#yes i took the papers i found for. reasons. they are my treasures now

[lizbotw]

i found a folded schedule and campus map from 2014 in a book at my university’s library today. almost a decade it went untouched. my heart hurts i love life

[talaok]

The perfect bunny

Pairing: Joel Miller x ff!reader

Summary: Christmas with Joel and bunny (for context joel is the boss of a group of criminals in the Boston QZ, and you are his girl)

Warnings: rushed writing, unprotected p in v sex, and a whole lot of fluff

A/n: Happy holidays guys, I love you all so very very much❤️

This is part of a series but it can be read alone. If you wanna read more of Joel and bunny, click here

He had done everything.

Everything you asked for, he had made come true.

Your house was filled with every Christmas decoration he had found in the whole QZ, garlands, mistletoe, little raindeers and Santa clauses overfilled your shelves, and then right there, in the middle of the living room, was the centerpiece... the tree, filled to the brim with ornaments you had put up together, as a family, because that's what you were, you and him, a family.

He even went as far as finding an old cd with christmas songs, all because you mentioned once how much you missed hearing them.

You'll never know what you did to deserve him, to deserve such unconditional, pure love, but what you didn't know is that he felt exactly the same, that the reason he did everything you asked, always, was because you had saved him in more ways he could have ever explained.

And now, now in a world gone to hell, in a world that in many ways wasn't even a world anymore, where people didn't live, but survived, thanks to him, and thanks to you, you were alive again, and you were celebrating Christmas in a way you thought had become unimaginable.

"this is for you" you grinned, handing him his neatly packaged present.

You were sat under the tree as you had insisted, having ignored his protests about his achy back.

"for me?" he asked, his excitement piercing through his tone.

He hadn't gotten a gift in years if he didn't count you, so of course he was happy.

"yes daddy, all for you" You nodded eagerly

"mhh" he hummed, unwrapping it with care, his lips splitting into one of those huge, almost childish smiles he didn't grant himself often enough.

"20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" he breathed, grasping the book as if it was the most precious treasure on this earth "Where did you even find this?"

You chuckled, leaning closer to him "You're not the only one who people answer to around here Miller"

"'s that right?" he smirked, amused

"damn right" you laughed, leaving a quick peck on his lips "You like it?"

"I love it bunny" he answered in a second, still smiling wholeheartedly "I can't believe you remembered, thank you"

"of course I remembered" you grinned, shaking your head before he brought his lips to yours again to show you just how grateful he was, which according to the way he didn't seem in any way willing to lean away, was a whole lot.

You giggled, breaking the kiss

"I've got you something too, baby"

Your eyes widened, every feature of yours brightening with glee.

"you did?" you smiled "I thought the ones you gave me this morning were my gifts" you murmured giddily.

"Not a chance bunny" he shook his head, stroking your cheek "Making you come is just as much your pleasure as it is mine"

You hummed in contentment, biting your bottom lip as he fished something out of his pajama pants, handing you a tiny wrapped something.

You took it in your hands, looking up at him with joy.

"I know the wrapping's not great," he said, a little self-conscious now that he saw what a gorgeous package you'd made him

"What are you talking about?" you reassured him "It's perfect, daddy"

You held your breath as you opened it, remaining immobilized at the sight before you once the paper was all gone.

It was a necklace. A tiny silver necklace, with the cutest bunny hanging at the bottom.

Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him, your hands shaking ever so little.

"Joel" you whispered, at a loss for words "This is... this is beautiful" you breathed "H-how did you even get it?"

"had to make just a few people mad, but that's about it" he shrugged, relishing in the amazement on your face.

"A few people?" you couldn't help but laugh, a small tear fleeing your eye "I-I don't know what to say, baby, this is- this is gorgeous"

"you don't have to say anything" he promised, "c'mon, let's go to the mirror so I can put it on you"

And so, with wobbly legs, you followed him to the mirror a few feet away at the entrance of your home.

He stepped beside you, and you handed him the piece, watching as he put it on you with care, leaving a little kiss on your shoulder when he was done.

And of course, it sat perfectly right between your chest, a little piece of him to carry everywhere you went.

"Joel I love it" you whispered "It's-it's perfect"

He hummed contently, his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your reflection

"A perfect bunny for my perfect bunny"

A smile erupted on your face at his words, and you couldn't help but turn around, towards him, towards the love of your life.

"thank you" you murmured, your hands on each side of his face, "thank you so much"

And then again, you were kissing, kissing as if there was no tomorrow, your lungs burning from how much oxygen you were robbing them of.

"I love you bunny" he breathed, earning another kiss

"I love you too, Joel" you promised, looking into his loving eyes for another moment before deciding on something.

"sit down," you said

"sit down?" he frowned, watching you confusedly

"just do it daddy" you laughed, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch

he did as told, his legs spread open and his eyes trained on you.

You could feel his gaze burn a hole in the back of your head as you walked over to the stereo to turn the volume up, a Christmas song flowing through the room better now.

"whatcha doing bunny?" he asked "You sure as hell better not be planning on handcuffing me again"

You laughed at that, and at the memory of the despair in his eyes that night.

"I'm not, daddy, don't worry" You smiled walking up to him until you were right in front of him,

"no, then what are you doing darlin'?"

"I'm thanking you" you said sweetly, your hips starting to gently move in synch with the sound

"'s that right?" he murmured, his eyes falling to your chest as you started unbuttoning the falnnel oh his covering it "what for?"

"mh" you hummed, smiling as you let the shirt fall to the floor "for everything daddy" you explained, slowly turning around and shimmying your shorts off your legs, making a show of bending down to pick them up just to throw them to your left.

he groaned at the sight, and you couldn't help but giggle, spinning back around.

"goddamn bunny" he purred, taking in every inch of your body as you started playing with the straps of your bra, forcing them to fall off your shoulders painfully slowly.

You looked as he watched every movement of yours like a hawk, and you would have teased him further if it wasn't that you were supposed to be thanking him.

So without any further ado, you undid the clasp of your bra, and let it fall to your feet, a soft "fuck" escaping his throat.

Next came your panties.

Your hips were still moving to the music as your fingers seeped through the waistband, gripping at the edge of them and then slowly pulling down, until they pooled at your feet making Joel's cock feel a moment away from bursting.

You smiled, wordlessly placing a hand on his shoulders to prop yourself up as you straddled his lap, his mouth immediately finding yours.

"thank you daddy" you whispered, kissing his cheek "Thank you for the necklace" Another kiss, now on right below his ear "Thank you for the decorations" now down his neck, your breath tickling his skin "for sitting under the tree even if your back hurts" you couldn't resist the urge to chuckle, your hands now trailing to his pants "thank you for the cd" again, another kiss on his neck, before you freed his cock from his pants, and looked up at him "thank you for everything daddy"

His cock slipped into you with ease, and he groaned loudly as you started moving on top of him, a position he didn't get to feel much (by his own volition), and you moaned into his mouth as you kissed him.

"thank you daddy" you continued, your words messy and breathy as you picked up your pace "for everything you do for me everyday" you said, his cock feeling every bit as good as ever "for- for listening to me" you moaned "and taking care of me" his dick was so deep you could feel it in your belly, hitting your g-spot with each of your movements "and for letting me take care of you" you smiled, as he gripped your waist, savoring the sight before him "t-thank you so much daddy" you breathed, embarrassingly enough slowing down, your thighs on fire.

"you're tired" he murmured with amusement

"no 'm not" You shook your head, trying to pick up your pace and failing miserably

"no?" he asked, smirking like a bastard

"no" you denied again, smiling a little at your obvious lie

"lay down bunny" he tried to persuade you

"no way" you protested "I'm supposed to be treating you daddy, to be thanking you"

"trust me this pussy of yours is enough of a thank you for a million lives"

"daddy..." you pouted, trying to convince him

"what if I just help out a bit, hm?" he asked, watching your eyes brighten

"just a bit" you accepted, and in a moment, he was thrusting up into you, and only a moment later, you were moaning loudly at the feeling, the thought of doing all the work well out the window.

"thank you daddy" you cried, "I love you so much" you promised, your orgasm taking over you

"thank you babygirl" he grunted "for being in my life" he said, his words falling into your gaped mouth "for making everything better"

"for being you" he breathed, watching as you came all over his cock "for being the best thing that ever happened to me, bunny"

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Pfft hear me out yandere trio Luffy , Zoro and Nami reaction when female reader admits that Buggy kinda cute (HE IS !! Don’t judge me 💅) since it’s a running gag in the show/movies that this trio always pulls a face hearing his name XD😘

please !🙏 He’s a clown but he’s my clown 🥰🤣

I can't judge, I get it. Goofy men are cute and you're 100% correct

What the Heart Wants

Yandere Luffy, Zoro, and Nami x Fem!Reader (plus Buggy but he's only mentioned)

1.9k words

This was risky, you knew it was, but it happened on an impulse and it was too late to turn back now. Your pulse quickened as you snuck off into the girl’s room with your newest acquired treasure. You paused at the door and pressed your ear to it to listen for anyone else heading this way.

Nothing. You’re in the clear.

Scurrying over to your bed, you fish the rolled up piece of paper from your sleeve. You didn’t even think about it when you saw the bounty poster on the wall. It was like your hands had a mind of their own, ripping it down and stuffing the poster into your sleeve without your brain even fully registering the action.

Sure, this could backfire if someone finds you with it, but so long as you’re careful it should be fine.

Unrolling the paper, you can’t help but giggle and kick your feet at the sight of the man on the poster. It felt silly to be so giddy over just seeing a picture of the man, but you couldn’t help it. Buggy had this sort of goofy charm to him, and it had a chokehold on you. You’ve always found people like that endearing, it’s a majority of the reason you joined Luffy’s crew. 

This time though, the endearment went beyond being platonic. Instead of simply feeling a warm fondness towards Buggy, you found your heart beating erratically when you thought about him too much. The last time you’d seen him in person and made eye contact, you immediately felt blood rush to your face and had to avert your eyes.

In short, you were down bad.

You were so transfixed on the poster, that you didn’t hear anyone approaching the room until the door was thrown open. In a panic, you leap up from your bed and held the poster close to your chest in an attempt to shield it from prying eyes.

Nami was standing in the doorway, looking confused and slightly startled by your strange reaction to her entering your shared room. She wasn’t dumb, much to your chagrin, and quickly took note of how flustered you look. Then her eyes drifted down to the poorly concealed poster and you could practically see the lightbulb come on over her head.

Her lips curled into a grin, “What’cha got there, (y/n)?” The way she stalked towards you was downright predatory, making you feel like a mouse being cornered by a house cat.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, just a piece of paper!”

“Just a piece of paper? I don’t know about that, it looks like a bounty poster to me,” her smile looked downright malicious as she circled you, trying to get close enough to take it from you. “I wonder why you would be keeping a bounty poster to yourself like this?” Nami definitely already knew the answer, but she wanted you to say it.

“No reason! I just- Um- I don’t even know how this got here! It must have slipped into my pocket while we were out! Yeah!” You internally cringed at how bad that lie was. Even Luffy was a better liar than this.

Nami cackled at your attempt, “Oh really, that’s the story you’re going with? Come on, just be honest with me. We’re both girls here, you can tell me about your crush!”

You whip your head around to glare at her, “I don’t have a crush!” You absolutely did. 

With a speed you didn’t think she possessed, she leapt forward and snatched away the paper. You tried to get it back, but she held it out of reach and used her free hand to push you away, “Yes you do~! I can’t believe you would keep this from me, we’re friends! We’re supposed to talk about things like this.”

Nami danced out of your way, and you swear it felt like the world was in slow motion as she finally pulled the poster down to be able to look at it. Immediately, the mischievous glint in her eyes went cold and her smile dropped. The once coy and amused expression morphed into one of pure horror as she looked between you and the poster in rapid succession.

“No,” was all she said as she shook her head in disbelief, “you can’t be serious.”

“How about you give me that, and we can forget all about this. Please?” You wanted to crawl into a hole and never be seen again. This was the one thing you didn’t want to happen, and her reaction is precisely why.

You can assume she didn’t like your response based on her soured expression and the way her hands crumpled the paper in her tight grip. Without another word, she ran out of the room. 

With. The. Poster.

That was how you got to where you are now. Forced to sit at a table with three of your crewmates sitting with you. Nami, Luffy, and Zoro specifically.

“Guys please this is so dramatic!”

“It’s not! This is a serious matter, one we can’t let slide!” Nami slammed her fists onto the table that you were all seated at. Why were you all gathered here? For an intervention regarding your taste in men. 

It was bad enough that she knew, but why did she have to drag your other crew members into this? You can’t say you understand her choices either. Luffy was hardly the type to weigh in on someone’s love affairs, and Zoro wasn’t even awake. 

“Why are we all here? Are we gonna play a game or something?” Luffy was drumming his fingers on the table impatiently.

Nami slams the partially crumpled wanted poster on the table, “This is why we’re here!”

Your face was buried in your hands and you let out an over the top groan from the sheer embarrassment of the situation. 

“Buggy? What about him?” Luffy perks up, “Oh! Are we gonna go kick his ass again?!”

“No. Well, yes but not yet,” Nami explained. “(Y/N), would you care to explain what you were doing with this poster?”

“Nope, sure wouldn’t,” you didn’t bother taking your hands away from your face. 

“You and me both know why you have this, so how about you just tell the truth so we can fix this,” Nami sounded like a mother scolding her child.

Luffy was looking back and forth between you two, trying to put together what was going on. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, “Are you planning to fight him? Oh, I know! You’re trying to be a bounty hunter!” He looked to Nami expectantly, hoping for confirmation that he was right.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sharp sigh, “No, Luffy, she isn’t trying to become a bounty hunter.”

Whatever, you’re just going to go ahead and rip the bandaid off, “I have a little crush on him, okay? There! Are you happy? Can I go now?”

“No! How can anyone be happy knowing that?!” Nami yelled. “Why him of all people?! He’s literally a clown!”

“... He makes me laugh.”

Luffy exploded into laughter, “What’s that got to do with it? I make you laugh all the time, more than he does I bet!”

You tried to get up and leave, but Nami’s hand latched onto your wrist like an iron shackle. With one yank, you fell back into the chair.

“Please just stop! Why are you even doing this? It doesn’t matter if I have a crush on him or anyone else for that matter, so can we please act like none of this ever happened?” You wanted to cry from the humiliation of being shamed by your friends over a little crush. 

Luffy shrugged and nodded along, “It is pretty funny, but I agree with (y/n). Why are you so mad about it, Nami?” Bless him. Even though he did laugh at you previously, at least he was attempting to deescalate the situation now.

“Because she is crushing on Buggy the Clown of all people!” 

“Why is that such an issue?! He’s cute!” You tried to defend yourself (and him).

“Eww! No he isn’t!” Nami full on shuddered at you calling him that, “What is wrong with you? At least fall for someone good looking!”

“Well maybe I care more about personality!”

“What are you talking about?! He’s an egotistical weirdo who has a temper tantrum if he so much as thinks someone said something about his nose!” Nami looked like she was ready to rip her hair out.

“He can be nice when he wants to be, and like I said before, I think he’s funny!”

“There’s a huge difference between someone actually being funny, and someone doing stupid stuff that happens to be funny,” she slapped a hand over her face and dragged it down exasperatedly.

She had a point, and you hated it. You huffed, “Yeah, well, I don’t care. He’s my type and that’s that.”

Nami gagged like the drama queen she was dedicated to being in this moment, “I almost want to set you up with someone else just to give you better taste, how is a clown your type?!” She ground her teeth in frustration, “Okay, new rule: you’re not allowed to leave the ship if Buggy is around.”

“Why is everyone yelling?” Zoro yawned and stretched, looking around the table with mild curiosity.

Nami slapped the back of his head, “I brought you here to help, not to sleep! (Y/N) is crushing on Buggy and we’re trying to stop her.”

“Oh,” Zoro didn’t look all that concerned. “So are we gonna kill him or something?”

“NO!” You shrieked at him. What is wrong with these people?!

“That would take care of the problem,” Nami hummed thoughtfully. “We can’t risk letting this become something more, what if she tried to leave to be with him?”

Luffy laughed at that, “It’s not like I’ll let that happen!”

“What do you mean you won’t let that happen?” That honestly threw you off a bit. What was that supposed to mean?

“It means that I won’t let him take you away from us!” Luffy flashed you his usual blinding smile, but there was something slightly… off about it. It felt a little too wide, and weirdly tense.

“Take me away? No one is trying to ‘take me away’. Besides, if I wanted to leave to be with someone, then I’m allowed to do that,” you were distinctly not a fan of how he was talking about you as if you were a piece of treasure being fought over.

The entire atmosphere of the room changed the second you finished speaking. All eyes were on you, “See! This is what I was talking about! If she gets a crush on someone, she’s going to want to leave!” Nami’s hand found its way to your wrist again, you were sure you’d have a bruise from how tight her grip was.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s all calm down! I didn’t mean I was going to leave just like that! I like it here, really!” You tried to placate your crewmates, but your pleas did nothing to sooth them. It was too late to backpedal now.

“We’ll have to get rid of him next time we see him,” Luffy nodded resolutely.

Zoro shrugged, “Should be easy enough.”

You should have never taken that poster. Now you’ve unintentionally put out a hit on Buggy, and have no idea how to stop it.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 41: Follow Me Into the Next Life

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian and Kate are on an adventurous camping trip in the Scottish Highlands. Their goal is to explore the mysterious Blackfold Castle. Protective wards, set by a queen who took her own life, have kept curious treasure-hunters away for centuries. When the couple first arrives, Sebastian attempts to break the wards with no success. However, Kate is able to stroll past the barrier with no issue and somehow is able to bring Sebastian with her. As they approach, Kate's emotions suddenly transform to ones of fear, grief, and deep sorrow. Soon, it seems that the castle itself is pulling them inside.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x Kate Mayflower (my OC)

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+ - minors should not read or interact with this story. This chapter really doesn't have content warnings, but there are some sad moments related to heartbreak.

Artwork: The illustrated pictures of Kate and Sebastian were commissioned from @giselsann-opencommissions.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 41: Follow Me Into the Next Life

When the doors shut behind them, candles suddenly flicker to life, bringing the interior out of the darkness for the first time in over 500 years. Sebastian is surprised to find the air inside the castle fresh, as though someone had been here recently, though in his heart he knows that couldn’t be true. The castle has deemed them special enough to grant access, though he is not sure why.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asks gently.

Kate’s inner turmoil has disappeared - no longer terrified and overwhelmed with melancholia, she feels a sense of relief. Nodding, she replies in amazement, “I’m… completely fine now.”

