#join the ranks//new muse

[glory-hasnoplacehere]

New vampire Muse! Welcome Eru Yanor!

[undyingmedium]

How was this not in her playlist yet

[starlightvivi]

HOW IT STARTED

König x Reader

________________________________________

Note: this story contains romantic themes and fluffiness

A/N: bruh this is my first time writing a story please do mention how is it, I mentioned whatever I feel like in Note, 😭 and English is not my first language, but I had the urge to write 😭, and do tell me if I try something new or write more parts of it and hope you guys like it ✌️ and stay safe guys

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It all began when you joined Kortac base, assigned to work there. Known for your thoughtfulness, compassion, and kindness, everyone admired you, including the Colonel who found you both proficient and charismatic. Despite meeting everyone in the base, an encounter with the Colonel remained elusive, creating an air of curiosity about the man who is a tall, massive figure behind the mask he wore.

The Colonel had silently admired your warmth since your arrival. Admiring from a distance, he yearned to initiate a conversation but found anxiety to be a formidable adversary. Each attempt felt like a delicate dance between desire and hesitation. In the bustling cafeteria, he finally thought to talk to you.

"Umm, hi there. Is this seat taken?"

The Colonel, surprised, nodded, inviting you to join him.

He had been quietly captivated by your warmth since your arrival. Admiring you from afar, he longed for conversation, but anxiety proved formidable. he finally found the courage.

"Not at all, have a seat. I hope the cafeteria chaos isn't too overwhelming for a newcomer like yourself."

"It's a bit lively, but I'm getting used to it. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, Sergeant. It's nice to have some company. I find these moments in the midst of chaos quite refreshing," he finally found some courage and replied.

"It's y/n," she said with a beaming smile on her face, relieved by his welcoming demeanor.

He nodded.

She gazed at him with eyes akin to big, lustrous blackberries, a radiant smile illuminating her face as she patiently awaited his introduction.

He stared for a moment and responded, "König."

"I see, King, huh!" She replied with a warm smile.

He responded with a nod, his gaze momentarily finding refuge on the tabletop. A shy warmth colored his cheeks, a subtle crimson betraying unspoken emotions beneath the surface.

"I noticed you seemed deep in thought. Everything alright, sir?"

He lifted his head, and his eyes, a mesmerizing fusion of cerulean blue and emerald green, held a captivating depth. Long, graceful lashes framed these kaleidoscopic orbs, casting delicate shadows that accentuated the enchanting hues, making his gaze an ethereal spectacle, and she felt she could get lost in them forever.

"Oh, just lost in my own musings. It happens more often than I care to admit. How are you finding your first days here?"

"It's been a mix of excitement and nerves, sir. But everyone's been friendly, especially considering the ranks," you replied as you got back to reality.

"Glad to hear that. It's a good team here. Anything specific on your mind, or just taking in the cafeteria spectacle?"

"Well, sir, besides navigating the military maze, I was also wondering if a seasoned officer like yourself has any tips on how to make the best impression." She said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

König, catching her playful tone, chuckled.

"Ah, making impressions. A classic challenge. Just be yourself, Sergeant. Authenticity goes a long way."

Y/n leaned in with a smirk. "But what if being myself includes a touch of charm and a killer smile?"

König, caught off guard, blushed slightly.

"Well, in that case, I suppose you'll be making quite an impression, won't you?"

Their banter continued, infused with playful teasing, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie and laughter. The cafeteria chaos faded into the background as they enjoyed each other's company.

And that's how the story began.

[harlowtales]

Reader is trying to figure out why all Jack’s friends and family are acting so weird.

18+ sweet/romance

“Baby go and see what’s taking Grandpa so long.” Jack asked you. He was all decked out in his Cardinals jacket and you had on his Cardinals hoodie.

“Will do Jack.” You said as you jumped down from his Jeep parked in the driveway of his Grandparents house.

You let yourself in and Grandma was just helping Grandpa put his sweatshirt over his head with a #3 on the back and his last name. “Looking good Pops!” You exclaimed. It was also so sweet to see how they looked after each other. Grandpa had some arthritis in his shoulder and his wife made sure she helped him.

“Thanks Sugar.” Grandpa said and pecked Grandma on the cheek. “Let’s roll, my Grandson is impatient”

You made sure Grandpa was safe in the front seat and took the back. Jack loved that he never had to ask you to do the little things like that.

It was a chilly fall evening and the stadium was packed in a sea of red and white. Cheers went up as Jack entered the stadium with you arm in arm with Grandpa. Jack egged it on by standing on top of a the seats, raising up his hands to the crowd, and dancing. You were shy and stayed out of the way, rolling your eyes at him, and he shot you a wink. Even Grandpa left you for a while to join in the fun. Jack’s friends were already there as they attended the tailgate party in the parking lot.

“Sup y/n” Trap Steve said taking a seat next to you and cracking open a Modelo. “Forever the party animal I see”

“Do you see him already?” You said pointing at Jack who had now climbed a wall to shake hands with fans. “Someone has to keep their head screwed on.”

“All I know is your man has to stop jacking my swag. The mullet is mine.” Trap said sarcastically

“Oh you own the rights on mullets?” You said laughing

“Yup! I should collect royalties.” He said

“From like every other hillbilly in Kentucky?” You ribbed

“He really digs you. It’s kinda sweet.” Trap said as he got up to join in on hyping up the stadium.

You looked after him a bit puzzled. “That was random” you mused. People were acting so weird lately.

The game started and Jack was screaming and jumping up and down as the Cardinals players ran onto the field. Beating top ranked Notre Dame would be a big deal. Jack finally took the seat beside you and held your hand for two seconds pecking you on the cheek before he got up to go again erupting with cheers. He looked back and saw you making sure Grandpa was ok with a drink and some snacks. He gave you a deep look of love with his big blue eyes that Grandpa caught but you didn’t see. The tension grew as the Cardinals closed the gap to pull ahead of Notre Dame. You cheered and spilled a bit of your popcorn on Grandpa.

“Oh geeze! I’m so sorry Pops!!” You said grabbing all the napkins you could find to clean up his lap. It was then that Grandpa felt moved to tell you something. He had been watching how Jack was around you the last few months and knew that look his Grandson had just given you. It was very familiar to him.

“So how’s everything going with Jack?” Grandpa asked you and threw you off guard.

“Um fine I guess. Why has he said something?” You said a bit panicked

“Nope just asking.” Grandpa said “I see the way he looks at you is all.”

“How does he look at me?” You said now even more paranoid

“Kinda like how I look at my Sugar.” Grandpa said referring to his nickname for his wife

You paused not knowing what to say and the popcorn in your mouth seemed to sit there for eternity and just melt. You couldn’t even chew. He noticed your silence and started apologizing. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He said.

“No just um…caught me off guard.” You said patting his leg to let him know it was fine. What Grandpa did not tell you and swore not to tell you is Jack thought you were THE ONE and was waiting to see how things went as the relationship was still new. He rarely let anyone around his family let alone spend so much time around his Grandparents.

It was a good game, the tension was building right up to the end. Suddenly you heard huge cheers and Jack was loosing his mind! The Louisville Cardinals had won!!! He started running with the crowd onto the field. Grandpa wanted to follow but you advised against it and guided him to the stadium tunnel where it was safe. Finally everyone piled into the locker room for the real party before the party that night.

Your boyfriend was in the thick of the action and to be honest you had a bit of a headache. What Grandpa said, how Trap was acting…had your head swimming and your heart racing. You retreated to the back of the room and watched Jack dancing, having the time of his life with the team and the boys. You slipped out the back to get air and saw Cope having a joint alone near the team bus.

“Cope?” You said quizzically

“Sup y/n” Copelan said as he took a pull off his joint and a sip of his beer. “Just needed some air.”

“Yeah. I feel that. I needed some air too, and Grandpa doesn’t need me hovering over him all the time.” You giggled

“You’re a real one y/n. Jack’s a lucky guy.” Copelan said “The way he looks at you….I know my dude. He’s feeling you big time.”

“Why does everyone say that?” You said feeling nauseous again. Why was everyone making a point of telling you what Jack thinks of you? You had only been dating 4months.

“Because we know him very well. We know The Look. Bruh is done. It’s a wrap. It’s just a matter of time really.” Copelan said and headed back in

“Why is everyone being so weird!!!?” Your thoughts raced.

Eventually you caught up with Jack inside. Grandpa needed to take his medication and get to sleep. Not according to Grandpa, but according to you. You tapped both of them on the shoulder and looked impatiently at your watch. They both looked at each other and rolled their eyes. You were right they should go. Jack dropped Grandpa off and Grandpa winked at you as he left the car. Jack wondered what was up.

“You guys got some inside shit happening now?” Jack observed

“What? No…” you said visibly uncomfortable tucking your hair behind your ear.

Jack knew when you did that it meant you were nervous but be thought it was cute you and his Grandpa had some inside situation he wasn’t privy to. He just held your hand the rest of the way to your place. Bryson Tiller softly playing in the jeep. “You like your apartment huh?” Jack said as he pulled up in front of your building. He fondly touched your face as you kissed him goodnight and this time you caught it. He thought you didn’t see it but you did. “The Sugar Look” is what you dubbed it in your mind. You felt it deeply. Jack looked away shyly his face red.

“I like it ok.” You said not wanting to call him out on anything and embarrass him.

“Yeah I guess there’s time to see what other living arrangements could look like.” He said his hand on your thigh

“Jackman” you said seriously

“Ah shit what did I do now.” He said with his hands up in mock arrest

“Whys all your friends, Grandpa, even your mom…acting so weird lately?” You asked

“Oh no reason.” He said playfully. He had told everyone he was going to ask you to move in with him. They could see he’d never been happier. “Thanks for looking after Grandpa tonight. I never have to worry with you by my side, and his side. You got my back in a major way.”

“No problem Jack, I guess I wish I still had my Grandpa or my dad.” You said trailing off

“Listen y/n, we’re all here for you ok?” Jack said and you felt so warm as he reached over and hugged you. He had an early flight and couldn’t come up and cuddle. “I’ll see you when I get back from Nashville ok?”

“Ughhh! Nashville again?” You whined

“Yeah Sugar you know I gotta finish up what I got going on out there.” He said as he pecked you on the forehead.

“What?” You said in shock by the nickname he just called you.

“What?” Jack said not noticing what he had said

“Nothing.” You said “I miss you already.” You blew him a kiss goodbye as you walked away on a cloud.

[sloanesallow]

Big Brained

There's nothing wrong with being feral for one's husband, right? Sloane can't help it, especially when Sebastian shows off that big, sexy brain of his. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), exactly one spank, and some Sebastian dirty talk. 2.5k words [Read on Wattpad] - [Read on Ao3] - [tumblr masterlist] Reblogs, comments, and kudos are always appreciated! ✨

The last place Sloane wants to be is the Ministry of Magic.

She has managed to avoid a permanent place at Whitehall, despite Minister Spavin’s constant and personal invitations for her to join their ranks. Her answer is always no—she does not want a career in the wizarding world’s government, preferring her freedom and whatever anonymity she has left. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for her husband, who is technically under their employment, contracted to work as a curse-breaker with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

At twenty, Sebastian is young, but incredibly talented, and one of the Auror’s greatest assets. He is usually in some far-off destination, exploring ancient tombs and collecting artifacts with a rag-tag crew, helping to chase down Dark Wizards and undo any havoc caused. Sloane travels with the group as an unofficial healer, treating mysterious and mundane wounds while researching remedies both magical and muggle. They are a dynamic duo of sorts, and the Ministry knows that the Sallows are a package deal, the bond inseparable—unbreakable. 

After spending the last three months in the Austrian wilderness, they are back in London to receive a new assignment. Sloane spends the morning checking in on their dusty flat and shares a few cups of tea with Poppy in the local shoppe before venturing back to the second floor to find Sebastian. Even though he is rarely in-office, the Aurors keep a room clear for his use, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of what she calls the ‘bull-pen’.

Sloane can hear a few familiar voices as she approaches the open door, peeking her head in to see Sebastian in the middle of a fervent discussion with two of the officers who accompanied them in Salzburg. The other men don’t seem to notice her presence, but her husband acknowledges her entrance with a quick glance, the corner of his mouth twitching up before he refocuses his attention.   

“Have the scouts reported back?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeffries, the older and more skeptical Auror replies. Sir—Sloane sees the subtle pride in Sebastian’s expression, even if the title causes her to bite back a laugh. Jeffries continues, “the rumors about increased activities on the Nordic coast are true. Intelligence suggests a small, but powerful group of heretics are attempting to locate bloodrunes, magic the Ministry hasn’t encountered in…centuries.”

That you know of, Sloane muses to herself as she idly peruses the nearby bookshelf, overflowing much like the shelves at home.

“Bloodrunes require significant power to activate,” Sebastian states, not bothering to specify if this knowledge is based on first-hand experience or not. He leans over the map spread out across the desk and traces a finger along the supposed site. “There are probably laylines that can be disrupted, but I won’t speculate until I see the area for myself.”

“Perhaps we should wait before sending a team—”

“Wait for what, exactly?” Sebastian interjects, raising an eyebrow in challenge. He straightens his posture and crosses his arms. “A blood sacrifice? Neither of you studied ancient magical tribes, so I won’t fault you for your ignorance, but the last time runes like these were activated, it triggered a tidal wave that destroyed the sea walls along the Nordic coast. Thousands of people were killed.”

Sloane glances up from the book she is pretending to read and feels only a little shame for ogling her husband when he is in the middle of an important conversation. But she enjoys watching Sebastian showcase his intelligence—he’s always been a little cocky, and rightfully so—he won’t back down when he knows he is right. With his coat discarded and sleeves pinned up, she can see the way the muscles in his arms flex as he waits for either man to respond.

“Alright, Sallow, you win,” the other Auror, Bartie, sighs. The red-headed Weasley is a few years older than her and Sebastian but is far more trusting than the rest of the old guard. “What do you need from us?”

Sebastian shrugs, trying not to smirk when he gets his way. “Whomever the department can spare, really. Preferably those who are proficient in more than just defensive magic. A liaison for the local communities as well, to safeguard them from harm.”

“Should I contact St. Mungos—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sebastian waves off Jenkins’ inquiry. It should be known by now that the only healer needed is Mrs. Sallow—Sloane. The Aurors give curt nods and Sebastian flicks his gaze to where she is standing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, but I believe my wife has been waiting long enough.”

She smiles somewhat bashfully as the two men finally notice her just as they are being shooed out of the room. Jeffries is indifferent, but Bartie offers a polite smile and wave before leaving.

“Looks like we’re off on another adventure, sweetheart,” Sebastian says when they are alone, re-crossing his arms as he leans back against the desk. Sloane is already swiftly crossing the room, practically launching herself onto him as she swallows his surprised laughter in a kiss. He quickly hooks his arms around her waist, holding her steady as she presses up on her toes to meet his height the best she can.

“Mmm—hello,” he manages, pulling away with a breathless grin. “You’re certainly in a mood.”

