#words stolen directly from her by the way

[kate-apologist]

hey guys not to brag but my girlfriend is obsessed with me (and i'm obsessed w her) and it's amazing i love her

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

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emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

[makingqueerhistory]

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[cloudybarnes]

Secret Admirer

Pairing: slytherin boys x reader

Summary: you never get mail in the morning, not until one day you receive a letter from an anonymous sender, a secret admirer. From that day forward, you’ve been getting letters, poems, and cute little notes each morning at breakfast. His words were sweet, and as you began to fall for them, your quest of figuring out who sent them only grew.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Masterlist

note: trying something new! basically I dont wanna spoil who her secret admirer is, so I’m gonna call it slytherin boys x reader hehe guess you’ll have to read til the end to see who sent her the letters ;)

✰  ✰  ✰

“Theodore Nott, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” You shouted. 

You reached across the table in the great hall where Theo sat directly in front of you. He had stolen all of the bacon off of your breakfast plate and refused to give it up. Mornings were always quite hectic at the slytherin table, but this was downright unacceptable.

“Nope,” he smirked as he popped a piece into his mouth, “they were all out when I went up for breakfast. This bacon is mine now, sweetheart.”

You huffed, and sat back down in your seat. “You’re ridiculous. If you weren’t so damn late all the time, maybe you would have had some bacon of your own.”

“Here (Y/N),” Enzo smiled from his seat right next to you. “You can have some of my bacon.” He picked the best looking pieces and put them on your plate. 

“Aw, Enzo!” You grinned as you picked a piece up and ate it happily. “This is why you're my best friend.”

“Hey!” Pansy shouted from the other side of you. “Thought I was your best friend.”

“You didn’t give up a piece of bacon for her,” Draco smirked, “you’ve been demoted.”

Mattheo gruffed. “Enzo, you’re kind of mean, you know that? (Y/N) complains she’s all out of bacon and you jump to give her a piece, but when I say I need someone to do my charms homework for me, you don’t even try to lift a finger.”

“Mattheo, how many times do I have to tell you,” Enzo said, “I’m never gonna do your homework. And it’s not fair to compare that to giving up a piece of bacon! I don't even like bacon all that much!”

“Dude!” Blaise gasped from next to Draco, “if you don’t like bacon you should have passed that down this way a long time ago.”

Pansy scoffed and shook her head. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Hey,” you whined as you ate another piece of bacon, “I’m the least idiot of the bunch, right Pans?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, (Y/N/N).”

You grinned, about to rebuttal when the morning owl dropped an envelope in front of you.

“What’s this?” You questioned as you picked it up. 

“Uh, I think it’s quite obviously a letter, (Y/N/N).” Mattheo said as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon. “And, to think, you were trying to say you’re the least idiot of us.” He laughed.

“Oi,” Theo knocked his shoulder against Mattheo’s. “Leave her be. I’ve never seen her get a letter before, I’m curious.”

Draco shifted slightly in his seat. “Who’s it from, (Y/N/N)?”

“Nevermind who it’s from,” Blaise chuckled, “I wanna know what it says.”

“Why would you wanna know what it says and not know who it’s from?” Enzo asked, “That's like half the fun.”

You shrugged as you tore open the envelope. Opening the folds of the letter, your cheeks started to warm as you read what was inside. 

“What is it?” Pansy asked as she leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse. 

“It says, uh,” you cleared your throat, a little bit flustered. “It says ‘people love to stare up at the stars, glimmering as they might in the night sky, yet everyone is too scared to enjoy the beauty that is the sun. you are my sun, and I would willingly go blind to catch even just a glimpse of you each day.’”

You friends all stared at you in shock. Draco, Blaise and Mattheo had their mouths hung open in shock. Enzo blushed a little bit, Theo had his eyebrows raised like he appreciated the words written on the page, and Pansy all but squealed as you read the letter. 

“Oh my god, I think I’m going to combust,” Pansy swooned. 

“Who’s it from?” Theo asked.

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You flipped the letter to the back to see if it was signed at all. “It’s only signed with a heart.”

“That is so romantic!” Pansy squealed as she clasped her hands around your arm. “Our sweet (Y/N) has a secret admirer!”

“Wonder who it could be,” Draco said as he flicked his fingers in motion to hand him the letter. 

You complied, and passed the note to him. 

“I don’t know,” he said as he flipped it all around. “The handwriting sort of looks familiar.”

“Maybe it’s someone you know?” Theo suggested as he grabbed the letter from Draco’s hands. He took it upon himself to check it out a time or two before passing it to Mattheo’s eager grasp.

“I think it’s kind of funny,” Mattheo chuckled. “What if it’s some first year trying to make their move on you?”

You shuttered. “Merlin, I sure hope not. I honestly don’t think a first year would be able to write something so beautiful.”

“Yeah, no way,” Pansy shook her head. “Mattheo, you’re just jealous you weren’t the one who sent (Y/N) this letter. Maybe she’d give you a chance if you did something romantic, or just not annoying for once.”

“First,” Mattheo said, “ouch. Second, who says I’m not the one who wrote (Y/N) this love letter?”

“Mattheo, you wouldn’t know romance if it hit you with a ten foot pole.” Pansy said. 

“Hey!” Mattheo complained. “Someone tell her I’m romantic.”

“Hell no,” Draco scoffed. “You’re ‘bout as romantic as bloody boil, mate.” 

You laughed as Mattheo scrunched his face up. The bells chimed signaling the end of breakfast and the start of first class. 

“I’m not too worried about it,” you said as you stood and started packing your stuff up. “It’s just a little letter. No harm in it.”

“But you don’t want to know who sent it?” Pansy asked as she grabbed her belongings as well. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I’m not silly enough to expect something to come from this; it’s just a note. It could be a prank for all we know.” 

“No one who writes like that is doing it as a prank,” Theo remarked. 

“Well, still, whatever the reason may be, I’m not gonna go out looking for this person. No matter how sweet the words are.” You smiled, “I’m gonna head to class, bye guys.”

On your way to class, you couldn’t help but recite the words written in the letter. They had made your heart flutter, as stupid as that sounds. You slightly resented the way it made you feel as it was only a few measly words on paper, but the romantic part of you couldn’t help but want to know who was behind them. 

✰  ✰  ✰

In your last class of the day, you finally were able to see your good friend Luna Lovegood. You had been waiting all morning to have class with her so you can inform her of the letter you received that morning. 

“And it was just so poetic, Luna. No one has ever said anything like that about me before.”

She smiled at you as you mindlessly drew on your assignment. “I think it sounds quite lovely. Do you have any idea who it may be from?”

You shook your head. “No idea. I don’t even think I know anyone who writes, well, anything.” 

“What about that boy Enzo you always hang out with?” Luna suggested. “I’ve got him in my literature class, he’s very talented.”

You thought to yourself for a second. Could it be possible Enzo was your secret admirer? You’d been friends for so long, and he’d always be especially kind to you.

Well, he’s especially kind to everyone, now that you think about it. 

“I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “I guess I just never would have expected it to be one of my friends, let alone Enzo.”

“I wouldn’t rule out your group of friends,” Luna said with a smile, “it could really be any one of them.” 

“You think so?” 

“Well, maybe not all of them, but I think it could be a good place to start if you were wanting to figure out who it is.”

As you pondered over Luna’s words, Slughorn made it a point to reiterate there was no talking allowed during the assignment. 

You rolled your eyes and got back to work, waiting for this class to be over so you could finally figure out who wrote you the letter. 

✰  ✰  ✰

Back in the common room you saw Pansy, Draco, and Enzo sitting on the couches. 

“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Pansy smiled as she scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Find out anything new about your secret admirer?”

You smiled with a roll of your eyes as you sat with her. You kicked your shoes off and folded your legs under your body. “No, but I think I’ve got an idea brewing of how to find them.”

“Oh,” Draco smirked from the couch across from you. He folded his arms over his chest, “do tell, (Y/N), I’m very curious to see who it could be.” 

You shook your head, teasingly, “not a chance, Malfoy. I’m not giving up my secrets til I get to the bottom of this thing.” 

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, doll, if you wanna be secretive about your already secret admirer, I respect it.”

Enzo shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably. “It’s kind of strange though that they went out of their way to write something to you but kept it a secret. It just makes me a little apprehensive.”

“Oh, chill out, scaredy cat,” Pansy said. “(Y/N) will be fine, and if it’s someone weird at least she’s got us to look out for her.”

You grinned and wrapped your arms around Pansy’s neck. “Quit getting all sweet on me, Pans.”

She chuckled and playfully pushed you away. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not getting sweet, don’t get it twisted.”

You chuckled. “I think I’m gonna head up, got lots of scheming to get to,” you teased with a wiggle of your eyebrows. 

You stood up from the couch and Pansy stood with you. “Farewell, boys, it’s been awful as usual.” She said with a smirk. 

“Thank Salazar you’re leaving,” Draco said to her. “Your presence was such a nuisance.” 

Pansy snarled at him and dramatically turned away to head up the stairs. You and Enzo shared a short laugh before you followed her up the stairs to your shared bedroom. 

✰  ✰  ✰

The next morning, you were last to the dining hall for breakfast. 

“Finally, she makes it,” Mattheo called out before taking a swig of his orange juice. 

You huff and settle into your seat between Enzo and Pansy. “I know, I overslept something horrible this morning.”

Since you were so late, the kitchen staff had already stopped serving breakfast meaning you were going without this morning. 

Theo glanced at you from across the table and pushed his plate towards you. “Here,” he said, “take anything you want.”

You looked down at saw scrambled eggs, french toast, and sausage links on his plate. 

“Really?” You grinned as you grabbed a sausage link from his plate. 

Theo nodded, “yeah, can’t have you go without eating. Lord only knows what a monster you can be without food.” He teased with a small smirk. 

You crinkled your nose up at his and grabbed a piece of french toast as well. “I’m gonna let that slide since you were nice enough to give up your breakfast. Don’t make me regret my kindness.”

Theo chuckled and pulled his plate back to him, glancing up at you before delving back into his plate. 

Mattheo tried to reach his hand over to Theo’s plate but was met with a slap on the wrist. 

“Ow!” Mattheo said as he cradled his wrist in fake hurt. “Theo, how could you? I thought we had something special.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “You got more food on your plate then the rest of us combined. I think you’ll be alright.”

You chuckled, but a thought crept into your mind. “Hey, guys, uh, did the post come today?” You asked. 

Draco raised his eyebrow with a smirk. “Waiting for another letter, are we?”

Your face burned as you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna get to the bottom of who it is.” 

“You’ll find ‘em, (Y/N/N),” Pansy said, “even if I have to interrogate everyone we know. We’ll get down to the bottom of it.” 

Just as she said that, the morning owl came swooping down towards you and dropped a small slip of paper in front of you. 

Draco smirked, “Looks like someone really wants your attention, (Y/N/N).”

You tried to hold back your smile as you unfolded the small post it note. 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read out to them, “'I love to see you smile, especially when you’re smiling at me.’ Aw, that’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to get sweet for this mystery man,” Blaise interrupts. 

You shrug as you fold the note back up. “I don’t know, it is pretty sweet, no? And this must mean it’s someone I know personally because they said I smile at them.”

“Oh Godric,” Mattheo grinned, “you’ve fallen for a mystery man.”

“No I haven’t!” You protest. “I just think it’s sweet and now I know it’s someone I’m friends with and not some creepy first year.” 

“Wait,” Theo said, “how do you know it’s someone you’re friends with?”

“Because it says I smile at them,” you said obviously. “Who else do I smile at?”

“(Y/N), I hate to break it to you,” Pansy said as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “but you’re the most smiley slytherin I’ve ever met.”

You shrugged off her hand with a fake glare. “Hey! Give me some credit, I can be bad sometimes.”

Enzo chuckled, this is the first time he spoke all conversation. “You’re too sweet to be bad, (Y/N/N).”

You grinned and playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just know it’s someone I know. I can feel it. It’s not some random person, it can’t be.” 

The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. You and your friends stood up to leave. You couldn’t help but think about the notes you received, pondering on who it could possibly be. 

✰  ✰  ✰

“Post is running late this morning,” Draco noted as the clock struck 8:26 with no sight of the morning owl. 

You were a tad disappointed. You had pondered all day yesterday about who it could be. You’ve narrowed it down quite a bit, and you think Luna may be on to something. While you don’t exactly think for sure that it’s Enzo, you do think you’ve narrowed it down to your group of close friends. 

You really just can’t see anyone else knowing you well enough to be this fascinated with you. The only one out of your friend group that you completely had ruled out is Blaise. 

Blaise was definitely out because out of the whole friend group, he was the least close with you. Frankly, you guys just don’t talk nearly as much as you talk to the rest of them. 

“Great,” Mattheo gruffed, “how will I be entertained this morning without (Y/N)‘s secret stalker and his confession of love.”

Okay, maybe Mattheo was out too. 

“Oi,” Theo piped up. “Don’t knock it too hard, (Y/N) seems to be enjoying herself with the letters.” 

You blushed a little as you shrugged. “I don’t want to seem weird by how invested I am in it, but I just think it’s sweet. No one’s ever really expressed this kind of feeling for me, so… you know,” you shrugged awkwardly, your face definitely beet red by now. 

“Well I for one am extremely invested in this,” Pansy said. “I’m lowkey jealous that I’m not the one with a secret admirer. What I wouldn’t give for someone to think of me that way.” 

“Maybe someday someone will like you, Pansy,” Enzo said reassuringly. 

“We might all be dead by the time that happens, but who knows, it might happen,” Mattheo said. 

Pansy gasped with a glare. “Wow what crawled up your ass this morning?”

Mattheo shrugged and focused his attention back to his breakfast plate. 

“Anyway,” Draco said, “I’m intrigued as well. I think I’ve got an idea who it could be, but I'm not quite positive.” 

You parked up at that. “Really? Who’s your guess?”

Draco smirked, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased. 

You glared at him, “Malfoy, if you know who it is you better spill.”

“I’m not saying I know who it is, I’m just saying I have a hunch at who it may be.”

“Oh!” Enzo exclaims as he points up in the air, “here comes the owl.”

You grin in anticipation as the owl drops a little note down in front of you. It was a larger note than yesterday, but this time it didn’t have something sweet written on it. 

It had a clue. 

“It just says ‘being your friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, though I’d be lying if I said i didn’t want to be more.’” You read. 

“So it is one of you!” Pansy shouted as she pointed her finger towards everyone at the table. 

Draco smirked, “that was my hunch. ‘Had a feeling it was one of these blokes.”

“And who says it’s not you, Malfoy?” Mattheo questioned with a raise of his brow. 

“Please,” Draco scoffed, “if I wanted to woo (Y/N) she’d be mine by now.” 

“Oh big talk from down that end,” Pansy rolled her eyes. 

“I could get anyone I want,” Draco puffed his chest. “I don’t need to be anonymous to do so.” 

“Hey, don’t hate on my letters, Draco.” You complained. “Least they got the balls to say something.” 

“Barely counts as having balls when they won’t even say who they are.” Mattheo countered. 

You huffed as your table fell into somewhat of a silence. Conversations picked up without you as your thoughts trailed off. 

Theo had been extremely quiet this entire time. While he was never the chatter bug, it was odd having gone almost the entire breakfast without hearing from him. 

As everyone else was engaged in conversation, you stared at the boy sitting across from you. His head was down as he played with his breakfast, pushing it around with his fork. 

You lightly kicked his leg under the table. 

Theo’s head perked up. His eyes stared into yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t remember what you wanted to say to the boy. 

His eyebrow raised in question as a small smirk glazed his lips. 

You blushed a little. “I-uh just wanted to see if you were alright. You didn’t really say too much the whole time we’ve been here.”

Theo shrugged as his smile dropped. “yeah, just don’t got too much input.” 

Your heart swelled. You really had turned each morning to revolve around you and your secret pen pal. 

“Sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to annoy you with all my talk of the letters.”

He shook his head. “You could never annoy me, doll.” 

Your heart beat like crazy. 

“Still, though, I feel bad about how much I’ve put into this. Let’s talk about something else.” You offered, “how’s class going?”

Theo chuckled and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Shit. I’m drowning in assignments and got two quizzes coming up that I’m just not ready for.” 

The bell rang. 

Theo groaned. “Got one next class. I think I might skip, though. Give myself some more time to prepare for it.”

As everyone started walking out of the dining hall, you grabbed Theo’s arm and pulled him back. 

His eyes widened slightly, but quickly reverted back to normal. 

“Maybe I‘ll skip with you,” you said, “if you’ll have me, that is. I can help you study. What class is it?”

Theo hesitated. “It’s, uh, herbology. ‘m not very good with plants and all that.”

You grinned, “I can help! I’m not too bad with flowers and plants.”

Theo nodded, “yeah, I could really use the help.”

“Okay, you wanna go to the library then?”

Theo shook his head. “I’ve got a good spot. Come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

You followed him all the way out to the courtyard towards the opposite end of the school. You walked until you reach a large bench with intricate designs on the backing and arm rests. 

Theo took a seat. “Figured this would be good as any. Least now we can look at some plants up close, eh?”

You chuckled and took a seat next to him. “Yeah, sounds great, Theo. You got your textbook?”

He nodded and dug through his bag to pull it out. Once he handed it to you, you started flipping through the pages to get to the important material. 

“I’ve got the herbology exam 4th period, so I can help you study and it’ll help me study too! Win, win.”

Theo grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sounds good, doll.”

Your cheeks blushed. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. “I like when you call me doll.”

Your smile dropped. “Oh, geez, I did not mean to say that out loud.”

Theo’s face remained blank. That just made you more nervous. 

“Great, now I’ve weirded you out.” You exasperated. “I’m really sorry, Theo, I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m not weirded out, doll.” He cut you off. “Was just a little stunned is all. Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than it already was, but somehow it did. 

“Well, still,” you mumbled as you looked down at the textbook again, “sorry.”

Theo sat for a minute, watching as you flipped through the book. Your eyebrows furrowed a little in aggravation. You were annoyed at yourself for how stupid you were being. It was Theo for Salazar sake. 

Though, you couldn’t help but admire the boy. He was gorgeous, for one, but he was also charming and witty. He was sweet and generous. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him, but you had never thought he would see you in the same light. 

“(Y/N)?” Theo called. 

You looked up into his eyes. 

Theo stared at you, taking in each one of your features. Your eyes, your lips, your nose. You shifted a little, way too aware of his gaze on you. 

“Theo?” You called back. His gaze shifted back to your eyes. 

Before you could say anything, he softly spoke, “I’m the one sending you those letters, (Y/N/N).” 

You stared at him in shock. 

No way. 

“Y-you’re the one who wrote me the letters?” 

He slowly nodded his head. Theo’s lip was drawn in between his teeth. “Is, uh, are you disappointed?”

“What?” you exclaimed. 

He shrugged, “I mean, you just really seemed to like the letters, and I know you wanted to know who it was, so I just hope I haven’t disappointed you in the revelation.”

You shook your head. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”

Theo’s head shot up to look at you. “Really?”

You smiled and nodded. “Mhm, I like you Theo. I have for a while now, actually, I just thought you’d never give a chance.”

He laughed. “You thought I’d never give you a chance? I thought you’d never give me a chance.”

You laughed loudly together. When it finally subsided to quiet chuckles, you said,  “I really like you, Theo.”

Theo’s smile grew. In a quick moment, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. 

You gasped against his lips, and wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. His textbook fell off your lap as he pulled you closer by the waist. 

You kissed him until you couldn’t kiss anymore. Finally pulling back, Theo’s grin was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, even with his lips a little puffy from your kiss. 

“I really like you, Theodore.”

He grinned, “I really like you, more (Y/N).”

[daisywinchester]

Unspoken Truths- rafe cameron x reader

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You're Sarah's best friend, always around the Cameron household. You and Rafe seem to hate each other, but that hate seems to mask something else. Hiding things from your best friend is easy, right?

Word Count: 2330

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

You were nearly a Cameron at this point. Ever since you became Sarah’s best friend in middle school, you’d been a staple in the household. You practically lived at their place, even hanging out when Sarah’s not there. Ward teased you like one of his own kids, Rose always set an extra plate for you at dinner, and Wheezie idolized you. 

But then there was Rafe.  

