Azul claws at Riddle’s arm and face. Riddle kicks him down. And then his fingers wrap around his psychology textbook—all 800-something pages, a hardcover—and he brings it down, brutal like a guillotine.

“How dare you walk away in the middle of a conversation!” he berates, lips curled in a monstrous sneer. “How dare you touch what isn’t yours—what you didn’t earn!”

He thinks he sees a real smile on Azul’s face, but in the midst of blind rage he can’t tell.

He sees red. He feels red. It splatters his room in a mess of broken bone and pulpy gore. It flecks his face, warm and thick and soupy.

It all ends with Intro to Psych.

Riddle is bathed in blue light, afloat on a chaotic sea.

Distantly, in the back of his mind, he can hear his mother in hysterics: What have you done?! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done—the future you’ve so carelessly thrown away?! All of my hard work?! Do you realize what you’ve done?!

And he does.

If there’s anything Riddle has ever been one-hundred-percent certain of in his life, it’s this. He sits on the steps to his dormitory, battered and bloodied, and bites into the strawberry tart clutched between crimson-stained fingers.

Despite the crisp autumn air, he feels warm.

An officer approaches him just as he’s licking his fingers clean of strawberry and blood.

He holds his arms out before the woman can say anything. He already knows what comes next.

Riddle has always wondered what criminals think and feel in the aftermath of grisly crimes. He can’t feel much of anything other than hollow relief. Maybe that’s just the adrenaline snuffing logical thought and remorse. He thinks everything and nothing all at once. He’s sure he’ll feel it all come crashing down when he’s sat in the station for questioning and then the reality of his actions will seep in, awakening him from a vile, murderous dream.

Right now, he isn’t concerned with that.

You lived filthy and you died just the same, Riddle thinks as he’s led to a police car. And now there’s no part of you Professor will ever want.

[smutallyouwant]

Twice Fic World ch.2

Strawberry Picking 🍓

80% Smut, but still have a good storyline.

Mina x Surprise Member x M Reader

A sequel to Night Club Darkness

Word count: approx. 1.9k words

Summary: Mina approached you again inside the office, and she invited you over to have some more strawberries.

Ps. This contains much aggressive stuffs than it's prequel 🔥

You woke up early today because it is Monday. You quickly prepared to go to work, and you can't wait to see Mina again. After what happened to you two, you can't take her off your mind. But there's really no communication between you and her after all of that. Just some glances and smiles, it is not an awkward smile, just a friendly smile. But you made some small talks to her in office during breaks or whenever you meet her in the office.

You arrived in the office and started to go at your block. You opened your desktop to finish the presentation due for next week.

After and hour your boss, Jihyo arrived and she told you to go with her inside her office.

" How's your presentation? " she asked in English and in her usual foreign accent.

" It is going well ma'am, actually it is faster than expected. I can finish it today and I can email it to you for your approval " you answered in Korean.

" Oh, sorry you prefer to talk in Korean. Well then " she switched into Korean.

" Make sure that your presentation will be approved by the board. We are going to Tokyo, Japan next week so be prepared "

" Yes ma'am, I assure you that we got this already in the bag " you answered.

" Quite confident, I like it. Oh well, you can now go back to your work. Thank you Y/N " she said while looking at you with a glaring smile.

You never felt awkward before while talking to your boss, but that smile and the " Thank you Y/N " that she said sent shivers to your spine. Just as you recover from the cold, you were surprised by someone pulling your wrist to the side.

Turns out it is Mina, in her cute clothes and short brown skirt. She pulled you over with a cute smile, and your nervousness was replaced with comfort.

" Hey Y/N, are you busy right now? " she excitedly asked.

" Not really, I just have one presentation to cover later " you answered.

" Will you hang with me for a bit inside ? " she asked while pointing to the office behind her.

It is a new office that is still not functional and covered with unfinished mess for construction. It is meant for a new department for the company.

" Sure, we never got a chance to hang up since last time "

After the door closed, you sat in a sofa and she sat on top of you. You instinctively hugged her from behind.

" Ohhh " she giggled as you hugged her.

" You know I can't get you off my mind, I tried to just ignore you last few days but I can't resist " she added.

" I thought I'm the only one who felt that way" you said before puting your hands on her face and pulling her so she can turn around.

She looked into your face with a grin. You hold her neck with your left arm and your other arm explores her wonderful body as you two began making out. Both of you fought for dominance and your tounge discovered every inch of her mouth. She bit your lips and started to take off your shirt. She kisses her neck and you shoved off her blue blazer and put you hands in her bare back from under her arms while you enjoys her tounge painting into your neck and shoulders. You feel your bulge growing fast, she stoo kissing your neck.

" Which nipple is much more sensitive? " she asked.

You mumbled for second because you're confused, but knowing that your left nipple is much more sensitive than the right one you didn't answer her. Instead, you grab her head and put her lips into your left nipples. He quickly gave it a huge lick and she sucked it wonderfully. You left arm began to fondle her breast and the other cupped her ass cheeks. You felt heaven as she removed your pants and gave you a handjob while still sucking your nipple. When you're pleasuring yourself you're playing with your nipple too for additional pleasure. So what Mina is doing had remained your biggest fantasy until now. You can't hide your moans from her

*slurp ~ slurp ~

" You love this baby Y/N? " she said while looking at you seductively.

" Yes baby I love it " you answered.

" No, you're my baby "

" For me both of them are sensitive, so please give them both your attention " she said while pulling her top down and fed her perky tits to your mouth.

You sucked her tit while playing with the other and you made sure to give both your equal attention. You did your best to suck them equally. While you're sucking your shaft felt wet, and you saw Mina lining her pussy into your shaft. She removed her underwear and began to ride you.

She rides you in her pace while you are making out. It stayed like that for few minutes before she came.

" Ahhh~~ baby your cock is the best " she said while she is cumming.

" ahhh ~ " she kept moaning until she can't.

She laid on you like a doll, just like that night when she fucked your cock in a dark side of the night club.

You're not done yet, so you lift her up into the wall and rammed her.

" Ahhhh~~~ fuckkk yess babyy! " she moaned almost shouting. So you muffled her with your mouth.

She wrapped her arms into you and started biting your shoulder as she reaches climax again.

" mmmhhh, ohhhh ~~ " she can't avoid slipping some moans while still biting you.

She stopped biting you when you told her you're cumming

" I'm cumming, baby let me just put you dow..."

She wrapped her legs into your waist and she whispered to your ear.

" Come inside me baby, I love your cum inside me " she whispered before liking your earlobes.

The licks sent shivers and her words made you 10 times hornier causing your cum to burst inside her pussy.

" Ahh~~ yes baby, that's it fill me with your cum mhhh~~~ " she moaned while you're cum is still pumping inside her.

You laid into the sofa while she's still on top and you made out for a minute before she stood up and began to clean the mess with some wet wipes.

" Your cum is slipping into my legs Y/N "

she said with a seductive smile.

She gave you a peck in your chicks before going out the office and straight to the comfort room. You waited for a while before leaving.

When you opened the door, you saw a dressed up new girl into the hallway. She's new so you greeted her.

" Hey what's up " you said while smiling.

" Hey " she continued to walk and did not even bothered to smile. She just looked at you like nothing.

" Who the heck was that? " you said inside your head.

You headed back to your block and you went back to finishing your presentation.

" Whoo! What a long day " you said while yawning.

It's already 6:21 pm and you quickly sent the presentation to boss Jihyo for her critiquing. You packed your things and went to the parking lot. As you open your car door you received a message from an anonymous number.

_________________________________________

:Hey Y/N it's me, Mina. Would you like to come over to my apartment for some more strawberries?

:Oh hi Mina, I'm pretty tired but a dinner would make it up. Btw how did you get my number?

:Okay Y/N I'll cook dinner for us don't worry :) and I got your number while you're deep asleep on your bed last time. Lol.

:Oh😂

:Send me your address.

:Homersan St. Block 342, apartment 301.

: I'll be on my way

:🍓🍓

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

You drove back to your home first to take a cold shower. You dressed cozily with a white top and a black night pants. You drove to her apartment and knocked on the door. No one is responding, you tried texting her but she is not responding.

After few tries , you called her and you heard her phone ringing from the inside. You're starting to feel anxious and over thought what happened to her inside. You reached the door knob and it is not locked so you quickly opened the door and rushed towards the phone. It is on a desk from the front of the television. You picked it up and stopped the ringing. You saw a glimpse of light from a room. It is dark in the living room so the light from the semi-opened door of a room beamed through the floor. You took a peak only to see two cuties lying besides each other.

Mina didn't even changed clothes, and lying besides her is a cute one too. You took a gulp and you came inside the room.

" Hey Mina, I'm here" you whispered while knocking the door.

Mina opened her eyes slowly.

" Oh hey Y/N " she answered while she sit up into the bed.

" Why are you so late? "

" Sorry I was caught in the traffic" you answered.

" Come, let's have dinner "

" Hey Chae, wake up Y/N is here already let's take our dinner " she said.

Chae sit up to the bed and looked at you

" Hey Y/N, you're so late that we got sleepy. No worries though " she said while looking into you with a smile.

Mina led you to the dining table and she reheated the pork stew that Chae cooked earlier. As Mina is preparing the table she introduced you to Chae.

" Y/N this is Chaeyoung, my girlfriend" she said.

What the freaking fuck. She have a girlfriend?????

" Hi Chaeyoung, nice to meet you " you said awkwardly while looking to Mina.

Mina almost laughed and said

" Y/N don't worry she knows. She's the one that insisted me to go to the night club that night to experience real dick " she said while looking both to you and Chaeyoung.

You're surprised as to how casual her tone is. It's like she and Chaeyoung always having conversations like this. No words came out to your mouth.

" Y/N she told me everything, just like how you like strawberries? Her scent? That's mine lol " she giggled with a smile.

" That's my perfume and maybe I taste better than Mina " she said while smiling at Mina.

" Nahhhh, I'm tasty than you are you said it yourself "

" We'll find out later " Chaeyoung answered before smiling a little.

You started eating and Chaeyoung questions casual things like what's your age, work, educational background etc.

" I'm a bisexual I have tasted dicks too but my girlfriend did not try to have dick inside her. So I insisted her to try. "

You just smiled to what Chaeyoung have said and Mina is looking at you seductively.

" She's used to toys so she's not totally virgin, but for dicks? I know she'll need it "

Chaeyoung stated.

" Turns out you're right baby " Mina answered.

" I was longing for dick too, hey Y/N let's have a threesome with my girlfriend " she declared.

The moment you heard that it's just like a blink of an eye, you just found yourself on their bed without your shirt and your pants and underwear down. You and Chaeyoung is making out while Mina sucks your dick. Chaeyoung is wearing a shorts without underwear and a loose oversized shirt that reveals the straps of her bra. Your making out so intense that you can taste the pork stew from her saliva.

" mmmh ~ mmmh ~ " mild moans came out the three of you.

Chaeyoung broke the kiss and started kissing your neck. You focused on Mina that is giving her best at sucking your dick. You gently pats her head. But Chaeyoung pushed her head to your shaft. Mina gagged and pulled out her mouth.

" Gahh! Ahhwilpsmmanw " she mumbled, a tear flowed on her left cheek.

" Go on baby, I'll teach you how to deep throat a dick " Chaeyoung said before giving a sloppy kiss to Mina.

You enjoyed the scenery of two hot chicks making out in front of you. Chaeyoung holds your dick and she held Mina's mouth so she can spit in it. She spits three times inside Mina's mouth and you felt the pleasure that Mina is showing.

" Suck his dick " Chaeyoung ordered Mina.

As soon her lip touched your tip, Chaeyoung slowly pushed Mina's head to your dick. And as your dick touched the back of her troat Mina started tearing and her eye liner is a mess and it's so hot of a scene that you placed your palm into her cheek for appreciation. Chaeyoung stayed her in that position for 3 seconds before releasing Mina, Mina then started to suck you off as soon as she catches her breath.

" Good girl, that's my baby. Suck his dick more " Chaeyoung said before pushing Mina's head again.

" Go hold her head " she ordered you to both out your hands to hold still Mina's head .