“Yes, sir,” she simply replies, catching the glimmer of excitement that passes through his coffee-colored eyes. Sloane touches her heels back to the floor, smoothing her hands across his shoulders and chest, playing with the straps of his suspenders. “Is that so bad?”

“Not at all,” Sebastian hastily shakes his head and gives her hips an appreciative squeeze. “I’m usually the needy one, is all.”

“Well, I can’t help it when you show off,” she explains, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. “I love your big brain.”

Sebastian’s brows twitch up at the word big, but before he can make a lewd comment she palms the front of his pants, and he croaks instead. He recovers quickly, hands snapping up to firmly cradle her face as he captures her lips in a kiss that speaks volumes of his hunger for her. Sloane matches his enthusiasm, tugging at his suspenders until they are hanging at his sides. As she flicks open the clasps of his trousers, he fumbles for his wand, muttering the necessary spells against her lips to slam shut the door, waiting for the audible click of the lock before tossing it aside.

It isn’t very often that Sloane is in control, and she takes full advantage of catching him off guard, not-so-gently pushing him back until he topples into the cushioned armchair with an oof. He watches her with a mesmerized expression, shifting to accommodate as she kneels between his spread legs. She continues with removing his trousers, pulling them down along with his underwear until the fabric pools around his ankles.

Sloane wastes no time, finding satisfaction in the way Sebastian’s breath hitches as she wraps one hand around the base of his cock, already hard from her teasing. She leisurely strokes him, pushing up his shirt so she can trail a path of wet kisses across his navel, hipbone, and thighs. Her thumb brushes over the sensitive head, spreading the gathering of pre-come as he shudders, breathing already labored. With a coy glance up through her lashes, she slowly takes him into the warmth of her mouth.

Sebastian’s fingers quickly thread into her hair, tugging at the ash-blonde strands as her lips slide down his length until she feels him against the back of her throat. She sucks in to create a perfect seal, repeating the up and down motion a few times before leaning back to swirl her tongue around the tip.

“F—fuck…” Sebastian groans, his head lulling back. Sloane steadily increases her pace, humming until the vibration prompts him to slide open his eyes to watch her head bob in his lap. Her fingers continue to stroke where her lips can’t reach, her other hand softly fondling his sac in a way that has his hips bucking up involuntarily.

She keeps her eyes on his face as it contorts with pleasure, brows furrowed deeply as he resists the urge to unravel too quickly. It’s thrilling for her to see him at her mercy, incoherent murmurs of praise falling from his lips as she eagerly coaxes him to the edge. His grip tightens in her hair, pressing against the nape of her neck, a telltale sign he’s close.

“Slo—Sloane,” he gasps, voice strained. “I—oh, fuck—I’m—”

The rest of his sentence dissolves into a strangled moan, his body tensing and cock twitching against her tongue as he spills his release. Sloane swallows it all, remembering to breathe through her nose as she takes every last drop he has to offer. Sebastian slumps back, in a daze as Sloane pulls away with a wet pop and self-satisfied smirk. There’s a lopsided grin on his face as he silently admires her, affectionately sweeping the hair from her face before brushing the pad of his thumb across her wet lips.  

Even though Sloane can feel the slick of her arousal within her undergarments, she is content enough to wait until they return to their London flat for reciprocation. Seeing Sebastian so boneless and completely sated is satisfaction enough. She slides her hands across his thighs, gently massaging the remaining tension away.

“Ready to go home?” she asks, already imagining the evening ahead. A long bath, a hearty meal, and the comfort of their marital bed—not that they’ll be doing much sleeping.

Sebastian gradually sits up and Sloane pushes herself to stand, ready to help him right his trousers and gather his belongings so they can leave before more Aurors—or heaven forbid the Minister himself—stops by for another chat. But Sebastian shakes his head and the devilish gleam in his eyes is all the warning she has before his hands are on her, spinning her around to bend her over the desk.

“Seb!” the protest dies on her tongue as he hoists up her skirts, tucking them around her waist. Sloane sucks in a breath as he cups her, fingers pressing firm against the dampness of her knickers. He makes an appreciative sound, applying more pressure where she needs it the most, but just as she pushes back against his touch it’s gone, and all she can do is whimper at the loss.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Sebastian coos, peeling the delicate fabric away to expose her naked flesh. “I’ll take care of you.”

She lets out a surprised squeak when he playfully smacks her bare bottom, even more heat pooling in her gut as her legs tremble. Sebastian huffs a soft chuckle, this time smoothing the skin over with a gentle touch.

“More?” he asks, the deep timbre of his voice causing her to shiver.

She nods, barely remembering to speak, “yes.”

“Yes…?”

Sloane flushes—even after all these years, Sebastian can so easily fluster her. “Y—yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Perhaps some lingering naivety makes her believe he’ll simply take her like this, but no, her husband clearly has other plans for her. His hands slide up the back of her thighs until his thumbs are spreading her open, teasing her silken folds and entrance.

“Is this what I do to you?” he rasps, sliding two fingers through her arousal before slowly sinking them into her as she lets out a shuddering sigh. The way she flexes around him as he leisurely pumps in and out betrays just how impatient she is for his offer of pleasure. When she lifts her hips to meet his ministrations, Sebastian presses his free hand to her lower back, keeping her still.

“I said I’d take care of you,” his voice is gruffer than before, and she bites back a whine when he removes his fingers. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she breathes, shaking her head. A part of her realizes this is Sebastian’s way of showing her who is really in charge, now.

“Do you want to come around my fingers?”

Sloane shakes her head again, fighting the urge to squeeze her thighs together for the slightest ounce of relief.

“No?” Sebastian feigns surprise, amused by her startled moan when he slips his fingers back inside her anyways. “My, my…you are needy today, aren’t you?”

All she can do is moan, disrupting the parchment on the desk as she grasps for purchase.

“Well,” he says in a sigh, curling his fingers to press against the spot that makes her vision blurry with stars. “You’ll have to use your words, my love. Tell me what you need.”

Sloane bites down a little harder on her bottom lip, her entire body now hot and prickled with goosebumps. She used to hate when he prompted her like this, attempting to coax filthy words from her lips and make her beg. But she really is too indigent right now to care, glancing over her shoulder to meet his wicked expression.

“Sebastian, I swear to God, if you don’t—”

“Isn’t it a sin to swear to God?” he muses, acting as if he isn’t knuckle-deep inside her. “My Sloane is much more polite than that.”

Insufferable tease—she huffs in frustration, but the warm swirl in her gut is a stark reminder that she loves it, loves him.

“Please,” she starts, deeply exhaling. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Sebastian tries to hide his delight but fails, laughing as he shifts to properly stand behind her, nudging her stance a little wider so they are properly aligned. “As my lady wishes.”

There is little teasing after that, Sebastian nudging his hardened-again cock against her before snapping forward to fill her in one fluid stroke. Her sharp gasp is drowned out by his deep groan and it’s very clear neither will last very long. Almost immediately, he sets a quick pace, the friction an agonizingly wonderful burn. Sloane can feel her legs shaking, straining as she stands on the very tip of her toes, Sebastian holding her up by the waist and hips to meet his thrusts.

“That’s it,” he grunts, not bothering to keep any sort of rhythm. He folds his body over hers, his free hand grasping her right wrist, pinning it to the desk as he bares his weight down. “Just like that.”

Sloane whimpers her approval, the warmth of him holding her down a comfort she never expected to enjoy or need. He ruts his hips against hers until they are both frantically crying out, core fluttering around him as he spills again, this time deep inside her heat.

It takes several moments for them to float back down to reality, Sloane sighing as Sebastian rests himself a little more comfortably across her back. He nestles his nose against her neck, affectionately sweeping through her sweat-matted hair as he presses a few lazy kisses to the shell of her ear.

He repeats her earlier ask with a breathless chuckle, “ready to go home?”

She hums her agreement, the two unhurried as they fix their appearances and attempt to tidy up any mess. As they leave the offices hand-in-hand, Sloane thinks to herself that maybe, just maybe, the Ministry of Magic isn’t so bad after all.

[pockyteau]

HEARTS PLAYERS

✩ a chishiya x reader where hearts players are all one in the same, until they're not

✩ a/n - chishiya is knees deep in denial in this one

Chishiya didn't like Hearts players. 

For one, he found the notion of a 'hearts player' rather cheap. It doesn't take a lot to take advantage of a person; despite his disinterest in understanding the human heart, it was no great feat to fool one. However, the mind was a much more complex task - and perhaps he was biased, but Diamonds pretty much had that covered. 

Even so, he found some Hearts players slightly intriguing. Was the capability of understanding a person's heart really such a special thing? Chishiya's inability to see the value in a person's emotion, compassion, was what put him at such an advantage to the rest of the people in the Borderlands. Who would choose to trust their heart, something that breaks so easily, rather than their mind? 

And so he was slightly curious when the new executive turned out to be a Hearts player.

Chishiya had been expecting the newcomer for some time; the Beach's recent growth meant more competent players would be joining the ranks, and he was interested to see who Hatter might consider skilled enough to invite into the executive board. Despite what most might believe, it was no high honour to be an executive, however lower your assigned number would be as a result. It just meant more people would be out to kill you. 

Which didn't bother him as nearly as much as the frequent meetings the Hatter insisted on holding, during which he often contemplated climbing through the open window on the fifteenth floor.  

Aside from your status as a Hearts player, Chishiya finds the rest of your introduction a bore. There is already a Hearts player on the executive board, in any case; Mira, who seems to have been here ever since the Beach's beginning, and whom Chishiya mildly dislikes. What does interest him, however, is how you are smiling; there is not one welcome-faced person in the room, and yet your expression is strangely warm. You must be a fool, he muses, but from where he stands most Hearts players often are.

Before he can look away your eyes meet his from across the room, and he is momentarily caught off-guard when your smile becomes directed at him. He gives you a small wave, quick to regain his composure. He sees your fingers twitch at your sides, wondering whether to wave back, and the corner of his lips tug upward into his usual complacent expression. But you are guided into a seat before you can do any more than nod in his direction, and Chishiya leans back in his chair. You are nothing special, he decides, and probably just as predictable as the rest.

But he finds his gaze drifting back to you as Hatter drones on about something he doesn't care about enough to listen to. You look as bored as he is, making a cat's cradle with your fingertips under the table. The action somewhat amuses him, with your eyes lowered in quiet concentration.

Without warning, his vision is abruptly filled with those eyes of yours again as you catch him watching you, meeting his gaze in surprise. Unabashed, he tilts his head at you - after a beat or so you merely smile again, the corners of your eyes crinkling slightly in quiet laughter. 

Chishiya sighs, the soft breath soundless to the person seated next to him. Do you think you have found a friendly face, someone to acquaint yourself with? So it's just that. A Hearts player's naivety. He doesn't need to know much more about you than that to guess how competent you'll be at playing games, or how long you'll survive for. He turns away, certain that you've served your purpose in keeping his mind off of this tedious meeting.

But it's strange that you still linger in his thoughts long after the meeting is over.

- Chishiya is slightly annoyed when Kuina asks about the new executive. He doesn't see the need to talk about you, or why Kuina should show such a sudden interest in executive matters - you are just yet another member of the Beach. Why waste time talking about something so unimportant?

"A Hearts player?" Kuina says curiously. She takes a sip of her coffee, and grimaces.

"Yes," Chishiya concedes. "Why do you keep drinking that garbage? You clearly don't like it."

Kuina snorts. "Don't change the subject! And my coffee drinking habits are none of your business."  

The blonde shrugs. "If you like torturing yourself, so be it." 

"You're literally the worst." Kuina eyes him with distaste, taking another strenuous sip of her coffee. "Right, well. What's this Hearts player like? Any good?"

Chishiya sighs. In his mind, an ideal world, the discussion has already moved far beyond this point. "Don't know." He says impassively. He hopes that the additional and unspoken 'don't care' is evident in his tone of voice, since Kuina is clearly set on this topic of conversation. He raises his palms, giving Kuina a dry smile. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"  

She groans, and Chishiya's grin widens as he advises her to watch her precariously tipping coffee cup. He expects she will pretend to throw it at him in response; he finds it unsurprising when she does exactly that.

-

Chishiya considers skipping the next executive meeting, unenthusiastic to spend another hour in a room with a collection of people far more pretentious than even himself. The summer air was rather weighted, and he presumed the warmth in the air would make him drowsy. Yet he could think of no better way to spend his time, either. 

He exhales, stuck between the two options, neither any more enticing than the other. Could he play a game? No, it's still much too early. Perhaps he'd better go to the meeting after all - he had skipped quite a few this past month, and although he cared little for the Hatter it might be beneficial to remain in the man's good graces. 

As if carried on the lazy summer wind, the brief thought of you passes through his mind, but it is gone before he can dwell much on it. 

The conference room is already mostly full when Chishiya arrives. Ann calls it ill-mannered, Chishiya calls it fashionably late. Besides, even Hatter is yet to arrive, so clearly he has come in good time. 

Chishiya notices you glance up as he takes his seat at the back of the room. You give him a small smile, like before. He smirks, giving you a wave in return. Strange that you would think you had found a friend in him, of all people.

As you shift your hands on the table top, he catches a glint of pink foil between your fingertips. He raises his brows, making no attempt to inquire about it, but you seem to notice his gaze on your hands. The smile on your lips turns into a grin, and you shoot a quick glance over your shoulder to check if Hatter has arrived yet. 

Confirming the Hatter is still absent, you turn back to Chishiya, who watches you with his brow furrowed. Admittedly, he has no idea what you're doing. Carefully, tilting your hands towards the blonde as if guarding a great secret, you open your closed palms to reveal two foil-wrapped chocolates.   

Want one? you mouth.

Chishiya can't help but snort, earning him an odd look from Ann beside him. He catches the soft laugh that escapes your lips at his response, the chocolates still sitting on your palms. Certainly, you might not be special, but you were proving to be more interesting than he initially thought; out of all the things he had expected out of today, this was not one of them. He decides to play along, his lips curving in amusement.

What flavour? he mouths back.

You blink. The wrapper is pink, you reply. 

The blonde frowns. What does that matter?

Pink means strawberry, you explain. Everyone knows that. 

Chishiya feels an odd sense of utter disbelief. What is he doing? he wonders, and what kind of useless knowledge was that?

In the end he accepts the chocolate, which makes your eyes light up in a way that almost surprises him. It's only a chocolate, yet you seem so delighted; it causes a strange twist in his chest, which he passes off as contempt. Of course someone like you would be so happy about such a simple thing. It's another thing he dislikes about Hearts players - they always retain such unnecessary emotion. 

But that quality seems so much different, so much better, on you. 

Then comes the ordeal of you trying to slide one of the chocolates across the table to Chishiya, which has the both of you concealing laughter behind hands and the clearing of throats. The chocolate ends up on the floor. Ann shoots Chishiya another glare. 

Chishiya couldn't care less about Ann. 

-

Chishiya is aware that you are not fond of playing games. 

He has picked up on the way you chew the inside of your cheek whenever the Hatter talks about collecting more cards, the way your gaze lowers to the table whenever the subject is breached. He finds this unsurprising. Even as a player of hearts, you yourself are soft-hearted, the gentleness in your eyes and the way you continuously smile contradicting your card specialty - but every executive has made their way on to the board for a reason. What had made it so that you were able to stand in the same room as him? He finds he would be interested to see you play a game. Would you be so friendly with your life on the line?