Every time you were over, it felt like Rafe went out of his way to annoy you. Whether it was snarky comments, sarcastic digs, or rolling his eyes whenever you spoke, he was relentless. You gave it right back, of course, but it seemed like you couldn’t share the same space without bickering.  

“You know you don’t have to hang out here all the time,” Rafe said one afternoon, smirking as he walked past you. “It’s not like Sarah needs a shadow.”  

You crossed your arms. “And you don’t have to be such a jerk every time I’m here, but I guess we don’t always get what we want.”  

Sarah groaned from the couch. “Can you two just not for five minutes?”  

You glared at Rafe, and he shot you a smug look. Typical.  

It was almost as if you were always playing a game, trying to get under each other’s skin. There was something electric about the way you fought—too much intensity for simple disdain. 

---

It was one of those rare afternoons when the house was eerily quiet. Sarah had dragged John B off somewhere, and Wheezie was at a friend's. You were in the kitchen, scrolling on your phone, waiting for Sarah to text you when she was on her way back.  

“Don’t you have your own house?” Rafe’s voice made you jump.  

“Don’t you have any friends?” you shot back, glaring at him from across the room.  

He leaned against the counter, smirking. “You know, if you weren’t so annoying, you’d almost be tolerable.”  

“And if you weren’t such an arrogant jerk, you’d almost be decent.”  

It was meant to sting, but the way he looked at you, with that cocky tilt of his head and a hint of something deeper in his eyes, made your stomach flip.  

“You really don’t hate me, do you?” he asked, his voice dropping, the air between you thickening.  

“Excuse me?”  

Before you could process what was happening, Rafe stepped closer. His hand brushed yours on the counter, and the heat of his touch sent a shiver down your spine.  

“You’re always here, always around me. Maybe you’re just looking for an excuse to fight with me,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.  

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you whispered, but the tremble in your voice betrayed you.  

“Then tell me to stop,” he challenged, leaning in closer.

You didn’t.  

And when his lips met yours, it was like everything you’d been suppressing poured out all at once—fireworks, chaos, and clarity.  

---

You both agreed it couldn’t happen again. Sarah would never forgive you if she found out, and you valued her friendship too much.  

But it did happen again. And again. And again.  

Late-night stolen kisses. Shared smirks across the dinner table. The rush of sneaking around under everyone’s noses.  It was a thrill you both became addicted to.

After the first kiss you shared, it started with a midnight snack.  

You had snuck into the kitchen, tiptoeing past Sarah’s room, when you found Rafe already there, rummaging through the fridge.  

“Rafe?” you whispered, startled.  

He turned, smirking at your wide-eyed expression. “What? This is my house. You’re the one sneaking around.”  

Rolling your eyes, you reached for a glass from the cabinet. “Go back to bed before someone catches us both down here.”  

Instead, Rafe moved closer, arms wrapping around your waist while he was standing directly behind you as you poured yourself some water. 

“Why don’t you make me?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.  

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps.  

“Crap!” you hissed, shoving Rafe back into the pantry.  

Wheezie appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing?” 

“Uh, just grabbing some water,” you stammered, holding up your glass as evidence.  

She squinted at you, clearly unconvinced, but shrugged and went back to bed. Once the coast was clear, Rafe emerged, grinning like an idiot.  

“That was close,” he teased, pulling you into a quick kiss. 

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, but you kissed him back anyway

---

After too many close calls in the Cameron household, the boat house became your unofficial meeting spot, a place where you and Rafe could steal some time alone. One evening, you were tucked away in the corner, wrapped in his arms, when the sound of an engine startled you.  

“Who’s that?” you whispered, pulling away.  

“Probably Topper or Kelce,” Rafe said, peeking out the window. His expression shifted to panic. “Shit. It’s Sarah.”  

“Are you serious?!”  

“Hide!”  

You ducked behind a stack of equipment just as Sarah walked in, looking around suspiciously.  

“Rafe, what are you doing here?” she asked.  

“Just checking the boat,” he said casually. “What are you doing here?”  

“Looking for you. Dad’s asking about the quarterly report.”  

“Yeah, yeah I’ll get that to him,” Rafe nodded, glancing quickly in your direction to make sure you were still hidden. Sarah lingered for a moment before leaving.  

When she was gone, you stepped out, heart pounding.  

“We’re going to get caught,” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile at the adrenaline rush.

“Worth it,” Rafe replied, pulling you in for another kiss. 

The thrill of secrecy added a new layer to your relationship, but it also made it harder to ignore how hard you were falling for each other. You both liked the intimacy of just you two knowing, but you both knew if you kept this up you would need to tell Sarah eventually. Key word: eventually. 

Until one night, you were in Rafe’s room laying with him in his bed, lost in a deep, steamy kiss, when the door flew open.  

“Rafe, did you take my– What the hell is going on here?!” Sarah’s voice was like a bucket of ice water.  

You scrambled apart, faces flushed. Rafe’s hand lingered on your arm protectively as Sarah stared between you, betrayal written all over her face.  

“How long has this been going on?” she demanded.  

“It’s not what it looks like,” you started, but Sarah cut you off. 

“Oh, so you weren’t making out with my brother in his room?” You were at a loss for words, mouth agape and eyes darting between Sarah and Rafe.

The commotion drew the rest of the family. Ward raised an eyebrow, and Rose looked pleasantly surprised. Even Wheezie seemed delighted.  

“I knew it!” she squealed, as Sarah turned around and glared at her. Ward put a hand on her shoulder and guided her and Rose away from your situation.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Out of all the people in the world, you pick him?” 

“Sarah, back off her. I’m just as involved as she is,” Rafe tried stepping in.

You both tried to explain, but Sarah wouldn’t hear it. She felt betrayed– and a bit jealous as well that she was sharing your attention with her brother. 

For her sake, you and Rafe decided to call it off.  

He walked you out of the house as you decided to go back to your own place for the night to give Sarah some space. The warm, sticky air felt heavy, mirroring the weight in your chest. Rafe stood a few feet away, hands stuffed in his pockets, staring at the ground.  

“This isn’t what I want,” he said, his voice low and strained.  

“Me neither,” you replied, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying. 

“Sarah—”  

“Sarah’s my best friend. I can’t lose her, Rafe,” you whispered.  

He nodded, jaw clenching as he tried to keep his composure. “I get it.”  

The silence between you was deafening, filled with the unspoken truth that you weren’t walking away because you wanted to. You were walking away because you felt like you had to.  

“I—” you started, but Rafe shook his head.  

“Don’t,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “If you say it, I won’t let you go.”  

And just like that, it was over.  

---

The weeks that followed were miserable. You avoided the Camerons, knowing it would hurt too much to see Rafe. You hadn’t talked to Sarah since, just ran into her once when you ran out of your favorite snack and you saw each other at the store. You saw her eyes soften when she took in the state of you– eyes puffy from crying, tangled hair thrown up in a bun, overall little to care for your appearance. Her chest filled with guilt seeing you so heartbroken. She assumed it was from ending your friendship, she didn’t realize you experienced two heartbreaks that night.

And Rafe, for once, was uncharacteristically subdued.  

Sarah was the first to notice something was off with Rafe. At first, she thought it was just him being his usual moody self, but as the days turned into weeks, she couldn’t ignore the change. He stopped hanging out with his friends, skipping their usual golf outings and boat rides. Never one to miss a party, she was struck when partygoers asked her where her brother was. When he was around, he was short-tempered and distant, retreating to his room for hours on end. Even Ward, who was usually too busy to notice, pulled Sarah aside one evening.  

“Have you talked to your brother lately?” he asked. “He’s... not himself.”  

Sarah brushed it off at first, but the longer it went on, the harder it was to ignore.  

One afternoon, Sarah barged into Rafe’s room without knocking, finding him sprawled on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.  

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” she demanded.  

“Nothing,” Rafe mumbled, not even looking at her. 

“Bull. You’ve been acting like someone ran over your dog for weeks.”  

Rafe sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. “Just drop it, Sarah.”  

“No. You’re not fine, and it’s freaking everyone out. What’s your problem?”  

His eyes flickered with frustration, but underneath it, there was something else—pain.  

“You’re my problem,” he snapped.  

Sarah blinked, taken aback. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  

Rafe stood up, pacing the room. “You made her break up with me. You made us break up. And now...” He trailed off, his voice breaking.  

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Wait. This is about her? You’re still hung up on—”  

“Yes, Sarah! God, yes!” Rafe exploded. “I love her, okay? And now she won’t even look at me because of you!”  His confession hit her like a punch to the gut.  

“I didn’t realize—” she started, but Rafe cut her off.  

“You don’t get it. She’s the only person who made me feel like I wasn’t just some screw-up. And I lost her because you couldn’t handle the idea of us being together.”  

For the first time, Sarah saw past Rafe’s bravado to the raw, broken pieces underneath. She realized she’d never seen him like this—not for anyone, not even the flings he pretended to care about.  

That night, Sarah couldn’t sleep. Rafe’s words echoed in her head, and she replayed every moment of your relationship with him—the stolen glances she hadn’t noticed before, the way his eyes lit up when you were around, the shift in his demeanor after you ended things.  

She thought back to how happy you’d both seemed, how natural it was to have you at the house, and how that happiness had vanished the second she made you break up.  

Sarah prided herself on being protective of the people she loved, but now she wondered if she’d gone too far.  

---

You finally got up from your couch to answer whoever was relentlessly knocking at your front door, opening it to see Sarah Cameron with a pleading look on her face.

“Can we talk?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “What is it?

She hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I screwed up.”  

“What are you talking about?”  

“I shouldn’t have made you and Rafe break up,” she admitted, her voice soft.  

Your heart clenched. “Sarah, I didn’t want to hurt you—”  

“I know,” she interrupted. “But I was selfish. I didn’t think about how much you two actually care about each other. I just thought... I don’t know what I thought.”  

She looked at you, guilt written all over her face. “I’ve never seen Rafe like this. He’s... broken. And honestly? So are you.”  

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “Sarah...”  

“If you still love him—and I think you do—you should be with him,” she said firmly. “I’ll get over it. I just want you both to be happy.”  

“Are you serious?” Sarah didn’t miss the way a light had come back to your eyes.

“Dead serious. Just… promise me you’ll keep the PDA to a minimum,” she added with a smirk.  

That evening, you found yourself back at the Cameron house, standing on the porch, heart pounding. Sarah opened the door and called for Rafe. You heard him huff at her and mutter something under his breath as Sarah stepped away and Rafe pulled back open the door. His eyes widened at the sight of you, his expression shifting from surprise to cautious hope.  

“Hey,” you said softly. 

“Hey,” he replied, his voice cracking slightly.  

“Didn’t think I’d see you here again,” he said softly. 

“Sarah gave us her blessing,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But, I’m sorry,” you hung your head down. “I should’ve fought for us.”  

“Hey, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” Without another word, Rafe closed the space between you, pulling you into his arms like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.  

And this time, you didn’t have to hide. 

[yesimwriting]

Normalcy

A/n deadpool and wolverine drabble bc the movie was a little too good

Summary: Still reeling from the loss of your powers, you struggle to hold it together inside the TVA's void. Thankfully, you find an uncharacteristically peaceful distraction in your old friend Deadpool and in the wolverine variant who wants nothing to do with you.

Warnings/info: reader is a (former) avenger (bc i love the avengers <3), reader is described as having similar powers to wanda and having trained with her (bc i love wanda), implied beginning of an accidental love triangle if you squint ig, maybe too much lore for a drabble (?), me writing for characters for the first time so be nice 😭

----

The lines etched into your palms do not bend and twist to spell out secrets, there are no messages worth decoding pressed into your skin. Knowing this is not enough to stop you from staring at your hands like if you could just think about it hard enough...

"There you are, Peanut." The words are so warm you're briefly pulled out of your internal angst. You straighten, head lifting slightly and arms crossing in front of your chest. "Thought I lost you."

Wade continues forward until he's directly in front of you. He pauses, watching you with an unabashed openness that you'd only ever allow him to get away with. "Kidding," he tries, "I'd never lose you."

The familiarity of the casual affection eases you further, the corner of your mouth tugging itself upwards. "I was like 15 feet away from you."

"Sorry for caring." It's his go to comeback when it comes to defending the displays of affection you have the audacity to find overdramatic.

You blink, lips parting despite your lack of response. The world has felt a little slower these last few days, moving at a pace that leaves you with no choice but to reflect. Maybe it's the void.

"Hey," his voice feels a little flatter without his usual humor, "Are you okay?"

You let out a breath, shocked by this new low. Sure, you've known Wade for awhile and you've both seen each other through plenty of stages, but he's never felt the need to attempt a genuine pep talk for you. He's never struck you as the pep talk sort...for anyone. Do you really seem that off?

It's bad enough that your identity crisis has stolen the abilities that would have helped your trio pop out of the void with no real fanfare, you can't also make your insecurities everyone else's problem. "Yeah." The response doesn't feel convincing, but with Wade wearing the Deadpool mask, it's hard to be sure. "Just y'know...we're in a void and our reality might be ripped apart, so I've been better."

He's still watching you with a level of focus that's unnerving. You've gotten used to his familiarity, his lack of care for personal space or the social rules around watching people. "You're doing it again."

"Seducing you with my ability to have a heart to heart while looking this good in my suit?"

You sigh in an attempt to dismiss your slight smile. Happy or sad, superhero that once fought Thanos or regular person that can't regulate their emotions, Wade always treats you the same. "The staring thing. You said you'd stop."

"No, you said I'd stop." The correction is a return to what you're used to. He takes a step towards you, his proximity now forcing you to tilt your chin up slightly to look him in the eye. "I'd never promise to look at you less."

"Comforting."

He angles his chin downwards, making the limited distance feel more significant. "I thought so." For a moment, he's quiet in a way that doesn't feel very him. "Are you sure you're...good?" His hesitance is another reminder that this is far out of his element. "I know this is your first..." Wade's rarely careful, only ever treading lightly on the one subject you never want to bring. "Outing, since..."

"I lost my powers."

Wade goes quiet again. If this conversation is as inevitable as it seems, a part of you wishes it could have come up elsewhere. Maybe in your shared apartment, definitely without the mask so you could better interpret his reactions. It's not often you keep secrets from him, but the hollowness you feel knowing the part of yourself you've lost isn't something you can just share.

It's more than just about missing your party tricks, it's about losing a part of yourself. They were all that was left of your time with the Avengers, of what Wanda taught you before Westview.

He lets out a breath. "They're not lost." You raise your eyebrows slightly, giving him a look meant to caution him against sympathetic optimism. "We don't know that."

He seems so happy to be able to tell you that there's no proof that any and all magical abilities have been flushed out of your system, you don't have it in you to remind him that that's mainly because you have no one to ask. What's left of the Avengers and your government connections either barely understand what you were or are untrustworthy.

"Educated wish?"

His mask muffles a slight gasp. You press your lips together in an attempt to resist smiling. "The last one worked out great."

Your eyebrows pull together skeptically, a reminder that the two of you are still technically in the middle of the last educated wish he attempted to speak into existence. "Didn't Wolverine stab you multiple times--"

He cuts you off with a heavy sigh. "If I took getting stabbed personally, do you know where we'd be?"

In a reality where Wade holds grudges over those kinds of things, you wouldn't be anything to each other, except maybe enemies. You've never pulled a knife or sword or anything sharp on him, but when you first met he did startle you before you had a total grip on your abilities, which resulted in him getting thrown through a wall.

"I never stabbed you."

His hand finds your shoulder. You let him drag his thumb against against the fabric of your suit. "And that's how I know you really love me, Peanut."

You roll your eyes in an attempt to dislodge the warmth that settles in the pit of your stomach. The last thing Wade needs is encouragement. "I mean, I do go around stabbing everyone I like less than you."

He lets out a sound that feels like a scoff attempting to mask itself as a dry laugh. "There's the sense of humor that'd hurt me if I knew you less."

"Well--"

He squeezes your shoulder, "I know you." Okay. You'll let him have this one because maybe there's some truth to what he's saying. "I'm going to go check on the car, because a fucking Honda Odyssey would break down on us for no reason before we got to the fight."

"For no reason or because of the bitch fight you and Wolverine had in it?"

There's a beat of silence in which all you can do is try to imagine Wade's expression behind the mask. You'd like to think that he's smiling. "Oh, Pumpkin." He sighs as if you've stumbled onto saying something terribly naive. "It wasn't a bitch fight, it was awesome, and probably turned you on."

You deadpan a flat, "You caught me." He hasn't let go of your shoulder, and a part of you is oddly glad for it. "I'd offer you help with the car, but..."

You're self aware enough to acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses, car maintenance being the latter. Wade doesn't even let you get your oil changed by yourself anymore.

"I've met you." He squeezes your shoulder again, the gesture weirdly stabilizing. "Give me 15 minutes to actually look at the car and then I'm all yours."

Wade lets go of you, his arm falling to his side. "Aren't you always?"

He lets out an exaggerated gasp. "You're making me feel cheaper than my usual rate, Peanut."

You smile as he turns away. Things are always a little easier with Wade. It's more than just distraction, it's his way of making things feel a little lighter. You're not sure what to do with your 15 minutes of solitude to avoid falling back into self pity.

You originally broke away from the group of void trapped heroes under the premise of needing fresh air, but even here, with the expansive, sparsely wooded area at your disposal, the oxygen in your lungs still feels flat. If Wanda were around, you'd be able to ask if she felt the strangeness of this other plane of existence as well. At least then you'd know if your dislike of the void is only mental or an actual sign of life from your abilities.

You begin to walk forward, hoping to shed all thoughts of both your former self and the eeriness of this other world. There are other people you could talk to you. The others have been polite enough, or at the very least, passionate enough to be talked into facing Cassandra.

The trees you've been wandering through grow in their sparsity, the edge of the woods revealing a patch of grassland highlighted by a fire's warm glow. You squint past the tree line, attempting to make out the figure sitting in front of the flames. Wolverine.

Secluded from the group and staring at a campfire. Surprising. Though, you guess it's not fair to judge him too harshly, you left the group to brood as well.

He doesn't like you, doesn't know you well enough to dislike you, but it took him no time to find a way to get around that. Maybe it's your proximity to Wade. You've done your best to take his hostility as un-personally as possible. You've seen enough people you really care about go through the guilt ridden, fallen hero thing to know how deep that kind of hurt runs.

You've never known a Wolverine or Logan Howlett variant, so you have no way of knowing what he was like before. Sure, you've heard stories, but you're also overly aware of how the media can twist and turn those stories to fit their narrative. One day, a superhero is the world's greatest protector, and the next their the greatest menace. Maybe he was always a little dark, or maybe he wasn't.

"Don't just stand there." The gruffness of his voice startles you more than it should.

Heat crawls up your neck, a part of you more embarrassed than you should be. You weren't lurking, or at the very least, you weren't trying to.

You sigh as you abandon the safety of the tree line. "Sorry." He turns his head away from the fire. "I wasn't--I was just walking."

He's quiet for such a long moment you almost expect him to not respond at all. "Without your shadow?"

Wow, only a halfhearted dig at Wade. You must have caught him in a good mood. "Friend, and he's looking at the car. I'd be looking at the car with him, but I figured the odds for tomorrow are bad enough as is."

Another uneasy stretch of silence. "Yeah." There's not much, if anything, to take from the comment. "If you're here to convince me to go with you guys tomorrow--"

"I'm not." It's an honest answer. You had been walking around aimlessly and happened to stumble onto him. "I'm not into the pep talk thing." He scoffs, the sound lacking in genuine aggression. "What?"

He lifts his gaze from the fire, his eyes settling on some point past the horizon. "I thought you were an Avenger."

You're not sure what bugs you more, the fact that he's so sure he has you all figured out or the implication that the Avengers spend their days encouraging each other instead of actually doing things. What the Avengers are--or maybe were--is so much more than that.

You step forward, further separating you from the cluster of trees. "The Avengers are about a lot more than that."

His attention briefly shifts onto you before returning to the flames. If the silence is meant to be dismissive, it doesn't feel that way. There's a patience there that doesn't suit his usual brooding.

"Do you care if I sit?" The question is forced out before you can overthink it. "I promise no inspirational speeches or small talk."

After a beat, he dips his chin downwards in a nod so subtle you would have missed it if you had been watching him any less carefully. You're more relieved by his acceptance than you should be, your feet carrying you towards the campfire.