She proceeded to push Mina forcing her to take all of your dick into her throat.

" Golk, golk, golk, " her throat released sounds as Chaeyoung didn't stop.

" Yes, good girl " Chaeyoung said before letting Mina go.

Mina's face is a mess, and she almost throw up after that. Chaeyoung hugged her while patting her head.

" What a good girl you are, I love you baby" She said.

" I wuv yu " struggling to say a word, Mina answered with a smile.

Chaeyoung puts Mina off the bed and she sits her against the bed's corner.

" Hey Y/N come here " she ordered

She hold Mina's face and spits in her mouth.

" Ahh~~~ yes give me more " Mina seductively moaned.

" Hey Y/N help me, spit inside her mouth too" she said .

The idea of spitting inside Mina's mouth is so hot that you started spitting too. You opened your mouth and let's your saliva flows into Mina's tounge as she smiled seductively while looking at you.

" That's enough" Chaeyoung said.

Chaeyoung held Mina's head and looked to you while you're standing.

" Open your mouth and show your tounge baby" Chaeyoung said to Mina before giving her cheeks a peck of kiss.

" Fuck her throat" Chaeyoung ordered you.

You hold onto the bed's corner wood for support and started thrusting into Mina's throat.

" Ahhh fuck your throat is so good Mina " you moaned.

*golk

*golk

*golk

Mina smiled while her head bounces as you fuck her mouth. Chaeyoung is looking into your eye while you ram, it causes you to be much more turned on.

Chaeyoung's sight switched into your dick. She is amazed of how you're fucking Mina's mouth. She is biting her lips and gently plays her tits.

" Hey Y/N fuck my throat too " Chaeyoung said while pointing inside her mouth showing her tounge.

Without a thought, you pulled your dick and Mina's catched her breath. You pulled into Chaeyoung's hair and stuffed her mouth with your dick.

" Take this you slut" you said.

Chaeyoung smiled slightly as you ram her throat.

You're much more aggressive into fucking her mouth because you're kinda pissed that she forces Mina to do deep throat. But it's nothing to her. She even wraps her arms into your legs and followed your rythm with her jamming her head into your shaft. You can see her perky cleavage up there causing you to be much more horny. The sight of her bra straps falling off made you hornier.

*golk *golk *golk

Chaeyoung's releases slight moans while her throat gagged. Chaeyoung's a beast, you realized that as you feel your dick slipping through her esophagus slightly and it feels so fucking good that you're about to cum.

" You fucking slut, your I'll fuck your throat all day " you said

She just looked at you and smiled.

" You want to be a good girl? " you said seductively.

She nods her head while keeping eye contact.

" Then swallow my cum you bitch, slut " you said while moaning.

You came inside her and the pump of your cum goes straight down to her stomach. You hold her head a little more before letting go. She sucked you off to clean your shaft and she confidently showed her mouth that not inch of a cum remains.

You found Mina sleeping on to the bed. You gently tucked her into the bed and gave her a little kiss.

" Hey Y/N let's fuck " Chaeyoung said while her finger is on her lips. She striped all of her clothes and looked at you hungrily.

You and Chaeyoung fucked besides Mina while she's sleeping. You rammed Chaeyoung's pussy missionary style and your moans filled the air.

" Ahhh~~~ , fuck, yes Y/N "

" Fuck me more "

" Ahh~~ ahh~~ "

*Bed screeching

It's more of like Chaeyoung fucking you, as she's much more hungry for it. You fucked her in dogstyle and while she's on top of you. And on that night you came inside her twice.

You laid on their bed between Mina and Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung ended up fucking you once more, after she woke up in the middle of her sleep.

When the morning came, you found Mina out of the bed. You quickly stood up and put some clothes. You saw Mina at the dinner table and she's preparing breakfast.

" Hey Y/N thank you for coming, I hope that we can hang out like this again soon " she said.

" Yes, thank you too " you answered before pulling her for a quick makeout session.

" Sorry Mina I have to go, you know we have to go for work again" you giggled.

" Yes I packed breakfast for you though " she answered before handing the bento box over.

" Thanks again Mina, please say my regards to your girlfriend, I'll be going now " you said.

" Yes Y/N, goodbye "

You' re driving back to your home you're so tired because of what happened but you had a great sleep that you are energized today. Maybe Mina's smile is all that there is that energizes you. You wondered what was inside the bento box. You opened it while the light are red and a pancake toped with butter and maple syrup catched your eyes. Inside the other one is some strawberries sprinkled with powdered sugar.

--------------------THE END-----------------

Thank you for the support on my first ever smut everyone ( ꈍᴗꈍ).

Here's the sequel to that story. I hope you like it.

I'm expecting this story to have another sequel so please stay tuned.

Prequel story:

[raggedytiger]

ragatha/agatha and pomni/penny human hcs!

(r)agatha:

is an english teacher!

yes she still loves horses. she used to ride them, & she loves old western movies.

owns cowboy hat and boots.

analytical and loves long & winding conversations.

has a very happy cat named sandwich.

patches her own clothes, doesn't have kids but if she did she would embroider their names into their belongings.

she still plays cello, she loves music in general, probably sings like an angel.

can't do any mathematics.

can drive, but like a lunatic. somehow has never had an accident though, so it's fine.

probably has a cute little baby blue/yellow car now, but definitely had a beat up offroader truck at some point that got put to good use. or maybe she still does, i'm not the boss.

total lesbian, a bit of a heartbreaker but not intentionally (women just keep falling for her)

goes to town/neighbourhood/community meetings. likely is/was in a knitting circle

absurd number of quilts in her home

pomni/penny:

is an accountant as we know, and cannot cook for shit as we know.

no pets she can barely take herself for walks. is more similar to a cat, but had a dog growing up. would love a collie or a dalmatian probably.

would name the dog something stupid like Thermometer Johnson.

she can drive, but nervously.

really quick thinker, like impressively, unless she's under HUGE amounts of stress. is literally always thinking at 100mph.

no sense of interior decor or personal style. all practical, kind of butch. really does kill a suit.

very much lesbian but not fully to terms with it. probably had short-lived relationships with men in which she was 'content' but didn't really care for it. seeing agatha as agatha for the first time was probably a crazy punch to her little gay heart. not to mention the cowboy gear.

autistic

watches 90s anime to wind down

listens to every single genre of music. passes a lot of time with headphones in, slowly making her way thru the entire world's discography

owns no band merch or anything though she just listens

can't sleep without a fan on, thunderstorm 12hr audio, blackout curtains, weighted blanket, water nearby

does not sleep a lot

both of them (going to call them pomni and ragatha for convenience):

didn't immediately recognise one another. i havent got an exact idea of how they reunited after getting out, but there were tears.

bonded in a very rare and unique way - they got to revel in the newfound joys of real life again. they got to eat delicious food, go on long, unobstructed walks in the real sun, be warmed by it, chew on ice cubes and shiver at the pain, listen to each other's heartbeats, listen to real music, read real books, smell soaps and flowers and sauces. they went to the supermarket together and read all the labels, and bought one of each type of fruit to try between them, and smelled all the candles, and touched all the blankets. spent a lot of time holding hands and kissing and i'm sorry to say, probably having sex, because holy shit, i'm real, you're real, we're real

now live together in ragatha's apartment, after pomni moved out of her small and confusingly-furnished flat.

both of them feel inadequate from time to time. this is resolved by a stern-but-loving talking-to.

sandwich likes pomni very much. pomni doesn't really get cats, but loves sandwich a great deal, and enjoys letting her sleep on her lap.

ragatha is very pleased to see her girls getting along.

ragatha cooks, pomni chops the veg. she often doesn't fuck it up

pomni cleans a lot as a 'thank you for letting me live here, i love you'. she's very much acts of service, ragatha is words & physical touch <3

they watch a lot of movies together. depending on how long they've been stuck, they might have culture to catch up on

ragatha wants to have a house with a garden one day. pomni starts germinating seeds from their fruit & veg like a weird science experiment. ragatha is delighted when she is presented with a baby tomato plant.

clothes are shared. ragatha's are bigger, but most of pomni's are ill-fitting anyway so it can go both ways. ragatha likes to dress pomni up in different outfits and have her do a little fashion show. pomni pretends not to savour the confidence boost.

pomni starts sleeping more

[itsjunear]

Shadows and Whispers

Note: Hello loves! I'll try to be more active and post more often, maybe once a week (this is my proof that I'm trying 😀). It's really been a long week for me, but I truly appreciate and I'm so happy for the support the previous post received. I'm very grateful for the likes, reblogs, and comments 💙💙💙 I'm not sure if I should make a second part of that one, but in the meantime, here's this. I hope you enjoy it, and sorry if it's a mess! Again, remember that English is not my first language, but if there are any mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know! I’m leaving the song I wrote this with, the slow version sounds really good :)

P.S.: I’m not really sure if this would work in ACOTAR, but I don’t know, I just liked the idea.

Words: +1k

Warnings: none, slight mention of tension

Summary: Reader and Azriel are sent on an undercover mission where they must pretend to be a couple. Reader has unresolved feelings, and the closeness with the shadowsinger leaves her confused.

The Mother definitely had a twisted sense of humor.

I was certain that in this life, I was paying for each and every bad thing I had done in my previous ones. If not, what would be the point of all this?

I had to suppress the complaint lodged in my throat ever since I had left the meeting with Rhys and he had communicated his plans for the Autumn Court.

Why? Why did these things always happen to me?

I could have gone with Cassian, Mor, or even Amren. I wouldn’t have had any issue pretending to be the lover of one of them. But of course, I had to go and pretend with Azriel.

Rhys had received a formal invitation to a ball in the Autumn Court, but decided to send us instead to investigate the political situation surrounding that entire red-haired family and how the stir was being perceived by the court’s nobles. Evidently, we were supposed to look as distracted as possible to catch any murmurs here and there, and the simplest way to do that was by pretending we were simply there to enjoy the evening as a couple in love.

Fantastic, I thought.

"I try to respect your privacy and not intrude on your thoughts" I heard Rhys’s voice in my head "but the way you’re shouting them, I could hear them even from the scraps of the Spring Court."

I grimaced but didn’t respond, letting the anger fill my mind so that he could feel it.

"Why are you so… irritated?" I heard him ask with genuine curiosity, and I sighed.

Rhys could dig just a little and find the reason, but he would never dare. Not without my permission.

"What do you care" I barked mentally, sulking.

I’d apologize later for speaking to my High Lord like that, but right now, I could feel the smoke coming out of my ears, and I guessed he could too because a laugh echoed in my mind before it simply vanished.

"Idiot" was the last thing I thought before raising my mental walls and reinforcing them with everything I had.

By the Cauldron, what was the problem? Well, for starters, I wasn’t in love with Cassian or Mor.

Hell, I had even suggested going with Amren to avoid going through this. Going undercover with Cassian was impossible—Nesta’s scent was all over him, and it wasn’t a secret that he had a mate. Mor was in the Winter Court visiting Viviane, and Amren… well, she was busy with Varian.

So that only left the shadowsinger and me free. Plus, neither of us was involved with anyone publicly, so we were the perfect candidates.

This time I didn’t suppress the groan of exasperation as I headed to my own room in the House of the River. I missed the company of the House of Wind, but now that Cassian and Nesta were there, it was impossible for me to stay—for the sake of my mental health, I fled that place. So I sighed and nearly cried when I reached my bed, bracing myself and trying to find the strength to endure what would happen in a few days.

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

Two nights had passed. Two damned nights sleeping like shit, practicing a mask of indifference and composure that I clearly didn’t feel.

I had also been more sensitive than usual, so I tried to avoid everyone, including Azriel. However, I saw Cassian every morning at training, and although I felt him casting strange glances at me, anticipating my mood, he didn’t ask about it. For that, I was grateful.

In a few hours, Azriel and I would be on our way to the Autumn Court, and I was just trying to control my breathing to avoid panicking. Even now, my hands were shaking so much I couldn’t fasten the endless buttons on the back of the pretty midnight blue dress, adorned with some crystals at the top and quite fitted from the waist down. Courtesy of Rhys.

