#would it have been to far fetched to see what that looked like between her and rio before the Nicky of it all

[stylinsoncity]

a little snippet from the thrill of it all...

Harry pauses at the doorway to the lunchroom with a Tupperware bowl held in his hands. Over by the microwave, Louis and Kate pause too. A half-second later, Kate returns to her story about a recent trip to London.

Louis’ gaze lingers.

With a shallow exhale, Harry steps into the lunchroom. “Sorry,” he says, gesturing with the Tupperware bowl. “I just need the microwave.”

“Whoops, sorry,” says Kate and noticeably sets her hand on Louis’ forearm as if to guide him out of the way, as if he needs guiding. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever had the urge to hiss until now. He feels his gums ache as he quickly puts his back to them.

He shoves the bowl into the microwave a bit roughly, jostling some soup that he’ll have to wipe up later, and sets the timer. He sets it high because the microwave sucks and takes a while to get going, also so he has more time to eavesdrop. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest as he waits, his mouth set in a firm unhappy line that neither of his colleagues can see.

He can hear the quick uptake of Kate’s heart when Louis speaks and almost feels sorry for her. It doesn’t mean she’s in love with him, Harry knows that. But she’s moved by him, which almost seems just as bad.

Harry wants to feel sorry for her because doing so sets him apart. Doing so establishes a line of demarcation between her infatuation and his own. Harry is moved by Louis, too, but in a literal sense, they’ve moved each other. Harry’s infatuation is reciprocated. Kate’s isn’t.

Except he’s not entirely sure that’s true anymore.

And at least Kate isn’t the kind of person to vacillate ad nauseum between boldness and timidity. Kate is always bold and unapologetic with her attention. Whether Harry wants to admit it or not, she’s the one to envy right now, not him.

To his relief, one of Kate’s team members arrives to fetch her for their next meeting and after telling Louis she’ll catch up with him later, she’s gone.

Louis isn’t, though. “Is that homemade soup?” he asks, sliding into the space beside Harry.

For a second, Harry just looks at Louis in an inexplicable stupor. “Uh, I don’t know. It’s Jim’s,” he says, numbly. “I’m heating it up for him.”

“Jim can’t heat up his own soup?” Louis asks with a scowl.

“It’s my fault. I offered the first time and now he keeps asking,” Harry says. “It’s honestly fine.”

The microwave beeps. Harry carefully removes the container and turns to face Louis. “Good chat with Kate?” he asks.

“You tell me,” Louis says. “You were listening to most of it.”

Harry’s mouth drops open. “I was not,” he says, aghast.

“You absolutely were,” Louis says, plainly. “What’s for lunch, then? If not soup?”You, Harry thinks. Or pretends not to think. And nearly spills more soup.

He isn’t thirsty. He fed before leaving so he shouldn’t be. But he’s also been feeding more often than usual. When he confirmed his next delivery last night, he even considered increasing his subscription level. But he’s not sure he can afford to and he’s not so desperate yet.

“I don’t know,” Harry says. “Soup actually sounds good.”

“There’s a new Mediterranean place down the street some clients seem to like,” Louis says, randomly. “Want to go?”

Harry forgets to blink.

“After you give Jim his soup,” Louis adds in the silence. “Obviously.”

“Would that not be weird…? If someone saw us?”

“As far as anyone knows, we work together and we’re just getting lunch,” Louis says. When Harry still doesn’t reply right away, Louis’ smile visibly shrinks. “It’s lunch, Styles. But if you’re busy…or you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

“No, I want to, really,” Harry says. He’s more surprised that Louis wants to. “I’ll just drop off the soup. And meet you at the lift.”

[styrof04m]

Ok but I can’t stop thinking about Agatha being pregnant for 9 months. Like can you imagine what she was thinking or even feeling. Like one she’s probably terrified that she’s gonna fuck this up. That she won’t be able to love her child. Not like she has any idea what a loving mother looks like.

But then also her thinking that maybe this will be ok. Because there’s proof she isn’t unlovable. She has the worlds biggest simp at her beck and call. Someone who has seen the the true depths of humanity. Someone who has seen every example of cruelty and mercy and has watched over every death deserved and undeserved. Has watched Agatha herself kill for nothing more than power. And yet this someone loves her truly and deeply and unconditionally. And I can’t stop thinking of Agatha being excited to share this love, of passing down something good. Being able to create rather than take.

And I can’t stop thinking of Agatha realizing something is deeply wrong. She’s supposed to be meeting her baby but instead it’s punctuated by the arrival of her love. And not to support her or hold her hand through it, instead to take. The one person who’s only ever given to Agatha is now about to take her entire world before she ever gets the chance to see what it’s even made of.

Ughhhh why couldn’t they have been more expanded on like there’s so many layers and nuances that could’ve been explored without making them the center that weren’t. Also i had more thoughts but this got long.

[oneforthemunny]

Can you do more mafia!eddie and if it’s not asking to much pregnant!reader??

ofc! here's a little blurb <3 slight smut at the end. pregnant!reader x mafia!eddie so some mafia type themes but nothing graphic. mainly fulff!

Eddie huffed, a ringed hand grabbing at his curls, buzzing with adrenaline filled nerves. His voice was beginning to shake from the tightness in his throat with every shout of your name, echoing off the walls without a response.

Panicked thoughts flashed through his mind at rapid speed, sickening what-ifs and other horrific scenarios conspired by his own mind. The damning thoughts overpowered the rational, jumping to every possible worst case scenario about what could have happened to you, to the baby, the dogs that were no where to be found as well.

Eddie was ready to give up, ready to call Gareth, command a search, a war if he had to. Frantic steps towards the phone, his hands shook when he picked up the phone, Eddie was halfway through jamming Gareth's number in when he heard a bark.

Muffled, but loud and defilingly crisp enough to know it was Diablo's. Letting the phone fall, Eddie jogged towards the back door, pulling it open with such a force the hinges groaned. His free hand on his hip, pulling his gun out, flicking the safety off in a fluid motion that was muscle memory at this point.

His eyes scanned the garden, over the pool, towards the spacious back yard, lowering his gun at the sight. The boys running around, yanking and tugging their toy, running beside you to give you their toy for you to run while you walked- marched, was more like it. Arms pumping, heavy, purposeful steps up and down the length of the backyard, not slowing to toss the toy for them to fetch.

Eddie pressed his lips together, shoving the gun back in his holster. "Baby," Eddie called, trying to keep his voice light, a coo. You were sensitive these days, the slightest quip in his tone had you in tears.

You turned, continuing your walk up the grass, knees high with every step, nearly touching your swollen stomach. You were ready to pop, baby Bea due any day now- past due, really. There were talks of a C-Section, of inducing labor if she didn't come on her own.

"Baby," He tried again, walking to meet you. The sun was starting to set, but the heat hadn't eased up.

"What're you doing, sweetheart?" Eddie's voice was still tight, a forced coo to try and mask his heart that was still climbing back to a normal beat.

Vecna jumped up, letting you grab the rope toy, tossing it and sending them all running after it. "Walking." You huffed, a little out of breath from the pace. It was harder now, with a giant baby bump in your way.

Eddie swallowed a groan, taking a deep breath before jogging besides you. "Did you not hear me yelling? I was looking for you. I didn't know you went outside-"

"-I can't stay inside all day, every day, Eddie." You snapped defensively, continuing your stride, trying to ignore the burning in your back and calves. "I needed some fresh air."

Eddie bit back a huffy comment that your doctor told you to take it easy, knowing it would not be received well. Instead, he grabbed the toy from Lucifer when he brought it, flinging it far this time, trying to keep up with you in his Armani shoes.

"I know, I just couldn't find you." Eddie said, a hand reaching out to your lower back out of near instinct. "I just got worried when I couldn't find you."

You seemed to like that answer, eyes flashing and gleaming sweetly at him. A mood swing, there had never been a truer word, Eddie decided.

"I was just out here, baby." You cooed, slowing your pace, chest heaving a little, winded.

"I see that." Eddie looked at you carefully. "What are you doing? It's a little hot. Do you have a water?" He turned scanning for a cup, a water bottle, anything.

"I read that walking can get your water to break." You were nearly shuffling, eyes closed, letting your heart beat settle. You paused, looking down between your feet for anything, any sign that it had broken. "I don't think it worked." You frowned.

"She'll come when she's ready, honey." Eddie cooed, rubbing a hand on your back gently, guiding you towards the patio, desperate to get you to sit down. "You don't need to overwork yourself. It'll happen when it does."

"I'm not overworking myself." You snap, huffing with an eye roll that had Eddie flinching. Still, you let him guide you to the small patio table, settling into the cushioned chair.

"I just want her to come already." You muttered, running a hand over your swollen bump. "It feels like it's taking forever. Like she's never going to get out."

"She'll come when she's ready." Eddie snatched the water bottle of the stairs, putting it in front of you.

"She'll be here soon, sweetheart. Just don't-don't stress about it." Eddie hesitated, watching you carefully.

Your lips twitch in a snarl before bringing the bottle to your lips. Him telling you not to stress when that was quite literally all he had done felt hypocritical, but you decided against telling him that, right now, anyways.

"Maybe I should try the workout tape again." You hummed, spinning the water bottle around on the table lightly. "Or maybe you should just fuck me like the doctor said." You said bluntly.

Eddie blushed, lips twitching in a grin at your boldness. "That is not what he said."

"He said penetration." You glared at Eddie.

"He also said it could hurt you." Eddie countered. "That you're-you're softening down there or whatever-"

You rolled your eyes, scoffing loudly. "I mean, you can't fuck me mean, but you could be gentle and it would be fine." You glared at him for a moment. "But you won't because you think I'm disgusting right now."

"I do not-"

"-Clearly you do." You huffed, lip wobbling, a burning forming in your chest and throat with tears. "You won't even fuck me when the doctor is telling you to."

Eddie fought an eye roll, standing to pull you into him. Your head buried into his midsection, sniffly and furious, but allowing his affectionate touch. Another swing.

"I do not think you're hideous. I have never, not once in my life thought you were hideous, so I don't want to hear you say that anymore." Eddie's tone clipped with authority, your thighs pressing together at the sound. You'd missed it, missed him talking like this.

"I don't want to hurt you-"

"-You won't-"

"-I don't want to." Eddie lifted his voice over yours, pulling back, a hand cupping your chin to bring your gaze to him. "So you have to let me know if it's hurting you. Anything."

Damn those pregnancy books. Of course he'd read them cover to cover, front to back, taking in every bit of information he could. It was endearing, really, until times like this when he handled you like you were glass.

"I will." You nodded, holding his gaze with yours. "I promise."

Eddie relented. Of course he did. Truthfully, he'd been in agony for the past few weeks, willing himself not to fuck you in fear of hurting you and the baby. The oral was good, great even, but just not as good as the real thing.

So Eddie willed himself still, hands gripping your hips, trying to support you while fighting the blinding urge to slam you on his length, when you sunk down on his cock at a painfully slow pace.

[impish-baby]

You should totally have a yandere queen caregiver who’s is just obsessed with one of the servants!!!

by the way I love all your writing

Does the swallow dream of flying - platonic yandere queen x servant reader - 👑

(Trigger warnings: reader is hurt offscreen, queen helps them take a bath, threats/mentions of violence not towards reader)

Beatrice has struggled to bear children of her own, it is an unfortunate truth. Perhaps that's why she feels the need to be softer to the younger members of her staff, using them as surrogates for what she can not have. There is one servant in particular that always catches her eye. A bit ditzy, but that is forgivable, the effort and pride they obviously put into their work making up for it. She does not mean to coddle, but they help soothe the growing ache in her chest.

The sight of you sniffling in a pathetic heap on the floor is already enough to anger her, but the fact that you're clutching your reddened cheek only makes matters worse. Combined with the fact that your shirt is stained with hot tea, the queen would like nothing more to hang the perpetrator this instant but she has more immediate matters to tend to.

"You are aware that crying like a child won't help anything, correct?" Beatrice kneels, a firm frown on her face as she pinches your chin between her fingers, turning your head to the side. The handprint is apparent, marring the skin of your face. She'll do better than hang your aggressor, they won't have a hand to strike with at all first.

"Come," she commands, standing up to her full height after releasing you. "Let's get you cleaned up." Once you're back onto your feet, Beatrice is already leading you through the halls, your head bowed in shame. You must think you're in trouble, far from it, but she'll allow you to think so if it keeps you cooperative.

The maids know better than to speak up once they see the look on the queen's face, silently opening the door to her chambers as she marches through while you follow behind like a lost ducking. Her room is massive much larger than your measly quarters, and a stinging fear courses through you at the thought of it also being the king's room.

Beatrice pays no mind to the troubled look on your face however, ordering a maid to fetch you a change of clothes before ushering you into the bathroom. Once inside, she's already rolling up the sleeves of her dress and kneeling beside the tub, starting to run a steaming bath. Bubbles couldn't hurt either, she muses, you deserve to be pampered a little.

The sight of you awkwardly fidgeting in the corner makes her scoff, but she can not deny the fondness in her heart at the image. "Do you expect to bathe in your clothes?" That simple comment is enough to stir you into action, Beatrice having the decency to turn away as you get undressed and slip into the water. When she turns back around, she can't help but smile at the sight of you gingerly playing with the bubbles.

"We'll wash your hair first, alright?" The queen's voice is much softer than usual as she kneels down again, "Back towards me, darling." You comply easily enough, even with how tense you're sitting in the water. Poor thing, you act so much like a scared mouse afraid of a cat, if only you knew how much she adored you. Beatrice hums as she starts to shampoo your hair, scratching your scalp in an attempt for you to relax.

You didn't think her majesty could be so gentle, sure she's never been cruel to you, but that does not make her any less intimidating. She seems...perfectly relaxed at the moment. It's odd. You do not deserve such care, especially not from the queen herself, but you're not brave enough to ask for an explanation.

