#homeschool flow

[somethingnubian]

Breaking the Mold: Embracing the Freedom to Homeschool Beyond the System

Homeschooling can feel overwhelming, especially when your child seems to fall behind, lack motivation, or doesn’t meet traditional grade expectations. You’re not alone! I, too, have faced the fears of not doing enough and wondered if I was somehow failing my child. But here’s the truth: homeschooling is not about copying the school system. It’s about creating a nurturing, flexible environment…

[almostheav4n]

thinking about Joel Miller set in a southern gothic background

[indecisive-capricorn]

Tranquility in Marriage — Gojo Satoru x Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI, heavy implications and talks of sexism, gender inequality because its in a more traditional setting, fluff, arranged marriage, quiet love, slowburn, distrust at first, elders acting like shit

SUMMARY: Getting into an arranged marriage with you was the only order Gojo Satoru had ever obeyed from the Elders and it was certainly not one he regretted.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is heavily inspired on a slow love song I found and it's like a part one of the background of a mini-series for the arranged marriage au.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Before you go, have a glass of wine or better yet, recommend a good bottle. any kind of message is always a delight.

You looked in front of the mirror with cold, empty eyes that practically screamed for you to get out of there. The beautiful white gown fit your body perfectly, the painted lips left not a single smudge around it, the curled hair flowed down elegantly—every detail in place, every inch seen and carefully given attention to, an evident of your family's perfectionism. But it felt nothing like you, almost as if you were in someone else's skin or more precisely, a nightmare that could been ended with a single pinch.

However, no matter how many times you tried to dig your sharp nails into the flesh of your elbow, desperately attempting to wake yourself, you were instead met with a sting from the pinch and the bitter realization that this was indeed real. All of it was your reality now and you didn't have a say in it anymore.

Growing up in a traditional and strict clan meant that you had been taught lessons that you would never have learnt if you had been born in a normal family, your childhood no longer becoming your own as the adults around you took control.

While other little girls learnt how to tie their shoelaces and sing the alphabets during their childhood, your mother and the ladies of the clan homeschooled you and taught you the ways of how marriage works early on in your childhood. They tried to drill the idea of being a perfect wife in your head, becoming obsessed over time to turn you into a bargaining doll- a perfect bride to be sold of to another clan for power and fame.

In your childhood, you became lonely and isolated, cut off from the rest of the world the high walls your clan built around you. The women of your clan would frequently tell you horror stories, meant to keep you afraid, obedient and most importantly, loyal. They told you all about the cruel men who would sell you for money, how shame and ruin will only follow you beyond the clan's protection, and how staying within tradition is important to preserve your dignity.

"None of us would become anything without tradition," Your father lamented during supper, while your mother poured more tea into his cup, "Each of us have duties to be fulfilled with the roles given to us. You must do the same."

"But I do not know him, Father," you spoke up, voice steady as ever, causing several figures around you to stiffen, including your mother whose hand froze around the teapot handle. "How can I marry someone I do not know? I don't even know what he looks like. I've only heard from the whispers of others. "

Even with the suffocating pressure of tradition, you had always clung to your freedom. Long before you ever learned about the outside world, before you secretly discovered what life was like beyond the clan walls, you had already felt the longing of freedom in your heart. You wanted to live without fear and discover the world for yourself. You wanted to become more than what you were destined for.

And once you did learn and saw how different things could be for women outside of the clan's high walls, you couldn't erase it from your thoughts.

You began to question it. At first, your rebellion came in sharp bursts during your teenage years, which consisted of loud arguments, slammed doors, sleepless nights. But over time, you learned to wield your defiance more carefully. Quietly. Strategically.

You learned how to maintain your peace while still discovering pieces of yourself that they will never reach. You found freedom in stolen books, brief conversations with outsiders, and long moments spent in your gardens where no one could hear you think.

But no amount of rebellion could stop the letter that arrived from the Gojo clan.

And now, sitting at the table during supper, you could feel that old, familiar burn in your chest. The ache of a future chosen for you, wrapped in duty and a name far more powerful than your own.

Your mother's face slowly turned red with fury, lips tightening, ready to yell at you, "You ungrateful brat—"

"You will know him soon enough, flower," your father interjected gently but firmly, shooting a warning glare to your mother. She fell silent with a click of her tongue.

Your father turned back to you, eyes softening with understanding and sorrow. "And you will do your duty," he said, not as a command but rather as a reminder. "As I have. As your mother has. As every soul at this table has for generations, and many more to come."

There was no malice in your father's words. There never had been.

You were his only child. His only daughter.

Out of everyone in the clan, he had dreaded this day the most. He had postponed your marriage as long as he could, always making excuses to the elders that there wasn't a suitable match for you yet, allowing you to have more time with your freedom. He had ensured you had everything your heart desired growing up, whether it'd be bookshelves filled with books to private gardens for you to wander alone, away from the suffocating clan members.

He had given you everything he could and he was the one to raise you as you are now, but even he was bound. "I would keep you forever here if I could," your father had said quietly to you in private when the announcement was first made. "However, I am unable to postpone this. The Gojo clan had been asking for your hand for quite some time now."

And just like that, your heart broke into pieces.

The Gojo clan, the most powerful and ancient family within the Jujutsu Society, had proposed a marriage between you and their only heir, Gojo Satoru. A name that's known in every household as he was known to hold the most powerful gift ever known, appearing only once in a hundred of years.

The Strongest, the Chosen One and now, your soon-to-be husband.

That was why your clan paid no mind to expenses. The wedding preparations was meant to become a spectacle to guests to dazzle. They wanted the whole world to know that their bloodline would be bound to the most exclusive and the most powerful clan in all the Jujutsu Society. And one day, their bloodline would be the one to have heirs of the Six Eyes and Limitless.

They paraded you around like a crowned jewel. A daughter. A symbol. A transaction for power.

Your father tried his best to comfort you throughout the whole process and even told you of how kind and polite the young Gojo was, but you still felt dread crawling up your chest every time you were reminded of the wedding.

Eventually, your father arranged a formal supper, hosting an official meeting between the two clans. A chance for you and your betrothed to meet face to face.

The Gojo clan would be arriving that evening.

You had never seen him before. Not even a glimpse. But the rumors painted him vividly. The piercing, otherworldly blue eyes that marked him as the wielder of the Six Eyes. Eyes said to see through everything and everyone. Eyes that couldn’t be lied to. Eyes that made people tremble at the mere sight of them.

You didn't know him. Not really. And that made him unpredictable.

And in your perspective, unpredictability was dangerous.

It didn't help that during the rare times you were allowed to leave the estate—escorted by maids who watches you closely—you still managed to hear the whispers and gossips from others. And when you snuck out on your own, hidden beneath a dark cloak as you always are, the whispers grew louder.

Some said he was mad. That he laughed too easily, smiled too widely. That he was far too powerful to be stable. Others whispered that he was dangerous—that behind that charming mask was a storm waiting to unravel. Some pitied you.

"Poor girl," they said. "She’ll be the one to face his gift when he loses control."

You couldn’t help but wonder who was right or perhaps, if all of them were and it depends on who he was with.

And still, you would have to sit beside him. Smile. Bow. Be the bride everyone expected you to be. Even if your hands trembled beneath the silk sleeves of your gown from fear and anxiety.

In the middle of the dining room, the air was thick with tension as servants rushed back and forth, arms full of trays and porcelain. Your aunts barked orders, your uncles corrected the seating arrangements for the fifth time, and your mother hovered over the flower arrangements like the wrong color petal might ruin the whole evening. You breath caught in your throat again. It had been happening all day. It was like a ticking time bomb and the explosion was getting closer with each breath you took.

And yet, no matter how many times they spoke of your betrothed, he remained nothing more than a blur in your mind. Unpredictable. Possibly destructive.

So, you did what you always did when the walls began to close in. You ran.

You slipped past your family members, past the servants busy with arrangements, past the elder who tried to stop you with a half-hearted call of your name. Your slippers barely made a sound on the wooden floors. You knew every corner, spending your whole life memorizing it to escape from everyone without getting noticed. You pushed a hidden door open to your garden.

The only place that ever felt like yours.

The only place you could freely be yourself with no eyes around.

No one was allowed here. Not the elders. Not the servants. Not even your mother dared to enter without invitation, which she can never get. Your father had made sure of that. It was your sanctuary and on days like this, it was the only thing that kept you breathing.

"It's just a stupid man," you tried to assure yourself, breathing deeply. You should consider yourself fortunate for not having Naoya Zenin as your betrothed. He was close to becoming your betrothed but your father refused to after sensing something terrible within the Zenin, which caused your mother to frequently complain to her sisters about since besides the Gojo clan, the Zenin clan is quite powerful as well. However, you heard that he was terrible behind doors towards his own staff and that your father had indeed saved you from a cruel destiny with him.

Perhaps Gojo Satoru isn't as bad as they say? You heard that he was a teacher as well to a school in Tokyo and becoming a teacher certainly teaches one patience and understanding.

Your whole body became alert when you felt someone open the door.

"Didn't think you'd be the type to bolt," came a voice from the doorway.

You froze.

The voice was low and teasing but calm as if he'd been waiting.

Your head snapped toward the sound, eyes locking onto a tall figure. His white hair caught the silver of the moonlight, and a pair of dark-tinted glasses covered his eyes. He didn’t look dressed for a formal dinner, though he wore the same colors as your clan's celebration garb, only looser, more relaxed, as if tradition didn't sit tightly on his skin the way it did on yours.

Gojo Satoru.

You didn’t need to ask.

You just knew.

"I had a feeling you might be here. Your garden looks lovely," he remarked with a smile, stepping casually onto the stone path but he made sure to keep a distance between you to keep you comfortable. "Though I have to admit, I expected you to climb the back wall and disappear completely. Not take a detour through your rose bushes."

You stared at him in disbelief, both at how relaxed he was and how annoying he was. "How do you know this is my garden?"

He tapped his ear. "I listen. Your maids gossip a lot."

You narrowed your eyes. "And how did you get here if you only listened? Did you follow me here?"

"I wandered," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "And stumbled into your sanctuary entirely by accident."

He looked at you. "Lucky me. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have seen such beauty."

You weren't sure if he meant the garden or you.

Silence stretched between the two of you.

He didn’t look dangerous. He didn’t look insane. If anything, he looked as if he was trying to figure out what to do or even say to you in the situation you are in. You two are meant to be married soon after all. His posture was relaxed, his voice soft and unassuming. The famous Gojo Satoru, who wielded the Six Eyes and Limitless, who could obliterate entire clans with a flick of his hand, stood there looking more like a polite yet awkward houseguest than the strongest sorcerer alive.

And then, just as your heart started to calm, he reached into his sleeve and pulled something out. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sugar bun he brought out, neatly wrapped in a pale paper.

He held it out to you, completely deadpan. "Peace offering."

Your brows furrowed. "…For what?"

He shrugged one shoulder, a lazy motion that somehow still managed to carry elegance. "For crashing your very exclusive garden party. And, you know, the whole arranged marriage thing."

You blinked, taken aback by the casualness in his tone.

He tilted his head and added, "I’m aware I don't exactly have a peaceful reputation, but I heard you liked sweets and I thought you would find flowers boring."

You stared at the sugar bun. Then back at him. Then back at the sugar bun. You did like sugar buns and you did favor snacks over flowers any day, but how could he have known that?

"…You’ve been spying on me?"

"Research," he said, one hand dramatically placed on his chest. "Basic recon. You’d be amazed what I can find out from your maids in just a few minutes."

"But even so, how did you manage to get the sugar bun on time? Your family couldn't have been here for that long," you pointed out, suspicion creeping into your voice.

Gojo grinned, the kind of grin that belonged to someone far too pleased with himself.

"Teleportation," he said simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked. "Teleportation," you repeated in disbelief.

"Yep. Technically, it’s a manipulation of space, but that’s boring talk." He gave the sugar bun a slight wave in front of your face. "What matters is that one moment I’m sweet-talking your maids, next moment I’m popping into my favorite bakery with the most delicious sugar bun that I know of in Tokyo, and then boom, I’m back here with the gift in hand."