You sit at a polite distance, knees bent in front of you. His silence seems to push against the void's sluggishness. Maybe the issue has been you fighting this world's momentum.

"Why are you with him?" You're not sure if you're more shocked by the question or the break in silence. When all you can do is blink, he continues, "You seem--" He subtly clears his throat, as if struggling to admit this next part, "Nice, normal."

Oh. If you had been focused, you likely would have got what he meant without the clarification. "I know Wade's a lot--especially to you." You place a hand against your knee, thinking about that very specific safety you only feel with Wade. You don't have to try at being anything, or worry about earning your keep in any capacity. "But once you get to know him, he's a good friend."

You look away from the fire pit in time to see the skeptical look Logan throws in your direction. "I'm serious." His expression doesn't change. "He um--after I stopped being important to everyone else, he still liked me ." This isn't the conversation you wanted to stumble onto, especially not with someone who you barely know and actively dislikes you. "That sounds kind of dumb, but the point is, he's loyal."

He turns his head back towards the fire. "You always call him by his name." The observation is so stiff you'd consider it hesitant if it came from anyone else.

You've never thought much about Wade's name. Part of it is familiarity, and the rest of it is a force of habit. Even when you were with the Avengers, you preferred using actual names when off duty. It's easier to separate the mask from the person beneath it when you make an active effort to.

You shrug. "I'm not into off duty superhero names, Wolverine."

He falls silent again. You concentrate on the flames, the way they illuminate the world around you. "You can--" He cuts himself off, attention never wavering from the fire. "You can call me Logan, if you want."

An unsteady warmth roots itself in your chest. You didn't expect any sort of kinship between you and the wolverine Wade stole from some other timeline beyond him occasionally accepting your attempts at creating peace between him and Wade.

"Okay," you focus on keeping your tone measured, avoiding any emotions that might startle him, "Logan."

There's no tension in the quiet that follows. You let the minutes pass until you're certain that Wade's waiting for an interruption disguised as an attempt to help. "I should go, Wade's probably waiting for me."

You push yourself to stand. You let yourself glance at him one last time before turning towards the trees you emerged from.

[kangnoeulsdoll]

Rooftop Confessional.

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・

Kang No-eul x Fem!reader

synopsis: When No-Eul calls you up to the restricted school rooftop you know it's a bad move - but her otherworldly allure is just too irresistible. With the dying sun illuminating, stolen kisses pollute the boundary between danger and appetite, drawing you to speculate whether these hidden encounters are worth the risk or whether they hold a meaning far beyond mere passion.

a/n: I fear I’m so obsessed with No-eul to the point I wanna start writing for her actress.

warnings! slightly suggestive makeout on the rooftop.

𐙚₊˚🪷⊹ ᰔ

"Rooftop after class?"

It was a bad notion, and deep down you felt that it was so. The rooftop wasn't something you were allowed to go up to, technically, and if one of the teachers saw you, it would all be your fault, alongside hers. Something in No-Eul just made logical reasoning a hazy distant memory. Probably, it was due to the fact that her eyes sparkled with mischief, or that she was daring with almost everything.

Now, as you hauled up onto your bag, you tried to ignore the way she watched you from across the room-she lay backwards in her seat, her legs stretched under the desk and her chin propped against her hand. Eventually you looked her way, she grinned, tilting her head just the tiniest amount in the direction of the door.

You'd hesitated a moment, swinging your bag over your shoulder before you headed out. No-Eul was waiting by the door, leaning against the frame with her bag slung off one shoulder and hanging lazy.

"Took you long enough," she teased. Her voice came low, smooth.

Impossible, you are," you mumbled, but your voice rose with the first flicker of a smile.

"Maybe," she said, straightening up. "But you still showed up."

She takes him out and calmly walks him to the halland, pretending that he's ordinary. These two stayed at a distance, with each other, until they got to the stairwell. Having taken a hasty glance over her back to check her sanctuary, No-Eul grabs hold of your wrist and is pulling you upstairs. With clenched teeth, you hissed at the sound behind you, in horror.

"Relax," she said, a grin tugging at her lips. "No one ever comes up here."

The rooftop door sighed open, and there you stood in a bracing blast of fresh air and the radiant glow of the dying sun. Below, the city lay out in glistening shades of orange and pink.

Specifically, No-Eul took a step out, she stood next to the railing and looked at the sight. "Told you it's worth it," she said, looking back to you with that smug smile of hers.

You huffed, getting closer but remaining a couple of feet away from the other. "One of these days, we're going to get caught."

She laughed, the top of her head shaking lightly as she looked at you. "You've been saying that for weeks. Still here, though."

"Maybe I'm just waiting for you to learn your lesson," you shot back.

Perhaps," she said, closing the distance between you in several steps, "you enjoy a bit of excitement.

Your breath hitched, because she stopped right in front of you, and rested cool hands in the flaps of her blazer. She tilted her head to the side, her dark eyes looking directly at yours.

"Admit it," she said, her voice soft, though the words were teasing and her expression serious.

You crossed your arms, trying to suppress the beating of your heart. "Admit what?"

"That you can't resist me," she returned, her mouth curving with a smirk.

how close she was.

"Am I wrong?" she whispered.

All you did was lean down, pressing your lips against hers. At first, it was a rather cautious kiss but it was not going to stay so. No-Eul's grip on your waist squeezed you tight against her and pressed harder on the lips sealing both, hers and yours.

Intoxicating-the way her lips danced against yours, that subtle hint of perfume she wore, the excitement of being up here with her when you knew you shouldn't be. Your hands somehow found their ways to her shoulders, sliding up to tangle in her hair. She hummed in approval, her lips curving in a smile against yours as she kissed you again, this time slower.

At last you two were nearly out of breath. No-Eul rested her forehead against your cheek, while her thumbs drew lazy circles on your lower abdomen.

"You're trouble," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

She chuckled, the smirk returning as she looked at you. "And you like trouble."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. I have no idea why I agreed to do this with you.

"Because I'm irresistible," she said, her grin spreading.

"Sure," you said, rolling your eyes, though the heat in your chest betrayed you.

You stood with contentment in the comfortable quiet, the refreshing breeze caressing your hair. No-Eul slumped back against the railing, pulling you with her and you were standing there in between her and the edge of the rooftop.

The town below lit in the last-but-one ghostly candlelight, and for that instant in the world, there were two of all the people in the galaxy.

"Hey," she said suddenly subdued.

You look up to her, raising an eyebrow at this sudden subdued tone in her.

"I'm serious," she says, her eyes locking with yours. If we ever happen to be caught… I mean, well, it's not the end of the world, right?

You frowned. "What are you trying to say?"

She shrugged, hands still resting on your hips. "I just mean… this is worth it. You're worth it."

Your cheeks went with the flush of her words, and in a rare occurrence, you were at a loss for words. No-Eul seemed to notice, because she grinned, swooping in again to kiss you once more. This time however it was gentler, slower, as if she was just basking and soaking it all up.

She leaned her forehead against yours for the second time when she withdrew, returning to that smirk.

"See? You're a horrible liar."

You laughed and it must have travelled down across the roof. "You're impossible," you said, and it was without real venom.

"And yet," she replied, her hands sliding up to cup your face as if we'd never paused, "you keep coming back."

And she wasn't wrong. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that this was a bad idea, you knew you'd be back here with her again tomorrow.

[depravityfever]

Phantom Troupe: Love Languages

warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, kidnapped reader

Chrollo: Quality time

compared to his fellow Troupe members, Chrollo is much more experimental. he tries out every love language and settles on whichever wooes you easiest. he doesn’t mind whichever one that ends up being since it’ll serve as a tool to make you more affectionate towards him. he acknowledges the merits of constantly having a hand on you, even if it makes you scowl and push him away, because he’s confident you’ll crave his touch soon enough. expensive jewelry and perfume is bestowed on you to show off how well he can provide for you, but it becomes a bit of a challenge to accept a gift when you know it was acquired through either stealing or dirty money. if he had to choose his personal favorite, he’d go for simply being in your presence. there’s a feeling of satisfaction when you two are near, even if you aren’t interacting. this feeling increases tenfold when you indulge him with conversation, which is a common occurrence due to his tendency of never shutting up when you’re around. he’ll constantly ask questions designed to earn your attention and give lengthy answers in response. every sentence you form is soaked up by him; he wants to grasp your every belief and experience until he can understand you in your entirety.

Feitan: Gift giving

Feitan does view you in a positive light, albeit begrudgingly. when he first kidnaps you, he thinks instilling fear might do some good. it takes some time, but eventually he’ll get bored of your fearful reactions and want you to genuinely like him back. he’ll try to be slightly kinder towards you, like giving you an awkward pat on the head or making a joke about breaking your fingers when he forces his hand into yours (and giving a pointed stare when you don’t laugh). when you shrink away from him instead of beaming at the contact, he realizes that constantly threatening you didn’t exactly make you very fond of him. thus, he begins to try and directly show you how nice he’s being. most – if not all – of his gifts are belongings stolen from his victims. each item will have to meet Feitan’s rather high standards because, while it does embarrass him, he wants you to be impressed by the lengths he went for you. sometimes, he gets so giddy at the thought of your reaction that he forgets to wash the blood off the trinkets before giving them to you. he grumbles and sulks for the rest of the day at your terrified look in response instead of a lengthy expression of gratitude.

Machi: Acts of service

On one hand, Machi wants to make it obvious she’s not a threat and cares for you, but on the other, she struggles with being vulnerable in front of you. this conflict causes her great confusion on what to do. she’ll be watching you perform your daily tasks while she stares at you with this internal war raging in her mind. by her expression, you might think she’s glaring at you and upset because of something you did wrong, when in reality she just isn’t sure what to do with you. while she’s battling with her inner thoughts and staring you down, she’ll notice unhealthy habits of yours. surely, your sugar intake is higher than what’s healthy. if you continue like that, it’ll become a detriment to your health. much to your confusion, you’ll find your favorite snacks replaced by some knock-off low sugar version. and even though Machi may not be a world-class chef, she puts effort into your meals consisting of a healthy mix of carbs, protein and fiber (though she isn’t opposed to you cooking instead if you want to, the domesticity of the concept flustering her). it’s little actions like these that already have Machi expressing how much she cares for you, all while in her head she’s still undecided on how she should show she loves you.

Nobunaga: Words of affirmation

Nobunaga has a talent for managing to morph everything you say and do into an indirect way of you expressing your adoration for him. you can constantly repeat how you don’t love him back and never will, but he brushes it off as you being hormonal or confused due to the circumstances of the relationship. for him, it's a blessing since he won’t have to deal with rejection, but for you it's a curse since none of your feelings will be validated. on a daily basis, you have to deal with Nobunaga's ramblings while he suffocates you with affection. if it were anyone else, being told you’re perfect in every way and you were made to be with me might be romantic, but with Nobunaga it just feels gross and icky. he likes telling you stories about his observations back when he was stalking you, always mixing in a you looked so good in that outfit or something of the sort like it’ll do any good at making you like him. you assume he must think he’s being romantic by recalling the perfume you were wearing that day and complimenting it, when in reality it just makes your stomach churn. you can only sigh when he starts going on another spiel about how destined you two are, your lack of physical resistance only further proving to him you don’t hate him nearly as as much as you say you do.

Pakunoda: Quality time

Pakunoda believes that spending time together is the best way for people to grow fond of each other. she can appreciate the silent side by side type, but her favorite is when you two are actively engaging with one another. she always has ideas for activities you two could do together and almost always agrees to any of your own. due to her “job”, she has more than enough money to indulge you in anything you can come up with. she’ll take you to all types of cute cafés and listen intently while you ramble about whatever’s currently on your mind, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. even before meeting you, Pakunoda already had an extensive beauty care routine, one she insists you participate in too. she loves the intimacy of assisting each other with it, holding your hand in hers while she files your nails, or having her face close to yours while she does your make-up, the brush stroking your skin. while she does genuinely enjoy the time she spends for you, it also serves a more nefarious purpose. she hopes that because of how often you two are socializing, you’ll ignore the less appealing parts of the relationship so your heart can grow as fond of her as hers is of you.

Phinks: Physical touch

Phinks loves the feeling of skin to skin contact with you, but he’s not so delusional as to think you’ll immediately start leaning into his touch. he knows you’re unhappy at the current situation (he is a little, too, much rather having a normal relationship with you, but he saw this as the only viable option, even if it’s undesirable). he wants to live out the fantasies in his head so badly, but the lucid part of him knows it’ll only have you hating him more and ruin your relationship even further. during the early stages, he completely listens to this rational part of himself and doesn’t act on the scenarios in his head due to not wanting to scare you off. it’s clear why he kidnapped you considering he’s always getting flustered in your vicinity and trying so hard to provide for and impress you. you might raise an eyebrow at his avoidance of touching you, but you’ll internally be thankful. if Phinks decides you’ve calmed down enough at the whole situation, he’ll slowly begin to get more handsy. he begins by simply having one of his hands on a body part that couldn’t be perceived as sexual, gradually increasing how long he lingers and where it’s placed. he tries to be subtle, but his hand is shaking the entire time and if you catch him in the act he’ll immediately pull away and refuse to make eye contact while his cheeks are dusted pink, so he’s not very smooth with it. if you reject his touches, he’ll back off for some time only to continue his previous progress later, hoping you’ll have forgotten the last time. in his head, both of you are happy this way: he still gets to have contact with you while you have your boundaries respected. in reality, he’s the only happy one.

Shalnark: Physical touch

can’t keep his hands to himself and sees no reason to. in Shalnarks mind, physical contact is an important part of a romantic relationship, and according to him, well, you two are pretty much dating, one-sided as it may be. part of the reason why he’ll constantly be touching you is because he does care for you in his own messed up way. to him, physical proximity just so happens to come as the most natural way of expressing it. whether it be forcing you into a kiss or absentmindedly groping at your flesh, it always manages to make him feel so ecstatic that he can finally shed the mask of normalcy he had to wear prior to taking you. the other half of the reason is because it always has you giving all of your attention to him. you can ignore his incessant whines at your lack of focus towards him and maybe even stay strong when he starts to revoke certain privileges, but you can only take so much roaming of his hands before you get uncomfortable and snap. prying his hands off and glaring at him will just be met with a boyish smile, one that oozes I win. because to Shalnark, attention is attention when you’re involved, regardless of if it’s negative or positive.

Shizuku: Physical touch

you might be surprised at how touchy (and also selfish) Shizuku can be. you don’t know what you were supposed to expect when she took you away from your regular life for her own desires, but considering her personality, it wasn’t that she would constantly force you into intimacy. you can sputter and try to lecture her on decency as much as you see fit, but it’ll likely go in one ear and out the other; she just doesn’t really care. part of the reason she kidnapped you was for pure convenience. you’re here now anyway, your personal space doesn’t matter much – it's more about what she wants, and if you happen to also profit from it, that’s great, but it’s not exactly her priority. sharing a bed with her will just have her pulling your body flush against hers. you can try to claw her off, but her strength far surpasses yours and it won’t be long before she’s softly snoring near your ear. she likes constantly holding your hand, not letting go even when you want to get up or your hand starts feeling clammy in hers. sure, you might be a little unhappy at how she keeps commanding you to touch her, or the way she’ll embrace you without asking or giving you notice, but you comply nonetheless, so does it really matter?

[dilfluvrr10]

Hello can you write a smut about virgin joost x virgin reader? Thankss

I wrote this pretty quickly so ignore any errors but this one's for all the horny bastards out there. I see you.

Stolen Glances ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

CW: Nsfw, age gap

word count: 2.5k

(I was writing from 1st person than kept randomly switching to 2nd person when I was thinking of Joost's pov, she's a little messy sorry)

My thoughts ran wild as I chewed on the end of my pencil. I was supposed to be revising for my biology exam tomorrow, but how could I when a man as heart throbbing as Joost was sat right in front of me. My father was a well-established manager who had represented the biggest musicians of my time. He had reached out to Joost after his breakthrough single ‘Friesenjung’ and together they had boosted Joost’s international stardom to new levels. My father always had a good eye for talent. They had developed a close bond over the short time they had worked together, my father, a clever and creative man who never stifled Joost’s artistry. Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always been involved in his work, going on tour, tagging along for press and having a string of musicians over at our house constantly. But this was different. Maybe it was just hormones or whatever, a part of growing up, or maybe it was because father was particularly fond of him, or maybe it was the way he always acknowledged me. I don’t know what it was, but he made me feel things I’ve never felt before.

He sat directly in front of me, discussing marketing for his next song, a favourable topic for both Joost and my father. They had been at it for hours, going back and forth intently at our dining room table when I walked in- deciding I wanted to do my work in more ‘natural light’. Of course, I just wanted to be around Joost, his entire demeanour utterly intoxicating to me. I sat at the end of our long dining table, and with my father’s back turned to me, I couldn’t resist stealing glances at Joost every chance I got. In a daze, I admired the way his brows subconsciously furrowed a little in concentration, the way he talked so expressively with his hands. His hands. My mind gradually became clouded with thoughts of his hands roaming my body, what his hands would look like around my neck. I bit down harder on the pencil, almost touching lead. Discreetly, I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together, feining for any pressure down there.

Joost could feel your eyes swallowing him whole. It was nothing new to him now, you always had your beautiful doe eyes plastered to him. He had no problem with the admiration you gave him, he understood your young curiosity. He also understood he could never act on it, could never betray his manager like that. Touching his daughter in all the places she daydreamed about, taking a bit of her sweet innocence away all for himself. No. He’d stay out of your way, be kind to you in other ways, like helping with your school work (even though he was hopeless in his own high school days) and making sure you weren’t too stressed with exams by making you laugh whenever he could. You had been staring at him for quite a while now, you must’ve been particularly horny today, he thought to himself. A slight smirk nipping at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair and adjusted his pants around his crotch knowing you’ll catch it.

I nearly threw up as he moved in his chair, legs spread as he leaned back adjusting his pants. My eyes grew wide with embarrassment when I noticed Joost’s gaze flicker towards me, evident he knew the affect he had on me. In a panic I hurriedly ran to my room. Tears welled in my eyes at the thought of Joost realising how I felt about him, all he’d ever been to me was kind and now he’s going to think of me as some naive girl with a hopeless crush on him. I cried, regret and humiliation in every drop that soaked my pillow. How could I have been so careless with my feelings?

A light knock at my bedroom door had awoken me from my tear-fueled slumber. Vaguely disorientated, I searched around for my phone. The bright, white light illuminated the room: 9:15pm. “Shit” I wasn’t meant to sleep all day. Groggily, I got to my feet and shuffled over to the door, questioning who it might be.

Joost could tell you had been crying, your eyes red-rimmed and still slightly swollen. He hated seeing you like this, “oh, I’m sorry did I wake you?” his voice soft and concerned.

“Joost…no, no it’s fine...everything okay?” the back of my throat burned, and my voice was faintly raspy.

“You left your things on the table, I just thought I’d drop them off before I went to bed,” he handed me my textbook and laptop but lingered in the doorway as if he had something else to say.

“Are you okay? You’ve been in your room since lunch, tell me what’s going on,” Joost always carried a comforting energy, I felt like I could tell him anything. But not this.

“Oh yeah I was up late last night, got really tired I guess,” followed by a small awkward laugh. Joost stood tall in front of me, having to look up to talk to him filled me with dirty thoughts. He wore a white tank, plaid pyjama pants and his night prescription glasses. His hair scruffy, signalling he had already been in bed. I began questioning the intentions of Joost’s visit, did he really just want to return my things? This late at night? No matter how guilty I felt, I couldn’t shake the butterflies growing in my stomach at the tension between us.

He looked down at you, you were avoiding eye contact now, your leg bouncing nervously and your fingers tapping the door where you held it open. Oh how shy he made you, how vulnerable and yielding. He felt bad after what had happened today, he contemplated for hours in bed if he should make it up to you tonight or just let it be. But seeing you now made it an easy choice.

“You know, I really don’t mind” he almost whispered, tilting his head and stepping ever so slightly closer. I glanced up once again, confusion and anticipation coursing through me. “Mind what?” I asked through a clueless façade. He shook his head, slowly stepping forward until he was completely in the confines of my bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. Just me and him. “I see the way you look at me…I’ve seen the way you cross your legs in the process” a wild smile danced over his lips, that’s when I realised this was all wildly funny to him. The entire time I’ve been losing my fucking mind over this man- he had been totally and utterly aware and amused. I scoffed at his upfront words, “God, what are you talking about Joost. You’re crazy, what are you getting at-” I was abruptly cut off by Joost’s huge hands firmly placed on my arms, pushing me back towards my bed.