Your hair is soon rinsed, Beatrice placing her hand over your forehead so no soap runs into your eyes. Her gentle care, along with the warm water makes your already weary form long for rest, almost nodding off in the tub. 'How cute..' The queen coos to herself, resigning to quickly finish up the bath so you can sleep.

You're barely awake by the time she's grabbed a towel for you, clumsily stepping into it before she's wrapping the fluffy fabric around your body. She takes it upon herself to dry your hair as well, but at least let's you dress yourself, only helping button your shirt when it proves too difficult.

Her bed is softer than clouds, you're sure. It only takes seconds for you to drift off with your head in Beatrice's lap, not hearing the bedroom door creek open or the hushed conversation that follows soon after.

[myloveobbsessed]

Ｕｎｅｘｐｅｃｔｅｄ

—————–———————–———————–————

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Character: Shinazugawa Sanemi x fem reader

Prompt: he's your secret admirer

Notes: readers a hashira, Kind of a long post

—————–———————–———————–————

You stand between Mitsuri and Shinobu before the Hashira meeting begins, casually chatting with them about the recent love letters you’ve been receiving. Mitsuri’s eyes sparkle with curiosity as she excitedly tries to guess who the secret admirer could be, while Shinobu listens with a sly smile, offering her own clever insights. The three of you exchange playful theories, each more outlandish than the last, as you try to piece together the mystery before the meeting starts.

Too engrossed in your conversation with Mitsuri and Shinobu, you fail to notice the pair of lavender eyes watching you from afar, stealing subtle glances your way. Unseen and silent, the figure observes you, their gaze lingering a little longer each time, while you remain completely unaware, wrapped up in the playful guessing game with your friends.

Mitsuri chirps up again, her voice bright with excitement as she throws in another guess.

“What about Shinazugawa? It could be him”

You pause, thinking about her suggestion. Your eyes drift over to Sanemi, and just as you catch his gaze, he quickly scowls at you before turning away, clearly trying to mask his reaction. What you don’t notice, however, are the faintly flushed cheeks he hides from your view, betraying the very feelings you’re both too distracted to see.

You turn your attention back towards her shaking your head with a light chuckle.

“No way he's probably the last person that would do this. The letters are sweet and poetic and he's….kind of the opposite”

Shinobu then quips in, “so. He still seems to have his eyes on you.”

You glance over at the Wind Hashira again, Shinobu’s words lingering in your mind. Could it really be true? Does Sanemi actually like you? It’s hard to wrap your head around—he’s never been the type to show any warmth, let alone send love letters. You picture him, the tough, brash Wind Hashira, sitting down to pen poetic confessions of love.

The thought alone makes you chuckle a little to yourself. It just doesn’t seem like him. But the idea, as ridiculous as it sounds, plants a small seed of curiosity in your mind. Could there be more to Sanemi than you’ve realized?

••—————••—————••

You’re sitting on your engawa, quietly enjoying lunch and soaking in the peaceful silence when the faint sound of flapping wings reaches your ears. Looking up, you spot a crow swooping down toward you, landing gracefully before dropping a letter into your lap.

You barely have time to react before it takes off again, disappearing into the sky. Curiosity piqued, you glance down at the letter, wondering what message it could hold this time.

Setting your lunch aside, you pick up the letter with growing anticipation. As you carefully open it, a small smile creeps across your face—it’s another love letter. The elegant handwriting draws your attention, and you begin reading the poem aloud in a soft whisper.

The words are tender and heartfelt, and as you read.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, and your cheeks flush slightly, just as they always do when you read one of these sweet letters. The warmth in the words makes your heart flutter, but your mind inevitably drifts back to Sanemi and what Mitsuri and Shinobu had said. Could it really be him? The idea still seems so far-fetched—the thought of the brash Wind Hashira sending such tender poetry feels almost impossible.

Maybe it’s one of your other colleagues, you think, still doubting the possibility of Sanemi being the one behind the affectionate notes. But the thought refuses to leave, lingering in the back of your mind.

••—————••—————••

Returning from a mission, you notice your crow swooping down toward you, its message clear: you’re paired with the Wind Hashira, Sanemi, on your next mission. The news makes your heart skip a beat, and a mixture of excitement and nervousness washes over you. With a nod to your crow, you steady yourself and set off to meet up with Sanemi, unsure of what to expect but curious about how this mission will unfold with him by your side.

As you arrive at the meet-up spot, you spot Sanemi standing in the distance. Taking a deep breath, you quickly jog up to him, greeting him with a smile and a small wave.

“Hey, Shinazugawa!”

you say cheerfully, hoping to ease the usual tension he carries. He glances at you with his usual stern expression, but there’s a brief flicker of something softer in his eyes before he looks away, grumbling a greeting under his breath.

“Lets go”

Sanemi says abruptly before turning to walk away. You nod, quickly catching up to him as you both head toward the mission location. The walk is mostly silent, the air thick with tension. Every so often, you try to break the quiet, asking him small questions. But each time, his replies are brief—either a mumbled response or a curt “yes” or ��no.” Despite the lack of conversation, you can’t help but notice the subtle glances he throws your way when he thinks you aren’t looking.

••—————••—————••

After the mission, you and Sanemi are making your way back to headquarters when you stumble upon a lively village hosting a festival. The streets are lined with colorful lanterns, and the sounds of laughter and music fill the air. The sight makes you light up instantly, your exhaustion from the mission melting away as excitement takes over.

“Look, Shinazugawa! A festival!”

You turn to Sanemi with wide, pleading eyes, your voice soft as you ask,

“Can we go to the festival? For just a little bit”

He meets your gaze, and despite his best efforts to stay firm, he can’t seem to deny you when you look at him like that. Letting out a groan, he rolls his eyes dramatically, feigning annoyance.

“Fine” he mutters, as though reluctantly giving in, but there’s a hint of something softer in his tone. “But only for a bit”.

Your face lights up with excitement, and you can’t help but grin, completely unaware of the small, almost invisible smile that briefly flickers across Sanemi’s face as he watches you.

You two shortly make it done to the festival lots of games, shops, and delicious food. You look excitedly at each stall. But before you could do anything you felt the need to use the bathroom yourself. You tell Sanemi you'll be back shortly and to wait for you before quickly going off the find a bathroom.

You and Sanemi soon make your way down to the bustling festival, where the air is filled with the aroma of delicious food and the sounds of laughter and lively music. Your eyes sparkle as you take in all the colorful stalls, games, and shops, feeling like a kid in a candy store.

Before you can dive into the fun, though, you suddenly feel the need to use the bathroom. Turning to Sanemi, you quickly say,

“I’ll be right back! Just wait for me here.”

Without giving him much of a chance to respond, you dash off to find the nearest restroom, leaving Sanemi standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, grumbling to himself as he watches you disappear into the crowd.

Not a few moments later, a tall man approached Sanemi, standing a few inches above him, forcing Sanemi to crane his neck slightly. The man looked down at him with a cocky smile, his confidence oozing from his stance.

“Who was the hottie you were just with?” he asked, his tone smug as he referred to you.

Sanemi’s expression darkened immediately. His eyes flashed with irritation, and his jaw clenched tightly.

“None of your damn business” Sanemi growled, his voice low and dangerous. He took a step forward, standing his ground, clearly not in the mood for games.

“She ain't your girlfriend right?”

the man scoffs, his smirk widening as he looks Sanemi up and down, clearly underestimating him. His dismissive glance answers his own question, as if he can’t imagine someone like you dating the Wind Hashira.

Sanemi’s fists tighten, his irritation boiling over. His eyes blaze with a fierce intensity as he takes another step closer to the man.

“I said its none of your fucking business” Sanemi snaps, voice cold as steel. The thought of this guy even talking about you like that only makes his blood boil more. He doesn’t need to explain himself to anyone, especially not some arrogant fool.

The man chuckles, clearly enjoying how easy it is to push Sanemi’s buttons. He leans down, getting dangerously close to eye level with the Wind Hashira—a move that, given Sanemi’s simmering anger, isn’t the smartest choice.

With a condescending tone, he adds, “So you wouldn’t mind if I take her, right?”

The words barely leave the man’s mouth before Sanemi’s patience snaps. His hand shoots out, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt in a tight fist, yanking him even closer. “You try, and I’ll make sure you regret it,” Sanemi snarls, his voice low and venomous, eyes flashing with fury. His grip tightens just enough to make it clear he’s not bluffing. “You won’t even get the chance.”

The man’s cocky demeanor falters as the reality of Sanemi’s fury sets in. His smirk disappears, replaced by a nervous expression as he realizes he’s crossed the wrong person. Sanemi shoves him back with a rough push, releasing his grip. The man stumbles slightly before quickly straightening up, avoiding Sanemi’s searing gaze.

“Yeah… alright, I get it,” the man mutters, clearly rattled, before backing away. Sanemi watches him for a moment, his glare unwavering until the man disappears into the crowd. Only then does he let out a frustrated breath, still fuming.

Just as the man disappears into the crowd, you return to Sanemi’s side, noticing a tense energy lingering around him. From a distance, you had seen him conversing with someone, and now that you’re closer, you can’t help but wonder what it was about.

“Was everything alright?” you ask, glancing up at him with a bit of concern. Sanemi, still visibly irritated, crosses his arms and shrugs, avoiding your gaze.

“Just some idiot,” he mutters, trying to downplay the situation. “Nothing you need to worry about.” His usual tough demeanor is back, but there’s a subtle protectiveness in the way he stands next to you, as if silently assuring you that no one would dare cross you while he’s around.

You don't push any further focused on the festival again.

After spending a few hours at the festival—longer than either of you had planned—Sanemi walks you back to your estate. Along the way, you clutch the small stuffed panda he won for you at one of the festival games, a sweet gesture that makes you smile every time you look at it. You’ll definitely cherish it.

••—————••—————••

As you reach the front door of your home, you turn to face Sanemi. The moonlight casts a soft glow over the both of you, and for a moment, there’s a rare peacefulness in the air.

“Thank you Shinazugawa for walking me home, and thank you for the panda.”

you say warmly, holding the stuffed panda close to your chest. Your gaze lingers on him, noticing the way his usually hardened expression has softened just a bit.

He turns his face away, mumbling something under his breath that you don’t quite catch. When you ask him to repeat himself, he raises his voice just a bit, the hint of embarrassment creeping into his tone.

“Call me Sanemi…”

As he says this, you notice a faint flush spreading across his cheeks, which is surprisingly endearing. A smile blooms on your face, and you feel your own cheeks heat up a little in response.

“Okay, Sanemi,” you say softly, the name rolling off your tongue in a way that feels more personal. The moment hangs between you, charged with unspoken words and a newfound closeness.

After that night, you and Sanemi began spending more time together. Whether it was training, sharing meals, or simply enjoying each other’s company, each moment felt more significant than the last. The air between you buzzed with a growing familiarity, and you cherished every interaction.

As time went on, you continued to receive the love letters, each one sweeter than the last. They filled your thoughts with warmth and curiosity, and you couldn’t help but smile as you read them. With each poetic word, you became more convinced you knew who the mystery sender was.

••—————••—————••

After a rigorous training session, the two of you sit together on the engawa, enjoying a well-deserved lunch. As you set your meal aside, you pull a letter from your pocket, catching Sanemi’s eye. Curious, you ask him if he knows anything about it. He shakes his head, his expression unreadable, and denies having any knowledge of the letter.

You're ninety-five percent sure the sender is him so you decided to pull a little trick.

“Sanemi…” you say slowly, your gaze locked onto his. He meets your eyes for a moment before looking down, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You accidentally wrote your name”

He eyes slightly widen as he immediately replies without thinking.

“What!? No the hell I didn't”

Sanemi quickly closes his mouth, but it’s too late—he’s already let the words slip. A small chuckle escapes you, and you notice his cheeks and the tips of his ears flush a bright red, a clear sign that he knows he’s been caught.

“Before I would've never guessed you of all people would send love letterss”

Sanemi turns his head away, unsure of how to respond, embarrassment flooding through him.

You stare at him for a few moments before leaning up and planting a soft kiss on his cheek which he immediately looks back at you with wide eyes.

“Thank you Sanemi I love you as well”

—————–———————–———————–————

Sry I rushed the ending a little I felt like this was getting too long

[imfoive]

Bicycle Bandit

Bad Boy! Jeongin x Reader (fem.) Genre: College au!, Opposites-Attract, Fluff Warnings: mentions of drinking, cursing, illegal activities, somewhat proofread WC: 4k A/N: This is a rewrite of an old fic of mine (also made this banner before chk-chk-boom mv dropped and I saw graffiti and gasped lol) Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

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He was bad news, and Y/N was well aware of that. He skipped classes, partied hard with his friends, caused mischief. Clearly not the model student. Yet fate had entwined them in the same study group, making it impossible to avoid him. Y/N often wondered why he bothered with the his academics when his heart seemed set on everything but studying.

Yang Jeongin.

A heartthrob who knew he was hot, Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t agree. Rumors swirled that he dated a different girl every other week, and some even whispered he was the dean’s son. However, that seemed a little far-fetched since he behaved more like a teenager than a responsible adult.

Speaking of Yang Jeongin…

   “Yo!” His voice broke the library’s quiet, drawing disapproving glances from everyone around.

What did he expect, shouting in a place of quiet study? Y/N tried to focus on her notes, subtly observing him as he casually dropped his backpack on the ground and took a seat across from her. After a few moments, he rifled through his bag, pulling out a biology textbook, post-its, and a highlighter. Clearly underprepared. She rolled her eyes, returning to her annotations. How could someone so unconcerned with school be part of their study group?

   “Do you have a pen?” His voice was a whisper, catching Y/N off guard.

She looked up, meeting his expectant gaze.

   “A pen... do you have one?” He repeated.