A knock on the door distracted me from the mission, and holding the top of the dress to my chest, I opened it to come face to face with the man I had been avoiding with all my might.

I had to restrain myself from shrinking away upon seeing him in all his glory—not dressed in Illyrian leathers, but in a formal suit the same color as my dress, fitted in all the right places that made him look out of this world. If you added the large wings behind his back, the stoic hazel gaze, and the tendrils of shadows that surrounded him, giving him a mysterious and irresistible air… My breath faltered a bit.

He scanned me from head to toe as well, and the shiver that ran through me was completely involuntary. His gaze burned, but I did nothing to break the silence in which we were immersed.

"You look… beautiful" he finally said, hesitating a bit.

I swallowed hard and looked away, unsure of how to act. I had never been shy about receiving compliments, but when they came from him, they managed to destabilize me.

"Thanks" I whispered "You look great too."

Azriel nodded, and I saw his eyes drift to my chest, right where my hands were holding the dress.

"I need help with the buttons" I said in a tired tone.

He nodded again and entered my room, closing the door slowly. His shadows roamed freely, and I felt one of them caress my braided hair, making me smile.

"Sorry" Azriel apologized as he gestured for me to turn around.

I shook my head.

"I like them" I replied with a smile that died the moment I felt his fingers touch the exposed skin of my back.

"And they like you" he answered in his usual calm tone.

I didn’t respond, fearing my voice would tremble, and I focused on avoiding my skin from tingling wherever his touched. I even resorted to thinking about the painful blows to the stomach that Cassian gave during training when Azriel’s hands brushed dangerously low on my back.

I knew he also noticed the tension by the way his wings were tucked, but he didn’t say anything. Finally, I released the breath I had been holding once he finished and he removed his hands, though a strange sense of loss invaded me. Nevertheless, I ignored it.

A moment later, I turned around and faced him, tilting my head back to meet his eyes now that we were so close.

"Rhys told me you had certain… reservations about this" he broke the silence, looking at me with a calm expression.

Of course, he had told him.

I almost scoffed.

I opened my mouth to respond, but he interrupted me.

"We won’t do anything you haven’t consented to or that makes you uncomfortable"

I frowned.

"Of course I know that, Az. It’s just that I doubt this will work" I responded, smoothing out my dress a little.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Though that wasn’t the main reason. It all boiled down to the fact that doing this with him made me nervous.

"It will" he reassured me. "Rhys and I have evaluated all the scenarios. We are the most credible for this plan. Just trust me"

I nodded, though I couldn’t shake the slight anxiety of having him so close.

The shadow from before wrapped around my arm, making me smile again. Even though the touch was cold, it didn’t feel strange, so I didn’t fear playing with it with one of my fingers, not realizing I was practically brushing Azriel’s wing membrane until I noticed his shiver and the way his breath escaped him. I quickly pulled my hand away and looked at him only to find him with his eyes shut and the rest of his shadows slightly agitated.

"I’m sorry, Az" I apologized. "I’m so sorry"

I knew how reserved the Illyrians were about their wings and how they shouldn’t be touched, so his silence only increased the unease brewing inside me.

"It’s fine" he replied slowly after a moment. "It’s nothing" but I could see him swallowing hard.

I bit the inside of my cheek but said nothing more.

"We should go now" he spoke after a moment.

I nodded and took one of his hands, preparing to pretend I was in love with him, according to that stupid plan. When in reality, I would stop pretending I wasn't, for a moment.

That was what terrified me—letting my feelings out and not being able to hide them again after tonight.

But there was no turning back now.

"Ready?"

No.

"Yes" I responded with the steadiest tone I could muster.

He gave me a deep look before I felt the shadows envelop us, and soon the room lit up, leaving us at the entrance of the grand hall of the Autumn Court.

Then, I let go of one of his hands and gently brought it to his cheek, trying to convey my intentions. He held my gaze for a second before bending obediently, giving me the opportunity to leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

The sensations exploded inside me, but I held back. This was a mission, I reminded myself. So why did his hand immediately curve around my waist?

This is just a mission, I repeated.

I pulled away a moment later, smiling softly at him. Before we both straightened up.

I supposed we had made it quite clear that we were together by kissing in front of all these people. I made sure to do it at the entrance so everyone would see, and I guessed Az understood too by the slight squeeze he gave my hand.

I looked at him one last time, letting a bit of my love for him escape. And then I turned towards the crowd, with a bright smile.

All right, the game had begun.

List of tags: @favsrachz @kennedy-brooke @rafeecameronsbitch @cleverzonkwombatsludge @latinxbipride @highladyofhogawarts @mp-littlebit @andreperez11 @rcarbo1 @janebirkln @olive-main @sillyfreakfanparty @clementine111002 @thoughtdaughtersworld @blessthepizzaman @littleblackcatinwonderland @sizzlingstarlightsky @historygeekqueen @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife

Let me know if you want to be added to the list of tags!

[snoopyliker]

Here’s a translation of what Bagi said at the end of her stream.

Bagi: I really wanted to say that QSMP was an opportunity I’ve never had before in my life. Because I impeded myself from taking those opportunities, in the sense of communicating with other creators from countries. When I was a kid I learned and practiced a little bit of English but I never practiced after leaving school because I never had the opportunity and I ended up accepting that I’d never go back to speaking in English because I didn’t practice and if I needed to do it then I’d be shit because I wouldn’t be able to communicate. So when Cellbit spoke to me saying, “Look we really want you to participate in QSMP with us.” I said, “Dude, my communication with people from other countries is going to be very difficult.” And there he said, “You don’t need to worry the translator works really well.” And honestly the translator worked really well because it allowed me to not just communicate with people from various countries, in my own native language, but also allowed me to learn words & terms in other languages.

And I think that I learned a lot culturally speaking because various people from various countries could share their cultures. Which to me is something that is more valuable than anything else. We consume a lot from our own culture and what we see on TV but actually co existing with people from different cultures every day for various hours a day was very cool for learning many new things. I think that QSMP was an experience that wasn’t just very fun but for me, as a player, was an experience that changed my life. Because now I have friends from various parts of the world, I have various people who I met personally who I love, and various more that I still want to meet and be able to do many things together. We lived many cool moments and even if they were characters we were playing, as if they were small scripts we were playing, even then we still lived emotions that were very real. We lived through suffering together, happiness together, and much more. We shared many cool emotions together and so that created a great relationship between the content creators.

From getting along and starting to directly interact on the server to, for instance, people accompanying me late nights while I dug a whole, that refers to the players as much as it does to the administrators as well who’d stay up late digging the hole and updating twitter, doing many things with me. When I only wanted to log on the server, do Lucky Ducks, dig my whole, there was always people to participate and do things with me. And so it was always a lot of fun and it was always people from various places. (…) Because I already knew Cellbit and Felps for a long time but getting close to Pac and Mike was very crazy and it was very fun. The entire experience was very fun. And that’s it.

I think what I’m most grateful for about the QSMP was all the people that connected us. All the people who participated and permitted us to create genuine connections during the game. Because it’s only a game but at the same time everyone who is participating are real people with real feelings who share real things, you know? So it was very cool. I met many fun people who were very cool to spend all this time with. Not just the creators but the team. Everyone. So it was very cool. Very cool.

And I think that the most important thing of all is that you live through experiences in your life with various people and experiences come and go but the mark you leave on people and the mark they leave on your life is permanent. And so experiences come and go, people come and go, but the mark people leave is permanent. The mark that all these creators, all the team, all the actors of QSMP as well, of the eggs, of the characters, left a permanent mark on me that I’ll never forget because it was very cool. I hope still to find the creators, live many fun things with them still, and that’s it. I think I’ve participated in many cool things, I’ve done many cool things in my career and QSMP definitely was one of them. I have many good memories created with the server and people who participated with me. It was very very very fun.

(Bagi also said she wants to have a chat with Elena one day to discuss what she said about the Rebels with Walter Bob there as well)

if i made any typos no i didnt goodbye.

[sunny44]

Chapter 1 (Love is in Mallorca series)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Fem!reader

Warnings: none I guess

Summary: Y/n goes to Mallorca intending to leave her life behind, at least for a while. Then she meets a mysterious guy who makes this trip, to say the least, unforgettable.

Mallorca was stunning, but a certain discomfort grew within me as the days passed. I found myself lost on an island whose beauty was undeniable, but whose language formed an insurmountable barrier.

Since I had arrived, it seemed that the fact that I only spoke English made me invisible. People looked at me in a hurry, or simply ignored my attempts at communication. Sometimes, I wondered if it was just my imagination or if it was really happening.

Tonight, after a long day of walking along the beaches, I decided I deserved a drink. The bar was crowded, full of laughter and conversations in Spanish. The smell of fresh seafood filled the air, and I approached the counter, trying not to seem out of place. I waited patiently for a while, watching as the bartenders moved from one customer to the next, ignoring me with an efficiency that almost seemed rehearsed.

I took a deep breath and approached the counter again.

“A gin and tonic, please?” I asked in English, my voice swallowed by the atmosphere.

The bartenders barely paid attention to me, glanced at me, and simply decided to ignore me.

I waited, hoping that somehow my order would be heard. I looked around, trying to decide whether it would be better to just give up, but before I could step away, I heard a deep, firm voice next to me, speaking in Spanish. I didn’t understand the words, but the tone was clear and authoritative, like someone used to being heard.

The bartender stopped what he was doing and quickly handed over what I had asked for. I turned, surprised, to face the owner of that voice.

He was tall, dark-haired, with slightly tousled hair, but in a purposefully relaxed way. His smile was easygoing, as if saving frustrated tourists was something he did every day.

“Here you go,” he said, with a soft accent, handing me the drink.

“Thank you,” I replied, accepting the glass. “I was beginning to think I was invisible.”

He laughed, a light and sincere sound, as if he understood exactly how I felt.

“It’s not that, but sometimes people here... can be a bit stubborn with those who don’t speak the language.”

I nodded, taking a sip of the drink that was finally in my hands. The refreshing taste of gin with lemon slid down my throat, bringing an immediate sense of relief.

“So, are you from here?” I asked, curious. “Your Spanish is perfect.”

“Thanks, and kind of. I live in Madrid, but my family has a house here in Mallorca. I always come here during summer holidays. And you, what brought you to the island?”

I looked at him, hesitating. He seemed so casual, so at ease, it was hard not to feel at ease as well.

“I actually just needed a break from my life. Something different.”

“You chose well. Mallorca is a perfect place to disconnect.”

He was right. The island was beautiful, and there was much more to explore than I could do on my own, especially with my limited Spanish. Maybe that’s what led me to accept when he suggested he’d show me a few places that, according to him, "no tourist guide would include."

“Shall we take a walk?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with a kind of enthusiasm that was impossible to ignore.

I agreed. After all, I had nothing to lose, and somehow, I felt like I could trust him. But I could also be completely wrong, and he could be a serial killer who would murder me and toss me into the sea.

But I was willing to take the risk.

We left the bar, walking through narrow streets lit by small lights hanging between old buildings. The night was warm and full of life. People laughed at outdoor restaurant tables, and the distant sound of flamenco music filled the air.

“You know, you're the first person who hasn’t tried to correct me or judge me for not speaking Spanish. I know it's annoying when tourists show up and don't even try to speak the language, but I didn't think I’d be completely ignored,” I commented as we walked.

“Sometimes it’s good to just listen and not judge, right?” He smiled, glancing around at the streets around us. “Speaking the language is important, but so is feeling welcomed, even without understanding everything.”

There was something different about walking with him, something that made the city seem more accessible, more inviting. He showed me a small square where there was a fountain with a soft, calming sound, and a local bakery that, according to him, made the best "ensaimada" on the island. Everything felt simpler by his side, no rush, no judgments.

“And you? What do you do for a living?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He smiled but didn’t answer directly, just shrugged.

“Ah, nothing too interesting. I have a pretty hectic life, but here I like to slow down and forget all about work.”

I respected his silence without pressing, and we continued to explore the city at night. He took me to a higher point, where the view of the city and the sea stretched out before us. The city lights reflected on the water, creating an almost surreal sight. I was speechless.

“Wow...” was all I could say.

He looked at me, smiling sideways.