“Sit.” With your lips still slightly parted with the ghost of whatever bullshit you were carrying on about, you obeyed, looking down into your lap and fidgeting with your fingers. Your surge of false confidence had been his last straw. He was going to give you whatever you wanted, all you had to do was tell him. He traced a tender finger along your jawline, he glimpsed your eyelashes fluttering from his angle, felt your breath hitch. He lifted your chin with his index finger, Those gorgeous eyes shimmering wide with unspoken desire.

Already, I was going to absolutely crumble under Joost’s very minimal touch. His fingers barely grazing my skin were well enough to send shivers cascading down my spine. I was timid and taken aback but at the same time I craved more; I wanted to feel him everywhere. “What were you saying?” he flashed another one of his cheeky grins I loved so much. His sly comment made me laugh this time around, turning the tense atmosphere surprisingly warm. He sat down next to me, causing fleeting touches of our arms and thighs. I was enveloped in his familiar scent, calming my nerves further. He placed a hand on my thigh, his tattooed finger drawing delicate circles as he spoke. “Let me give you what you want” his voice was low and hummed a beautiful harmony. I’d imagined this scenario countless times ever since I first laid eyes on my Joost. He had no idea what I’d let him do to me.

“Just be gentle,” the sweet sound of your consent aroused Joost more than he ever could’ve imagined. He wrapped his other hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in inches from him. With his thumb he caressed your bottom lip, your breathing heavy and erratic against every move he made. “I wouldn’t be anything else for you” he uttered softly, his words dripping with reassurance before grabbing your face and placing a light kiss over your needy lips.

For me, this small kiss was a revelation. The taste of him, the feeling of a mans lips pressed against mine while his hands caressed my body, it was a rush of sensations I’ve never experienced before. He lightly pecked my lips once more before smashing hungrily into me, kissing and sucking. With his hands still cradling my face and his lips still glued to mine he urged me to lay down. I wrapped one arm around his neck, and one hand curled around his bicep beside my head as he ruthlessly attacked my lips a while longer.

Heavenly whimpers escaped both you and Joost, still being cautious not to wake anyone. Pulling away and seeing your lips so swollen and kiss-bitten made Joost so proud.

My body ached for him, “I can’t take much more of this” I whined as he left a trail of kisses down my neck. He lifted my shirt up over my head and continued down my stomach, his hands eagerly grabbing the sides of my waist and tits. He stopped at the edge of my pants, sat up and came to rest his back against the head of the bed. “Come here baby” he softly instructed me while patting the space in between his outstretched legs. He held me steady while I took up position, my close to bare back comfortably leaning into his chest, the difference in size apparent. His arms draped down to my thighs, his fingers never failing to caress every inch. Waves of comfort came with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he lowered his tongue to the nape of my neck, licking a long stripe up to my ear.

“Just relax,” he breathed, making the hairs on my neck stand straight. His hands ventured back to my pants, pulling them off with deliberate slowness, I lifted my hips to help and kicked them off the bed. “You’re so beautiful,” each word warm against my skin. His tantalizing hands resumed their careful journey as the cool air nipped against my newly exposed skin. I sucked in an audible breath as his fingers trailed up my inner thigh, “Is this okay?,” he said pausing just before my underwear to gauge my reaction. A weak nod was all I could muster up, I couldn’t resist slowly rocking my hips back and forth against him from the thrill of his touch. With my eyes closed tight I buried my face into Joost as the pad of his thumb brushed over the delicate fabric along my wet slit.

You squirmed into Joost ceaselessly, as he applied more and more pressure, unknowingly giving him a massage of his own through his pants. Your panties were becoming increasingly more damp, to the point where they clung to you leaving nothing to the imagination. Joost took this as a sign you were ready for more. You hadn’t opened your eyes since he started, your head was turned to the side, buried in his chest resulting in your neck being awfully exposed. A hot half moan escaped your lips in surprise as Joost’s mouth worked skillfully on your sensitive neck, his tongue flicking against your skin before he sucked ravenously, drawing out even more of those sweet, breathless sounds. At the same time he slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your underwear. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders and mouth wide open as he stroked your swollen clit and folds. You were involuntarily trembling and bucking against him as he fingered you to the edge. Every muscle inside your body was quivering aggressively. Deep tremors formed in your core and rippled outward. All composure was gone under his overwhelming touch.

My breaths came in heavy, uneven gasps. My chest rising and falling rapidly. I was completely at his mercy as his fingers worked me closer and closer. Every nerve in my body was aflame, my senses so desperately flooded by the delicious friction and heat of his touch. I was right there, teetering on the edge, ready to dive into the abyss of ecstasy he had created. Then his hands pulled away.

The abrupt halt left me gasping, my body trembling with unfulfilled need and anguish. My eyes flew open to meet his, “Joost, why would you stop?” He ignored my question and kissed me in compensation. “Not yet” was all he gave me. I kissed him open-mouthed and needy, my heart ponded in my chest, tension lingering in my aching body. With our lips still attached I wrapped a hand around the firm forearm draped around my waist and guided him back to down to the hot mess he had left me with. Desire still burning hotter than ever.

“You need me that bad baby,” his accent a seductive melody. “Please,” the desperation in my voice so evident- my cheeks burnt red. He gave no resistance to the tiny hand around his wrist, full of urgency and insistence. This time your eyes never left his, the intensity of longing clear to him. He found his hand back where you needed It most, your hips arched, silently begging for his touch. The moment his fingers made contact once again, a shudder ran through you, a suppressed moan released. “Don’t stop,” you commanded. You had a certain feralness to you the second time around, showing him exactly where and how you wanted him. Never letting go of the tightening grip around his wrist. Your body was pressed tightly into Joost’s, using him shamelessly like a toy. You needed him to finish what he had started, and you weren’t afraid to show him how much you wanted it. The reserved nature he knew you by was overcome by an insatiable desire. He pushed his tattooed fingers deep into your gushing entrance, frantically pumping in and out of you. “Fuckk,” tears spilled down your cheeks as you finally came.

Joost’s touch softened immediately, noticing you were overstimulated. You turned to your side still heightened with emotions and riding out the orgasm. With tender care Joost cradled you in his arms, running his hand through your hair, soothing you through the storm. “You’re okay.”

Nestled into the curve of his arms, you felt a soft blanket envelop you, and with a sigh of content you allowed yourself to surrender to sleep.

----------♡--------------------♡--------------------♡--------------------♡

(And he never even took any cloths off)

Also just realised I never actually stated she was a virgin

[velvetesrs]

Duty and Sacrifice | Hotd

Pairing | Aemond x Reader/Y/N

Warnings | Mentions of incest between siblings. Religious guilt and fear.

Word count | 3032

Authors note | I haven’t written in a while and it shows but I’ve been working on this while I was in the bathroom and this might be a one shot or a short series leading into the murder of Lucerys.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Aemond would never admit it to you directly but he was fond of the way your hair was reminiscent of your mother.

The glossy red, like a promise of an unforgettable autumn, the smell of lilac blooms and gooseberry wine, trailed behind you as you came to sit next to your mother. you didn't look like the traditional Targaryen.

Despite Helaena being your twin you looked almost nothing like her, where as she was thin, gentle blue eyes and icy white hair. You were fire, bright red hair, full breast, your dark violet eyes being all that made the common folk shy away from naming you a bastard.

You had grown into your womanly figure early, your large bust that was extenuated by your tight stomach from years of training made all noble twats talk of you senselessly which made him ill at the thought of it.

Somehow you looked like the perfect mix of your eldest sister Rhaenyra and Your Queen mother, Alicent.

He loved playing with your curls, thoughts of how they'd look wrapped around his hand as he made you cum ferociously on his cock ran rapidly through his mind.

But no, that was wrong and the seven would surely punish him for those thoughts and he shoved them as far away from his mind as possible.

There was an innocent light to it as well he supposed. Aemond loved his mother, and you mirrored her perfectly. no matter how unkind and stiff she could be to you all. You were the opposite, you may have stolen her likeness in appearance but you were kind, gentle and loving, all the things she wasn't.

Having a motherly role to your idiotic drunk of a brother and your sweet twin sister.

Aemond also enjoyed having someone look after him, without the same judgement and expectations the Queen had for him.

He loved the way your hands felt on his face, while you sobbed cleaning his blood away, the fire in your eyes as you stood to defend him, covered in his blood.

Aemond never could grasp how you could love them all so much, even Rhaenyra and her bastard children, you'd stand before anyone and swear on the Gods that they were legitimate just because you knew what being Queen meant to her.

You were a gift from the Seven, a model of the maiden and mother sent to him as reward for his faithfulness.

"Come Aemond, I must clean your bandages" you whispered amongst the crowd not to draw attention to his injury. It had been many moons since it happened but unfortunately being struck in the face during training cause the gash to bleed once more.

He stood unaffected by your words. still shy to show it in fear you may think him a monster like the other ladies of the court.

"They will be even more frightened by you if you are to bleed out in front of them, Brother" your soft scent floated through the air like a fragrant flower as your hand brushed against his, "Come" you urged noticing everyone's attention on the king as his health steadily declined.

It seemed the whole court was on edge that day, all attention on them as if Viserys was to die in moments and they'd kill each other reaching for his crown.

The stress was beginning to eat you alive, and the last thing you needed was Aemond to be in more agony knowing how badly it hurt your heart to him in pain.

You walked along side of him after excusing yourself from the commotion, not daring to grab your elder brother's hand until you were away from the crowd.

"Are you alright, Dōna zaldrīzes?" Aemond hummed watching you audibly sigh gripping his hand tightly. "It is just the weigh of what is sure to happen soon" you mumbled.

You loved Viserys very much, he had never paid much attention to you in comparison to Rhaenyra. However you'd helped him build his mini statues of king's landing as a child and that moment cemented a love for your father that even his lack of care for you didn't sully.

"I fear father shall die soon" you whispered walking into Aemond's chambers, his scent was more pungent now in his room.

He smelt like trees after it rained, clean and crisp with a hint of the strong Pine trees that sat outside of the sept he was frequenting lately. It was comforting and relaxing to be so fully immersed in what seemed like the essence of your big brother.

Your hands made quick work unlatching his eye patch as you settled in front of him, "does it truly trouble you this much sister? The thought of him dying?" Aemond questioned darting his good eye away from your face. He couldn't bare the idea that you'd look at him with disgust even though you were often the only one he'd allow change his bandages.

You quickly wiped away the blood leaking from his wound, applying a salve you made to keep away the infection, "your sapphire is irritating it again" you said softly ignoring his question, your plump lips almost touching his nose as you got closer to see it.

He pushed you away gently, pulling his eye patch back on with a hiss, "it is fine as it is, if Aegon had been mindful of his sword this wouldn't of happened"

You sighed watching him put away your things you kept in his chambers for times like this, "it 'twas an accident" you mumbled looking down.

"You baby him far too much" he hissed in almost annoyance before he caught the look in your eyes, "he isn't as innocent as you believe Sister"

You had been angry at Aegon for harming your brother but knowing of the torment your brother tried to drink away daily you couldn't help but defend him.

Still you felt bad that you had forgiven Aegon so quickly thinking that Aemond would be mad at you, but you couldn't bring yourself to be unkind to him.

"It is fine Y/n it will heal just as long as I have you to care for me" Aemond said walking up to you, he pulled you into a hug, letting his nose rest in your hair, he breathed your scent deeply in a deliciously sensual way.

You blushed pulling away from him, "Always brother" you cleared your throat, "we must go back"

He nodded stiffly disliking how quickly you put distance between the two of you, he gripped your hand, "let us return then"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Aemond knew something was wrong with you, you didn't seem ill nor did your smile fade from your beautiful face but still something was off, he noticed at first at dinner, when you excused yourself early.

Something you rarely did if not on your moons blood which he had written down so he could help you track so he knew for a fact it wasn't that.

If he hadn't been watching you so closely he wouldn't have noticed you putting your food into napkins underneath your Gown pocket as if saving it away for some reason.

The most unusual part of your sudden illness at dinner was you rushed to your chambers with your handmaiden. You liked to prepare for prayer alone.

He knew something was wrong when he went to your chambers, ready to escort you to the sept for the two of you to pray as usual.

He softly knocked on your door, waiting suspiciously for you to answer.

You face was flushed as you glanced up at him, "Yes, Brother?" You questioned with a soft smile pretending to droop your eyes to mimic exhaustion.

Your hair was wet, a sprig of lavender behind your ear, something else unusual, "just making sure you are well before we set off to the sept" he replied narrowing his eye at you.

You nodded, "it seems I am a bit tired brother, so I shall retire now. Sweet dreams" you smiled as you shut the door in his face.

He stood there shocked for a moment before turning away, you were up to something and even though he knew it was wrong to doubt you he couldn't help it.

Your footsteps were nearly silent as you snuck from your chamber, a hood resting over your head and a dark shift covering your commoners clothes.

Aemond stood just far enough in the shadows to follow you as you went to flea bottom.

He watched as your Princess like presence turned into one much like the other people in walking at night. You had been here before he noted, you knew exactly how to cover your tracks and how to hide your true identity.

If he was any other it would've been easy to lose you amid the crowds of people covered by the moonlight but your glossy hair peaking through the hood was a dead giveaway.

You stopped at a door, knocking twice. He watched as a woman emerged wrapping you tightly in an embrace, she smiled at you with tears in her eyes and her hands shook as you gave her a small sack he hadn't noticed you had.

"This will be enough to live comfortably in Pentos" you said quietly, brushing a hand through the woman's tangled dark hair, "you will have your own home and never want for anything"

The woman let out a sob, covering her mouth, "Thank you My Princess, I-i am forever in your debt I cannot repay you" she pulled you into another hug.

You didn't seem disgusted by the obvious dirt on the woman's clothing, nor the stench of the streets.

"I have one request" you said with a grin "may I see him once more please" Aemond watched as she nodded hurriedly rushing back into her shack.

Much to his surprise, in her arms was a baby. it's hair white as his own, small fat fingers reaching up to touch your face and you held it with such care as she passed it into your arms it made his heartbeat rapidly.

"Tell him that his Father was a brave knight that died at battle, he was a good man but he couldn't stay to care for the two of you" you told the woman glancing down at the baby with love in your eyes, "and that his Aunt loved him so much that she could hardly bare it"

You had tears in your eyes as you handed the woman back her child, "there will be a man here shortly named Erick to safely bring the two of you to a boat, after that it shall be smooth sailing" you pulled something else from your bag on your hip.

"Enough food for tonight but I made sure the boat is ready for you with accommodations" you took the lavender from behind your ear, handing it to the woman, “for the babe, to help him sleep for the journey” nodding as you stepped away.

“I hope you have a good life Ellesa, you're a good woman" She smiled at you watching as you kissed the boy on his head, "Farewell my friend" she whispered. You grinned knowing that she would now be safe and rubbed her arm gently.

As she walked back into the small hut that he assumed was her home. You turned around and caught his eye, "Brother" you said slowly approaching him.

"It is Aegon's" he uttered softly obviously referring to the child. You nodded, falling into step with him, "Yes"

You held your hand out awaiting his as you always did when you walked alongside him, "Not the first she’s had by him either, the others died due to illness she couldn't afford to heal" you had no reason to keep the truth from him and knowing you could always trust him you didn't wish to.

"She was his favorite whore, he introduced us once and I took a liking to her as well just not in the same manner" you murmured pausing your steps as Aemond stopped to stare at you, "he took you back to the Street of Silk?" he growled in anger at their older sibling.

You laughed, rubbing a finger on his furrowed brow, "No, he'd brought her to me" he sighed calming down a bit, "you've bedded her?" He asked in quiet surprise.

"No" you shook your head, "she was simply a friend i had grown close to, but if mother were to find out about her she'd have her shipped away to a slum somewhere, the babe as well" 

"mother wouldn't do that" Aemond disagreed, as cruel as she could be he couldn't imagine her doing such a thing for she was a godly woman and just. "she'd never harm an innocent woman and her child"

You snorted as the two of you continued your walk back to the red keep, "you'd be surprised what our mother would do to protect our family's name"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You had a difficult relationship with your mother, you loved her like no other but you saw the looks she gave you, the tone she used when she addressed you.

Your poor sweet mother didn't like you very much, she loved you, of course as she did all of her children. But she couldn't bring herself to like you all, not when her life had to end to bring all of yours to fruition.

The Queen didn't blame you but she could never shake the unsettling feeling in her stomach as she looked at your face so similar to hers in her youth.. so similar to Rhaenyra's.

You supposed she saw something sinful in you and that hurt your heart greatly.

As a young child she would lay with you often, muttering how she wouldn’t let you turn into Rhaenyra, that you would be a good and pure woman that you too would not be swept away by lust and evil as your elder sister had.

And so you poured your heart and soul into knowledge and peace, striving to chase away the evil that your mother was so certain lived inside you.

You were never enough to Alicent and reluctantly you’d admit that you never would be, you indulged your self in your studies, you sought out religion just to gain praise that never came, her criticisms turned harsher the older you got, the more womanly your body grew the more she felt you needed to try harder to resist the temptations that came with it.

You heard her before you saw her as you turned the corner in search of Aegon, "You are no son of mine" the words so harsh it made your heart sear with sadness.

"I am sorry" Aegon whispered out, "I am sorry I am not perfect like you" there was a stillness in the air before the sound of a slap.

You quickly walked into the room to see Aegon on the ground, his cheek bright red, tears in his eyes and your Queen mother standing above him.

"Mother" you called for her hesitantly, "I believe Grandfather was looking for you, The septon mentioned it to me" you mumbled as she turned to you.

Her eyes closed and she shook her head, "very well" she cleared her throat looking down at Aegon once more, "Excuse me Sweetling" she said as she walked past you.

You rushed to Aegon's side helping him sit up but he stumbled falling onto your lap, the stench of ale heavy on his tongue, "Why" he whispered laying his head down on your lap, "why does she hate me" he asked you.

Sighing you brushed the hair from his face, "Mother is troubled much like us Aegon, Do not doubt her love"

He laughed sadly, "She is cruel, just like father they hate us" you felt your heart drop not knowing what to say, you couldn't argue you felt the same as he did.

"Why couldn’t she marry us" he mumbled suddenly into your gown, "I told her it was you I preferred, did you know?" He questioned and your heart sank.

You didn't want to marry Aegon, not because it disgusted you, but because you knew the type of man he was, A wanton man with selfish needs and he could never put aside his childlike behavior not even for your twin, His wife.

“No I did not brother” you whispered, your hand brushing the curls back, “she knew it would hurt me if you weren’t mine” he bitterly slurred out.

Silently you thanked your mother for not approving the proposal, You’d always be there for Aegon but you could never stomach his ways.

"She hates you the most" he lazily laughed looked up at you, "you look so much like her she can't bare the sight of your face"

You already knew that. Rhaenyra was actually the one who’d explained it to you in your youth, she’d found you crying underneath a table after tea with your mother, she had insulted your embroidery you’d made for your father and Rhaenyra wiped away your tears.

You watched as his glassy eyes closed and he fell asleep but you continued running your hand through his greasy hair, his words heavy on your mind.

"What did he do now" you heard Aemond say as he leaned against the wall near you, "mother seemed upset"

You were quiet, "she hit him again, told him he wasn't her son" you murmured.

The soft snores filled the gap in the absence of conversation, "how can you love him" Aemond broke the silence watching you closely. "He is terrible, you've seen it firsthand cleaning away his messes, he doesn't deserve it"

You paused your movements, "because if i do not who will? Hel cannot comprehend most emotions, Father hates us, you cannot stand him.” You swallowed taking a shaky breath, “He is right, Mother hates me as well but i am strong unlike him, Aegon is weak and he cannot handle the pressure placed upon his head.

Aemond came to sit next to you, "she intends to send me away" you revealed looking up at him, "to the grand sept."

He grimaced watching your face closely, "how do you know this?" You scoffed shaking your head, "you can learn quite a bit with kindness to our servants Brother"

"You do not wish for this?" He asked grabbing your smaller hand, it always fit with his like the missing piece to a puzzle as if you were made for him. He swallowed at the thought of you moving far away from him where he couldn't protect you.