She nodded silently, handing him a pen. He flashed a grin that seemed to light up the room, and for a brief moment, Y/N found herself captivated. Quickly, she shook off the distraction. Her focus was on studying, on securing her future with a stable job. Yet, despite her resolve, she couldn’t help but steal glances at Jeongin. He lounged back in his chair, pen in hand, seemingly unbothered by the studious setting. She sighed inwardly and refocused on her work. Mentally scolding herself for her straying attention.

As their study session wound down, one by one, the others gathered their belongings.

   “See you guys tomorrow.” Someone whispered, and they all exchanged quiet farewells.

   “Okay, I have an appointment with the professor. I gotta go, Y/N.” Her friend next to her whispered, starting to pack up.

She nodded, watching as her friend glanced over at Jeongin, who remained seated across them, inexplicably lingering.

   “Bye.” He waved with a boyish grin.

Returning the wave politely, her friend hurried off, leaving Jeongin and Y/N alone in the lingering silence of the library. She could feel his eyes on her, chin leaned in the cup of his hands. She was surprised he wasn’t the first out the door, surprised he even stuck around.

   “I’m also gonna go…” She began, closing her notebook slowly.

He didn’t reply immediately, watching her gather her things, and the awkwardness settled between them.

   “I guess I’ll leave as well.” He finally said, rising to his feet.

Exiting the library, the sweltering afternoon sun hit them contrasting the coolness of the air-conditioned room they had been in. Y/N shielded her eyes against the brightness, noticing Jeongin beside her, sporting sunglasses to combat the glare.

   “I’m Yang Jeongin, by the way.” He introduced himself casually.

This was their second time meeting at these sessions, and it felt like he only greeted her because she lent him a pen. On top of all that, they even shared a class. It made her feel bitter as she frowned at him slightly.

   “I know…” She replied, clutching her notebook to her chest.

He eyed her curiously.

   “We’re in the same biology class.” She explained, turning away to begin walking, leaving him to his own thoughts.

Setting a brisk pace to put distance between them, she could feel his gaze lingering on her back even behind his shades, but she continued walking.

Jeongin’s presence had always been a disruptive force in their study group. A stark contrast to the studious atmosphere they tried to maintain. While others seemed content to overlook his disregard for academics, Y/N found herself increasingly drawn to observe him, to decipher whatever was behind that charming smile and nonchalant demeanor. Even if he didn’t remember her existence.

As she walked, she couldn’t shake the memory of his smile, brief yet disarming, making her wonder exactly how he coined his notorious reputation.

Her feet halted on her way to the her next class, eyes catching sight of bold words. She stared at the flier above the campus bicycle station, taking in the words of caution and the black-and-white pixelated CCTV image capturing a hooded person, likely a student, stealing two bicycles at once.

The Bicycle Bandit had struck again. It was surprising how he continued to evade capture, especially with the administration clearly on his trail. The remaining bicycles were securely chained to the metal rails. She sighed and turned away. Walking was always enjoyable, after all.

The weeks passed in a blur of lectures, late-night study sessions, and the occasional glimpse of Jeongin, who seemed to appear unexpectedly in places he didn’t frequent much. 

His booming voice would wave at her with a “Hi, Y/N!” Declaring that he had not forgotten her or her name.

Despite her best efforts to maintain a distance, their paths crossed as he decided he would start attending biology lessons more often, waving at her gleefully from a back seat in the lecture hall almost every time. Each encounter left a lingering impression that she struggled to connect with his bad-boy reputation.

Jeongin decided to skip the next two study sessions, and surprisingly, no one seemed bothered by his absence. Not that he brought anything to the table. It turned out their professor had recommended a study group as a last-ditch effort for him to pass. And he managed to follow through, as surprising as that was. Y/N guessed he did care about his grades after all, even if only a little. Her eyes glancing towards the door, secretly hoping he would walk through them.

About a week later, she ran into Jeongin again. It was early evening, and she was strolling towards a supermarket near campus. The streets were quiet, the air cool. That’s when it happened, when she literally collided with him.

   “Ack—!” She exclaimed, falling and scraping her knee on the rough concrete. Today was definitely the wrong day for a dress.

Jeongin stumbled on the sidewalk, breathing heavily as he glanced down at her, hands on his knees.

   “Oh... hey, Y/N.” He managed between deep breaths, catching himself. 

   “Are you okay?” There was concern laced in his voice, stretching out a hand to pull her up from the ground.

She hissed a bit but grasped his warm fingers, steadying herself as she stood, before shaking off the sting on her knee. 

His eyes scanned over her quickly to ensure she was indeed okay, but he also seemed distracted.

   “I’m fine, but why are you running?” She asked, looking up to his disheveled figure, genuinely curious.

He flashed a quick dimpled smile, brushing sweat-dampened hair from his forehead.

   “Just... enjoying the thrill of the evening.” He said, though his eyes darted nervously in the direction he'd come from.

She raised an eyebrow, noticing paint smudges on his fingers and face.

   “Really?” She trailed off, tone laced in doubt, but before he could respond, his expression froze.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder, and his head shot towards the source of the sound.

   “Shit.” He swore under his breath, his gaze flicking back to hers with a mixture of urgency and determination. 

Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and started sprinting. Her mind tried to figure out what was happening while her feet unconsciously ran behind his pull.

They veered into a narrow alleyway, the shadows swallowing them whole as they pressed against the cool brick wall, panting for breath.

   “What’s going on?” She managed to gasp out, her voice tinged with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

Jeongin’s expression was unreadable, his features illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the alley.

   “Trust me, Y/N.” He said quietly, his grip on her wrist tightening reassuringly. 

   “Just…stay quiet.”

And there they stood, catching their breaths, caught in the tense stillness of the moment, the distant echoes of pursuit faded into silence. They were pressed close into the darkest shadows behind some shop. She could hear his heart thrumming loudly, or maybe it was hers. Yet, his presence beside her felt strangely comforting, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She glanced up to observe his tense profile, eyes on the lookout, still trying to steady his breath.

Jeongin, the so-called bad boy, was living up to his reputation. Yet all she could think about were the moments he’d loudly called out to get her attention across the room, waving with his signature eye-smile. His actions always drew eyes, yet they felt oddly warm. She recalled his whispered questions during the study sessions he did attend, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp the concepts she explained.

But what lingered most was the soft grip he still had around her wrist.  

Finally, he let out a sigh of relief, looking up to meet her eyes. He stiffened under her watching gaze, while she felt equally startled, her cheeks flushed. He cleared his throat, trying to mask the tinge of red on his ears. Releasing her wrist, he took a step back. He tossed his backpack to the ground, its contents clattering metallically in the quiet air.

She eyed the black bag that had lazily hung around his back while they ran. The faint clink of metal echoed from within had been evident even then. Curiosity piqued, she crouched down and unzipped his bag while he watched with amusement. Inside lay a heap of spray paint cans.

   “I knew it!” She gasped, staring at him in disbelief.

He laughed, standing up straight. “So what?” He challenged, crossing his arms.

   “You're running from the cops!” She blurted out, eyes wide.

Another chuckle escaped him. “Yeah, that’s illegal.” He admitted mockingly with a mischievous grin.

   “Yes. It is illegal.” Y/N muttered in a hushed tone, shaking her head with a worry.

He glanced out of the alley, checking for any signs of pursuit returning. 

   “Are you one of those types of people?” He asked casually, retrieving a can of blue spray paint.

Y/N knew exactly what he meant, but couldn’t resist making a face at him. “What do you mean, ‘those types of people’?”

   “You know, the goody-two-shoes, the law-abiding citizens.” Jeongin explained, spraying a small spot on the wall behind him, testing the color.

Despite knowing he had her figured out, she stood her ground.  

   “Hey, for your information, law abiding citizens know how to have fun too!” Y/N defended.

   “At least we don’t have to run from the police for vandalizing.” She added, folding her arms defiantly.

He turned to face her, paint canister in hand. “True, but we know how to run away. You just don’t know how to have that thrilling kind of fun.” He quipped, spraying five large stars onto the bricks behind him.

His comment wiped the smile from her face. He was implying she was boring.

   “Give me that.” She said boldly, trying to snatch the can from his grasp. 

But he pulled away, stretching his arm out of her reach. 

He raised an eyebrow. “This?” He teased, shaking the can in his hand. 

   “This spray paint? The illegal stuff?” He laughed.

Y/N pulled down his arm and deftly snatched the can from his loose grip, shaking it before starting to write on the wall in light blue.

   “Law-abiding citizen lives the life of thrill - Y/N.” She proclaimed proudly, scrutinizing her handiwork with a smirk.

He raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips as he reached into the bag and uncapped another canister.

   “You’ve clearly never done this before.” Jeongin chuckled, swiftly spraying a layer of red over her name. “This isn’t an essay where you have to give credit to the speaker.”

   “Unless you want to get caught.” He added, muttering as he obscured her name with careful strokes, then transformed the red spot into a heart.

   “Cute, right?” He chuckled, admiring his creation.

She stood silently as he continued to add graffiti to the wall behind the ice cream parlor. The chemical smell of the paint filled the air, and Y/N instinctively covered her nose.

Ten minutes and numerous paintings of a fox character signed off with the letters “I.N” later, Jeongin grew bored of their rule-breaking escapade. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and there she stood, leaning against the wall opposite the graffiti-covered one, uncertain why she had stuck around.

As he adjusted the straps of his backpack, Jeongin glanced at the observant girl with a playful smirk. 

   “Had enough excitement for one night?” He teased, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Y/N pushed off the wall, a wry smile playing on her lips. 

   “So much.” She replied with sarcasm, yet deep down there was still a mixture of curiosity and lingering adrenaline surging through her. Even if all she had done was write a line.

He chuckled softly, stepping closer. 

   “You did pretty well for a goody-two-shoes.” He remarked, nudging her lightly with his elbow.

There was a comfortable silence as they exited the alley, Jeongin occasionally glancing back behind them under the flickering streetlights. Then his eyes settle on her for a second before he sighs.

   “Let’s go.” He said abruptly, as he took hold of her wrist again.

   “Where?” Y/N asked, surprised by his sudden direction.

   “To rob a bank.” He replied cryptically, ultimately laughing at her shocked reaction.

They made their way to a nearby convenience store. Inside, he gestured for her to grab some cold beers. She nodded, still confused as she picked out a can of beer and a lemonade from the cooler while he disappeared into another aisle.

   “What are you up to?” She asked curiously, spotting him at the cash register.

Jeongin grinned mischievously, holding up a box of band-aids that he’d picked up. His fingers tapped on it knowingly. Y/N raised an eyebrow, starting to piece together his plan as they stepped outside.

   “Here, hold these.” He said, handing her the bag of drinks and snacks before crouching down and gently lifting the hem of her dress. She tensed slightly at the warm touch of his fingers on her skin.

   “Ah.” He murmured softly, examining the red and purple scrape on her knee. She stared in fascination at the top of his head, a kneeling figure skillfully tearing open a band-aid and carefully plastering it over her wound.

   “Thank you.” She said sincerely, touched by his unexpected gesture.

Jeongin stood up, his expression softening. 

   “I'm sorry.” He said quietly, taking the plastic bag from her.

   “Did you get hurt anywhere else?” He asked, eyes darting to look at places Y/N could’ve grazed.

She shook her head, feeling a warmth spread through her at his genuine concern.

They continued walking, and with each step, her hesitation grew, yet she followed him further away from the dorms. Darkness settled in, casting elongated shadows around them.

   “You’re so slow.” Jeongin teased, his hands gently tugging on hers. This time pulling at her fingers.

Flustered, Y/N didn’t reply, allowing his hand to envelop hers.

   “Oh! Your fingers are freezing!” He exclaimed, though she swore his touch made them feel warm and tingly.

He tightened his grip on her hand, and she bit her lip, feeling a mix of nervousness and exhilaration. Was this his way of using his bad-boy image to flirt and make her heart race? He chuckled softly, his eyes dancing with mischief, teasing her without saying a word.

They arrived at a playground, which was empty and quiet, with only the occasional squeak of the swings filling the serene atmosphere as they settled into them, their feet awkwardly brushing against the ground due to their adult sizes.

Apart from the crickets, the only sounds were the pop of his beer can opening and their conversation. Jeongin shared stories of mischief, including his runs as the campus bicycle bandit, trading bikes for tickets to a concert he ironically missed.

   “Wait, you’re the bicycle bandit?” Y/N exclaimed, astonished and intrigued by this revelation. Yet at the same time she wondered how no one made such a connection.

His laughter filled the air, his eyes crinkling at the nickname he had unwittingly earned. As she blinked, still processing how he managed to escape consequences, he noticed the questioning look on her face and reached out to smooth away the furrow between her brows with a press of his fingertip.

   “I have my ways. Plus, the Dean happens to be my dad.” He admitted casually, taking a sip of his beer.

Y/N’s eyes widened yet again, the pieces falling into place. The rumors weren’t just idle gossip after all.

   “What?” She managed, trying to absorb this unexpected revelation.

He laughed again, crushing the now empty beer can under his foot.

   “I thought you knew.” His hand reached over to take her lemonade, taking a sip from it nonchalantly.

   “I wouldn’t even bother with my grades if my dad wasn’t breathing down my neck.” He added with a shrug.

Y/N nodded slowly, taking back her drink and sipping, the faint taste of beer lingering on the bottle.

Silence settled between them once more as he swung gently, his legs hanging in the air, leaning back with his eyes closed, enjoying the peaceful night. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Yang Jeongin, his bleached hair catching the light of the park lamps.

As his swinging gradually slowed to a stop, he glanced at her before bursting into laughter.

   “What?” She asked, confused but joining in his infectious amusement.

   “I guess even boring things like this can be fun.” Jeongin finally concluded with a grin.

This time, She laughed along, nodding with a “I told you so.”

He walked her back to the dorms, hand still in hers, and despite the late hour, the warmth of their adventure together lingered long after the night had settled in. ─────────────────────── IF YOU STOLE THE CAMPUS BICYCLES, PLEASE RETURN THEM TO THE BICYCLE STATION!

The new fliers were hung all throughout campus, and Y/N stared at the one on the library door.