“And they say Madrid has the best views in Spain.”

We stood there in silence for a few minutes, just absorbing the moment. I felt strangely comfortable next to him, as if he wasn’t a stranger I had just met, but someone I could share moments with without the need for explanations.

Finally, he looked at me again.

“If you want, I can show you more places tomorrow. But I promise I won’t take you where the tourists go.” I smiled, feeling a wave of gratitude. “I guarantee I’ll be the best tour guide you’ll ever meet.”

“I’d love that.” He nodded, satisfied.

“Perfect. See you tomorrow, then.”

“Deal.” I smiled.

“Give me your phone number.” He handed me his phone, and I typed it in, saving it as “bar girl.”

We said goodbye, and as I walked back to the hotel, I couldn’t stop thinking about how the night had taken such an unexpected turn. I still didn’t know his name. He hadn’t asked for mine, and somehow, that felt right. We weren’t strangers, but we weren’t acquaintances either. Just two people meeting on a warm night in Mallorca.

And maybe, just maybe, I was ready to find out more about him.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Summer break”

Masterlist: @lieslostinsilence @iloveallmyboys

@r4zberrygirl @hoya122 @sid-is-gr8

@runs-with-sciss0rs @marvel-ous-miss-maisie

@barcelonaloverf1life @harrysbigrighttoe

Next Chapter

The names with a line on top is because I couldn’t tag

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

SCREECHiNG

WAKE UP HON WE GOT NEW OFFICIAL ROLLO CONTENT (thanks to curekibouka for the translation!) 😭 (Bless him, he came home so quickly at only 40 rolls…)

***Rollo profile, Groovy, vignettes, and chibi spoilers below the cut!!***

As you can see in the card art shown above, it looks like his official English name will be "Rollo Flamme", not some other variation.

His coffin icon has a bell on it! Very fitting.

Yes, he’s triple fire magic and has a Duo with Grim.

… LMAO his Buddies are Malleus, Idia, and Azul 🤡

He's a third-year student at Noble Bell College, Student Council President, (but we already knew this) and 18 years old

His birthday is Feb 2nd! (There was a mistake in the initial launch of the Rollo card and profile in which his birthday was incorrectly stated as Feb 4th, which is Cater's birthday. Man was so mad when he realized he shared a birthday with a NRC boy so he redid his birth certificate/j)

(Here are screenshots of before and after the change; I happened to take a picture before the update:)

178 cm tall (LMAO I guess he doesn't meet a certain Ghost Bride’s standards)

Right-handed

Comes from the Shaftlands (again, we already knew this)

HE'S IN THE HAND BELL CLUB????? TF... HE JUST STANDS THERE AND RINGS HIS LITTLE HAND BELL????? ? ???? ?? ???

Best subject is Potionology

His hobby is cleaning malewife trait

He obviously hates magic 😂

Favorite food is not, in fact, croissants; it's actually grapes

Least favorite food is savarin, which is a ring-shaped cake soaked in flavored syrup and then garnished with cream and fruit

HIS SPECIAL SKILL IS GARDENING WHICH MADE ME LAUGH OUT LOUD... considering what he used that skill for... 🤡

His official description in the profile states that Rollo is admired by his classmates for his seriousness and no-nonsense attitude, but he also has a tendency to be… neurotic 💀 gee, ya think

His vignettes are set at NBC, not Night Raven College. They seem to be set prior to the events of Glorious Masquerade.

It's said that the reason he is at NRC now is because he is there temporarily to study.

We see Rollo going about his daily routine. He tends to the Bell of Salvation and the gargoyles early in the morning when the sky is still dark which probably explains the dark eyebags. He’s able to witness the sun rising as he does his cleaning. Rollo finds the dawn peaceful! and loves listening to the bell ring.

OMG the gargoyles are so excited when he pays attention to them 😭 They hop around like excited little puppies… NOT ROLLO WANTING TO GET RID OF THEM

Rollo also has his duties as a regular student. I believe he discusses grades with his vice president. He thinks his classmates are stupid 😂 and finds it ironic that these people look up to him and see him as a top student and a great magician…

Rollo eats his lunches alone because he finds people noisy. Bruh, he has 2 croissants, 16 grapes and 1 cup of cafe au lait (coffee with milk) for lunch every day of the year…

He shops in the City of Flowers and has a routine of buying a plain letter set, only all white paper and envelopes—even if there is a better deal on other sets. If Rollo is one thing (besides angry), he’s consistent and likes to stick to a routine and to things that are certain!

LMAO Rollo hates the City of Flowers because it’s flowers blossom because of magic ✨

Rollo runs into some trouble when a community goat wants to chomp on rhe letter set he bought in town 😂 He’s calm at first but then gets mad because he considers the goat unsanitary and it’s trying to eat his robes…

I want to stress that this boy is suppressing his rage and disgust the entire time 🤡 He’s trying so hard to pass as well-adjusted… Man’s literally going to send this goat flying but stops because he realizes there are too many witnesses…

At the end, Rollo writes a letter to his parents to let them know he is doing fine. Apparently, they’ve been worrying about him ever since “that” incident 😔 The letter reads as very formal and stiff, as though he’s writing to strangers. Maybe he has emotionally distanced himself from his parents (perhaps as a result of “that” incident), although he isn’t outright rude about it.

HIS LITTLE EVIL SMIRK... IT'S EVEN MORE FUNNY WHEN PAIRED WITH HIS VOICE BECAUSE IT'S SO SOFT AND CALM, THE KIND OF VOICE YOU'D NORMALLY HEAR IN LIKE AN ASMR VIDEO 😭

The fact that he writes with a feather quill instead of a magical pen………… ….. ….. … … . .. . … … . . . . .. . … .. . . .

Also the fact that he's by default in his big, bulky uniform with tons of extra material that would make it TERRIBLE for P.E. 💀 and has nothing else to change into... The last screenshot of the group above also looks like Sebek has leaned over to Rollo's ear to spread the GOOD WORD of WAKASAMA and Rollo is trying to do his very best to ignore him...

P.S. I want everyone to know that he does THIS whenever he has a Perfect in Magic History... ROLLO'S LITERALLY A CARTOON VILLAIN PLOTTING REVENGE AGAINST HIS CLASSMATES.... .. . .......... . .. . . . . . . . . . yes, I stuck him in a class with Malleus, Idia, and Azul :))

AND NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HIS GROOVY...

WHY DOES iT MAKE ME WANT TO BULLY HIM INTO THE DIRT 😭 jUST Lo0OKK AT HIM, HE'S tryING sO HaRD THAT I T HAS THE OPPOSITE INTEndeD EFFECT AND HE COMES oFF AS A MOREN SKRUNGLY L0SEr INSTEAqd 2reqrbhyygo13ogyt68p9egflbagj;jlg.DIHOBbyOFSYSvtdDOVFEILBcsnkmg2myoeqofadnm,vd..go0i424ph13nifIUSFVsofsgotfFIUOFOVUEWVOQEGYVbiypfpb OTL

I'M SO NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS, I'M SO NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL

I aM SO ASPoRRY fOR THE PERsON I Am AbOUT To BecOME 🤡

[everything-fine-n-peachy]

agree to disagree (z.cl)

pairings: zhong chenle x reader genre: high school angst summary: y/n thinks chenle has the biggest head on the planet (literally and figuratively) and chenle is a boy with a crush and a lot of issues to work through.

warning: slight mention of parental neglect and ensuing anxiety

You hated Chenle’s guts. 

There was just something about this boy that made your eyes roll every single time he was with you in the same room. You had to agree that there were perks to haveing someone as affluent as Chenle in your grade. The sponsorships from his family during school events meant that teachers were inevitably more lenient. But behind this so called generosity, you could clearly see the humble brag that he was. 

Everyone adored the fair skinned boy who liked to laugh obnoxiously loud with his friends who all wore rolex watches. There was an undeniable envy behind the thin veil of admiration that everyone seemed to have though. Except you, ya’ll stay safe. 

You knew it since day one of the 7th grade when the teacher announced elections for class officers a week prior. Elections that you intended to win. The next day Chenle showed up with a bag of lollipops for everyone, automatically securing him a win as president of the class while you lost with less than five votes to your name. 

It wasn’t to say that he did a lousy job. But he wasn’t going to silently work behind the scenes, no. He liked to make everyone aware of his status and wealth in the most subtle of ways. Free snacks whenever he felt like it, free entrance at the golfclub their family owned, and souvenirs for everyone from when he would go overseas with his grandparents. And you hated it. The feeling of being treated as a charity case. Like this boy thought he could buy everyone’s love. But not you. 

“I hope everyone enjoys the free handwash mom says they cost a lot,” he announced. You with the long French braid and mouth full of braces promptly had enough by then. 

You approach him with your irritation having reached it’s limit within your stature of four-feet-eleven. “If you’re always going to tell us how expensive everything is, then I think you should just shut up,” you spat, shoving the pink paper packing into his chest. You walk away with satisfaction as Chenle muttered crap about how it was from the tropical islands of whatever country you couldn’t pronounce. 

Your hate was was palpable across the entire grade for the next five years. Everyone knew that you and Chenle didn’t mix except maybe your 12th grade English teacher. 

“Class this is just for the first term. No one is being forced to sign a marriage certificate so I would appreciate if everyone cooperated with their partner,” Ms. Son commented as she flashed the list of pairs on the screen in front.

You visibly frowned, “you gotta be kidding me.” Jaemin, who sat next to you tried to contain his laughter upon realizing that you had in fact been paired-up with Chenle. Ms. Son eyes anyone who dared to complain before explaining the project. “I want each pair to pick a topic that you disagree on. For the next nine weeks I want you to come up with a presentation on how communication skills will help you understand a different perspective.” 

Murmurs fill the room. Some of your classmates are excited. Many are quite bored and just wish the bell would ring. You are downright fumming at Chenle’s audacity to wave at you from across the room when your eyes meet. 

On the first meeting you drag yourself into the library for the inevitable. Chenle lounges lazily on one of the bean bags, engrossed in his tablet. You drop your things on an empty table before clearing your throat. 

“I think the sooner we get this over with the better,” you say with a tight lipped expression. He agrees before standing up and joining you on the table. 

You notice him studying you and can’t help but fumble with your pencil and notebook. “Why are you looking at me?” 

“I just can’t figure out why you hate me so much,” he mutters more to himself than to you. 

“We’re here to discuss the assignment.” you pointedly respond before proceeding to go over some of the topics you wanted to tackle. As you’re reading off the list you notice Chenle’s eyes linger on you a few times. You find the way he can keep eye contact unsettling but you push on wanting the assignment to be over sooner rather than later. 

The good news was that you found plenty of topics that you disagree on. The bad news was that none of you could get through a conversation without picking a fight, well mostly you couldn’t get through a conversation without picking a fight. 

You mutually decide that Renjun would be present on your second meeting. You both think maybe a mediator would help you. But not even 30 minutes in and Renjun’s hands are rubbing his cheeks in frustration. 

 “Let’s take this from the top shall we?” He reiterates,” you need to listen to each other first. Stop trying to win over each other.” 

“I think there’s nothing wrong with using your connections to get farther in life, if I have an advantage why shouldn’t I use it?” Chenle states.  

“If said advatange is within your reach because of privileges that you have, shouldn’t that be regulated by policy?” You bite back. 

“They /are/ regulated by policy. Don’t companies have referals? Isn’t that even better since people are vouching for them?” 

At this point Renjun let out an exasperated sigh. None of you were listening to each other, let alone him. “Guys, the pont of this assignment is to hear both sides. I need you to find some common ground,” he exclaims earning some looks from other kids in the lounge. 

The two of you promptly stop arguing. Renjun sighs again, “you don’t actually disagree as much as you think.” 

You snort in response, “yeah and Chenle just needs to get his big head back to earth to see that not everyone has a rich family who can get them places.” 

“Why do you always act like that’s a bad thing?” Chenle retaliates. 

“It’s a bad thing when you keep trying to buy your way through life!” you yell. 

You visibly see Chenle shrink back into his chair. His face morphs into something you’re not sure of. Even you are a little surprised at yourself. 