"I didn’t want to show up empty-handed," he said with a casual shrug. "First impressions matter, and I didn’t think you'd be impressed by the usual fancy clan offerings. The elders suggested gold, pearls, cursed weapons-- they're all quite a bore."

You almost smiled.

The absurdity of it. The sincerity behind that sugar bun.

"And besides," he added, stepping a little closer and holding out the sugar bun again, "I wanted to give you something you would actually like and enjoy."

That made you pause.

It was true that you expected gifts from him not because you wanted it but rather that it was obligatory for the bride and groom to gift something in their first meeting. It had always been mandatory.

But this? A sugar bun from Tokyo, delivered through a manipulation of time and space, because he thought you would like it?

You took it from his hand, your fingers brushing his for the briefest second.

"Thank you," you murmured with a sincere smile.

He smiled so gently that it made you wondered for a moment--just for a moment--why you had been so guarded before.

"Anytime," he said.

—

"Where have you been?" Your mother whispered harshly the moment you stepped into the living room where the two families waited. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe with thinly hidden irritation.

You had told Gojo not to follow you, knowing very well that his presence beside you would raise several eyebrows, especially with the more traditional members like the elders at present. He understood though. He always seemed to understand, even when you didn't mind his company. It was something that needed to be done.

Before you could explain yourself, her eyes dropped to the sugar bun still in your hand. Her face turned furious and without missing a beat, she snatched the bun from your hand and shoved it to a nearby servant who got startled by the sudden presence of the snack in her hand.

"You are already spoiled enough," she hissed under her breath, as though your existence was a stain on a fine porcelain, disgust evident in her eyes. "But hiding away from your own engagement to eat sweets? Have you no shame?"

She aggressively smoothed out the front of your attire.

"Look at the mess you’ve made of yourself," she muttered, deeply annoyed. "If anyone knows better, they would have thought you passed through a storm to get here."

Aunts materialized around you like a daily routine, fixing your hair and adjusting stray threads from your attire with careful fingers and disapproving silence. They were less vocal about it, thinking that your mother's constant criticism would be enough for you to learn a lesson. You barely had the time to breathe through your mother's little makeover before you were presented—more like, pushed—to the heads of the Gojo clan.

Gojo Naoyuki and Gojo Sayaka.

Your future-in-laws.

Maintaining a steady posture, you bowed to them with grace as a formal greeting that was ingrained since childhood and one that. You had wondered what they might be like because unlike Satoru, there were barely any conversations surrounding them. One might even thought Satoru didn't any at all, given how rarely they were mentioned. Gojo Naoyuki held a great resemblance to his son—sharp jawline, striking white hair, the same proud nose—but he had none of Satoru's charms or even the twinkle in Satoru's eyes. Instead, his gaze was heavy and rather restricted, a large contrast with Satoru's own personality.

In some ways, he reminded you of your father—bounded by tradition, but he seemed to have experienced it far greater than your father had, tradition carved deeper into the lines of his every expression.

Gojo Sayaka, by contrast, was as beautiful as the whispers did claim, ever so graceful and composed, features refined like porcelain. There was an effortless elegance to her, the kind not taught but inherited. And yet, she had said very little since the moment you entered. Her silence was not absent though, it was calculation. Her poised eyes had followed your every movement the moment you stepped into the room, unlike her husband, whose focus had remained locked in conversation with your father.

Her gaze wasn't cruel, nor was it warm. It was observant. Formal. Dutiful. The way a queen might pay attention to her court; nothing personal and only done with a purpose.

While Satoru’s presence made you feel seen, Sayaka’s made you feel studied, like a judge almost.

However, you were used to judging eyes as well. You had been your whole life with the way the women in your clan, especially your mother, have berated you all these years and insulted you as well for every little thing you do. Yet, here you are, having to marry a family that's far better than the one your mother had married into. If it wasn't an arranged marriage, you would have been prideful of it sooner but after knowing your future husband, you were more at peace and only made your formalities. At the very least you will make sure to not tarnish the Gojo name.

Your father stepped forward first, bowing with practiced grace. “Gojo-dono. It is our honor to welcome you into our home.”

Naoyuki inclined his head. “The honor is mutual.” His voice was deep and calm, but carried the weight of a man who measured every word. “We have long observed your clan’s reputation for discipline. We are pleased to see it was not exaggerated.”

Your father offered a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We strive to uphold what was passed down.”

Naoyuki gave a single approving nod before his eyes shifted toward you. They swept over you—not in scrutiny, not even judgment—but in the way one might inspect a weapon, a seal, an heirloom. “You carry yourself well," he remarked smoothly but lacked in warmth. "As expected of your clan. Daughters are often the reflection of a clan's discipline."

You bowed again. “Thank you, Gojo-dono.”

“It is not praise," he said evenly, “It is the standard.”

Silence hung for a moment too long and your aunts braced themselves for the bite that you usually do, but instead you just smiled politely. "Of course, I was raised well by my family and I will continue to honour the Gojo family with everything I was taught."

The room remained still for a heartbeat longer. Your mother’s eyes twitched ever so slightly, unsure whether to feel pride or suspicion. Your aunts exchanged brief glances, perhaps uncertain if your response was a surrender or a warning wrapped around in silk.

Naoyuki studied you, and while his expression didn’t change, there was a shift in the air, the slightest pause before he nodded once. Accepting. For now.

"Very well." He said. "You'll come to understand that more intimately once you take your place in the Gojo clan."

Murmurs of agreement followed afterwards, mostly from your aunts and other members of the Gojo clan. As for Sayaka, she only blinked slowly. A small tilt of her head. Nothing more, but you could see that it was a sign of approval from her.

You dipped your head politely, not submitting, but choosing not to engage with the provocation. You’d been raised to survive this kind of game. But from the corner of your eye, you saw Satoru relax slightly at your composure, his shoulders loosening as if to say, You did well.

Naoyuki gave a small nod of approval. Not of warmth—that was never his style—but of recognition. You had not faltered.

But you knew this wouldn’t be the last time you'd be expected to endure someone else’s standards. You watched as your father continued to converse with Naoyuki, but you could still feel a gentle gaze on you.

[technofeudalism]

In modern America, religious education is offered in private schools or in a homeschooling setting. Public education, by contrast, is secular, because the government is not in the business of sponsoring religious indoctrination. But in two cases the Supreme Court heard over roughly the last week, the justices appear ready to throw out public education as we know it and usher in a new era where tax dollars flow to religious schools and religion can dictate what is taught in public classrooms. When the decisions come down, public education may change forever. On Tuesday, the justices heard arguments in Oklahoma Statewide Charter School Board v. Drummond, a case over whether Oklahoma must fund a religious charter school that carries out religious instruction and hosts religious activities, including mass. Rather than consider this an affront to the separation of church and state, four Republican-appointed justices appeared outraged at the idea that a state would fund a charter school focused on language immersion or the arts but not one focused on religious instruction. Without ever acknowledging that the the First Amendment’s establishment clause (“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion”) prohibits government-sponsored religion, several expressed palpable anger that allowing only secular charter schools was a form of anti-religious discrimination. “All the religious school is saying is ‘Don’t exclude us on account of our religion,’” Justice Brett Kavanaugh said. “If you go and apply to be a charter school and you’re an environmental studies school, or you’re a science-based school, or you’re a Chinese immersion school, or you’re a English grammar-focused school, you can get in. And then you come in and you say, ‘Oh, we’re a religious school.’ It’s like, ‘Oh, no, can’t do that, that’s too much.’ That’s scary.” He continued: “You can’t treat religious people and religious institutions and religious speech as second-class in the United States… And when you have a program that’s open to all comers except religion… that seems like rank discrimination against religion.” [ ... ] This case alone will be a bombshell if the court mandates that states begin funding religious schools through their charter school programs. But this term, the Supreme Court is poised to deliver a one-two punch. Last week, the court heard arguments in Mahmoud v. Taylor, in which it considered whether religious parents could opt their kids out of lessons that did not conform with their beliefs. Again, the GOP-appointed majority appeared ready to side with the plaintiffs and allow religious parents to pull kids from the classroom when material they object to is taught—a policy that threatens to create a backdoor through which religious parents have veto power over elements of the curriculum and classroom discussion.  In any school that cannot accommodate children leaving the classroom and being provided alternate materials, the religious preferences of a minority seem destined to dictate the curriculum for all. The likely result is the wide elimination of LGBTQ content. Teachers may fear answering a question about a gay politician, for example, or even displaying a picture of their same-sex partner on their desk. If the justices decide in the next few months to allow religious opt-outs in public schools and the creation of religious charter schools, it’s hard to see how public education will not change profoundly. In many districts, together the decisions would likely mean the only publicly-funded school options would be either explicitly religious or circumscribed by the religious preferences of certain parents.

[fi1nn]

after a long long time Fiin is finally here!! (ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ

Actually Fiin is an OC from an RP discord server and was based on me (obviously things have changed and we are totally different people, but to not be confused, I am Finn and they are Fiin).

They dont care about pronouns so it can be really confusing for some people (sorry for u too if ur confused when I write about him).

Born in the Sunset Savannah, she was abandoned in an orphanage and fortunately adopted by loving parents, saving her from an awful situation.

He then moved to the Queendom of Roses and went to school.

However due to some circonstances they were homeschooled until they received his letter to NRC

Her UM allows her to cut the flow of magical energy for a while, until its restored. It doesn't work on everyone as the more the mage is powerful the harder it will be too cut. Also it drains her a lot of energy so she tends to avoid using it (also if you could help me find the name of their um its would really help≡(▔﹏▔)≡)

She LOVES cute things like REALLY. if they think ur cute, you got some real privilege, she will dotes on you like your the most precious thing in his eyes.

However, there are some exceptions, most of the time he will hate you until they start to like you, so a single misstep would be terrible.

(I think and actually hope that in his third year they will start to open up and act more friendly to people).

AND THATS SOME GOOD TRANSITION TO HER RELATIONSHIP CHART

On the discord server they were shipped with jade (cus he is magnificient obvsly) but Im still unsure if I would still ship them

idia is his closest friend but sometimes in her dream she sees two people who she would call their bsf (hes quite confused when he wakes up cus there nobody they know that looks like them)

some relationships would change BUT floyd and fiin would always hate each other(even if they will warm up to each other but shhhhh they will never admit it)

and finally here some doodles of him (～￣▽￣)～(～￣▽￣)～

hope you will like them (*￣3￣)╭(*￣3￣)╭

and sorry if there's any mistakes (￣﹏￣；)

if you want more info on them dont be afraid and ask me (I think its the most completed oc I have (⓿_⓿))

[rabbitxxhole]

World: Ravenwood 🐦‍⬛ He lives in a mansion with his "cousin" and his servants/maids.

Studies: degree in biology 🧪 When he was little he got sick very often, because of that he became a scientist. He is obsessed with prolonging life and lessen the pain of others.

More info:

Living in luxury doesn't make him a bad person towards others. He loves helping those in need (even if it's just for the prestige😅);

Loves antiques;

His favorite music is classical;

He would have loved to lived in the 19th century;

Whenever he can, he loves to throw balls, dinners, parties;

He had to have a leg amputated due to a bad fall in his teenager years. It was Elspeth who saved him.

World: Ravenwood 🐦‍⬛ She lives with his "cousin", in one big mansion.

Studies: Homeschooling In her childhood, his cousin always taught her what he had learned at school.

More info:

Her best friend is Joséphine - one of her cousin's maids. She loves to walk through the mansion's gardens with her.

She prefers to wear vintage clothes, although she tries to modernize, sometimes. But she loves lace, big and flowing dresses - it's all bc of the class from centuries ago.

When she goes to a ball, it's for the music and fashion tips, and not the people.

She doesn't really like crowds and people in general - makes an exception for Joséphine, prefers books and plants.

She has a tense relationship with his cousin (of the type: this room will catch fire if we are alone). For cousin, she is fierce.

She loves ballet, and practices only alone. So only the most silent soul can, from time to time, see her dancing in her room.

!!! warning: don't be fooled by this angelic appearance.