You sighed, "To live a life under religion just to please the woman that wishes i didn't exist does not sound very appealing to me"

"I am a Targaryen i belong here with my family" you stated in Valyrian, "I am not a Hightower no matter how much I resemble them and they will not force my dragon to rot in the Pits because I cannot bring him with me"

"You asked me before if I was truly upset by the idea of father dying but to be honest I am not, I'm more afraid of what mother will do after he's gone" you whispered.

Aemond gripped your hand tighter as the mother tongue came from your soft lips, the beautiful words sounding like a song.

"What if I propose an idea to mother" he said suddenly. You hummed in confusion, "What is it?"

Aemond looked down in disgust at your brother’s head in the lap he had decided was his, the lap that the Seven had crafted especially for him "I shall marry you"

Your lips parted in surprise as he turned towards you, “it would unite our family closer, and father wouldn’t object” he said holding your hand so tightly you felt your bones crunch under the weight.

You opened your mouth to respond but your words failed you, the look in his eye stopping you for it was just like the night he claimed the largest dragon in existence.

Determination.

[jhyoos]

Of Roses And Steel

chapter six : heavy is the crown

knight sevika x queen reader

mentions : strong reader, fight scenes, caitvi mentions, vander lowkey being a father figure to reader, protective sevika, mentions of blood, monsters, royalty au, medieval au, child deaths

notes: “bruh completely forgot” NO TF I DIDNT. HERE DAMN.

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The snow drifted down in delicate flurries, soft and silent, a stark contrast to the raging blizzard you had endured just days before. Each breath you took formed a ghostly mist in the cold air, but the chill did little to numb the fire burning inside you. You had all left camp at dawn, the weight of war settling over your shoulders as you dressed in your armor. The camp had been eerily quiet, everyone preparing in their own way, some sharpening weapons, others murmuring silent prayers. You hadn’t been sure how to feel—anger, resolve, fear? But in the end, only one thought guided you: headstrong. You were fighting for your land, your people, your father, your mother. Fighting against the betrayal that had led you here.

Sevika’s voice broke through your thoughts. “We’re gonna go up a little further, then we dismount. Attack on foot,” she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You nodded, gripping the reins tighter as your horse moved steadily through the snow-covered path. The wind howled softly through the trees, but beyond that, the world felt eerily still, as if the land itself were holding its breath in anticipation of the coming bloodshed.

Then, with a sharp motion, Sevika raised her hand, signaling a halt.

“Dismount,” she ordered, her voice low but firm.

Everyone slid off their horses in practiced movements, the crunch of boots against the frost-covered ground the only sound filling the tense silence. You reached for your weapons, strapping your sword at your hip, securing your bow across your back. Every movement felt rehearsed, methodical, yet your hands trembled slightly as you adjusted your grip.

Sevika’s gaze flickered to you, unreadable as always. There was something in the way she looked at you, something lingering from the night before. The intimacy you had shared was still fresh in your mind—her hand gripping the back of your neck, her thumb tracing your cheek with uncharacteristic tenderness. She had wanted to say something then, but she hadn't. Now, as she took a step closer, her hand twitched slightly at her side before she pulled away. This was war, and there was no room for sentimentality.

“The Noxians are not far from here,” she said, her voice cutting through the cold. “Weapons ready. We go in headstrong and we do not stop until every single soldier is down. Understood?”

A chorus of agreement followed, the sound of steel being drawn filling the air. This was the reality of war—no drawn-out speeches, no time for hesitation. Only the brutal, unrelenting quickness of battle.

You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself as you reached for your bow. Pulling an arrow from your quiver, you nocked it with precision, feeling the familiar weight settle in your hands.

Sevika turned to face you then, her eyes expectant. She wanted you to speak.

You took a step forward, your voice unwavering as it rang through the frigid air. “The Medardas have taken our land, stolen our goods, our families, our livelihoods. But after today, they shall thieve no more.”

Silence fell for the briefest moment, the weight of your words sinking in.

Then, with one final breath, you raised your bow.

“Attack!” you roared.

And with the raise of your bow, you started the war.

It all happened in a blur.

The moment the battle began, the air filled with the sharp twang of bowstrings, the clash of steel, and the desperate cries of soldiers meeting their end. You barely had time to process it before you found yourself face-to-face with two enemy archers, their bows already drawn, arrows trained directly on you.

Instinct took over.

You dropped low just as their fingers twitched, the sound of their bows releasing lost beneath the chaos. With a sharp inhale, you let your own arrow fly, striking the first soldier clean in the throat. His body jerked, the bow slipping from his grasp as he crumpled to the ground, blood staining the fresh snow. The second barely had time to react before you lunged forward, slamming your boot into his chest and sending him sprawling. He gasped, trying to scramble back, but you were already on him. In one swift motion, you drew a dagger from your belt and plunged it into his exposed neck. His body went rigid before finally going still beneath you.

You rose to your feet, yanking the knife free just in time to look up—only to see Sevika effortlessly cutting down five soldiers with nothing but her fists. She moved with terrifying precision, dodging blows with ease, her strikes breaking bones and crushing throats in a matter of seconds. A man tried to swing his sword at her, but she caught his wrist mid-swing and twisted until a sickening crack echoed through the battlefield. He collapsed, screaming, before she finished him with a swift stomp to the head.

Your gaze flickered across the field, searching for your allies. The battle was chaotic, bodies clashing, swords flashing in the winter light. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Vander struggling.

Three Noxian soldiers had him surrounded, and though he was holding his own, it was clear they were wearing him down. Without hesitation, you sprinted toward him.

One of the soldiers turned just in time to see you closing in, but it was too late. You drove your knife into his side, twisting it deep before ripping it free, sending him to his knees with a choked gasp. Vander took the distraction to his advantage, landing a powerful blow to another soldier’s head, sending him reeling before slamming him into the snow. The final man barely had time to react before Vander grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the ground, finishing him off with a brutal punch.

Panting, Vander turned to you, shaking the blood from his hands. A grin pulled at his lips as he extended a hand. “Should’ve known you’d come to save the day.”

You smirked, gripping his arm and hauling him to his feet. “Of course.”

There was no time to revel in the victory. More soldiers were coming. The battle was far from over.

The battle raged on, but the tide was shifting in your favor. The Noxian soldiers were falling, their numbers dwindling as your forces pushed forward with relentless determination. The once-pristine snow was now a battlefield, littered with fallen bodies and streaked with crimson.

You moved through the chaos with precision, striking down any enemy that stood in your way. Your arms ached, your breath was ragged, but you refused to slow down. This was your home, your people—there was no room for weakness.

Sevika fought nearby, a force of destruction, cutting through enemies with brutal efficiency. Her movements were almost effortless, as if war was second nature to her. She caught your eye once, her gaze flickering with something unreadable before she turned back to the fight.

Then, finally, the noise began to die down.

The clashing of swords grew fainter, the shouts less frequent. One by one, the remaining Noxians fell, some trying to flee, only to be cut down before they could escape. Soon, there was nothing left but the silence of the battlefield, the heavy breaths of the soldiers who had survived.

Sevika exhaled sharply, surveying the scene with a critical eye. Her knuckles were bloodied, her armor dented in places, but she stood tall, unwavering. She turned to the gathered soldiers, her voice carrying across the field.

"Search the village houses. We need to be sure no captors remain."

The soldiers nodded and moved without hesitation, breaking off into smaller groups as they made their way toward the cluster of houses beyond the battlefield. You watched as they entered each home cautiously, weapons drawn, prepared for anything.

Sevika stepped beside you, her gaze locked on the village ahead. "We don’t take risks," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "If there are any survivors, we bring them to safety. If there are any remaining Noxians, we put them down."

You nodded, wiping the blood from your blade. "And if we find nothing?"

Sevika glanced at you, her expression unreadable. "Then we move forward. The war isn’t over yet."

You swallowed, the weight of her words settling in. The battle may have ended here, but the fight for your kingdom was far from finished.

The cold air was crisp against your skin as you stood beside Sevika, watching the soldiers move from one house to the next, clearing each with cautious precision. The battlefield was eerily quiet now, save for the distant murmurs of your men and the occasional creak of a door being forced open.

You glanced at Sevika, taking in the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw was set. She stood like a statue, unmoving, unreadable.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Sevika didn’t look at you right away. Instead, she exhaled, watching as the soldiers disappeared into the homes. “Do you want me to be honest?” she finally asked, her tone even but laced with something heavier.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as you considered her words. There were many ways this conversation could go, but you didn’t want distance between you—not now.

“We are lovers, aren’t we?” you said, your voice steady despite the vulnerability of the question.

That got her attention. She turned to face you fully, and for the first time in what felt like ages, her gaze softened. The hardened warrior before you cracked, just slightly, enough for a small, almost imperceptible smile to pull at her lips.

“I’m just a bit worried,” Sevika admitted. “We lost good soldiers back there. And this place… it was heavily guarded for a reason.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The battle was over, but unease lingered in the air. Something wasn’t right.

“I would tell you not to think too much about it,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood, “but I’ve been overthinking ever since I woke up from that coma.”

Sevika let out a short, quiet laugh, shaking her head as she looked at you. It wasn’t much, but you knew her well enough to see that she appreciated the attempt, even if it didn’t ease her concerns.

“We should go help,” Sevika said after a moment, her voice turning firm once again. Without waiting for a response, she strode toward one of the more dilapidated houses, its roof half-collapsed, its door hanging off its hinges.

You took one last breath of the cold air before following her inside.

You and Sevika moved through the abandoned house with practiced efficiency, checking every corner, every overturned piece of furniture, every possible hiding place. The air inside was stale, heavy with the scent of damp wood and dust. It was clear that people had lived here not long ago—half-eaten meals sat untouched on the table, chairs were knocked over as if someone had left in a hurry.

Then, your eyes landed on something on the floor. A sealed letter, its wax imprint unmistakable—the Noxian insignia pressed into crimson. Your heart pounded as you bent down and picked it up, your fingers running over the seal before breaking it open.

You read in silence, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the words burned into your mind:

"Kill all townspeople you come across. Leave no survivors. This land belongs to Noxus now."

Ambessa’s orders.

Your grip on the paper tightened as your eyes darted around the room. There was no blood on the floors, no signs of struggle. Either the Noxians had cleaned up after themselves, or the massacre had happened elsewhere. The thought made bile rise in your throat.

Without thinking, you moved toward the back door, pushing it open with trembling hands. The backyard was eerily quiet, a blanket of snow covering the ground. But something felt off. The stillness, the way the wind carried an almost metallic scent.

You dropped to your knees, hands plunging into the frozen earth. The snow was thick, but you dug with desperation, fingers burning from the cold as you clawed at the ground. Then—your nails scraped against something hard. Something cold.

You pushed away more snow, and the first thing you saw was red.

Blood. Seeping into the white, staining your hands as you uncovered a lifeless body. A child.

A sharp sob tore from your throat, but you didn’t stop. You kept digging, your hands moving frantically as you unearthed more—bodies piled carelessly, discarded like nothing more than waste. Men, women, children. Their faces frozen in expressions of fear, their hands tangled together as if they had clung to each other in their final moments.

Your body shook as grief and rage consumed you, tears falling freely. “No… no, no, no…”

Sevika hadn’t heard you at first, but the moment she stepped outside and saw you on your knees, saw what you had uncovered, her expression darkened.

“(Y/N)…” Her voice was low, cautious.

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

“(Y/N)!” Sevika barked, her tone sharp enough to cut through your hysteria.

You finally looked up at her, your vision blurred with tears. “I failed them.” Your voice broke. “How could they? Why would they do something so cruel?”

Sevika was at your side in an instant, grabbing your wrists and pulling you to your feet. Your hands were numb, raw from the cold and the effort. She wordlessly unclasped her cape, wrapping it around your trembling fingers, rubbing them between her own in an attempt to warm you.

“This is not your fault,” she said firmly, her voice a low rumble of restrained fury. “This is Ambessa’s doing. And she will fall for what she’s done.”

You looked down at the bodies, at the innocent lives lost, and clenched your jaw.

Sevika was right.

Ambessa would pay.

The cold wind bit at your skin as Sevika stood beside you, her gaze locked on the soldiers moving through the village, securing homes and checking for any hidden survivors. The weight of what you had just uncovered still lingered in the air, but there was no time to dwell on grief—only time to act.

“Violet and Caitlyn moved ahead of us,” Sevika finally said, arms crossed as she surveyed the road ahead. “They’re helping Steb hide more townspeople. We can’t afford any more dead.” She exhaled through her nose, the cold making her breath visible in the air. “I let them bring a few soldiers with them.”

You nodded, though your mind was already racing ahead. The massacre in this village proved just how ruthless Ambessa was. If she was this heartless, then brute force wouldn’t be enough to stop her—she’d expect a straightforward battle. No, you needed something unpredictable.

“A diversion,” you murmured.

Sevika turned to look at you. “What?”

“If Ambessa is this cruel, then we need to throw her off balance. Something big. Something she won’t expect.” You paused before the idea clicked into place. “An explosion.”

Sevika raised a brow, skeptical but listening.

“The monsters are expected, but explosions? Those aren’t,” you said, determination sharpening your voice. “She won’t see it coming.”

Your eyes flickered over the people until they landed on a familiar head of unruly blue hair. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you made your way over.

“Jinx.”

She was crouched beside Vander, checking over his injuries with surprisingly delicate hands. At the sound of your voice, she perked up, grinning as she turned to you.

“(Y/N), to what do I owe the pleasure?” Jinx drawled, tilting her head in amusement.

You didn’t waste time. “I need you to do what you do best.”

Her eyes glimmered with interest. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Explosions.”

Jinx’s grin widened. “Now you’re speaking my language. But I’ll need materials for that.”

You crossed your arms. “If there were Noxians this far from the castle, then their camp can’t be far. I’m sure we can find everything you need.”

Jinx tapped a finger against her chin, considering. Then she clapped her hands together. “Then I’ll make ‘em.”

You gave her a confident smile. “I know you will.”

Sevika’s voice cut in. “Make what?”

You turned to face her, meeting her narrowed gaze without hesitation. “Bombs.”

Her expression immediately hardened. “Bombs?” She crossed her arms. “That’s a crazy idea. What if someone on our side gets caught in it?”

You held her stare. “That’s why I’m doing this strategically,” you reassured her. “Trust me.”

For a moment, she just looked at you, her jaw tight. Then, with an exasperated huff, she rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Sevika’s voice rang out with authority over the howling wind. “Mount up! We need to keep moving—Ambessa will realize soon enough that her soldiers aren’t returning.”

The remaining forces swiftly obeyed, pulling themselves onto their horses as the cold bit at their faces. You adjusted your grip on the reins, your breath visible in the frigid air. The battle had already left its mark on all of you, but there was no time to stop.

As you rode forward, the dense forest of snow-covered trees opened up to reveal a small, abandoned Noxian camp. The silence was unsettling. Fires had long since died out, and footprints in the snow were fading under fresh snowfall.

“Stay alert,” Sevika murmured, raising a hand to signal a halt.

She dismounted first, boots crunching against the frozen ground as she strode toward a row of wooden crates. You swung down from your horse and followed close behind, fingers resting on your sword hilt.

Sevika pried open a crate, scanning its contents before glancing up at you. “Looks like they had the same idea.” She lifted a small, round explosive with the Noxian insignia carved into its metal casing. “Bombs.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Load these up. Be careful,” you instructed, motioning for a few soldiers to begin packing the explosives onto the horses.

Suddenly, the sharp whistle of something slicing through the air made your body react on instinct. You twisted to the side just in time for an arrow to graze past your cheek, embedding itself into the wooden crate beside you.

A voice, familiar and sharp, cut through the cold. “You aren’t taking anything.”

Your blood ran hot as you turned to face the source. Emerging from the white veil of snowfall was Mel Medarda, clad in Noxian colors, her golden eyes glinting with unreadable intent. Behind her, more soldiers stepped forward, weapons drawn.

Your grip on your sword tightened as your vision darkened with rage. You swung down from your horse, boots hitting the ground hard. “It’s mine,” you growled, drawing your blade with a steady hand. “I found it. I kept it.”

Mel’s lips curled into a smirk, though there was no warmth in it. “Wouldn’t want to do that,” she warned, taking a step closer. “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?”

A sneer twisted your features. “I’m not hurt anymore.” You raised your sword, the weight of it grounding you in the moment. “Let’s see what you can use to your advantage now, traitor.”

Mel’s grip on her sword tightened, her golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, she lifted a hand, a silent command.

“Kill them,” she ordered coldly. “But leave her to me.”

The Noxian soldiers didn’t hesitate. In an instant, the air erupted into chaos. Arrows flew, blades clashed, and war cries filled the camp as both sides collided. Your soldiers fought back with everything they had, meeting Noxian steel with unrelenting force.

But your focus was locked solely on Mel.

She lunged at you again, her blade a silver blur in the cold air. You barely had time to deflect, the impact rattling your bones. She was fast—faster than before—but you had fought her once, and you wouldn’t let her overpower you again

Then she lunged.

You met her head-on, the clash of your swords ringing out in the stillness. Sparks flew as metal ground against metal, the force of the impact reverberating through your arms. Mel was quick, each strike precise and unrelenting, but you held your ground.

She twisted, attempting to throw you off balance, but you countered, ducking low before delivering a sharp kick to her side. She stumbled slightly but recovered fast, slicing toward you in retaliation. You barely managed to parry in time, the force of her blow sending a jolt through your wrists.

You stepped back, breathing heavy, your eyes locked onto hers.

Mel tilted her head. “You’re stronger than before.”

You wiped a trickle of blood from your lip with the back of your hand, giving her a vicious grin. “And you’re getting slower.”

Her expression darkened. Without another word, she charged at you again, blade raised.

Then—

A loud explosion shook the ground beneath you.

The explosion in the distance sent a tremor through the ground, a clear distraction meant to pull your attention away. But you refused to take the bait. Your focus remained locked on Mel. She didn't even flinch at the sound—she was too determined, too set on finishing what she started.

With quick, decisive steps, she closed the distance between you, and you surged forward to meet her head-on. Blades clashed again, ringing out through the cold air. She moved with practiced precision, but you matched her, countering each strike with one of your own.

Then—without hesitation—Mel stomped down hard on your foot. Pain shot up your leg, and before you could react, her elbow crashed against your face, sending a burst of white-hot pain through your skull. The impact knocked you off balance, and you hit the frozen ground with a hard thud, your breath leaving you in a sharp gasp.

Mel loomed over you, her expression unreadable, though the victory in her eyes was undeniable. She raised her sword, the tip gleaming in the dim light.

"Let's try this again," she murmured, gripping the hilt tightly as she prepared to drive the blade into your stomach.

But before she could strike, a deep, guttural growl rumbled through the trees.

Both of you turned toward the sound, the tension shifting in an instant. From the shadowed treeline, a figure emerged—Eros.

The massive beast moved like a ghost through the snow, his white fur blending into the storm, except now it bristled with aggression. His glowing eyes locked onto Mel, and before she could react, he lunged.

A blur of muscle and teeth, Eros crashed into her, knocking her off her feet with terrifying force. Her sword clattered to the ground as she let out a strangled scream. The sound was cut short as Eros sank his fangs into her throat.

Mel thrashed beneath him, clawing at his fur, but it was useless. He ripped and tore, his growls mixing with the wet, sickening sounds of flesh being torn apart. The struggle didn’t last long. Within moments, the fight was over, and silence settled over the battlefield.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, pressing a hand to your aching jaw as you looked at Eros. His muzzle dripped with fresh blood, his white fur stained crimson. Despite the carnage, when his glowing eyes met yours, there was no malice—only loyalty.

"Good boy?" you murmured, hesitantly reaching out a hand.

Eros stepped closer, pressing his massive head against your palm.

"Thank you," you whispered, stroking his blood-soaked fur.

You rose to your feet, your body still aching, and looked down at what remained of Mel. Her lifeless body lay in the snow, her head completely severed, her face frozen in an expression of shock.

For a moment, you felt… nothing. No rage, no satisfaction. Just emptiness.

Then, without thinking, you lifted your foot and kicked her corpse.

"Bitch," you muttered under your breath before turning away.