Chenle presses his lips together. He laughs to himself before speaking, “well, I don’t know what to say to that. But I have taekwondo training in five, so …” 

You watch Chenle gather his stuff in silence. You stare hard at the blue metallic surface of the table long after Chenle is out the door. 

“That was pretty mean even by your standards,” Renjun said. “I get that he’s annoying but isn’t that a bit unfair considering you barely know him?” 

That night you stare up at the ceiling finding it hard to sleep. You toss and turn thinking about Chenle. You remember the boy who bragged about his thousand dollar drone, the boy who accidentally dumped his iphone in the pond and had a new one the next day, the boy who liked to tell people that money wasn’t a problem. 

Then you also remembered that he was the boy whose parents didn’t show up to any ribbon ceremony, the kid who constantly brought nannies instead of family to his school shows, and the only one who hadn’t received a personalized letter from his mom or dad during the senior retreat in 10th grade. 

You think you don’t really know Chenle as much as you’d like to think. Maybe you were the problem for allowing your 7th grade grudge get the best of you for the last five years. Maybe, you needed to give this project a chance by not sabotaging it nearly as much as you did. 

You’re nervous when the third meeting comes up. Words have been scarce between you and Chenle but you at least have the decency to set up another meeting at the library. You’re a few minute early but soon five minutes turned into ten and ten turned into twenty. You attempted to text your partner but to no avail, you try and look for him yourself. 

A few steps into the 12th grade corridor you hear shuffling in one of the rooms. Curious, you follow the sounds and find yourself face to face with Chenle who was in the process of pacing. You can’t help but notice that his hands shake a bit. 

“Go away,” he says. When you don’t follow his command, he let’s out a shaky breath and a tiny laugh before slumping against the wall. You stand and watch as he sinks to the ground. 

“You’re probably right. All I have going for me is my family and I can’t even please them. Can't win a medal, can't get on the merit list.” 

You find yourself sitting next to him, leaning your head against the wall. Not quite sure what to respond, you let him drawl on. 

“I don’t even like taekwondo,” he laughed to himself again. 

“Why do you do it then if you don’t like it?”

“It’s the only tournament my dad ever attends.” 

Your eyes look straight at the windows that offer a view of the sun setting beautifully in soft hues of pink and stark orange while you both bask in the misery of the moment. 

“I got into university today. The university that they wanted for me so badly.” 

“Do you want to go?” 

“No,” he chuckled, covering his face with his hands. 

“Then don’t go. You’re plenty smart I’m sure you’ll find a good university that you actually want to go to,” you reply turning your face to look at Chenle. 

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “My parents have already paid for the first semester.” 

There’s a long pause before Chenle speaks again. “I was thinking about what you said a couple of days ago. It kinda stung but it wasn’t something I heard for the first time.” 

You unconsciously shift your position, uneasy at how Chenle’s demeanor changed from the last time you spoke to him with Renjun at the students’ lounge. He seemed so vulnerable, cocky have-it-all attitude all gone. Instead, a very much exhausted Chenle seemed to take his place. 

“I don’t take any offense, don’t worry,” he assured you. “I just reaized for the first time that I actually let myself use my pain as an excuse. I parade this generational wealth around since that’s all it was ever good for.” 

You feel yourself soften at his confession. Not that he was totally forgiven but it was a start. “That still isn’t an excuse for me being mean to you for the longest time. I apologize,” you mutter, eyes looking ahead. 

“I guess we can call it even since I’ve been a jerk to you, too. Sorry bout that.” 

You turn only to realize that Chenle was already looking at you. He had always been looking at you except you never did notice. He liked the way your eyes reflected the pretty sunset. Even after five years, his crush on you hadn’t worn off. 

Truth be told, he pulled half the stunts he did to get your attention. Winning class president, giving away free strawberry hand soap because he had overheard that you liked the color pink, engaging you in arguments, and everything in between. 

He knew from when you didn’t back down from him during class elections. Since then he only found more reasons to reaffirm his feelings with everything you do. His heart would skip a beat when your bright voice fills a room when you talk about social injustice, the way you were so proud of your dad, a teacher on career day, or the way you earnestly listen to your friends when they have something to say. 

Chenle offers his hand, “to new beginnings?” 

“To new beginnings,” you replied. 

As you’re both standing up to leave you can’t help but feel the urge say something. “Chenle, about the university. I guess there won’t be any harm if you honestly tell your parents that you don’t want to go. Just a suggestion,” you offer with your palms raised. 

For the first time, you experience Chenle smiling at you. Like, really smiling at you. You aren’t particularly sure why but you notice the crinkle of his eyes and the lopsided curve of his lips and you can’t help but feel endeared. 

“Well, there’s that,” he says. “But I’m hungry. We should order pizza.” 

You nod in reply, “as long as you aren’t getting them with pineapples, I’m down.” 

Chenle’s eyes widen as he slowly lowers his phone, “you don’t like pineapples on pizza?” 

“They’re disgusting, no.” 

“But they bring out all the other flavors!” he exclaims. 

You smile at him while he continues to tap on his phone. As you walk down the corridor you think- no, you feel that something has changed and even if you wouldn’t want to admit it, you were glad that it did. 

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” you finally said, putting one foot in front of the other. 

[sgiandubh]

Hi! 

Fitness Anon here…

Just had to run a few errands this morning and there I spotted him - I will call him ‘local S’. Whoever he is, is not really important at all. It is about the perception - or the non-perception“ - of the  ‘rest of us’ towards him. 

He is an actor who lives in our neighborhood with his family - played leading roles in some TV series in the last 20 years and also plays theatre frequently. I think he has the same level of recognition C and S may have in Scotland. 

The first time after moving here I met him at the post office. But with a toddler and a crying baby in tow I did not recognize him immediately. A few weeks later a friend of mine (who grew up here) and I went to a park with our kids and  ‘local S’ jogged past us. I asked my friend if he was the one I thought he was. She looked a little bit confused at first and then said: Yes, and he is living here since a few years! Nothing else - no chatting, no gossip - nothing. And that hasn't changed to this day.

‘Local S’ lives here and is part of our community. None of us would think of taking a photo of him waiting in the line at the local bakery or anywhere else. And we certainly wouldn't post anything on social media about seeing or meeting him. None of us are impressed when we meet him or ask him for a selfie. It's also not a bad thing that none of us here are interested in 5 minutes of Instagram fame.

In the situations where I meet him, I never realise him as an actor and semi-famous. Because his every day appearance is completely different from his TV roles. In his most well-known TV role, he had to wear an unusual costume like Sam. So when you see hin in his normal attire, he looks totally different.  

I meet him in normal everyday situations, just as I do with many other people. This could be one of the reasons why we don't consider the ‘local S’ to be famous. Meeting him in a jogging suit, sweating and buying rolls has nothing glamorous at all. The other reason is probably that he doesn't appear to be recognised as someone famous. He lives a completely low-key everyday life. Sometimes he is featured in the relevant magazines to promote his TV roles. As far as I'm aware he hardly talks about his life at home there, only about his projects.

What I have just described probably also widely corresponds to Sam's (and C's) life in Scotland. They are known in their community and neighborhood. However, it is not considered that an appearance of them is a sensation. They are part of the everyday life there, just as ‘local S’ is part of my everyday life. And that is not glamorous or exciting - neither in Scotland nor anywhere else in Europe or in the world. That's why probably little or nothing is known about their everyday lives at all. 

Dear (returning) Fitness Anon,

EVERY SINGLE WORD OF WHAT YOU WROTE. And then, some more.

While living in Paris, I spotted (not necessarily in that order):

a) Kristin Scott Thomas, at the (now defunct) posh, Waitrose French wannabe, INNO supermarket, in Montparnasse. Her caddy chock-a- block full with Tŷ Nant Welsh spring water (very classy cobalt blue bottle and a novelty, in 1997). Now, The English Patient is easily in my top 5 movies. I chuckled in my Barbour and quickly busied myself with paying and getting out of that store ASAP. Everybody knew who she was - TEP's movie posters were all over town and in each and every métro station. Nobody flinched.

b) Daniel Auteuil, one of my favorite French actors. Formidable in Patrice Chéreau's La Reine Margot (and pretty much everything else), insane chemistry with the beautiful Isabelle Adjani. He was hailing a taxi, somewhere near Avenue de la Motte-Picquet, steps away from my flat, circa 2001. I grinned like an idiot and passed my way.

c) Catherine Deneuve, The Legend. I already wrote about it, a while ago. We were in line, at the movies, I (loudly) betted it was her and she smiled. That's all. And that is all it should be.

About my Greek experiences, I have written here, by the way: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/748463393458061312/im-interested-to-know-whether-you-came-to-enjoy?source=share . Even in a warm, expansive Southern European country nobody gave a flying duck, ever. Just humorously mentioned seeing them having coffee around town, while gossiping, Nothing more.

You'd have to be overly obsessed and/or really parochial to think people who live in the same neighborhood with actors, business tycoons or politicians would ever give a damn about it, every single time they spot those people somewhere.

[stayconnecteed]

🪐˓⠀˚⠀underwater rendezvous⠀@⠀bang chan.

fluff fic to celebrate one year friendship w my soulmate @starlostastronaut ! this is the idea i had, which in reality is yours ㅤ—⠀⠀bangchan's part of the sport dates headcanon that made us start talking that july 31st... and because swimmer golden boy chris is just too delicious 🫶🏼 not proofread, enjoy! 🤍

SEE MORE.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀1.2k words. ⠀⠀general mlist.⠀⠀join taglist.

You took a step closer, unsure, and stood still, the door to the women's changing rooms at your back. A gentle breeze was blowing inside the room, shivers caressing the bare skin of your legs and shoulders, and you did not hesitate to hug yourself, slightly uncomfortable. It was dark, you could barely see the large pool in front of you, and Chan was taking too long. Being there without the coach, in off-training hours, felt illegal somehow.

But you had agreed to meet the golden boy. He had the keys to the campus pool because as the star of the swim team he got up early to train every day, had even earned the trust of professors and administrators, and the shadow of dimples on his cheeks when he smiled would charm anyone. Of course, no one would think it was wrong if he decided to invite a girl for a swim. Perhaps the only person who might object would be you —using communal facilities for personal leisure activities seemed unethical— but since you were the girl he had proposed the date to, you couldn't complain. Girlfriend privileges.

The lights suddenly went on, making you jump and clutch your arms tighter, turning towards the door where the electrical panel was located, and you heard a string of insults in deep English. You sighed, waiting for him to turn off the main spotlights and switch on the small underwater lamps instead. Being in the dark wasn't part of the plan, but neither did everyone need to know that there were people in the pool at midnight.

“Well, that's it,” he murmured, and you heard the loud thud of his flip-flops on the floor, approaching you, “all set.”

“There wasn't much to prepare,” you pronounced, raising an eyebrow, teasingly. He was still dressed in the tank top he'd worn to class in the morning, his hair a mess of salt water and sand —a reminder of the afternoon he'd spent at the beach with his friends. It was summer, and his mood reflected it.

You heard him repeat your words in a mocking tone before you felt him behind you, the softness of his chest deliciously warm against your bare back, and his arms slid around you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath drifting down your throat as he spoke, and he asked you again, as he had texted you so often throughout the afternoon, if you were sure you wanted to be there. With him.

“We've already bathed in the sea at night, baby,” you replied, placing your hands on his, and running your thumb affectionately over his skin. “This won't be any different.”

“But I know you're panicking about getting caught.”

“If we get caught,” you replied, leaning your head against his temple, squinting your eyes. The smell of chlorine made you feel at home, after so many hours submerged under the waters of the swimming pool, and you had always felt at ease in his embrace.

“If we get caught,” he said, his voice a soft cascade of comfort, soaking in every shared breath.

“Wanna race?” you asked, tapping your feet with unspilled energy on the tiled edge of the pool.

“Is that even a question?”

You didn't wait for him to finish pronouncing the last letter, already twisting in his arms until he let you free, and you didn't hesitate either to run towards the pool, jumping, creating an elegant curve in the air before hitting the surface of the water and let it swallow you. Time stopped in the first moments, your mind emptying of thoughts and your heart of worries, and you floated. You slid in parallel to the deep part of the pool, feeling the coolness of the water surrounding you, and you heard the splash of your boyfriend's body as he threw himself next to you.