He is mildly disappointed to see the group arrangement for the evening's games. The group he is in will play a Clubs game, speculated to be low-level. He usually finds it insulting when Hatter delegates these kinds of games to him, the man's frequent disregard for Chishiya's intellect irritating - but whatever. He is much more intrigued by the game you have been selected to play. 

 Your name is under the group for the Diamonds game, located in Shinjuku. 

His eyes lazily trace the rest of the list. He wonders if you are as intelligent as your status as a Hearts player would suggest; many would say Diamonds and Hearts are interchangeable, though Chishiya much prefers his title as a Diamonds player, he was just as confident in his ability to clear Hearts games - but there are some who are exceptions to this common theory. He finds Kuina is listed under the Shinjuku Diamonds game as well. Perhaps she might be able to provide some insight on your capabilities when she returns, if he is bothered to ask by then.

But he doesn't have to wait that long to find out.

He sees you first, on the way back from his own game. His game, a Six of Clubs, was mind-numbingly easy, although he'd disliked the way his group had looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to solve the game himself. They weren't his problem. Why should they expect anything from him? He shoves his hands in his pockets, stopping when his fist closes around a small object wrapped in foil. He realises the chocolate you gave him is still in his pocket. 

He wonders why he hasn't thrown it out yet.

"Chishiya?"

Chishiya blinks, realising you must have seen him too. He lifts one of his hands from his pockets to wave, and you give him a smile, although it seems more weary than usual. It's strange, how his throat tightens at the thought, but he lets the lazy smirk surface over his lips. "That's me, yes."

"Glad I wasn't mistaken, then." You joke. "How was your game?"      

The blonde shrugs. The nicety is far too bland for him to give a substantial answer. "Nothing remarkable. Yours?"

You pause, deliberating on a reply. "Well, I suppose it wasn't anything remarkable either." You let out a quiet laugh. "I'm not great at Diamonds games, though, so considering it was an Eight I'm lucky to have made it out at all."

Chishiya hums, offering no response of his own. He thinks quite the opposite, actually. He is sure that the wan expression you wear is not because you lack of skillset - judging by the way you spoke so flippantly of the number, you had cleared the game without much challenge. No, the reason was one Chishiya himself had never cared for. It was clear enough by the conflicted look in your eyes, one he had seen on enough people to recognise instantly, that you weren't as indifferent as he was to the lives of other players. Quite a few deaths in your game, then. He sees the way you rub your thumb over the side of your index finger, a habit of self-reassurance and comfort. A habit he had unlearned a long time ago. 

Here was another thing he disliked about Hearts players; they were always much too concerned about other people's business.

He presses his lips together. You would be so much more interesting, so much more worth his time if you dropped this soft-hearted quality of yours. But as he studies you he can't explain why somewhere in him too difficult, too abstract to pinpoint feels the need to say something to you, to offer you some form of comfort. This was not his problem, as much as the survival of the other players in his game wasn't his problem. 

So he doesn't know why the words escape his lips of their own accord.

"Give me your hand."

You look at him, surprised. Chishiya is also surprised. 

"My hand?" you say doubtfully, and the blonde nods. You peer at him for a moment more before uncertainly holding your palm out to him, although you don't lose the apprehension in your voice. "Okay..."

He places the pink foil-wrapped chocolate into your hand, his fingers brushing your palm as he does so. He ignores the warmth that briefly lights up is fingertips. Probably friction, or something of the sort. The chocolate is, astonishingly, still in good condition, and you close your fingers around it and bring it closer to you. The smile returns to your face as you laugh unreserved. 

"You kept it?" you murmur, glancing up at Chishiya with a grin. 

He gives you another shrug. "I don't like chocolate." This is a lie. He is no big fan, but he doesn't mind the confectionary, either. And he is particularly fond of strawberry, as the pink wrapper indicates.  

You raise your brows as if seeing through his lie, but you say nothing nonetheless. Instead you thank him, the content smile still resting upon your features, and Chishiya finds he is somewhat relieved to see your expression is much more relaxed than it was before.

But when you suddenly wrap your arms around him, whispering another word of thanks into his shoulder, he feels himself tense at your touch; Chishiya has never liked physical contact, especially not from people he barely knew. Yet he simply lets you hug him, although he makes no attempt to hug you back. You pull away after a moment, suddenly further from him than he would've liked.

"Ah, I'm sorry...I should've asked first, I just..." You apologise, clasping your hands together in a flustered way. The action makes it difficult for Chishiya to keep the amused look off his face - for a moment he is tempted to taunt you, wondering if he could draw a new expression out of you. Something devastated, perhaps, if you thought you'd ruined whatever relationship you had with him. An interesting change to your usual bright smile. 

Chishiya exhales, unable to help the slight upward tilt of his lips. "Don't lose sleep over it," he shrugs. He won't torment you, at least for now. You did give him a chocolate, after all. He's simply repaying a favour. "It's not a big deal."

There it is again, that smile of yours that exasperates Chishiya no end, relieved and tentative. Strangely, he has the sudden urge to move closer to you and observe your happiness at close-quarters. Surely there was a limit to how much a person could smile a day? But he merely dips his head in response as you bid him goodnight and disappear, careful to make sure his complacency never wavers.   

It's odd, though. No matter how hard he tries to push it away, a question lingers in his mind for the rest of the night.

Why didn't he pull away from you then?

-

You begin to sit next to Chishiya during executive meetings. 

He can't say he is surprised.

Only, he can't say he despises it either, the way you draw out the chair beside him and ask him if you could sit there with dancing eyes. He should hate that you think the two of you are friends. He does hate the way his throat seems to tighten when you smile, which should be reason enough for him to shut you down.

But for whatever reason, he doesn't.

Maybe it's because he knows that even if he does shut you down, you would pay him no mind. So why bother? It's not as if he doesn't welcome the distraction from the executive matters he is well above hearing about for the fourty-fifth time. 

You bring with you more pink-wrapped chocolates, as if you had never really believed the lie he'd told you. Chishiya finds when he eats one that they're much too sweet, even for him - you are content eating the strawberry chocolate, however, the over-sweetness of the confectionary not seeming to bother you in the slightest. Chishiya can't seem to refuse when you hand him one. 

"These are terrible," he mutters under his breath, chewing on one of your strawberry chocolates as Hatter points at his card collage. 

"Why do you eat them, them?" You grin, folding a pink foil wrapper into a condensed foil heart. The irony of you folding hearts is not lost on him. 

But Chishiya honestly doesn't know the answer to your question.

He doesn't know why he lets you press the little heart into his palm either, your touch warming his hands as if he is holding them to a winter bonfire. The twist in his chest is growing stronger, and he can only ignore it for so long. It's strange that he suddenly doesn't know so many things; Chishiya finds uncertainty alarming - to be uncertain was a concept he was unfamiliar with, his ability to predict the outcome of every situation he encountered one he prided himself on. He is always certain; of himself, of the world, of where people stand in his regard. He is certain he dislikes Heart players. 

Especially you. 

You, who possesses every quality he condemns, who somehow makes him feel the need to understand his own heart no matter how much he tells himself he does not. Something else he is certain of; he does not need the emotions that may surface from doing so.   

But when he looks at the foil heart in his palm, the remnants of shared strawberry chocolate, was he really so certain anymore?

[thedensworld]

Lover | Kim Mingyu

How You Two Notice Feelings

Lover Series 🖤🌼

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x Fashion Editor!reader (ft. Joshua as an unbiological brother)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Series, Humour

Note: i'm sorry i use she pronouns for this series😔

_________________________________________

After pouring five years of relentless effort, learning from seasoned mentors, and shedding blood, sweat, and tears, your dedication bore fruit as you were fortunate enough to ascend the ranks, securing the position of Artistic Director for the South Korea branch. The news of your promotion filled Joshua and your mother with excitement, especially considering how your demanding work had kept you from visiting them even during your time in Seoul. The prospect of your impending move to Seoul sparked Joshua to start planning a celebration.

Over the course of a month, you meticulously prepared for your move, addressing logistical challenges like sending your belongings, securing a visa due to your non-Korean origins, and attending to work-related matters. Now, you found yourself standing on Seoul, the very heart of South Korea's capital city. As you emerged from the gate, your heart warmed at the sight of your mother holding a sign bearing your name and Joshua standing beside her, a mask and hat partially concealing his features. With a wide grin, you waved, the anticipation and joy palpable.

"Lost some weight, huh?" Your mother's observation upon seeing you prompted a laugh to escape your lips, breaking the initial wave of emotions.

"I'll grab your things," Joshua offered, extending his help after an extended embrace. Grateful, you muttered your thanks before linking arms with your mother.

"Jet lag bothering you?" Your mother's query brought back memories of your tendency to suffer from jet lag, even after relatively short train journeys. Joshua's chuckle in the background, giving a playful jab at your enduring idiosyncrasy, a sign of his endearing fondness for his little sister.

For now, your plan was to reside temporarily with your mother, despite the hour-long commute to your workplace. The inefficiency was overshadowed by the comfort of being with her, reminiscent of times past.

"Are you staying here?" After emerging from the bathroom and spotting Joshua on the couch, indulging in potato chips and his favored Netflix series, you inquired. He invited you to join him, a temptation you couldn't resist, despite the lateness of the hour. Sleep eluded you, even though it was nearing midnight and you'll have a busy day ahead, visiting the office and various locations.

As you settled in beside him, he graciously shared his chips, a small gesture that highlighted the mutual respect you held for each other—an unspoken bond between unbiological siblings.

"I'm glad you made to move here," Joshua remarked, turning his gaze towards you, a smile lighting up his face. In response, you returned his smile, playfully querying,

"Missed me, did you?" Joshua's nod was confirmation enough.

"It reminds me of when Mom first introduced you. It felt odd, like I was too old to suddenly have a sister. At the time, we both sensed the awkwardness between us. Having never had a sister before, your arrival was quite the... surprise. Yes, a surprise."

Your smile grew wider, and you mused, "But when I left..." trailing off, your gaze met his, and he nodded in understanding. "Yes, when you left five years ago. I've never felt that kind of loneliness before. I grew up with twelve members, but when I got a taste of having a sister and you were gone for such a long time, I couldn't help but cry."

For a moment, you were taken aback by this unexpected confession. Embracing Joshua, you held him close, your affection for him as a brother evident in the tightness of your grip. "Really, Josh?"

His embrace conveyed reassurance and sincerity as he continued, "I'd only ever heard stories about members with sisters, like Vernon, Jeonghan, and Mingyu. They always worried over their sisters, and I secretly envied those emotions. When you left, I finally understood that feeling. It wasn't solely because you were gone; it was because I now had a sister too."

Resting your head upon his shoulder and intertwining your arms, you murmured, "You're a great brother as well, Josh. You should know that."

*

"The new Artistic Director is coming in an hour," the assistant of the photoshoot's director informed, caught by Mingyu's ears. Suddenly, a flurry of activity engulfed the staff, feverishly tidying and polishing every corner of the photoshoot venue.

"Let's move on to the next outfit," the director announced, prompting Mingyu to express his gratitude to the staff before stepping away.

"Who's coming?" Mingyu queried his manager while changing into his next ensemble. "Should I prepare myself?"

"A new director is visiting. Would you like to greet them? They should arrive in about fifteen minutes," his manager conveyed, also inquiring about his coffee order. The photoshoot team informed them of a food truck sent by the new director, replete with coffee and desserts.

Mingyu's eyes lit up at the mention of fudgy brownies. "Hyung, you know my order," he chimed, referring to his preference for an ice americano paired with fudgy brownies. His manager chuckled indulgently before departing to fetch his third outfit. With three more outfits to go, he eagerly anticipated the brownies.

"The director is rather young," his manager remarked when Mingyu emerged from the changing room for the fourth outfit.

"They're here?" Mingyu inquired, his restlessness palpable.

"She's here."

"A woman? Should I introduce myself?" Mingyu pondered aloud, prompting his manager to discuss the matter with today's director. Mingyu's eyes widened as he recognized a familiar figure moving around the venue. "Ms. Y/n, meet Kim Mingyu, our global brand ambassador and the star of this shoot."

A smile graced your lips as you extended a hand for a handshake. "Long time no see, Mingyu," you greeted warmly, evoking fond memories of your past interactions.

You explained your connection to the director, who left the two of you to engage in further conversation. "How have you been?" you inquired.

Mingyu's smile radiated genuine contentment. "I'm doing great. You moved here to Seoul, right?" he confirmed, prompting your nod. "I just got here yesterday. How's the shoot going?"

"It's incredible. Park Jihoon, the director, always has a keen eye for what works best," Mingyu praised before being called back for another shoot. You allowed him to proceed before resuming your exploration of the venue. Little did anyone in that space know the profound effect this reunion was having on Mingyu's heart.

*

Following his return from France, no one could have told the way your friendly interactions would set Mingyu's heart racing. Your frequent texting and video calls had even induced blushes on his cheeks. After a heartbreak months ago, he hadn't anticipated experiencing these feelings again, but unbeknownst to him, the sentiment was reciprocated on your end as well.

A week turned into a month, during which both of you unwittingly toyed with each other's feelings for nearly a year, all beneath the innocent labels of friends. While you habitually addressed each other as bestie, babe, and love, you were fully aware of the profound impact these terms held for one another. This recognition became a sweet addiction that drew you closer.

As the autumn breeze rustled through the leaves, you found yourself buried in a mountain of work, rarely engaging with your phone. It wasn't about mundane life updates; it was the shared texts that mattered. Mingyu still messaged you, but the rush of tasks left little room for replies. Days merged into weeks, and you realized that more than ten days had passed without a response. The courage to apologize or explain your situation escaped you, causing you to inadvertently distance yourself further.

In Mingyu's eyes, he saw his actions as immature. Despite his age, this realm was unfamiliar to him. He acknowledged that you were simply friends, yet he couldn't deny the undeniable spark between you two. His recent actions could be attributed to disappointment after your month-long silence. He pieced together snippets of your life from a friend's Instagram Story, and this might have prompted him to respond to a girl who reached out to him through DM, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

The realization that he'd made a mess of things dawned on him when pictures of him with the girl began circulating online. He held a faint hope that you'd come across them. Taking it a step further, his company issued a statement, falsely claiming he was in a relationship with the girl, all to gauge your reaction. Yet, the most poignant moment of his realization came when your communication ceased altogether. Four years had passed, but the feelings he held for you refused to wane.

*

When was the last time you'd been in a relationship? Seven years ago. Navigating the complexities of dating, particularly with Korean men, had always been challenging. Dating in itself was a labyrinthine journey. Cultural barriers loomed, evident from a past experience where you had dated a coworker. The affair lasted six months before you left it behind to chase your dreams in France.

The day's schedule had concluded. Exiting the car, which belonged to Joshua, you entered the house. The dimly lit environment was guided only by the entrance's faint lights. The clock displayed 9 PM, suggesting your mother had rested for the night. While you temporarily occupied Joshua's room, he slept at a shared apartment with other members. A twinge of guilt tugged at you for taking over his space.