Sebastian leads the way, moving cautiously inside the huge hall. It’s oddly empty, with plenty of open space. Plaid tapestries line the walls. Stained glass windows allow colored light into the hall. A wooden table lies in the center of the room and, behind it, a huge pensieve. On the table are a piece of parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink. Ornate candlesticks burn brightly on each side of the set of writing tools.

The eerie silence is only broken by their footsteps as they make their way to the table, which is clean, though it would stand to reason it should be quite dusty and dirty after many centuries.

Sebastian and Kate lean over, examining the only words written on the parchment: Ma tha an dithis agaibh an seo, bha sinn soirbheachail.

Kate glances at her boyfriend, furrowing her brow. She shakes her head. “I don’t know what that means…”

Sebastian appears bewildered. “It’s Scottish Gaelic.” He reads the words aloud fluently, then murmurs its translation. “If you are both here… we were successful.”

“You know the language?” Kate asks, surprised.

“Yes,” he replies, still looking unsettled by the message. “My father taught me Latin, Greek, and Scottish Gaelic. And then I studied some more languages on my own - I can understand Ancient Runes, Phoenician, Cyrillic, and Aramaic.”

Kate looks at him in wonder. “That’s incredible. I had no idea.” 

“‘If you are both here, we were successful,’” Sebastian repeats, his eyebrows knitting together. “I don’t understand.”

She examines the parchment once more, then the items on the table. “Why leave writing utensils and only that one sentence?”

He takes the quill, dipping it into the pot of ink. “That’s exactly the question. I have a hunch. I’m going to try something.” He scribbles two words on the paper and says them aloud in English. Feasgar math. “Good afternoon.” 

Kate gasps as their first exchanged messages disappear, replaced by another. Sebastian narrates and translates. “Tha mi air feitheamh cho fada gus an ruig thu. I have waited so long for you to arrive.”

Who are you? Sebastian queries in Scottish Gaelic.

I am you, the parchment answers cryptically.

Kate and Sebastian glance confusedly at each other.

What is your name?

Eilionoir. And yours?

“Queen Eilionoir of Blackfold Castle,” Kate murmurs. “How…? How is she doing this? It’s impossible. She’s dead…”

“Should we give our names?” Sebastian asks.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “It could be the work of Dark magic… What do you think?”

Sebastian begins scribbling again. What shall you do with our names?

I shall do nothing. I am merely curious to know our names.

Our names?

Yes. Our names. Please. And pray tell, what is the year?

1899. Sebastian glances at Kate, who nods in approval. We are Sebastian Renatus Sallow and Kate Camellia Mayflower.

I see. Much time has passed. I wonder why it took so many centuries. I have never heard such names.

What do you mean by “it?”

You shall understand soon.

Sebastian grows bolder, tired of playing games. Why did you draw Kate into this place? Do you seek to harm us?

It has been so long. I did not wish to risk losing you both. I waited for you specifically. I promise that neither of you shall not be harmed. I want you to understand. Please take note. Should you heed my instructions, you shall be greatly rewarded. You shall leave this place with more knowledge and wealth than you can imagine.

Kate and Sebastian exchange glances, eyebrows raised.

We do not understand, but we await your directions.

If you are Neacal, you surely must know how to use a Pensieve, yes?

Sebastian shakes his head. Perhaps this charmed paper is not as effective or intelligent as he was beginning to believe. My name is Sebastian. I know how to use a Pensieve.

Marvelous. Sebastian, I have left memories for you and Kate to view. You likely enjoy exploring, yes?

Yes.

You shall explore this castle, where I once dwelled. In each room of the southern wing, I left bottled memories. Collect them. If you use them in order, you shall see the story of my life chronologically. Do not disturb any of the items in the rooms - only procure the memories. When your task is complete, I shall reveal more - and provide a reward.

Sebastian is not quite sure what to say, so he ends with: Thank you.

“I’ve never used a Pensieve…” Kate tells him hesitantly.

“It isn’t difficult,” Sebastian assures her.

Kate grasps his hand tightly. “Sebastian, how is any of this possible?”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I’m not entirely certain. It would take powerful magic to link one’s conscious memory to an object, like a piece of parchment. Queen Eilionoir must have had a very important reason to do it - that would take serious determination and skill. I just… I don’t understand why she writes that she has waited for us, specifically. How could she know us?”

“I don’t know, either. But… I do not think we are in danger. Do you?” Kate asks.

“No, I don’t,” he replies. “We should see this through. I’m intrigued by the promise of this reward.”

They set off into the south wing, ready to explore.

An hour later, Kate finishes arranging the memory vials in the order in which they discovered them. 

“I wonder how long each of the memories will last,” Kate muses. “There are so many of them… We will likely be here until the evening.”

Sebastian leans over the Pensieve and gazes into the wispy, swirling basin. “Let’s not wait any longer, then. I am ready when you are.”

Kate nods. “So, what do I do?”

“Stand next to the Pensieve. I will retrieve a memory, open the bottle, and empty its contents. Then, both of us shall place our faces into the Pensieve,” he explains, walking to the table and selecting the first memory. “It will feel strange at first. You will feel like you are truly there, and you’ll see what this person experienced. You will not be able to interact with anything in the memory, but you will be able to move about and see a little beyond what the queen could see herself.” He uncaps the glass top of the memory bottle. “Does that make sense? Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” she affirms.

Sebastian lets the silvery memory trickle out of the bottle and into the Pensieve. He and Kate stare at each other, resolved. They place their faces into the basin, and their world fades away, replaced by Queen Eilionoir’s. 

At first, Kate feels as though she is falling, but she doesn’t even notice that she lands. 

They’re in a large, green field, bordered by a forest. In the distance is a tiny cottage with a pen for livestock.

A little girl runs by, chasing after a lamb. She has long, blonde, very curly hair, green eyes, and freckles - Kate notes that she almost looks like a cherub, despite her clothing - a dark brown dress with a tattered smock, along with a dark cloth wrapped around the top of her head. Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she’s panting, trying to keep up with the runaway animal. She cries out in a language Kate doesn’t understand. 

Sebastian, standing next to Kate, murmurs, “She’s telling the lamb to stop and wait. But it doesn’t look like it will. We’ll have to follow her.”

 He takes Kate’s hand, and they begin jogging towards the lamb and child. 

Up ahead, underneath a tree, there sits a small boy, about the same age, paging through a book. He has dark - almost black - hair and brown eyes, trained on a book. He appears to be talking to himself. His clothes are in much better shape. As the little girl approaches, the boy finally looks up. 

She continues shouting at the lamb as it furthers its lead. Finally, she trips somehow, falling down hard with an “Oomph!”

The young lad closes his book, stands, and pulls a wand out of his pocket, pointing it at the lamb. He murmurs something, moving the wand, and, as a result, the creature freezes in place. Then, he dashes over to the little girl, checking to see if she is alright. He helps her stand. 

“Merlin,” Sebastian marvels. “He couldn’t be much older than five. How could he do that at that age?”

The children converse with each other.

“She thanked him. Then, they exchanged names. Eilionoir Aitken and Neacal Brody. He has offered to help her to bring the lamb back to its pen,” Sebastian explains to Kate.

Little Neacal picks up the lamb with great effort, and the two begin walking back in the direction from which Eilionoir came.

The memory fades, and Kate and Sebastian find themselves back in their world as they remove their faces from the Pensieve.

Kate touches her face, surprised it isn’t wet. “Neacal… Isn’t that the name the parchment mentioned earlier?”

“Yes,” replies Sebastian. “Let’s view the next memory, if you’re ready.”

Eilionoir cannot be much more than a year older than in the previous memory. The scenery is a one-room home, a very rustic one. Eilionoir’s face is dirty; she is sitting up on a bed stuffed with three younger siblings, fast asleep. Her mother pulls a wooden chair close to the bed. Eilionoir clutches her stomach and appears to complain.

“She’s hungry,” Sebastian translates.

Eilionoir’s mother responds to her, taking a strand of blond curls in her hair.

Sebastian listens to the conversation, then tells Kate what transpired. He’s frowning. “Her mother told her that she should just go to sleep if she’s hungry, for there is no more food. She then taught Eilionoir that someday, she will save the family from poverty by marrying someone wealthy. She told her that it is a woman’s duty to marry and have children for her husband. It is the only thing women are made for, and she tells Eilionoir that she must be so pretty for a reason - that she is sure to attract someone of a higher status.”

Eilionoir smiles innocently, then asks another question. Then, the memory fades.

When Kate and Sebastian return to their world, he translates again. “Eilionoir asked if her husband will have food.”

Kate looks down, troubled by what they saw and heard. “Such poverty… and yet she ended up here, in Blackfold Castle.”

Many years pass throughout the memories inside the third bottle.

Most of the scenes take place after sunset, as it grows dark outside. Kate eventually deduces that they must only be able to meet at night, after the day’s work is complete.

Eilionoir meets Neacal at the same tree from the first memory. He holds his wand out, clearly utilizing Lumos. They laugh, running through a dark forest, side by side. They eventually come to a river, and Neacal finds a fallen tree that might lead them across, but it’s clearly not all that stable or safe. Eilionoir tries to hold him back, but Neacal climbs onto it without any hesitation. Stepping carefully and testing his weight, he makes it across the river. Then, he beckons for her to follow, and she does. The moment she is across, they run further and further into the woods.

The next memory finds Neacal seated at the tree, waiting for Eilionoir again. He reads a book using his illuminated wand. Eilionoir arrives and sits beside him. He recites the words to her. 

“A fairy tale?” Kate guesses.

Sebastian laughs, shaking his head. “Far from it.” He steps closer to the two of them, hovering close behind and examining the words on the page. “It’s a book that teaches about magical theory.” 

Kate furrows her brow. “They can’t be more than nine years old… Are you sure?”

He chuckles. “Yes, I’m certain. And look, they are both so interested…”

“At nine, I would have been reading tales of princesses and heroes,” Kate muses. “How strange.”

Sebastian smiles. “I would have, too, but I certainly would have read things like this, as well. My parents always encouraged studying serious texts along with enjoying fun stories.”

Kate gazes at Sebastian in amazement and admiration. 

The scene changes. Neacal leads Eilionoir to his home, where his parents provide her with a hot meal. Then, Neacal asks his father for something. He returns with three long boxes.

“Wands,” Kate guesses. “Perhaps his parents were wandmakers.”

Eilionoir tries out two of the wands with disastrous results, but the third produces a bright light the moment she touches it. She asks Neacal’s father if it costs money, and he shakes his head, gesturing that it belongs to her now. She beams.

Not much time passes, and Kate and Sebastian again see the two of them by “their” tree. 

Neacal takes Eilionoir’s left hand, and wraps a flower around her ring finger, whispering something in her ear. Eilionoir blushes intensely. He chastely kisses her cheek.

“He said he would marry her someday,” Sebastian murmurs with a smile, nudging Kate. “That he would take care of her.”

“All of this is so sweet.” Kate smiles.

More years go by. Most of the scenes are about Neacal reading to or teaching spells to Eilionoir, helping her to practice and hone her magic. They are thrilled with every success, hugging each other and dancing around.

Kate and Sebastian are sent back to their reality. 

“This is fascinating,” Kate says, “And I want to keep going, but perhaps we should take a break for luncheon.”

Sebastian chuckles. Without Kate, that never would have crossed his mind - he would normally have been too obsessed and enthralled to stop for even a moment, but now that she’s said it, his stomach growls. He agrees, and Kate quickly prepares a cheese and meat plate with fresh bread and grapes. It’s not much, but it will sustain them for a few more hours. 

When Sebastian tips the next silvery memory into the Pensieve, he and Kate dive right in, reinvigorated by their light lunch.

This memory isn’t happy at all.

Eilionoir’s mother lies dead in her bed, a midwife packing up tools. Her father is screaming at the midwife, as if she could have done something more. 

Eilionoir (likely twelve years old now) and her five younger siblings cower in bed, sobbing.

That night, Eilionoir sneaks out as soon as everyone is asleep. She dashes to Neacal’s house and taps at the small window she knows to be right above his bed. A few minutes later, he slips outside. The moment Eilionoir lays eyes on him, she bursts into tears. Neacal leads her to their tree, where she can actually let it all out. She sobs loudly, practically unable to breathe. Neacal holds her in an embrace, rubbing her back. 

This scene fades, and then one begins, with Eilionoir and her father. He is having a serious discussion with her. 

“He says that the family depends on Eilionoir more than ever, with her mother gone. She needs to look after her siblings and mind the house. He actually said to her, ‘Childhood is over,’” Sebastian explains. He listens to more of their conversation, then continues, “Her father is telling her that she is practically a woman now and that he will look for a match for her as soon as possible. Through marriage, Eilionoir could lift the family out of poverty.”

Kate scoffs. “A woman? She doesn’t even look like a teenager.”

Perhaps a year later, Eilionoir’s body has shifted closer to that of a young lady. At night, she and Neacal, who also looks older and more filled out, walk in the woods hand in hand, under the light of the moon. They reach the river where they once used to play as children. Neacal gestures for Eilinoir to sit on a fallen tree, and he settles in next to her, quite close. The stars are reflected in the water, and lacewing flies light up all around them. 

Neacal takes her face in his hands, leans in, and kisses Eilionoir softly. When they break apart, he begins to speak and continues for a long while. She smiles at him, and when he finishes, she presses her lips to his once more. Just like when they were children, Neacal wraps a flower around her left ring finger, whispering in her ear.

Sebastian clears his throat. “Neacal says he will marry her. He will provide for her and her family. He will properly speak to her father about a wedding as soon as he finishes his apprenticeship. He says they will always be happy, and he will always cherish her. They’ll be together every day and not have to sneak around at night anymore. He promises he will procure a real ring for her.”

Kate smiles, then frowns, realizing that she eventually becomes a queen - not Neacal’s wife. 

A couple more years pass. Eilionoir listens in as Neacal speaks to her father about a marriage. To her surprise, her father agrees but says that Neacal must prove that he can actually provide for Eilionoir and her family. Neacal shakes his hand, promising to do so. 

When Kate and Sebastian emerge from the Pensieve, Kate gestures for him to hurry up and pour in the contents of the next bottle.

A year has passed. Eilionoir is smiling, and her siblings are quite excited. There is to be a royal procession through the village. They beg Eilionoir to let them leave their chores for just an hour so that they may see it, and, after some hesitation, she agrees. 

They all stroll towards town, joining a large crowd lining the main road. They soon hear horns, signaling the arrival of the procession. 

There are musicians on horseback at the front of the procession. Then, there are knights and royal officials, riding on unicorns, no less. Eilionoir’s youngest sibling, no more than seven years old, jumps up and down excitedly, pointing at the rare creatures. Eilionoir grins at the joy this has brought them. Eventually, a carriage pulled by thestrals rolls past, slowly. There is a man, wearing a crown, inside, who waves at all of the villagers. His eyes meet Eilionoir’s and do not leave until the carriage has long passed. The procession continues on, and at the end, there is a performer who uses fire magic to entertain.

When it is over, Eilionoir pushes her siblings to return home. The younger ones skip and sing all the way back. 

When Eilionoir opens the door, there is an older man - someone who appears noble - speaking to her father. Eilionoir is taken aback and quickly pulls her siblings back around the house to their livestock pen to get back to their work.

Tiptoeing back around the house, she tries to not arouse suspicion, as she clearly plans to listen in to the conversation, but the nobleman exits, sees her, and slightly bows. Eilionoir appears confused but curtsies. She enters the house to find her father smiling and laughing. He asks her to sit down, unable to speak at first because he is practically cackling with happiness. Then, he begins sharing some news with her. Eilionoir, at first, grins but then turns pale.

Sebastian’s face falls as he listens in. “Her father says that their life of poverty is over. Eilionoir is to be married to the prince of Blackfold Castle, Luthais. He saw her, thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and immediately requested for someone to speak to her father to arrange a marriage agreement. He does not care that her family is poor.”

Eilinoir begins to tear up. She calmly asks a question.

“Eilionoir asks how her father could do this, when she has already been promised to Neacal.”

Her father shakes his head and answers her as though she is being ridiculous.

“He says that their engagement was never official and that Neacal could never offer her what the prince could. Neacal could not lift her family from poverty. Neacal could not give Eilionoir’s father a hefty annual allowance and a title,” Sebastian explains somberly.

Eilinoir argues with him, then begins screaming and crying, to no avail.

In the next scene, Eilionoir tells Neacal the news. They both cry and hold each other, realizing there may be no way out of this situation as they go through potential options. Neacal promises that, despite their dour circumstances, he will still try to find a solution.

Then, the season changes from spring to summer. Eilionoir sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night, meeting with Neacal at their tree. They immediately begin kissing desperately. Tears spill from Eilionoir’s eyes. She whispers to him.

“I do not wish to leave you. I cannot live without you, Neacal,” Sebastian translates. 

Neacal presses his lips to her forehead, tearing up. “I love you, Eilionoir. I love you. I have always loved you, and I always will.”

“Please tell me you have found a way for us to be together,” Eilionoir begs. 

Neacal looks down, his forehead touching hers. “I did everything I could. There is no solution. Not in this life.”

She is wracked with sobs. They hold each other close, moving to finally sit down. 

“Eilionoir, though I cannot make you my wife, I may have devised a way for us to be together. Not in this life, but the next. Do you trust me?” Neacal asks.

She nods, brushing away tears. “With all my heart. I trust you with my life.”

Neacal reaches into a pocket in his cloak. He gets on one knee and holds out a golden ring with a moonstone. “Will you follow me into the next life?”

Eilionoir appears confused. 

“I want you to have this ring to remember me by. However, it’s also an assurance we shall find each other someday. I have never studied so much or gone to such lengths in my life. I traveled to meet with an elder to ensure my work was not in vain. I have finally done it, Eilionoir. I have actually created a spell.” From his cloak pocket, he retrieves and unfolds a piece of parchment. “It’s… it’s a spell for reincarnation.” He gives her a serious, earnest look, searching her face for approval.

“Reincarnation? I never believed it possible,” Eilionoir replies, mystified, gazing at him. “But if you say it is possible, then I know it is possible.” 

“It will work. I know it will work.” His tone is determined, sure. 

Eilionoir kisses his hand, and then he slides the ring onto her finger - a perfect fit. 

“We’ll have another chance,” he murmurs, placing a green ring with a moonstone onto his left ring finger. Then, he shows her the parchment. “We must cast this together under the full moon while wearing the rings. Our souls will unite in the next life.”

Eilionoir scans the parchment, then gazes upon Neacal with genuine hope in her eyes.

The two, in unison, look up at the night sky, where a full moon watches over them. Neacal takes his lover’s hand and helps her to stand.

“We must use both of our wands at once, with both of our hands, and create a circle around us to bind us,” Neacal instructs. “Then, we shall recite the enchantment.”