You smiled, opening your eyes, and began to move your legs at full speed, stretched like an arrow, surfacing to breathe but without losing pace. You didn't want to check how close you were to Chan, so you started moving your legs and hands in a rehearsed choreography, sticking your hands out and drawing an arc in the air before breathing again. You had it calculated. You had done that same exercise too many times. You needed only ten strokes to get to the other side.

Unfortunately, Chan just needed eight.

When you reached the other side, he was already waiting, chest flushed and breathing swiftly. He had arrived barely six seconds before you, but in the sport you both practised, every second counted. And he had a strength trained in the gym daily, which always managed to beat you when you competed against each other. One of the reasons why he was the star of the team.

You still entered championships from time to time, but you valued the little moments with him much more than the adrenaline of a victory. You hadn't demanded that he give up swimming for you when you had been injured, and even though he had offered it to you, you loved him too much not to allow him to dedicate himself to his greatest passion. That was why he had proposed starting those date nights, and that was why you always said yes.

You approached him, feeling your heart racing everywhere, your shoulder protesting about the effort you had put him through, and you rested your forehead against his chest. Every time you swam, you ended up hurting yourself more, and you both knew it. But you couldn't stop. Being underwater was as important as breathing for you. Chan understood that, and supported every decision you made.

He slid the tips of his fingers over your wet skin, following the droplets of water until they reached your shoulders, and left them there, applying just enough pressure to ease the discomfort. He knew where to touch to make you feel better, and you always breathed a sigh of relief when he massaged you like that.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I don't know what I would do without you.”

You heard him hum, a sound that indicated he had heard you, and then he held your head in his hands, making you look into his eyes. Two quick touches against your jaw, one long caress. I. Love. You. You got lost in the depths of his gaze, dark as an autumn forest, or a hot chocolate on a cold afternoon, and you smiled. The skin of your cheeks stretched under his fingers, and he returned the curve of his lips, mirroing yours, eternally accompanied by those charming dimples.

You placed your hand over his, leaning against it, and let the moment last a little longer. Two quick kisses against the palm of his hand, one that lasted forever. I. Love. You. You didn't need words.

© stayconnecteed 2024 ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[kaiswifeblog]

GONNA REQ REAL QUICK BUT I AM IN NEED OF A HUENING FLUFF JDJFKSJCND

Newly established relationship where reader is just teasing hueka using all the couple nicknames and for a cuter tone them learning ones in he speaks in like korean, chinese, japanese or german (any language he speaks in we'll pretend hes fluent) and its just making him blush kdnckskc this boy has my whole heart i can't

a/n: YES YES YES YES I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS THIS IS ACTUALLY SO CUTE 😚 TY FOR THE REQUEST

Title: other language nicknames

Genre: fluff

Pairing: bf! Hueningkai x fem!reader

Warnings: for the other nicknames I used Google translate so if there is something bad with them say it!!!!

you always knew Hueningkai was from nearly every part of the world: Germany? He had a royal ancestor from there, Hawaii? He was born there, Korea? His mom was from there.

So you knew that he also knew a lot of laguages, and ever since you started dating him, you started teasing him! And this week you had a plan...

Teasing Kai in every language he speaks for every day of the week!

DAY ONE:

For day one you decide for the nickname ''engel'' in English it's angel.

now you're just waiting for him to come home from the convenience store and in that time you started pronouncing it a lot, so that you wouldn't embarass yourself while pronouncing it.

After Kai arrived home you started you plan started.

''Hey engel did you get everything'' you said obviously Kai was shocked ''honig when did you start learning German?'' ''because i wanted to know one of the languages you can speak!'' ''okay now let's go so we can make dinner'' ''mein freund is so responsible''

Even if Kai was turned around you could see his ears redening and you were proud of yourself.

DAY TWO:

as soon as Kai walked through the door he knew something was wrong. He remebered the interaction from yesterday and how you were just giggling the whole evening.

As soon as he entered the apartament he saw you sprinting toward him with your arms open to give him an hug.

"おかえりなさい、かわいい子！(Welcome home sweetie!)" Kai looked up startled as you just spoke in japanese and yesterday you just talked in german, how many languages are you learning?

"baby... how many languages are you learning!" "i just want to speak better the languages you know so that we can communicate better!"

you saw him turn away like he akways did when he blushed.

"baby i know we haven't been together for a lot but we can still talk!"

and he just went into the bathroom to wash his face.

DAY SEVEN:

It was the last day of you plan and today you were going all out, you were not even gonna say anything in English.

You were going to talk only in korean

You hear your phone ringing, it's Kai telling you to meet him outside for your date.

" 안녕 자기!! (Hello! Sweetie!!)" You spoke catching Kai of guard "oh hello! Are you ready?" He asked.

"그래 가자!! (Yes let's go!)" Kai was confused why were you speaking Korean? You always spoke in English.

He left it alone but you only spoke Korean and it made him worry but the pet names being used he also got flustered a lot.

*after dinner*

"did you like dinner darling?" He asked after exiting the restaurant.

"네, 저는 정말 그것을 좋아했습니다... (Yes, I really like the...)" You started trying to remember how to say the word you wanted to say

"steak? Yeah it looked really good!" He said with too much enthusiasm in his body.

"now let's go home 천사."

[xsolaresx]

daryl dixon.: love goes through the fire

pairings: daryl dixon x fem! reader wife!

summary: after being kidnapped and tortured by Negan, the reader does everything she can to make Daryl feel better.

warnings: angst! sad! graphic description of Glenn and Abraham's death! mention of torture! only depression from here on!

word count: 3,9k

Author @xsolaresx  

notes: English is not my first language, so there may be some grammatical errors.

The noise still bothered me every night. Whenever my eyes closed, even for just a second, the sound of the bat repeatedly hitting Abraham's skull and then Glenn's tormented me. 

One hit after another, and at the end Negan's diabolical laughter. 

I could still feel Glenn's blood dripping down to my knees, I was so close to him that after it was over I was covered in his blood and the scraps of skin that flew off. No matter how many baths I forced myself to take, that sticky feeling of fresh blood never left my skin. And sometimes I still found a patch of my skin with a crimson tinge impregnated in it. 

My dark circles told anyone who saw me that I hadn't slept for days. I kept reliving the moment like an endless loop in my head. I still remember how that day began, that week, that month, how the whole situation ended the way it did. 

Hilltop had enemies, and Alexandria needed food. One thing led to another. 

First the massacre at the outpost, then the kidnapping of Carol and Maggie. Everyone had questions about whether it was the right thing to do, whether killing so many people was worth it, whether it was worth seeing another sunrise under so much blood. 

But Carol felt more, the deaths she had caused were beyond counting on her hands. We all kill to survive, but she was molded in this world, she wasn't raised with Rick's hero instinct, or the strength that the trauma and torture that Daryl suffered at the hands of his father and brother did to him. It was too much for her, she couldn't look us in the eye anymore, so she ran away from everything and everyone. 

There was no concrete reason for so many deaths, they were evil, weren't they? They killed people, and they die at the hands of our people. We did what had to be done. We saved a community from the so-called Saviors, but it couldn't have been that easy, there were more of them, there always would be. 

Daryl had to see it first hand. Denise died in front of him by her crossbow. It made him furious, we saved Dwight in the burning bush, helped him and his wife only for him to do something terrible in the end. Daryl had shown them a way, but they couldn't believe that was salvation.

He had to go back there, he had to finish what he didn't finish. He thought it was his fault that Tara no longer had a girlfriend. If only I could have stopped him before...

Everything happened so fast, Maggie got sick, we had to get her to Hilltop. I thought I'd meet Daryl at night, in our room, I'd arrive and he'd be waiting for me, he'd apologize for leaving unannounced, we'd talk and make things right, and then we'd sleep together and have a new day. 

But that day never came. 

They surrounded us on the road, left us with no way out and took us exactly where they wanted us. The frightening whistles were the prelude to something much worse to come. After that I only remember seeing Daryl shot and bleeding being dragged to the wheel, Abraham offering himself up and dying by the bat. 

Little by little I saw the terror forming in Rick's eyes. In all the years I've been with him leading this group, this was the first time I'd seen the elder Grimes lost, with no way out and praying that this madman wouldn't take someone else from our family. 

But Dixon got angry, he tried to get to Negan. And the next thing I knew, the bat with the barbed wire was next to my face. Daryl screamed so much, screamed, cried. 

"It's all right, my love. I love you, it wasn't your fault” I could only look at him, knowing that he would be the last thing I saw before I left calmed me down. 

Negan started smiling and swinging his baseball bat between the two of us. "What the fuck! Let's see what we've got here, guys."  

“P-please... no-no” 

“You'd better shut the fuck up, Rick! Or your dear son's next.” Negan shouted when Grimes tried to intervene, he knew that if I died Daryl would never be the same. "So you're a couple? Dwight's best friend has a wife? hohoho this just gets more interesting!"

“If you lay a finger on her I'll kill you, you bastard!” Daryl wasn't the type to take a beating quietly, even though he was losing blood and had a gun to his head he was going to try and fight back.

“Ah, but I'll remember that very well, dear Daryl... You know what... I'm tired of all this, why don't we just get it over with, huh?” The next thing I saw was blood gushing everywhere. One second I had Glenn, my best friend, the person who had saved me in so many ways by my side, and the next I had a lifeless body. 

Daryl was taken away that night, as a guarantee that we would stay on the line. And only God knows what happened to him during those days.

I couldn't bear to see him so bruised and dirty the first time the Saviors came to Alexandria. That wasn't my Daryl anymore, he looked so fragile, wounded, defeated. He was no longer the survivor who could take it all.

“No! He's my servant now, you don't talk to him, you don't look at him, and I don't make you cut off any part of his body.” Negan shouted when Rick tried to talk to Dixon. “And that goes for everyone, even his wife, understand?” I couldn't walk away, I needed to hug Daryl, tell him that everything was going to be okay and that I was there, but I couldn't risk someone else in our family, so I just turned and walked to our house, mine and Daryl's, unable to hold back the tears any longer. The last thing I heard was Negan's shrill laughter. “That one knows how to take orders, Rick!”

A few days had passed since then, we hadn't heard from Daryl, Maggie was hiding in Hilltop, which was under threat from the Saviors. Rick went out every day in search of supplies for the Saviors, and I... couldn't leave the house. I couldn't leave the room, the bed where I could still smell Daryl.

Frantic knocks started at my door, and when I opened it, I saw Gabriel. "He's back, Y/N. He hasn't done anything yet, but he's back with Carl, they're at Rick's now and he's not back from his run with Aaron yet. I-I don't, we don't know what to do, Judith is there with them and..."

"Gabriel, breathe. It's okay.” I held the priest by the shoulders, trying to calm him down. Everyone was lost, scared. “Tell everyone to stay in their homes, they mustn't have come for anything else, so don't provoke them, okay?” 

“But Judith... I... I promised Rick I'd look after her...” 

“I'll go, okay?” I grabbed my sweater and left the house in the direction of Rick's. If Carl is back with Negan, it means that the boy went after him planning some revenge. He's so young, but he harbors so much anger, he's lost so much to this world. 

“Hold it right there, cutie,” one of Negan's henchmen stopped me on the front steps of the house. 

“I want to talk to him.”

“You can let her through, let's hear what the wife has to say” I stared at the man until he got out of my way. I was angry, the way he called me 'wife' only reminded me that every day Daryl was in prison, being tortured by him. “Hello, my dear, to what do I owe your presence in my humble abode?” Negan was sitting on the balcony with Judith on his lap asleep, Carl was next to him without the bandage on his eye with a sad and angry expression. I completely ignored the killer and turned to the boy.

“Are you all right, Carl?”

“Yeah. I'm fine, he didn't do anything,” he replied, lowering his head. I turned to Negan, who didn't look the least bit happy at being ignored. 

“I want to see him.”

“You're going to have to be more specific, sweetheart.”

"I want to see my husband, see if he's alive. You can search me, I don't have any weapons after you took them all. Take me with you to him." A devilish smile appeared on his face. 