"Josh, are you asleep?" you called out to Joshua through phone call.

"No, I'm hanging out with the members. Have you eaten?" he responded.

Your circle was small—your family, Joshua, and your mother were your constants. But there was also Mingyu, in the past. While your connection had been stronger four years back, now it seemed to have faded to mere acquaintance status. Your recent meeting stirred up memories, though they weren't numerous. These fragments remained locked within you—the way he spoke, laughed over phone and video calls, even his quirks. You held them close. To Mingyu, you might be just a friend, but the nightly calls raised questions. Did friends talk every night? The emotions you held for him loomed large.

"No, I haven't eaten, Josh," you responded with a mumble.

"Do you want to join us? The guys wouldn't mind," he offered, prompting a series of voices from his fellow members asking "who?" before he informed them, "Y/n."

"I'll make some ramyeon; I don't want to bother," you replied.

"No worries. Should I come pick you up? Are you home?" he inquired.

A chuckle escaped you. "Josh, your car is with me," you reminded him, causing him to swear under his breath.

"Mingyu's about to arrive. He could give you a ride. You're friends, right?" he suggested.

And that suggestion solidified your decision to decline. "I'll just make some ramyeon. Goodbye, Josh. Have a great time!" You exhaled heavily as the call ended. The question nagged at you: Why did you always deceive yourself?

[liillyliilly]

The Princess, The Guard, And The Impossible Task

oikawa tooru x reader words; 4209 synopsis; oikawa's just a commoner, his only chance to become a knight rests on watching the king's alarmingly cold daughter.

There never was a chance for him was there?

Oikawa Tooru was doomed to never to be a Knight for the Royal Family.

He wants to, desperately. Being just a mere commoner under the King’s rule was never his intention, but it was the life he was born into. That didn’t stop him from going for what he desired. There was a type of shine and luxury to being a Knight, they fight and protect the Kingdom, and then in exchange they get treated the way they want. Royals had it easy and Oikawa hated the injustice of it all.

So, he worked for it. He trained every single day. Even when his hands were blistering and until his feet had callouses on the heels, he would train. The regime for being a Knight was easy to follow. Training and practicing, Oikawa advanced quickly through the ranks of workers under the King. No one could stand in the way of his raging war path to Knighthood.

His best friend Iwaizumi helped to continue his progress when the public trainings became too dull and repetitive for Oikawa. Always pushing him and challenging him with new maneuvers, new sword attacks, even hand to hand combat.

Nothing stood in Oikawa's plan except for the fact that Knighthood was only given to those of blue blood, only if they were connected somewhere through the Royal lineage, only then were they ever given the chance to be a Knight.

The desire he had to be a knight shone through, and he was given an opportunity. The personal guard of the King often scouted Royals to join the Knights, especially from the certain classes of trainees for normal sheriffs. As the lonesome guard observed the class, Oikawa stood out to him.

Already a knight, Iwaizumi joined Oikawa in classes occasionally, the only person who could actually match Oikawa's drive and intensity without losing a finger in the process.

The King's guard watched as the two elite participants practiced. Oikawa's form was perfect in the dueling portion of the class, and yet he didn’t bear the simple emblem of Royal lineage on his left breast pocket. This intrigued the guard, if a normal subject of the Kingdom could advance this quickly to a class of this level and beat most of the other students then Oikawa was surely special enough to be Knighted. When the guard talked to the King about it, the King denied his request for Oikawa to be put through Knight training.

If Oikawa wanted to be a Knight then he would have to prove it to the King by his standards. By protecting something, something the thing the King held valuable to him. His only child, his daughter. Oikawa had heard rumors of the difficulty to find proper protection over Princess L/N. At the time, all Oikawa could think of was that he wanted to be a Knight, so he took the King’s offer.

In a trade, the form of his opportunity took shape. He would be the personal guard to the Princess for a month, and then if after his time guarding her, if he still wanted to be a Knight, he would be given the Knighthood.

At the end of the first day, there she sat writing notes in her notebook as her personal tutor droned on and on. Oikawa thought he would die of boredom just standing at the door keeping watch, but the Princess looked content with making her notes look fancy and adding all types of brightly colored ink on the crinkled tan pages.

Dipping her quill into bright blues, bloody reds, and earthy greens. The quill spiraled across the page in cursive print worthy of being framed and hung on the walls of the palace. Oikawa was simply admiring her abilities, nothing else, he mused. Not her hands, or the way the ink would stick to her skin when she accidentally brought the quill to her neck as she paused. Leaving dots of all colors across her collarbone.

After knowing her for a single day, Oikawa understood why all her other guards didn’t work out in the end. She was well behaved, almost too well behaved. She never spoke out of turn, she never blurted out her personal thoughts, she didn’t even try to make conversation with Oikawa and just gave him curt nods or shakes of her head.

It was almost as if she had been stripped away of any personality. But there were moments that her true character shone through, and Oikawa soon found himself searching for ways to bring it out. Even if he was just guarding her as a way to achieve his own personal gain, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t help her in the process, now could it?

Only a week after beginning his post as Y/n’s guard when she looked at him, Oikawa thought he was going to die. Her intense gaze shook him to his very core. She was putting away her latest reads back onto the grand bookshelves of the Royal Library, Oikawa carrying around twelve books in his arms.

She feigned disinterest at the way his arms would bunch and tighten, the muscles acting as a testament of his dedication. She finally agreed with her father's choice in guard clothing, sleeveless. Next time she would see if he could carry fifteen books instead. She knew he could handle it.

“You are thinking about me.” She took another book from his grasp and stood on her toes to return it onto the shelf.

“No, Princess, of course I am not-” Oikawa flushed. His mind ran with thoughts of her finding out that he wasn’t actually a Royal, or that she would ask him to stop guarding her and then he would lose his chance to become a Knight.

“Stop trying to get to know me. It’s easier that way.” She grabbed two more books and placed them away, before turning on her heel to the next row of shelves. The musty scent of paper and dust hung in the air, the smell clearly belonged in the library. The way the shuffling of her feet against the carpet floors, also belonged. The way Oikawa could see her weaving in and out of the rows of books, she so clearly belonged in the library.

Oikawa had tried to conversate between her lessons, when she was out in the palace gardens, when she was doing small chores that he had tried to do instead. He was trying to know her, to make the companionship less of a bore and more of an enriching engagement in learning about the future ruler over the kingdom.

“If there is one thing that I cannot stand, Oikawa, it’s people who shove their noses into others’ business.”

Oikawa was playing her game now. She had challenged him the moment she had started talking, and she was winning. If she was going to be bold, then he was as well.

“And Princess, if there is one thing that I cannot stand, it is Princesses who hardly have any semblance of a personality.” Oikawa could have sworn he saw her smirk when she tried to hide her face behind the arm she was using to put away the last book from his hands.

She held her head high as they exited the library, she nodded to her servants that went about their way, cleaning and making preparations for the next ball. When they went down an empty hallway, she moved to face Oikawa, closing space between them as she threatened him.

“You will never know me. At least not the version of me you so stubbornly want to see.” As she went to put distance between them, Oikawa found himself wishing he could still smell the cocoa and coconut oil scent that radiated off of her.

“What if I told you that I already know everything about you?” Oikawa wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t oblivious, and he was most definitely not unaware of the way she flinched whenever her father walked into the same room as her. “You are hiding, hiding behind your façade of the perfect little Princess.”

Although he was desperate to know more. He wanted to know what she looked like in the morning just waking up, how her smile looked if she was kissing someone, him even, how all her little sounds worked together to narrate her pleasure.

She scowled at him before dropping the anger and putting up another mask of simple contentment as they reached her bedroom.

“And you have a secret, I can tell. So, I propose a race, of sorts, Oikawa. If you can figure out the real me then I’ll let my father Knight you early. If I can figure out whatever your secret is then you have to leave my Kingdom and never return.”

“Sounds like an impossible task Princess. It isn’t fair if you are never going to give me an opportunity to know the real you, as you so bluntly stated it.”

“Fine, I will adjust the conditions of this figurative race then. I will do my best to give opportunities for you to see who I am. That way, our game is fair.” She smiles at him before entering her room and shutting the door.

She never slammed the door on him. When she held the door open for him once, after a garden walk, he knew she wasn't like any Princess he had heard of from all the other kingdoms. Harsh, prissy, cruel, Princesses were the only kind of Princess? Or so he had thought before he became familiar with his own Princess.

Oikawa nodded his head in the face of her closed door, before taking his post to the side. Leaning against the wall, he rested his foot against the brick and let out a deep sigh. He really was playing a dangerous game with her. But he couldn’t let his growing feelings be the reason for his demise. In a game with Y/n, he couldn’t lose, or else everything he had worked for would have been for nothing.

As much as Oikawa wanted his interactions with her to be nothing but formal, professional, he often found that he crossed the line often. He was following her as she walked about the market, looking at all the wares foreign traders had come to sell and buy. Fresh fruits and crisp vegetables made the entire market area smell like a kitchen. As Oikawa caught a glimpse of the jewelry stands, he saw the necklace that had caught his eye. It was a simple chain, with a simple diamond, but it was colored in a way that looked exactly like his Princess’s eyes.

As Y/n inspected some of the ceramic vases available, Oikawa bought the necklace and placed it around his neck, hiding the diamond underneath his shirt. The metal was cold against his warm skin. But he felt comforted by the idea of having something that resembled her close to him. When she walked up to his side again, Oikawa coughed into his elbow, making her pay attention to him.

“You should get this one.” Oikawa pointed to a large and gaudy emerald ring. Y/n chuckled before nodding her head.

“If you ask me, Oikawa, it fits you a lot better than it fits me.” She states seriously and with a blank look on her face. Oikawa gasps, and fakes hurt by putting a hand to his forehead.

“Princess, you wound me.” Y/n pats his head before cooing slightly. Oikawa wishes he could have kissed her cheek in that moment. But then he remembers, he is her guard. She is a princess. Their relationship is nothing but a business exchange. It is not a friendship and as much as he wishes, it is not a courtship.

On the days she is quieter, Oikawa still talks to her. Even if she hardly responds. If he did get a response it was a simple upwards turn of her mouth, or a movement of her head. He rambles to her about random things, or of his opinions, and she listens. Oikawa had gotten used to people hearing him, but he never had someone listen to him.

“And the Knights are so, they just get to be and do whatever they want. I want that kind of freedom.” He exhales as Y/n continues to braid the fabric of the doll she is making.

“Why are you making a doll? You don’t have any in your room, or keep any in your spot in the library.”

Y/n hums, before cutting off a thread and setting the doll down onto the table. She shifts her chair so her chair is directly across from where Oikawa stood against her bedroom wall.

“Do you know how many children in this kingdom don’t have parents?” Oikawa shakes his head. “They deserve something for all they go through. So, I make these dolls, and have them delivered to the orphanages, anonymously of course.”

“Of course?” Oikawa questions.

“If my father knew that it was me doing this he would get upset, telling me to spend my time in a way that could actually come to an eventual fruition. Or at least a ‘noble cause’ as he calls it.”

Oikawa clenches his teeth. Over the days, his opinion of his King has lowered and lowered. The King is nothing but horrible to the servants, while Y/n makes up for it by being kind and forgiving. The King is brash and rude to the poor and needy, where Y/n does everything she can to provide a way of suitable living for all. If it was up to Oikawa, he would kick out the King and have Y/n rule. She would rule with a strong will but open mind.

Oikawa still needed to train, keeping in peak condition. But one day, he pushed himself too far and pulled a muscle. He kept groaning as he walked around with Y/n, his leg pulsing with hot blood and sore ligaments. After he had accidentally cursed as he stepped forward, Y/n stopped walking around the ballroom, holding the delicate decorations in her hand.

“Is there something bothering you Oikawa?” Worry was dripping on her words.

“Everything is fine, Princess.” When he takes a step forward, he falls from the lack of strength in his leg.

“Tooru!” Y/n immediately moves so that she is cradling his head. She takes a deep breath. “Oikawa, can you move?”

“Yes, I can. My leg is just-”

“You are lying. Stop lying to me. You clearly hurt your leg. Let me go get some help.” She offers, but Oikawa grips her hand.

“Don’t. If anyone found out that I was incapable of protecting you then my Knighthood would be at risk.” Y/n opened her mouth to say something but held back.

So, they just stay there. Oikawa resting his head on Y/n lap, trying to ignore the feeling of his leg aching, but focusing on the way she nervously runs a hand through his hair. He swears, as he looks up into her eyes, that he would protect her with his life.

If the game was supposed to be dangerous and scary, then why did Oikawa like playing it with her? He knew what the answer was, he likes her, that much is clear.

Later that evening, Oikawa rubbed his leg while sitting on his straw bed. The boarding for him was impromptu, but at least it was warm in the lowest level of the castle.

When a knock rapped at his door, he assumed Iwaizumi had finally come back from an assignment and wanted to share the stories of his adventures. His surcoat rested on his chair, leaving him in a loose linen top and brown fabric pants, the tie of his shirt undone and the expanse of his chest visible.

"Iwai, you lucky bastard-"

She coughed lightly into her arm, looking up to the casing as if it held the secrets of the world.

"Give me two moments." She nodded before stifling a laugh, shifting to a light giggle that he could hear from his side of the door.

Quickly tying his shirt up, and throwing his coat over his frame, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Princess, come in."

She was draped in a black cape, with a hood over her head. She looked around his room, grazing over his personal belongings that rested on his chest of drawers. She motioned for him to sit back down on his bed, he limped slightly. Pulling out a vial from her pocket, she patted his bad knee softly.

"Slide your pant leg up if you would please." How could she say something like that without any sort of hesitance? He obliged.

Slowly, she poured the vial into her hand little by little, rubbing the mixture over his calf, knee, and stopping midway up his thigh. It smelt of mint and lemon. She smiled at him wordlessly, leaving about a half full vial on his side table.

The feeling of her hands on his leg, caring and tender, made him lightheaded.

Days later, after what Oikawa now referred to as the pinnacle for his affections for his Princess, was the biggest hurt he had ever experienced. Sitting in the courtyard, she sat with her journal and a book, reading for minute before rushing to write her thoughts down onto her journal. Oikawa stole away her book, lifting it high above his head, leaving her jumping around him trying to get her book back.

“Why do you flinch whenever the King enters the room?” His question seemed like a simple one, maybe the shining gold of the King’s robes shined onto her eyes a little too much. Or perhaps his worst nightmare would be true. The nightmare that haunted him was that all Royals beat their kids into submission.

“My father is not a kind person, especially not when you are his only child and you have to deal with the highest expectations of perfection placed onto your shoulders.” She stops trying to jump, giving him the answer, the one he was looking for. Except now he didn’t want to know the answer. Oikawa holds onto her elbow keeping her close to him.

“That bastard. Who would even think to hit a child?” Oikawa sets the book down, looking at her as both of their eyes slowly sheen over with tears. He's supposed to be her guard, his only job is to protect her, and he feels horrible that he couldn’t protect her when she needed him most.