Both of them take out their wands. Neacal places his in Eilionoir’s hand and then his hand joins hers. They turn in a circle, which somehow materializes around them in a wispy white. The moonstones on their rings light up. 

“I want to see this spell,” Sebastian insists, strolling right behind them and peeking over their shoulders. As it is a Pensieve memory, Eilionoir and Neacal have no reaction to his close hovering. He reads, “‘Geas a cheangal anaman gu bràth’ - ‘A spell to join souls forever.’” 

Eilionoir and Neacal begin to recite the spell - it sounds more like a prayer than anything, Kate thinks. “Gràdh mo bheatha, bheir sinn aghaidh air b��s gun eagal. Tha sinn gu bhith a’ coinneachadh a-rithist fon ghealach làn san ath bheatha. Chan urrainn ar n-anaman a bhith air an dealachadh gu bràth. Tha sinn gu h-iriosal a' guidhe air na diathan sinn a bhi air ar ceangal aon uair eile.”

Sebastian translates as quickly as he can, while they speak. “Love of my life, we shall face death without fear. We are destined to meet again under the full moon in the next life. Our souls can never be parted. We beg the gods humbly for us to be joined once more.”

The circle drawn with their wands lights up brightly, sparkling. It constricts around them until it disappears in a burst. Little stars, like glitter, fall all around them. 

“It worked,” Neacal whispers. He turns to face Eilionoir. “It truly did work…”

“I love you,” Eilionoir murmurs, pressing her lips to his. Their kiss quickly becomes desperate, passionate, hungry. 

The two fall to their knees, clinging to each other, their hands everywhere, as they kiss.

“Neacal,” Eilionoir pants out. “I will only ever love you. We are truly married now in my heart. Please…” She trails off, unable to finish the words.

“Eilionoir,” Neacal chokes out, his hands in her hair.

“I will not save my innocence for a man I do not love,” she finally breathes out, looking deeply into his eyes. “Please, Neacal… Make love to me… You are my true husband…”

Neacal gazes upon her for a long moment, and then they begin kissing again. Neacal gently lays Eilionoir down, maneuvering himself over her. 

The memory fades.

When Sebastian and Kate find themselves back in their reality, they are completely silent for a full minute, both of their minds spinning.

[saitama-division]

It was evening time in Saitama as the day of a certain model's birthday was slowly coming to an end. Still, there were a few hours left in the day, so it wasn't over just yet. That meant that the time of gift-giving was still on. After all, what was a birthday without gifts? It was for that reason, as she walked down the hallway with a nice buzz after enjoying some drinks and fun at her favorite nightclub, Afterlife, the famous supermodel, Lola, looked as there were a number of gifts outside of the entrance to her penthouse apartment.

Sobering up instantly (a talent she had perfected with ease), she dragged each of the gifts inside her apartment. Laying them all out on the counter in her kitchen, the model picked up the smallest one first. Opening it up, she pulled out what was inside.

It was a small music box with a figurine inside. Upon opening it, a nice, little tune began playing out that lasted for about 30 seconds before it finished. Upon doing so, a hidden compartment opened up in the box, making the model open her eyes wide as she reached inside, pulling out a rolled-up letter, which read:

"Dear Lola,

Surprise! I hope you've enjoyed the melody and the craftsmanship of your new treasure. Now that you've uncovered the hidden compartment, you've found my little note.

Isn't it amusing how even the most unexpected places can hold the most intriguing secrets? Just like this music box, life is full of surprises, and I must say, I quite enjoy being part of yours.

So, as you celebrate another year of fabulousness, remember that the game is always afoot. And who knows what other mysteries you'll unravel in the year to come?

Here's to a future filled with luxury, charm, and maybe a dash of the unexpected—just to keep things interesting.

Sincerely,

Hoàng Diêu"

Frowning upon discovering just who sent this music box to her, the gift became a lot less appealing to Lola, who pushed the music box away from her, nearly making it fall off the counter. Crumpling up the note that the Triad woman sent to her, the model frowned as she took a gander at her new penthouse, which had to be repaired after the fiasco from several weeks ago.

Refusing to give that woman a second that, she turned to her second gift, hoping it would put her in a better mood. This one was far bigger than the last one and was shaped in a rectangular shape, almost like a painting. Peeling the wrapping paper off, Lola's eyes grew wide at was inside.

It... it was a painting of two figures that resembled Greek figures who looked strangely familiar. Looking at the back of the picture frame, a note was attached, which read:

"Dear Lola,

Hey babe! Time's just flying by, isn't it? Feels like just yesterday we were throwing weights around and now, boom, another birthday! I gotta say, I'm pretty stoked we crossed paths. Life's been a wild ride since then, and I wouldn't change a thing.

I was struggling to come up with a good gift for you, but I recalled you really liked the Heracles movie we watched last year, so I decided to hire a painter to make this. It's of Heracles and Hebe, the Goddess of Youth! But it's meant to resemble us cause we've got strength and beauty in spades, babe.

Hope you love it, and see you next weekend when we can get together again. I'm looking forward to it!

Sincerely,

Karada"

Lola smirked as she thought about her former boyfriend. Though the two of them weren't together in the romantic sense, they still were good friends who got together and partook of each other's bodies when they weren't busy. Truthfully, it was better this way. They still had fun without all the ickiness and seriousness of being in a relationship. Promising to treat him extra well for this, the model put the painting off to the side, promising to hang it up later.

She then turned to her last present, the one she had been waiting for, as she knew exactly what was inside. Ripping the paper off and opening the box, she peered inside and her eyes grew wide at what was inside:

"Yes!"

As she stared at the birthday cake that she hastily pulled out and looked at, the model felt a slight bit of regret that she was going to ruin such a beautiful masterpiece. But she quickly got over it. Looking inside, she saw that there was a letter written by the one and the only, Luis, which read:

"Happy Birthday, Lola.

May your day be filled with the simple pleasures that make life sweet.

Sincerely,

Luis Kōkyū"

Lola looked at the assortment of gifts that were given to her, she narrowed her eyes at the one Dieu had given her, sweet as it may be, the simple fact that it was from someone she could never forgive for what she had done filled the Model with disgust and anger. She had half a mind to throw it out, it wouldn't be that cruel considering it was Dieu who sent it, nothing was ever simple with that woman and she'd rather not take the risk of waking up to see her penthouse destroyed yet again.

Moving on from that, Lola sighed and shook her head with a small smile, leave to Karada for going above and beyond for her despite them no longer being a couple. The painting was definitely...something and very much like the Bodybuilder to incorporate Greek Mythology into his gifts.

Finally, moving on to the real star of the showcase, Lola licked her lips and grinned at the sight of the delicious cake Luis gifted to her, just sitting there all pretty and waiting to be devoured. However, Lola held herself back from taking a chunk out of it, the cake was big enough to feed more than one person and the blonde knew a couple of hungry ladies that she would love to share this with.

As if on cue, the sound of her doorbell rang throughout her penthouse and Lola smirked to herself, it was time for the party to really begin.

Thank you for the gift!

[aenbyveryverygayperson]

Let’s have a serious talk-

About Sabo being a “Yandere” (as some people put it) or a brocon etc.

Let’s talk about canon Sabo, not the one I usually write for Aus. But just canon Sabo.

Now, Sabo has every right to be protective, Luffy’s the youngest yada yada.

But also because Luffy’s been through enough shit as it is.

Let’s go through all this shall we?

Let’s see, Luffy’s been alone for Nika knows how long in the beginning, 7? 6? Years?

And his only friend was the Mayor, a barmaid and pirates that weren’t really there for that long.

But even that was taken away when Garp took him away from there when Luffy said he wanted to be a pirate and left him with BANDITS!

Now don’t get me wrong I like the Dadan family but Luffy never had friends his age (that stayed) until he met Ace.

Which reminder, is stubborn as a mule.

Luffy never cared who was related to Ace, hell he didn’t care who he was related to either!

Luffy chased Ace over and over because he didn’t want to be alone.

(Note: Either Garp doesn’t care about that or didn’t really realize it)

When Luffy finally found him and another kid, he just wanted to be friends and they tied him to the damn tree.

Now let’s get to the bluejam pirates, Luffy gets kidnapped by them and Ace automatically assumes that Luffy would eventually tell them because it’s either Life or treasure.

But Luffy never did and once Ace & Sabo realized that the two came in with pipes and everything and got Luffy back.

They realize he got extremely hurt, spiked gloves punching Luffy for hours and hours on end as a 7 year old would definitely traumatize you.

And Luffy reveals he would rather die than be alone, which is understandable he’s been alone for most of his life if you think about it.

Then finally they become brothers via drinking sake together.

Then the whole taking Sabo back thing happens and when Sabo’s ship gets blown up.

That definitely left some lasting marks.

Then he only had Ace, Skip to where he has his Nakama-

Some of his Nakama leave the crew and he has to take them back over and over, then after he gets spit up from his crew, eventually being alone. AGAIN.

Then he gets news that his older brother is getting executed and goes to save him only for it to be practically useless as Ace well you know.

Dies in Luffy’s arms protecting the thing he cherished the most in this world, his brother and thanking him for loving him.

Which very VERY much traumatizes him. Giving him multiple nightmares and getting PTSD & a scar of a reminder from it as a bonus.

Sabo finally remembers once he sees the news paper saying Ace died.

Back to Luffy though-

He has himself and his nakama train for 2 years.

After two years he finally gets see Sabo again finding out that Sabo’s alive which makes him more happy then anything.

Now that we’ve gotten through that, let’s talk about Sabo.

It’s because all of that Luffy’s been through that Sabo has every right to protect him not just because Luffy’s his younger brother. That is one of the reasons.

So in the end Canon Sabo is protective, yes but in the end he’s not a brocon or a “yandere” despite what many people seem to believe. Neither of Luffy’s brother in canon are brocons, just protective like any older brother would be, they know Luffy is not alone anymore, he has people to protect him if he’s down, and he’d do the same for them.

Luffy can handle himself and Sabo understands that but if Luffy truly needed his help he’d be there.

(So would Dragon but not my point).

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Canon is different from Aus. I just like making them protective like that because it reminds me of my own older brother.

[softquietsteadylove]

My request is quite suspense and it has 3 parts. Can you write about Thena settling and adjusting to Gil's house, just them together at peace. Them going to the market, Thena doing unusual things like eating raw fish that made Gil startled and also the market lady. I could also imagine him bringing her to a library and she loved it there.

Just them being happy and at peace together going through adventures (you can write more). But...end it with Gil having to ask Thena to stay for a while, and then Thena saw a man giving a paper to every person he had passed, he gave her a piece of that mysterious paper too, and left. She tried to understand what was written into it but all she understood is the word 'Treasure'. When Gil cameback, he just saw Thena examining a paper. He gently took it away from her hand despite the panic he's feeling, he crumpled and thrown it away. He held her to rush home. The paper has announcement in it with a reward, Kro is haunting the person that stole the treasure he caught. (He calls the mermaid he caught which happens to be Thena as 'treasure').

Thena eyed the fresh fish laid out for sale. She had been tempted to take a bite of one earlier but Gil had quickly snatched it away from her before she could. She knew that humans would sometimes eat raw fish, but apparently that required more preparation.

He was jumpy about them being out of the house and on the mainland, but he needed supplies, and by his own reasoning, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to get her more used to humans.

She moved away from the fishmongering stall to another. Gil was talking with someone he had known for quite some time, and she didn't want to deny him the time to socialise. He was already cooped up on the island with her enough.

"Hello there, dear."

Thena smiled - remembering to keep her lips closed over her fangs - at the woman to her right. She had a stall of fruit, all vibrantly coloured and fragrant. "Hello."

"I haven't seen you here before," the older woman said gently from her seat of a few fish crates stacked up.

Thena looked back at Gil and clasped her hands together. "I'm...here with someone."

"Ah," the woman nodded her understanding, able to follow Thena's eyes back to Gil as if the line were drawn through the air. "There were rumours that Gil had found himself a lady. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Found a lady?" Thena asked, fidgeting with the shawl Gil had given her for 'sunburn', so he said. Why was skin averse to the very thing it needed to live?

"Oh, it's an expression, love," she waved off with a raspy chuckle. "I mean that Gil has never really seemed interested in finding a lady friend before. But I'm glad he's found someone nice for himself."

Ah, she was referring to mates. Humans had a plethora of names for a person who was some form of mate or another. There were varying degrees of matehood. She had heard the word 'girlfriend' applied multiple times, now. "Yes, I'm...a marine biologist. I work at a...remote outpost--usually. I know his sister."

"Oh, what a romantic story," the woman smiled, and Thena smiled again as well. "He is a handsome boy, isn't he?"

Thena wasn't entirely sure what handsome meant, but it seemed positive in this context, and if it was positive, then it applied to Gil. "Yes, I suppose he is."

"You feeling peckish, dear?" the woman finally stood, revealing her even shorter stature once she was on her feet. Thena peered over the stall containers down at her. "I saw you eyeing some of the other stalls."

"Oh," Thena mumbled out. That one in-between word could say quite a lot for humans. She examined the billowing white skirt of the dress she had worn (Gil had insisted she wear something Sersi had brought instead of one of his shirts).

"No, no, it's okay," the sweet little woman assured her. Despite her age and the slow way in which she moved, she was carving up a mango with frightening precision. "It makes you hungry, being here, right?"

"Right," Thena confirmed, watching with a certain amount of fascination as the woman worked. She had only really eaten what Gil made her, and she had never tried fruit before; she already knew she hated plenty of vegetables. But the way the woman was peeling and cutting the fruit so skilfully reminded her of watching Gil de-bone fish.

"Here," the sweet woman handed over the slices of mango in a bag. "A little snack for you."

"Um," Thena looked over at Gil. Things here required a trade, all exclusively done in little coins or paper--and he had them all.

"On the house," the woman laughed, even more so when Thena tilted her head a few times. "I mean it's free, dearie. Consider it a welcome gift to the market--and to get that handsome boyfriend of yours out of the house more often."

Thena blushed faintly; something about the woman's wink and her tone and the way she flicked her eyes over to Gil made Thena's chest feel funny. She nodded, "thank you."

"Thena!" Gil called out as he jogged over to them, his shining new toolbox fully stocked with all the specialty gear he would need for boats. "Sorry, I lost track of time. You find something?"

The woman waved her bony hand as Gil started clumsily fishing around in his pockets for change. "You stop it, I told her it was on me."

"A-Are you sure?"

"First timer's discount," the woman gave them a somewhat crooked thumbs up. Thena returned the gesture, having seen it on the box at home. The woman laughed. "Bring your girlfriend around more, Gil!"

Gil blushed much more brightly than Thena did. Well, his blood was a lot warmer than hers. He took her hand in his again, as he had been doing since getting to land, "y-yes, ma'am."

Thena waved to the new friend she had made before slurping back a slice of mango and swallowing it whole. "Hm!"

"Chew your food, Angelfish," Gil reminded her, once again anchored to her side and keeping a watch around them for anyone noticing a little too much about her.

"Gil, this is amazing," Thena beamed. "It goes down like a fish, but it's sweet, like candy!"

Gil chuckled; he had let her try just a few kinds of candy here and there, testing to see if she would even like it. Some she did, some she didn't, but he always remembered what she ended up liking. "Mango is pretty common around here. We can buy some to bring home."

Thena's eyes widened, and Gil nodded to assure her that he was serious. "She was right, I should get you out of the house more often."

"Maybe," he admitted, much to her delight.

"Really, Gil," Thena gave his hand a squeeze, her fingers meshed together with his like the loops of a net. "I think it's good for you to be here and not...what is it you say?"

He sighed, "cooped up?"

"That," Thena rested her head on his arm as they walked. "You seem quite happy here, and your friends have missed you."

"I don't have to come to the market all that often anyway," he argued, although Thena gave his arm a bop with her head (both of her hands otherwise occupied). "I guess you're right; it's nice to get out and see these guys."

Thena looked behind them at the woman getting further away. "I would like to come and visit her again."

Gil took advantage of her position and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "okay, Angelfish. We'll come back soon."

Thena sighed as she leaned against him again. The salty air of the water combined with the sun on her skin and Gil's warmth beside her made all the comforts of home. If she had her tail it would be wagging like a fool.

"Take one, take one!"

Thena tilted her head at the strange man walking through the market, making a ruckus. He was handing out paper to everyone he passed, including those who clearly didn't want it.

"Ma'am!"

Thena frowned at the paper shoved at her. She was going to let it fall, still holding onto her mango, but Gil picked it up, whisking it over to himself. She caught the word 'treasure' zooming by. "What does it say?"

"Hm," he grunted, balling it up and shoving it in his pocket, "just something about a treasure. Some nut job is looking for it."

"Oh," Thena said quietly, curious about Gil's resistance to even let her look at it. He didn't usually keep things from her, but he didn't seem very happy to be handed litter.

"We better get back," he said suddenly, stopping them dead in their tracks and starting to turn to walk them out of the market again. "Before the weather turns."

"O-Okay," Thena blinked, but followed as he more and more urgently started walking back the way they came. She didn't smell any changes in the wind off the water, though. Something had turned his mood on a dime, and it was that paper. Thena leaned over.

"Wh-Thena!" Gil attempted to stop her, but she reached around the back of him and snatched the paper out of his pocket.

She frowned at it; maybe she could see what had gotten him so panicked. It was a reward being offered for a lost 'treasure'; she hadn't quite mastered numbers yet, but it seemed to take up a lot of room, so it was probably of high value. And she recognised a few of the words in the description of such treasure, including 'pale' and 'blonde'. She looked at Gil.

"Come on, Thena," he tugged at her hand again, his worry all over his face, "please."

She tucked herself against him as they scurried out of the market. She was still holding the paper, "it's me, isn't it?"

"Must be." He sounded stressed.

Thena just barely managed to smile and wave at her new friend before they were almost at a jogging pace. She squeezed Gil's hand, "it'll be okay, Gil."

He sighed again, his face knotted up like bleached and broken coral, "will it?"

[disbarredgoose0]

There is a temptation by many who would consolidate their kingdom and their title claims to treat nomads and travelers with hostility. To travel the land with no mind to the imaginary lines charted only on the treaties and maps held at the heart of castles both grand and small is a dangerous thing indeed. It threatens the legitimacy of the king by making a mockery of their domain. For what is it really that makes this forest or that lake or that field one person's or another's? Paper. Paper with words written on it that only a few can actually read, signed by very important people whose names and titles fill paragraphs and whose family trees fill novels. Truly, is there any other way to determine the moral worth of a person than that? Well, my father disagreed with that assumption, as well as the assumption about nomads. He had the novel idea that, perhaps, a people whose lives were mobile might be a very valuable thing to a king and their kingdom indeed.