“You know, I can see that you don't look so good after I took your man, but I don't know if I was very clear when I said that he's now my servant, maybe you won't like what you see, your husband isn't the most sociable.”

"I know he's not, but I've seen worse. I need to see him alive, it's okay if he's dirty." 

"Ah girl, you're a tough nut to crack. But I understand, I can't go too many days without seeing my wives, Carl here has met some of them and he can tell you how hot they are! Tell you what, I'll talk to Rick, we'll settle up and if I'm still in a good mood you can come with me." 

“Thanks”

“Oh how I like that word, thank you.” Then Spencer arrived, started his plan to take Rick out and ended up dying. Eugene was going to be taken away for making the bullet. 

“You're gonna take me, right?” I shouted as Negan neared the gate, about to leave. 

"Y/N... what? No." Rick tried to approach but I moved away, I needed to see Daryl.

“I almost forgot the wife, search her, you're coming with me in the truck”

I kept quiet the whole way, blindfolded, the truck had three seats, the driver was some kind of savior who kept quiet and Negan made me stay in the middle of them in case I decided to jump out during the journey. 

“I told them to give your husband a bath, you know, to make him look more presentable, but no intimate visits, I don't want him to get too comfortable with all this” Negan said when we stopped in front of a room. “I also took him out of his cell, that's no place for a lady like you, my love”. When the door opened I saw Daryl in the corner of the room, a little cleaner, but cowering in the dark with an angry look on his face, but when he saw me he turned away from the wall in anguish. Dwight was in the other corner, standing guard. “I thought you guys would be more comfortable with an acquaintance on guard.”

“Not the best, but thanks,” I said between my teeth, looking at Dwight, who couldn't take his eyes off Daryl.

"What the fuck, baby! If you thank me one more time I won't be able to let you go, you've become my favorite." Then he left, closing the door. I ran over to Dixon, throwing myself into his arms, but he didn't return the hug, still focused on the other man in the room. 

"No, no, please, look at me, darling. Don't focus on him, focus on me, please.” I ran my hands over his face and turned him towards me, tears starting to well up in my eyes when I saw the bandage on his shoulder where he had been shot. “I missed you so much, are you okay?”

“I don't think he's going to say much, he probably doesn't even remember how he does it, does he Daryl?” 

"Shut the fuck up Dwight! If you don't I'll come over there and smash your face in” I turned to him who just laughed weakly and left the room. 

“You have to get out of here, you can't stay, I can't protect you... them... them” his voice was broken, as if he hadn't spoken for days. 

“Shiii, it's okay, I just came to see you, he's taking me back, we made a deal... What did they do to you, darling?”

“It was my fault”

"What? No, it wasn't, everything's fine at home, everyone's fine” He pulled my hand away from his face, moving away from me. 

“It was my fault, Glenn, then Maggie, she died because of me” 

“My goodness, no” I moved closer to him so that no one would hear. "Maggie's fine, the baby's fine, we did it so he wouldn't get suspicious. Everyone's fine” Daryl pulled me into a long-suffering kiss and began to cry, grabbing me in a hug, I sat on the floor with him still clinging to me. Dixon looked so broken, he wasn't the same strong guy who did everything for Rick. We stayed like that for a few hours, I ran my fingers through his hair to calm him down, he didn't sleep, he was on the lookout for any threat, but he closed his eyes, enjoying the affection. Until our bubble burst when someone opened the door. Daryl got up at a speed I didn't think he could manage, weakened like that, and promptly stood in front of me, protecting me from whoever came in. 

"Visiting hours are over, honey. I hope you didn't take your clothes off after Dwight left." Negan entered the room with a smug smile, covering his eyes with his bat. 

“I'm very well dressed, much to your displeasure,” I said, getting up and standing next to Daryl, who promptly grabbed my hand. "I have to get back, but nobody's forgotten you here, okay? We'll get you out of this, sweetheart."

“I wouldn't be so sure, but now Laura will take you back, and I hope your puppy behaves better after the visit.” Negan left and a blonde woman came in, waving us out.

I hugged Daryl one last time, kissing his forehead and left the room. 

The days passed more melancholy and with preparations for the war against the Saviors approaching. Rick got help from the people at the Dump. We were on our way to Hilltop to talk to Maggie and get her support. 

But when the gates opened, my vision blurred with tears... Daryl was there, a little shy, but waiting for us halfway. 

I threw my backpack on the floor and ran as fast as I could to him, his arms already open waiting for me, and he kissed me with such urgency that I lost my breath. We stayed like that for a few minutes, crying and hugging, until Rick approached us in silence, his smile unmistakable. 

I broke away from Dixon, making room for Rick and the others to hug him. Joyful laughter with tears coming out of me. 

_______________________________

“We can't try anything without Hilltop's weapons, we have a lot of personnel, but it's still too little, and we're vulnerable that way.” Maggie said after we left Gregory's room, the asshole would rather spend his whole life under threat than fight back. 

“She's right, but maybe I know someone who'd be interested in helping... they call themselves The Kingdom.” Jesus intervenes, from the corner of the room, where we're hugging, Daryl squeezes my hand with an air of hope and I can't help but smile at him with confidence too.

“Do you think they'd be allies in the war?” Rick asks, shifting in his seat. The situation isn't the best, I realize that now. I was so numb from missing Daryl that I didn't focus on protecting the community, and Rick had to handle it alone. 

“They also suffer threats from the Saviors, but the community doesn't know about it, only the leader and people they trust.” 

“He doesn't want to create panic or riots for no reason,” I say and everyone agrees. “So, what are we waiting for?” With a nod from Rick, everyone leaves the mansion and heads for their cars. The whole time Daryl didn't let go of my hand and I didn't make a point of complaining, he wasn't one to show much affection in the midst of so many people, but after everything that happened to him, I understand. 

The Kingdom was very large, with many warriors training and many families, protected and happy. I squeeze Dixon's hand tighter when I see a couple with a newborn baby surrounded by elderly women. He stares at the couple and lowers his head.

When we enter the auditorium, the first thing that catches our eye is the huge tigress sitting next to a guy on a kind of throne. Rick shies away from approaching her, but they talk normally. Until Morgan appears, and Daryl asks me quietly where Carol is. “It's a delicate subject, but if Morgan's here she must be all right, you know she's tough.” He nods, even though his curiosity isn't quenched, he knows it's not time.

The King didn't accept our proposal, but gave Daryl the freedom to take refuge in the Kingdom for as long as he needed. 

“We need to go Y/N, they can go into Alexandria after Daryl.” Rick appeared next to us as I was saying goodbye to Dixon, I nodded and he walked away. 

“It's temporary, when this is over you're not leaving my side anymore, okay?” I held Daryl's cheeks and he bowed his head sadly. 

“I want to go with you, I want to help put an end to this”

"You'll help, my love. Staying here, safe. Maybe you can convince the King, we need him."

“You know I'm not that diplomatic”

“Let's look at this situation as an opportunity, what do you think?” I smile to break the mood, Daryl gives a sad smile. “I'll never leave you, my love” I say more seriously so that he feels the truth, these days away from him were the worst and I don't want it to happen again.

_______________________________

“Look, look, look, Rick Grimes has come to greet me on my doorstep!” Negan and his henchmen arrived shortly after we got back from the Kingdom, someone up there is surely on our side. "I love seeing your abandoned dog face, Rick, but today my business is with your little friend's wife. Why don't you bring her to me?" 

Rick nods begrudgingly, turns and starts walking towards the main house where we were all gathered, waiting for some sign of Grimes. 

“He wants to talk to you.” Rick approaches and says quietly. “Be careful, he's unpredictable.” 

"That's all right, Rick. I'll put him in his place, I've had enough of this.” I walk away quickly, anger overflowing just knowing that because of him my Daryl is shaken. 

“Y/N, no, wait.” Rick tries to stop me, but it's too late, I'm striding hard towards Negan. 

“I hear you want to talk to me.” That maniac's smile only gets wider when he sees me.   

"Oh, hello, darling. How are you? Miss your husband?" 

“You've got to be kidding... of course I miss him, if you don't remember you took him away from me and I'm very possessive of what's mine,” I say through my teeth. If he thinks I'm going to be compassionate and keep my mouth shut, he's mistaken.

"Wow, that's what I like about you, darling. You're tough as nails,” he says with a mischievous laugh. "The problem is that your husband was very moved by your visit, you know? And he must have thought it was a loophole for an escape." 

“Wait, what?” I say exasperated, I've always loved acting. “You mean you've lost my husband?” 

“I thought you could help me find him.” 

“You're unbelievable...” I whisper indignantly. “If you think he's here you can look, have your goons search every house, every manhole or cupboard in this place.”

“You're always a refreshment to me, darling, you always know what I want.” I roll my eyes as he sends his men to search Alexandria. 

As expected, they find nothing and leave, promising to return next week to collect supplies. 

“I have to go, Rick,” I warn Grimes. To avoid the risk of them following me, I waited a few hours after they left, and night came. I need to see Daryl, he won't stay another night thinking we've abandoned him. He gets up from the rocking chair on the porch of his house with Judith on his lap and approaches.

“Okay, but be careful, make sure no one's following you.” Rick hugs me in his fatherly way. We were always close like brothers, after I lost everything Rick was there as a leader for everyone. “And send him a hug, tell him we miss him.” 

“I will.” I say goodbye to him and kiss the head of a sleepy Judith, who gives me a smile. I grab a car and head out through the cellars of Alexandria, towards the Kingdom, towards Daryl.

_______________________________

“She's magnificent” Daryl was standing next to Shiva's cage when I arrived at the Kingdom. Quiet and shrunken, just stroking the snout of the tigress who melted at his touch.

“She is.” he confirms with a frown. I moved closer until I could see tears forming in his eyes. I quickly bent down, sat next to him and hugged him tightly, which he reciprocated. 

"It's all right now, my love. I'm here, you're not going to stay away from me any longer.” I tried to calm his crying, which was only getting more intense. I've never seen Daryl so broken, he seemed to be accumulating all the suffering, the pain, waiting to fall apart on me. He would never do that to anyone else. 

“I got scared.” Daryl says after he calms down. “I was afraid of losing you too, losing our family.” 

“You're not going to lose me, ever.” 

“But what if it does?” Daryl lifts his head with a more serious look. "When they tortured me, all I could think about was you, that you'd be alone out here, unprotected. They could do anything to you to make me accept the fact that I was nothing in that place. And I felt like nothing."

“No, no, no.” I pull Daryl's face so that he pays close attention to me. “You're not going to lose me, you know why? Because your wife is strong, she'll go through hell to pull you out of the fire and when I can't do it anymore I'll have our whole family helping me, because I love you, Daryl, we love you. That's what love does, it turns us into fighters, people who would do anything for the one they love. I love you, Daryl.” Tears flowed non-stop from my eyes and Daryl's.

“I love you, Y/N” His lips met mine fervently, it was a needy kiss, as if he had been thirsty for days and I was his oasis in the desert. I gave myself completely to him, wanting more and more all the time. 

We were too wrapped up in our bubble, completely forgetting that Shiva was still in the cage next door, and an imposing roar from her broke us out of this bubble of lust. 

“I don't think she likes not being the center of attention,” we laughed when we noticed the tigress's angry face at being left out. 

“She'll have to accept it, because now my only attention is on my wife.” 

[bi-hop]

why the vulture scene in atsv is pure horror (spoilers under the cut)

As promised, I now have the mental bandwidth to actually talk about Adriano Tumino aka the Medieval Vulture in Across the Spiderverse. This is a spoiler fest, so I'm putting everything under the cut. Enjoy!

So, at some point when I was younger, I first heard about Flatland. It's this satirical novella from 1884. When I was looking it up again last night to prepare myself to explain it to other people, I was SHOCKED to hear it was satire on Victorian society and class structures. I had only ever heard about it in science and horror spaces. As a work, it's mainly known now for exploring the idea of 4th dimensions before Einstein, but it also continues elements that are straight out of horror. So, instead of breaking down the whole thing, I'm going to be focusing on that stuff specifically.