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[flickering-chandelier]

The Alchemy

Pairing: Hockey Azriel x Best Friend’s Sister Reader

Summary: The day Azriel met Cassian’s little sister, he knew he was done for. When he finds out years later that she’s just as interested in him, things become complicated as they try to hide their blooming relationship from Cassian while their hockey team is working hard to win the championship.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: swearing, smut, a sprained ankle lol?

Word Count: 7.1k

The crowd roared as Azriel slapped his stick across the ice, shooting the puck directly past the goalie and into the net. 

His teammates clapped him on the back, grinning as the final buzzer sounded. He had won them the game. People were in his face, excitedly swarming around him on the ice, ready to celebrate, but through it all, his eyes landed on you in the stands. Your smile was bright, your eyes glittering with pride. 

That made his heart flip. He could handle all the reporters, all the overeager fans, all the assholes from his team and opposite teams alike, but your smile could bring him to his knees.

Cassian skated into sight then, and Azriel was immediately brought back down to earth. 

“Congrats bro,” Cassian said. “Maybe the journalists will leave me alone for once,” he smirked.

Azriel rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and sure enough, a woman with a microphone was waiting next to the tunnel, her eyes locked on Azriel, a big smile on her face. 

Cassian was usually the star of the show, the team’s captain, the hotshot golden boy for the fans and media alike. Azriel loved what he did, but he was perfectly happy to blend into Cassian’s shadow. 

It had been that way since they were kids. Azriel and Cassian had met as teenagers at hockey practice. They hated each other at first, but once they started working together, they realized it was better for everyone that way. 

They had been friends for quite a while before Azriel met you. 

It was one of the last games in the season of their senior year. Cassian had stolen the show, but Azirel had gotten a few good shots in, too. The two of them walked out of the locker room together after the game, and you were waiting there, wearing a jersey for the team, your hair tied up with ribbons that matched the team’s colors. 

Azriel was immediately drawn in by your smile, your hair, your eyes. For a moment he fantasized about sauntering up to you, introducing himself, and immediately making you fall in love with him.

But then you looked right past him, grinning at Cassian. “That was so awesome, Cass!”

Cassian grinned, pulling you into a bear hug, before turning to Azriel. “Az, this is my little sister.”

Your smile turned on Azriel for the first time, and he felt his whole world flip on its axis. 

Azriel had already known that Cassian was protective of people that he cared about. He had gotten suspended from a few games the year before because he tackled a player on the other team who had made fun of Azriel. So, he could only imagine how Cassian was with you, with his little sister who clearly looked up to him. 

So, Azriel immediately knew you would never be an option for him. 

That didn’t stop him from falling for you, though. 

---

You cheered at the top of your lungs as Azriel’s shot whizzed into the net, seconds before the final buzzer went off. Your heart soared as his teammates buzzed around him, lifting their sticks in the air in triumph. 

Despite everything around him, his eyes landed on you and you felt your heart lurch. 

It seemed that Azriel had always been able to find you in the stands, no matter what else was happening. You tried to push down the well of emotions in your chest. 

Ever since you had met Azriel, you had felt drawn to him, to his steady, quiet presence. 

He had never shown any interest in you though. In fact, he seemed to avoid you at most functions that you ended up at together. 

You couldn’t exactly blame him. You were just Cassian’s little sister, the annoying girl following them around to all their games. 

Cassian and you had always been close, so you loved being able to support him, but in the privacy of your own mind, you were willing to admit that after you had met Azriel, you were definitely more inclined to go to your brother’s hockey games. 

You watched as Azriel skated toward the reporter, getting through the interview with as few words as possible, as usual. 

The reporter eventually seemed to give up on getting anything substantial from Az, and she called Cassian over, who came up with an easy smile. He had always been good in the spotlight, giving interesting answers, able to work a crowd. 

Azriel looked relieved to get off the ice, out of sight. 

You wished you could follow him, get just a moment with him. 

But you knew that wasn’t in the cards for you.

A few days later, you had gotten out of work early and decided to go watch the boys’ hockey practice. They didn’t let many people in, but Cassian had made sure that you made the list. 

You took a seat fairly close to the rink, your gaze immediately falling on Azriel, mesmerized as you watched him fly across the ice, his brow furrowed with focus, massive frame somehow so graceful in his element. 

Often, you wished you could see his muscles working beneath all that padding, the shape of his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms flexing with each movement.

Cassian barked orders at his teammates, ever the hardworking captain, and you tore your eyes from Azriel long enough to pretend that you were only there to support your brother. 

At the end of practice, Cassian grinned at you, and nodded his head toward the tunnels. “Meet me in the locker room in 10 minutes?”

You gave him a thumbs up and he skated out of sight. You hadn’t been in the locker rooms much. You secretly hoped that Azriel would still be around by the time that you got there. 

Hesitantly, you pushed through the doors into the locker room, your heart racing slightly at the thought of what you might see in there. You were used to being around your brother’s coworkers, but they weren’t usually so... naked.

Frankly you couldn’t tell if your prayers had been answered or if the universe was messing with you as you immediately locked eyes with a shirtless Azriel, a towel wrapped around his waist, his own eyes wide in surprise when he saw you there. 

It took all your strength to maintain eye contact, to not let your gaze dip down to his chiseled chest, still glistening with water droplets from the shower. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice slightly husky. 

Some of their teammates were around in various stages of undress, looking at you and Azriel curiously, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Azriel. “Hi,” you said, and cleared your throat. “Cassian asked me to come…” you trailed off, feeling unsure of yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you and Azriel had been together without Cassian’s looming presence. 

He swallowed, and nodded. “Right.”

Before you could think of anything else to say, Cassian sauntered in with an easy smile on his face, in shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Hey! I’m glad you came by, I wanted to talk to you,” he said, as he opened his locker and rifled through it. 

You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Azriel retreated to his own locker, behind you. “What’s up?” You asked.

He shot you his sweetest smile, and you immediately rolled your eyes. “What’s the favor, Cass?”

Laughing, he said, “the team’s having a party soon, and I’m supposed to be in charge of appetizers…” he trailed off, grimacing slightly. 

“Who’s idea was that?” you laughed. 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know how it happened. Would you help me out?”

“Do I get to come to the party?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course.”

“Alright, I’m in,” you smiled. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he grinned. 

“Oh, I know,” you said, hyper aware of Azriel getting dressed out of sight, behind you. 

“Az and I were going to go get lunch, if you want to come?” Cassian asked.

You swore your heart started beating slightly faster. “Sure,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

 ---

Azriel kept his features schooled into neutrality as Cassian slid out of the booth and went to the bathroom, leaving you and Azriel alone.

He racked his brain for something to say. He wasn’t great at speaking to people under normal circumstances, much less with you.

“That was a really great shot you made at the last game,” you smiled, somewhat sheepishly, Azriel thought. “I was on the edge of my seat.”

He couldn’t help but smile faintly, his heart leaping at the thought of you watching him intently on the ice, hanging on every move he made. “Thanks.”

Your eyes crinkled in amusement. “I don’t think you understand how talented you all are. I can’t even skate.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

You nodded. “I tried a few times when I was a kid, but I was always so clumsy. And Cassian was a natural of course, so I guess that made it harder when I kept falling over and over,” you shrugged. 

“If you wanted to learn, I could teach you,” he said, before he could even really think about it. “It took me a long time to get the hang of it, so I understand.” He added, feeling slightly flustered, but trying his best not to show it. 

Azriel felt relieved when your eyes lit up. “You would really do that?”

“Sure,” he said as nonchalantly as he could.

Your smile was bright. “I would love that. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow afternoon?” He asked. “Meet me at the rink?”

You nodded excitedly, just as Cassian came back. “What are you two meeting at the rink for?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Azriel. 

“Az is helping me finally learn to skate,” you said as Cassian slid into the booth next to you. 

“Az is? I never knew you even wanted to learn,” Cassian said, his brow furrowed. 

You shrugged. “Well, I do.”

Cassian looked between you and Azriel for a moment, somewhat skeptically, but then shrugged easily. “Okay, then.”

Azriel could understand why Cassian was a little confused. In all the years that they had been friends, you and Azriel had barely spent any time together, if only because Azriel was purposely keeping his distance from you, hoping that his feelings would eventually diminish. 

He didn’t think this little endeavor would help him get over you. 

---

Your legs felt a bit shaky as you made your way to the rink and you silently cursed yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Being around Azriel made you so nervous, and pairing him with ice skates could be a perfect recipe for a broken ankle.

Azriel was already there, casually skating around. You couldn't help but watch him for a moment. It seemed impossible that he had ever had a hard time skating. He looked like he was born to do it.

He glanced up and saw you there, skated over to you then came to a halt, pointing to a bench just outside the rink. “Got your skates?”

You nodded, and sat down to start putting your skates on, your movements awkward and unsure. He watched your every movement, and came over to you when you started tying.

“May I?” He asked, and you just quirked a brow. He smiled faintly. “They'll have to be a lot tighter than that if you want them to stay on.”

“Oh! Yeah, go ahead,” you said.

Azriel tied your laces quickly, with expert precision.

He offered you his hand when he was done and you took it, trying to push down the swell of excitement in your chest.

As soon as you got onto the ice, your nerves overpowered everything else. Your knees felt wobbly and you were sure you would fall down instantly.

Azriel was in front of you, skating backwards slowly, still holding your hand. You gripped Azriel for dear life and your voice shaky, you croaked out, “Azriel, I don't think I can do this.”

Worry clouded his expression, his eyes softening. “You absolutely can. But you don't have to if you don't want to. There's no pressure here, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, on the care that he seemed to have for you. It helped you settle down a bit. “What do I do?” You asked. 

He smiled with pride and said, “Skating is all about balance. Stand with your feet shoulder width apart, and try to evenly distribute your weight between both feet.”

You did as you were told, and you already felt a bit better. He nodded with approval. “I'm going to have to let go of you for this next part, okay?”

Your eyes widened in fear, but you swallowed and nodded.

He smiled reassuringly as he slowly took his hand from yours and skated back the slightest bit. “Before you can glide, like you see most skaters do, you're going to march.”

“March?” You asked skeptically.

Azriel laughed, his face lighting up, and you felt your heart thunder in response. You weren't sure you had ever made him laugh before. “Just trust me, okay? Lift one foot up and bring it forward, then do it again with the other. This helps you learn to balance and rely on the skate that's still on the ice.”

When you hesitated, he skated closer to you, and took your hand in his again. “You've got this.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, and he took his cue to skate in front of you.

Following his instructions, you slowly and awkwardly marched, your movements unsure and wobbly, but at least you hadn't fallen yet.

“Is this how you learned to skate?” You asked, needing a distraction.

He barked out a laugh again. “No. I didn't have anybody to teach me, so I mostly just fell on my ass a lot until I figured out what to do.”

Your heart ached for little Azriel. You didn't know much about his past, but you did know it was a lonely, painful one. 

Suddenly, you wobbled significantly, and Azriel said, “Put your hands on your knees whenever you need to regain your balance.”

Quickly you dropped your hands to your knees and felt more steady.

After a while, you felt confident enough to start skating for real, and Azriel walked you through the motions, his eyes laser focused on every movement you made. 

As soon as you started trying to mimic his movements, you fell. Hard.

He winced, skating over to you. “You okay?”

You nodded, trying to keep your breathing even.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Despite the pain, his words sent a wave of heat through you. Blinking up at him, you said, “Excuse me?”

His eyes widened slightly, the smallest smile on his face. He cleared his throat. “To get up. You need to start from your hands and knees.”

Your cheeks burned as you maneuvered yourself like he told you. You looked up at him. “Now what?”

Azriel's breathing seemed slightly labored, his eyes burning as he looked down at you. You felt like you could hardly breathe. He swallowed, then said, “Put one skate on the ice, balance yourself with your hands, then push yourself up to standing.”

You tried to follow his instructions, but as soon as you got to your feet, your balance was completely off and you would have fallen again if Azriel hadn't quickly gripped your waist, keeping you steady.

He was so close to you that you could feel the heat from his body. You looked up into his eyes, utterly mesmerized, unable to move.

For a few moments, he just held you, eyes boring into yours. Finally he said, “Ready to try again?”

“Okay,” you said quietly, but you didn't move, unwilling to be the one to pull away from him.

It took another moment for him to remove his hands from you, and you instantly felt cold at the absence of him.

Azriel skated backwards, urging you to catch up to him.

You started moving, focusing on the instructions that he gave you, your eyes continuously glancing down to your feet.

“Don't look down, just look at me,” he said gruffly.

You obeyed, your eyes latching onto his. It was steadying, his gaze. In a few moments, you actually did catch up to him, and you were so excited that you forgot to focus on your movements.

You tumbled into Azriel, bringing him down on the ice with you.

He landed on his back with a groan and you landed on top of him, your head landing on his chest.

“I'm so sorry,” you said, starting to scramble up, but his hands landed on your waist again and you couldn't bring yourself to move.

You looked into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest. Even through his sweatshirt, you could feel the hard lines of his muscles. You could hardly breathe.

He lightly brushed a lock of hair off your forehead, his eyes tracing down your face. “Don't be sorry,” he said, his voice huskier than you'd ever heard it.

Without even realizing you were doing it, you inched your face closer and closer to his, like you were being drawn in by a magnet. 

His hand cupped your cheek gently. He whispered your name. And then his lips were on yours.

An electric shock jolted through your body. You leaned even further into him as he kissed you so gently that you thought you might weep.

Your hands traveled up to his face, his hair. His fingers tightened on your waist, and he groaned quietly as you deepened the kiss. 

Suddenly, he pulled away, sitting up, sliding you off of him. “I’m sorry… We shouldn’t.”

Your heart plummeted. “Why?”

He looked pained as he saw the hurt on your face, putting distance between the two of you again. “Cassian,” he said gruffly. “He would kill me.”

“You think he would?” You asked. In all the years that you had been crushing on Azriel, you had never considered how Cassian would feel if the two of you actually got together. 

Azriel let out a humorless laugh. “You’re his little sister. He’s more protective of you than anyone else. Remember how we had to stop him from beating up that guy who broke up with you?”

You did remember. Cassian had been more mad about that breakup than you were. 

“Az,” you said, willing yourself to say the words you had been keeping to yourself for so long. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time… If you feel the same way, we shouldn’t let Cassian get in the way.”

His eyes widened as he studied you, his gaze lingering on your mouth. “I never knew,” he said quietly. 

Before you could say anything else, he was pulling you back into him, kissing you harder than before, his movements faster, more sure as he twined his fingers into your hair. 

You gasped at the sudden change in his demeanor. 

It was impossible to tell how long it was that you and Azriel sat on the cold ice, exploring each other for the first time. 

When he finally pulled away, gazing into your eyes, you said, “Maybe he doesn’t have to know. Not yet.”

And just like that, everything changed. 

---  

Azriel had never felt this way in his life. You and him had been sneaking around for the past several weeks, going on dates, and he could hardly believe it. 

You were incredible. Absolutely incredible, and he thanked his lucky stars every day that you were giving him the time of day. 

But then he would think about Cassian, what he would do when he found out, and Azriel would feel so incredibly panicked and guilty that he could hardly function. 

You weren't doing anything wrong. He knew that. You were two consenting adults spending time together.

The sneaking around was getting difficult though. He didn't like hiding anything from his best friend.

“You okay?” You asked beside him, threading your fingers with his.

His heart leaped at how casually you did it, how comfortable it was between you so quickly. He had taken you out to eat downtown, and now you two were taking a walk through the city, the lights twinkling, dancing off your skin.

“Fine,” he said, smiling down at you. 

“Stressing about Cassian?”

He couldn't help but laugh at how quickly you were able to read him. “I’ve just never hidden anything from him.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “We can tell him, if you want to.”

“We should soon. I just don't know how he's going to react.”

You nodded, and he could tell that you were just as nervous as he was. 

He stopped you with a hand on your arm, leading you into an alcove off of the sidewalk. “It'll be okay,” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “We'll tell him when we're ready.” He leaned down and kissed you gently, and you leaned into him, sighing happily.

---

The day of Cassian's party rolled around, and you walked in with him, carrying a platter of appetizers that you made for him. The whole hockey team, as well as their friends and families were milling around the coach’s massive backyard.

Azriel stood out to you like a beacon in the crowd. You had always felt like you could sense his presence, no matter how many people there were or where he was in any given room. You longed to run right to him, but you knew you couldn’t. 

It was too soon, you kept telling yourself. You and Azriel were still figuring out exactly what you were, and you didn’t want to complicate things between the two of you by letting other people get involved or give their opinion. 

You knew everyone on the team at least a little bit, so you mingled through the crowd until you finally found your way over to Azriel, looking up to find that his eyes were already on you. 

“Hi,” you smiled. 

The side of his mouth quirked up slightly, and you knew he was holding in a smile. He stepped a little closer to you, and you longed to hold his hand, to touch him.

Before either of you could say anything else, Cassian strided up, grinning. “You guys wanna go eat?”

You reigned in a sigh, and focused your attention on Cassian. “Sure,” you said, following him, and shooting a smile over your shoulder at Azriel as he followed. 

The three of you each grabbed a plate of food, then settled in at a crowded picnic table. Azriel slid in next to you as Cassian took the seat opposite. 

“So, I never asked, how did those skating lessons go?” Cassian asked as he dug into his plate. 

You swallowed, and nearly jumped out of your seat as Azriel’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing lightly. “It was good,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. 

“She’s a really great student,” Azriel said, his eyes on his plate as his thumb ran slow circles over your skin. 

You took a big drink of water to stop yourself from flushing as his hand wandered higher. 

“Seriously? How many times did you fall?” Cassian asked, clearly amused. 

Azriel’s grip tightened on your thigh, probably remembering just like you were, what had happened when you had fallen. “Only a few, actually,” you said, forcing yourself to keep your eyes locked on Cassian. 

“Impressive. You gonna be playing hockey with us anytime soon?” 

You forced out a laugh. “Definitely not. I’ll need a lot more lessons if I have any hope of that.”

Azriel finally looked at you, offering you the faintest of smiles. “Whenever you want another lesson, just let me know.”

“Okay,” you said casually, turning your attention back to your plate. 

You got through the rest of the party without incident, which was impressive considering all the lingering, discreet touches that Azriel kept giving you.

Azriel came to your apartment after the party had ended. As soon as he walked through the door, he had you up against the wall, kissing you fiercely. 

“You were driving me crazy,” you gasped as he kissed down your neck. 

He laughed into your skin. “You think you weren’t doing the same to me?”

His hands trailed from your face, down your body, lingering on your hips before landing on your ass. 

You moaned quietly, taking his hand in yours and leading him to your bedroom. 

He raised his eyebrows in question as you closed the door behind you. 

Wordlessly, you stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It started out slowly, gently, but quickly turned heated. 

Grabbing the front of his shirt, you pulled him towards your bed and fell back onto it, tugging on his hand to pull him down over you. You toyed with the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it to the side. 

Your hands explored his abs, his shoulders, your breath catching at the pure muscle as he kissed your neck down to your collarbone. 

When your hands settled on his belt buckle and started undoing it, Azriel caught your wrist, stilling you. He looked into your eyes, flooded with emotion. “Are you sure?”

You cupped his cheek, studying his face for a moment, your heart swelling with love. “I’m sure.” 

He smiled for a moment, leaning in to kiss you gently before he let go of your wrist. Your hands wandered back down and slowly undid his belt buckle, pushing his pants down past his hips, and he kicked them off from there, not breaking his kiss. 

He pulled back slightly to look at you as he slid the straps of your dress down your arms, kissing your bare shoulders, your exposed chest. He slid your dress down further, just past your breasts. He hummed happily as he ran his tongue over one nipple, his fingers toying with the other. Your toes curled as he raked his teeth along your chest. 

Azriel kept pulling your dress down slowly, kissing his way gently down your stomach, down your legs, until the dress was tossed to the floor. 

“You’re everything,” he murmured, his gaze raking down your naked body. 

You smiled, your heart thundering as you placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. 

He kissed his way back down your body then, pausing momentarily at your panties, before looking up to you with a smirk, and pulling them down your legs with his teeth.

You gasped as he settled between your legs, licking a line straight up your center, before his tongue dove into you, while his thumb pressed on your clit. 

“Azriel,” you moaned, burying your hands in his hair. 