World: Ravenwood 🐦‍⬛ One of Prometheus's maids and best friend of Elspeth.

Studies: Homeschooling Thanks to Elspeth.

More Info:

She is one of the maids who has the deepest relationship with the Steins - she is like their protégé.

Having a family is her big dream.

It's not because she's a maid, but she really loves cooking and baking, it's therapy for her and she believes it's a way to show love to others. - other hobbies: embroidery, crochet and horse riding.

She helps the poorest people in any way she can. Even though she is afraid to go to the asylum, she sometimes helps in the kitchen there.

She is superstitious. - she believes the asylum is haunted - Olive Specter always tries to do a reading to her, but she always runs away. haha

[gloomuri671]

It's His Eyes

Sae Itoshi x Reader

Warning: smut, fingering, masturbation, noncon, first smut writing

Masterlist Next Chapter

Dear Diary,

It's his eyes.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul and I'd like to agree. Maybe that's why I'm in love with positions where I can see into his.

I saw him today while we passed each other in the hall. It was a brief moment, but we made eye contact. That single moment made my whole day.

My best friend, Sae Itoshi. We met in High School when he came to play in our country's team. It's too bad he'll have to stop playing with them when he's 18. I'll miss him. Teaching him our language wasn't as hard as his coach told me it would be. Maybe it's because Sae doesn't listen to the coach that much. Making plays based on "gut feeling" and just going with the "flow."

Maybe that's why we're good friends? Because I don't fit in as much as he does. It's the usual story, the homeschooled book worm prefers to step away from crowds because she's not comfortable. Yet Sae, who blends in well despite coming from a whole different country, would rather stick with me instead of his teammates at lunch. "They're too loud," he told me. "I know that for sure," I laughed. He ruffled my hair and looked over my shoulder. "They fuck in chapter thirteen," he said. I gasped and jumped, "I KNEW IT!" But then it occurred to me... "You spoiled it for me, you dork!" Maybe he hung around me more because I help him with our language? It helped me learn his a lot better anyways, so we're helping each other. "Wait you read?" I asked out loud. Sae gave me a look and flashed me his Kindle. My smile widened and I tackled him without a second thought.

Oh

But Sae...

Please forgive me.

I'm just a girl. Your eyes, they shine like diamonds in my dreams and we girls just love our jewels. In my dreams, you watch me as I play with myself. I never cease to shiver under your cold gaze. It's hard not to. Stroking myself - edging myself. "Please, please, please," I whispered.

"What?" You asked while scoffing, "I'm not a mind reader Y/n. You have to tell me what your asking for." So close! I'm so close! But I know my fingers can't reach the spot I barely graze as well as you could. Just the knowledge of that makes me go cold and miss my high. Yet it brings back a certain want and desire. "Touch me please!"

Slowly, you'd walk towards me ever so slowly talking your time. The anticipation, the need to have you here. Inside me instead of myself.. It gets me going. Waiting. Yet when I'd stop, you would too. So I don't, I don't stop. Your name runs off my tongue like a mantra. "I need you please," I begged. Your beautiful blue eyes never looked away from me, as if you knew what they do to me.

Yet when I'm finally at the edge about to tip off, you look away. You look down at me playing with myself. "No no no no," I whined, "Look at me! Please!" You don't by the way. You stare down at her instead. "I am," you claimed, "You're so beautiful." You fell on to your knees and kissed the inside of my thigh. "So beautiful." Finally, you look back up at me. My breath shakes then it leaves me. You're so handsome down there.

"Y/n."

Just like that, I'm woken from my day dream. "You okay? You zoned out on me." I take my eyes off the whiteboard in front of me and look into... Those dangerously beautiful eyes that haunt my days and lonely nights. Sae Itoshi, my desk mate in college. My best friend, one of my only friends actually.

I noticed I was staring and cleared my throat. "Sorry about that," I said, "These are the phrases Mr. Demetri gave me to go over with you..." Like nothing happened, we went over the next assignment in language arts. My fantasy long forgotten.

Forgive me, Sae. I can't stop thinking about you.

P.S.

Should I make it a series?

- Levina

[heylorrain]

A proper apology

🔞❤️‍🔥 NSFW // MDNI 🔞❤️‍🔥

⚠️ Sebastian Sallow x F! reader⚠️ Spicy content ahead

Full pic on my Ao3 and Poipiku 🐍 Ominis’ version

“Look at yourself. I am doing this to you. You’re mine. No one else's.” You couldn't tear your gaze away from the mirror as he made you his.

Sebastian Sallow, the boy who had captured your heart in 5th year, was now just a memory. After everything that had happened with his uncle and the relic, you couldn't bring yourself to continue with your relationship. He spent one year in Azkaban, paying for his crimes before finally being released.

But 6th year at Hogwarts just wasn't the same without him. The classes felt dull and lifeless without his charming wit and adventurous spirit. The Undercroft, where you had shared countless secret conversations and stolen kisses, now felt hauntingly empty. 

Then, in 7th year, he returned. Rumors spread like wildfire about why he had seemingly transferred to homeschool - some said it was to help his sister Anne catch up on her studies. But only you and Ominis knew the truth behind his absence - the pain and guilt of what he had done.

As you watched him from across the Great Hall, your heart still ached for what could have been if things had gone differently. You missed him. You wanted to run to him and tackle him with a never ending hug, and fill every freckle in his face with your kisses.

But then, as the memories came flooding back, you remembered. You've written to him every single day for an entire year. Each letter carefully crafted and sent with hope and longing. And yet, every one of them was returned to your hands with a familiar red stamp: rejected by the recipient. 

He took a seat next to Ominis, not even sparing a glance in your direction. His gaze, or lack thereof, felt like a heavy brick wall crushing down on you. You stood up from the table, completely abandoning your untouched dinner. You needed to be alone. To escape the suffocating anxiety that was building inside of you. He was so close, yet so far away.

Leaving the Great Hall with a calm facade, tears begin to flow freely as soon as you're out of sight. The haunting image of him sitting mere inches away from you is burned into your mind. 

Seeking refuge in the abandoned Haunted Toilets, typically reserved for Peeves, you let out all of your pent-up emotion in a torrent of tears. The grimy, cracked walls amplified your sobs, sending painful echoes reverberating through the empty bathroom.

"Why does it still hurt?" You cried to yourself, the weight of your longing for Sebastian crushing down on your heart. You could feel his absence like a physical ache, You yearned for his warm touch, the gentle caress of his hands, and the familiar scent that always comforted you. Every aspect of him felt like a distant memory that only intensified the pain in your soul.

The door creaked open behind you, and there he was. Sebastian stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted by the moonlight streaming in from the window. The light played across his freckles, turning them into shimmering specks of gold. He watched you crumble before him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes bore into you, demanding an explanation. 

"Tell me, NOW." Sebastian demanded, his voice hard and unforgiving.

You couldn't believe it. After a whole year of ignoring your letters, worries, and heartache, those were the first words that came out of his mouth?

"What do you want me to tell you, Sallow?" you spat back at him, anger bubbling up inside of you. You violently wiped away the tears that had escaped down your cheeks. 

Sebastian's eyebrows furrowed in concern as he looked at you skeptically, his arms uncrossing as he took a step closer. 

"You don't look fine to me," he said softly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress. "You know you can tell me anything. We may not be together anymore, but I still care about you."

We may not be together anymore, but I still care about you. The hypocrisy. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, reminding you of the love that was once there between you two.

"What do you want from me, Sallow?" You spat out his name with venom, your voice trembling with emotion. "I gave you everything in our 5th year. My time, my patience, my loyalty, my devotion. What else do you wish to take from me? I'm here at Hogwarts, alone, ignored by you while Ominis is probably already waiting for me in the Undercroft to hear my sad thoughts for the millionth time." Tears welled up in your eyes again, threatening to spill over onto your swollen cheeks.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, making it feel like a finality. You heard the lock turning, sealing you both inside the small room and shutting out the rest of the world. The air between you two felt thick and suffocating, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. 

He prowled towards you with the quiet, calculated movements of a wolf stalking its prey in the cover of night. His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger, and you could feel his gaze raking over your trembling form. A shiver ran down your spine as he continued to close the distance between you, his steps almost silent on the humid stone floor. 

"Do not come any closer Sallow" You warned, pointing your wand at him. The point of your wand hummed with energy, ready to unleash its magic at your command.

“Do it” Sebastian growled through clenched teeth “Curse me, Y/N. I don't give a damn. After everything I went through in Azkaban, do you think you can hurt me any further?. “ Your trembling wand pinched his chest as he kept walking towards you.

 “Do you?” His voice boomed off the walls, echoing in your ears. 

“I rotted in that hellhole for a year. I was utterly alone, without Anne or Ominis or you. I knew I deserved everything that happened to me. But most of all, I deserved to be left by you. You deserve better than me. You deserve someone better not a-” He choked on the word before spitting it out with disgust- “murderer.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words pierced your heart, but you refused to let them fall.

“I pushed you away because I thought I could never earn your love again,” he continued, his voice breaking with every word. “When I was in Azkaban, when I was losing my grip on reality, all I could do was beg in my head to hear your voice, to smell your scent, to taste you one last time. But I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve you. I still don’t. ” The pain and regret in his voice were palpable.

With a sharp intake of breath, you closed the distance between you and Sebastian. The sound of your palm striking his cheek echoed through the walls.

How dare he? How dare he confess that you deserved more, a better man? The anger burned inside you as you thought about all the letters he had ignored, the anguish, tears, sorrow, and love that he had chosen to disregard. 

"I'll stand by you through this, and in all our other lives, Sebastian Sallow. But if you choose to delve deeper into the dangerous world of Dark Arts, pushing me away as you go down a path towards self-destruction, do not expect me to follow. I love you too much to watch you fall apart." Your words were laced with equal parts passion and desperation, a final plea for him to see reason before it was too late.

With a heavy heart, you began to turn away, your steps slow and hesitant. As you clicked the lock open, ready to exit the bathroom and leave this tense encounter behind you, a sudden force seized your waist and yanked you back inside. The sound of your sharp intake of breath was drowned out by the thud of the door closing behind you.

"You're not going anywhere," Sebastian's voice was low and rough with emotion, "not before I give you a proper apology." 

He lifted you up and pinned you against the door with ease, his strong hands gripping your sides firmly. Your own hands instinctively reached up to cling to his neck, fingers digging into his skin as if seeking reassurance. 

Your lips collided in a violent and heated kiss, the passion between you both exploding like a firework. Your teeth clashing against his, causing the taste of metal to run across your lips. The intensity of the moment consumed you as you pulled, pushed, and shook him, unable to control your desire for this man. You didn't know what you wanted to do with him, but you just needed him, desperately.

 “Sebastian, I-” 

“Shut your pretty little mouth.” Your words were cut off by his rough command. 

As you kissed, your fingers traced over the soft strands of his hair, relishing in the familiar sensation. It had been so long since you had felt his touch, and you had missed it dearly. The scent of him filled your senses, a mix of wood and fresh cut grass that was uniquely him. His breath was sweet as honey and seemed to wash over you like a warm embrace. Memories flooded back as you savored the moment. 

“Let me devour you...please.” Sebastian’s tone was like that of a wild animal, asking permission to feast on its prey. It was almost pathetic how much he craved you.

But as he moved in for another kiss, you turned your cheek and whispered in his ear:

“No. Apologize first.”

Sebastian was determined to earn that apology. His sharp gaze met yours as he carefully set you down on your feet, his movements deliberate and purposeful. 

He kneeled before you and his head got lost in the folds of your skirt. As if seeking absolution, he began to worship every inch of skin above your knees with his lips. each kiss like a sweet offering of repentance.

Slowly, his kisses trailed up your thighs, inching higher and higher until they reached your inner thighs. You could feel the heat emanating from your core, begging for more. And Sebastian was all too willing to give it.

With rough hands, he parted your legs and pressed himself against you, feeling the intense heat radiating from your entrance. He couldn't resist any longer and continued to trail his kisses higher and higher until he buried his nose between your soaked panties. The sensation caused you to moan loudly, unable to contain yourself. 