You see, kings take great pleasure in ignoring the lines and boundaries of other domains. Why wouldn't they, when their whole aim--aside from maintaining stability--is expansion? Indeed, the only reason a king hates the nomad is because they ignore the boarders of not just the other kingdoms, but theirs. And that, that is a great offense. But again, to the king, no boarder is real but their own--ever expanding--one.

So what if the king makes friends with the nomads? Allies, even. What happens when you treat the nomads so well that they start to visit your domain more often than others? When they leave your kingdom yet reliably, every other season or at least once a year, return to your lands with whatever treasures and bounties they found elsewhere, what then? Well, then the nomads might be quite valuable to a king. After all, the nomads are more than happy to share their treasures with their friends. Of course, they ask for something in return, but often they want things that are mobile or that help their groups stay that way. Rations, charcoal for fires and cleaning water, reinforced wagons for safer travel, etc. To even a small kingdom, what are these but trifles compared to the treasures nomads can find? And why would the nomads have any reason to keep heavy treasures that only slow down their travel between kingdoms?

Thus, father struck an accord with the nomads. However, it is at this point worth noting that the nomads in question were not human, per se. They were hardly particularly different from humans once the people of the kingdom got to know them, mind you. They had all the same wants and needs as any human would. Food, water, shelter, safety, family and friends, a place (or group) to call "home." Yes, if you squinted even slightly, the difference in form the nomads took blurred to such a point that you could hardly tell the difference between them and any human of the kingdom.

Well, perhaps aside from the dragons.

Their forms tended to be quite notable and distinct from that of humans, but the core truth of the statement remains: Not much separated humans from the goblin, orc, and--yes--dragon nomads of the land.

Thus, my father’s treaty with them. Or, well, “them” is a rather broad number of groups here. The nature of nomads is to travel in bands, tribes, or clans. Thus, it normally doesn’t really mean anything when you say you made a “treaty with nomads,” as typically all that you are saying is that you made a treaty with a group that just so happened to be nomads. At least, that would be true in any other circumstance.

In the case of my father, well. The statement would be quite literal. Now, it took quite a long time for him to do it--his whole life and reign, really--but that’s not really the point. The point is, he made a treaty with all of the nomadic bands, tribes, and clans that he could. All of them.

In order to fully “sell” the picture that I am currently attempting to paint, let me describe for you the kingdom--that is, the land and its boarders--I inherited from my father. It is small. Normally, that would not say much, but in the case of my and my father’s kingdom, the description is really quite apt. It is perhaps less a “kingdom” and more of a city. Or perhaps not even that. “Village” would suggest it was undeveloped and had perhaps only a few families living in it at best--neither of which was true. Calling it a “castle” or a “post” is likely the best descriptor, though that is slightly underselling it. Not quite a city, not quite a castle, and certainly not a village. It’s the sort of place that is not exactly surprising that it is its own kingdom, yet it is most assuredly an oddity to all that come across it.

To be as specific as I possibly can, it is a not-quite city sat on an island between two rivers. Except, of course, the two rivers aren’t actually two rivers. Rather, it is more like one river that just so happens to have a small, thin island in the middle of it. You would expect the river to be quite upset that an island had formed right in the middle of it, yet our river didn’t really seem to mind. It never flooded the not-quite city, though it had a penchant for flooding all the areas opposite the not-quite city when it rained even slightly. A consequence, perhaps, of the rather thin bands of river alongside the island that nonetheless held all the power of the great and mighty river that flowed into them.

Now, the occasional flooding helped with farming, and a number of farms lined the river just outside the limits of the not-quite city to take advantage. Technically, the farms were not under the control of my father’s kingdom, though the farmers were more than willing to trade what they had remaining after they sent off their dues to their actual king. This is the last feature of my father’s kingdom that is quite unique: Technically, it both does and does not exist.

The existence (and nonexistence) of my father’s kingdom is the result of a few rather interesting legal coincidences. As I said earlier, a kingdom only really exists on paper. The treaties and maps, then, are what define its bounds and ends. What happens, then, when a piece of land that exists in person doesn’t exist on paper? Simple. To a king, it simply doesn’t exist. That is the first reason my father’s kingdom existed: No one ever thought to draw the island in the middle of the river in any of the maps or treaties.

The second reason my father’s kingdom exists is because of what the river separates. You see, two of the largest kingdoms in all the lands straddle the river either side. The treaties between those two great powers are really quite stringent. In my father’s time they had been at war for hundreds of years and finally, after all that time, got sick of fighting each other. Thus, they made one final treaty that ended any and all land disputes. Now, a war did follow the first draft of the treaty, but that’s not important to the story. What’s important is the fact that both parties agreed to label the river as “neutral territory” by the final version of the treaty. That is to say, neither laid any claim to it. Both domains ended at the river bank, period. So the island in the middle of the river? Well, it’s free real estate. Or at least, it was. I should really restate that this is my kingdom we’re talking about. So it’s not really “free real estate,” given I--and my father before me--own it...but I digress.

The third and final reason my father’s kingdom exists is because no one really cared to bother him about it. You see, the island was once home to a post that served as a defensive position between the two great kingdoms during their decades of being at war. No one really remembers who built it, as it traded hands a number of times over the years. First it was the one kingdom’s, then the other’s, and so on and so forth until eventually no one owned it. The buildings built on the island were thus abandoned, serving as a fine home for my father and all those who wished to make a life outside the two powers surrounding the island.

Now, that’s enough of that. Back to the nomads.

The first nomad to visit my father’s kingdom was a dragon.

You expected it to be a group of goblins or orcs didn’t you? Well, no. The first was a dragon. You see, dragons live quite a long time. They can get quite old and can see quite a number of things in that life. And the one that visited my father’s kingdom? Well, she was very old and had seen much in her long life. Indeed, she was so old that she remembered who first owned the post on the island in the middle of the split river, though she never told my father who it was. She came to my father’s kingdom because it held within it something she had never seen before--something new. And that, that was something rare to her. Dragons are curious by nature, yet for those who are so old that they have experienced most everything in life, there is a tendency to get, well...bored. So my father’s kingdom was quite the exciting find. Something new! Something novel! Something grand!

Now, typically dragons are depicted as living rather sedentary lives, finding a lair to call their own and never really venturing very far. This, as I have come to learn, is a stereotype accurate only for a scant few dragons. When you live for such a long time and have the ability to fly anywhere in the world, why constrain yourself to just one place? Furthermore, when you have all the power in the world to defend yourself where ever you go, why not go as far and wide as you can? It’d be boring otherwise. Thus, most of them travel.

The old dragon, though? She quite liked the island in the river. She found its existence quite humorous, and she was getting oh so very old. It certainly helped that the people of my father’s kingdom were also quite interesting and funny. And so she stayed.

As one would expect, this seemed to have a remarkable effect on my father’s kingdom. Not only did the dragon bring with her a great hoard of wealth that came from gods-know where, she also brought with her a number of dragon visitors. Her presence there was like a beacon, all of the other dragons sought her out and were humored to find my father’s kingdom there waiting for them. “A perfectly good mountain is just a few miles away,” they’d say, “You look like you barely fit on this little islet.” Of course, the island was more than big enough for her. Indeed, it was quite comfortably able to house a dozen or so dragons in their true forms at once if needs be. Likely several dozen more should they take a more practical form given the island’s admitted constraints. No, the other dragons spoke more to the ego of all dragons than the actual physical form itself. A dragon should surely have a grandiose cavern as their home, as that was the only thing to match their inner image. Yet the old dragon was content, so in my father’s kingdom she remained.

The first orc caravan came not long after the first wave of visiting dragons left. So used to vitriol, hate, and aversion were they that my father’s kingdom--a small island that a dragon lived on--was, for them, the first hint of safe harbor they had come across in their travels. Greeting them, my father went to great lengths to ensure they were comfortable on the island. In the time they stayed in my father’s kingdom, my father had grown to be quite close to them. So fond of them had my father grown that, when it came time for the orcs to leave, he asked if they would like to stay instead. Though they declined my father’s offer kindly, they did still strike an accord with him. They agreed to return to my father’s kingdom and share with him what treasures they found. In exchange, he would keep their sick, elderly, and young until such time as the nomads returned. The roads were dangerous, after all, and not all of the nomads were built for travel. And so he did. Thus, the first treaty was forged.

As time passed, more caravans passed through, more treaties were made, and the dragon’s hoard--and the wealth of my father’s kingdom more generally--grew with each new bond established. This continued until, eventually, the two great kingdoms either side my father’s began to take notice.

Now, a question dear reader. What happens when you try to invade a tiny island filled with visiting dragons, travel-warn orcs, and fiercely protective goblins in between two torrential--if small--sections of an already great and power river?

Nothing good for the invading armies, that is certain.

Your small, otherwise unimpressive, kingdom is suddenly one of the strongest powers in the land. This is due to the sole reason that, unlike other rulers, you’re happy to work with the local orcs, goblins, dragons, and several other races that are usually attacked on sight.

[bigratsdeservebigpats]

Scavenger Hunt

Riddle x GN Reader/Yuu

I was possessed and had no choice but to write this or DIE

Also I made each of those fucking riddles by HAND AND IT WAS SO MUCH EFFORT FOR NO REASON

cw: none, just fluff :)

Treasure hunts, Riddle thought, were wastes of time. The idea of choosing to embark on a wild goose chase, for whatever reason, just didn’t click for him. Its supposed thrill never sat well with him, because who voluntarily gave themselves stress? If they found time to fool about, they certainly had time to do something more productive.

Yet on the rarest of occasions, today his schedule lay barren. It wasn’t as if it was the only box empty on the calendar, but his students seemed to be more than willing to take slices off his workload. Even Ace and Deuce, the troublemakers they were, forced bright grins, crisp uniforms buttoned and collars flat. Something was definitely up. 

Trey, as reliable as he was, could only smile placidly. Knowing the housewarden, the sudden shift in everyone’s attitude would only cause needless worry; yet Yuu insisted that ‘he’ll love it!’ This little surprise took days to plan, with them dipping in and out of the dorm’s halls to plan this one perfect day, and a small card along to go with it. He wasn’t so rude to open it, but even if he wasn’t one for theatrics, there were a few guesses on what was written. Waving the white and red envelope, he adjusted his eyeglasses. “Riddle, the Prefect left you a note, if you want to read it.”

“Oh, so this was their doing.” Even if the vice housewarden needed glasses, he could plainly see the way Riddle’s face softened, as if it was obvious now. Gloved digits plucked the letter delicately, admiring the rosy sticker decor that kept it sealed. Letters should always be sealed with hot wax and a stamp, then opened with a proper letter opener outwards from the body; but he’ll forgive their minor blunder, on account that Yuu didn’t own any wax or stamps. Perhaps he would gift them some, so such an oversight wouldn’t happen again. The letter itself was penned on thick stationery, velvet under his touch and adorned with the same glossy rose stickers. 

To my Rose Ruler, 

Good morning! I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. You must forgive my informality, I’ve never actually written a letter, so this is kind of embarrassing for me. I’m not sure what to write, and I pen down all the words that come to mind first, like how I wonder what you look like reading this. Are you confused? Perhaps even smiling? 

Just as they mentioned it, Riddle felt an unfamiliar tug in his cheeks. As if it was Yuu that stood before him instead of his vice housewarden, a fist obscured the pink in his face as he cleared his throat. Grey eyes continued to read their letter, quietly noting their astuteness. 

I have a feeling it’s the former, so I will fess up – If you can find me, that is. Below is a riddle for you, 

I hide amidst friends   Around twists and bends. Bring me my favorite Riddle, I wait for you in the middle.

 Yours Truly, 

Yuu :)

Ah, a puzzle, was it? The riddle was simple enough, cheeky even, just like something Yuu would write. ‘Around twists and bends’ and ‘I wait for you in the middle’ had to reference the maze. The Rose maze, of course. ‘Hiding amidst friends’ was obviously a play on the phrase ‘rose buds’. But the third line made his heart jump. Their ‘favorite Riddle’, could it really be… him? No, well yes! He couldn’t just overthink like this, but between the riddle on the paper and the Riddle holding the paper, he would obviously be the favorite! Or so he hopes. 

It would be smart to bring the letter just in case. 

When busy, he would find moments of peace between the pages of work, where his gaze fixes on a single sliver of blue sky. When he was younger, perhaps there was some compulsion to enjoy its beauty, but on the day he once longed for, he couldn’t spare a single glance. Because they were waiting for them, right where they said they would. 

“Hey there, Riddle darling.” Their grin infectious, accompanied by a wave of a hand so carefree. “Let me guess, you solved it in less than a second?”

“I… yes, but to your credit, you did stump me on a part.” Riddle cleared his throat, a habit that seemed to pop up just about every time Yuu was mentioned. “But I’m here, So if I may…”

“Yes yes, apologies for my assumptions, but you’ve looked especially stressed these past few weeks, and I wanted to give you a day of break, just a little fun or something.” Another wave of the hand, dismissal instead of greeting, yet with magic (or some directional illusions), a slip of paper appeared between their fingers, cardstock, was it? 

“Is this… a treasure hunt of sorts?” He raised a brow, eyes trained on their bright smile. 

“Well, treasure isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe it, to be honest. More like a Scavenger hunt, but here’s your next clue. Don’t solve this one in one second please-”

Quieter than ghosts, 

A building with the most stories it boasts.

Where knowledge flies higher than birds,

In a pile of words.

“The library.” This one was eons easier than the last, and the first was already pretty simple. All he needed was the first two lines to solve it, but seeing their expression, should he have at least pretended to think about it? 

Recognizing their plight, Yuu only shrugged. They didn’t look as distraught as Riddle worried, thank goodness. “Well, I must have made it too simple. Do you want to hold onto the card?” 

“I don’t think I will need it.” While he found the concept a little ridiculous, he would never just abandon their hard work. The card is situated in his pocket, right beside the magic pen, where all important things go. 

The library fell near the center of the school grounds, a bit of a walk to be honest, but he never minded it. Now it feels just too long, and far too quiet. Was he supposed to say something? Anything, really. As unbothered as Yuu looked, perhaps they found him boring? No, who would go out of their way to do all this for someone they found boring? “Prefect, I appreciate all that you’ve done, but you never had to go to these lengths.”

They eyed him, and at first he worried that he hurt their feelings. No one wanted to be told that their work was a waste! He should know this, beyond anyone else! Yet an angel of kindness they were, smiling at him like he was the silliest person in the world. “Oh you, I never had to, but you make me want to do all these things and more, Riddle.”

Ah. Well doesn’t he feel tweedledee and tweedledumb. A hand moved to cover his mouth again, cloaking the red of his cheeks under the guise of clearing his throat. They must think he’s getting sick with how often he does that. He looks over at them again, feeling like his heart was in full bloom by just how sincere they looked. Best to not tell him just how red his ears are. 

The library included several rooms to house different sections, but only the west wing had the floating books mentioned. Regal candlelight chandeliers lit the hall in a dim green, pillars of wood breaking away to the quiet abode of the history section. Yet nothing seemed different. Well, it shouldn’t if there was something he had to find, but he didn’t know what that was, it was a situation worse than finding a needle in a haystack. “This was the answer, wasn’t it?”

Yuu only shrugged, fingers running over the leather backings of old texts. A sly smile crossed their face, and he knew that oddly enough, he got bested. “You have the clue, there's no saying you can’t look twice.” 

Fishing the card from his pocket, once more grey eyes cross over the words. On closer inspection, certain letters were written over twice to stand out. L I G H T. Light? What could that have to do with anything? A quick glance at Yuu gave not a single hint, and he approached one of the small wall-mounted lanterns. Hesitantly, he held the card up to the flame, and he peeked once more, relieved to see their smile. 

Through the paper, two tones glowed. His heart burned a flame of pure exhilaration at the sight. Another rose emblem, carefully cut out and sandwiched between two pieces of paper so that it wasn’t noticeable unless… Red hair whipped to the side as he scanned the books floating in the air. This intoxicating delight, it felt as if it was smothering him in anticipation, bursting with an audible gasp as he finally found the one book emblazoned with the very same rose. He could hear his heart in his ears as he fumbled with his magic pen, desperate to get his prize.

“You’re breezing through these way too fast, Riddle.” Yuu finally spoke up, obviously delighted to see his excitement. “It’s a storybook about the Queen. You said you’ve read all the classics, and not a lot else, so I thought… I thought you might enjoy it.”

There was a hint of hesitance, he could recognize that same careful tone that his students would use. But he adored this little gift, his first storybook, given by the one that cared so dearly. “Yes, I… Thank you. I will be sure to treasure it.” 

Inside the first page, another paper slipped out. Much thinner so there were no more light tricks, but that was fine, he was having a ball. Even now he could still feel the endorphins blazing through his body. More? Really? Could his heart handle all this thrill? 

Three face four;  

Proud and tall, 

Look above all.

The one you’re under

Will it hold the next clue I wonder?

This one was far vaguer than the last. But certainly not impossible. Certainly not, once reread the first line. 

“The seven statues on Main Street?” Already beelining to the door, Yuu trailed behind, barely keeping up with the surprising speed of the dorm leader. “Is it by the statue of the queen?” 

“Well I can’t tell you, that ruins its purpose, doesn’t it?” 

Thank goodness it was just outside, even if the stretch felt longer than what could possibly be normal. The queen’s statue stood closest to him, carved stone echoing the same face present in all history books. Her chin tilted up towards the sky, bathed in the warm sun, yes, this had to be the answer. Just beside her stone figure, a small table cloaked under a red cloth with porcelain tea cups and where a slice of strawberry tart sat under a glass dome, along with the next clue. “Prefect? Is the tart for me…?”

They had to jog to stay with him, folded over to catch their breath from the unforeseen exercise. For someone with short legs, he sure was fast. Not that they would ever mention it aloud. “Well gee, I don’t think I would have made anyone else a tart, Riddle.”

“You made it?” Perhaps it was rude to sound so surprised; Trey bakes sweets all the time for Unbirthday parties and the sort, but this was different. Yuu wasn’t a patisserie, nor were they obligated to bake for him. “Yourself?”

“Yes, with lemongrass tea and two sugars to wash it down. Rule 393.”

It was actually rule 339, but he couldn’t even bother to tell them so, using his fork to cut off a corner of the crust and bring the slice of tart to his lips. That buttery and crumbly crust, the creamy filling that tasted just slightly too sweet, and a delicious fruit glaze, he almost wished all tarts tasted just a little too sweet. 

The last card sat pretty, pinned under a teacup and a cube of sugar. Lifting it from under the two, he brushed off a few sugar granules to read its contents. Thank goodness he wasn’t drinking his tea at the same moment.

I live behind your magic pen, some say I am made of gold.