She swallows thickly before opening her mouth to croak out an answer, “A king would hit a child.”

She steals the book away from where it sat on the bench, grabbing her journal from Oikawa as well. Trying to exit the courtyard through the archway that is covered in flora. Oikawa lets her leave.

The next day when Oikawa has to take her into the ballroom to check the preparations, his impulse to block her from the King by rushing to put his arm in front of her can’t be stopped. Y/n lightly pushes his arm down and gives her father a side hug, as he goes on about her planning.

“The design really is beautiful, using the autumnal colors to decorate is pure genius.” The King rambles, and Oikawa has to stop himself from seething at his words. Oikawa clears his throat before speaking.

“Your majesty, may I talk to you about my Knighthood?” Y/n’s eyebrows shoot up and she gapes, her eyes wide.

“Don't you still have another week or so of guarding my child?”

“I would like to revoke my place of potential Knighthood.” Oikawa didn’t want to work for a corrupt leader, even if it gave him the opportunity for the easiest way out of leading a life as a simple cog in the machine of the Kingdom.

“Oh, really why is-”

“Father, mother called for you an hour ago. You must meet her, or else she might anger.” Y/n cuts in.

The king smiles at his daughter, cups her face in his hand before uttering a goodbye, “We will talk later Oikawa.” He nodded and made his escape, his long cape of expensive fabric trailing behind him.

Y/n turns to Oikawa, her bottom lip trembling slightly. “All you have ever wanted was Knighthood, why now do you choose to revoke your only chance of getting it? If it is because of what I told you the other day, please reconsider your reasoning. Oikawa, I will not let you throw away your opportunity.”

Oikawa would have begun arguing immediately, had it not been for her first sentence. “My only chance of getting Knighted?” Y/n covers her mouth with her hands, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“You know. You know I'm not of royal blood.” He whispers.

“I wasn’t going to tell you that I found out. You have to know that.” Y/n blinks a couple times to try and get rid of any possible tears.

“You figured it out and yet you didn’t make me leave the kingdom. Why?” Oikawa is glad that the ballroom in empty, leaving him and Y/n to stand in the center of the huge room. This confrontation wouldn't feel less important if it was in any other place. This conversation would feel as entangled and deep even if it was on a dirt path, if it was in the stables, anywhere.

“Because I like having you around Oikawa, is that not clear to you?” She goes silent as she waits for Oikawa to respond. She holds onto her skirt tightly, wrinkling the baby blue silk fabric. Oikawa rushes to kiss her. And she lets him. Her hand lets go of her dress as Oikawa wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, protecting her. When he swipes his tongue along her bottom lip, she backs up slightly before shaking her head and chuckling lightly.

“I love you.” He presses his lips to her neck, before nuzzling his nose into the curve between her shoulder and neck.

Y/n ruffles his hair, before kissing the crown of his head. She can’t stop the nerves that build in her chest though. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll revoke my demand of Knighthood. And resolve to keep being your personal guard.” Oikawa said it like it was gospel.

“What about,” She pauses before grabbing his face to make him look at her, “What about us?”

Oikawa wants to curl up into a ball and die. The rules of society seem dead set on keeping them apart. Royals don’t court, never mind marry, commoners. Oikawa thinks, he thinks harder than he ever has before. Royals can marry Knights. Oikawa can become a Knight, and then he can be with Y/n. He wants to kiss her, and instead of holding back he doesn’t. She lets out a stunned gasp before kissing back.

He nips at her bottom lip, and pushes on her neck so she faces up to him for a better angle. She wraps her arms around his neck and tilts her head to the side, moving her lips from his to his check, and then trailing light kisses along his jawline. Oikawa sighs.

She slips her hand to the front of his chest. Oikawa's ears turn cherry tinted. When she reaches in and pulls out his diamond necklace, he turns his face to the side to avoid eye contact.

"Really?" He nods. "I thought my mind had tricked me that time, you know, when I helped you out." For her it was like a mirror of her own eyes, seeing the same color shining right back at her.

When she reaches into the front of her own blouse, Oikawa's neck flares. She pulls out a similar necklace, with a slightly larger pendant, the same color as Oikawa's own eyes.

"Like milk chocolate," She holds the pendant up to his eyes, "It's not quite identical, I tried to get the jeweler to capture the right color but they just couldn't."

He kisses her open palm. He adjusts his surcoat, leaving his necklace visible over the fabric with royal insignia embroidered all over.

She furrowed her eyebrows then looked to the ground before meeting his eyes again. “You're going through with it. You are going to try to become a Knight, aren’t you?” Oikawa nods, his hair falling onto his forehead.

“But, what about-”

“I don’t want there to be any reasons for us not to be together. I can figure everything out, I promise.”

Oikawa was eventually Knighted, then he married Y/n. The commoner turned into a Knight, then into the future King. So, Oikawa supposes, there never was a chance of him being a Knight. Because now, he ruled the kingdom with the only person he could ever imagine to be right by his side, Y/n. He still called her ‘Princess’ though, purely from habit, and because he would always remember the kind of person he first knew her as.

[mirrored-movements]

A Rock and a Hard Place

(Miguel O'Hara x reader)

Synopsis: You'd always consider yourself an older sibling to the younger spider-folk, often taking them under your wing despite Miguel's distaste for it (Something you ignored knowing he'd have to just tolerate it) So what happens when you meet Miles and everything you'd looked at from behind rose-tinted glasses changes?

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE- YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED (Also plot change- sue me if you don't like it IG)

Since joining the Spider society you’ve accomplished three things:

One, taking anyone younger than you under your wing and practically acted as an older sibling to them. Two, established yourself as one of the higher ranking spider-people - Surprisingly enough, and three, somehow making it onto Miguel's good side- the man shockingly enough taking a liking to you despite the rambunctious and loud nature you had.

He was a grouchy man from what you could tell, stiff and nearly the equivalent to a locked box- however with enough prying and enough unannounced visits you found him beginning- albeit perhaps a bit reluctantly- warming up to you.

“You’re a pest (Y/N), you know that?” Letting out a deep sigh from where he stood Miguel casted his gaze back at where you sat, suit-clad feet resting up on one of the consoles while a screen hovering in front of you.

Some strange sitcom that you and Lyla had begun watching was playing across the screen.

Folding your arms over one another your gaze moved to meet his own, a playful hint to your expression. “Well if I’m a pest then why don’t you just kick me out?”

Starring at you for a good second he simply grumbled a few choice words, head shaking as you’d scrunched up your face in success.

You and Miguel were in some sort of unspoken relationship it seemed, neither wanted to say anything but also enjoying one another's presence to the extent that either of you would miss the other when they were gone on a mission.

“Whatever.” Rolling his eyes he huffed in annoyance, however the faintest of smiles quirked across his lips.

Moving to resume watching your show with Lyla the soft ping of your watch halted you from doing so, the edges of your lips fully quirking up at the series of messages sent from one of your ‘children’ as you’d like to refer to them.

Seeing you pop up and out of your chair he couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “Where are you going now?”

“Just going to check on the youngsters.” At the mention of that you could see Miguel roll his eyes, however, the man didn’t do anything to stop you merely just casting you a look that said ‘Stay out of trouble.’

Not that that was something you could easily do.

---

Honestly, you only meant to check in on Gwen and Pavitr, the latter of the two having sent you a quick message about the new guy who’d dropped in as well as the appearance of Hobi- much to your confusion. But upon arriving you were quickly met with- a mess.

“What even- what is that?!” Your feet skidded across the cement, the eyelets of your mask widening as you turned around to address the four standing behind you; almost as though the hole would somehow leap out and drag them in.

“Well, I said it was a metaphor for capitalism.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets Hobi mused out, his tall frame coming to peak into the void down below. “Poetic innit?”

You rolled your eyes at that, holding back a laugh knowing that the situation should be taken seriously. “I came here to say hello to the ‘new guy’ not deal with-” Looking down at the gaping hole you finished. “A black hole.”

“Sorry but mi-” “New guy? That’s me!” The slim form occupying the space beside Gwen piped in right away, the kid almost instantly hopping over to shake your hand despite you not offering it. “Miles Moralis, or Spiderman- but I mean Spiderman of my world of course but were not there right now obviously- so just call me Miles.”

Leaning to the side a bit in order to spare Gwen a look, your attention returned to Miles, eyes partially closing and hand returning the handshake. “Nice to meet you Miles, you seem like a good kid.” At the slight praise, he visibly perked up. “(Y/N) is the name.”

You already liked the kid.

Slumping a little as an arm was thrown over your shoulder Hobi leaned his weight onto you, other hand motioning towards where you stood. “(Y/N) is like our big siblin, we can get away with anythin- well almost anythin.” Using his hand to cover part of his mouth as though he were telling a secret he added on. “They’re a little cushy with the big man though so-”

“Ok ok enough of that,” Cutting Hobi off and shaking off his arm you let out a mix between a huff and a laugh. “It’s nice to meet you though.” It was your turn to cover part of your mouth, “Gwen talks a lot about you.”

“Hey-” “Sorry not sorry!”

There was some more quick conversation between the three of you, Pavitr coming to join soon after inquiring on how his world would be- to which despite not knowing what had happened or who they were facing- you decided to reassure him.

Something that Jess did as well when her and a few others arrived in order to assess the damage and whatnot.

She seemed a little displeased with your presence however waved it off and gave you the brief instructions to bring the others; Hobi, Miles, and Gwen, back to HQ.

“The big boss- what’s he like?” Coming to walk beside you Miles spoke, hand fiddling with the day pass he’d been given in order not to glitch out.

“Scary-” “Kinda like a dictator a little.”

You gave Gwen and Hobi a look at their comments, the two hushing right after upon knowing how you and the man they spoke of were.

“He’s straightforward,” You began casting a quick look towards Gwen, “maybe a little scary,” Your eyes then moved back ahead. “But he had what’s best for all of us in mind.” Since entering HQ You’d taken off your mask, deciding now yo flash Miles a reassuring smile. “He has a kind heart and I trust in his decision.”

Taking your words to mind he nodded his head, a question popping into his brain quickly. “Uh are you and you know this boss uh-” “They're fuck buddies, respectfully.”

“Hobi!” Nearly hissing his name you flashed him a glare, finger pointing accusingly his way before your attention quickly returned to Miles opting to correct what was said. “Miguel and I aren’t fuck buddies- Just close, I mean I’d like to say we’re close.”

“That's why I’m saying you’ll be fine.”

---

Boy did you feel like a liar.

With the way Miles stared at you in disbelief- you might as well have traveled into his world to kill his dad yourself.

You had no clue this was the course of things, no clue of the pent-up anger and resentment held for the boy you’d just met, and you certainly had no clue he was going to contain Miles to a cage- basically.

Now, you just stood back, stunned at what was going on and stunned at the way Miguel handled the situation.

“Miguel, this- this isn't right.” Raising a hand you moved to place it on the man's arm, his attention flickering over to you. The angered and irritated look he had when addressing Miles softened only a bit as he spoke.

“This is what needs to happen. For his sake. For your sake. For all of us.”

Your heart fell at this, Miles’s banging against the containment shields growing more frantic until it stopped- a wave of electricity firing from the device or rather from Miles rendering it deactivated.

The shockwave had sent everyone tumbling to the floor, the first one to act being Miguel who’d lurched forward clawing at the ground in order to move quicker.

Your eyes met Peters from across the floor, a torn look being shared between you two- however, unlike you, he’d gotten up right away following after the herd.

Sucking in a few breaths trying to make a decision you’d slipped on your own mask, webs firing from your wrists in quick succession.

Your mind was made up.

You’re helping the kid go home.”

---

“Miguel!” Finally finding yourself catching up enough to call out you swung from side to side in order to avoid the traffic within the highway to the moon, body right away swinging full throttle into the man having caught him while he’d been pinning Miles. “This is wrong! What’s wrong with you?”

Recovering quickly from being tackled he stared back at you, a glare clearly shining through his mask as clawed hands gripped the vehicle you’d swung into. “This has to be done (Y/N)! You can’t change what is already written.” Despite not wanting to engage in a fight he let out an irritated breath, hand roughly gripping your shoulder intending to move once he’d noted Miles recovering.

“He’s just a kid!”

“He’s an anomaly!” Having enough Miguel shot his own web forward, the force of it dragging himself and by default you away from the vehicle you’d dragged him into, “He shouldn’t exist in the first place!” Shouting the last part he shot another web forward intending on continuing his pursuit.

“That’s not for you to decide!” Following suit and firing your own web you caught up quickly, heart hammering within your chest as you’d begun trying to deter him. “You preach for justice but is this really is?!”

“Stop interfering (Y/N)!”

Coming to swing at his side once more he caught your leg using your momentum to toss you back. “Just stay down!”

“I can’t!” 

The (F/C) strings of your webs came back, splatters of them sticking to Miguel's mask, inevitably leading him to backtrack for a moment- the surprise on your face must’ve been evident as you hadn’t expected to be football tackled and pinned to the side of the tunnel. Miguel’s angered frame towered over you, the front of his mask deactivating for a second as he spoke, ruby hues boreing through your mask.

“It’s me, or him (Y/N).”

Biting your tongue at the statement you watched his jaw tighten, gaze hardening at the lack of response.

Without much else to say he’d raised a hand, neon webs right away stucking your limbs down despite the protests that left your lips.

“Miguel wait-” “We’ll talk when I get back.”

Rising back up he casted you one last look, something that was almost disappointment before bolting off.

To say you were stuck between a rock and a hard place was an understatement.

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

<Unedited>

Little but rushed tbh bc the exact plot of ATSP is escaping my brain at the moment <3

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 13

First / Previous / Next

Katara found her life shifting to fit a new routine. Zuko would come to the South Pole every two to three months. While Katara healed the injured soldiers, Zuko and Iroh met with her father and Bato, and the Earth Kingdom supplies were traded for the few things they had an overflow of.

She realized that some of the supplies from the Earth Kingdom were metals forged into spear heads and arrow tips. Hunts became easier, with more deadly equipment able to fell wild tiger moose and arctic caribou in only a few shots, rather than a slow trailing hunt. For once, they had enough to breath.

Its in the evening, as they feast and celebrate, Zuko tells Katara about his travels. Sokka hovers each night, supposedly still wary of the prince, but Katara has a feeling he just wants to hear about the rest of the world too. Zuko had traveled a fair amount, but was restricted to Fire Nation friendly ports, while also avoiding selling the Southern goods at towns controlled by the Fire Nation. Mostly, he got around it by traveling further inland from Fire Nation ports that wouldn't look to closely at his cargo.

Zuko had been to a small town called Gaipon, where he had sold some lamp oil in exchange for some berry wine and a few crafted spear heads. In a somewhat large city called Goa Ling, he and the soldiers had donned Earth Kingdom disguises, selling the rest of the lamp oil and the crate of arctic crab that the nobles in the area went crazy for. Kyoshi Island was closer to the South, but isolated and rarely went off the island, so they took an interest in anything Zuko had left over on his way back, once they deemed him not a threat.