His strong hands traveled to your hips, pushing you against the wall for support as your legs threatened to give out under the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through your body. And in that moment, with Sebastian's lips and hands worshipping every inch of you. 

With a careful tug of his teeth, he removed your lace panties and let them drop to the floor at your feet, leaving you bare and exposed. 

Your body responded instinctually, reaching out to grip his head and guide him to where you needed him most. His tongue was like a delicately placed brush, painting slow and deliberate strokes across your sensitive flesh as he savored the sweet taste of your arousal. Your hips began to sway in time with his movements, rolling forward and back in an erotic rhythm. Your knees clenched tightly around his head, holding him in place as he worshipped you with his mouth.

Each flick of his tongue sent shivers coursing through your body, causing you to moan uncontrollably. As the passion built and your bodies intertwined, beads of sweat formed on your skin, adding to the intense heat radiating between you. The bathroom mirrors were steamed up from the steamy encounter, the only source of light being the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. 

Your moans warned Sebastian that you were nearing your limit, he only seemed to be spurred on by the challenge. With his strong, calloused hand, he traced a path down your body, his touch sending shivers of anticipation coursing through your veins. 

You couldn't help but twitch in response, eager for what was about to unfold. He then slowly, tantalizingly, slid his index finger inside your warm and inviting body, causing you to let out a feral growl of pleasure. 

This was a sensation he had only given you once before - before everything fell apart. Before the fifth year intervened and brought chaos into your relationship. Before the cursed relic came between you. Before the painful breakup that tore your hearts apart. And now here you were, reunited and rediscovering the passion that still burned between you.

Every nerve in your body was on high alert as the sensations from his touch washed over you. This wasn't like your first time with him at the dimly lit Undercroft, this was something else entirely; a chaotic and wild frenzy of desire. 

He pushed his index finger in and out of your entrance in a perfect rhythm, each thrust causing your walls to tighten around him. The sound of his voice, deep and almost demonic, made you let out a loud cry 

"After all this time...you're still so tight for me, Y/N," you heard Sebastian growl, his words laced with possessiveness and hunger.

You were wild and unapologetic, a naughty young woman who reveled in the forbidden pleasure of rocking your hips against your loved one. Sebastian, the man who had pushed you away for almost a year, was like a drug to you. You couldn't resist his touch, his alluring presence. It was like coming home after a long journey. 

As he slipped two fingers inside you, you gasped in ecstasy.

"You're taking me so good, my love." You gasped as Sebastian added a third finger, filling you completely. 

The sensations in your G Spot were intoxicating, sending shivers of pleasure through your body as your walls tightened around his fingers. You reached your climax and fell to your knees, still trembling with desire for him.

With a soft cry, you pulled him out of you slowly, savoring every moment of pleasure before he slipped away from you. Your body ached for more, but even in the absence of his touch, you could still feel the lingering effects of his fingers inside you. It was a bittersweet ache that only he could soothe.

He raised his hand to his lips, savoring the lingering essence of your orgasm and the wetness that coated them. 

A smile played on his lips as he whispered, "Your taste hasn't changed a bit, my love." 

He couldn't resist any longer and dove in to kiss you on the humid floor. Your legs welcomed him eagerly, wrapping around his waist as your bodies molded together. 

You could feel his cock throbbing painfully hard against his clothes, a testament to his desire for you. The stain of his pre-cum, evidence of how much he wanted you, had made an appearance earlier as he went down on you. Your inner thigh still glistened with it. 

Before things could get too heated on the floor, he pulled away abruptly.

"Get up," he commanded. "You're too delicate to be fucked on the floor, dear." In a heartbeat, he was on his feet and effortlessly lifting you up off the ground. He pressed you against the sink, making you face the mirror so you could watch every moment of what was about to happen next.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, a blood-curdling scream threatened to escape your lips. 

Your hair was a tangled mess, strands sticking out in all directions as if they had been struck by lightning. And your blouse - which one were you even wearing? Blinking, you realized that Sebastian must have taken it off of you without you even noticing. Thank Merlin your bra was a decent one, its deep red hue matching perfectly with Sebastian's favorite color. Though now, it felt like a symbol of his possession over you. Your reflection seemed almost unreal, as if you were looking at a stranger who had been ravaged by desire and abandoned by all sense of control.

“Look how beautiful you are,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. His hand gently caressed your cheek as he gazed at you with adoration. “Look at yourself. I am doing this to you. You’re mine. No one else's.” His words sent a thrill of excitement through your body. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the mirror as he made you his, his hands exploring every inch of your bare skin. 

Your lips parted to speak, but before any words could escape, you felt his hard length pressing against your ass. 

He noticed your hesitation and spoke softly, “Tell me, what is it?” Your eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror, filled with longing and desire.

Without another thought, you looked over your shoulder at him, silently pleading for more. You wanted to feel his warmth, his body pressed against yours. You've missed him and he could see that in your eyes. As you stood there almost naked and vulnerable, he remained fully dressed.

He stepped away from you, not breaking eye contact in the mirror. 

Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress himself. First came his cloak, sliding off his shoulders with ease. Then, with just two fingers, he released his tie and looped it around his neck. Next went his vest and suspenders, each piece discarded with a practiced grace. 

You couldn't tear your gaze away as he stripped down before you, watching every movement in the reflection of the mirror.

With only his pants remaining, his arousal stood tall and hard before him. He closed the distance between you and began to kiss the nape of your neck, trailing his hands over every inch of your exposed skin. As he reached behind you to knot his loosened tie around your wrists, you trembled with anticipation.

His warm breath danced across your ear and the sensitive skin of your neck as he moved closer. The scent of him enveloped you, sweet and intoxicating.

"I miss the way you say my name, love," he purred as he wrapped his hands around your tightly bound wrists and pulled you closer to him. His voice was like a velvety whisper. "Say it."

 You hesitated for a moment, unable to resist getting lost in the reflection of his intense gaze. His piercing eyes seemed to see straight through you, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. 

He pressed his cock against your closed thighs, teasing and tormenting you with each subtle movement. A bead of precum escaped from the tip of his member and dripped between your legs, igniting a deep ache within you. His throbbing erection came tantalizingly close to your folds, tempting and teasing you further. 

Desperately wanting to catch a glimpse of him, you dared to look down but he quickly tugged on the tie that bound your wrists together. The sensation made you moaned as he held you in place.

“Say my name first”.

“Sebastian” You whispered in a very low voice. 

He shoved his cock closer to your entrance, brushing your clit.

“Louder” 

“Sebastian” - A little higher. 

“You can do better than that”

"S-Sebastian, please-" 

The sound of your breathless pleading was music to Sebastian's ears.Your voice quivered with need and anticipation, the same plea you had made when you lost your virginity to him. 

He pressed himself against your back, pushing you against the cold marble sink. His strong hands grasped your hips, spreading your buttocks apart. Thanks to all the skilled work he had done with his tongue and fingers earlier, he had no trouble penetrating you in a heartbeat.

A primal growl escaped your chest as he began to thrust his hips slowly against yours. Your core eagerly welcomed him, craving his touch. Every thrust sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your walls clenching tightly around him in ecstasy.

The sounds of your wetness mingled with the sound of skin slapping against skin as he drove into you over and over again. The heady scent of sex filled the air, making your head spin and your senses reel. With every movement, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, until finally you tumbled over, crying out his name as waves of pleasure washed over you.

“F-Fuck, you’re so tight, my love” Sebastian groaned, his voice strained with desire. 

You whimpered in ecstasy as he maintained a firm grip on your restrained wrists, his other hand skillfully undoing the clasp of your red lace bra with one hand. The delicate fabric fell away, revealing your breasts to him. They bounced and swayed with each thrust of his hips, drawing his gaze to your hardened pink nipples. Without hesitation, he swung you around and carried you into one of the closed stalls, never breaking contact with your body as he sucked on your sensitive peaks. The sensation was like a slow burn, building up until it consumed your entire being. 

With a firm hand, he pushed the stall door closed behind you, trapping you against the cold wooden surface. His strong arms lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he devoured your lips with his own. The heat of his body pressed against yours, igniting a fire within you.

“I’ll fuck you in every possible corner in Hogwarts, do you understand me?”

His hands roamed over your body, drawing gentle circles on your breasts before squeezing them and eliciting a moan of pleasure from you. He couldn't resist the taste of you any longer and eagerly sucked on your skin, savoring every moment of finally being able to have you. Just when you thought he would change positions again, he lowered you down a bit, and with an abrupt move he claimed you as his own, pulling your body inside of him. 

A sharp moan escaped your lips as Sebastian guided your weight. Every movement was under his control - how you entered him, how you exited him. As you looked down, you saw your glistening pussy eagerly welcoming his hard cock, sliding in and out of you with each thrust. Your hot juices threatened to splash against his lower stomach, evidence of the intense pleasure between you. 

Your vision blurred as he consumed you, making it difficult to focus on the sight of him thrusting into your soaking wet pussy. You instinctively reached out and grabbed onto his back, digging your nails into his skin as you moaned in ecstasy. Resting your chin on his shoulder, you were able to catch a glimpse of his reflection in a small mirror positioned perfectly in front of you. The defined muscles of his back flexed and strained with each powerful movement, adding to the intensity of the moment. As he continued to penetrate you, his perfectly round and smooth ass tensed and relaxed, driving you closer to the edge. 

Sebastian looked over his shoulder and caught you watching him.His eyes locked with yours, a wicked grin spreading across his lips before he resumed his sensual assault on your body. 

"Take my cock," Sebastian growled, his voice thick with desire. "Take it all in. You belong to me, now and always. You’re mine."

You surrendered to his words, feeling a rush of pleasure coursing through your body as he thrust deeper inside you. Your nails dug into his back, leaving red marks in their wake as you lost yourself in the intense sensation.

With each moan and gasp that escaped your lips, Sebastian's own sounds grew louder. His arousal building until he couldn't hold back any longer. With one final, primal grunt, he released himself inside you, filling you with his warm seed.

Both of you collapsed into each other's embrace, your bodies forming a perfect fit, you could feel his warmth radiating against your skin. The intensity of your hug made it seem as though the world had faded away. Your legs were wobbly and weak, but his strong grip held you steady. His chest rose and fell rapidly against yours, the sound of his racing heartbeat filling your ears. It was a familiar sound that you had longed to hear again.

He held onto you tightly, facing you with an intense gaze as if he never wanted to let go. His nose buried into the soft skin of your neck, taking in your scent, and his arms wrapped around you like a protective shield.

As your bodies intertwined in a warm embrace, his breath tickled your ear as he whispered those familiar words.

"Ever thy. Ever mine. Ever ours." You melted into him, gazing into his hazelnut eyes, now filled with sincerity and regret. It was the same quote you had signed each letter you sent him with, a constant reminder of your love for him. 

"Y-You read them? You-" Your voice trembled with emotion as you tried to comprehend his actions.

He had read them all, despite wanting to push you away and make you forget about him. A pang of regret shot through his voice as he continued, "I wanted to break your heart and make you hate me, to erase myself from your life. And for that, I am deeply sorry. I have read every word, every letter, written with nothing but love and anguish from your hand and soul." Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized how much he had suffered silently, just like you.

Tears glistened in his eyes as he repeated, "I-am-sorry," his voice cracking with raw and intense emotion. 

You gently pressed your lips against his swollen ones, the warmth of your touch bringing a sense of comfort to his beautiful face adorned with scattered freckles.

"You're forgiven." You whispered softly.

👉 It was Sebastian's turn >:)

👉 And in B&W because I did not feel like coloring today

[snowsinterlude]

the princess up in the tower.