This just spurred him on further, as he took your ankles in his hands and wrapped your legs around his head, burying himself even deeper in you. 

“Az,” you groaned after a while. “I need you.”

He looked up at you, grinning, before sitting up on his knees, sliding his boxers off, and settling himself over you, his eyes locked on yours. “You ready for me?”

You nodded, your hand threading through the hair at the back of his neck as the other clutched his shoulder. “Please.”

Azriel smiled, nuzzling your nose with his for a moment before he kissed you sweetly, as he slowly slid into you inch by inch. 

He paused when he was fully inside you, pulling back slightly to study your face. 

“I’m good,” you smiled. “More. Now. Please.”

He chuckled, then did as he was told, sliding in and out of you in slow, deep thrusts. 

You groaned, your hands sliding down his muscled back as he leaned down, resting his head in the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly into your skin. 

Together you moved in tandem, until you both found your release, gasping. 

Azriel rolled off of you, pulling your body against his, holding you close. You felt so safe and content, you couldn’t believe it had taken the two of you so long to get to this point.

---

The locker room was empty before the game started. His teammates knew that Azriel often liked to be alone, especially before important games. If they won tonight, they would be in the playoffs. Tensions were high for everyone. 

He was pulling his gear on when you came up behind him, leaning against one of the lockers. You were wearing the team’s colors, your hair tied up with red and gold ribbons, just like the first time he saw you. His heart leaped, as it always did. “How are you feeling?” You asked. 

Azriel shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Better now that you’re here.”

You smiled, leaning into his chest. “You’ve got it, Az.” 

He placed his index finger under your chin, gently tilting your face up to look at him. “Thank you for being here,” he said, kissing you softly. 

Suddenly, you heard someone coming into the locker room, and the two of you sprung apart. Azriel ushered you out the opposite door, into the hallway, near the locker room for the other team.

The two of you breathed a sigh of relief, and Azriel couldn’t help but bring your body to his again. It calmed him down, settled his nerves, to be close to you. 

You tilted your face up to meet his lips in a kiss, and the world melted away until a player from the other team walked out of the locker room, smirking at the two of you. 

“Casey,” Azriel said, his hand resting on the small of your back, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t know Casey well, but he did know that he was an asshole.

Casey looked between the two of you, smirking, before sauntering away without a word. 

Azriel immediately located you as he and his team went out onto the ice. You were out of your seat, clapping and cheering, your eyes locked on him, your smile bright. 

By the second period, Azriel’s team was up two to one, and the other team seemed to be feeling the heat. 

Casey smirked at Azriel as they faced off before the buzzer sounded. “Who was that you were getting cozy with, huh Azriel? Didn't seem like you wanted anyone to know you were with her.”

Azriel knew that he was being baited. He tried to reign in his temper, to keep his cool. He tried to remind himself how important this game was, that he couldn’t afford a penalty right now. 

But then Casey said, “I can see why. She's not exactly spotlight material, is she?”

A growl released from deep in Azriel’s throat, and he launched himself at Casey, slamming him into the ice, before reeling his arm back and connecting his fist with Casey’s jaw. 

Within moments, he was being pulled away and sent to the penalty box, his head spinning, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this to his teammates, to Cassian. He cursed himself for letting Casey get to him, for knowing exactly which buttons to push. 

---

Luckily, they still won the game, despite Azriel’s outburst at the beginning of the final period. You couldn’t comprehend what could have possibly happened to get this reaction from him, and you felt awful as you watched him sitting solemnly in the penalty box while Cassian tried to pull the team together and keep their lead. 

You left right after the game, not wanting to get involved in whatever you knew would go down between Azriel and Cassian. 

Later, after Azriel asked you to come over to his apartment, you practically raced over there, dying to know what happened. 

As soon as he opened the door, his arms were around you, holding you to him like you were the only thing keeping his feet on the ground. 

“Are you okay?” 

He sighed, kissing the top of your head. “I’m getting there. Cassian chewed me out, but I think we’re okay.”

“What happened?” You asked. 

“It was the guy who saw us out in the hallway. He was… he was talking about you. I knew he was baiting me, but I still couldn’t keep it in.”

“It was because of me?”

“No,” he said, running his thumb along your cheekbone. “It was because of him. He just must have known what would make me mad.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. “I’m sorry. What did you tell Cassian?”

“That I was feeling tense because of the playoffs, and he baited me,” he raised one shoulder into a shrug. “He didn’t ask for specifics.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys are okay. Congrats on making the playoffs, by the way,” you smiled. 

Azriel smiled faintly, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You sighed, leaning into him further. “We’re going to have to tell him.”

“I know,” he said. “Soon.”

The two of you looked at each other, anchoring yourselves in one another. 

---

For weeks, Azriel had been traveling all over the country with the team for the playoffs, and the two of you had kept in contact as much as possible, face timing whenever Azriel could get alone and texting as often as he could.

Finally, they were playing at home again, the last game before the championship. You didn't want to be a distraction for Az, so you went right to your seat, as close to the ice as you could get. 

You watched them play with bated breath, your eyes glued to Azriel as he soared across the ice. Just before the end of the second period, Azriel made a slapshot, the puck flying right between the goalie's legs and into the net, bringing your team ahead by one. 

The fans erupted into a thunderous applause and as the buzzer sounded, Azriel's eyes locked on you, a grin on his face, his eyes shining. You had no idea how he always managed to find you in a sea of people, but it sent butterflies through your chest every single time.

The energy was high as the players moved into the final period. It seemed like Az's team would take the win without much of a fight from the opponents until the unimaginable happened.

The opponent’s center roughly checked Azriel's shoulder, and when Az stumbled, the center slammed Azriel into the wall, hard. Azriel collapsed onto the ground and another player collided with him.

Even from where you were, you could hear Azriel cry out as he brought his leg up to his chest, wincing in pain.

“Azriel!” You shot up from your seat immediately, racing to the other side of the tunnel where you knew they would take him, praying that they would let you through.

In the chaos, nobody batted an eye at you, and you were waiting for him when Azriel limped into the tunnel, the coach and Cassian holding him up on either side. 

“Az!” You cried, tears brimming in your eyes as you ran up to him, unable to think about the consequences, or anything other than him. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as gently as you could, and he snaked an arm around your waist. “I'm okay,” he said.

Cassian looked between the two of you, his brow furrowed. “What are you freaking out about? It's probably just a sprain.”

“Oh,” you said hesitantly, forcing yourself to take a step back, out of reach. You looked up at Azriel though. “Are you sure? You looked like you were in a lot of pain.”

He smiled faintly at you, his eyes twinkling. You could tell that he appreciated that you were concerned about him. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Cassian continued to look between the two of you skeptically, then cleared his throat. “I need to get back out there.”

Azriel nodded to both Cassian and their coach. “I can make it by myself.”

They seemed to hesitate, but nodded, and you helped Azriel make his way to see the medics. 

After his ankle was wrapped and it was proven to be just a sprain, you sat with Azriel, running your hand through his hair, leaning against him.

“You were really worried about me back there, huh?” He smiled, kissing your temple.

“Of course I was! I--” you broke off hastily, stopping yourself from saying what you had been feeling for weeks now.

He looked at you expectantly though, raising an eyebrow. “You… what?”

You took a deep breath, and looked into his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you, Az.”

His eyes swarmed with emotions for a moment before a smile lit up his face and he kissed you. “I love you, too,” he said.

Moments later, the team rushed into the space, whooping and cheering.

You grinned at Azriel, “Looks like you guys are going to the championship.”

Azriel's smile grew, and he pulled you to him, laughing, before kissing the top of your head.

“I knew it,” Cassian's voice cut through the noise, and you and Azriel froze, looking up to find him staring at the two of you.

“Cass-” you started, but he cut you off.

“What the fuck, guys? How long has this been going on?”

You glanced at Azriel, who settled his hand at your waist comfortingly before looking up to Cassian. “A few months.” 

“Months?” Cassian asked incredulously. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“We weren't sure how you would react,” you said quietly, shrinking into Azriel's side slightly.

Cassian scoffed. “You know what's worse than my best friend dating my little sister? Both of them lying to me about it for months.”

“Cass-” you tried again, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“If we keep talking about this now, I'm going to say something I'll regret,” he said, his voice low. 

He left without another word, throwing a final harrowing glance back at the two of you.

Your heart sank.

---

For days, Cassian avoided Azriel at practice, and from what he’d heard, Cassian wasn’t talking to you at all either. 

“Come on, Cass,” Azriel groaned after practice. “Please talk to me?”

Cassian rounded on him, his eyes burning. “About what? What do you want to talk about?” he said furiously. But then all the tension left his body suddenly and he just looked at Azriel sadly. “She’s my sister, Az. How could you keep this from me?”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We thought it would be best until we… figured things out. We didn’t want to get you all freaked out if it didn’t go anywhere.”

“And is it? Going anywhere?” Cassian asked. 

Azriel swallowed, he felt his jaw tick. “I love her, Cassian. And she loves me.”

Cassian swore, rolling his eyes. “So at what point were you going to tell me?”

“I -- don’t know,” Azriel said honestly. “I’m so sorry. We both are.”

They were both silent for a moment, until Cassian blew out a breath and said, “Just give me some time, okay? I’m happy for you both, but… I’m going to need time to stop being pissed at you both for lying to me.”

Azriel nodded, partially relieved. Time, he could handle. 

The championship game finally came, and though Azriel and Cassian weren’t quite at the point that they used to be, things were slowly getting better between them. 

Cassian gathered the team before the game, hyping them up, always the strong captain leading his troops into battle. 

The game went by quickly, and every time Azriel would feel some pain in his ankle or get caught up in the stress or the pressure, his eyes would find you, and your smile would ground him, help him lock back into the game, to the task at hand. 

There were only a few seconds left in the game when Azriel found an opening, slapping the puck past the goalie and into the net. 

The crowd cheered, but Azriel only had eyes for you. You formed your hands into a heart and held it up toward him as you cheered, blowing him a kiss. 

The final buzzer sounded off, and everyone celebrated around him, yelling and thumping their chests, thrusting their hockey sticks into the air. Cassian was about to hand him the trophy, but Azriel smirked before skating over to where you were waiting on the sidelines, lifting you up and setting you onto the ice before bending you over his arm and kissing you like he’s never kissed anyone before. 

He could feel you smile against his lips, your hands gripping him for dear life. 

Later, after interviews and photos and speeches, Azriel pulled his jersey over his head and tossed it to you. 

You looked up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement before you slipped it over your head. It was huge on you, and you laughed as you rolled up the sleeves and the hem, tucking it into the front of your jeans. 

“How does it look?”

He growled quietly, pulling your body into his. “Like I want to hear you scream my name while you wear nothing but the jersey.”

Your eyes widened, biting your lip. 

Before Azriel could get any further into his fantasies though, Cassian sauntered up to the two of you, smiling. 

“Hey, it’s my brother, the captain of the champions!” you grinned, bounding up to him and giving him a hug. 

Cassian grinned, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Look,” he said, leveling you both with a serious expression as you pulled away and went back to Azriel’s side. “I love you both, and I’m happy for you, so I’m not going to hold a grudge. It must be the real thing if Az just blew off the trophy like it was nothing,” Cassian smirked at Azriel. “But don’t lie to me ever again,” he said. 

“We won’t,” you cut in quickly, looking at Cassian with pleading eyes. “We’re so sorry, Cass.”

“I know you are,” Cassian said. “Now, let’s go celebrate, shall we?”

Azriel guided you through the huge party long into the night, not taking his hand off you for a moment, showing the whole world who his heart belonged to.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @melmo567 @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @andreperez11

[am-i-interrupting]

hi hi hiii !!

idk if you're still doing requests for Arcane, but if you are, I'd love to see Ekko, Victor, Jinx (and any other characters of your choice) with an s/o that's really good with with kids? maybe they could be a teacher/ mentor or babysitter but just very much loving caregiver vibes for any and all kids they come across

Caitlyn

She loves seeing you with kids, in your element.

She thinks it’s cute to see the way kids hang onto your every word and the way you teach them without them even noticing.

She will pop in on you with kids carrying toys and games.

She does enjoy kids company as well and they do like her but maybe mostly because she’s an enforcer and she brings them toys.

Sometimes she’ll find herself watching you with a kid (especially if that kid looks like either one of you) and daydreaming about somewhere in the distant future where you two would have one of you own.

Ekko

He’s not the best with kids himself. He’s not bad by any means but he can find himself often freezing up and unsure what to do.

This caused him to find it fascinating how good you are with them when he finds himself floundering.

When the Firelights have to go on missions often times the ones who have kids will leave them with you.

Upon arriving back, he will spend a minute just watching you doting on the kids.

He is just so enraptured in everything you do and that includes your ability to form relationships with kids.

Jinx

There aren’t many kids in the areas Jinx grew up. Not too many parents are gonna bring their kids into what is now essentially a club.

The first time she saw you with a kid was one of the times you went outside together. She had stepped away from the kid crying on the street, her hand instinctively on her gun, and she got itchy when she saw you approach.

She didn’t say anything she just watched as you crouched down to the kid’s level and started calming them down.

Slowly but surely her hand on her gun went slack and she just watched you enthralled.

When you offered to walk the kid back home and they agreed and you started leading them to her, she just looked at them wide eyed as she cocked her head, her braids pooling on the ground as a result, and waved her hand.

The kid hid behind your leg but you reached out and grabbed her hand and slowly the kid got more comfortable around Jinx on the way to their house.

Later that night Jinx was tracing the seam lines on your shirt and asked you what you thought about kids.

Silco

He would find it amusing how good you are with kids that aren’t his.

It’s almost like he indulges in watching you with them but in an almost smug way as he is with everything.

Seeing you be good with Jinx though changes everything. It completely knocks him off his guard.

Watching you play with her and make her smile makes him soft.

If you’re there when Jinx is having a mental health moment, she’ll cling to you and beg you to make it stop while you do your best to calm her down.

The emotions he feels is a combination of sadness, sympathy, and oddly pride in those moments.

For other kids, he couldn’t care less about how you interact with them but when it’s his, it means the world to him.

Viktor

He’s not good with kids himself. Those pivotal years of learning to make connections were stolen from him because of his inability to do things so many others could and kids having a habit of being cruel, especially in the lanes.

Seeing you with kids is something like a case study to him.

He finds it fascinating and seems to almost take notes on what you’re doing.

He would never engage for the longest time with any kids that were under your watch unless they directly asked him questions.

Then one day, he just did and they adored him, not as much as they adored you but it was a close thing.

They would like him for the fact that he refuses to talk to them like they’re idiots and indulged them in their endless curiosity.

You find a notebook later on filled with things that you did around the kids (even something as small as your tone of voice) that made you realize he was mimicking what you did in his own way.

[monstertreden]

✦ BE(E) MY DATE? ✦

-Reader: FEM reader -TW: none, just an adorable bee -Character: Bumblebee (Transformers movie 2018) -Summary: Bumblebee is trying to get accustomed to earth traditions in order to impress his favourite human -Word count : 1448 A/N: This was an anonymous request of a while back. I went with the Fem Pov, but this could be read with a GN reader too. What a way to open this 2025! Wish you all the best things in the world!🍀

The evening sky was starting to feel more alive as stars emerged one by one. With no light pollution ruining this view, the atmosphere felt so relaxing, a quiet peak for living in such a peaceful town. Your home garden was glowing, illuminated by tiny star-shaped lights strung around the tree branches. In the middle of it all stood a cheerful, giant yellow bot. He fumbled with his radio, playing different romantic songs as he tried to find justtt the right one to set the perfect mood. Bumblebee was buzzing with excitement, unable to wait another hour until you got home from your job and spend the rest of the night with him outdoors. Today had been a little different. It had been hours since you’d left for work and you’d insisted on taking the bus to work, much to Bumblebee’s dismay. He’d watched you wave goodbye as he beeped sadly…but once you were out of sight, his little antennas perked up and twitched like bunny ears: if he couldn’t spend all day with you then he would make that night unforgettable! The thought had driven him all afternoon as he kept carefully arranging what he had gathered, it had to be perfect because you deserve nothing less!

A jazzy love song hummed through his speakers before he quickly cut it off again, second-guessing his choice, followed by an upsetting beep.

Postponing his final decision on the special song, Bumblebee turned his attention to the messy setup he had previously sprawled on the flower-patched blanket… one he might have “borrowed” from her bedroom through the window…ops, but it was one of his favorite too, one you often shared with him while watching some movies back in the garage, other than being soft, it fitted the romantic vibe he was striving for. Smothering the blanket again, having spotted a small wrinkle,  his digits fidgeted slightly with the patch of wildflowers he had directly plucked from the ground earlier, ensuring they looked intentional rather than, well… stolen. Were there enough flowers? Or were they too many? He tilted his helm as if reconsidering his choice, before turning to the unplugged microwave, that somehow contained various cookies inside and the carefully inclined projector screen propped up against the white wall of your home. The screen’s angle had been adjusted multiple times until he was satisfied, though he still glanced at it every few moments to make sure it hadn’t shifted.

It had taken him ages to figure out how humans got their movie setups just right, and, even now, he still wasn’t sure he had nailed it. Beside it, a wicker basket was overfilled with treats he’d seen you enjoy: chips, candies, and a variety of drinks, so many you wouldn’t go hungry... though he had no idea what half of them tasted like...Would you notice the missing bags of sour candies? He might’ve… tested one or two. For science. Did you have that many treats in your kitchen cabinets though? Of course not, the truth was that some, well, most of the items inside weren’t “exactly” yours. The yellow bot had borrowed, again, okay, maybe taken a few things from the local store storage without paying, but only because he still didn’t understand how human transactions worked. Plus, wasn’t food meant to be shared? You loved snacks! And he wanted the best ones for you!

“Cool and smooth!”. He echoed the phrase to himself, with the enthusiasm of a DJ who knew what they were doing. Excitement and anxiousness coursed through his circuits, he had seen countless Earth movies and TV series with you, how your face lit up when romantic picnics were on-screen. “Aren’t they adorable, Bee?” you’d sighed, smiling softly at a scene where a couple sat under the stars, and he was determined to give her exactly that.

The wildflowers kept sprawling all over each time Bumblebee tried to grab one, he didn’t bring a vase since he was scared of accidentally breaking one, so he decided with clumsy digits to open a soda can, yes..maybe that would do.. “Careful...”  Tipping the can towards his faceplate, he fussed over not being able to open it. Shaking it, hoping it would loosen, and when it seemed he had made it, it sprayed all over his faceplate, making him stumble over with a distressed beep. A wrong footing and there was a loud crunch. Bumblebee froze. Slowly looking down, he realized his foot had landed squarely on a package of cookies, reducing them to crumbs. “Dang it!” he buzzed through the radio, frustration laced with nervousness. He frantically crouched and scooped up the squished wrapper, already berating himself.

But Bumblebee wasn’t one to back down so easily. He straightened up, the crumpled pack of cookies still in his hand. Carefully, the bit tucked it back into the end of the basket, there were so many after all. Next, he picked up the empty soda can and went to toss it in the garbage bin, only for his gaze to land on a small empty glass jar you’d had left for recycling. That was perfect! It was risky managing glass, but it was his only choice. After arranging the wildflowers in the jar, he stepped back to admire his work. The bright blooms stood proudly in their makeshift vase; A triumphant beep escaped his radio.

However, waiting for you to get home from your job was the worst part. Bee leaned on the side of the blanket staring at the darkening sky, his pedes shifting restlessly against the ground as his optics traced the constellations beginning to shine above.

ᯓ★

The distant hum of the bus made Bumblebee buzz with anticipation as he scrambled quickly to double-check the lights and blanket one last time, his excitement nearly spilled over. Tonight was truly special, and he couldn’t wait to spend it with you, just the two of you, under the stars.

When you reached the garden, Bumblebee greeted you enthusiastically, using a series of radio clips to invite you, his favourite human, to sit down. “Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder” played softly from his speakers as he immediately handled the microwave, shaking its contents inside, beeping excitedly for you to open it.