I give you this, something you cannot hold. 

I wish this game would never end

But I think it’s time to say, I like you more than a friend.

Again and again, he read those four lines, as if the light was playing a silly trick on him. Each time he was sure that something would be different, but he knew the answer. Both answers. 

“It’s heart,” Riddle mumbled, clearing his throat louder than he ever had before. He couldn’t look Yuu in the eye, adamant that something within him might explode if he did. With how red his cheeks were, perhaps something already did. “And, I also, like you… More than I can admit.” 

“Yea, I know.”

[dourpeep]

IT WAS 2AM WHEN I SENT THAT SO I HELD BACK MY SIMPING FOR COLLEGE ALBEDO A LITTLE. tried not to send all my brainrot so I didn't just send a wall of text into your inbox LOL. Some others I thought of were:

- Mona giving astrology forecasts and compatibility readings in this au and Albedo may have asked her about the two of you

- Going to botanical gardens or museums with Albedo but for some reason it feels like a date even when it didn't intent to be. You tug on his sleeve now and then when you see something he might be interested in or even when it's something that excites you, and Albedo can't help but have a soft look in his eyes that he can share this moment with you! Somehow it results in the two of you holding hands - just so neither of you stray from each other of course - and eventually, intertwined fingers. You hear someone say that the two of you seem like a cute couple and you know Albedo heard it too, but neither of you say anything. You feel his hand squeeze yours a little tighter and respond in kind. The two of you are too embarrassed to look at each other but can't help the smiles on your faces.

- Lending Albedo some of your favourite books for pleasure reading and you've left tiny tabs on lines that you like. Perhaps this is before Albedo realizes his feelings so when he reads particularly romantic lines, he wonders if this is how he feels about you. Or did you mark these pages because you feel this way about someone? His stomach is in knots to the thought that you may be intrested in someone that isn't him and he settles for it just being prose.

WHAT YOU WROTE WAS SO CUTE AAA. THANK YOU FOR SIMPING FOR COLLEGE BEDO WITH ME!!

Tugging his hand and not letting go omg . . . you tend to just intertwine pinkies or play with his fingers absent-mindedly that Albedo becomes so accustomed to it so he starts to offer you his hands without a second thought.

WAIT. I gasped at Albedo being a cuddler. He's a little delirious when he first wakes up but you're so comfy that he hugs you a little tighter, asking if you've slept well. You try to reply while worrying about whether or not he can feel your heart thrumming in your chest.

What if Klee is staying with Albedo one night and the three of you fall asleep cuddled up together. Alice comes back early in the morning before any of you are awake and takes a picture. She sends it to Albedo later and he sets it as his phone's wallpaper.

Albedo staring at your lips winded me, thank you.

YES TO THE SWEATERS. I bet Albedo would have the softest and coziest sweaters too! Imagine it being a little cold out and you see Albedo across campus so you bound over to him and give him a hug. You nuzzle into him and mumble out a little 'hello' and say he's warm. You feel his laugh rumble through his chest while he greets you back, wrapping his arms around you

And I LOVE ALL YOUR HEADCANONS! I believe I found your blog around the time you posted Albedo's snort headcanon and it was too much for my heart!! I held tight to that headcanon and never let go lol. I also thought the science + college headcanons you had of him were really nice despite not being necessarily romantic!

Side note: I looked up that lobster fact and that's so cool!!

The Lobster Fact(tm) is my go-to ice breaker and it always fails. I'd imagine it's normally the same w/ Bedo OTL so sad...not many wish to know about potential lobster immortality.

I'm glad that you love the headcanons though!! I enjoy writing for Albedo so so much as you can tell ehe

That being said--if it makes you more comfy to send stuff in a few bursts of asks, I don't mind :DD I'll answer them as usual nodnod

OKIE DOKIE

-

"...Mona, yes?"

"Ah, I was expecting you to come around sooner or later, Kreideprinz."

Really, Albedo didn't mean to stumble upon the Astronomy major, but for some reason the thought of you has been on his mind and the campus' observatory just so happened to be on the way. With the meager hope that...maybe he'd find some sort of answer (in what, he wasn't really sure himself), there she was.

Luckily, she knew just what he was there for.

The moment that she twirls her hand with a wave, telling him that there isn't anything to worry about, the apprehension creeping within his chest at the thought of seeing you next-

disappeared.

It's not often that he turns to less orthodox methods, but he wouldn't lie. Knowing that--at least in Mona's opinion (which tended to be correct, anyway)--the two of you were undoubtly compatible? Something about how your constellations were intertwined...

In fact, Albedo turns a little theory around in his mind. Though based in old folktales, the idea that you gravitate towards those who are made of the very same stardust as yourself, suddenly made sense.

Or, perhaps he was just being hopeful.

-

Little does he know that you most definitely asked Mona about the same thing earlier that day.

-

AHHHHH BUT OF COURSE-

Any of those kinds of places--Botanical Gardens, Art Museums, Aquariums, Zoos, Museums in general--Any place where you're able to utterly lose yourself in your surroundings and look around in awe, really, are your go-to date outing destination!

Usually, it's just the two of you, maybe with Sucrose or Timaeus if it's for a particular class, as well as the occasional Klee in tow whenever Alice is busy with work.

But in this case, fingers interlocked, it's just the two of you on a impromptu trip to the art museum downtown after seeing a promotional banner about a new exhibit. Once inside, you rush along, Albedo trailing close behind with a light squeeze of your hand. The large area used for temporary exhibits isn't far from the entrance, so it's not long until you skid to a stop.

All along the walls are incredibly detailed oil paintings, the thin layered strokes glistening in the light. Albedo takes a moment to whisper to you about how oil paint works.

Due to the thinness of the paint and it's transparency, light passes through every carefully placed stroke, allowing for a unique sort of depth that isn't achievable with other painting media. You smile, the artificial light of the art exhibit making your features glow and Albedo can't help but wonder if you are like those paintings.

So complex, so carefully created in an image perfected with time. Your eyes search his and you say his name and Albedo clears his throat when he realizes he's been staring.

"Do you like this one?"

Ah, you must've assumed he took a liking to this particular painting.

His eyes shift back to it, taking in the sight of the balance of color, the composition, then back to you. He only stares a second longer before nodding.

Whether or not you realize the view he likes is you is something that he dwells on as you both make your way to the next painting.

-

If you had a penny for every time that someone comments on the way you compliment each other, you'd probably be able to pay off your tuition for next semester.

Okay, perhaps not, but the idea still stands.

You're only just at the end of the art exhibit when the security guard wishes the two of you a lovely date. Something about how young love is something to be treasured, something about how the two of you already seem so natural and comfortable in each other's presence.

Before you can mumble out an explanation, Albedo just squeezes your hand, gentle as always, and smiles.

It's a compliment, right? For someone to see how close you are, even if you really are just friends, is a good thing.

Ignoring the warmth that spreads over your cheeks, you smile and turn your head away shyly. Squeezing his hand back, the thought of what it'd be like if you were together crosses your mind.

-

Just as you lend books to him, he lends books to you. Surprisingly, this time it just so happens to be a poetry book--something that you expressed interest in a week ago but ended up not getting.

Within, he's left colorful notes with his neat, slanted writing.

Short discussions (presumably questions to himself) of what the poet must've been thinking, different possible scenarios, are peppered throughout the book. But one just so happens to catch your eye. Rather than a question, it's a statement. Simple, short, and...sweet.

'You carry the aura of the stars.'

The little yellow sticky note pasted beneath a love poem to the night sky stands out. Suppressing a flutter in your chest, you continue reading through the poem book with a few giggles at Albedo's musings until you find a note with most of the words crossed out.

It's entirely unlike him, the way that the dark ink scribbled over the words, making them illegible.

But at the bottom was a continued attempt--one you presume he was satisfied with by the way it lay pristine on the colorful paper.

'You look. I fail to speak.

Your mind, so brilliant as it is I wish to see behind To further appreciate the one I love.

I can only hope one day you shall let me in, So for now I wait patiently by your side.'

Who could he have written this for? You can't help but stare at the poetic attempt, knowing full well that Albedo seldom does something without meaning.

The book closes and you tuck it back on the shelf to ask about later.

-

AAAAA YESYESYESYES I LOVE THAT CUDDLE PILE W/ ALBEDO AND KLEE

Even though Albedo's a grade A student and certified genius (he's adamant in his denial, shaking his head and mumbling about how he just studies hard), he's not entirely a stickler for rules.

Well, that is, Aunt Alice's suggestion that Klee goes to bed by 9.

Instead, the three of you settle in the common room of Albedo's place in a bundle of pillows and blankets at the demands of a pillow fort.

The tv blinks on accompanied by the near silent click of the remote.

"What should we watch?"

Klee always ends up picking the movie. This time, she wants Alice in Wonderland, commenting on how the bunny is like her best friend Dodoco and the blonde girl on screen is named after mommy. Albedo doesn't bother correcting her, even though he knows quite well that dear, sweet Dodoco is a chinchilla.

Between sips of juice and a few mouthfuls of popcorn, the three of you fall asleep, Klee curled up besides you and Albedo's arm draped over you both.

Even when the sun is up in the sky, you sleep peacefully.

So, naturally, Aunt Alice has a spare key just in case something like this happens.

Immediately she's met with the sweetest view--her two kids (she's practically adopted Albedo as her own at this point) and--

Hiding a cheeky smile behind her hand, Alice can't help but sneak a little closer when she spies the way that you and Albedo somehow gravitated closer, his face buried in your hair and yours resting against his collar. Wedged between you with tousled hair, Klee snoozes peacefully.

She snaps a picture, followed by another, and another, and a fourth for good measures before meandering into the kitchen to prep something for breakfast.

Might as well let her three favorite people enjoy the comfort of sleep for a little longer...

You wake up the moment that Klee wiggles her way out of the blankets, nuzzling against the warmth radiating under your cheek.

Nice and cozy. Smells nice...wait.

Eyes fluttering open, you're met with a familiar birthmark and the nearly gone scent of Albedo's cologne.

You nearly pull away until the arm, now wrapped around your waist, pulls you closer accompanied by a satisfied sigh. Ah. You shut your eyes tight when you realize that Albedo's going to be asleep for at least another thirty minutes, resigning to your fate gladly.

Of course, Alice takes the opportunity to snap a few more pictures when you've finally fallen back asleep.

-

YES ALSO ALSO

Speaking of Albedo and sweaters and warm and also the just mentioned cologne. A little fun tidbit--not only are you familiar with the scent of his cologne because he wears it often, but it (in this au) is actually one that you picked out some time back. You probably were at the store together smelling some of the perfumes when you came across one that you were pleasantly surprised by.

Specifically, something that's lightly floral, a little warm but sweet with a hint of earthiness.

The pros? It fits Albedo perfectly! It also kinda sticks well and his place faintly smells of it.

The cons?? Well...you're embarrassed to say that hugging Albedo tends to drag on a little longer than anticipated because it's just such a comforting scent-

Not because you associate it with Albedo or anything-

Ehe

Man I really went to town again, didn't I?? Well, I'm glad that you enjoy my headcanons :DDD Albedo just seems like such a sweet person??? Like endearing in a way that just is...him. If that makes sense.

Brain go brrrrrr

I'll admit that my favorite headcanons for Bedo are mundane and domestic ones though! Like these! Just the little moments where there's nothing really going on except for him and you and ahhhh yesyesyes

Okay that's all-

[hmspogue]

Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that. 

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me. 

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused. 

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions? 

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught. 

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you. 

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike. 

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong. 

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what? 

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting. 

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏 

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time. 

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah. 

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident). 

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft. 

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug. 

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first. 

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.  

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me. 

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

If possible... Headcannons/fanfic from 2p Germany and 2p Russia, separately, taking interest in a friend from one country? Context: The country's friend is immortal, because of problems she went in her country's replacement at the meeting with the other countries. She has a very affectionate and outgoing personality, so she quickly picks up romantic interest from the attendees.

Sorry it took so long. Here it is!

2p Russia

A lone tall man walked through the basement halls of the United Nations building. His large, long blacked coat protected him from the chill of the A.C. and in his left hand was a simple black briefcase. His steps were quiet along the concrete, but his momentary silence would not last for much longer.

A set of steel doors sat closed and was located at the end of the hall. The sounds that lied within warned of chaos and death. Viktor blew a hard breath through his nose, as much as he wanted to leave, this meeting was important. It was the first time in a long time that all the 2ps were meeting and to avoid it could be costly.

Opening the door Viktor noticed that many nations were grouped together. The Nordics were in the back corner of the room talking about business. Germany and Italy were near their seats, both seemed to be scanning the crowd. Viktor guessed it was to see the missing member of their trio. Once Viktor found his seat, his eyes wandered around again.

This time his eye drifted over to the FACE family. Normally there were shouts and the clink of coins hitting glass, but today it was much quieter. As Viktor looked closer at the four, he realized something. Allen wasn’t there. Instead, there was a woman among them. She was (Y/H) and had (S/C) skin. The strange woman was leaning against the sitting blond Canadian. Both were talking and were smiling. Viktor did note that Matt seemed to have a small blush on his face. His observation was interrupted by a voice.

“All right-a everyone. Take your-a seats and shut-a up!”

Viktor grunted and looked over as the woman moved to take Allen’s seat. His eyebrow rose, this would take some investigating. But that would have to wait.

The meeting went almost as Viktor had expected. Various nations would present an issue, try to make it seem that their homes were thriving, and others would say their piece on an issue. During each part of this song and dance, some nation would then distract everyone. The main offender this time happened to be Macau. He had been going around attempting to piss of Italy so that he could win a bet.

Overall a normal meeting, but Viktor could not help but be distracted by the (E/C) beauty. She had been outgoing the entire meeting. Asking questions to the presenters, offering solutions, and overall being pleasant. It was cute, but there was one habit that stood out, pet names. Each person was given their own.

Despite the cuteness, Viktor was getting annoyed. It was not at the charming lady, but rather at his fellow nations. Their infatuation was apparent in the blushes and sudden smiles that came from their interactions with her. Viktor was not pleased with how others looked at her like a meal or a treasure. He also wasn’t pleased that he was feeling this way over a stranger, better yet a stranger attached to Allen.

With the end of the meeting came the desire for answers. Viktor rose quickly like a weasel looking for prey. He moved calmly and quickly over to the stranger. There he stood, in front of her but unnoticed, while she giggled and affectionately was playing around with England. Viktor felt his ire increase when she gave the killer baker a kiss. His blush made Viktor’s stomach twist in a painful way.

Before confronting her, Viktor looked over to the Canadian that seemed to be looking over at the pair jealously.

“Kaнaдa, who is this?”

“That’s (Y/N) (L/N). An old friend of Al’s, we’ve known her since childhood and since Al’s buried under work, he asked her to step in for him.”

Viktor just hummed in response. This woman was becoming more interesting. With two steps and a cough, Viktor stood in front of the playful pair.

Their attention turned to him quickly. The Brit did not look happy to be interrupted, while the woman smiled at him. Using his practiced grace Viktor reached out and took her hand. A gentle kiss was placed upon it.

“Hello, Ms. (L/N). I am the Russian Federation. Is there a chance you have a moment to discuss some things with me?”

(Y/N) covered her mouth and giggled. To Viktor, and many others it sounded like silver bells.

“Of course, I have some time before I have to get these notes to Al.”

Being the gentleman, he offered her his elbow. She responded with a bright smile and (Y/N) hooked her arm into his and followed the red eyed male out.

It was not long before they found a spot to sit and discuss. Their conversations soon left the topics of business and became more personal. Viktor was intrigued, despite the difference in the centuries she had lived, he couldn’t help but feel connected to her. To him her presence felt like a balm for his soul.

A beeping turned the chatting duo into silent statues. It was (Y/N)’s phone. She glanced quickly at it and grimaced.

“I’m sorry Viktor, I have got to get going. Al’s waiting for me and these papers.”

Of course. Allen just had to cut their time short. Standing alongside (Y/N), Viktor offered to give her a ride. Just something to give him more time to bask in her glow.

Being the true optimist, (Y/N) accepted with an enthusiastic yes!

The trip to his car and then to Al’s apartment felt too fast for Viktor. Before (Y/N) could leave the car. Viktor looked at (Y/N), he felt emotions that could not be explained easily, but he knew one thing. He needed to get to know (Y/N) better. So, he was going to take a chance.

“Would you care to go on a date with me? It is nothing serious, just a chance for us to get to know one another better.”

(Y/N) was not surprised. She just smiled and looked back at Viktor while getting out of the car.

“I would love to, but you need to realize one thing. I have noticed quite a few nations giving me the same goo-goo eyes that you have. So, be prepared for a fight for my heart.”

With a wink and giving Viktor a small sheet of paper, (Y/N) was gone. She had waltzed into Allen’s apartment building like a dream.

Looking down Viktor saw that the sheet was her phone number. Despite his cold heart, Viktor smirked to himself. He would figure out these feelings and if God willed it, he would secure her heart.

2p Germany

It was too loud and cold in this basement. The chaos had decided to get started before the meeting. Nations were yelling and weapons were flying. The A.C. was blowing like it was the reason for the next ice age. It was all annoying. All Luther wanted to do was sleep, maybe people watch, but that wouldn’t happen if these conditions continued.

With a deep groan Luther sat up straight and stretched. The sound of a satisfying pop alerted him that his stretching had relaxed muscles.

Luther glanced at the clock, and his head tilted to the left like a confused puppy. It was about ten minutes after the hour. That means the meeting should have started ten minutes ago, why hadn’t it started? He glanced around and understood one thing. Luciano, aka Italy, was not there.

Luther felt a little embarrassed he should have realized that earlier, but in his defense, the exhaustion and the beginnings of a headache ate at his awareness. Before he could wonder about the location of his missing Genosse, a (Y/H) woman ran over to the podium at the front of the room.

Her hair was wild, her face was flushed, gorgeous (E/C) looked around excitedly. She carried a smile as she reached forward and tapped on the microphone.

“Hello everyone, I apologize for being late. But I am (Y/N) (L/N) and I’m stepping in for Italy today. Sadly, he is out due to getting grounded and he has asked that I lead this meeting.”

Luther raised a brow and smirked. How cute. This pretty little vixen was now attempting to lead the meeting. The next few hours would be fun, well for him anyway.

For many nations the meeting was considered normal. Interruptions and fighting, before the more business-oriented nations took back control. This included the lovely (Y/N), but try as she may to keep the focus, many nations shattered her attempts like already cracked glass.