(peacekeeper!coriolanus x reader)

summary: peacekeeper coriolanus was the only one capable of making you leave your house, where the commander kept you closed, saying it was too dangerous out there.

c.w: gentleman, peacekeeper coriolanus, timid reader, a bit of rapunzel references, fluff, coriolanus protecting and encouraging you, reader with social anxiety.

your father was the commander of the peacekeepers on district 12. thus being explained, he was extremely over protective of you to a point your own mother cringed about it.

c'mon now. you were eighteen. you didn't even know how to socialize without getting embarassed for anything you said. what did he wanted from you? you didn't had friends, you were homeschooled, the only people you were allowed to look or talk was the peacekeepers that he trained when you went to give him his lunch.

in one of those times, you met coriolanus snow. the new peacekeeper, send there for cheating on the hunger games or something like that. you thought he was pretty, and you hated yourself for stuttering when he helped you out.

"miss? is everything okay?" he asked you, offering his hand to get you to stand off the ground since you fell when you bumped into a peacekeeper who was running too fast to say sorry.

"y-yes." you said, taking his hand on yours as you got up, stumbling a bit as he used his other hand to grab your waist when you almost fell again. "i'm s...sorry. i seem to be a little clumsy today." you said, looking at his chest rather than his eyes.

"it's okay. you don't have to say sorry, everyone get's a bit clumsy one time or another." he said, flashing you the prettiest smile you've ever seen, and you swore you felt your eyes shining at the sight of his pearly white teeth. "Is there something you're looking for? i don't see a motive for such a pretty lady like you to be here."

you gagged a bit at the compliment. it was the first time a boy your age said such sweet things to you. and probably the first time you talked to somebody your age.

"yes, yes. i am looking for my dad"

"your dad is..?"

"the commander." you said, and he nodded positively at you.

"you can follow me if you want company" he said, and you nodded, following him.

you've never seen a conversation flow so naturally. he was so charming and pretty that when you both arrived at your dad's study you felt sad.

"so, me and the other guys are planning on going to the hob on sunday to, you know, de-stress a bit. would you like to come with us?" he asked, a kind smile on his pretty face.

"i-i can't, my father wouldn't allow it and if he found out he'd probably punish you for inviting me, and-" you started to explain, your words tangled on one another nervously as you gesticulated, trying to say it was not his fault, but rather your dad's will.

"hey, hey. calm down" he placed his hand on your shoulder, the touch of his hand shivering on your skin. "it's okay. your father doesn't need to know about it."

"what..?" he gave you an audacious smile, and you could feel your heart melting alway from it.

"i'll wait for you 9:00 p.m. you need to calm down a bit." he said, charmingly. "luckily i know how to calm your nerves down."

you didn't even get to say anything. he left, running away with other peacekeepers that called him. he waved his hand to you, and by the evening you were still extremely anxious with what you decided to do.

hands on the window, you gulped harshly and looked down. snow was there, waving at you. you already drank a lot of water to calm down, anxious to the brim as you thought about the many possibilities of your dad finding out.

you breathed in, jumping to his arms and holding up a scream only for him to catch you right on the spot, just like the long haired princess's boyfriend would do to get her out of the tower.

"i can't believe it. oh, what am i doing? he's my dad, i can't betray him like that, i'm a terrible daughter, i-" you panicked, and he chuckled lightly, putting you on the ground.

"you're eighteen, princess. you need to come out of your shell." he said, taking your hand and guiding you away.

the entire path to the hob was silent. you even questioned yourself as to why you were going with him. it was dangerous! you met him only three days ago!! are you crazy??? what if he's going to kill you because your father made him to push-ups one day???

all of your worries went magically away the moment you stepped into the hob, the lights and the music filling your eardrums as you timidly entered the local and looked everywhere with curiosity, taking in the information that you did actually got out of your room and were in such a festive place!

after at least two drinks of posca, you actually loosened up a bit, dancing with an entire group of people and singing all the songs along, laughing happily as the dancing group get on changing partners. then, your partner was coriolanus now.

with a hand on his shoulder and other on his hand, you smiled brightly at him.

"snow!" you beamed, starting to dance again as he tried to keep up with you.

"princess." he smiled, twirling you around the room and even putting you up on the air.

"that- this is the best night of my life! thank you!!" you said, laughing loudly as you kissed his cheek. he felt surprised, letting your hands go as you started dancing again, until the moment you got up on the stage, dancing and singing your lungs out while he watched over you, making sure no one would come at you with bad intentions.

that was the first of the long list of the best nights coryo gave you. one after another, he made sure to keep you happy and treat you as a princess, all those times made you so happy having him in your life that the kisses you gave on his cheek were always getting closer and closer to his mouth.

then his hands were hugging your waist and you were up in the skies smiling and laughing into his lips. and he always took extra care for your father to not find out at the same time he earned your father's trust.

you were the happiest when you were with coryo, and that was the main motive you were always at your window, waiting for him night after night. and you always thanked all god's that supposedly existed for the chance they gave you to be happy.

the end ♡

[princess-of-thebes-bc]

Yandere Professor Hannibal Lecter x Female Reader

Chapter: Dog Days.

When your ex Professor Hannibal Lecter kidnapped you after you finished your school semester as his student, you were at first rebellious. Quite the fighter.

The first meal Professor Lecter cooked for you was none other than Oxtail Soup. He wouldn't let you feed yourself. That annoyed you.

Smiling, he used the spoon to fill it with the tasty liquid and held it to your lips. "Say 'ahh'.''

You blew into the spoon and it caused the hot water to splash onto the face of Professor Lecter.

He hissed in pain. He then put the bowl and spoon down. He slapped you hard across the face.

You were shocked. You clutched your face and felt a bruise forming on your cheek. No one ever raised their hand to you. Not even your own father.

"Listen, Bitch." Professor Lecter grabbed the bottom of your chin to make you look up at him. "I am trying my best and I will not tolerate disrespect."

For you whimpered as tears flowed down your eyes. How frightened you were of this man.

Professor Lecter's expression softened in pity and you think regret. He sighed as if he was tired. 

"Please cooperate." He held a spoonful of soup again. 

Slowly, you opened your mouth and sipped.

The next morning, you felt weird. You couldn't understand the feeling. It wasn't pleasant. It was, in fact, ugly. Your head hurt and it was spinning like a dark and creepy carousel.

Your throat itches and feels dry. The worst was your temperature. Both overly warm and then cold. Switching on and off. Causing you to be confused. You were sick.

Lecter wanted to make up for slapping you. He knew this was to be expected. I mean he did kidnap you and it was natural to be scared. He felt foolish for losing his temper.

But, his whole life he was respected. His parents spoiled him and would never refuse him. He was popular at school. And when he became an adult and then a successful Psychiatrist, he was always worshiped and respected.

He didn't like this new treatment.

He wanted you to love him back.

Lecter wanted to remove that chain you were wearing and live a normal life with him as his wife.

Well, he wants you to homeschool his future kids. Other than that, he wants a normal life.

Lecter had to wake early to go grocery shopping. He doesn't eat sugar. Only meat and vegetables.

He got the ingredients to make heart shaped pancakes.

He went to Pinterest to cook simple pancakes. He never cooked pancakes before and didn't want to screw it up. This was new to him. 

Lecter tried his best. He assumed it was okay. He added strawberries and powdered sugar. It looked decent.

He felt nervous. Normally, he was always confident in everything. With you, it was the opposite. He felt insecure. Oh, well. He shrugged his shoulders. Maybe it is because he loves you. In novels and movies, he read that people feel stupid all the time around their crush.

Taking the tray, he added soy milk and gummy vitamins. He walked down the stairs to the basement.

He saw you curled in bed. "Wake up, my dear. It is time to eat." Lecter announced in an authoritative voice.

When you didn't answer, he clenched his jaw in annoyance. The hard way again? So be it. Lecter settled down the tray on the expensive glass coffee table and walked over to you.

He ripped the blanket off your body. And to his surprise, you were still as a stone. That confused him. He felt your forehead and to his horror, you were burning up.

That caused his heart to pound in fear. You were sick! He then checked your pulse and opened your eyelid. A high fever you had. Lecter then covered you back with the blanket and went upstairs for medicine. 

Over the past two hours, Lecter tended to your every need. He gave you pain killers and fed you chicken soup instead. You got better.

But, still weak. Your ex Professor was currently sitting next to your bed pressing a wet rag against your forehead.

You poor thing. He thought. He held your hand lovingly and watched you. 

To his surprise, you began talking in your sleep. He blinked in curiosity. He didn't understand what you were saying at first. Now, he heard it loud.

"Mummy."

Ouch. You missed your mother. Lecter sighed. First you wouldn't accept his love, you reject him, he hits you, and now you are sick.

Everything was going wrong.

He is lost and doesn't know what to do.

Covering his face with his hands and resting his elbows on his knees, the stress and worry of your health caused something strange to him.

He felt tears sliding down his wrinkled face.

The thought of you dying was the worst thought. He cannot imagine you leaving him permanently. That was why he took you away in the first place.

"Why are you punishing me, Name?"

[am-i-interrupting]

The Interview | Vox x Alastor’s Child— OATSH

Summary: Being the daughter of both a famous radio show host and a serial killer lead to you being interviewed a lot throughout your life. This interview was different though. The host had something the others didn’t, charisma.

Warnings: none

You remember being shoved into the radio booth that was your fathers and being forced to answer all these questions about him, his life, and how you felt about police speculating your father was a murderer and whether or not you knew if that was true.

You were thirteen. You were grieving. You were forced to go from news station to news station to answer the same questions that you never knew the correct answers to.

Now you were in your early twenties. You wrote a book about what it was like to live with a murderer, dumbed down for the public and without all the things they’d find controversial. Like how you never saw anything wrong with what your father did, all those sentimental moments that piled up when you thought of him, how you slipped some poison in the drink of the man who killed him when you “interviewed” him for your book. No, none of that made it in.

You adjusted your skirt and looked at yourself in the window, making sure you looked the part of a sweet innocent girl.

A man walked into the room, demanding the attention of everyone with his perfectly styled hair, pressed suit, and loud footsteps. He looked around the room and when his eyes landed on you he broke out into a wide smile.

“Hello, my dear,” he said reaching for your hands. He cupped both of his around yours as he introduced himself.

“We’re about to go live in two minutes. I’m going to introduce you. You come in from the right, sit down right here, and then we’re just going to go through some of the questions I sent you. Although, we may stray from that to keep conversations flowing. Sound good?” He didn’t give you the time to answer as he nearly sprinted to set. “Places, everyone. Places.”

The cameras started rolling and you got to sit back for a moment and simply watch the man in his element.

“And welcome back!” he said. “Tonight, we have a very special guest. A girl born into a single parent home after the death of her mother and turned orphan after the death of her father, if you’ve been around as long as I have you’ve surely heard of her before and if you haven’t? Well, you shouldn’t be here. This is the night show, after all!

“Normally, I’d say welcome to our guest but just for tonight, I’ll take a lesson from the old radio and welcome our guest the way her father welcomed his. Dearly beloved, for your entertainment, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you the book world’s latest author,” he said your name as he walked towards the edge of the set, cameras following him.

He extended his hand for you to take as you walked up the steps. He led you to your seat.

When the pleasantries were done, the questions began. “So, tell me, what was it like being raised by a serial killer?”

“Well, I wish I could give you a simple answer but I’ve written a whole book about it. To spare you the long story, I’ll put it simply,” you began. “My father was good at pretending that nothing was wrong, that everything was normal and I believed it. He homeschooled me like he was. I did school work in his office and when he was done for the day we’d go home. I didn’t really have friends my age to tell me different.

“He had a friend. When I was a child, he’d take me to her house for us to have ‘girls days’ since my mother died during childbirth neither of us questioned it. Missing persons reports would be filed days after.”

“And this friend, did she ever suspect anything?” the show host asked.

“I wouldn’t know. I never got the chance to ask. She died in the 20s,” you told him.

“That must have been hard for you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“I can’t help but wonder, do you think your father killed her as well?” he asked.

You tensed. Your back now straight as a board and your hands itching to clench into fists at the mere thought. You took a slow breath.

“My father had a type. She was not his type,” you said, voice a bit hard just a bit too defensive. Your true accent coming out just the slightest instead of the polished voice your father taught you from such a young age.

“And what was his type?”

“It was mostly men. Sometimes women, but mostly men. Especially men who didn’t respect those of fairer means,” you said. “He thought himself chivalrous.”

“And what did you think?”