Before Katara knew it, it had been nearly a year and a half since she had returned home. She vaguely realized that she had missed Zuko's 14th birthday, and that his 15th was close. She mused the thought aloud at dinner one night, and her parents seemed intrigued.

The next time Zuko returned, she met up with him to find the Fire Nation Prince stumbling out of a tent, traditional Southern Water Tribe blue covering him. His face was bright red, his hair redone in a version of a Southern Warriors wolf tail. He seemed embarrassed as he shifted around, hands fisted in gloves at his sides.

"Sorry Katara," her father said as he came out of the tent, a firm hand placed on the back of Zuko's neck, the way she'd seen him do to Sokka when her brother wasn't to keen on following orders. "But Prince Zuko will be spending the day with us."

Before she could get any answers, her father was leading a grumbling firebender to the village wall, joining with Bato and a pair of boys that had just turned fourteen. She wondered what could possibly be going on, and went to Iroh for answers. Of course, the man was good at keeping secrets, and somehow pulled her into a game of Pai Sho. They played for hours, Katara's mind drifting to what her father and Bato could possibly be doing, only for Iroh or soldiers to distract her.

When they finally returned, Zuko was wide eyed and laughing, as if shocked by his own delight. He and the two other boys were dragging a large Arctic caribou behind them. Across each brow was a mark of the tribe. When Katara got close enough, she saw the mark of the trusted painted across Zuko's brow.

"You took him hunting?" Katara snapped at her father. "And ice dodging? Dad! That's so dangerous! Zuko didn't grow up in the South! He could have been seriously hurt!"

"It's fine," her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her. He turned, and Katara followed his gaze to where more of the older boys were gathering around Zuko, laughing as they seemed to share stories of ice dodging and first hunts. "Zuko has earned a place in the tribe. He has done us a great service, returning you, and helped us still since then." He paused. "He has become someone the tribe can rely on."

Katara watched her friend as a young warrior, a boy who had joined the warrior ranks two years ago, gave Zuko a joking shove. Zuko, despite his momentary scowl, shoved back in a similar manner, setting the warrior into howls of laughter. For the first time in what seemed like years, Zuko seemed almost at ease.

When he looked at her, he smiled, lifting his hand in an awkward wave. She lifted her own hand to do the same, only for someone to say something to Zuko that got his face flaming red and start wrestling in the snow. It quickly devolved into a free for all, all in good fun.

Katara watched on, wishing that Zuko would stay, let himself be happy here in the tribe, where he felt free enough to laugh so openly. But she knew, come morning, he would be off once again, chasing a ghost.

First / Previous / Next

[supersaiyanjedi14]

SABEZRA WEEK: Day 1 (Oct 23): In Between

*Ten years is a long time.  A lot can happen, a lot can change.  As Sabine Wren settles into a routine on Lothal, she reflects on what has changed since that fateful day, both with the galaxy at large and regarding her feelings for Ezra.* 

For all her life, Sabine Wren had known action and movement.  Mandalorian upbringings were full of activity by their nature, and the realities of life on the Ghost meant that staying still could be disastrous.  She had gotten used to being on the move, never staying in one spot too long (not for lack of trying), and her schedule being determined almost exclusively by the mission of the day or the Empire's less-than-wanted input on the subject.  All of that together, it was just one of the numerous things that made her current situation alien and unusual for her. 

She had initially been content with a small apartment in Lothal City, but the comm tower seemed to loom over her in more ways than one.  In what seemed like no time at all, she had moved into the tower. 

Ezra's tower. 

She had been living here for a few years now, and in that time she had taken up the surprisingly alien notion of a schedule.  Wake up, feed the Loth-cat, check the filtration systems, tune up the speeder, head into town for whatever groceries or parts she needed, train and exercise, eat, shower, go to bed.  Rinse and repeat.  Social calls were few and far between, though that only made the occasional meeting with Ryder a very welcome departure from the norm. 

This isn't to say that Sabine was completely out of the loop for what was happening beyond Lothal.  She had kept up with every scrap of news on the Rebellion she could find, scouring for any mention of Hera, Zeb or Rex.  She had stood in shock with everyone else when news of Alderaan reached their ears.  She had waited with baited breath as the rebellion grew into a full-blown galactic war.  She had been especially interested in the rumors of a new Jedi joining their ranks. 

Yet that last point also made her other ruminations more painful.  Even if she hadn't been literally living in his house, Sabine knew she could never get her mind off of Ezra.  Of all the incredible things that had happened that day, the most powerful blow remained that he was gone.  Ezra, Specter 6, the loth rat stowaway, the annoying kid of the team, the up and coming Jedi Padawan, the rising star of Phoenix Squadron, her crewmate, her partner, her best friend... 

And the thing that gnawed at her most of all, was her musings that he may be something more. 

As she poured kibble into Murlay's bowl, Sabine thought back to a conversation she had once had with her brother.  A conversation that she had vehemently denied was anything more than Tristan teasing her. And yet she still kept coming back to it. 

“So he is a friend.” 

“No duh, osik-head.” 

“And he’s a boy.” 

“That doesn’t make him my-!“ 

“Seems like it does.” 

“We’re just friends! Nothing more!” 

“Seems like you’re a little more than friends.” 

“We’re not!” 

Were they? 

Despite her insistence, Sabine had ended up painting a (if she did say so herself) pretty impressive portrait of the young Jedi. When he had returned to Krownest mere weeks later, it had taken every ounce of her willpower to keep herself from running over to hug him. Was that something you did if you were just friends? 

Well, Sabine had been mulling it over for six years now, and she was nowhere closer to an answer than before. Even the multitude of conversations she had had with Hera had never ventured to discission how she was starting to feel about her wayward friend. An impromptu interview with a rising star of the Rebellion with a vested interest in Jedi had turned semi regular whenever he was in the system, yet some of her ruminations left her even less sure than she had been before. And that didn’t even begin to account for what he might be thinking. If he was even- 

Sabine stopped herself. Thinking like that would only set her even further off course. No, Ezra was not dead. He was out there somewhere. And one way or another, she would bring him home, with or without help. This she swore. 

Scratching Murlay behind the ears as he started to eat, Sabine rose to her feet and made her way to a small box under the bed. Rummaging through the contents, she found what she had been looking for. Of all the things that had been added to her routine, lightsaber training was certainly one of the more unique. She had added the emitter shroud herself to satisfy an urge to tinker, but it was otherwise the same as when he had left it to her all those years ago. Walking out onto the balcony, Sabine took a deep breath and ignited the emerald blade. She took herself through a few practice velocities, nothing fancy or significant, but enough for the dancing blade to do its surprisingly calming magic. Ahsoka had told her that some Jedi could use their lightsaber sequences to facilitate a form of moving meditation, where the repetition of the action gradually became instinctive, enabling the Jedi to dedicate their mental energies to other tasks. Sabine wasn’t quite sure she could get to that point (Hyuyang certainly didn’t think so), but it was close enough. 

Some day she would find him. Some day she would bring him home. Between now and then, she would do what she had been doing. Who knows? She might even figure out just what Ezra Bridger meant to Sabine Wren. 

And when that day finally came; well, she always had a knack for finding the appropriate time for fireworks. 

[glory-hasnoplacehere]

Anzu Ames is here y'all. Resident slime boy creature.

Welcome!

[burstingdragons]

Dragon Rage (Ongoing)

The two locked eyes, neither Dragneel backing down as the implications were quite clear now.

"You're going to choose who lives and who dies today."

Zeref waited for the predictable denial. He saw the words began to form on the pink-haired man's lips before they were swallowed. There was a clear inner battle between Natsu Dragneel and Etherious Natsu Dragneel. Just like he wanted.

"No." The dragon slayer advanced forward, even closer to Zeref. "I won't."

The widest grin ever formed on Emperor Spriggan's features.

"How unfortunate." He mused before raising his voice over the now buzzing crowd. "As you can see our esteemed and honored guest does not have the courage in him to make the decision. Therefore, as emperor of our great nation, I will make it for him. All three wizards before you today, although vastly different in both rank and magic power, are under scrutiny for the same violation. Makarov Dreyar, Hisui E. Fiore, and Lucy Heartfilia, as well as Wendy Marvell, have been caught for conspiracy against the Alvarez Empire. As a result of their crimes and my gracious brother unable to follow his own emperor's orders, all three shall be to put to death." He smiled cunningly. "The floor is yours, Ajeel."

"NO!" Natsu lunged for the immortal but was immediately frozen in a solid block of ice by Invel. Fire erupted from that cubed prison as shards of ice exploded in all directions. An enraged dragon walked out of the billowing smoke, eyes flashing between black and red.

________________________________________________________

Curious to read more? Well, good news! You can read all 16 (technically 17) current chapters of Dragon Rage right now or at any time of your choosing over on FanFiction or Archive of Our Own! See you on the other side!

Dragon Rage is a story that primarily follows Natsu Dragneel and Lucy Heartfilia past the conclusion of the Tartaros arc.

Story Summary: In the blink of an eye his lifelong dreams were shattered. Then the last remnants of his family vanished. Fairy Tail's sudden exodus adds fuel to an already raging fire—one ignited by tragedy. A hellish future awaits them all and Lucy must make a choice: join Natsu on his new path or walk away and watch him fall to the darkness. NaLu Post-Tartaros

[littlemourningstarr]

Introductions (And New Beginnings)

For once, a visit to Lolth's Cradle doesn't feel daunting, but renewing. And even if Sekh is there with a purpose, it is still pleasing to see old friends again.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, lots of future plot set up, underage drinking, who gave Yenna whiskey

The streets of Lolth’s Cradle were lively, but in a different way than Sekh and Astarion had last seen. Already there was a more diverse population walking the streets- a steady stream of drow, yes- but the hobgoblin numbers had arisen, and Sekh was silently pleased to notice none of them seemed to be dressed in the drab clothing of slavery he had previously seen. Duergar still made up a number of roaming inhabitants- but Sekh noticed now a number of svirfneblin- deep gnomes- had joined the ranks, and seemed to be moving without fear.

Next to him, Yenna was glancing around, green eyes wide and dancing at the sights. While Dalyria’s keep was indeed impressive, he knew it wasn’t a drow city- and he had to admit, he had a bit of pride welling in his chest over his girl seeming in awe at his culture.

For all its faults, Sekh still had some pride in his drow heritage.

He rounded a familiar corner, pausing outside the comforting sight of Wriath’s Lullaby. He smiled to himself, before he chanced a glance back at Astarion, who stood just a step behind him and Yenna.

The vampire seemed pleased as well, at the sight of the tavern. At the silent knowledge that within, there were friends.

And next to him, Dalyria was looking with just as much awe as Yenna.

Sekh pulled the door open, stepping in, his little party following. The tavern was bustling wildly- far busier than he even remembered. Behind the bar was a male drow he didn’t recognize, along with another flitting about the crowds, quite audibly checking in on patrons.

Had Dezz and Brindell hired help? Sekh had kept up communication with them via letters, and Dezz had mentioned that the tavern was busier than ever, but she hadn’t mentioned help.

He headed for the bar, just as the door to the back opened- and there was a familiar face. Brindell, with his pale blonde waves shockingly free, holding a rather large parchment and pen, as if he had been taking stock. He glanced up, and the moment he saw Sekh his face split into a huge grin.

Sekh wasn’t braced for him to run around the corner of the bar, to throw himself on him- but he had to admit, it was a lovely feeling. He wrapped his arms around the other drow, holding him tightly, rocking slightly as Brindell pressed his face into Sekh’s shoulder.

When he finally stepped back, there was a rather cute pink to his pale, purple hued skin. “Dezz said you were planning on visiting, but I still always half expect to never see you again.”

Sekh grasped one of his arms. “Never my friend.” Brindell glanced past Sekh and utterly beamed at Astarion, before he noted the rest of Sekh’s party- Yenna, standing at his side, looking attentive- and Dal, looking a bit confused.

“More new faces,” Brindell mused, before he switched from drowic to common, “sorry, I wouldn’t want to keep them out of the conversation.”

And, in nearly perfect drowic, Yenna said with a smug grin, “Don’t worry, I could understand you.” Brindell’s red eyes widened a bit, before he gave Sekh a proud little smile.

“She speaks like she was born here. Better than Astarion, even.”

The vampire scoffed, moving up to Sekh’s side. “Excuse me, I speak perfectly fine, thank you.” The vampire’s mock offense fell, and Brindell hugged him next, clinging just as tightly to the elf as he had to Sekh. Astarion went so far as to reach up, stroke back some of his hair- and Sekh heard the way Brindell’s breath caught.

The poor, easily flustered, precious thing.

“Give me a moment,” Brindell said, straightening up, “and we can talk somewhere quieter.” He moved back to the bar, saying something to the barkeep, who glanced past him, quite obviously taking in Sekh and the group. While Sekh might have expected a bit of morbid curiosity from the drow’s stare, considering his party was definitively not drow, there was only a look of gentle intrigue, before he nodded, and went back to work.

Brindell moved back around the bar, gesturing for the group to follow him. Sekh had expected that they might move to the back room, make the descent to Brindell and Dezz’s living quarters-

But instead they moved for the door, leaving the tavern completely. They crossed the street, approaching a cozy black stone building, which was built directly against its neighbors. Brindell fished out a key, opened the door, and gestured for the group to step inside.

The moment they were inside, the sounds of the city seemed to fall away. Faintly, Sekh could still hear the commotion on the streets, if he tried to listen- but inside it was the gentle tick of a clock, located off in another room- and from the set of stairs that faced the door, the melodic sound of music.

“Business has been good,” Brindell said, before Sekh could ask. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “We finally got a real place, instead of just the basement of the tavern.” He paused, a sweet, content smile spreading across his lips. “Never honestly thought it would happen.” He cleared his throat then, nodding towards the stairs. “Dezz is upstairs. She’d be royally pissed if I didn’t bring you right over to her.”

Sekh didn’t doubt that. He began up the stairs, the group following, the sound of music growing slightly louder. It was a soft melody, something soothing that sat in the background, could cradle the thoughts in one’s skull. It was coming from an open door, and when Sekh peeked inside, he found Dezz sitting at a desk, a mess of papers and parchment spread out. The music was coming from a little music box next to her- obviously enchanted to play an endless loop while it was opened.

“Hello stranger,” Sekh said. She tensed, before she turned- and the tension melted away. She grinned, drawing lines along her mouth and red eyes, before she shoved her chair back and stood up.

Sekh entered the room, moving right to her, accepting an embrace within her well defined arms. Gods, the muscle felt harder than the last time he had seen her. She was solid under his hold, warm- and he found it easy to relax against her.

When he stepped back, he took her in- she had chopped most of her pale blonde hair off, so it sat in messy waves along her temples, some strands curling behind her ears. But otherwise she had those same red eyes, that seem stark smile, that he remembered.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, grasping his arms, squeezing at his biceps. She paused, her smile turning wicked. “Why you feel solid. Have you been hauling your little vampire around over your shoulder?”

“Why does everyone assume I’m the one carried around?” Astarion asked, sweeping properly into the room and right up to the two.