   “Yang Jeongin!” She muttered, half-shocked and half-amused by his audacity.

Beside her, Jeongin grinned mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

   “Hey, they were just sitting there, begging to be freed.” He justified with a shrug.

She shook her head, trying to suppress a laugh. 

   “You’re unbelievable.”

Jeongin shrugged nonchalantly. 

   “It’s all in the name of adventure, right?” He leaned in, poking her cheek playfully.

Despite the absurdity of his actions, she couldn’t help but smile at his infectious grin. Before they could discuss further, another friend from their study group approached, clearly curious about the hushed conversation.

   “What’s going on?” Her friend asked while Jeongin waved it off with a casual smile. 

   “Oh, nothing. Just surprised there are such thieves on campus.” He shook his head, pointing at the flier with a mock expression of disappointment.

Y/N stifled her laughter and quickly headed out the door before she burst out laughing.

As they walked away from the library, her mind replayed the string of bizarre and exhilarating experiences Jeongin had brought into her life since joining the study group.

Four months had passed, and despite his abysmal grades, Jeongin still managed to show up to their study sessions. Still greeted her with a booming voice and grin as he waited for her outside her dorms, ready to head to biology class. He still managed to introduce unexpected and risky activities that made her heart beat in exhilaration. Jeongin was always injecting an unexpected twist into her mundane routine, and she enjoyed every moment of it. Though he often distracted her with his endless questions and quiet giggles.

As the others bid them goodbye, it was just Jeongin and Y/N once again.

   “What’s next for you, Mr. Bicycle Bandit?” Y/N teased, allowing him to carry her bag.

   “It’s Y/N’s bicycle bandit to you.” He corrected with a smirk, and she couldn’t help but giggle in return.

   “Coffee? Movie?” He asked, reaching for her hand with his free one.

   “Sorry, Jeongin,” She replied, shaking her head. “I’ve got a test coming up.”

He pouted playfully, nudging her as they walked. 

   “Come on! We just studied—Oh! I’ve got a new dirt bike. Let’s go for a ride.” His eyes lit up in excitement.

Y/N shook her head again, but he twirled her back towards him, making her stumble into his chest. He grinned down at her, pressing a surprise kiss onto her lips before he started to whine.

   “Let’s go on a date please?” He pleaded with puppy-dog eyes, his arms encircling her form.

She laughed, gently pushing his arms away. “No.”

His smile faded into a pout once more.

   “Go hang out with those girls who are always around you.” She teased, rolling her eyes.

He walked backward as he spoke.

   “The only girl that I hang out with is you, my girlfriend. Although you could sometimes be boring—”

   “Boring?” She interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned knowingly, waiting for her response. Y/N hesitated, biting her lip in thought.

   “I guess I could spare an hour or two…” She relented finally.

   “Great!” He exclaimed, pleased that she fell right into his trap.

Y/N groaned with exaggeration as he draped an arm over her shoulder, coming to a conclusion. 

   “Let’s do a boring activity.”

Rolling her eyes once more, she nodded in agreement. “Movie?”

   “Movie.” He confirmed, and they resumed walking, fingers intertwined around her shoulder.

   “So, how did you manage to get a dirt bike?” She asked, curious. “Didn’t your father cut down your allowance?”

Jeongin chuckled softly, glancing sideways at Y/N, slowly letting his grip over her drop. 

   “Don’t be mad, but I actually sold those campus bicycles for the extra cash.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, and he burst out laughing at her reaction, quickly jogging forward, fully aware she was going to chase him down to berate his actions.

   “I wanted to take you on a fun ride!” He yelled from a distance, still chuckling at her expression.

   “Yang Jeongin get back here!” Y/N ran after, her voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

   “I thought you’d appreciate the thrill, A guy’s gotta impress his girlfriend somehow!” He shouted back, laughter dancing in his eyes.

His arms extended for her to fall into his embrace, accepting the playful smacks she gave him on his chest.

Jeongin had a way of turning even the most outrageous situations into the most memorable moments. His carefree spirit balanced Y/N’s more serious demeanor, and she found herself embracing the spontaneity and thrill that he brought into her life, while he learned to relish in the moment of the most mundane tasks. Despite his reputation and attraction for mischief, he was a pure-hearted man who found amusement in the sight of the furrow of her brows when she studied, poking his finger in-between them to soothe the crinkle. And no, he did not have a new girlfriend every week. That rumor was totally, absolutely untrue.

The bicycle bandit’s heart was stolen by the law-abiding citizen, who was definitely not boring. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

[amymbona]

can u pls expand on them fawning over u being tashis friend pls??? like how they would find out abt u being at the academy or if tashi would work as their wingwoman or smth??

Abso-fucking-lutely!

The boys have been staying at Stanford for about a weak, sleeping in your and Tashi's dorm room on a mattress that they fetched God knows where. You don't really question anything regarding the two, knowing the more attention you'd pay to them, the crazier you would go. And at the time, you genuinely can't afford to lose yourself over two boys you used to have a crush on.

However, the boys are making it infinitely harder for you. They seem to be everywhere you are, asking you how your practice went, how did you do on that literature exam and if you want a company for lunch. As if they have figured out your whole schedule and everything else concerning youe life at Stanford.

If only you knew that your precious roommate is the one feeding the boys' little brains with valuable information about you, you'd probably threaten to burn one of her favourite Adidas sports sets. But Tashi is far from stupid and far from blind, she can very clearly see how interested the boys are in you. And she knows damn well that you need to get laid as well.

She never really told them about your background, judging that it's only your call to do so, and honestly, the missing knowledge of your past really doesn't discourage Patrick and Art from going after you. What matters to them is your immense cuteness and bashful smiles you cast in their direction when they speak to you. Your beautiful body that they imagine squished on the bed between their own, where they hands would have access to each square inch of your soft skin. How badly they are aching to touch you, to hold and kiss you, to make you their.

"So... Any plans for the weekend?" Art questions, breaking the calm silence of the dorm room, his head resting against Patrick's shoulder.

"Uh, no, not really." you shake your head. "Tash?"

"Nope, nothing. Just practice." she responds without lifting her gaze up from her notebook, probably scribbling down something about tennis.

"Well, me and Artie wanted to go clubbing, 'cause I dunno 'bout you, but I'm thirsty for some beer." Patrick proposes, patting Art's thigh.

In reality, they are just hoping to get you drunk and find out more about you, perhaps find an excuse to touch you after getting you drunk and having to transport you back to your bed.

Immediately, Tashi senses the hidden plan. "Well, Y/N could show you some places."

"Me?" you almost choke onto your saliva. "You know I don't go out that often."

"But you liked the place down the corner, y'know, where we went last time."

This is how you find yourself at a local bar, popular mainly among the young aduls attending the Stanford university, stuffed in a ridiculously short dress that Tashi insisted makes your booty look the best. The boys are on their third drink, their behaviour not so different to the sober state. If anything, the alcohol is merely allowing them to proceed with their flirting game.

"So Y/NNN..." Patrick is in a slightly looser shape than Art, his arm thrown around your shoulders in a leisured manner. "Feeling drunk enough?"

Drunk? No. Hot and borhered and flustered? Hell yeah.

"You could use a drink or two. Not that we're forcing you into anything." Art proposes with a gentle smile, sliding his glass of whiskey along the countertop right in front of you.

"He's right, baby, drink. Don't worry, we'll take care of you." Patrick's lips brush over the shell of your ear as he picks the glass up and brings it to your lips.

Four glasses and some songs later, you're in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by sweaty bodies and squished between the two handsome tennis players. While you're facing Art, hands lazily resting on his shoulders, his cheeky smile completely filling your field of vision, Patrick's behind you, chest rubbing against your back, palms planted on your hips.

And they can't believe it, that they have you so close, half drunk and slowly losing your mind. They're ready to be your bodyguards whispering in your ear that they've got you, that you're okay. Just enjoy yourself, you're safe with them. Plus they feel so fucking good.

"You're so pretty, Y/N." Art leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hands wrap tighter around your waist.

Almost whining that he's attempting to steal you from him, Patrick is basically glued to your back, sealing the sandwich the three of you form. "Our pretty girl."

It's all too hot, too loud and sweaty, not your optimal choice for a Friday evening. But at the moment, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. They're holding you so nice, pressing into you from all sides, making your body burn with the touches of their palms. Tiny kisses are being placed on your jaw and neck, both of the boys testing the waters and smirking when you do nothing to push them away. As if your mind is too clouded to realise what's actually going on.

What they don't know is, that this is your teenage dream coming true. The two boys you spent long months having such an intense crush on, wishing they could see you the way you see them. That they would touch and hold and kiss you the way you imagine it, the exact way that they are doing it now. And it feels so good to have such power over them, to have them completely wrapped around your finger. At that point, you swear to yourself you'll never tell them about your background, about the academy. Because if they love the Stanford version of you, why would you remind them that there a tennis academy one as well?

[dragonismo]

— of lies and empty promises.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Strong! Reader.

trope: something between star-crossed lovers and friends x enemies x lovers.

synopsis: while you enjoy a pleasant afternoon together, the differences between your families begin to make their way into your friendship, giving rise to moments of discontent between both of you.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: Both Aemond and reader are young. I believe there is no more warnings. Only Aemond is a tad bit possessive, jealous, and manipulative, but is purely innocent.

an: I've had this story saved in drafts since season 1 ended, but I've been neglecting it. Now, after seeing how hot handsome Aemond looks in the season 2 trailer, my fixation is back and so is my desire to publish this. This is something like a small introduction to what I have planned, so please, if you are interested, stay tuned for the next chapters!

You and Aemond were resting under the shade of the weirwood, with the sunlight filtering through its branches and red leaves. It was the most tranquil place in the Red Keep, ideal for doing nothing but enjoying a well-deserved rest after a day full of study and sword training, and as it was a rather warm summer afternoon, the mood was truly pleasant.

"I wish every day were this peaceful," you commented as you lay on the grass. "I would spend my entire life here if I knew no one would dare bother me. Can you imagine? Just lying in the sun, with no one behind rushing us to our lessons. And so, perhaps we could spend more time together."

"As far as I am aware, no one keeps you from my company," Aemond replied as he lay down next to you, palms flat on his stomach, legs crossed.

His comment made you frown: was he playing the fool, or was he really oblivious to certain glances? While shading your eyes from the sun with one hand, you tilted your face towards him before responding. "Oh, but they do, they sure do. I bet you know it is so."

"Oh, and by whom?" he inquired with a mischievous grin, one that vanished as soon as he heard the answer to his own question.

"The Queen."

Oh now that made him roll his eyes.

It was an immediate reaction, as Aemond was more than used to hearing you refer to his mother as if she were an impediment to your friendship, being that she never raised any objection despite her own opinions regarding Rhaenyra's children.

And how could she not have them? It was more than clear to him not only the truth hidden behind his mother's suspicions, but also how they were much more than mere prejudices towards the Princess.

"As I have told you countless times before," he said, not bothering to hide the subtle hint of frustration he felt at bringing up the issue again. "My mother holds no grudge against you."

"Then maybe her face hasn't caught on," you countered. "Or have you not seen how she scowls upon seeing me?"

"Believe me, you are not the source of her complaints. Mother spends more time grumbling about your brothers than about you, and rightfully so. They are fiends. You are not to deny it."

But to you it didn't seem such a far-fetched idea. You were about to argue once more, but then suddenly refrained from voicing your own opinion on the matter. You knew Aemond's position; how he preferred to turn a deaf ear and therefore often dismissed the matter. After all, what could the Queen do? She was not going to succeed in separating you both when the King was more than delighted with your bond.

Moreover; was it really worth arguing? It would do nothing but sour things between you two, something you feared greatly, for you held Aemond in high regard.

"Do as you wish," you replied. You did not want to interrupt the peaceful mood with reminders of the many quarrels that prevailed in your family, and so as usual, you decided to remain silent and put the whole matter aside. Still, your discontent showed on your face. "I was only expressing my desire to spend each day as I do now. I wish my only duty was to lie here and take a nap."

Aemond chuckled. "I fail to see where I fit in."

"I m afraid you are too irritating to be a part of it."

"Well, that is rather unkind of you. And selfish, I would say, as I want to be included anyhow," Aemond retorted stubbornly.

As he sat now with his hands on his knees, he looked at you with a determination unbecoming of someone his age, for not even men sounded as certain when they chose their greatest pursuits. But in Aemond's eyes, at nothing but ten years old, there wasn't a hint of doubt when he said, "Every time I imagine where I wish to be, you are by my side. Even in my dreams I relish in your company. I believe it is only fair that I am part of your ambitions and yearnings too, would you not think so? I would like it that way."

"But I never asked for such a thing," you replied. "Why am I to even consider it? I want my dreams to be my own, and not shared with anyone else. Dreams are one's own thing after all. So I wonder, why share them with me?"

"Because I love you, of course," Aemond answered you without further regard. "And if you love me as much, you must include me in yours, for not to do so means our friendship is not as important to you as it is to me," he added that last bit with a hint of playfulness.

You then turned to look at him. "Not as important?"

How confusing. It should bother you to hear him claim such a thing, for after all, were you not the one who had always defended him from the ill-treatment of your brothers? Were you not the one who had shown him unconditional affection despite the growing differences between your family? Were you not the one who, even in these moments, and as hard as it was not to, had never been upset with him? For even when you were accused of loving him less or branded as egotistical, you worried that those concerns were far more than harmless banter.

"Of course I love you as much. I would say more, even."

Aemond's smile widened, as he had expected such an answer. "And yet, it is I who always has you in mind. Who loves whom the most, then?"

"Me," you wanted to say. But was love not too big a concept for such young people?

You were taken aback. Not because the answer would be disheartening, and certainly not because you doubted the extent of your affection for him, quite the opposite: for one as young as yourself, the dephts of your feelings frightened him.