“I thought he was good intentioned,” you said, words practiced long ago. “My father was always very protective of people he viewed as defenseless.”

“Do you know what triggered this specific brand of protection?”

“I never got to meet my grandmother. His father made sure of that. You see, she was a black woman and he was a white man. It was bad for his image to have a child with her so eventually he made sure she would never tell anyone and my father made sure I would never have to meet him,” you explained. “I believe that through the killings he committed, he was making sure that no other person would have to face the wrath of an angry man without reason.”

“That is very insightful information,” he said before he continued on with the interview.

You were pulling on your jacket to leave when the interviewer came up to you.

“Allow me to walk you home,” he said.

“I’m simply here for advertisement,” you told him. “I don’t have a home here.”

“Then let me walk you to your hotel. It’s late, I’d hate for something to happen to you,” he insisted.

You turned towards him finally. “As the child of a serial killer, I can’t say those words comfort me.”

You spun around and walked out the door of the building but he still followed you. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“Your interview time is over,” you told him.

“I’m not trying to interview you,” he said. “I’m trying to understand you.”

“And why would you want to do that if not for some information to spin about me in your next news report?” you asked.

“I remember your father’s radio show,” he said. “I remember one day he was gone and the next day you were there. Thirteen years old, not even that much younger than I was, answering all these same questions.”

“Then you know how long I’ve answered them. That’s why I wrote the book,” you told him.

He shook his head and jogged a bit in front of you. “I remember thinking of how brave you had to have been and I just want to know the woman that brave girl has turned into.”

You stared at him for a moment, taking in everything about him. He was handsome, that much was for sure. You definitely understood why he was a show host. He had the looks for television and the charisma needed to hook an audience to go with it.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m pretty sure that’s a line my father used on his victims is all,” you said walking past him.

“Really? All that back and forth just for such a simple answer?” he asked.

“Call me careful,” you said with a wave over your shoulder.

“Paranoid is the word I’d choose.”

“Maybe you should be more cautious,” you told him, taking a moment to spin around and walk backwards to look at him.

When you faced forwards once more you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe radio is what you grew up with but the television was beginning to amuse you as well.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making my daughter morning baskets?

Okay so this has been going in circles for almost a month and I feel like I'm losing my mind, so getting external opinions.

I have 2 sisters, A and B. A is happily childfree, B has 2 kids, (6 and 2), I have 1 kid (1). We were all together at Christmas, and Sis A asked how daycare was going (we started doing part time daycare in September). I said it was good, I was getting the time to focus on work when I worked 3 10s the days my daughter goes to care, and then half days the 2 days she's home.

I also mentioned that I'd recently started doing morning baskets for her. My phrasing was something like 'I started doing this silly Pinterest morning basket thing, but it's actually working really well for us, so that's nice.' Sis B mentions that she's seen the idea, but didn't really think it would work for her. I said that makes sense, her mornings are different than mine (she is a SAHM and homeschools her 6 yo).

Conversation moved on to other things and I thought nothing of it, until after the holiday Sis A messages me that I was cruel to Sis B, bragging about making more money than her, and should apologize. I ask what she's talking about and she says the morning basket thing. I clarify that while some people do printables/coloring in their baskets, my kiddo is still eating crayons, so I'm literally taking a couple books and toys that she already has and putting them in the living room so that it's the first thing she sees in the morning. I've found that since there's only about an hour between waking and leaving for daycare, it's helpful to not have her drag every toy she has out for me to clean up later. When I said that my sister's mornings are different, I mean that she's staying home and also doing school/prek activities with her kids, so it's a very different flow of the day. I explained all of this to Sis A, who maintained that I was bragging about my income.

Concerned that I was the AH, I contacted Sis B, because I wanted to apologize even if it was just a misunderstanding. Sis B has no issue, says she's not discussed it with SIs A at all, and further that she assumed I meant her kids' school activities when I said her mornings are different (which is exactly right). Also, because Sis B's youngest is a year older than mine, a fair amount of my kid's toys are hand-me-downs from her, so she thinks the 'bragging about toys' comment it silly. Fair, honestly. I move on.

Until next time Sis A calls. 'Have you apologized to Sis B yet?' Telling her about our conversation and that she's the only one who wasn't on the same page has no effect, she maintains that Sis B is just 'feeling too shamed' to tell me how she really feels. She's now telling our extended family that I'm 'lording my wealth' over them both, and I've got aunts telling me I should apologize. But to whom? For what? AITA??

~~Example of a basket, in case info is helpful: stuffed dino, dino hotwheel car, a couple of books about dinosaurs, some blocks to round it out. This is all stuff that we have already, I'm just grabbing some things around a loose theme the night before.

What are these acronyms?

[sp00ky-scary]

Writing down ideas for a Monster High, not au or rewrite but I guess my own G4? Idk it's just vague ideas rn and entirely copy pasted from my notes app so if there are spelling or grammar errors no there's not :]

There's a lot so I'm hiding them

Monster High - Established as a high school (boarding so almost all the students live there) in the USA for teenage monsters to have community, complete their education (or get one if they never had one) (or just get one like a regular person if they're a monster who's born not turned/created), and learn more about the monster world.

Plot (kinda) - No specific main character but Draculaura, Clawdeen, and Frankie are equally important, Draculaura is president of the student council (both the oldest and youngest to be, she's over 100 but she's only a sophomore) and Clawdeen and Frankie are new students arriving during their sophomore year (Clawdeen already did her freshmen year at human highschool and Frankie was homeschooled for a year and has been put with their approximate age group). Plot mostly consists of school shenanigans and travelling places (except that's either school relevant or done during the holidays for the most part no travelling to Boo York like a week into the semester or anything like that). Also no high schoolers dealing with generational beef and all that, just focusing on school life and adventures with the occasional crazy plot.

Lagoona Blue - purple, blue, black, Latina and Asian (Japanese? Some of her g3 dolls have Japanese food and it gave me the idea, idk though), creepy cute, sharp teeth and huge eyes, always looks drowned/like she just got out of a body of water, gyaru influence, eats fish and other sea creatures IS NOT a cannibal it's simply how the food chain works, very go with the flow, lives with her mum whilst her dad and siblings are in Japan (assuming I keep that idea) (they aren't divorced her mum just had family stuff going on in her home country and Lagoona wanted to go and then somehow ended up at Monster High)

Spectra Vondergeist - 2000s scene queen, popular on MySpace before she died, died in a car crash probably, antagonist, desi (half, other half is white, also the half where she got the German last name from), purples, very monotone, runs an popular undead gossip blog that's mostly just rumours and lies and she feels no guilt over it

Howleen Wolf - into scene but is about 15 years late to it, total Spectra fangirl, pink, blue, orange, neon, childish, paw prints on everything, would be a kemonomimi if it weren't for the fact she is already a werewolf, she rly leans into the wolf thing though, Clawdeen's little sister

Clawdeen Wolf - fashion designer, rly into retro and vintage, specifically the 1990s, rly into thrifting, animal print, furs, browns, purples, gold, orangey pinks, plays with hairstyle a lot, sorta looks like she came out of a 90s magazine or music video, needs glasses to see (imagine being a werewolf and still needing glasses), played soccer as a kid

Cupid - skeleton from the 1950s, she's not literally Cupid or connected to the gods she's just really into romance, still runs a radio show, entirely vintage style down to like her hair and makeup routine (how does she have those when she's a skeleton? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯), is Cupid even her real name? who knows, pink, frills, red, white, rose gold or bronze idk, 40s-50s, hearts and feathers (still keeping some angelic elements)

Frankie Stein - not literally the child of Frankenstein but a scientist couple recreating Victor Frankenstein's work in order to create a child of their own (infertility? gay couple? incompatible species? idk), frazzled style, a little punk, school uniform vibes, black and white with pops of colour (blue and yellow, maybe pink, occasionally green), lightning/electricity motif, covered in piercings, tall and square

River Styxx - doesn't attend Monster High, pastel goth but also decora, would use whatever the monster equivalent of 2010s Tumblr is, not really bound by time

Toralei Stripe - British, desi, 1970s punk, singer, orange, black, clothes very torn and shredded, lots of layers, leather and plaid, thrifted, when she starts dating Clawdeen they do clothing diys and such together, temporary antagonist

Iris Clops - really 1960s-70s hippie type, flowy, greens and browns, a little bit of purple, swirls and psychedelic vibes, also a little mod, (keeping her g3 body type)

Draculaura - black, pink, white, the occasional yellow or pastel purple, gothic, lolita, sort of stuck in the Victorian era but with modern elements, skins pink because idk vampire weirdness or from her illness, dyes her hair (maybe IWTV vampire hair logic? then she'd be redying it frequently but that works to explain how it's always changing), her backstories to long but from late Victorian England, almost died of disease, Dracula turned her and then adopted her, her mother is missing, (she's still Taiwanese but very disconnected from her culture, more connected with Romanian culture as she lived there with Dracula for a few decades after her turning), she likes hats and umbrellas, puffy, bows, frills, short and round, in like every school club ever, except the gardening club, not that one

Cleo de Nile - from ancient Egypt but only entered the modern world recently, threw herself into modern clothing, very with the trends but keeps elements of ancient Egyptian culture, heavy makeup, golds, blues, aqua, orange, occasionally bronze, lots of accessories, sheer fabrics, shiny, highest of high heels, wears wigs, has bandages but clothes also mimic bandages, feels the need to prove herself and her wealth and status

Elissabat - turned in the 1980s, trad goth mixed with romantic goth, ran into Draculaura in the 1990s, purples and black, lacey, flowy, long, very covered, big boots, tall and pointy, elegant, did some acting as a human and vampire in the 80s and 90s under the name Veronica Von Vamp and developed a slight cult following before disappearing in the 2000s (attends Monster High after they accidentally find her on a drama club/class trip to Hauntlywood?)

Robecca Steam - steampunk, another one from the late 1800s, desi (kinda, she's a robot but she was designed to theoretically be because Hexiciah is), browns, blues, copper and bronze, metal and leather, harnesses, frills, a little masc, googles, hats, less rich Victorian, more working class

Venus Mcflytrap - literally just G3 Venus idk what to tell you

Honey Swamp - not too different from G1 but she's a MH student from the start, and her outfit is cuter (nothing against her G1 design she's one of my faves) cottagecore, flowery, pastels, greens and purples, into cinematography and gardening (in the gardening club with Venus? Dating Venus?)

Deuce Gorgon - finally a boy, punk mixed with grunge, almost the average alt teen boy in the 2000s but cooler, sunglasses, browns, oranges, greens, leather, snake skin (fake), spikes, metal but idk what metal, return of the snake mohawk, not actually the son of Medusa just the son of a female Gorgon, maybe she can be called Medusa anyway and it's like a joke that she's Medusa but not THE Medusa

Viperine Gorgon - Deuce's cool older cousin, makeup artist, not a student at Monster High (plot she helps out as the makeup artist with the drama club?), retro, boho, hippie, pinks and baby blue, a little yellow/cream, more snakey than Deuce because she's older, all her hair is snakes, paisley patterns

Skelita Calaveras - just G3 Skelita tbh, maybe not the magic though just because I don't really feel like incorporating magic

Heath Burns - that guy who wears branded sports wear all the time, orange, yellow, black, blue, burnt, fire, lava, yk that one concept art of g3 Heath, buzzed but with fire hair, fire elementals have regular hair and fire hair, his regular hair is shaved, I don't think this makes sense to non Australians but his outfits would kinda have eshay vibes, he's not one but he'd dress like one

Clawd Wolf - you know Troy Bolton? Like he does basketball and theatre basically, and it's like a little bit of a conflict but only because his schedule clashes often, ripped jeans, varsity jackets, t-shirts with musicals on them, basketball jerseys, sneakers like all the time no matter the occasion, sorta always looks like he just came from basketball practice or drama club (because he probably did), Clawdeen's twin

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ordinary Day

Isn’t it nice weather? Let’s take a short stroll and enjoy it.

This is part 16 of 20. We come close to the conclusion.