“Because you’re built like a prince from one of those haughty, lewd novels that should be carried over the threshold of every room.” Astarion scoffed, but accepted the hug Dezz offered him- making a rather undignified, surprised noise as she hoisted him off his feet and actively spun around once, to prove her point. Once she had set him down, she glanced at the two new faces- Yenna, properly in the room, looking at her with excited eyes- and Dalyria, a few paces back, just beyond the door frame, where Brindell was now leaning, the drow grinning. “New faces?”

“This,” Sekh said, gesturing for Yenna to walk up properly, “is our Yenna.” The girl grinned, offering a full half bow- and Dezz, to her credit, gave a mock gasp and clutched at her chest.

“Charming.”

“I try.” Yenna said it with such ease that Dezz glanced at Sekh.

“Drowic?”

“She was a better student than Astarion.” The vampire frowned. Sekh turned towards Dalyria, switching to Common. “And this is Dalyria- Astarion’s… sister.” He paused, so Dalyria could give a little wave. “I haven’t yet gotten to teach her or any of the spawn undercommon.”

Dezz folded her arms, studying the new vampire. “Still wild to me that just a few days east there’s a whole hoard of vampires.”

“Your common is so smooth,” Dalyria said, stepping closer, quite obviously relaxing now that she knew she could communicate. “Have you been to the surface?”

“Not even once,” Dezz admitted. “Brindell and I taught ourselves in case the chance ever arose. But honestly, things have been good since little Sekh here helped overthrow the last house matron.” She jabbed an elbow into Sekh, who couldn’t help but smile. “We may never even need to.” She moved away then, shoving some papers around on her desk and hopping up onto it, sitting comfortably. She gestured to her chair, and Dalyria took the invitation, settling herself neatly.

Yenna hopped up onto the other side of the desk, kicking her legs a bit, not even hiding that she was trying to read any of the words scribbled on all of those papers.

“You’re here with a purpose,” Dezz said, “so spill it pretty boy.”

“I want to introduce Dalyria to Vrynelle.” Sekh placed a hand on the back of Dalyria’s chair. “The spawn have built a little world for themselves, but I think it might be good for them to interact with others.”

“I don’t disagree,” Dalyria said, “but I fear letting them loose in a city without some assurance that they won’t be immediately hunted.”

Duzz hummed. “Listen, we see every bit of life in this city- honestly, even more now that Nendra is dead- may her soul rot in the demon webs.” Behind them, Brindell snorted a little laugh in the doorway. “Vampires would be less unusual than just surface dwellers.” Dezz's face softened a bit. “But I imagine they are your family, and I understand wanting to protect them.”

She glanced back for a moment at Brindell, before turning her attention back to Sekh and Dalyria.

“I’ve meant every word in my letters, that Vrynelle has been good for this place. There was a bit of a tense transition period when she suddenly broke up the slavers selling on the streets- but that gave room for the rest of our city to flourish. Case in point- we have a home that isn’t under the tavern.”

Sekh appreciated the assurance. Dezz had spoken quite highly of Vrynelle in all of her letters, but ever since leaving after Nendra’s death, Sekh hadn’t spoken a word, written or otherwise, to the current house matron. He had nothing to go off of but his friend’s words and his gut.

But his gut had told him to continue trusting Vrynelle.

“We don’t have a lot of extra room,” Dezz said, bringing Sekh back from his thoughts, “but you’re all welcome with us. I promise it is more comfortable here than over the tavern.”

Sekh wouldn’t have cared if they had all been sleeping on the floor back in the basement of the tavern- he was just excited to be among his friends again.

*

Sekh noted that the guards outside the Duskryn house seemed less sullen than they had, upon his last visit. One wasn’t even a drow- but a stocky duergar woman, who was actually chatting with the drow standing at her post.

Sekh walked up the steps, and they paused their conversation, taking him in. He gave a half bow with an easy smile, offering up before they could ask, “I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping the house matron might have time for a… friend.”

The drow studied him, before her brows shot up in recognition. “You, I remember you.” She stepped closer, but Sekh noticed her body was relaxed. “You helped take out Nendra.”

Sekh offered a bit of a cheesy smile. The drow didn’t seem upset at him for it, which was a good sign. “I may be guilty of a bit of political uprise, yes.”

The duergar snorted, giving a deep chuckle. “He’s good in my book if he got rid of that annoying twat.”

“Gerryn,” the drow groaned, yet she didn’t disagree. The duergar just waved her off.

“Let us check that she’s available. Wait right here- and try not to cause another insurrection?” Sekh gave a nod, and the duergar stepped inside, leaving him with just the female drow guard.

“I expected a bit more of a hostile welcome,” he admitted. The drow leaned against the large halberd she was holding, looking almost aloof.

“Gerryn really wasn’t wrong- Nendra was a twat to put it nicely. I don’t serve the house because I feel some fealty towards the Duskryns- it’s a job, at the end of the day. And Vrynelle is quite an improvement.”

Sekh was relieved to hear it- he had wanted his gut to be right about the other drow, but he knew better than to put full faith in it.

The duergar reappeared quickly, a hobgoblin behind her- one that Sekh recognized. He had been present during his last visit- had been one of what he presumed were Vrynelle’s personal slaves.

He was dressed far differently now- even boasting a pin with the house sigil on it. He grinned when he saw Sekh, motioning for him. “The lady will gladly see you.”

*

The door was opened for Sekh and he stepped in. What had once been Nendra’s office was now filled with vibrant works of art- the mess of maps that had been along the wall replaced with paintings. Various flora were settled in vases and pots around the room, offering a number of pulsing lights.

And sitting at the old desk, pen in hand, working at a stack of paperwork, was Vrynelle. She looked much the same- her white curls free about her shoulders. She was dressed almost plainly in drow aristocratic sense, not boasting any of the showy bits of armor Nendra had worn, as if the previous matron had needed those around her to think she was some great warrior.

Vrynelle pushed her chair back as the door shut, leaving Sekh alone with her. “I almost didn’t believe it was really going to be you,” she admitted, standing to her full height- still shorter than Sekh, but the heels of her boots added an additional inch. Before Sekh could speak she crossed the room, briskly walking to him-

And tossing her arms around him. She embraced him tightly, and Sekh returned it, before Vrynelle leaned back, studying him.

“But gods be praised, it is you.” She gestured towards her desk, and Sekh followed her, perching on the corner of it as she settled back into her chair. “You could have written.”

“I figured you’d be a bit busy. Running a city doesn’t just happen overnight.” Vrynelle flashed a smile.

“No, it doesn’t. But I assume you’ve had someone updating you on how it has been going- and making sure I’m not becoming my sister- Lolth take her.” When Sekh didn’t answer, Vrynelle added, “I’m not asking for names, Sekh’met. I am just beyond sure that you have other contacts in the city. That is your business, not mine.”

Sekh saw no point in denying it.

“I also presume this isn’t a social call- although I must admit, a social call would be quite welcome.” Vrynelle paused, added, “It’s still quite lonely here, even without Nendra’s shadow consuming me.”

Sekh felt almost bad, in that moment, that it wasn't. It had seemed fairly obvious that Vrynelle hadn’t had friends, when Nendra had still lived. Friends would translate to allies, and that is something the late house matron would have not tolerated, Sekh was sure

“It’s not,” he admitted. Vrynelle gave a little nod. “But perhaps after, it can be.”

“If you’d trust having a glass of wine with me, I would be forever in your debt.”

Sekh had to smile at that. “Promise not to poison me?”

Vrynelle laughed at that, tipping her head back. “Swear it on this city. You’re not my type, Sekh. I only like women- and the consenting kind.” She stood up then, heading for a side table and flipping over two glasses. She lifted a bottle of wine and filled both quite full, carrying them back and offering one to Sekh. “And I have a feeling I’m not your type, either.”

Sekh took the glass, the wine a very light color, like pale sun. A dry white. “Believe It or not, despite my devilishly handsome husband, I have bedded plenty of women.”

Vrynelle’s eyes seemed to dance at the mention of husband, but she didn’t push. She raised her glass in a silent toast- to what, neither specified- and Sekh took a sip of the wine. “Speaking of, where is Astarion?”

“Off in the city, causing mild trouble I’m sure.” Sekh had considered bringing his entire entourage to the meeting, but in the end ultimately decided it would be best if he spoke to Vrynelle alone first. “I have a proposition for you.”

Vrynelle arched a delicate brow, taking a healthy drink of her wine. “Proposition? Look at you, being political.”

Sekh snorted. “Hardly. Look- Astarion’s family is here in the Underdark. His sister runs a keep with over a hundred vampires. They’re isolated, and I think they could benefit from purpose.” When Vrynelle didn’t interject, Sekh continued. “Many of them had trades they were skilled in. They’re growing resources they don’t need themselves. Resources perhaps the city might need.”

Vrynelle glanced at her wine, and Sekh watched her upend it, downing the rest. She stood, walking back to the side table, refilling it. “You’re asking me to welcome vampires into my city?”

“Yes. They’re in control of themselves, Vrynelle. They’ve been free of their former master for years. If they couldn’t control their hunger, they were put down.”

Vrynelle leaned against the small table, looking into her wine. After a moment, she sighed, sounding resigned. “I think before I knew you even I would think this a disastrous idea. But frankly, if you trust them… I want to.” She turned her stare back up to Sekh. “I haven’t truly trusted someone in so long, it’s freeing and terrifying. Just to be clear.”

Sekh offered her a soft smile. “It’s a good feeling, to trust again.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I am.” Sekh stood from the desk, didn’t bother launching into any tirade regarding his experiences over the past years- how he hadn’t trusted anyone aside of Syl until the Nautiloid had stolen him away and thrust him into a whole new world, a new life- with people who reminded him he could trust, with his whole heart, his whole being.

Vrynelle gave a second, more dramatic sigh. “Fine,” she said, “bring in your little vampires and I’ll welcome them with open arms.”

“If you’d like to meet one, I can arrange that. I promise she’s a treat.”

Vrynelle gave a sly, playful smile, nearly purring, “She?” And Sekh, he laughed.

“Yes, she.” Sekh set his glass down, offering his arm. “Allow me to escort you, mistress.”

Vrynelle took it, and Sekh felt a bit of calmness coming over him- that his gut had been right, to trust her.

*

Sekh had been right that his party hadn’t strayed much into the city- but had simply moved back across the street to Wraith’s Lullaby. By now the tavern was bustling, teeming with patrons. Brindell was running about, from one set of patrons to the next, while Dezz stood with her hands on her sturdy hips, eyeing the work of the bartender that Sekh didn’t know very closely.

When they stepped in though, the chaos seemed to calm down for a moment- heads turning to openly stare at Vrynelle. Yet Sekh didn’t feel as if it was in fear.

She smiled, a practiced, pretty one, and gave a little wave, before curling tighter to Sekh’s arm. And just like that, the tavern resumed its rowdiness. Had that been Nendra, Sekh was sure the tavern would have burst with many trying to get close to her, to earn her favor.

He didn’t think anyone needed Vrynelle’s- it was just freely given.

He could see Astarion, Dal, and Yenna at a table off in the corner, and escorted Vryenlle over. Astarion was in the middle of raising his cup to his lips when he saw them, and lowered it, grinning wide enough to show off his fangs. “Your majesty,” he teased, as they neared, Vrynelle reaching for a chair and settling down without much grace, body going loose as if she found it relaxing to be in the vampire’s presence.

Sekh presumed she did.

“Your grace,” she taunted back, giving a bow of her head. Sekh could see her eyes gleaming, and Astarion chuckled. Sekh could tell he was still guarded, as Sekh himself had been- but less so than if they were with a stranger. “Back to stage another coup?”

“Do we need to?”

“I hope not.”

“Good. Grand.” Astarion picked up his glass, giving a little wave between Vrynelle and Yenna, and the girl leaned her elbows on the table, looking at Vrynelle with these large, adoring eyes. She had looked at Dalyria in a similar way- as if she was seeing magnificence for the very first time.

Sekh wanted to laugh. His Yenna had a type, it seemed.

“I’m Yenna,” she said in her ever perfect drowic, “ignore Astarion. He’s an ass.” Astarion reached over with his free hand, messing with her short hair.

“A human speaking drowic? Today really is a day to remember.” Vrynelle glanced at the cup Yenna had in front of her. “What are you drinking little one?”

“Whiskey.”

“What?” Sekh glanced from Yenna to Astarion, as the vampire finished off his wine. Yenna had begun drinking wine on the occasion, and Sekh wasn’t naive enough to think she and her friends didn’t get into trouble- but to just be openly drinking whiskey, that had to be far stronger than any she had snagged on the surface, was a new level of brass.

“Dezz said it had tongue of madness in it. You grow a lot of those, so I figured it was fine.” She picked up her glass, downed the rest of her two fingers of whiskey and grinned. “It’s pretty smooth.”

Sekh tipped his head into his hand, while on Yenna’s other side Dalyria looked on- quite obviously not understanding anything being spoken. He’d have to give a proper introduction to Vryenelle for her, offer to translate. But it could wait- he was fairly sure he needed to sit down.

Astarion reached out, curled an arm around Sekh’s waist and pulled him onto his lap, happily nuzzling into the warm skin of his neck, still boasting little bruises and healing cuts from their tryst a few nights prior, in front of the spawn. “You’re going pale, pet.”

“You just let Yenna drink like that?”

“She was going to irregardless of what I said. At least she has good taste. I do believe you offered this same whiskey to a man we drained utterly dry, years ago.” Astarion dragged his lips against Sekh’s skin, and the drow knew he could smell the blood, beneath his healing cuts. “Quite a lovely set of memories.”

Sekh shifted slightly- he couldn’t argue that, but if Astarion thought he was going to completely distract him, he was quite wrong.

*

The night had been a success, he had to admit. Vrynelle seemed rather at ease with Dalyria- kept stealing little glances at her when she spoke common to the rest of the table, as if she wanted to memorize the way her lips and tongue could form the unknown words.

Sekh would set up a plan to teach the spawn undercommon. He couldn’t stay in the Underdark to teach them, but he could start, at least. Maybe find whoever might be the fastest learner and offer to teach them, so they could then share the knowledge.

There was another option, he knew- two very trusted friends who spoke common quite well and he was sure could teach the spawn. But he couldn’t ask Dezz to step away from her tavern- it was everything to her, the only more important thing was probably Brindell himself.

And Sekh felt guilty at the thought of asking to separate them.

Sekh shifted, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the tavern as Vrynelle lit a long, elegant pipe. The two had stepped out from the now quite rowdy tavern. The smoke that rose from it was earthy, a hint of mint- without much thought, Sekh rambled off a few various mushrooms as Vrynelle inhaled.

On her exhale, she laughed. “Clever as always. You know, there’s always a place for you here, if you’d like.” She took a long drag, and when Sekh didn’t answer, she gave a sad smile, the smoke seeming to escape through her teeth. “But I can tell by the look in your eyes that isn’t what you want. What then,” she paused, took a step closer, so close that Sekh could smell her perfume, “do you want?”

Sekh opened his mouth to speak, to claim it was exactly what he had done- he’d checked on the spawn, he’d made an introduction to further enrich their lives, he’d visited friends-

But there was something else, something he felt perhaps Vrynelle could help him with.