Then, instead of answering his question, you sat up, wiped the dust from your hands on your robes, and with sudden curiosity asked, "And what is that dream of yours, pray tell? I reckon it is no more mind-boggling than mine, where I gorge myself in lemon tarts as I ride the Black Dread."

Aemond snickered at your comment, but his words sounded a bit too serious to be a jest when he uttered them. "Well of course it is simpler. It is just about…"

"Your highness," a voice interrupted him.

A handmaiden approached from the opening, looking somewhere between hurried and delighted, something that intrigued you as much as it annoyed Aemond, who hoped this interruption would be brief so he could resume his comment. After a bow, however, he found her words rather daunting.

"Your mother sends for you, your highness. She wishes to introduce you to a new brother," the woman announced, which caught your attention so much it made you forget all about your previous conversation with him.

"My mother, you said?" you beamed before you pushed yourself up from the ground in no time, dusted off your clothes and bade Aemond farewell with such haste he could barely make out an "excuse me" as you and the handmaiden walked away.

He watched you as you ran ahead of her, clearly excited to meet what awaited you in your mother's chambers. As for him, he remained seated under the tree for a few seconds longer, a hint of jealousy souring his smile as his brow furrowed.

What a pleasant afternoon you were having so far. And yet again, your siblings always seemed to interrupt you both, even if they were not doing so directly. Will he ever be free of the burden of kinship?

How you could choose your brothers was beyond him. Was he not the one who often amused you? He had always considered himself closer to you than Jacaerys and Lucerys, but what was it about those bastards that always pulled you away from him nonetheless? And now there was a third!

Were his concerns correct then? Did he love you more than you loved him? But no, the very idea seemed so absurd it brought a scornful laugh from him.

You would never dare choose them over him!

"Damn them," he exclaimed before standing up as well. There was no use in staying here now that he was alone.

[tamayula-journal]

Ominis and Japanese!MC when intimate...

There are many different cultures between Japan and the West, but when I started reading and watching smut created by people from overseas when I first started participating in HL fandom, I was surprised to find a particularly big cultural difference: the way women behave during sex!

In Japan, there is a tendency to think that it is sexy for women to behave moderately shy during sex without being too aggressive. In Japanese pornographic manga and novels, it is very common for women to say "嫌/駄目（no)" while panting, with a pleasant look on their faces. (⚠This is just to say that such a tendency is more common than in the West, and not all Japanese men are looking for women who are shy in bed! It depends on the individual 🤣)

Having spent 30 years in Japan with such values, when I read porno novels in HL fandom, I was very surprised to see f!MCs(f!OC) behaving so aggressively in bed! 🙈

From what I have read, there are not many f!MCs who are overly shy or use negative words such as "no" as a moan. This is a very interesting cultural difference for me as a Japanese!👀

I didn't get used to the behaviour of these MCs at first, but now that I've read a lot of international smut, I'm very attracted to MCs who are sexually active and Seb and Omi who enjoy sex with her to the fullest 🥵💞

And when I draw smut, I try to imitate the behaviour of the MCs in those from abroad, without making them too overly shy or negative.

In the Japanese version on the right, the MC says: "No. Don't thrust deep inside me!" In terms of Japanese values, she is far-fetched: 'I feel so good when you thrust deep inside me!' in Japanese, but a direct translation as it is would probably be considered strange by Westerners, so the English version adopts a more positive language for clarity. (I'm a complete novice when it comes to translation, so I don't know if this is the correct translation 😂)

In making smut about the sexual behaviour of Westerners such as Sebastian and Ominis, I try to portray the MC's behaviour in bed as positively as possible, but I cannot erase my Japanese values, and perhaps I may be depicting MC behaviour that looks strange to Westerners at times. I hope you don't mind the details 🤣 But it's fun to think and learn about the cultural differences between countries while watching, reading and making various smut in this fandom! I'd like to draw more smut when I'm free in real life after the move 😌

On a side note, When I first read smut in this fandom, another thing that surprised me, besides the differences in MC behaviour, was that both men and women often say 'F*CK' during sex! 😮 In Japan, we are taught that F*CK is a very bad word that should never be used, so for Seb and Omi to use these words was surprise to me as a Japanese person! I have been wondering for about a year now if it is actually common in the West to use these words during sex …👀

[yallthemwitches]

The Question

For @jilytoberfest Day 25: "Are we going to talk about it?" "I'd rather not.”

AO3 link

“It was irresponsible.” “Irresponsible,” he repeats back. “Completely irrational.” “Completely.” “I was an idiot to even do it.” “Ok, now we are getting a little far fetched.” They are drifting closer, and she holds the textbook against her chest like a dam separating her rising emotion with his.  “Let's just forget it—it wasn’t even that great of a kiss.”

Lily was certain someone had drugged the pumpkin juice that morning. There was no other explanation for it. She had kissed James Potter. 

In her dreams (which she would vehemently deny if asked), their first kiss was always earth shattering. There were endless scenarios her subconscious dreamed up: A victory kiss after winning the House Cup, an act of passion while dueling with the Slytherins, a soft and tender moment under the light of the Orion Belt, or even just a passing decision, ending in him wrapping her in a passionate kiss that doesn’t end until they have fallen into a tangled mess on the ground. 

Their first kiss was none of that. For one, she started it. 

“Do you mind? I think I left my book.”James stands stock still, face bright and flushed. Of course he would still be right there. 

Lily cranes around his body. Careful not to bump into his sides, she reaches over and pulls the textbook off the table. 

“Alright well—see you,” she turns with the intention of leaving but her body betrays her—something it’s been doing quite a lot in the past hour. 

“Evans.” 

No elaboration is needed. His face is written with it: he is full of unbridled joy, bursting with the light of every star that has lived and died in this universe.

“Yes?” 

“Are we going to talk about it?” 

“I’d rather not.” 

Resisting, she knows, is useless. One look at his face tells her that. Like much of her interactions with James these days, it is all just some form of foreplay to her own demise—one that she has unfortunately created. 

“Why’d you kiss me—y’know, earlier?” 

There it was. The k word. The word that, sense she had done it, she hoped she could strike from the english language entirely. 

“I don’t know.” 

He shifts his weight, hands inside his pockets. She has to hand it to him, she expected much more arrogance. Instead, the giddy, swooning boy in front of her is almost endearing. Almost.

“Do you not know or do you not want to tell me?”

She blushes and feels the urge to hide her face in her hands. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t standing right there, where she can easily recall the scene: the feel of his hair, his hands warm and strong on her back, soft sighs flowing into her mouth like flesh memory.

“It was irresponsible.”

“Irresponsible,” he repeats back.

“Completely irrational.”

“Completely.”

“I was an idiot to even do it.”

“Ok, now we are getting a little far fetched.” They are drifting closer, and she holds the textbook against her chest like a dam separating her rising emotion with his. 

“Let's just forget it—it wasn’t even that great of a kiss.”

Silence, then he erupts in a laughter that makes her jump. The textbook bumps his chest and she can feel the vibration of his body through the pages. 

“Is that how you really feel?” He says after his laughter has quieted to just a smile, dimple deepening in his cheeks. 

He wouldn’t have laughed if he didn’t already know the answer. Like always, he is reading between the lines—a seasoned professional in the trapeze act of outward Lily Evans and subconscious Lily Evans.

“Again Potter, I don’t know.” 

What she really doesn’t know is how much longer she can get whittled down before she breaks, before it all comes tumbling out like a rushing whirlpool that will suck both of them in and prove to be fatal: I’m actually in love with you. I dream about you. I want to show you movies and music and hold your hand and push your hair back for you. I want you to tell me all your secrets (because I know you have them, a lot of them) and make you tea when you are sick. I want to wake up next to you and see your face in the morning sunlight, soft and unguarded by glasses and kiss your brow until your eyes blink open. I want—- But his voice cuts through the void. 

“To me, it was everything,” he murmurs. Somewhere between her musing and her last response he had lost his smile, the bright glint of confidence slowly fading. 

“It’s ok Evans. You… you figure it out. Just when you do, you let me know, yeah?” He’s trying to get back to a place of playful ease, but the pain is there. Now unsure, he starts shifting, placing his feet to move away. Her whole body screams.  

She must’ve been drugged–must have. There is no explanation besides an intervention of the gods. She drops the book on the ground, letting it hit the floor with a resonating thump. James watches it fall, but she does not. 

“I still don’t know but—if we tried it again…” she murmurs and his eyes shoot back up to her. His grin grows wide, so wide his face might crack in two. 

“That—,” he says as the warmth of his hand lands gently onto her back, the book no longer there to keep their bodies from meeting, “was my thought exactly.”

[barefoot-joker]

Highway Robbery Yandere!Striker X Reader

Hey, guys! Long time no read! Today I bring you Yandere!Striker from Helluva Boss! I really fell in love with his character and knew I had to write something for him. I hope I didn't make him to OOC and that you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Swearing, Kidnapping, being held gunpoint (Reader), being robbed, being tied up (Reader)

Words: 2,796

I sighed as I fluffed up my dark blue vest. I was feeling a bit tired today, but still ready for the day nonetheless. The sunlight from the morning strobed through the beautiful stained glass windows and the smell of eggs and bacon permeated the kitchen air. Today was going to be a long one with the Goetia family as Stolas would be in meetings and Stella was visiting her brother. Taking the breakfast from its pan, I plated them on intricate blue laced porcelain plates. Satisfied, I grabbed all three and headed to the main dining room. At the head of the table sat the Prince himself, a newspaper open in his hands. Stella sat across from him on the rotary phone, her conversation very loud. Octavia sat in between them, her earbuds in to tune out the world. Going around the table I sat each plate down and then stood off to the side. Pringles came up beside me and read off each royal’s schedule for the day. When he finished he turned to me. “Y/n, I need you to pick up some packages that are ready. I have a set list of where you need to go.”

“Of course, Pringles. I’ll get on it straight away.”

He nodded and the two of us stood by our masters in case we were needed. When breakfast was finally cleared, I went to my room and grabbed my coat. It was quite lovely: a nice heavy dark blue cotton that reached my ankles, gold embellishments detailing celestial bodies across the lapels and upper back. It was a gift from Stolas when I first arrived at the Goetia estate nearly a decade ago. I put it on and exited to the lobby, seeing the Prince and Pringles chatting. They stopped upon seeing me and my fellow servant nodded in my direction. “Your list, my lady.”

He handed me the small piece of parchment and upon skimming through it I noticed most things were for Stella. Stolas was next to hold his hand, a small lumpy brown bag in his talons. “Some money in case things were not paid for.”

He gently sat the bag in my impish hands. “Thank you, Sire.”

I bowed and placed the bag into the pocket of my coat. Bidding the two goodbye, I headed out the door.

Most of my morning and afternoon were spent going into various shops and picking up the desired packages for the Goetia family. I had acquired a large bag full by the time I headed home. However, as I was walking I felt something wrap around my waist. Looking down I saw a lasso and before I could do anything I was tugged into an alleyway. My head slammed against the brick building behind me and I felt the cold tip of a gun against my temple. Looking up in fright, I saw a light red cowboy imp snarling in my direction. His long tail kept flicking back and forth as he dug the weapon into my skin. “Well, well, well. Look what we have ‘ere. Yer far from home aren’t ya, little Goetia peasant.”

I trembled and the rope around my waist felt like it was going tighter. “W-what do you want?”

He smirked, his golden tooth glinting in the light. “I’ve been watchin’ ya all day, just waitin’ for the right moment to strike. Yer masters need their feathers ruffled so give me all ya got!”

Before I could question what he wanted, he attempted to tug the bag from my hands. I gripped tight and tried to hold it back. Within the struggle the bag ripped and everything dumped out. I gasped and the safety of the gun clicked off. “Pick. It. Up. Darlin’.”

The rope around my waist disappeared and I fell to my knees. My arms trembled as I picked everything up and handed it to him. He threw everything into a knapsack hanging off his shoulder before his yellow eyes stared back down at me. “Ya know, that jacket of yours would fetch a pretty price. Give it.”

I sighed but shakily took it off and handed it to the imp. His eyes scanned me once more before they stopped on the silver chain dangling from my neck. “Tryin’ to hide something valuable, princess? I don’t think so!”

He aimed the black gun at my neck and tapped my necklace with the tip. I gasped and clutched it in my hand. “I-I can’t! You can have everything but that! I-It was a gift from a friend!”

“Save the fuckin’ sob story. Hand it over.”

“No!”

He growled, slapped my hand away, and tugged. I gasped when I heard the chain snap and watched as he twirled the locket in his claws. He gave a chuckle as he opened the heart charm when suddenly his face fell. I could swear his face went paler than it already was. His eyes flicked back up to me and roamed my face, his Adam's apple bobbing from his gulp. Suddenly his gun came up and smacked my temple, throwing me to the ground in pain. I grunted and watched my perpetrator run off. Oh Lucifer, what was I going to tell Stolas?

I sighed in defeat and stood, dusting myself off. Silently I made my way back to the Goetia estate.

When I entered the foyer, I did my best to creep past Stolas’ office. However, he looked up and caught me. “Ah, Y/n! You’re back!”

He stood and made his way out the door to me. A smile graced his beak but it fell when he saw the state of me. My hair had become messed up from my fall and there was most likely a bruise forming from where the imp smacked my temple. “Y/n, oh my stars! Are you alright? What happened?!”

He knelt down and lightly brushed his talons across my forehead. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. On my way back I was robbed. An imp held me at gunpoint and took everything. I’m so sorry!”

I started to cry and held my hands up to my eyes. Stolas placed his hands on my shoulders to try and soothe me. “There, there. Everything will be fine.”

“But won’t Stella be mad? There was some expensive stuff he took.”

“No matter. All I care about is that you’re alright. Here, let’s get some ice to tend to that bruise.”

The Prince took me to the kitchen and had me sit as he went to the freezer. He placed some ice into a plastic bag and had me hold it to my temple. “I’m so sorry, Sire. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s no problem at all, Y/n. I’m just glad all you got was a knock on the head. How about you take it easy and I’ll have Pringles get dinner ready.”