For one thing, Austria could not leave (Y/N) be. He was constantly interrupting presenting nations by breaking in rock ballads, mostly singing about (Y/N). While Norway was asking her whether or not she wanted to see a flaming heart, no one was quite sure what that mean. Since it was Norway, everyone knew that fire and pyros should not mix, except for (Y/N). Luckily Denmark stopped him by confiscating his lighter. Lastly, Luther joined in. He was dropping pickup lines and teasing (Y/N). Other nations did some stuff too, but it was not as entertaining as those three.

Throughout it all (Y/N) just giggled and responded with affection. In some cases, it was a compliment, other nations got gentle gestures. Those that received her affection either blushed or looked a little shocked.

Luther knew (Y/N) was gorgeous before, but her outgoing and sweet nature made her much more lovely. He thought he might be developing a crush, but Luther didn’t dwell to long on that thought. Mostly because everyone was getting up to leave and some of his rivals were closing in on (Y/N).

Without thinking it through, Luther quickly moved to take a spot by (Y/N)’s side. (Y/N) was surprised but didn’t seem to be against his presence. Luther gave a side smile and asked to walk her out. Somehow (Y/N)’s smile got even bigger, and she nodded.

Together they walked out of the cold, basement room. Luther gave dark glares at nearby nations while (Y/N) smiled and waved at the nations that walked by.

As they walked, Luther decided to get to know this little beauty more.

“So, how long have you known Luciano?”

“Since the third century, after all we grew up together in a way, though I am still way younger than him.”

This comment caused Luther to stop walking. Was she like them or some other thing that he didn’t know existed? Any way Luciano has some explaining to do later.

Luther watched as (Y/N) slowed, stopped and looked back at him. Her eyes seemed to be full of mischief and a cat-like smile rested on her face.

“Luther, if you don’t want to walk me to Luci’s I’m sure some other nation would be more than happy to take your place.”

Luther’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t expecting this sweet woman to be an observant and playful tease. It was hot.

“Liebling, why call someone else when I’m the only one you need.”

Both let out a chuckle as they stepped through the door that led into the stairwell. This seems to be the start of a classic love story.

[blackspoon99]

The Sign of Three Pt. 3

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Drinking, Language, Potential Emetophobia (If you’ve seen this episode, you know), Spoilers to Season 3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

“Of course, there’s hours of material here, but I’ve cut it down to the really good bits.”

Oh god, the stag night. You almost laughed just thinking about it. It was unbelievable that Sherlock was willingly telling this story to an audience. You were fortunate enough to witness some of the events of the night firsthand.

The story began the morning of in Baker Street, 11 am:

It was a Saturday morning, and you were over having tea with Sherlock. For the two of you, “having tea” consisted of you both reading in complete silence while you happened to be drinking tea. It was a common occurrence, and for you, it was a treasured tradition. You were curled up in John’s chair opposite Sherlock. Today, you were reading Emma by Jane Austen. You peeked over at Sherlock to see what he was reading. Sherlock was reading a book titled “Atlas of Forensic Pathology”. Riveting. The book looked so heavy; it would probably go straight through the floor if he dropped it.

You returned to your book. This was probably your third time reading the Jane Austen classic. You were inexplicably drawn to the plot, the message, the love story, all of it. You finally were at your favorite part. When Mr. Knightly said to Emma, “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” You looked at Sherlock over the pages of your book. You couldn’t help but consider the relevance of the quote in your own life.

When you first came to terms with the fact that you were in love with Sherlock, the feeling had burned through you. You couldn’t focus and constantly fought the urge to tell him. Possibly because of the several near-death experiences you'd had. After you made up with Sherlock at the engagement party, the feeling persisted but it was almost duller, easier to live with. You’d slowly regained security in Sherlock’s role in your life and you no longer constantly worried he’d leave again. You returned to your version of mundane and your unrequited feelings for Sherlock became the new normal. It had become more of a consistent ache than a burn.

Sherlock interrupted your thoughts: “Shouldn’t it be relatively easy to find a new book to read if you work in a bookstore?”

“True, but I like this one,” you said without looking up from your book.

“Why? What do you gain from reading a convoluted story of questionable morals that provides no useful information?”

You finally put your book down. “Because, I like to read for fun. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Sherlock smiled and scoffed at you then returned to his book.

You shook your head and downed the rest of your tea. “Okay, I’ve got to go to work.” You got up and took your mug to the kitchen. On your way back to gather your things, you noticed an open file on the kitchen table that looked like a John Watson scrapbook. You pulled the first paper off the stack to see a cutout of John’s head pasted onto the Vitruvian Man. “Sherlock?” you called over your shoulder, “What’s this file for?”

“What file?” He asked.

You picked up the file and carried it back to the living room. You returned to your seat and started thumbing through it.

“Oh. That’s for the stag night,” said Sherlock.

“Stag night? I didn’t think you would want to do that sort of thing”

“Why not?” He swiftly closed his book. If you didn’t know better, you’d take the action as a sign of offense.

“Uh, no reason,” you said hastily. The file was full of peer-reviewed studies on alcohol consumption, detailed chemistry notes, and copies of John’s medical records. The last page was a detailed schedule of where they were going and how much they were going to drink every hour. “This is awfully thorough.”

“I needed to ensure the maximum amount of enjoyment for the both of us for the duration of the night.”

“How considerate of you.” You put the file down and leaned forward. “So, what do you have planned?”

“John and I will be drinking at a pub on every street we ever found a corpse.”

“That is oddly perfect for the both of you.”

“I thought so,” Sherlock said with a grin.

You looked at the time. If you didn’t leave now, you’d be late. “Well, I’m off. See you later, Sherlock.”

“Yes, yes, goodbye,” he mumbled and returned to reading. You left the file on the table, gathered your belongings, and left for your shift. 

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

Later that evening:

You closed the bookshop at 8 pm and headed to the tube station. As you made your way through the crowded streets, you heard your phone ringing. You dug through your bag to find it as you walked. You saw Sherlock’s name on the caller ID and answered it. Your ears were immediately assaulted by electronic dance music.

You heard Sherlock’s voice first “Shut up John, I’m calling her.” He shouted over the music

“Who?” you then recognized John’s voice.

“Her John, I’m calling her!”

You struggled to hear the call over the booming music “Hello?? Sherlock? Why are you calling me?”

“Oh! It’s y/n! Hello!” John shouted into the phone. You winced at the volume.

“John? Where are you? Are you drunk?”

“Stag night! Sherlock tried to measure my piss. Then he got into a fight.”

“Give me that back” Sherlock’s voice “Y/n meet us back at Baker Street. It’s an ‘mergency”

“What did you say? Sherlock? It’s really hard to hear,”

“Baker Street. Now!” He shouted then hung up.

For a moment, you stood in the street, dumbfounded. It was only 8 pm and both Sherlock and John were piss drunk at some club. You couldn’t even begin to process the rest of the information. So much for Sherlock’s plan, although it did seem like they had “maximized their enjoyment”. You weren’t about to miss this.

——————————

You arrived at Baker Street by 8:30 pm. You opened the door to find Sherlock and John laying across the bottom of the stairs. “Hello boys, I’m here.” You announced.

At the sound of your voice, Sherlock and John scrambled to sit upright. Sherlock fell down a step in the process. You tried your best to suppress your laughter. “So, I’m here. What’s the emergency, Sherlock?”

“Right, you,” He said, raising his arm to point at you. “Upstairs.”

You watched Sherlock and John slowly stand up. John lifted one foot to climb the stairs, then stumbled backward.

“Do you need help, John?” You asked.

“Nah,” he said, “‘s alright, I’m fine. I can do it myself.”  

You slowly helped Sherlock and John up and into the flat. Sherlock tried to take off his coat, but his arms got stuck behind him. You giggled and gently pulled his coat off him and hung it on the coat rack. You lead Sherlock over to his chair and he flopped down into it.

You went into the kitchen to get some water for him and John. You figured they’d need it. You searched the cabinets, but there wasn’t a clean glass in sight. You resorted to the clean beakers on the countertops instead. You poured two 250mL beakers most of the way with water and walked them back into the living room. When you returned, Sherlock was sitting in his chair. He was drinking from a glass of scotch.

“Sherlock,” you groaned. “Where did you get that?” You attempted to reach for the glass, but he pulled his hand away, spilling it all over himself.

“It’s okay, this is fine,” he said, staring at his scotch-soaked shirt. “Oh,” he started. “I almost forgot,” Sherlock leaned over the side of his chair to grab something off the floor “You left this,” Sherlock said and handed you your copy of Emma. You hadn’t even realized it was gone.

“That was the emergency?”

“I still don’t understand how you could read this 3 times,” Sherlock slurred. “It’s so- what’s the word? Incorrect? ‘There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.’ What an absurd thing to say” He contorted his face into an expression of disgust and took a sip of scotch from the glass in his hand.

“You read it? Today?” The fact that Sherlock had gone out of his way to read your favorite book made you unnaturally happy. You knew not to read into the things with Sherlock, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself.

“You left it behind and I was so bored. Besides, I had to understand why you liked it so much. I still don’t know.”

You leaned over and snatched the glass of scotch from him. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, do you?” You handed him the beaker of water.

“Thank you,” he said with a goofy grin. In all the years you’d known Sherlock, you had never seen him like this. It was odd to say the least yet decidedly hilarious.

“Where’s John?”

Sherlock didn’t answer but pointed in the general direction of the bathroom. You decided to take the seat opposite Sherlock. As you sat down, Sherlock put his water on the floor. He then leaned forward and put his head in his hands, staring at you.

“What are you doing, Sherlock?” you asked.

“You,” he said, pointing at your face “are so hard to figure out sometimes, you know that?”

“Me?”

“It’s soooooo annoying. I can tell what almost everyone is thinking all the time, but not always you.”

“You think I’m hard to read?”

“Yes, you. Y/n L/n.” He waved his hands around while he slightly slurred his words.

“Okay then, how about this: I tell you what I’m thinking right now, and you do the same. Then, for one moment, we can understand each other completely.”

Sherlock furrowed his brow “You first.”

“I’m thinking… that I’m glad you called me.” Sherlock smiled and nodded. You giggled, “Now it’s your turn, and don’t lie to me. What are you thinking in this moment?”

Sherlock paused. “I’m thinking that my shirt’s all wet,” he said with a slight frown.

“That’s your own fault,” you said, putting one hand over your mouth to contain your laughter.

John re-entered the room holding post-it notes and a sharpie. “I’ve just had the best idea,” he said with a sloppy grin.

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

The three of you all had post-its stuck to your foreheads, each with names written down. John sat in the client’s seat with the name MADONNA scribbled on the piece of paper stuck to his forehead. Sherlock, much to your enjoyment, had SHERLOCK HOLMES sloppily written on his forehead. As per the game, you had no idea what was written on yours. Sherlock was lounging back in his chair, resting his head on his hand.

“Am I a vegetable?” asked John

“You? Or the thing?” Sherlock asked smiling. The two of them snickered.

“Funny!” said John.

Sherlock looked down and smiled. “Thank you,” he choked out.

“To answer your question, John, no,” you said.

“Your go, Sherlock,” said John.

“Erm…. am I human?” he asked, turning to you.

“Sometimes,” you said with a smirk.

“No, no, it can’t be sometimes, can’t have that…”

“Fine. Yes, you’re human” you confirmed. “My turn. Am I a man?”

“Yeeep” answered John. “Sherlock, you again,” John said, forgetting it was his turn.

“Am I a man?”

John nodded. Sherlock kept going. “Am I a tall man?”

John looked at you and started laughing before he even spoke “Mm, not as tall as people think.” John’s head flopped to the side as he let out a hiccup

“Nice?”

“Ishh,” John said skeptically.

“Clever?”

“I’d say so,” you interjected.

“Do people…” he made air quotes as he spoke the word ‘people’ “... like me?”

“Not really,” you said, chuckling “You tend to rub them the wrong way.” If you had to babysit your adult drunk friends, you might as well have some fun.

“Hm,” Sherlock nodded intently. “Am I the current King of England?”

You and John immediately burst into laughter. “Good guess, Sherlock. But you do know England doesn’t have a king?” 

“Don’t we?”

“No,” John said. “Y/n, you go now”

“Right, okay. Am I a friend of ours?”

“Ehh, yes?” Sherlock said.

“Yes, yes they are Sherlock,” said John “Jesus.”

“Well, that narrows it down significantly. Am I Greg?”

“Who’s Greg?” Sherlock asked.

You rolled your eyes and took the post-it off your forehead. The name “Gavin” was written on it in Sherlock’s handwriting. Of course.

“Hey!” Sherlock yelled, “Cheater, that’s cheating. John, did you see that? Y/n’s cheating.” Sherlock got up and took the post-it from your hand. He leaned forward and stuck it back on your forehead. “There. Now it’s John’s turn.”

“Am I a woman?” asked John. He slumped in his seat. Sherlock immediately started giggling. “What?” John asked.

“Yes,” confirmed Sherlock

“Am I a pretty woman?”

“Er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences, and role models.”

“But am I pretty?” John asked again.

“Yeah, Sherlock? Is John a pretty woman?”

“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who you’re supposed to be.”

“What?! You picked the name,” John said.

“Ah, but I picked it at random from the papers,” Sherlock said, flailing his arm over to the stack of newspapers in the corner.

“I don’t think you understand the point of this game, Sherlock,” you added.

“So, I am human, I’m not as tall as people think I am ... I’m-I’m nice-ish ... clever, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way.”

“That’s correct,” said John.

“I’m you, aren’t I?” Sherlock asked, pointing to John.

“Ooh-ooh!” Mrs. Hudson chirped as she knocked on the door. “Client!” Behind Mrs. Hudson was a woman wearing a nurse’s outfit with a cardigan over it. You scrambled to take the post-it off your forehead as you stood up.

“Hello, I’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time—”

Sherlock immediately stood up and interrupted you. “It’s not a bad time, no, no Y/n. We always help a person in need.”

“Do we?” you said with a forced smile and looked over at John for help. John just stared back blankly at you with a goofy drunken smile.

The woman beamed “Thank you,” she said. “Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?”

John imitated a slide whistle, and pointed to Sherlock’s post-it on his forehead. Sherlock flashed a wide toothy grin. You put your head in your hands in defeat.

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

A few moments later, you’d made the woman, Tessa, some tea, and you John and Sherlock were sitting on the couch. Sherlock was sat in between you and John. Tessa sat in a chair opposite the three of you.

“I don’t ... a lot ... I mean, I don’t ... date all that much ... and ... he seemed ... nice, you know?”

You looked over at Sherlock and John hoping they could keep it together. John was blinking slowly and heavily while trying to stay awake. Sherlock was listening to Tessa’s story intently.

She continued. “We seemed to automatically connect. We had one night – dinner, such interesting conversation. It was ... lovely. To be honest, I’d love to have gone further ...”

Beside you, Sherlock closed his eyes and began to lean into your shoulder, dozing off. You subtly elbowed him, and he straightened up abruptly.

“But I thought, no, this is special. Let’s take it slowly, exchange numbers. He said he’d get in touch and then ... Maybe he wasn’t quite as keen as I was ...”

You looked over at John who was practically asleep with his eyes open. He had a blank stare and his mouth hung slightly open.

“But I – I just thought ... at least he’d call to say that we were finished,” Tessa concluded, tearing up slightly and looking at the floor. Immediately, Sherlock’s face contorted into an expression of sympathy as he dramatically brought his hand to his mouth. You stared in disbelief and handed Tessa a tissue. “Thank you,” she said to you. “I went round there, to his flat. No trace of him. Mr. Holmes…”

Sherlock leaned forward and rested his head on his hands.

“I honestly think I had dinner ... with a ghost.”

You and Tessa waited to hear what Sherlock had to say. You leaned forward to look at Sherlock and John’s faces only to discover they had both fallen asleep.

“With a ghost, Mr. Holmes!” Tessa repeated, louder.

You sharply elbowed Sherlock in the ribs much harder than before, and he sprung awake. “Boring, boring, boring,” he mumbled, then turned to you and put his hands on either side of your head. “No! fascinating!” He exclaimed, his face right up close to yours. Sherlock then turned to John “John – John! Wake up!” John finally stirred awake.

“I’m up,” he mumbled.

“Apologies about my ... you know ... thing,” Sherlock said, pointing at John. “Rude. Rude!” he yelled straight into your ear. You grimaced at the loud noise and put your hand on Sherlock’s forearm to settle him.

“Yes, that’s enough, Sherlock,” you whispered. “Uhm, go on, Tessa.”

“I checked with the landlord, and the man who lived there died. Heart attack. And there we are, having dinner one week on.” She turned and began to rummage through her purse. She pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper and handed it to Sherlock. You grabbed it before he could take it. It was a print-out of an online chatroom. “And I found this thing online, sort of chatroom thing for girls who think they’re dating men from the spirit world.”

You nodded. This actually seemed like a decent case. Too bad Sherlock and John probably wouldn’t remember one word of it tomorrow. Sherlock tried to stand up next to you, wobbled, and then put one hand on the top of your head to steady himself. You groaned and struggled to untangle his hand from your hair.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find him in ten minutes,” Sherlock said confidently. Tessa smiled in relief. “What’s your dog’s name?”

You facepalmed and stood up next to Sherlock. He leaned over to wake up John. “John! Wake up! We’re meant to ... The game’s ... something” he said, waving his hand around.

“On!” yelled John.

“Yes, that,” Sherlock said, walking out the door. “Come on, Y/n.”

“Wait, Sherlock. Where are you going?” You protested, following him down the stairs.

“That’s a good question. Where are we going?” he asked Tessa in the foyer.

“Oh! Well, I suppose we ought to go to his flat,” Tessa said.

“Sherlock, no,” you said, “You can’t leave...” you looked off the the side awkwardly “…like this.” He ignored you and dragged John out to the sidewalk by his sweater sleeve. He stepped out into the street and hailed down a cab.

“40a, Jasmine Grove,” interjected Tessa as the cab pulled up.

“Are you coming Y/n?” Sherlock slurred.

“No!” you yelled. “And neither are you.” Before you could reach him, Sherlock climbed into the cab after John and Tessa and slammed the cab door in your face. The car drove off. 

“Come on, really?!” you yelled in frustration. Now you had to follow them. You ran to the edge of the sidewalk and decided to call a cab for yourself.

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

You finally made it to the apartment to see Tessa and a man you presumed to be the landlord standing by the door. It was a rather modern apartment with exposed brick and abstract furniture. John was standing in the corner with his hands crossed over his chest and his lips pursed. He was swaying slightly, trying to keep his balance. You pushed past the landlord to see Sherlock kneeling on a shag carpet holding his pocket magnifier. As soon as you walked in, he face-planted into the carpet and passed out.

“He’s clueing for looks” John announced, proudly.

“Oh god,” you said, scrambling over to Sherlock. You grabbed his upper arm and tried to pull him up. God, he was heavy. 