A mixture of surprise painted your face “Aww Bee” You gently lowered down his servos so he couldn’t accidentally destroy your microwave and reached for him instead, your hands lightly cradling his side faceplate. His optics blinked rapidly in surprise, and his helm tilted curiously to the side as if trying to process your gesture. “This is..nice, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Thank you” For a moment, Bumblebee froze, his circuits whirring as if he’d been short-circuited by your words. His servos twitched at his sides, unsure whether to move or stay still. His radio crackled before settling on a slightly awkward but heartfelt clip. “You’re welcome my darling!!” Bumblebee immediately winced at his choice, but you only chuckled.

Your hands slipped away, and he missed the warmth almost instantly. You took a step back to take in everything he’d prepared, from the spread blanket, the slightly crumpled flowers, and the crookedly angled projector screen. You took a mental note to maybe teach him not to pluck bunches of flowers from your garden next time

“You went through all this… for me?” you asked, to which Bumblebee gave a small nod, his frame shifting nervously. His radio played hesitantly, “-It’s no big deal-” but the way he was fidgeting said otherwise.

“No,no ! it’s a huge deal,” Your smile grew as you crouched to fix the corner of the blanket. “Heck! You even got my favorite snacks.Look!” Maybe it was best not to ask him where the hell he took all of these goods, eyes lighting up when you spotted the assortment. “Bee, this is amazing. Seriously! After an exhausting day, this is all I need”

He melted at her reaction and his optics softened. Gathering his courage, he turned on the projector with a flick of his servo.  Soon, the screen lit up, casting a warm glow against the wall.

He beeped as if to ask “Shall we?”

Your grin widened. “We shall.”

Once you finally settled onto the blanket, patting the spot beside you Bumblebee carefully maneuvered himself, trying to sit without squishing anything else. He adjusted his position until he was beside you, his large frame curling slightly to fit in the cozy space. As the movie began to play, you leaned against him, resting your head against his cool plating. He was happy to start the first days of the new year with you like this.

“Next time, we’ll organize a date together”

[fireheartpages]

free falling | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter four. series masterist summary: everyone has their demons, you just chose to run from yours. straight to basgiath war college. and definitely not towards the grinning tall, dark, and handsome marked rider that seemed too kind to be in a hardened place like the rider's quadrant. when you catch his attention and bond a conundrum of a dragon, you finally feel like you can catch your breath. word count: 2.9k ish maybe a bit more note: second person pov--reader has she/her pronouns, a nickname stolen from dirty dancing, and a last name for continuity purposes. warning for daddy issues, and not xaden's. use of surfing techniques to ride a dragon. someone tell me to shut up why is this chapter so long. i havent even gotten to the point yet. another one is probably coming if not tonight, tomorrow. warning for my proofreading skills theyre really bad even when im not drunk and tired

This boy was everywhere.

The mess hall at breakfast. Battle Brief. Challenges and gym. The flight field. The courtyard after class.

And every time you saw him, he had that lopsided grin, like he was saving it just for you.

Sometimes you two would talk. Sometimes it was just a fleeting look or glance, stolen in between moments that made your gravity shift until you were orbiting him. Sometimes, when you did interact, it wasn't for very long--there were always people around you. Rhiannon and Sawyer pulling you to the library, Garrick and Imogen pulling him to the gym. Your conversations took the back seat to Xaden and Violet's bickering (you would pick sides and place bets on the conclusions when this happened). But sometimes, in a rare moment when you would catch each other and you were both alone, he would walk you to your next class, or your dorm. Sometimes he would leave his friends to do so. Sometimes it all gave you a fuzzy feeling, right in the center of your chest.

It was one of those rare moments. He had seen you across the courtyard and said a quick goodbye to his friends--who proceeded to laugh and wolf whistle as he jogged over to you.

You weren't blind, and you weren't stupid. You knew what this was, this growing spark between you. Knew a boy didn't just walk someone to their dorm because they wanted a friend. You just weren't sure you were ready to admit it to yourself yet.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

"Hi." That had become a game between the two of you. It always made you giggle, and you really liked the way he looked at you when you were laughing.

You wrung your hands together, tightening the gloves you wore, more as a nervous habit than anything. Shocair had insisted you get better gloves, even suggested you take her scales and make some yourself. And when you had pointed out that you wouldn't know how to do that, she had scoffed and given you a mental eye roll. She was really good at that.

"How are your hands?" Bodhi asked. "Is the balm helping?"

The balm he had gotten made for you. To help the cracking and peeling skin of your palms. The one he had noticed you had a need for, gone to a healer to have made, and brought directly to you.

"Yeah," you said. "I think it is. A lot, thank you."

"Yeah," Bodhi said. "How much do you have left?"

You cocked your head. "About half."

He just nodded, and slid you one of those lopsided grins before offering to walk you back to your room.

And a month later, he had shown up at your door with a new tin of it, and you let him walk you to breakfast that morning.

You hadn't really been alone together, though. If you weren't with one of your friend groups--which had melded together by now, considering the way Violet and Xaden tended to revolve around each other--you were walking through crowded courtyard and buildings and hallways. Which was fine. You weren't expecting anything.

"Liar." That was Shocair. She had taken a liking to Bodhi.

It was comments like that that had prompted you to figure out grounding and shielding prematurely. Turns out, you’re a natural, and one of the strongest in your year. Shocair was annoyed by the development, but nonetheless impressed.

“I chose you for your mind,” she had said. “Do you expect me to be surprised when you excel?”

Despite her grumbling and chiding, and pretending like she wasn’t happy with your progress, Shocair was the most supportive relationship you’d ever had. You’d answer a question in a class that no one else had thought of and receive a hum of approval in your chest, and she never chided you for making mistakes during flight maneuvers—and there were a lot of them—just gently corrected you until you figured it out.

When you had succeeded as a child, your father had always acted like you met expectations, and your mom was never around long enough to counteract it. So maybe a mother-henning dragon was nice. Kind of. Just a little.

The flying was your favorite though. When you weren’t sitting in the field with her doing work, or dancing around whatever was going on between you and Bodhi, you were on Shocair’s back, flying over the field. Sometimes for practice, sometimes for fun. You’d see Tairn putting Violet through the wringer with incredibly difficult maneuvers, and Shocair would mimic them with more grace, making a dance out of it. An art.

You’d gotten ballsy with it, much to her dismay, but you had the sneaking suspicion she enjoyed it as well, considering the contentment she radiated after every practice and class. You’d taken to walking around on her back, one of the more enjoyable tricks you would pull.

That had started out slowly, and with a lot of protests from Shocair.

“Slow down!” you’d called. Then, mind to mind, “Slow down just a little. Please.”

You felt a flair of curiosity, edged with confusion, but she did as asked.

Slowly, you released your grip and braced your thighs until you had your balance.

“What are you doing?” Shocair snapped.

“Trying something.”

You placed your hands flat on her hide, moving with the dips of the flight and the wind around you until you were able to push to stand. You slipped one foot under yourself, leaning into it and steadying your center before bringing the other one up so you were in a crouch.

“This isn’t as easy as the third years make it look,” you mumbled, more to yourself than anything.

“They have two and a half years of riding experience over you.” The panic that was taking root in your chest wasn’t yours. You ground your feet into the sand of your mental beach, turning your back to the wind of the choppy waters until you had blocked out the feeling, but still leaving the bond open enough to communicate with her.

Slowly, meticulously, you shifted your weight back until you were able to stand, your feet grounded on Shocair’s scales, and you raised onto your fingertips. And then your hands were up.

“I need to know how to do this,” you said to her. “My hands aren’t always going to work like I want them to.”

“And standing mid-flight is your solution?” she growled.

“Do you have a better one?”

There was no answer down the bond, but you could feel the disapproval—and you didn’t need the bond for that.

You kept a bend in your knees, shifting your weight when there was movement, leaning into it to keep your balance. This was it, this was what you excelled at. This was what you were made for.

“Do something,” you said to her. “Let’s test this.”

“I’m not catching you when you fall.”

“Then, I won’t fall.”

You did fall, and she did catch you, and then you tried it again, until you could get the hang of it.

Your biggest hat trick had turned into barrel rolling while standing. That had impressed the fuck out of Kaori. It had been an accident the first time it had happened. Shocair had banked too hard, and you’d gone tumbling, free falling, but she had caught you on her back when she had been able to straighten out, soaring over you before diving under to catch you.

Your landing had knocked the wind out of you. “Do that again!”

“Do you not value your life?”

“Just try it!”

You stood again, getting quicker each time you were able to do it until you were practically able to hop up. She tilted, and you leaned into it until you were practically sliding off of her, and then you jumped.

You fell as she soared over you, and then she banked, finishing out the barrel underneath you, and you landed in a crouch. Your hands had grappled for purchase on the pommel, almost slipping off, but you’d done it. And then did it twice more until you had it down pat.

You’d landed to a multitude of back pats, high fives, and even a handshake from your professor. And despite her grumbling, Shocair was puffing out her chest with pride.

So, you were the best at flight maneuvers, top of the class at battle brief, and fighting with Violet and Rhiannon for top grades in other classes. But it had been nearly five months, and you still didn’t have a signet.

Everyone else did. Sawyer could bend metal and Ridoc could wield ice and Rhiannon could make things disappear and reappear at will. And you had nothing. The power from the bond would make your skin itch sometimes with its intensity, and still nothing.

“It’s fine, Baby. I don’t have mine either,” Violet said with a lightness you did not feel, one day when it was particularly weighing on you. The two of you had shared a look that said everything it needed to.

You were pretty sure the excess magic was triggering the dry patches on your skin. Bodhi had taken to getting you more tins of the balm much more frequently. You had offered to fetch it yourself, asking him to put you in contact with the healer that was making it, but he’d waved you off with some sort of excuse, and kept showing up at your door whenever the tin was low to give you a new one and walk you to class. You’d written the healer—Ané, he’d told you—a thank you note anyway and given it to him to deliver.

It was six months now after Threshing. And you still had no signet to account for, not matter how open the bond was, or how much Shocair channelled into it.

“It will develop in time,” she had said, one day when you’d asked, more full of anxiety than anything. “I know you.”

So you waited. You were sitting in the flight field, leaning up against Shocair’s neck as she dozed. You had a book open in front of you, something you’d found in the archives to study up on signets—since it didn’t seem like yours was coming anytime soon. You flipped the page, the sun smoothing your skin and warming you from the inside out as you lounged.

A rustle through the trees drew your attention, and there he was.

Bodhi stands a few feet away from you, and Shocair stirs, blinking open a golden eye before shutting it again.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say, and like clockwork:

“Hi.”

“Are you coming out for a flight?” you ask, shutting the book in your lap.

“Nah,” Bodhi says, moving closer to you. “Cuir was around here, but I don’t think she’s in the mood. So, I’m just… taking a walk.”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. “I see.”

“What are you reading?”

“A Study on the Magic of a Bond,” you say. “Reading up on signets.”

“Still nothing?” he asks. He sits down in the grass across from you, stretching out his legs, and for a moment, you’re mesmerized by the way the sun reflects the dark strands of his hair, the dark bronze of his skin. He looks like he’s glowing.

He’s beautiful.

“No,” you say after finding your tongue. “No, nothing yet.”

“Has she started channeling?” he asks, glancing to the sleeping dragon behind you.

“Yes.” Your gaze drops.

“It’s okay,” Bodhi says. “It can take a while sometimes.”

“I would just rather not burn up from it if it doesn’t.” You laugh, but it’s a humorless thing.

“You won’t.” His sincerity strikes you straight in the chest, with the surety of it.

You blink. “How long did it take yours?”

“A couple months.” He picks at the grass. “I think it took me a while to figure it out.”

“How so?”

“I had to wait until someone used their signet on me.” He grins, and you get that funny feeling in your chest again. It makes you suck in a breath. “Xaden, actually. He had sent some shadows around me as a joke, and we were all a little surprised when they burned up, basically. Thought light was my signet for a while. Sunlight, or something, but then a fire wielded had thrown something at me, and the flame just kinda sputtered, and even then, it took a few more tries for me to figure it out.”

You nodded slowly. That made sense, countering signets would require a trigger. “Do you have strong shields?”

Bodhi cocks his head. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

You shrug. “I feel like it would come with the territory. Being able to counter any sort of cognitive signet.”

He seems to sit on that for a second. “I don’t think I’ve actually ever tried that. Never needed to, I guess. Or, If I have, I didn't realize I was doing it.”

You hum, and your mind whirls.

“I’ve seen you fly, though,” Bodhi says, surprising you. “You’re amazing up there.”

“You’ve seen me fly?” you repeat, a furrow in your head.

He folds his lips, suppressing a grin, and you’re once again hit with the urge to press your thumbs to them until he smiles again, until he turns those pretty brown eyes on you again. “Yeah. It’s hard not to look. You’re incredible.”

A giggle twists out of you. “Thank you. It’s… fun.”

“Yeah. You enjoy it in a way I’ve never seen before, though.” He’s grinning in earnest again, that invisible string tugging one side of his mouth higher than the other, but his gaze is elsewhere, and you take it as an opportunity to surveil him from head to toe, from his dark curls to the lean muscle to his flight leathers. His very tight flight leathers. Gods above, this guy’s thighs. “You look more comfortable on the back of a dragon, flying at a hundred miles an hour than you do with two feet on the ground.”

You laugh, and his gaze snaps to you. Something in it softens. “I’m serious,” he says. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“It’s nice,” you say. “It reminds me of home. It’s like I can understand how a bird feels now.”

You really hoped Shocair wasn’t privy to that comparison.

“Do you wanna go get dinner?” Bodhi asks, standing, and before you can even answer, he’s extending a hand.

You aren’t wearing your gloves, and you hesitate for a moment before taking his hand anyway. You stand and quickly take yours from his grip, swallowing hard.

“Sorry.” You shake your head.

“For what?” he asks in earnest, and when you meet his eye, you’re suddenly, brutally aware of how close you’re standing.

“I’m not wearing my gloves. I know my hands aren’t very soft.” You laugh it off, but it comes out strained. A mimicry of what it should have been.

A furrow suppresses his dark brows. “Did I hurt—”

“No!” you say quickly. “I just—the skin is scratchy—”

You cut yourself off when he takes your hand in his, cupping the back and facing your palm up. He runs a knuckle along the cracking skin, as if he could smooth it out, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you have the balm?” he asks, and it’s quiet. Like he didn’t want to disturb the space between you.

“Yeah.” You use your other hand to pull the small tin out of the pocket of your leathers, and he uncaps it, dipping a finger in and cradling your hand again as he rubs it over the conjunction of your finger and your palm, right where it was beginning to split. He massages it in, and the relief is nearly instantaneous, surpassing the slight sting of the cold. He repeats with your other hand, until he hands the balm back to you. You tuck it away back into your pocket, and finally, finally look up at him.

He’s already looking at you, and being under his scrutiny like this, all close and personal as you’d imagined a million times, sends a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you,” you say, and it’s more of a breath on the breeze floating between you than anything else.

He nods, but his gaze had drifted down, and now he’s looking at your lips. You swallow, he tracks the motion, and you hope he can’t hear how your heart is beating out of your chest.

“Are you finally going to kiss me?” you ask, unsure where you found the courage.

“Please,” he breathes. “Baby, can I?”

Your name is a plea on his lips, but it doesn’t sound like you name—it sounds like the term of endearment. An honorific. You barely even nod before he’s leaning in. His lips hover over yours, and you can feel his breath fanning your face as you tilt—

Shocair chuffs behind you, and you jump apart.

You’re shaking, and you don’t know if it’s in adrenaline or anticipation as his gaze finds yours, and that lopsided grin is tugging at his lips again.

“Dinner?” he asks, and he extends you his arm.

“Yeah, yeah!” You’re a little too eager to take it. And he leads you back to the school.

“That was on purpose,” you send to Shocair.

“Of course, it was,” she says into your mind. “Make him work for it.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I do.” She sounds snide in your mind. “But he better be worthy of you.”

You send her an eye roll.

“You’re already falling for him. I can’t catch you if you do,” she says, and you nearly scoff aloud.

“I am not falling for him.”

“Sure.” Good gods, are dragons always this sarcastic?

[keepmycandleburning]

There's such a difference between the way Bellatrix talks to Voldemort vs the way the other Death Eaters talk to him.

She starts every single one of the conversations they have. They have five total direct interactions: in the Ministry, at the meeting at Malfoy Manor, in the Forbidden Forest before Harry appears, in the Forbidden Forest after Voldemort falls over, and after they come out of the Forest and Neville throws himself at Voldemort. In three of these five (Ministry, first and second time she tries to interact with him in the Forbidden Forest), Voldemort tells her to stop talking to him. At the meeting he mocks and manipulates her, and at the Battle of Hogwarts he responds with four words. These are not particularly unusual reactions for Voldemort; he tells multiple people to stop talking to him including Wormtail in GoF Ch 1, Nott in GoF Ch 33, and Yaxley in DH 1.

Also notably, Bellatrix uses one of his titles every single time she addresses him. Other Death Eaters who have a similar amount of lines like Lucius, Wormtail, and Snape skip the title on occasion. Bellatrix never drops this respect. (DEs who only have one interaction/conversation with him tend to do it every time.)

With all the other Death Eaters besides Bellatrix, the way Voldemort speaks to them makes sense with the additional information we know about that person and the relationship they have. With Bellatrix, there is a huge misalignment with the way we see them directly interact and the additional information we have about them. Voldemort tells Bellatrix to stop talking over half the time she talks to him publicly, yet he has given her a piece of his soul. He tells her 'be quiet' and then immediately follows it up with a nickname we only see her family call her. She fails him and he immediately saves her anyway—which I have always read as him physically reappearing after possessing Harry and therefore being seen by multiple Ministry officials in order to do so.

Bellatrix speaks critically of Voldemort and his judgement to her sister; when there's something else they're not supposed to say (talking about the plan with Draco) it gets acknowledged by the characters multiple times that they're misbehaving, yet Narcissa doesn't question Bellatrix making this very bold and actually rather blasphemous statement. Snape brings up Voldemort multiple times to mock Bellatrix, and she cuts herself off mid-sentence multiple times ('his most precious—' and 'he...lately we...') from speaking about it. She says he shares 'everything' with her and yet will not say what that is (his most precious what?). Bellatrix confidently speaks for the absent Voldemort at Malfoy Manor, telling Greyback she's 'sure' the Dark Lord will be alright with him taking Hermione. She is more willing to speak for him than she is to speak of what relationship they have privately.

When the cup is stolen and he loses his temper and is killing everyone in the room, he notes where she is and that she's leaving. She places herself in his close physical proximity—almost immediately after the cup was stolen from her vault—in public and he allows it. She talks to him with so much affection that even Harry can note it with his eyes closed, and he declines it and immediately moves on. Her comfort level to physically touch him is so high that she continues trying to do so after he tells her to stop. Her death is the third time he experiences a major loss in a matter of hours (cup, Nagini) and the third time he screams, but the one and only time he loses control of his magic (if he was consciously capable of sending all three of those people flying through the air, he would have done it already).

Compare Bellatrix continuing to try to physically touch Voldemort after he directly tells her to stop to Rookwood cowering on the floor and staying in a partial bow when Voldemort tells him to stand up, or Bellatrix initiating every single conversation she has with Voldemort to Draco being so afraid to speak a word to him that he does not talk at all and just shakes his head or does nothing. Rookwood is clearly terrified that Voldemort is going to physically hurt him for simply providing him information that will upset him, while Bellatrix is so sure Voldemort will not hurt her—again immediately after the cup is stolen—that she sits next to him, talks to him multiple times, and touches him. Bellatrix leans toward him, for mere words can't demonstrate her longing for closeness, and the Malfoys won't even make eye contact.

There's a major disconnect with what they're directly saying and the whole picture. These are two people who very clearly have on off-screen relationship that is substantially different from their on-screen relationship. One that Bellatrix believes she needs to keep private even from other Death Eaters. One that has caused her to believe she has the authority to speak in his place when he's not there. One that has led Bellatrix to believe it is alright for her to initiate conversations with him, to be physically close to him, to touch him. One that has given her some reason to believe she should—even, perhaps, that he wants or needs her to—continue to try to touch him after he declines it.

On-screen he places her halfway down the table, off-screen he gives her his soul to keep safe. Off-screen he's telling her she's his most loyal, his most faithful, he's sharing everything with her, while on-screen he tells her 'that will do.'

The word 'lover,' while it's used in the series a handful of times in the context of 'Mudblood-lover' or 'cat lover,' is used in the context of an object of one's affection once and only once.