“I can help too, your Highness!”

“No please, I insist.”

I sighed. I never understood why Stolas was so nice to me. “Thank you, Sire.”

He nodded and left me to my devices. 

A few mornings later, I got dressed in my white dress shirt, blue vest and black pants. As I was tying my black bowtie I couldn’t help rub the area where my necklace used to be. It really was sentimental. It was basically a promise ring that my friend could afford at the time. With it gone I felt naked. A knock on my door made me get out of my thoughts. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Pringles. “Y/n, are you almost ready? His Highness is ready for you to take him to the Harvest Moon Festival.”

“I’ll be done in just a minute, sir.”

He nodded and headed off. I quickly tied my bowtie and made my way to the lobby where my boss stood waiting. “Ah Y/n, how are we feeling today? That bruise is not bothering you too much is it?”

Over the next few days my temple had gotten a sick purple and blue bruise. I was sort of used to it due to Stella’s tantrums but this one stung more. “It’s alright. How are we doing today, Sire?”

“Nervous. I heard my dearest Blitzy will be at the ceremony today and I don’t want to mess up in front of him.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, your Highness. Shall we go?”

He nodded and he teleported us to the Wrath ring. As soon as we got there a crowd had already formed around the stage. I walked behind my master and he gave his little speech. As I scanned the crowd, I froze. Standing next to Blitz was the imp that robbed me, a smug look on his face. I couldn’t believe it. Why the hell was he here? The cowboy spotted me and gave me a tip of his hat. I backed up a bit and as soon as Stolas was done I quickly followed him to his private booth. 

The festival went off without a hitch. Stolas was making heart eyes and swooning everytime Blitz was caught in action. As I watched I couldn’t help but notice the cowboy keep his eyes on me when he could. It almost seemed like he was trying to impress me. Soon it was time for Stolas to announce the winners. The two of us went to the stage and the owl cleared his throat. “As for the winners we have in first place, Striker! And in second place, my darling Blitzy!~”

The two came on stage and I could finally put a name to the face. I didn’t dare to look at him, the flashbacks of the gun on his hip attached to my forehead to vivid. The rest kind of went in a blur. I stood by my master’s side as he greeted each of the imps and chatted. It was only a few minutes into the meet and greet I noticed Blitz and his friends missing. I knew Stolas was wanting to talk to his secret lover so I went to look for him. My legs brought me to a house and I couldn’t help but hear the commotion upstairs. I forced myself up the steps and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped my throat. On the floor lay an unconscious male and female imp, Blitz leaning against the bed with his hand on his arm, and Striker holding a rifle out the window. My eyes widened when I realized that the gun was pointed at Stolas.

I rushed in and attempted to tackle the cowboy, but his tail threw me against the wall. “Well look who decided to join us. If it isn’t little Y/n.”

How did he know my name?

I growled and attempted to stand, but his tail trapped me. “Ya know, I wasn’t expectin’ to see yer face again, but hey, I won’t say no to seein’ yer pretty eyes.”

“Fuck you! If you think your flirting will make me forget your robbery and the fact that you were trying to kill my employer, you’re dead wrong!”

I thrashed against his hold but he just laughed. “Who knew ya could be so feisty! I love it.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Blitz stand before he side tackled Striker to the ground. The rifle went flying to the floor and as the two struggled, I grabbed it. I aimed it right at the nasty little cowboy. He threw Blitz off of him and stood, fluffing his jacket. “Now darlin’, how about ya just hand that gun on over.”

“Listen, fucker. I don’t know who you think you are but I never want to see you again. You come near his Highness and I swear to Lucifer I will kill you!”

He glanced from me to the rifle, his mind seemed to be made up. “Alrighty, sugar. Ya win. I’ll go, but don’t think this is the last time we see each other.”

With that he ran towards the window and hopped out. I dropped the rifle and helped Blitz pick up his friends, us returning to Stolas. We explained the situation and we thought it best to leave. The owl prince apologized to the crowd for leaving so soon and with that we were off.

The rest of the month went by as it usually would. Striker was nowhere to be seen which was good and life at the palace was steady. It was the start of the next month and nightfall had hit. Everyone was already asleep and I had just put on my baggy t-shirt and shorts. I was just about to crawl into bed when I felt a shiver run down my spine. Something felt off. I looked around my room when suddenly a hand wormed its way around my mouth. I tried to scream and fight my assailant but they held me tight and close. “Shh, shh, darlin’. Don’t fight. We’re goin’ somewhere safe, I promise ya. Just close those pretty eyes fer me.”

I couldn’t breathe, I could hardly move. Eventually I succumbed to the darkness.

When I woke up it was slow. I could feel I was lying on something and my arms were slightly lifted. I groaned and looked over to see Striker sitting in a chair nearby. “Yer finally awake! Took ya long enough.”

I tugged on my arms to sit up but they just stayed put. Looking up I saw they were tied to the bedposts. I kept tugging like the rope would give way and that just made Striker laugh. “Strugglin’ ain’t gonna help, sweetheart. I’m an expert at tying knots.”

He gave a wink and I scoffed. “Why am I even here? You got what you wanted when you robbed me blind. What more could I possibly give you?!”

“Do ya really not recognize me, Y/n?”

Striker stood and took off his hat, his white bangs flopping into his eyes. I shook my head. Suddenly something shiny was thrusted into my face and after staring at it for a few minutes I realized it was my necklace. The heart charm was open to reveal a picture of me and my childhood friend Benjamin from when we were kids. My eyes glanced between the photo and Striker and finally I understood.

Striker was Benjamin.

“B-Ben?”

“That’s right, babydoll. Yer best friend is back.”

“B-But I thought you were killed in the extermination! I, I-”

“I almost was but I escaped with an inch of my life. Holy bullets are helpful sometimes, ya know.”

I couldn’t believe it. It had been ten years since I had last seen my best friend. We had gotten separated when the extermination hit Hell and since then I believed him to be dead. “I wasn’t expecting to see ya that day. I probably would have killed ya but I recognized ya as soon as I saw yer necklace. I can’t believe ya kept it all these years.”

“How could I throw away the only piece of my best friend away? Dammit Benjamin, why didn’t you come find me?”

He growled and slammed his hands on either side of my head. “I did! I went to the orphanage in Wrath and they told me that the Goetias picked you up! The fuckin’ Goetias! Why would ya go with them after everything I told ya?!”

“Because I lost hope, that’s why! I thought I had lost my best friend and I knew it was only time before they killed me! I had no choice!”

He let out a rattlesnake hiss and backed away, his eyes full of venom. “How could ya lose hope? I promised I’d always come fer ya, didn’t I? That’s what the fuckin’ jewelry was for! To show my devotion and love fer ya!”

I paused. “L-love?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his snout. “Yes, pumpkin. Love. I was gonna confess but the damn extermination got in the way and the rest is history.”

He glanced up at me before sitting by my side, his tail coming up to caress my cheek. “But now that I have ya, I’m never lettin’ go. Yer never goin’ back to those pompous asses. I won’t allow them to take away everything I cherish again.”

His hands were quick to grab my legs in a death grip. “B-Ben, you’re scaring me.”

“It’s not Ben anymore. It’s Striker.”

He held up my locket and I watched as it twirled in the moonlight of the motel room. “When I gave this to ya I made a promise. And now I’m comin’ to collect. I am a bounty hunter after all.”

With that he leaned forward, and our lips were intertwined.

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 6)

🌊 THANK YOU to all my 150 followers! Sorry, I didn’t get to draw an illustration this week BUT the wonderful @oskidontle had blessed me with this lovely fanart of Mer!Pim (thank you again), Please follow them and check out their own awesome Smiling Mermaids AU!✨

Charlie and Mipnessa got along swimmingly enough for two people who just met each other that day…unless, Charlie pondered, if they just-so happen to have already met! Charlie took note of how Mipnessa vaguely resembled the mystery person of whom he recalled rescuing him that morning…and while he wasn’t quite sure at first, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and potentially refresh her memory; He also had a string gut feeling that it wouldn’t be wise to potentially out her as one of the elusive merfolk out of politeness….if not being proven wrong and labeled as a silly-hearted daydream-believer. Charlie ran back to his quarters to swipe the green cloak that was left behind to gently fold it up, then he started rummaging through his closet for a perfectly-sized decorative shoebox to place inside of as a grandiose gesture to Mipnessa before running back to bequeath the gift. “Y’know I have a funny hunch that this is something you’d totally look great in.” The flattered Mipnessa giggled in response: “Showering me with gifts already? You must take a fancy to me.” Feeling overwhelmed with butterflies in his stomach, Charlie blushed with a nervous grin. Mipnessa opened the box and held up the cloak, while she admired the deep emerald green shade, she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what fabric was used for it or could she figure out why it smelled like the brine of clam chowder. “It’s beautiful, and it matches my dress way better than the shawl I’m wearing too.” Charlie replied with a fairly obvious double-meaning: “A match made in heaven.” as he held her hand and proposed: “Perfect for an atmospheric afternoon-to-evening stroll, lemme show you to the outskirts of the palace, the sunset views are amazing out there!”

Meanwhile, Alan had just caught up with the rest of the party as an eagerly-lovestruck Pim alongside a curious Glep followed Graham Nelly to the crisp shore nearby Prince Charlie’s castle. “I can’t wait to see his cute face again!” Pim squealed in delight while fidgeting his hands, Alan sternly reminded him with a business-like tone to mask his anxiety: “We’re here to fetch back your cloak, so that nobody could recognize you and drag you back to that toxic, discourse-infested mess of a palace; We also really shouldn’t stay up here for too long lest we want to be some crazed stowaway’s four-course meal.” Pim’s glee briefly turned into annoyance as he was tempted to roll his eyes at his paranoid friend’s repetitive jargon had it not been for the fact that unlike his family, Alan’s “survival mode”-demeanor was out of genuine concern and love rather than blind bigotry over land folk. When the group made it to their destination, they would come to find that much to their surprise, Charlie was indeed out-and-about, bringing an unexpected guest with him for a neat little walk by the sparkling sapphire waves. While the party of sea critters hid behind the conveniently large rock while observing the scene from a far, they all quickly took notice that the lady accompanying Charlie was wearing an accessory all too familiar to Pim, who shook his head in disbelief before taking another look to find that Charlie was clearly flirting with with her as well. While Alan started discussing a plan to swipe the cloak with Graham, Glep took notice how his buddy Pim was doing. “My cloak…” Pim quietly uttered while overwhelmed with a flurry of mixed emotions, flashing between shock, confusion, hurt feelings and jealously all boiling down into unbridled fury. Glep never saw Pim this angry since that time he was just a teenager and his sister Amy tore the lock on his diary and blurted out all his secrets, including who he was crushing on at the time. Something REALLY must have struck a cord with the usually understanding and compassionate mercritter…

Graham proposed: “We could, like, wrangle a bunch of dolphins together to create a huuuuge wave and splash it right on her so that Prince guy can offer to hang it up for her and when they leave we can snag it from a clothes line, concrete plan!” Alan argued in a snippy-yet-monotone inflection: “Yeah but there’s no clothes line anywhere near water, besides, it would take us all night to achieve that plan anyways.” Graham then got another bright idea: “I know JUST the thing, dude. I have in my collection and it’s this neat tool called a grappling hook! It’s what land folks use to retrieve items from far-away.“ Alan rolled his eyes with an exasperated yawn. “Oh really? Go off I guess.” Graham happily explained: “It’s this long-ass stick with a string attached and at the end of the string it’s a hook! and you toss it far enough and the hook catches-“ he was cut off by a loud, panicked gasp from the horrified Alan, who furiously chided Graham while using his claws as gestures to express his disgust: “You keep a literal weapon used for catching and eating our kind?!! What in Davy Jones’ locker is the matter with you?!” Graham casually shrugged, replying: “I’ve only ever seen something like this being used to catch fish only to throw them back, like they kept catching fish but it’s obvious that she was trying to retrieve something she lost down there.” Alan stood there dumbfounded with his left eye twitching for a few seconds, until he broke silence with a sigh with one claw on his face, “Look, It would just be easier for one of us to sneak up to that lady and quietly snag the cloak away from her.” Graham cheered: “That’s it!” Alan realized exactly what he had in mind and groaned: “Alright, I understand now that I have to put my big-boy shell on.” Glep piped up: “Eskewazebewaboyo!”, Pim’s face perked up at the suggestion. Graham agreed: “Hell yeah! They’ll be too distracted to notice Alan, they’ll be all like: Oh, where is that heavenly sound coming from? Ha! It’ll be a synch!” Alan gulped, “Well, here goes nothing.”

During the conversions Charlie ignited while subtly prying for clues, he had realized that Mipnessa wasn’t the mystery critter. First off, she knew how to swim but preferred to go sailing over swimming. Second she does sing but her voice was rather different from what he had in mind BUT she did play the lute well. Lastly and most glaringly obvious of all was that she had just embarked on Eustace’s ship at the same time the rescue took place and was still miles away from Gremblonia. That being said, Charlie was perfectly content with having Mipnessa as a bride, she may have not been an exotic dream girl but she was a charmingly meek and proper lady whose lute could harmonize well with his ocarina! “You know Mipnessa, I could take you sailing on our ship and go on one of my wild adventures out at sea, maybe we’ll take on a kraken or get into a gang fight with pirates.” Charlie proposed in a suave tone, in response Mipnessa sheepishly loosened up the green cloak ‘round her shoulders, replying: “…y’know, maybe I would like that.” for a brief moment that felt like forever, the two locked eyes and gazed at each other’s presence for what felt like forever. As the sunset started melting into nighttime, the most angelic voice made it’s way to the couple’s eardrums, snapping them out of their trance. Charlie started running around frantically looking for the sound as Mipnessa’s curiosity peaked, joining him as she didn’t pay any mind to Alan’s pincer clinging onto the cloak slipping off of her shoulders. Once the cloak was freed from Mipnessa’s grasp, Alan scurried back fast he could before they’d notice. Meanwhile back behind “home base”, Pim peaking behind as he vocalized his feelings with a warm, sweet a capella with a noticeable tang of seductive amour and just a hint of bitter jealousy; This was Pim’s subtly, classy way of saying out-loud: “That boy is MINE, you got nothing on me you basic bitch!!”. Just as Alan made it to just inches away from water, the lobster tripped on a pebble and got tangled up in the shawl and tried to wriggle his way out. Pim took notice, stopped what he was doing and immediately swam to the scene to finish the job.