“That’s it, I’m calling the police.” The landlord pulled out his cell phone.

“No, no, please, that won’t be necessary,” you protested.

“This is a famous detective. It’s Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Hamish Watson,” Tessa clarified.

You finally managed to get Sherlock to straighten up. “When did you get here?” Sherlock asked, looking up at you. Then, he bent over and immediately threw up on the carpet.

“Ugh why?” you groaned and plugged your nose. Sherlock wiped his mouth on his sleeve and then clicked his magnifier shut.

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

The next morning…

The landlord had called the police and the night ended with you watching Sherlock and John being driven away in the back of a police car. You’d immediately called Greg hoping he’d let them go. Greg had said the best he could do was try and let them off with a warning if they spent the night in the drunk tank. When the station opened, Greg sent you a photo of Sherlock and John asleep in a cell with the caption “Come and get ‘em!”

You walked into Scotland Yard and Greg was there to meet you. “Thank you, Greg,” you said, handing him one of the 4 coffees you’d brought.

“God, what on earth happened to them?” Greg asked, taking a sip from the coffee you gave him.

“Stag night got a bit out of hand,” you said. “Afraid I lost control of the situation.”  

“You can say that again,” agreed Greg as the two of you walked through the station to the drunk tank.

“Rise and Shine!” Greg bellowed as he swung open the door. John was awake and sitting on the floor. He had his hands on his head while Sherlock was still fast asleep on the bench.

“Oh my god,” John said, grimacing in pain. “Is that Greg?”

“Get up,” he said “Y/n’s come to collect you. Managed to square things with the desk sergeant.” John painfully and slowly got up. “What a couple of lightweights! Y/n said you couldn’t even make it to closing time!”

“Yeah, could you whisper?” John asked.

“NOT REALLY!” Greg shouted straight into his ear. Across the cell, Sherlock jolted awake, mouth wide open in shock. He tried to stand up, then fell backward back onto the bench. You walked over and helped him up.

“There you go, Sherlock. Nice and easy,” you said quietly and handed him one of the coffees. He took it and stumbled out of the cell, head down. He looked like hell, not to mention the way he smelled. You caught up to John and handed him one of the remaining coffees, leaving the last for yourself. You took a sip of your coffee and continued down the hall. 

“Well, thanks for a ... you know ... an evening,” John said to Sherlock.

“Oh, it was awful,” Sherlock said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I was gonna pretend, but it was, truly,” said John. He then turned to you. “Y/n, I am so sorry, that was—”

“It’s okay, I had fun,” you said with a smile.

“At least someone did,” said Sherlock. “That woman, Tessa, dated a ghost. The most interesting case for months. What a wasted opportunity.”

“Really? That’s your takeaway from this?” you asked. He shrugged. “Come on, boys, let’s get you home.” 

A/N: Stag night! I love this part of the episode, so I hope I did it justice. Funny story. When I was writing this, I was trying to find real book titles for Sherlock to read and I came across a real book titled “Surrounded by Idiots” I wanted to use it in the story SO BAD but it was so perfect, that it sounded cheesy and made up lmao. I’m 100% certain Sherlock would have it in his bookcase though. 

Taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa @scorpios-echos @sad-bitch-h0ur @drifting-away-in-space @that-thing-in-the-graveyard 

[nicka-nell]

Say… Who do you belong to?

○ Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader, mention of Oikawa ○ Words: 7.675  ○ Genre: Mafia-AU, NSFW, Smut, 18+ ○ Warning: noncon! oral, force, gun play, slightly breath play, violence, slightly manipulation, daddy kink, blood, pain, rape, dark content, 18+, Minors DNI! ○ Note: All characters are grown up! This fic contains dark content! ○ This fic is part of a server collab. The masterlist can be found here 

Prompt: "I wonder what he'd do if he knew you were with me right now."

Summary: You are Oikawa’s most precious treasure. His beloved wife, whom he married a few years ago and with whom he had bought a wonderful house. But what you don’t know is that Oikawa has a lot of debts with a mafia boss, who suddenly pulls you out of your wonderful life and declares you as his victory. You’re husband and wife, so his debts are also yours, which you now have to settle with Ushijima.

A little sleepy, you turn around a few times in bed. The fine silk sheets have nestled tightly around your body, flattering your contours, while the space next to you is cold and empty.

“Good morning, my precious angel.” The cheerful voice of your husband sounds as you feel the warm, soft lips of Oikawa on your shoulder blade and turn to him with a smile. “Good morning Tooru. Why are you up so early?” The moon is still bright in the sky, while the rest is adorned in darkness.

“I have to leave early today. But I’ll be back tonight, and then I’ll take good care of you.” Winking, he grins and gives you one last kiss before he walks out of your front door. You still don’t lose your smile when you look at the closed door. Because you are happy.

You have wonderful friends, a wonderful husband by your side you married a few years ago, a big house, and hopefully soon children who would make your life perfect.

With quiet music in the background, you stand in the kitchen and prepare Oikawa’s favorite food as you hear the door quietly open. First, you frown and are surprised that Oikawa is there so early, but the closer the steps are to you, the more uncomfortable the feeling in your stomach becomes.

These are not the steps of Oikawa. Besides, it’s two people you hear. Iwaizumi? No, he would always greet you loudly even before he took off his shoes. 

With shaky hands and a racing heartbeat, you reach for a large kitchen knife and hide behind the door. Two tall men, one with light hair and a dark look, the other with red hair and an almost demonic appearance, stand in the room and look around.

“Does this guy have a wife?” Ask one of the two indifferently as he points to the unfinished food. “Looks like there’s got to be a little Oikawa wifey around here somewhere.” The other grins and begins to giggle.

A wonder they haven’t noticed you yet. You could swear that if they turned off the music they could hear your heartbeat. You can’t fight two men this tall, maybe it’s better if you try to escape instead of attacking them. But maybe they are friends of Oikawa who want to surprise him?

But how did they get into your house without a key? Annoyed, the gray-haired man presses his hands to the hip and exposes a shiny metallic object. Your blood is freezing when you realize this object is a weapon.

You have to get out of here, and as if your body understands what you’re trying to tell, your legs are moving. Your ankles are almost white, so tight you hold the knife in your hand to prevent it from falling and making a sound.

Almost arriving at the door, the relief is already painting in your face as the wooden floor below you begins to creak. Your eyes are getting big, and now you know you have to run. But your legs are not fast enough against those of the tall man who pulls you back into the house with a loud shout.

“Who the fuck are you?” The tall man behind you calls while he pulls you to his back. With the knife, you try to attack him but only manage to graze his leg. But it’s enough to let go of you.

“You fucking whore, man!” He yells, his gun pointed at you, but you don’t listen, because you just want to get away. However, you won’t make it to the exit, as a dull sound echoes through the hallway, followed by your body sinking to the ground.

“Tendou… Did you just really knock her out with a pan?” Skeptically he looks at the red-haired man, the hands on his leg with the slight flesh wound. “Yes, of course. What were you gonna do? Shoot her in the leg? Come on, she’s a lady. So don’t disfigure her.” Smirks Tendou, and swings the pan back and forth in his hand.

“So what? We’re supposed to take Oikawa to Ushijima, not some woman.”, “Buuuuut, this isn’t just any woman. That’s Oikawa’s wife, and she’s cute. I’m sure Wakatoshi will like her. Maybe the idiot will pay his debts faster if he knows we have his pretty wifey.” The redhead interrupts him with a broad grin and squats down to lift your flaccid body.

Your head pulsates with pain as you open your eyes and try to straighten up your body. Everything is dark, only a moldy, metallic smell lies in the air. The floor below you feels wet and crumbly. Like you’re on a muddy underground.

Your clothes are already soaked and stink of a mixture of concrete, soil, and moisture. Where are you? In the dark, you grope along the wall until you reach a cold, iron door. From outside, you can hear the voices that you had in your head recently.

Just as you want to lean even closer to the door, you can hear the hinge clicking, how it is snapped up and you land on the floor. “Come with us.” Says the gray-haired man grimly, who now wears an improvised, sloppy bandage around his leg.

Motionless you sit on the floor and look at the two men puzzled before Tendou reaches out to you. “You’ll be fine. So come on.” Your body acts against your mind as you reach for his hand and he pulls you up with a jerk.

You walk up to a huge, imposing mahogany door with golden accents as the fierce man opens it next to you and the three of you enter. Just to meet a man who sits focused at his desk and writes something.

“What do you want, Tendou?” Without even raising his head, his deep voice fills the room. “You know, we didn’t find Oikawa, but we have something much better. His beloved wife.” Tendou hums happily as he steps forward. “Oh? So… What am I supposed to do with a woman? I can’t do anything with that thing.” He hisses indifferently and frowns.

The words ‘I told you’, are written in the face of the gray-haired man as he looks at Tendou, shaking his head. 

“Then you bastards can finally let me go!” You shout to the two men and try to get away from their grips when Ushijima looks up to you in amazement. He does not know whether it is the sound of your voice or this angelic but also fiery charisma, but somehow you seem to have awakened his interest in you. 

Maybe it’s because you belong to Oikawa and don’t belong to him. After all, Oikawa, for reasons inexplicable to Ushijima, hates him. Probably because he could never defeat him and had to admit that he would have taken a better, more successful path if he had gone with Ushijima.

It’s Oikawa who has a lot of debt to Ushijima, not the other way around. So what would happen if he took away the most important thing in his life? He’d have nothing. Right, his world would break in pieces.

But whatever it is, he can’t keep his eyes off yours. “This is Oikawa’s wife?” He finally says and puts the pen out of his hand to stand up and walk in your direction with quiet steps. Now that he’s standing in front of you, a cold shudder runs along your spine.

He is a real appearance as he stands so large and broad in front of you, his eyes sharp as a freshly sharpened knife. With an annoyed sound, he lowers his gaze, his big, cold hand on your chin, forcing you to look at him directly.

Only a few steps separate you from each other and you sense how a masculine, strict cologne flows through your nose. “Yeah, she’s quite pretty, but also cheeky, isn’t she?” Tendou giggles and looks with narrow eyes over to the gray-haired one, who rolls only displeased with the eyes.

With his fingers, he moves your face back and forth, brushes his thumb over your mouth, checks you out, before he lets go of you and looks at his friend and best man Tendou. Shortly after he takes his thumb off your mouth, you feel a metallic unpleasant taste on your tongue. Almost like the taste of fresh gunpowder.

What is all this about? Why are you here and what were they talking about earlier. What is Oikawa involved in? And worst of all, why didn’t he ever tell you? After all, you are his wife. 

“Maybe she’s good for something. Perhaps he’ll pay his debts when he knows his wife is with us.” Ushijima clicks his tongue, turns around, and sits back in his chair. His debts? “Tooru has no debts! We are doing well. We bought a wonderful house!” You respond to him with a trembling voice.

“Oh yes? And how do you think he managed to raise the money for your house? Believe me when I tell you he’s in debt, or not. Apparently, he doesn’t care about you enough to share his dark secret with you.” He says monotonously, looking back at the paper on his desk.

“You’re lying!” your screaming voice sounds, which is provided with a touch of insecurity. Because you don’t want to believe this man. “Hey, don’t yell at our boss like that, you stupid bitch!” You had almost forgotten the gray-haired man when he looked at you grimly and stepped in front of you.

“Don’t call her that, Semi. She must have a name, right?” Even if he still doesn’t look at you, you sense how the question is directed at you. Stubbornly you press your lips together as if you want to signal them that you won’t tell them anything, but then you see Semi moving his hand towards his weapon and open your mouth. “Oikawa…. Oikawa Y/n…” you answer with a little resistance in your voice.

“Good Y/n, Semi will take you to the guest room next to mine and clean you up. Dress her up and then lock the door behind you if you leave her alone.” He just wants to say something about this task because he obviously doesn’t like you, but he stops since he doesn’t want to contradict his boss.

“Come now.” He just hisses annoyed, while he grabs you roughly by the arm and pulls you out of the room, into a spaciously beautiful room, with a large bed and a wonderful wardrobe. Pictures decorate the walls, the light on the ceiling is so bright that you forget to stand in a room without windows.

Violently, Semi puts you in a room connected to yours, so you’re standing in the middle of the bathroom. “Take off your clothes.” You feel his hand in your back pushing you to the shower with a shovel.

“I’m not gonna undress in front of some creepy guy like y-”, “Shut up, little doll! You’re nowhere near the first woman I see naked, so stop acting like that, and start taking your clothes off, or I’ll rip them off of your body!” He stops you loudly and grabs your wrist to pull you against him and roughly tear on your top.

“Stop it!” you roar and bite him in the arm with all your strength. Angry, he shakes you away from himself and wants to pull out his gun when a hand from behind stops him. “Hehe, what’s going on Semi Semi? Are you mad that there are also women who don’t spread their legs when they see you?” Tendou chuckles, who steps out behind Semi’s back.

“You take care of that bitch, I’m gone.” Without even looking in your direction, he turns around and disappears, followed by a loud bang of the wooden door.

“Come on, sit on the bed.” Tendou tries to calm you down and puts himself a piece away from the door frame to let you through. You don’t know why, but he seems to be the nicest one here so far, so you nod and follow his instructions.

Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you hear the door open again, and next to Semi now Ushijima, their boss comes in. Directly, Tendou takes a step away from you and pursues his boss with his eyes, who sits next to you, with a gun in his lap on the bed.

Right away, you start to hold your breath because you’re sure he’s gonna kill you now that you’ve disfigured his colleague. With his free hand, he brushes a strand of hair off your face and clamps it behind your ear to then pull your face in his direction.

“You know, Y/n, I don’t like it when someone attacks my men. No matter how pretty and innocent that person may be. But neither do I like it when my men don’t handle women properly. Believe me when I tell you nothing will happen to you as long as you stick to the words of your master, your daddy. Do as I say, and you and your pretty face are safe with me.” he breathes to you with his deep voice that makes your whole body shudder again.

“Tendou, I’ll leave her to you. Do what Semi couldn’t do. Next time I come back in here, I want her done for me.” are his last words before he leaves you alone in the room with Tendou.

You’re supposed to be ready for him? What is this man up to with you? “Hey, don’t look like a deer in the headlight.”  Tendou’s laughing voice gets you out of your mind. Humming he moves towards the cabinet and opens it to push the hangers back and forth. “I think this should fit you.” Happily, he turns to you and holds a beautiful set of lingerie in his hands, purple fine lace, with black leather straps and a short silk gown.

You’d think it’s beautiful if you knew you were wearing it for Oikawa, but you’re supposed to be wearing it for another man? Now you can also guess what Ushijima meant when he said you should be ready for him.

Suddenly your eyes fill with tears and before you know it, these are caught by Tendou’s thumbs. “You heard Wakatoshi, you’ll be fine as long as you do what he wants. Believe me, he would never hurt you. He’s a good man, so come with me. I’ll give you a nice warm bath, leave the door open, and wait for you in the bedroom.” He smiles and brings the clothes to the bathroom.

The water comes out loud from the tap and fills the bathtub as you walk carefully towards Tendou. “Why are you being so nice to me?” You want to know from him. “I have no reason to be mean to you.” You hear his voice and how he checks with his finger if the water temperature is good. “The water’s good, so clean up and put your clothes in the hamper over there, the maid will take the laundry and clean it so you can get it back. I’ll wait outside.” 

As he said, he leaves the bathroom door open but doesn’t look your way. Thoughtfully you look at the lingerie and after a few moments get out of your wet, musty clothes to get into the warm water. The warm water kisses your body, your eyes get heavier and before you know it, you close your eyes and listen to the sparkling foam.

Uncomfortable you go into the bedroom, even if you find yourself beautiful in this lingerie and it fits surprisingly well as if it was made for you. But knowing that another man sees you as your beloved husband makes you want to throw up.

“If you get hungry, knock on the door. If Wakatoshi is not in your room, I’ll be in front of it. Water is next to your bed. Well, I’ll see you then.” Without even looking in your direction, Tendou says goodbye to you and leaves you alone in the room.

Shortly after you hear the door closing, you look around hastily to see if you have a chance to escape in this windowless room. Next to the bathroom door and the front door, there’s another door that leads to a room you don’t know. But of course, this door is locked, so you are looking for an item that may help you escape. Even here, in vain.

Crying, you crawl into a corner and slump on the floor, knees tightly pulled to your chest. Why didn’t Oikawa ever tell you anything? Why didn’t he trust you? Could it be that this man was right and you weren’t enough for Oikawa? No, it can’t be!

You don’t know how much time has passed since only this ceiling light illuminates the room. But the clicking of the door makes you twitch. Tired, you lift your head and see blurred, how a large, strong person enters the room. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

He sits down in front of you, looking into your swollen face as he presses a cold metallic object against your chin and makes you look into his eyes. “Ah, ah baby girl, look what you’ve done with your pretty face. It’s all swollen up.” Full of fear but also hate you look him in his dark olive eyes. He’s a handsome man, yet you hate him for taking you away from your husband.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. It’s your husband’s fault you’re here now, not with him. But don’t worry, you’ll soon think of other things than your husband. The bed, lie on it!” He commands bossy, and quickly straightened up.

But you just shake your head. “Don’t be silly, baby girl.” His deep voice enters your ears, and even before you can open your mouth, you feel the chilly opening of his weapon lying on your temple.

Instinctively, your eyes fill with new tears running warmly down your cheeks, and your body moves against your will to crawl on the bed. “Please, I didn’t do anything.” You beg him because you just want to get out of here.

But he gives you no answer, just looks at you with his indifferent look, the gun in his hand at all times, while he gradually lets his clothes slide to the ground. Freed from his clothes, he stands before you, a few scars drawing his perfect muscular skin.

Even though you’ve been crying all the time, your eyes only burn more when you see how huge his member is, which still hangs flaccidly between his legs. It’s not even erect, yet you know it would never fit into you without hurting you.

Sobbing, you look from this massive thing between his legs up into his eyes that send out anything but warmth and ask him to let you go. “Stop talking so much. Use your sweet mouth and suck on my cock just like it should be for a good baby girl. Show your daddy that you’re worth treating you well.” 

His words make your stomach twist, you get unwell as you look at him in disgust. But it was stupid of you to think that you could defend yourself against such a tall, strong man. Because just as you’re trying to shake your head, you feel his cold hand burying itself in your hair and pulling you roughly forward, the other hand with the gun to your temple.

“Suck it!” His patience has disappeared when he angrily gives you this command, presses his limb literally into your whiny face. Afraid to hear the trigger go off, you open your mouth and start to put his cock in your trembling mouth.