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13 I Part 14 | Part 15

Information has a way of spreading by word of mouth. Without a form, there is nothing to restrain them from travel, and from the details straying from the truth. By the end of the school day, Kon has already picked up on at least seven variations of the same story.

The disappearance of one Raven Crowley, and the aftermath of it.

She hadn’t attended class for some time now, hadn’t shown her face in public. A wind blew through the grapevine, supposed tea brewing. 

“I think she transferred. Didn’t really fit in here anyway. Probably at some all-girls place now.”

“No, no, she’s being homeschooled for safety reasons. The headmaster keeps her locked away in that tower and personally tutors her.” 

“I heard she’s dead. She Overblotted and went on a rampage in the woods. The dorm leaders had to suppress her and collect the body afterwards.”

He grips onto his textbooks harder, fingers digging into the leather-bound cover and spine. Kon is always anxious, but the whispers tug at his nerves, pulling them taut.

It doesn’t come from a place of concern, he knows. Gossip is gossip, meant to amuse and entertain. 

He wonders if he should confront them, ask them to stop--if they’d even listen to his pleas. 

Because no one wants a story’s end to be as sad as that…

Instead, he ducks behind a column and waits for the chattering group to pass. The debate grows heated, turns into betting and rough housing. Ugly, unpleasant sounds.

The thought occurs to him again. If he tries…

“Are you going to say something?”

Kon startles at the sudden question. 

He senses a figure beside him, but is too frozen with fear to turn his head, to see who it is.

From his periphery, he can glean glimpses of them. Auburn waves threaded with gold, a frilled gown colored as green as the springtime. A soft voice to belong to one of the rowdy mobs. It’s sweet yet flat, like a soda without the carbonation.

Who is this…?

His mouth won’t move to utter what he wants it to. 

“No? You won’t?” they ask. “Ah, you choose to observe then. You are wiser than you would appear to be. A story is just meant to be witnessed. To involve oneself is to meddle. The impartiality, ruined.”

Shock dislodges the knot in his throat. “Wh-What are you saying? The rumors floating around… I don’t think anyone would want that.”

“Talk is what they have, so they relish in it.  Action is difficult. Very few manage to scale the tower to witness the truth for with their own eyes. The chosen, the worthy.”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

There is a scoff.

“Perhaps not now, but in the future you may.”

He sees a hand extend, cupping the sunlight. It is sheathed in a billowing green sleeve, nothing like the NRC school uniforms.

“This is a day like any other. Please enjoy the mundaneness to its fullest. We do not know for certain how long this peace will stay with us.”

“You’re not a student,” Kon says weakly. Already, he is sweating up a waterfall on his forehead. “Who are you?”

In the response, a slight smile.

“Just a visitor passing through. Pay me no mind.”

“’Scuse me! Sorry! Comin’ through!”

A ghost outfitted in a mailman’s uniform weaves his way through the hallways of Octavinelle. He doesn’t so much as go around students as he was fazing through them. The only trace of him left behind is a slight chill in the torso, like an ice flower has just melted there.

The mail ghost launches itself through the Mostro Lounge doors.

It’s a busy night.

Students are seated at the booths and at the bar. Friends with friends, soaking up jazz and the aquatic ambience. Plates of seafood and colorful drinks, served under glowing jellyfish.

The conversation flows like water.

“They shipped her off to a lab to get tested. Or maybe she got kidnapped.”

“Nah, she’s in hiding somewhere.”

“She opened up a portal to another world and hopped into it.”

From the podium up front, Jade bows to the mail ghost.

“Welcome to the Mostro Lounge, honored guest,” he greets. “I’m afraid we are fully booked at the moment, so if you wish for a table, you will have to come back in 45 minutes’ time. Though--” Jade eyes the bag of mail hanging from the ghost’s body. “--I suppose dining was not in the cards from the start.”

“Just here for the usual mail delivery.” He reaches into his bag and produces several envelopes, fanning them out.

“Thank you for your service as always. I will receive them for Azul.”

The exchange is made, and the mail ghost continues on his route.

As soon as he vanishes, Jade allows his smile to relax.

The merman begins going through the envelopes. It’s a distraction, but preferable to paying mind to the swirling hearsay. It will only make him irritable.

Plain white, mostly bills or spam mail and advertisements. Hardly anything worth gracing their dorm leader’s desk.

Azul.

Jade frowns.

Since Azul had been whisked away to the emergency meeting, he has been more alert than usual. Jade notices it in the subtleties. His breaths, his glances, the way his fingers drum.

Whatever happened that day, it still bothers him.

He had “spoken” with the other dorm leaders, of course—but none of them knew much, not even Kalim, who claimed to have found her. “Not sure why she was in the woods, but all that matters is that she’s okay now. Maybe she just wandered and got lost?”

Wandering and lost. Those were apt descriptors for how she had looked that night she had stumbled into him. She was haunted then, small and shuddering in the glaring moonlight.

Jade dislikes not knowing, dislikes being kept in the dark.

He barely bats an eyelash until he comes to the final envelope. It doesn’t look like the others, with their formal business addresses and postage. Pitch black, with golden embellishes.

His name is written on it.

In handwriting that makes his heart stop.

“... What is this?”

He tears it open at once, retrieving the letter inside.

Jade,

I realize receiving this may be awkward, given our history. However, I still hope it finds you well.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting about many things. Our time together, our relationship... and also about myself and what it is that I’m seeking.

I haven’t been very brave or honest. I think I can admit that now, though it doesn’t leave me feeling good. It’s like when a baby bird first hatches from its egg. It can’t quite see the world clearly, and nor does it have feathers to shield its vulnerable body from the forces of nature.

I have something important to tell you. Too important to scrawl on paper. It must be said face-to-face.

The apple tree in the courtyard is in bloom. It’s so very beautiful this time of year. I wish I could stare at them forever and ever. In the language of flowers, apple blossoms can mean many things. Love, peace, rebirth, good luck... a long life too.

Let’s meet there, in the shade of the apple tree and under the cover of stars.

Tomorrow, right before the stroke of midnight.

I will give you my answer then.

Best regards,

Raven Crowley

Life at Night Raven College continues.

A single cog it may lack, but the mechanism continues to churn. There is a spot in the core that is empty, where the missing cog belongs. Still, the machine operates without its heart.

Another day comes and goes.

And in the highest room of the tallest tower...

Something goes bump in the dark.

Someone stirs.

[fandom-lover2]

My Sword Is My Shield, And I Shall Never Bend

Chapter Three - Too Young For This

Word Count - 2487

Chapter Two - A Gift And A Curse

Chapter Four - No Politics At The Table

Saiph breathed deeply, feeling the oxygen flow through every part of her body, making her feel lighter. Then, she released, her breath following the arrow.

Perfect bullseye.

She smiled, proud of herself.

“Nice one!” Jack called from his position on the stairs.

Satisfied with her practise for the day, she retrieved her arrow and added it to the quiver strapped to her back before making her way to Jack, greeting Miko as she passed her.

Jack lounged against the stairs that lead to the armoury, sipping a goblet of water leisurely as he watched her approach. She sat heavily beside him, taking the other goblet and downing it in two gulps.

These were the days Saiph loved most, when she was left alone to be her.

Well, today wasn’t the best of days. After meeting the General, while she ran around the house trying to catch Jack, she ended up meeting Nurse June sitting in a hallway, crying. When she asked why, she realised that the reason the General was here was because he had been escorting her cousin home.

The house had received the news weeks ago of what had happened to Bumblebee. Saiph never thought he’d come home.

She raced to the doctor’s room where she found Bumblebee seated at the table, Preceptor and another man standing in front of him.

When he saw Saipha, he pushed them aside, standing. She rushed at him, throwing herself around him.

Bumblebee wasn’t actually his name. When he was a baby, Bradly would continuously make buzzing noises. With the rare black streak in his blonde hair, the nickname caught on quickly throughout the household. Bumblebee suited him better than Bradly anyway.

Saiph released him from her embrace, pulling away to look at him. He was tired, eyes drooping and red.

She raised her hand slowly and stroked his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

She debated giving him a light punch to the gut in warning of him ever scaring her that badly ever again, but decided he’d suffered enough.

He smiled weakly, not meeting her eyes.

Saiph inhaled sharply, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes.

Perceptor ushered her away shortly after, telling her morning classes were cancelled and she needed to go find Jack and Wheeljack would be keeping them busy. She reluctantly agreed, knowing Bee was safe is he was with Perceptor.

After a failed 2 months at finishing school, Saiph was homeschooled by the house’s doctor/advisor. No one was really sure what he did. He was the doctor if you needed him to be, but he also had a vast knowledge of pretty much everything. He oversaw Saiph’s education with Nurse June, but it officially ended a year ago. He continued to add subjects her father had not included in her required syllabus. History and geography, biology and warfare, basic medicine. Saiph was being taught how to survive in the world, not rule above it. Perceptor was a kind and patient teacher.

Jack was the son of Saiph’s nurse maid, June. They were raised side by side from birth, but never as equals. Well, her father believed they were not raised equal. Any chance Saiph could she was sneaking food from the kitchen to him, and she always kept the meals that were brought to her room so we could share. Saiph never ate that much anyway. Jack helped keep the gardens and mind the horses.

Many of the good memories from her childhood were Bee, Jack and Saiph getting into trouble for the mischief they caused. And later on, the memories consisted of them being trained by Wheeljack in combat and swordsmanship.

Her archery lessons were carried out by a hunter who would pass into Yuss every fortnight. He would observe her form and make corrections while his haul was documented and coin was counted. Then he’d go off into the woods once again, returning when his wagon was fill 14 moons later. He never gave a name, merely calling himself ‘Hunter’.

Wheeljack was a strange man. He was from the country called Japan, and instead of ‘Knight’ called himself a “Samurai”. His weapon of choice was two swords he called katanas. They were smaller than broadswords in width and had a curve to them. He said they could not learn his method as they were not from his land, but was more than willing to teach them three with a broadsword.

Saiph’s father had despised the idea of her holding a sword, let alone wielding one, but she didn’t care. It was mostly his wife’s influence anyway. That her only job was to marry into a wealthy family and allow her sons to take over the family house, name and title.

Saiph didn’t want the skills to fight in this stupid war, she wanted them because they allowed her to feel as though she had some power in her own life. That she wasn’t just the girl, she was the fighter.

And she wasn’t the only girl in this town that fought. Jack and Saiph watched from their perch as Miko hoisted the hammer over her shoulder.

She was also a child from Japan, though she was orphaned at a young age when her parents were murdered on the road while travelling to Yuss. The convoy they were travelling with brought her to the city and were ready to give to the orphanage when the blacksmith came forward.

Bulkhead adopted her. She was raised around melting iron and molding swords. Being a blacksmith meant Bulkhead was ridiculously buff for a man, bulging biceps larger than Saiph’s head. No matter how hard Miko tried, she could never build mass, but she held strength. The only weapon she insisting training with was a war hammer. And damn could she use it effectively. Many times Jack and Saiph have narrowly avoided a painful trip to Nurse June after Miko swung that thing with pin point accuracy. Of all the kids in training, she scared Saiph the most.

There was one more child in this house, Raf. He was a quiet boy. Son of the head gardener, Saiph often helped sneak him into the library. The kid had a thirst for knowledge of the world, especially science. You could leave him in a corner with a stack of books and come back hours later to see he hasn’t moved at all, only the pile of ‘To read’ have shrunken. He was smart, and brazen for someone so small. Of all of the youth, the only one who rivalled the number of fights with the commoner children was Bumblebee.

Bumblebee was like a brother to young Raf, and Saiph’s cousin leaving for war broke his heart. The fights became more frequent after Bee’s departure. But as he always did, Raf went to read. His topic of books changed from science to warfare. He would write letters to Bumblebee almost every day, telling him of the new battle strategies and tactics he’d learned, begging her cousin to pass them onto the General. When news of Bumbebee’s injury reached the castle, Saiph thought the poor kid would burst with rage and fear. It took both Jack and Miko to hold him back from his quest of going to find the Warlord Megatron. To channel his rage, he did what he always did, read. He remembered reading somewhere of a man who learnt to use his hands to make different movements as a form of a language for people who were deaf. Raf found the book again and began making copies for all the people who were close to Bee. Then he began learning, practicing in the mirror and asking the kids to help him. All of them learnt, and a few of the adults in the house, for when he returned.