Flatland is about A. Square (yes, that's his name), who is a square. As you can imagine, his entire world is two-dimensional and functions as such. There's a lot of worldbuilding, but just keep in mind that

The people in his world cannot conceive of a 3rd dimension, and any mention of such is heretical.

Circles are the highest ranked people in this world.

One day, he encounters what he thinks is a circle. Said character is actually a sphere. Even as said sphere fucks with his perception by looking like disks sliding in and out of reality and tells him about the 'truth' of the world, A. Square can't comprehend the third dimension until his teacher lifts him into it, into Spaceland. The square is enlightened! His mind has been opened! He tells the sphere, if his reality is false and there's truly a third dimension, what if there are more? What if a fourth dimension exists with fourth dimensional beings who cannot be accurately perceived?

His teacher immediately casts him back down into Flatland, where he is subsequently imprisoned. No one believes that the third dimension and Spaceland exist. He only is able to write the novella and hope that one day Flatland will be ready for this knowledge.

All of this to say that Adriano is A. Square.

I read a lot of dimension-based horror. Maybe it's because the multiverse has compelled me since I was a kid, or maybe it's because I've heard way too many thought experiments about how every person on the planet may see the world differently, and we just use the same language to describe fundamentally different visuals because we can't accurately verify anything. The horror of it all, for both readers and writers, isn't necessarily the idea of seeing things others can't. At least, it's not in the hands of someone sincerely thinking about the 'eldritch'. Instead, imagine a higher being grabbing you and exposing you to a whole new, weighty aspect of reality you could never conceive without actively being dragged into it. And then you're thrown back into your reality. It consumes you, drives you, and no one believes you. How can they, when it's something so alien to your reality that no one can even think of it unless shown?

Because of the ripple effects of the collider, Adriano Tumino is dragged into Earth-65, the home of Spider-Woman (Gwen Stacy). We don't know a lot about his world. As far as I remember, we don't even get a number designation. But his design, dialogue, and track all communicate a great deal about him. Vulture Meets Culture as a track blends Gwen's theme with the sort of opera he might listen to back home. He's designed heavily on the aesthetics of Da Vinci notebooks. As he affects the world, you can even see notations a la research scribbles next to diagrams. From memory alone, disregarding the fact that he's Italian (though I'm sure the insistence on English in Earth-65 was probably disorientating if his entire world speaks Italian), he also finds this new reality to be abhorrent and lashes out. This alone, an exposure to new colors and strange art and even weirder people who look nothing like you and the rest of your world, would be hard enough to cope with.

And then Miguel, this Spider-Man from 2099, drags Adriano out into the modern day.

The thing with movies being in theaters is that I'm at the mercy of random people who film showings on their phone to get footage. Because everyone finds the helicopter scene directly after this more interesting (which is valid), I don't have a picture of this moment. But when Adriano is flying out into this future, when he lays his eyes on these towering skyscrapers alight with color, you can see his shock, perhaps even terror. It'd be rough enough being exposed to a version of Italy that's, say, his time period but in technicolor. But this is worse. This is his Spaceland moment. The opera builds almost mournfully.

Soon, he will be sent back to his reality. This will happen in an even more incomprehensible future dimension, with even more people who look nothing like him. Perhaps there's a version of his granddaughter there. Tiana Tumino? It doesn't matter. Imagine this though. Your grandfather is yanked out of existence. He comes back. And he tells you 'I have seen colors beyond the ones we live in. I have seen towers of glass and metal scraping the sky, all alight in these colors. I have seen art that contains more art, and it was hideous. No one understood me. Flying things neared me that were beyond anything even our greatest geniuses can make.'

Do you believe him? Can you even imagine it all, even if he describes it, even if he shows you drawings of what he witnessed?

What will you say?

[rvzcvx]

HEYYY i dont really fanfictions but idk,I really liked one of your fanfictions ,is it possible to have a FanFiction with bill x m!reader Or reader non gender ?🎀 With 2005 bill cause he's my favorite Era,I want something cute and fluff cause he was 16..I just had the idea that bill and reader don't really understand it because like bill speak.german and he doesn't understand english and reader doesn't understand german😭!Afterwards for the rest I leave you free ideas! because I trust you

Love you🫶

THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE

pairing: 2005 bill x male reader

warnings: nothing, just fluff

a/n: im sorry for not posting for so long but i had to focus on school. i promise that i will try to post more often!! and btw i love you too, i hope youre gonna like what i wrote

I still couldn't believe it, I was sitting in the living room of Bill Kaulitz, my boyfriend, from my favorite band. It felt surreal, like a dream I never wanted to wake up from.

The room was filled with posters, CDs, and personal items that gave it a cozy vibe. Bill was in the kitchen, making us some tea. I could hear him humming softly, his voice always managing to soothe my nerves.

We met a few months ago after one of his concerts. I had been a fan for years, and the opportunity to see him perform live was a dream come true. I never imagined that I would actually meet him, let alone start a relationship with him. It was hard at first, with him speaking mainly German and me only knowing English, but we found ways to communicate.

Bill walked back into the room, holding two steaming cups of tea. He smiled warmly and handed me one. "Hier, für dich." he said, his accent making the words sound even more special.

"Danke." I replied, one of the few German words I had mastered. I smiled back at him, feeling a warmth spread through me.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, sipping our tea. Bill looked at me, his eyes full of affection and something else I couldn't quite place.

"You... like the tea?" he asked, his English slow but deliberate. "Yes" I nodded, "It's perfect, just like everything you do."

Bill blushed, a soft pink tint coloring his cheeks. "Danke, mein liebling." he said, reaching out to take my hand. His touch was gentle and reassuring, a silent promise that everything was going to be okay.

We had learned to bridge the gap between our languages with gestures, smiles, and a lot of patience. Bill would teach me simple German phrases, and I would help him with his English. It was a process, but one that brought us even closer.

Bill set his cup down and moved closer to me on the couch. He pulled me into a warm embrace, and I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, letting the unspoken words fill the space between us. His arms around me were my safe haven, a place where I felt completely at home.

After a while, Bill pulled back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. "You... make me very happy." he said, his English improving day by day.

"You make me happy too, Bill." I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know."

Bill's smile widened, and he leaned in for a kiss. Our lips met in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of all the things we couldn't yet say in words. When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, but content.

He wrapped his arms around me again, pulling me close. "Ich liebe dich." he whispered into my ear. I had learned that phrase early on. "I love you too, Bill" I replied.

As the evening turned into night, we continued to talk, laugh, and simply enjoy each other's company. It didn't matter that we spoke different languages; what mattered was the love we shared and the bond that grew stronger every day.

By the time we decided to call it a night, I felt more connected to Bill than ever. We climbed into bed, cuddling close under the warm blankets. Bill held me tight, his presence a comforting weight next to me.

"Gute nacht , mein Liebling." he murmured sleepily. "Goodnight, Billy." I replied, feeling my eyes grow heavy.

As I drifted off to sleep, I knew that whatever challenges we faced, we would face them together. Our love was stronger than any language barrier, and that was all that mattered. In Bill's arms, I felt at home, loved, and understood. And that was a feeling that needed no translation.

[yourbloodysunrise]

Hello there ^^ I was wondering I could request a fem reader x Raphael oneshot where the reader is short (height wise) and Raphael teases her to no end, but later realizes he has feelings for her?

🌤 — weell, I don't really good at Raphael writing, but I will try, at least :3

❝ What's so bad about little joke? ❞

— FANDOM: TMNT 2012

— PAIRING: RAPHAEL X SHORT!READER

— ROMANTIC

— ONESHOT

— READER IS FEMALE

— TW: OOC, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, RAPH A ASSHOLE TEENAGER IN THIS ONE

"Why can't you just be quiet?" — you hiss irritably at Raphael, rubbing your temples, feeling that his voice practically gives you a headache. Unfortunately, he is the one who has to patrol the city with you.

It's not that you dislike Raph or anything, but his jokes about your height irritated you to the point of outrage. And even worse, he knew it.

"Whoa, shorty, don't get all worked up."  —Raphael replied with a grin, leaning on the water tower, — "You know it's true!Don't take offense at the truth."

"Raph." — you shushed him, turning to face him, squinting at him with a tired face, — "Two requests: shut up, and keep looking."

"Okay, okay, be calm." — Raph replied with a snort, shrugging his shoulders, turning his head to look down. You stared at him for a couple more seconds before also turning your head away so that you could see what was happening on the street.

Your relationship with Raph was..difficult. On the one hand, Raph almost never got mad at you as with others, and seemed to trust you with his feelings, and you, in turn, treated him with understanding.

But sometimes, when Raphael got particularly bored and Mikey wasn't around, he would start teasing you. And, God, you wouldn't complain if it wasn't so common. Lately, he's been joking about your height almost every time you meet..

You sigh, shaking your head, interrupting your thoughts. He has always had a tendency to sneer at someone, including his family, so it shouldn't be surprising that he does this to you. After all, you're just a friend of the turtles.

For a while, both of you are silent for another twenty minutes, watching the order on the streets, before Raph first break the silence, addressing you, — "How long have we been sitting here?"

You mumble thoughtfully, thinking about this, taking out your t-phone to look at the time. Five in the morning..Did you really listen to Raphael's taunts in your direction for more than five hours while you were patrolling this area?How awful.

"Morning is coming, we will need to return to the lair soon." — you answer, putting t-phone back in your pocket, sitting on the concrete side of the roof, looking down, noticing that life in the city is slowly waking up. Fortunately for you, there are no mutants, ninjas or aliens today.

"Already?!Nothing even happened!" — Raph growls in frustration, involuntarily grimacing in annoyance as his fists clench.

"Well, we don't have to fight every day."

"Augh, come on!It's our job to fight the bad guys!" — Raph exhales, looking at you with his arms outstretched, — "What else should we do?"

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. Okay, anyway, the end of the patrol is coming soon, Raphael can handle it without you. It's time for you to take a break from heroism.

"Okay, you know what?I think I deserve my little vacation today." — you speak briefly before getting up from the roof and jumping at a run to another one.

"Uh..Hey, wait, where are you going?!Splinter said you need to stay at the lair!"

"I don't think anything can happen to me if I'll stay at home for one day." - you grin at him, looking at him from a distance, before waving goodbye to him, turning away, — "See you soon, hothead."

You quickly disappeared from his field of vision, hiding on the roofs. Raphael sighed as he jumped down into a dark alley under the building where you were patrolling, climbing under the maintenance hatch.

He wasn't sure why exactly he liked you. At the beginning of your communication, you seemed to him like an ordinary typical girl who always needs protection and is always whining..

But when you turned out to be the absolute opposite, showing interest in ninjitsu and being able to stand up for yourself, you got his interes.

You were cool, beautiful, and damn good at fighting. He'd be lying if he said you weren't his type. Sometimes he felt like he was like Donnie when he thought about you, so gn instantly pushed thoughts of you aside. You're just an ally. Friend. His best friend?

And yet, he was amused by your short height. How can a warrior like you be that..Short?For him, it was just a way to make fun of you, you know, as a friend.

When you were annoyed, the excitement awakened in him, and he continued. At some point, it became something of an entertainment for him.

After all, you won't be offended, will you?It's just a joke!Friendly banter from your friendly friend buddy Raphael. There's nothing wrong with that!

For a second, he wondered if there was a possibility that someday you would really be offended by him for this. That would be the least he wanted..Also, the realization that he would have to apologize to you confused him. After all, how would you react to your cool buddy Raph pathetically apologizing to you for a joke?

Raphael stopped, frowning, shaking his head quickly, as if wanting to shake these thoughts out of his head. What the hell is he thinking?!Of course you won't be offended, what's so bad about little joke?

"Damn…" — he groans in annoyance, slapping his face before walking on with a displeased face.

Why did thinking about you always make him feel so ridiculous and soft?He's acting like some kind of fool in love..

....

Wait. A fool in love. Fool. In love.

Raphael's face fills with mute shock as realization dawns on him..

I'm afraid you'll have to catch avoiding you Raph for have a proper conversation with him.

..:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟﾞ｡.:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟ🌤

🌤 — yay, I finished it

🌤 — hope you like it, anon, have a good day☆