Just then Mipnessa realized something was missing. “Oh dear, my cloak!” Charlie blushed upon seeing Mipnessa’s curvy frame accentuated by her sleeveless dress, but quickly snapped out of it. “D-don’t worry, it’s probably back where we left off.” Charlie stumbled back to where he and Mipnessa where viewing the sunset, what he discovered was more than just the cloak itself: it was none other than the mystery critter who rescued him, half-submerged in water while clad in a seashell bra, freeing what looked like a lobster that somehow got trapped inside before taking back what was rightfully theirs. Charlie stood there and froze in shock, asking himself if he was just seeing things or he was trapped in some sort of dream, as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief, the mystery critter already vanished. A tinge of guilt filled Charlie’s heart, as he wished he could have apologized for giving her cloak away, but his thoughts broke as Mipnessa was calling for him to return. Charlie ran back and tried to explain what happened but all that came out was nervous gibberish that Mipnessa initially assumed was Spammish, until he blurted: “Damn lobster made off with the cloak!!” while shaking his fist. Mipnessa giggled: “Duke Eustace was right, you are a washed-up mess of a boy!” Charlie once again froze, embarrassed, until she nudged him a with a smile and reassurance: “At least you’re not some stuck-up old prune.”

~ Damien (and the rest of the search party) spent two days looking for Pim with a nagging conscience, he swore to Neptune if he found his littlest sibling, he’d work hard on being a better brother overall. Ironically, he found a patch of sea flowers to rest upon for the night, just as he was about to lie down he saw a short, cloaked figure picking the flowers, presumably for herbal use. “Pimberly, is that you?!” All he got in response was the laughter belonging to an elderly-sounding sea critter. “Oh deary, I’m afraid I’m not the lost Princess, I’m just an old botanist making medicine.” Damien’s heart sank, his pink skin turning grey at the reveal. “But, I have seen Princess Pimberly ‘round these corners.” Damien’s eyes widened with relief, begging: “Please, tell me where!” The old wisenheimer gave a concerning hint: “I’ve seen the Princess swimming in-and-out of this grotto hauling a satchel full of the most WORTHLESS crap!” Damien pressed for more answers: “So, where is this grotto?”

🐚

Chapter 7 Coming August 9th

[magicbystarlight]

Too Late

Summary: An old friend asks how you are.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+, angst, injuries, mentions of torture, loss of the will to live, death of a loved one mentioned. Minors DNI.

A/N: Been sitting in my docs for years lol

The greenhouse was empty as you studied the Devil's Snare. A quiet reprieve from the ever present eyes that followed you inside the castle. You may have been back at Hogwarts, but the thought of interacting with any more of your classmates burned your throat worse than the Firewhiskey you had drowned yourself in for months.

The pity filled stares.

The sympathetic ‘How are you?’s.

The condolences.

It was all fucking performative. Ernie, Lisa, Anthony, Micheal, Susan. They all offered their support from a distance after the first week. Like if they got too close they would end up like you. Orphaned. Alone. Bitter. The only person you were sure actually gave a shit was Hannah. But after everything Hannah had been through it didn’t feel right to lean on her.

A hiss escaped your lips as you bent the wrong way to fetch a quill. The rage that had built in you over the last year boiled over any time either of the Carrows opened their mouths. It was a childish response that was dealt with harshly, but you couldn’t muster enough care to reign it in. Eventually you would either have to shut up or swallow your pride and see Madam Pomfrey. Neither were likely to happen any time soon.

The cracked bones and bruised skin were less painful than seeing the others stand silently by. They heard every crunch and agonized cry that you didn't attempt to muffle. You wanted to ensure that the ones that turned their faces knew exactly how painful every blow was.

You’d heard rumors spread through hushed dinner conversations that Neville and Ginny were receiving similar treatments, but it was nearly impossible to speak with the Gryffindors. Snape and the others had taken great care in alienating the lions from the rest of the Houses, switching the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables in the Great Hall and restricting each House to sit only with Housemates at all times anywhere they went. It was only through slipped notes between meals that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were able to communicate. The professors watched it all with stoic expressions, the only hint of emotion left was in their eyes that were too frequently red. You tried not to hate them, but for every night you laid awake in pain, that resolve cracked. They were supposed to protect the school. Instead, they'd yielded it to monsters.

You almost admired what Voldemort had created. He and his lackeys had constructed a near perfect system of control, one that relied entirely on fear. Fear of pain. Fear of losing someone. Fear of death. It worked undeniably well on the student populace who feared for themselves, their friends, and their families. Nothing, however, was infallible.

They failed to account for the ones like you. The ones who had nothing left to lose except their own, miserable existence and who accepted reality. You were at war. People would die. People had died. Until the day Voldemort was dead himself, life would continue to be snuffed out by his people whenever it became too bothersome. You were well aware that you were pushing on being too bothersome, the only thing keeping you from tipping the scale too far being your blood status. Just pure enough to keep their attacks non lethal. It hadn't saved your mom, but you were young and pleasant looking enough to get to keep breathing, if only for a little while longer.

The door to the greenhouse creaked open slowly behind you. You spun, wand already in hand and a Stunning spell rolling off your lips. It barely missed the tall, dark-haired boy—no, he was a man now—who was ducked in the doorway. As he straightened, your wand did not drop but you hesitated.

He looked different than he had two years before. His hair was longer, stubble spread across the face he had been so insistent on keeping smooth before. His eyes were the same shade of green, but rimmed in red. His face was gaunt and he seemed unsteady on his feet.

"What do you want?"

He shifted uneasily, eyes locked on your wand. "To see if you're okay."

A harsh sound erupted from you, one that barely resembled the humorless laugh you had meant. Okay? You hadn't been okay in over a year. Not since you were pulled from class and told your mother had been murdered. It had only gotten worse since. "I'm fucking peachy. Now get out."

"I just want to talk to you."

"Talk to me? So you can go off and give a report to your Death Eater father? Piss off."

"That's not fair—

"Fair? How horrible of me not to be fair to someone who's buddies with the people that murdered my parents. How fucking unfair.”

He watched cautiously as violet sparks danced at the tip of your still raised wand. “Papera, please,” he said with hands raised in surrender, the old nickname slipping too easily from his lips. “I’m worried about you and I—I’ve missed you.”

Once upon a time you had dreamt of those last three words. Back before the world had turned to complete shit and Voldemort was less of a threat than a certain frog-like professor. Back when the end of the friendship was still a fresh gaping wound. Back when you could have believed he didn’t know better.

“It’s a little too late for that, Theo.” Your voice shook on his name as you clung desperately to the anger that was slipping from you. It was an unspoken promise you had made to yourself that you would only break behind the drawn curtains of your bed with a Silencing Charm cast on yourself so your sobs could go unheard.

Theo took a step closer to you as the sparks weakened, hands still raised. "It's not. It's not too late."

Another attempt to laugh tore at your throat. "It's not a simple difference of opinion anymore. How many people has your dad murdered or tortured? Tell me, have you been blessed with your master's brand yet? Or are you looking to use me as an opportunity to prove your worth?"

A violet jet of light shot from your wand into the door behind him followed by the thunderous sound of cracking glass as lines began to race across the Greenhouse windows. Neither of you moved despite the threat that now loomed overhead, both locked into place by the other's stare.

"I don't have it and I don’t want that damned Mark,” he said as he slowly unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve on his left arm and pushed it up to reveal a clear patch of skin beneath. “I swear, I didn't know.”

You didn’t want to believe him. How could you trust anything he said? You didn’t even trust the people who slept in the beds next to you anymore. You couldn’t. Trusting people gave you something to lose. You lowered your wand, the glass creaking above you. “Can you do me a favor, then?”

“Anything.”

The way he pleaded that single word had your eyes squeezing shut to block out its anguish. In another lifetime, maybe things could have been different. Maybe that love that had once existed could’ve survived a bit of teenage angst. But not in this lifetime. You were too much your mother’s daughter. And he was too much his father’s son.

A solitary tear slid down your cheek. “When this is all over, make sure I’m buried next to my mother.”

[purpleajisai]

Uchiha Observation n°1: Sasuke’s lineage - headcanons, storyline and hints in canon

This post is part of the worldbuilding process for a fanfic idea that I’ve been maturing over the past year, so I will update this if needed. I have wondered about the relationship between Madara and Sasuke for a long while now, and I knew there has to be a deeper connection than just reincarnations of Indra. The moment that piqued my interest was the point that Hashirama made about Sasuke looking like Izuna, implying that if Madara saw someone so similar to his beloved younger brother he could listen to what Sasuke had to say and perhaps change his mindset in regards to the war.

This cannot be a coincidence. Today, I’m going to share my headcanon regarding Madara and Sasuke’s kinship: Sasuke is Madara’s great nephew, connnected through Izuna. Here is the genealogical tree:

First of all, let’s explain Izuna’s generation. Of course, you can see Madara represented there as an older brother as well as the 4 unnamed younger siblings mentioned in the river flashbacks. The language used by Madara suggest that there were 5 other siblings aside from him, not 5 in total and including him. In the case of Izuna, according to the databooks he died at age 24, which is definitely old enough to be married and have a child.

And perhaps the readers are wondering why I’m not considering Madara to be married as well since he’s not only older than Izuna but also the clan leader. The only reason why I’m not giving him a wife and kids at the time of Izuna’s death is because I want to adhere to canon in this regard (no spoilers about the fic’s plot).

In the storyline I’ve planned, Izuna would die and leave behind a little baby or even a pregnant wife. The exact moment is yet undecided. However, it is through this only son of Izuna from which we can connect him to Sasuke. Once Izuna’s son grows up, having the pressure of being the last surviving heir to the clan, it’s not far-fetched for this man to have more than 2 children to ensure his legacy and prevent the clan from descending into anarchy. The reason why his firstborn son, who would be Izuna’s eldest grandson, is marked as “disgraced” in this chart is because the existence of this generation collides with the 2nd Great Ninja War. A possible reason I may consider to add for his fall into disgrace and shunning by the clan is that he would’ve left some Uchiha comrades to die in order to protect important Konoha intel, therefore gaining the reputation of a traitor and not being suitable for inheriting the clan’s leadership.

With the eldest son banned from the position of clan heir, the younger son would immediately take his place. From the disgraced eldest brother, we get Obito’s ancestry, and from the younger brother we get Mikoto’s generation. For Obito’s case, I theorize a normal Uchiha picked at random wouldn’t be able to handle the toll of Madara’s eyes, whether in EMS or Rinnegan form. Technically speaking, these eyeballs are actually Izuna’s, reinforcing his importance for this lineage. Please consider the importance of genetics in handling kekkei genkai in the Naruto universe. For Mikoto’s case, I added an older brother for her. Why? Because it used to be a custom in the Sengoku period and the subsequent Edo period to follow agnatic (male-only) succession for leadership. The death of Mikoto’s brother would put Fugaku as a leader, given that he’s the husband of a bearer of the lineage of clan leaders.

Finally, we get to Itachi and Sasuke. Neither one nor another were “normal” Uchiha: both unlocked the mangekyo sharingan and handled the toll of the Susano’o, among other remarkable feats. If Sasuke is connected to Madara through Izuna’s descendants, it would imply the existence of a direct line of ancestry that starts with Indra himself. The headcanons regarding the internal structure of the Uchiha clan will be discussed in a future post. The direct family line from Izuna to Sasuke can therefore explain why both looked so similar (recessive genetics) and why Madara felt nostalgic or touched at the sight of someone who resembled his beloved little brother so much.

Thanks for reading thus far, and if you have any questions plkease use the blog’s ask box.

[cressidagrey]

Glorious Sunrise - Chapter 7

Summary:

So what happens after the mating bond snaps?

Well-meaning interfering family members, deep conversations and nights spent brooding on the roof like some kind of gargoyle…this one has it all.

Warnings:

horrible self image, medical emergency, Mor bashing if you squint

(thanks to @cafekitsune for the super pretty dividers!)

I think I can fix it. 

Galena’s words echoed in Azriel's head…even after she had healed Emerie’s wings enough that they nearly looked like they had before. She hadn’t actually needed to fondle his wings like Cassian had expected, she just needed to watch him move them twice, spread out for her view so that she could see how the muscles attached, could see how skin moved over bones. 

“Should we get Mor?” Cassian asked him quietly as he stepped out of the room as the others worked to make Emerie more comfortable, probably ending up cutting her out of the fighting leathers she wore, so that she wouldn’t need to move. 

“You mean Mor, who still pretends that none of us know whatever is going on between her and Emerie?” Azriel gave back drily. “I think she’s with Rhys, isn’t she?” 

“I’ll let him know.” 

It didn’t take longer than maybe 5 minutes and they had a furious and worried Mor in front of them. Unsurprising as far as Azriel was concerned. 

He never commented on Mor and Emerie's budding relationship, because it hadn’t been his place. It had been none of his business. 

“What happened?” she demanded from Cassian, who grimaced. 

“Our newest obstacle course was a horrible idea and Emerie’s wings got crushed?” he answered questioningly and Azriel half expected Mor to pull a knife on both of them. 

Neither of them had even thought about the fact that something that was safe for them with two completely functioning wings they could move,  would be pretty much impossible for Emerie, who shlepped around dead weight with her. Not the least because she had gnashed her teeth into every new challenge they had put in front of her and come out victorious.