Saiph didn’t think he actually would.

“My lady!”

Saiph was startled out of gazing at the setting sun and turned to see it was Milo, a messenger.

“The lord wants to see you.” he informed with a bow.

The staff knew Saiph hated it when they bowed, and if they did it, it meant someone of higher standing was watching. She looked around and saw her step mother glaring down at them from a window on the third floor.

 “Thank you Milo.” Saiph dismissed him, turning back to the sun.

“Aren’t you going to go?” Jack asked.

“Nah.”

He chuckled, standing. “You should go. I need to get to the sables anyway.”

Saiph threw her head back with a groan, but she knew he was right.

Yelling a goodbye to Miko, they went their different ways. Saiph didn’t rush to her father though. She went to Bee first.

He lay on the bed, and one would assume he was asleep if not for the eye he cracked open when she walked in. Raf lay curled at his side, definitely asleep. His eyes were red and swollen, he had been crying. Poor kid.

Saiph picked a blanket from the pile in the basket near the bed and draped it over the two of them. Bee mouthed his thanks before closing his eyes again.

Did he want to rest because he needed it, or was he pretending so he did not have to see the pain in her eyes?

Saiph took the chance to grab a chair and sit, observe them. Bee’s hair had grown, now almost past his ears, and a start of a beard seemed to be trying to grow. He looked wrong with it.

Even though he was the oldest of them, the gap between him and Jack and Saiph was only two years. Raf was the youngest, being 16, Miko following at 17. Jack and Saiph were 19, leaving Bee at 21. None of them were children anymore, but it was so much easier for them to pretend they were still riding imaginary horses and fighting dragons.

The war was getting worse. Almost 80% of Cybertron had been destroyed. Crops burnt and farms destroyed in the fighting between The Great Optimus and the Warlord Megatron. Was the war even worth it if there was no land to govern after the war had concluded. How many more Bumblebee’s would die for opposing ideals? How many more innocent civilians would be forced to join the war to save themselves from starvation?

This town had been getting more refuse seekers everyday, many coming from all around Cybertron. Saiph’s father had had to begin turning them away. Not enough space for them. How much more was the war going to take?

She knew why the war started, why the revolution started, but was it all worth it?

Her inner conflict ended when a match was struck beside her and she was startled to find Perceptor standing behind her, lighting a candle.

“I thought your father asked to see you an hour ago?” he questioned.

She stood up, horrified. “An hour?”

Oh no.

Saiph turned without another word, rushing out the room.

If Milo had called her that meant her father was in the dining room, probably getting ready for dinner. Entering the main house, Saiph was surprised by the chaos.

Servants ran around, food and jugs smelling of wine being hurried around. That only meant one thing, her father was hosting a feast, probably for the army.

The sun only had a few rays left, torches illuminating the walls.

She laughed to herself as she passed the kitchen, poor men.

Saiph’s father was a cold man, to the servants as least. With his wife and their sons, he was joyful and kind hearted. She never spent much time with him. Mandatory dinners were bad, but the dinner table was large enough that she could sit on the far end and not hear their conversation. Saiph would eat as fast as she could and excuse herself.

His wife hated her with a passion, simply because Saiph was a threat to her son’s success in life.

The children themselves were monsters. Well, the older of the two was, the younger was a quiet boy. Kept to himself mostly, though that was because he never managed to get a word in over his older brother’s constant screeching.

Saiph often wished she got to spend more time with him, but anytime she got near, he would be called away. The staff were given strict orders to keep them separated as much as possible, and were harshly punished if they did not intervene. Saiph often saw him squatted down playing with the bugs to the side of the training grounds. A soft boy that would be ruined by the harshness of his mother and abuse from his brother.

She heard the hushed talks of her father from the staff, and the complaints from our visitors. He always forced himself into the center of a conversation, always making it seem he knew more than you. Many complained about him, like she didn’t know.

Taking the stairs that would be less busy, she entered the dining hall.

Yip, food overflowed the table, and soldiers.

They all turned to look at her, mouths full. The General sat to the right of her father, who was seated at the head of the table. To her father’s left sat the older of her two brothers. The youngest was probably in his room. An extra table had been brought to fit all the men, 16 in total.

Saiph’s step mother sat at the further end of the table, away from all the men, like tradition stood. Woman one side and men the other. An empty chair was opposite hers, Saiph’s.

Oh hell no.

She looked toward the General and saw him staring at her, expression unreadable. He was handsome, unfortunately. Black hair and stubble, eyes a startling blue. A strong and obviously build body hiding beneath that simple shirt and jacket.

It was like he was studying her, trying to understand who she was, what she was thinking.

It was weird, but not uncomfortable. It was like he wanted to know more and celebrate those parts, not force them into submission.

They stared for each other for a few beats too many, but were interrupted by Saiph’s father growling her name.

She turned her eyes toward him. “Yes?”

“What are you wearing?”

She looked down at her clothes. “What I always do.”

He took a deep inhale and Saiph saw the angry vein on his forehead showing. “Go to your room, get changed, and join us.” It was calmly said, but the rage behind it was obvious.

Normally, Saiph would fight, begin acting so unruly and fake a manic episode so she was dragged to her room and excused, but this time she didn’t want to. Saiph wanted to be seated with these men, to hear what they had to say. All of them. She bowed my head. “Of course, Father.” Saiph turned fast then, hiding the smirk that formed.  

[skeedelvee]

Carry On Countdown Day 3 - AU/Alternate Universe

For this year's COC I've decided to put together daily fic rec lists! Let me know if you find any new favorite reads from these <3

Today's prompt was easy, so here's a selection of AUs!

@bazpitchsirlbf by @philaet0s

Rated E, 31,016 words

Baz is a famous musician and Simon is his semi secret unfamous boyfriend. Excellent dialogue, excellent world building, very fun

“Hey babe, would you mind if I made a Twitter account where I say I’m your boyfriend?” He frowns at me. “Explain.” “Well, it’s mostly to fuck with your fans, to be fair. They’re so intense. I think it’d be a lot of fun. I wouldn’t share anything private or anything, I just want to see what that swarm of fangirls do when some rando goes on Twitter to claim he’s dating you.”

Keep the Skates On by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

Rated E, 3,992 words

Baz is great on roller skates and Simon is a roller rink employee with a crush on him. Super fun, would easily reading thousands of more words in this universe

“Keep the skates on,” he says as he sinks to his knees. He sits back on his heels, gazing up at me through stubby lashes. 🛼 That’s it. That’s the plot. Blow jobs on wheels. 🛼

A Fucked-Up Cinderella Story by @aristocratic-otter

Rated E, 56,167 words

Baz never went to Watford, him and Simon meet when Simon is contracted as an escort specifically to have sex with Baz. So good, so hot

Imagine a world where Baz’s father is a little more paranoid about Baz being outed as a vampire and decides to protect him after he’s bitten by keeping him home and homeschooling him. Everything that happens in this story is a ripple effect of this decision. Baz and Simon never meet. Malcolm never marries Daphne, too afraid to bring any third party into their home. With no Baz to invite Simon home for Christmas, and nobody having any knowledge that Simon can share his magic, Simon is attacked that Christmas day by the mage, who tries to kill him for his magic (Penelope calls in the Coven to save him). Simon’s magic is greatly diminished but not completely gone: the mage managed to drain most of the magic out of Simon, but the Coven shut down the part of Davy that can hold magic, rendering him Normal, and the humdrum was never heard from again, nobody knows why. None of this is in the story, but it sets the stage.

I Just Want Your Extra Time And Your ..... by @bazzybelle

Rated E, 15,444 words

Simon and Baz fall for each other through texting, when Dev signs Baz up for a phone sex service. I think about this fic often. I wish to one day write a texting fic as good as this one

They say you find love when you least expect it. Once you've stopped trying to look for it, it just happens to come barreling your way. For some, it's in the form of a beautifully awkward meet-cute. For others, it comes with the realization that your best friend is the love of your life. Neither was the case for Baz Pitch. He wasn't expecting to find anything of the sort when he started receiving overly flirtatious text messages out of the blue. He's a busy man and doesn't have time for these sorts of shenanigans. And besides, it's better to stay closed off than risk getting hurt, right? For Simon Snow, he couldn't afford to fall in love. He was simply doing a job that he was being paid to do. And as much as he found the bloke on the other side of the messages to be an annoying, pompous git, it was a job nonetheless. But life is funny like that. And sometimes you just gotta go with the flow. Maybe this time, it'll work out. Maybe this time, love will hit both of them when they least expect it.

The Wedding Date by @royalasstronaut

Rated E, 29,978 words

Baz hires Simon to escort him to a family wedding in Italy. I may be biased because I gave the concept of this fic up for adoption during the adoption fest, but Royalasstronaut really knocked it out of the park with this

With his cousin's wedding in Sicily coming up and no time to find a date, Baz is dreading having to put up yet again with his father's blatant attempts at matchmaking him to another eligible bachelorette. Lucky for him, fate (with quite a bit of help from Dev and Mordelia) has other plans.

He's a Knockout by Nerdistheword

Rated T, 143,277 words

Simon is a streetfighter and Baz falls for him. Also Ebb is Simon's foster mom and the humdrum is his little brother. The universe in this is so rich and full of depth. I highly recommend checking it out

Simon Snow Salisbury is a streetfighter who is sick of fighting but just can't bring himself to leave the ring. Baz is the spectator that falls for him on the spot, and Simon isn't far behind. A modern au filled with familiar faces, with some twists added in.

Under Pressure by @krisrix

Rated E, 14,001 words

Simon and Baz as superheroes?! Fuck or die?! Multiple pieces of Kris art?! This story is so good and so hot and it truly has everything you could hope for in a story like this

I smirk at him, trying to raise an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about me, Baz?" His look of concern shifts into annoyance so fast, I'm surprised it doesn't give him whiplash. "Don't use my name, Gauge." "Fine. Since when do you care about me, Mesmeric?"

Blood Inheritance by Thewesterndoor

Rated E, 96,357 words

DND flavored A/B/O universe. Simon and Baz meet when Simon is on a mission set by the Mage. Twists and turns, action, mystery, intrigue! It's a great story, especially if you're in the mood to dig into a long fic

Simon Snow lives on the edge of a knife, waiting for the one wrong move that will finally throw him into the abyss. With his alpha urges barely contained and his magic unmanageable the last thing he needs is a job from the Mage, but Simon can’t afford to say no. The job is simple enough, but a chance encounter with a cold and calculating omega leaves Simon reeling and pulled into a mystery that has haunted the town of Watford for over a decade. As heir to the Grimms and the Pitches, Baz was never supposed to be an omega. He might’ve been forgiven for not being born an alpha if a childhood attack hadn’t also left him a vampire. Instead, he’s a liability, hidden away in the countryside with any freedom hard won. When a threat to his mother’s legacy has him risking it all, it brings him face to face with Simon, an alpha who just might be capable of tearing apart Baz’s careful world. Does he dare trust the alpha who is working for the very man destroying Watford? And can Baz allow himself to give in to his hunger?

✨Gratuitous self rec✨

In Just Seven Days (And Six Long Nights) I Can Make You a Man-ah-ha-ha-an! by me! @skeedelvee

Rated T, 30,109 words

Simon and Baz are in a Rocky Horror shadow cast troupe and Simon has to train up to play Rocky. This was a real passion project for me and I think it' came out's a really fun story

The Popped Cherry shadow cast is in dire need of a Rocky. Simon Snow has a week to prepare for the role. The person enlisted to help bring him up to snuff? None other than the show's star (and Simon's roommate), Baz Pitch.

If you have any recs that fit the prompt that I've missed, feel free to leave them in the comments! There's plenty of gaps in my reading so there's a good chance I may not have read it.

Also I've had a hard time finding if some people are here on Tumblr, so if you know someone who hasn't been tagged, feel free to leave that in the comments as well <3

@carryon-countdown