You just have the tip in, when you realize that it is much too big for you so that you’re about to throw up. Fearing for your life, you still try to stick it in, but quickly realize that you are beginning to choke and fresh tears appear in the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh? Does your beloved Oikawa have such a tiny cock or why would you have problems with gagging after not even half of my dick?” His words are accompanied by a deep, barely audible laughter as he plunges his limb into your mouth with a jerk and makes you open your eyes full of pain and shock.

Reflexively, you support your hands against his thighs and try to prevent him from pushing his dick even deeper into your throat. His hand buried in your hair moves your head back and forth.

The only sound you hear is your sniffing, your swallowing, and the increasingly audible groan of Ushijima, whose cock grows painfully fast in your mouth and makes you gag every time its tip kisses your palate.

“Your mouth does it so well, it takes my length so well. Let’s see if you can absorb and swallow daddy’s sperm as good.” He mutters one last time before he presses his limb full strength into your throat and colors it white.

Next to his dick, which still twitches in your throat, you feel the warm sperm, running thickly down your inside. Just when he hears you swallow his cum, he pulls his cock out of you and takes his hand off the back of your head.

Only a mixture of sperm and saliva binds you together before this thread tears and sticks to your chin. You look so cute, lying on the bed in his favorite lingerie, adorned with his cum, and looking at him like a lost puppy. 

But this wonderful view does not remain for long, because you turn around against his command and want to crawl away from him.

You want to get away from the man who used you as a toy for his desires. You feel disgusting, used. But again, you have to admit to yourself that you’re stupid, for just following your will.

Suddenly you feel an arm wrap around your waist and jerk you backward. As if you are smashed against a wall, your body lands on Ushijima’s chest. “Where are you going huh?” His husky voice is dangerously close to your ear as you feel his hand crawling under the silk coat and caressing the outline of your body.

“Oh? You don’t think that satisfies me, do you? Oikawa has a lot of debts. You’re husband and wife, so it’s your debt too. So if he can’t pay the debt, I guess you’ll have to take them over.” He adds indifferently as he pins you down on the bed, his chest still on your back so that you are prevented from fleeing. “Please, I don’t want to, I’m scared.” You sniff under him and keep squeezing your legs together, afraid of what’s about to happen to you.

“Don’t be scared, baby girl. I’ll make it fit.” It’s not just the gun you feel cold on your spine. No, you also feel Ushijima’s stiff cock on your back, as it painfully reminds you that everything that happens now will be unpleasant.

You just hated Oikawa for not telling you about the debt and getting you into this situation, even though you still love him. But how could he do this to you? Just leave you to a mob boss who will do what he wants with you or shoot you if you don’t obey him.

You feel his legs on your inner thighs and how they spread them with force, so that Ushijima can get better access to your most sensitive body part. With pleasure, he licks his lips as he begins to knead your ass and slowly work his way up to your walls.

“No, please…” You whine when you feel his fingers on your skin as they try to break up your walls to get into your entrance. Calmly, he savors your soft skin as he goes up and down, exerting pressure on your clit to then get back to your entrance to check if you are getting wet by now.

But to his dismay, you’re not. You try to prevent your body from feeling good, which is not difficult for you, as you are forced to do so, and besides this man is not someone you love. “How unsatisfying.” He just hisses displeased, takes his hand off you, and lifts his chest slightly, so that you take the opportunity to tear yourself away from him and crawl away.

In vain, because aggressively he pins you back on the bed now fully in rage, and constricts the air to breathe away, from behind. It’s almost as if he knows exactly when your lungs are starting to hurt and your vision becomes unclear when he reduces the pressure on your neck and after a few seconds his big hand loops around your tender neck like a snake. 

“Now I’ve had enough of you! I’ve told you I’m good to you as long as you follow my orders but apparently I have to show you where your place is!” He calls to you angry and presses with force his rock hard, massive cock into your dry entrance.

“Ahhh stop!” You scream in pain as you feel this thing aggressively getting in and making everything in you pound. Everything in you burns, contracts, pulsates, and hurts extremely. You have the feeling that he tears your womb into pieces and senses an unpleasant wet feeling spreading between your legs.

You know it’s not your juices, rather your blood, which promotes Ushijimas movements and helps him to penetrate deeper and more aggressively.

"Look what we did to you, if you’d listened to me, this would have been different.” You hear his strained voice behind you, as it makes you understand that here you are nothing but just a toy for him, which should obey him.

And you have to admit that if you want to get out of here alive with no pain, no visible wounds, you have to do what he tells you to do. Crying, you admit that your body is being used by a man other than your husband.

“You do it well, don’t fight back baby girl.” He praises you as his movements get sloppy and he pulls his cock out of you to spread his warm cum on your back. He proudly looks at his masterpiece before he takes a handkerchief from the nightstand and cleans himself.

Relief draws your face. While all of this seems to be over for today, even if everything in your body continues to hurt. Yet you remain anxiously lying down, as you do not dare to move and be used again by him.

But to your astonishment, you feel incredibly soft, warm lips on your shoulder blade lingering lovingly for a moment before they let go of you just to then caress your arm afterward. “You know, it doesn’t have to be like this if you don’t fight back.”, “Leave me alone!” Your voice is dull under the blanket.

“Well… until then Y/n.” One last time you feel his warm lips on your arm, as only a few seconds later you hear the door closing. Irritated, you turn around, only to find out that Ushijima is no longer there.

Deep breathing, straightening up, you pull your legs closer to your upper body and bury your head inside them.

“You know, Wakatoshi is actually a very great man.” All of a sudden you hear a voice that strangely gives you a sense of security, followed by a soft, slightly damp towel that gently moves over your back. 

With your eyes still slightly closed, you look aside to find Tendou looking at you with a wide smile and cleaning your body without even looking at your most feminine parts.

“You should be grateful he found something in you. Normally, he would take pieces of body parts from you. First a strand of hair, a finger, your tongue… Something every day until Oikawa pays his debts. But you seem to be an exception here. So don’t blame him for your husband getting you into this.” Even though his words are anything but reassuring, it is his look and tenderness with which he helps you get up into the bathroom.

"Do you understand how good he is? He lets you sleep here in a great room instead of locking you down in the dark basement. So be a good girl and listen to your new friend Tendou." He whispers in your ear with a slim grin, just before he leaves the room.

Still shaking, you let the warm water splash over your body, trying somehow to wash yourself clean and think about Tendou’s words. Somehow he is right, after all, it’s not Ushijimas fault. Oikawa is the one who lied to you, not him. Still, he didn’t treat you very kindly.

Completely torn back and forth, you go back to the bedroom, where Tendou has already re-made the bed and waits for you with a drink. “What is this, Tendou?” You ask him confused while he reaches out to you.

“Just a tea, that makes you sleep well.” He smiles and waits for you to drink the delicious-tasting tea. “Lie down, I’ll see you tomorrow.” With these words, he says goodbye and leaves you alone in the room.

You notice how your eyes get heavier, your thoughts blurred and how you suddenly collapse on the bed and fall asleep.

The next few weeks are just like your first day here. You don’t know if Ushijima enters the room every day to sleep with you or if he does it several times a day or just every few days because you don’t have a sense of time anymore.

No matter how many times you have to think of Tendou’s words, in the end, you try to defend yourself, and again everything hurts in retrospect. However, you hate your husband every day more for what he did to you and therefore feel increasingly connected to Ushijima.

It’s probably also Tendou’s words that subconsciously manipulate you. How precious you are to Ushijima. That everyone can see it and you will see and understand it as well when you finally give yourself to him.

Forget your scheming husband, who abandoned you. 'Cause, only Ushijima would be the man to please and protect you. 

Yes, it was Tendous words… Because the last time Ushijima sleeps with you, you notice how your body builds up less resistance. Ushijima knows it won’t take long before he owns you until you belong to him and not Oikawa.

Today you wear his favorite lingerie, the one in which he likes you in so much, in which he looks at you hungrily.

You’re just waiting for Ushijima to enter the room and do what he usually does to you. And when he finally enters the room, undressing wordlessly, as you go straight to your knees without resistance to take his cock in your mouth, he knows exactly that he has broken your will.

A barely visible grin draws the corner of his mouth before he approaches you and looks down into your eyes from above. “Get up. Not today.” Are the only words that come out of him while you look at him puzzled when he pulls you up by your hair. “Come with me.” He adds and points to the door, where you have asked yourself until now where this leads only to find out that this guides exactly to his bedroom.

A huge room with ground-level windows that provide a view of the snow-covered forest and a frozen river illuminate the room in an almost romantic atmosphere. It looks like the sun is about to set because the darkness is slowly coming out.

In the room is expensive furniture, a huge king-size bed, with gray-golden silk sheets. It looks so incredibly soft and the rest of the room just leaves you amazed, standing on a spot, until you feel a hand on your back moving you towards the bed.

You can feel his cold fingertips skilfully opening your bra and sliding down to the floor along your body, followed by your panties kissing the floor just seconds later. With a push, he shoves you onto his bed, which catches your body with ease and looks at you with fiery eyes.

“What do you think? Do we need it today?” His lust-filled voice resounds as he holds his cold weapon against your nipple and stares at you as he slowly strolls down to your entrance with the weapon and lingers there.

A feeling that you previously only knew at Oikawa, spreads within you. You sense the area between your legs getting wet from the cold metal, from Ushijima’s look when you pinch them together and a shudder runs along your spine.

With glowing cheeks you playfully bite your lower lip and shake your head embarrassed, your eyes focused on Ushijima’s. You don’t miss his quiet laughter when he looks into your beautiful, scattered face and knows exactly that you squeeze your legs together because you are only excited by the touch of his weapon.

That’s exactly what he wants to see, his baby girl begging for him and his cock, which only wants him and no one else. Not even her beloved husband Oikawa. Without you having to touch his cock, it grows along with the thought of making you his woman.

He would have liked to see Oikawa’s face when his beloved wife knelt for his rival without resistance, only to suck on his cock and milk him. But it is even better to know that you got involved with Ushijima, that you understand that you are his and he can take care of you much better than Oikawa.

He proudly puts the gun on his nightstand and pulls you by your legs to the edge of the bed to suck fervently on the inside of your thighs, to kiss them, and to work himself down to your entrance. 

His touches are like a drug for you, you can’t and won’t get enough of them. From these kisses that tell you he’s proud to have you. When you feel his breath on your wet walls, you shrug briefly and tilt your pelvis down. “Ushijima, that feels so good.” You moan softly and tilt your head backward as you startle with a slap on your sensitive walls.

“Ah, ah… Are you trying to be naughty again? Have you forgotten what to call me?” He hisses in a husky voice as his olive eyes come up between your legs and stare at you. “D- Daddy… Sorry, daddy…” you correct yourself and wait for the praise of Ushijima. “That’s my good baby girl.” He answers you with a grin and turns back to your walls.

His eyes are on your face as he circles his fingers around your entrance, slowly enveloping them with your juice, and watching you groan with the feeling of having his index and ring finger in you, the thumb on your clit to give you a benevolent feeling there as well.

“Daddy you’re so good to me!” You groan as you feel his fingers explore your walls and bend to meet exactly the right spot. How your cheeks gain even more warmth, your nipples become stiff and your body moves willingly, drives him crazy.

He still moves his fingers in you before he replaces his thumb with his lips and sucks on your clit, licks over it, blows against it, and starts sucking it again. “Come for me baby girl.” His voice vibrates on your skin as you feel the knot loosen inside you, your legs start to shake while squeezing his head, and your eyes roll backward. “Damn it, daddy I’m coming.” You groan as you push your pelvis further to Ushijima and cover his lips with your juice.

Without changing his expressions, he licks your delicious juice off your lips and pulls his fingers out of you just to leave a bitter void in you. He carefully inspects his fingers, which shine in the yellowish light of the lamp, and looks down at you as you lie out of breath with an open mouth in front of him, legs still shaking, beautiful for him to look at. 

“Suck on them, clean them up! Do what your daddy tells you to do.” You can feel his deep voice on your neck and how he puts his fingers in your mouth. Reflexively, you seek contact with his eyes as you begin to wrap your tongue around his fingers and suck loudly at them.

His gaze is razor-sharp as his olive-colored eyes look at you and enjoy the sight. “Tell me, baby girl, do you want my cock in you? Do you deserve it?” He wants to know from you while his fingers leave your mouth with a loud plop.

"Yes daddy, please give me your cock!" You’re begging him. This desire to absorb his length fully in you is so huge. Which only makes Ushijima happier, and makes him enter inside you piece by piece. 

Unlike the weeks before, he is so careful and gentle, making sure you don’t have any pain. "Nnngh…" You groan as you feel every vein of its length painfully spreading your inner walls. But the pain is different than usual, it is pleasant in an odd way. 

"Are you in pain baby girl? Shall I stop?" he asks rhetorically because he knows you don’t want him to leave a void in you again. 

"No, please! I want to feel your whole dick in my cunt daddy!" You say weeping and reach for his upper arms to stop him from going away from you.

Lovingly his arms wrap around your waist and pull you up so that he can get your delicate body just with one arm, holding you in the air, while his cock enters deeper into you. 

A prick spreads in your abdomen while you pinch your eyes together and bite your lip. "Nngh daddy your dick is too big…", "Oh? Too big for my pretty baby girl huh?" Interrupts his deep voice, just before he lays you gently on the bed and then squats in front of your entrance.

He gently caresses your legs before he spreads them with a little pressure, lifts them with his hands at your ankles, and presses his body against them to enter you with a loud murmur. 

Through this new angle, and by opening your legs so wide, his cock can enter you much more easily. He needs a few thrusts until his dick is wrapped in your juice and smoothly kisses your inner walls. 

With slim eyes he watches you as your breasts move up and down, his limb sinks into your sweet pussy, you lay awkwardly under him, not knowing where to put your body and the lustful feelings that want to get out of you. A sight that satisfies him incredibly and makes his member twitch in you. "Look, you are such a beautiful baby girl for me."

Even if you think it’s great that Ushijima praises you so much and gently touches your body, you want him to get rough and aggressive again. Because strangely enough, you have to admit that you find his rough nature as attractive and masculine and how he controls you.

"Ahh I want everything from you, show me you’re my strong daddy." You whine while tilting your head backward. "Oh? You want me to be rough with you? Well…" You hear his astonished deep voice as he begins to enter you faster and deeper.

"Nnngh so good, so good." You groan loudly at his sloppy, more aggressive thrusts, and feel his balls clap against your skin at every thrust. 

"Tell me how good it feels to have my dick inside of you Y/n." his husky voice sounds through the room, accompanied by the damp sound of your skin coming together. 

"So good daddy! Your massive cock feels so good in me, there’s no one who can fill me as perfectly as you!" You purr and push your pelvis deeper into the duvet to feel his limb even better in you.

With each powerful thrust, he hits just the right spot in you that takes you to the edge of your climax. 

"I wonder what he'd do if he knew you were with me right now." With a lustful look, he faces you while these words leave his mouth.

For a moment your eyes widen in panic because you have completely forgotten your husband. But what kind of husband is he, if he leaves you alone for weeks. 

"Tell me, baby girl, what would you do if he knew that you were with me and so willingly give yourself into me? Admitting that only I can really satisfy your needs, huh?" Hungry, his hand wanders from your ankle down to your neck and presses it lightly.

His big hand adorns your neck so beautifully. This feeling of power that is spreading within him, leads him to distribute his load within you soon. “I… don’t know…” You answer him, torn back and forth, since you would never want to see how broken and hurt Oikawa would be if he saw you with another man. But on the other hand, he abandoned you, lied to you, and Ushijima was the one who cared for you and didn’t kill you for the debts Oikawa has on him.

“I don’t think Oikawa would be so happy to see us here, huh? The way you so wonderfully wrap and squeeze around my cock. That feels so good baby girl. So tell me, who makes you happy? Who can make you orgasm?” He wants to know while he’s fucking your brains out.

You don’t know what to say anymore, you just know that your whole body is burning with lust, that this knot that has newly formed is tightening up harder as you know exactly that you will come any moment.

“Who, give me the name that makes you happy! I won’t let you come before you answer me.” Demands Ushijima, when even before he can finish his sentence you call his name. “Ushijima!”, “The whole name!” he orders again while slapping your breast, and again his name comes out under your trembling voice. “Ushijima Wakatoshi!” you cry out. 

“My name sounds so wonderful when you say it so needy. I’m going to shoot my cum so deep into your womb that you’re carrying my fucking kid Y/n Oikawa, or should I call you Y/n Ushijima from now on?” His voice is also getting throaty as his movements get harder so that you can’t hold back your voice any longer. 

Your walls contract and the knot in you, just like your mouth loosens and makes you roll your eyes backward in an incredibly benevolent desire.“Haaah Ushijima! I’m coming!” 

“Come for your daddy baby girl!” He growls almost animalistic as he accelerates his movements and presses his thick sperm into you with a loud moan. Out of breath, he collapses on you, his cock still twitches in you and remains there, so that his sperm stays in you.

Sweat drips down his temple, his skin sticks to yours, as you feel his breath loud and restless in the crook of your neck. The room, which had smelled so fresh earlier, now smells of sweat and sperm.

You feel so good with his warm body on top of you, his soft hair tickling your neck, and the loving kisses he spreads on your body while leaving little hickeys, to mark you as his.

But what you don’t notice is that Tendou, Semi, and especially Oikawa are standing in the door frame. Broken, his face dressed in tears he looks at you. His mouth glued with tape he tries to pull himself out of the clutches of the two men holding him. To get to you, to his most beloved precious wife, to tear you away from this monster. In vain.

But unlike you, Ushijima knew that Oikawa had been standing in the door for several minutes and watched him fuck his beloved woman. Taking the most important thing in his life will pay off any debt he owes. Having such a beautiful woman by his side is better than any money he can get.

“Get him down to the basement... and take the ring off of him. Because there’s no husband and wife Oikawa anymore. Y/n belongs to me… You’ll be a Ushijima soon.” His cold voice lies in the air as he reaches for your hand, pulls off the ring, and kisses you on the now-empty ring spot, his olive-colored eyes fixed on yours the whole time.

For a moment, you think you need to cry now that you know Oikawa’s heart has been shattered into thousands of pieces. However, these tears do not come. Without even looking at him, Oikawa is taken away by the men. 

Lost in your thoughts, you rub your thumb over the empty ring spot. But even before you can think about anything, Ushijima’s fingers make sure that you look him directly into the suddenly so warm eyes. 

“Y/n… You don’t have to be afraid anymore. No one will touch or hurt you, I’ll make sure of it. You belong with me now, my pretty baby girl.” His last words are so quiet that you can hardly understand them before he bends forward to give you a warm kiss that is full of love and passion, for the first time. “My pretty girl.” 

You don’t know if you would feel guilty if you looked Oikawa in the eye, or hate, or even feel nothing. But you know one thing…

You’re not Y/n Oikawa anymore.