“Is Madja with her?” Mor demanded harshly. 

“Madja wasn’t available. Galena is with her,” Azriel said quickly. “It’s already looking much better, Mor,” he promised her. “The bleeding was already stemmed.”

“Does she know what she is doing?” Mor asked and Azriel just raised one eyebrow in response. 

“She managed to save Azriel, so I’ll argue yes,” Cassian said pointedly. “You saw her work then.” 

“Did she ever deal with wings before?” Mor pushed, just as the door opened and Galena appeared in the doorway. 

“I have but I’ll need Cosima for the rest. She’s something of an…expert on wings,” Galena explained. “You may sit with Emerie if you want to. She’s stable for the moment. Everything else I need to do is just…” She didn’t even end her sentence, because Mor shouldered past. 

Galena watched it, her lips pursing. She wasn't the only one. Annoyance was building in Azriel's gut at Mor's behaviour, even when he knew that it probably wasn't meant as a slight against Galena, and was just her worry for the female she loved. 

And still, Galena was leaning heavily on her cane and had done everything she could to help Emerie. 

“Are you alright?” Cassian asked, quicker than Azriel was. 

“Yeah, I am fine. Just tired,” she answered. He acted quicker then, pulling her onto his lap, where Cassian and he were both sitting on a bench facing the doorway and she let him fold her into his arms. 

“Do you need sugar?” he asked her, remembering one absent-minded comment about how she used that to feed her magic. 

“Please,” she agreed. Cassian chuckled but did ask the house to provide something sugary to eat, and quickly enough Galena got an almond pastry the size of her head on a plate…drizzled with chocolate. 

The House never bothered to give him stuff like that, though for her they clearly did. 

“Thank you,” Galena said aloud and the lights brightened for just a moment.”

“Could one of you fetch Cosima? I send her a letter, she should be ready soon enough,” Galena asked between bites and he held her a little bit tighter. 

“Of course,” Cassian agreed. “She helped fix my wings after the war,” he told Azriel and he weakly remembered a red-haired female that had supported Madja during some of the healing sessions for Cassian’s ruined wings. 

Cassian left, going off to fetch Cosima, leaving them alone, Galena still eating her pastry. He breathed in the scent of peppermint that was clinging to her and felt her relax against his chest, curling together there…resting for just a moment. 

“You want some?” she asked, holding out the rest of the almond pastry, absentmindedly. She clearly didn’t even think what she was doing. 

The want flared brightly in his chest. 

He wanted nothing more. He wanted nothing more than to take that stupid almond pastry and eat it. 

“If I eat that, you won’t get to fix Emerie’s wings, because we’ll be too busy with the mating frenzy,” he said drily and Galena flinched with surprise, staring at him, before dropping her head against his shoulder. 

“My brain is not quite there,” she apologized and he just chuckled. He knew that.

Though that offer…it had been so easily given and he trailed his fingers over her spine as her breathing evened out. And there was something inside him that was stupidly pleased about how there was no shock in her scent or her features...just true surprise. 

Galena wasn’t asleep, he knew that…she was thinking something through, clearly a complicated thought process, her face portraying her emotions until she finally settled on something. 

The shadows went and fetched her two books from her rooms and after she had read whatever she needed, Cosima and Cassian had appeared. Galena and her fellow healer were busy talking about whatever they planned on doing, j ust as Mor pulled open the door, her arms crossed. 

“You truly think that you can reverse the clipping?” she asked sharply. Azriel bristled, but Galena, placed a hand on his arm, calming him, near absentmindedly. 

“I am reasonably confident that I can fix at least some of the muscle tremors and give back a broader range of motion, even if I fail with recreating the ability to fly,” Galena said carefully. 

“But you have no evidence. You have never done this before,” Mor stated, looking not at all like she was willing to even consider it.

“I have not,” Galena agreed. “I have a working theory that Cosima agrees with.”

“You are not the one making this decision,” Emerie’s voice came quietly from the bed. “If you think this works, then I want to try it.”

“And what if it goes wrong?” Mor hissed. “What then? Think about the risk!”

“There is always a risk,” Cosima agreed. “But if we never take it, then we’ll never get better.”

“So you want to use her as your experiment!” Mor nearly exploded with rage at that, and Azriel had enough. 

"Morrigan," he bit out sharply.

“She was right with Azriel,” Cassian said, her voice icy. “She had a working theory then as well, and that turned out alright!”

“No offence, but you spent most of your time in a stillroom, stirring potions. And I am supposed to let you cut into Emerie’s wings?” Mor asked Galena with a huff, who didn’t even seem surprised by that. 

He opened his mouth to defend her, but Cosima was faster. 

“If you think that Galena spends all her time in the stillroom, then you underestimate her,” Cosima gave back just as sharply. “She does spent a lot of time there, that’s true. She’s a skilled potioneer with an incredible grasp of perfecting and improving potions. But that is only some of her work. Another large chunk is the research she does. Galena is who people go to if they have no other option anymore. She finds another option. Or she makes one,” Cosima said calmly. “She saved my life two years ago, with one of her experiments .”

Right. Cosima and Orion. Her son. 

“My husband is a Sialia faerie,” Cosima said, crossing her arms. Native to the Spring Court.  “Blue skin, black wings? Quite Pointy. Not dissimilar to Illyrian wings at all.  We had a daughter first. She was born without any wings, like every other Half-Sialia child there has been in recorded history. The wings never get passed down if the bloodline gets diluted. She got his skin though. And then I got pregnant again. My son inherited the wings,” Cosima recounted, swallowing. It was obvious that even years later, it still was something that took a toll on her. 

“At that point, Galena had already been researching tirelessly for the High Lady and she believed she had found a way to save both mother and child. But it was risky. She knew that as well. A major abdominal cut, through seven different layers of tissue to reach the baby.”

God, that sounded like Galena had disembowelled Cosima to get the baby out in one piece. And she had survived that?

“But with the right potions…and the right spells…Galena was sure that she could do it,” Cosima continued. “And really at that point, she was our only option. And she proved her theory. Galena was the only thing standing between me and my child and death. And she laughed into death’s face.” 

“It healed perfectly. The only thing that reminds me of it is one thin white line. I owe my son’s life to her. I owe my life to her. So when Galena Kosciarz says that she thinks she can fix this…She can. And she will. She will find a way to fix this.”

He swallowed, staring at his mate. 

He had known that she was smart, but he had never quite…thought about how smart, or how far her abilities went.  He knew that she was good at her job but not…not how good. 

How utterly fantastic. 

“So when can you do it?” Emerie asked. “Now?”

“Yes,” Galena answered, her voice quiet. “I can do that.”

And she did. 

He had no fucking idea what exactly she did to Emerie’s wings…how she cut into the scar tissue and removed it, and then put something or other there and there…how exactly she did…the magic she pushed into her, clenching her teeth with the pure magical power that she wielded so knowledgeable…ice and peppermint covering the room. 

He only knew that by the end, she touched one wing, so very gently and delicately…as she helped Emerie stretch it out to it’s full length…something he knew she had been unable to. 

“How’s that? Any pain?” Galena asked. 

Emerie shook her head, tears in her eyes. “The tremors are gone,”  she whispered. 

“This is going to take time to heal,” Galena explained softly as she helped her snap the wing closed again. “You won’t be able to fly tomorrow. Or even a week from now on. But if you take your time…you may be able to…at least over short distances. If everything heals well.”

Galena had done that. 

She may have just given back the freedom of flight…and she didn’t even seem to realise what a gift she had just given Emerie. 

Didn’t even think it was anything special. 

He couldn’t help but stare at her, still in a quiet conversation with Emerie and Nesta and Gwyn and Mor…

“You must be Azriel,” Cosima said, standing next to him and he could just nod, staring at his mate. Glorious…he had once thought. Brilliant, he thought now. Brilliant and Glorious and a thousand other things. “You aren’t the only one in awe of her,” Cosima quipped brightly. “She does things like this and doesn’t even think it’s a big deal…Like it’s normal.”

And it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

She wasn’t normal, but not in the way she had thought…in a way that was utterly enthralling. 

He managed to pry her away after a little while, as he saw the tremor in her hands and how she fought to stay awake, the magic she had used taking its toll on her. 

“I figured we could stay here tonight,” he told her softly, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck and she nodded blearily. 

He could do this. 

There was something inside him that was very pleased at the idea of providing his mate with comfort like that…something inside him that loved it when he could do something to soothe her, something to take care of for her. 

Just like when he had massaged her back…this time, he gently shepherded her into his bedroom in the House of Wind which he hadn’t properly used in weeks. 

“What do you think about a bath?” he asked, waiting for her soft agreement, as he already could hear the taps in the bath turn on, the bathtub being filled. 

The House seemed to have found a new person to dote on, for the moment at least. 

Nothing would ever reach the lengths it would go to for Nesta, but Galena seemed to have been accepted as somebody the house would occasionally dote on as well. 

There were a few grumpy shadows that complained to him that this was *our job, Master!* though . They swarmed around, helping him loosen the ties of her corset and untying her shoes and pulling her dress over her head…

He scooped her up to put her in the bathtub, not wanting her to loose her balance on the tiles and she curled up against his chest with a content little sigh, every bit of tension bleeding out of her. 

“Gods, you really did a number on yourself,” he said softly, as he started washing her hair with whatever the House decided to provide, just in time, for the shadows to fetch her a glass of lemonade and Azriel bit back the amusement as the shadows and the House seemed to be in some kind of unspoken competition who could do more to make galena comfortable. 

Lemonade here, lavender oil for the bath there…a little plate piled high with little pralines of chocolate, candles that suddenly surrounded the bathtub…He didn’t even want to think of what they thought of next. 

“It’s okay,” Galena said, her voice exhausted, her eyes not even bothering to open the whole way. “As long as Emerie is better.”

Yeah. And she was better. her wings looked better after hours of Galena’s attention than they had even this morning. 

“You know what you have given her?” he said softly, sliding his hands around her body, gently holding her. Her skin was cold to his touch, even with the warm beath and his own body curved around the back of hers…cold with exhaustion probably. 

“We don’t know if it works,” Galena protested, staring at him, the good eye blinking open blearily. “The only thing we know is that she has no pain right now.”

“It will work,” Azriel said calmly. He was certain of that. It was going to work. “You have given her her wings back, Lena,” he whispered. “Illyrians clip their females and take away their cauldron-given right to fly and taste the sky and hear the song of the wind…and you…you just gave that back to her. Even if she won’t be able to fly over long distances…you have given her that hope back.”

She had done that. So easily. So…

With so much care and so much of simply wanting to help and…

She had done that. 

“I hope it works,” she gave softly back. He could hear that she really hoped that. “I love you,” she whispered, pressing her lips against his shoulder, even in her half-asleep, completely exhausted state. 

“I love you too,” he gave back quietly, pressing a kiss against her head. 

He fished her out of the bathtub, and managed to pull one of his shirts over her small frame...it was nearly laughably oversized on her…and then she pretty much collapsed into his bed, even as he bundled her underneath the blankets. 

And Azriel curled around her and remembered a time when he had spent so much time laying in this very bed, unable to get even a wink of sleep. 

And then, how easy it came now when he could pull Galena in his arms, and feel her heartbeat, quiet and steady, smell peppermint and snow…and know that she was safe and warm in his arms…and that nothing would happen. 

To know that he was there and that she loved him, just as he loved her. 

After 500 years, he had finally found his peace. 

Even after he had long since given up on that. 

Two weeks later, when Emerie managed to fly for the first time with her newly healed wings, Galena proved her theory. 

[geekgirles]

The more time passes, the clearer it becomes season 4 was peppered with lots of little details meant to foreshadow the events taking place in the manga, especially in Amalia's arc of the story.

As I once mentioned to my friend @alittlebookdust, one such detail is the way the characters are arranged during the assembly. More specifically, how the Sheran Sharms appear as opposed to Aurora.

As we can all see, Armand and Amalia are on the same floating rock, representing their people, whereas Aurora is standing on the same rock as her family, the Osamodas. This is an early indication of where her true alliance lies.

During a first viewing, it's easy to explain this as Aurora having gone to her kingdom to visit her family and make sure they're alright, so it only makes sense she would arrive at the assembly alongside her birth family rather than with her husband and sister-in-law.

However, what makes her positioning all the more suspicious is the fact that, despite seeing her husband and even interacting with him and Amalia (if the contemptuous greeting they send each other can even be called a 'greeting'), she makes no effort to move and stand alongside them.

That action or lack thereof is very telling, since she is supposed to be the new Sadida Queen, meaning she would be expected to stand beside her King and the Sadida Princess in representation of their kingdom. And yet, she remains exactly where she is during the entire assembly.

Keep in mind we're talking about a woman who has the power to turn into a bird to fly from one place to another. Leaving her family's assigned rock to stand next to Armand and Amalia should not have been a problem.

In fact, this isn't the first time ToT and his team have used visual keys to showcase Aurora's true nature and the effect it has on Amalia and Armand's relationship. After all, as we all know, her bangs covering her eye is a deliberate choice meant to portray how she's manipulative and hides her true nature behind a curtain of fake kindness and "well-meaning" intentions, just like she was located right between Amalia and Armand during the dinner scene to illustrate how her presence was an element meant to disrupt the royal siblings' relationship.

Therefore, it would not be far-fetched to believe the creators are once again using visual elements and hints to deepen the interactions and motivations of the characters, as well as to hint at future developments.

In this case, through those frames and narrative choices where Aurora remains with her family, the Wakfu team is already telling us so much about her and her true character. The fact that she never entertains the thought of leaving her family to join Armand and Amalia in representation of the Sadida Kingdom comes to show once again how Aurora was always meant to be the Sadida Queen in name only and, thus, undeserving of the title after Armand's death and Amalia's coronation.

Deep down, she's always been an Osamodas princess looking out for her own kingdom's best interests, rather than the Sadidas': as these frames show, her place was never beside the Sheran Sharms.