“When you transitioned, did you do it on your own, or with help?” Vrynelle paused her inhale, moving the pipe from her lips. “Because I was alone, and gods below I probably did some real harm to myself.”

“There was a family physician- she… assisted me,” Vrynelle admitted. “But why? Even if you’re concerned about what harm you may have caused, you’re quite obviously fine now. I’d argue more than fine.”

Sekh smirked- he couldn’t help himself, “I thought I wasn’t your type.”

Vrynelle laughed, holding her pipe out to Sekh, who took it, inhaling. The mint was a rush to his sinuses, but made his head feel achingly clear. “You know what I mean.”

Sekh exhaled, handing it back. He did, he was just stalling. Because this was a personal leap, a level of trust he hadn’t been sure he was ready to give her yet, but he didn’t know where else to turn- “I want to have a child.”

Vrynelle choked, coughed as she exhaled, leaning over. Sekh reached out, gently pat her back, before she straightened, looked at her pipe, and pinched out the smoldering end with her bare fingers. “I’m going to need something stronger than this.” She stowed the pipe, seeming to compose herself. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Sekh nodded. Yenna was growing faster than he had ever been ready for- and he had wanted to wait, yes- but a part of him was almost anxious, felt like perhaps the waiting had happened already, at this point. Besides, it would take time to figure everything out-

Gale was still hunting for information on Astarion’s own concerns regarding fertility, with Vette’s help- Sekh couldn’t just wait until they had answers before he moved to figure out his own.

“I can write back home,” Vrynelle said then, “I’m not on bad terms with the larger House- if anything, my overtaking Nendra put me in better standing.” That didn’t shock Sekh- even if Vrynelle was humane, unlike her sister- she would still earn respect for upstaging her older sister, and taking the city for herself.

Sekh smiled. It was all he could ask for.

Vrynelle inclined her head slightly, studying Sekh. “I guess you and Astarion would make beautiful little babies.”

Sekh laughed over that, reaching out and shoving her without much thought- as if she wasn’t aristocracy, but just another girl, just another friend- just another somebody who had struggles and pain that mirrored his own.

By the way her face cracked into a grin, it was all Vryenlle had ever wanted.

[zapreportsblog]

↱ an unexpected addition ↰

➘ summary : a new member decides to join the league of villains but she doesn’t look villain material, twice on the other hand says otherwise

➘ twice x reader, jin bubaigawara x reader

➘ a/n : are you guys enjoying this new design take I’m doing?

The League of Villains' hideout was shrouded in darkness, a stark contrast to the bright and bustling world outside. The group of misfits gathered around a table, each member immersed in their own thoughts and plans for chaos. But today, something unusual was about to disrupt their routine.

A knock echoed through the hideout, causing the villains to exchange glances. Toga was the first to approach the door, a sinister grin on her face. "Who could it be at this hour?"

The door creaked open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway—a young woman with vibrant (h/c) hair and an infectious smile. She seemed out of place amidst the gloom, radiating an inexplicable joy that was almost jarring in this setting.

"Hey there! Sorry for dropping by unannounced," the girl greeted cheerily, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Shigaraki raised an eyebrow, his hand hovering over his face as he regarded the newcomer with suspicion. "And who the hell are you?"

"(Y/N)," she introduced herself with a laugh, as if her very presence was a burst of sunlight in the dim room. "I heard you guys are making a name for yourselves, so I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about."

Toga's eyes gleamed with interest as she circled around (Y/N), her curiosity piqued by the girl's audacity. "Well, well, aren't you a little ball of energy?"

Before anyone else could react, Twice stepped forward, his face split into a wide grin that mirrored (Y/N)'s own expression. "Hey, hey, I vouch for her! She's got the right vibe, you know? The League could use some fresh air."

“Fuck off!”

Shigaraki crossed his arms, regarding the scene with a mixture of amusement and skepticism. "Twice, you're vouching for her just based on vibes?"

Twice nodded eagerly, his eyes bright. "Yeah, yeah! Trust me, Boss, she's got potential. We could use some positivity around here."

“No! Kick her lame ass out.”

(Y/N) chuckled, undeterred by the skeptical gazes around her. "Life's too short to be serious all the time, right?"

The League's members exchanged glances, caught between intrigue and uncertainty. It was true that their group had always leaned towards the darker side of life, but (Y/N)'s unwavering cheeriness was like a splash of paint on a blank canvas.

Shigaraki finally sighed, his fingers tapping impatiently against his arm. "Fine. Twice, if you believe in her, we'll give her a chance. But she's got to prove herself. This isn't a tea party."

Twice grinned even wider, his excitement palpable. "You won't regret it, Boss!"

“I’m already regretting agreeing.”

As the League of Villains welcomed (Y/N) into their ranks, the dynamics of the group shifted. Her presence, like a burst of color, had the potential to change the way they saw their mission. Whether she could truly find her place in this world of darkness remained to be seen, but one thing was certain—the League of Villains was in for a unique and unexpected journey with their newest, and perhaps most unconventional, member.

(Y/N)'s entry into the League of Villains marked a new chapter for the group. Her bright personality was like a constant source of energy, injecting an unusual spark into their sinister pursuits. As days turned into weeks, the members began to adjust to her presence, some more begrudgingly than others.

Toga found herself oddly drawn to (Y/N)'s infectious laughter and carefree nature. She observed her new companion's interactions with a mix of fascination and curiosity. "(Y/N), you're really something else," Toga mused one day, twirling a knife between her fingers.

(Y/N) flashed a grin in response, seemingly unfazed by the dangerous instrument Toga was wielding. "Well, life's too short to be boring, right?"

Meanwhile, Twice found himself spending more time with (Y/N), the two forming an unexpected camaraderie. He appreciated the break from the constant tension within the group. "(Y/N), you're like a breath of fresh air," he admitted, a genuine smile on his face.

“I wish you would just die!”

"I try my best," she replied, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Who knew villains could use a little sunshine?"

Even Shigaraki, who was known for his stern demeanor, couldn't help but be intrigued by (Y/N)'s unique approach to villainy. He watched her from the shadows, observing her interactions and contemplating the potential benefits and risks of her presence.

One evening, as the group gathered to discuss their next move, (Y/N) piped up with an idea that caught everyone off guard. "Why don't we organize a charity event? You know, something that shows we're not all bad."

The room fell silent, each member processing (Y/N)'s suggestion. It was a far cry from their usual activities, but there was something strangely appealing about the idea of presenting a different side of themselves.

Shigaraki leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he regarded (Y/N). "Explain."

(Y/N) leaned forward, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. "Think about it. We could use the event as a cover for something bigger. People would never suspect us, and we'd be able to gather information, or even set a trap for our enemies."

The room buzzed with a mix of curiosity and interest. The proposition was audacious, a gamble that had the potential to either backfire spectacularly or yield unexpected rewards.

Toga was the first to voice her approval, her grin bordering on maniacal. "I like the way you think!"

Twice nodded in agreement, his eyes wide with excitement. "It's like turning the tables on everyone, but with style!"

“This is a dumb idea!”

Shigaraki mulled over the idea for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he finally cracked a small smile, a rarity for him. "Fine. We'll give it a shot. But make no mistake, (Y/N), if this goes south, you're taking full responsibility."

(Y/N) beamed, her energy practically bouncing off the walls. "Deal!"

As preparations for the charity event began, the League of Villains found themselves venturing into uncharted territory. With (Y/N)'s unconventional ideas at the helm, they were about to show the world a side they never thought they'd see. Whether their plan would succeed or crumble under the weight of their own audacity remained to be seen, but one thing was certain—the League was in for a ride they would never forget, all thanks to the girl who had brought a touch of brightness to their shadows.

The League of Villains threw themselves into planning the charity event with a newfound fervor. Their hideout, once a hub of darkness, transformed into a makeshift event planning headquarters. (Y/N)'s energy was infectious, as she rallied the members with her innovative ideas and boundless enthusiasm.

Kurogiri, the somber portal-manipulating member of the League, observed the proceedings with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "(Y/N), are you sure about this? It seems quite... unconventional."

(Y/N) flashed a reassuring smile at Kurogiri. "Trust me, Kurogiri. Unconventional is exactly what we need. We'll catch everyone off guard and achieve our objectives without them even realizing it."

As the event drew near, (Y/N) worked tirelessly, ensuring every detail was in place. The League's hideout was adorned with banners, tables, and decorations, creating an atmosphere that was eerily inviting. The other members contributed in their own ways, albeit reluctantly at times, as they prepared for roles that felt oddly unfamiliar.

On the day of the event, the hideout's transformation was complete. The villains, dressed in costumes that attempted to mimic a sense of normalcy, mingled with the attendees, many of whom were unaware of the true nature of their hosts. (Y/N) flitted about, a master of ceremonies with an infectious smile that betrayed none of the darkness lurking beneath.

Toga, her usual thirst for blood disguised by a façade of normalcy, entertained guests with her unsettling charm. Twice, donning a tuxedo, created duplicates of himself to help serve refreshments, adding a quirky touch to the proceedings.

Shigaraki, his fingers still gloved, mingled with the crowd, his cold demeanor in stark contrast to the festive ambiance. Yet, even he couldn't deny the strange allure of (Y/N)'s plan.

As the evening progressed, (Y/N) sensed an air of tension mixed with curiosity among the attendees. They were drawn to the event, even if they didn't fully understand why. The League's usual chaos was temporarily subdued, replaced by a deceptive sense of unity that (Y/N) had managed to conjure.

But amidst the laughter and music, a more sinister undercurrent simmered beneath the surface. (Y/N)'s watchful eyes were attuned to the subtle shifts in the room, the hints of conversations that hinted at something more sinister.

As the night continued, (Y/N) seized an opportunity to gather valuable information from unsuspecting guests. Her casual conversations led to secrets revealed, alliances exposed, and rivalries unveiled.

When the event came to a close, the League of Villains retreated to their hideout, exhausted but exhilarated. (Y/N)'s plan had worked, and they had achieved their objectives without raising suspicion. It was a success that had left the members, even the skeptical ones, with a sense of accomplishment.

"(Y/N), I've got to hand it to you. That was a crazy idea, but it worked," Toga said, a satisfied grin on her face.

Twice nodded enthusiastically. "You brought some much-needed chaos in the most unexpected way!"

“I hated it!”

Shigaraki leaned against a wall, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "(Y/N), I must admit, you've got a knack for this."

(Y/N) beamed, her heart swelling with a mixture of pride and relief. "Well, villains can have a little fun too, right?"

The League of Villains had experienced a night unlike any other, and it was all thanks to (Y/N)'s unorthodox approach. As they settled in, their laughter and camaraderie resonated through the hideout, an echo of the unlikely success that had unfolded under the guise of a charity event.

[blade-liger-4ever]

Okay, so I’ve been thinking of Smokescreen from TFP a lot, and I’ve decided to share some thoughts/head-canons involving him

First of all, we tend to ignore the fact that Smokescreen is a scarily adept thief. Just think about it: he’s always snitching the Phase Shifter until they allow him to keep it, and he manages to sneak away from the others to the battlefield or elsewhere with no one the wiser. So realistically speaking, Smokescreen is no stranger to sleight of hand tricks and stealth, meaning he likely stole - at least a little - before he was inducted into the Elite Guard, probably in order to survive.

And another thing about Smokescreen that always stuck out to me was how, despite his excitement for joining Team Prime and his insistence on “it being destiny/[he’s] destined to be a great warrior”, every time something went wrong, he blamed himself. He never shirked it onto someone else, or accused them of being at fault (come to think of it, he never pointed the finger at a teammate for anything). Instead, Smokescreen kicked himself for the failure and held himself to an unnecessary degree of accountability. It’s almost like he’s expecting too much from himself, so that, to me, says that Smokescreen thinks poorly of himself most of the time. Additionally, this leads me to think that he’s desperate for approval and acceptance from people, especially Team Prime and Optimus in particular. And I personally believe that Smokescreen’s ego early on is what he holds onto in order to convince himself that he is actually a worthy ‘Bot in his own right and not worthless or a burden.

So that’s left me to a couple of conclusions and theories: One, Smokescreen initially grew up in a darker part of Cybertron (clearly unaffected by the war); two, he was likely used by other Cybertronians for infiltration/recon/courier missions, and three he was often told what his worth was by others, half being condescending and the other half being sarcastic, with the occasional genuine praise from others, specifically his guardians.

And now we come to the real head-canon aspect of this: Smokescreen’s mysterious past (note, this is all from my own musings).

So, I imagine Smokescreen was a kid who grew up in a little known place of Cybertron called the Mithril Sea. Like the Sea of Rust, it was primarily rust and heat, leaving only the strong to survive. An area largely ignored by most for their poor living conditions, the denizens of the Mithril Sea have to make frequent trade and excursions through the various run-down cities and markets to make a living. Taken in by the Axelerators merchant group, Smokescreen was the youngest and fastest of the group. Seeing the advantage of his youthful exuberance, the leader of the Axelerators often sent him to spy and steal from their rivals within the arid Mithril Sea. Despite the lack of empathy by most of the Axelerators, Smokescreen enjoyed the thrill of racing through the streets, jumping across the rooftops, and occasional chases by enemies. He would also get a kick out of pranking some of the better off and vain ‘Bots in the vicinity, or taunting his pursuers when they were unable to follow him into a particularly small passageway.

But this still left him restless. The Axelerators were always just using him for their next deal, for the next undermining of their opponents. It was a thankless and condescending life, but Smokescreen refused to believe that his life would always be so dull. Somehow, he always had an innate sense that he would leave the Mithril Sea and become a warrior - an idea that grew as he learned more about the ongoing Autobot-Decepticon War. He loved hearing the tales that would filter down into the market streets about the great battles, and the glorious cause of freedom for all that the new Prime, Optimus, spoke of. Hearing these stories drove Smokescreen to the knowledge that he was meant to be a soldier in the Autobot army, and he vowed to join their ranks after the passing of his guardian in the Axelerators.

Taking another mission on behalf of the Axelerators, Smokescreen instead stole a week’s worth of energon cubes and left the Mithril Sea. Arriving in Pellechrome, he bought more energon and supplies before searching for the nearest Autobot recruitment center. After pestering and waiting outside for a solid cycle, the sergeant accepted him into the Autobots and had him inducted into the Elite Guard for training. Overjoyed, Smokescreen joined the last unit of young Autobots to be trained under Rocket Plume, herself a deadly stealth agent. Smokescreen soon found that his background made him stand out to the more insecure ‘Bots, who would use him as a scapegoat and target for their actions. This naturally resulted in fights, but to the surprise of many, Smokescreen always came out on top, something that caught the eye of Rocket Plume. Taking him under her wing, Smokescreen’s skills at evasion, stealth, and battle truly flourished, although he was still considered an outcast by his fellow cadets. For that, as well as Rocket Plume’s teaching of changing one’s voice for covert operations, Smokescreen learned to suppress his natural Mithrilic accent to the point that no one who met him for the first time suspected his heritage.

When the war began to escalate, Smokescreen and his fellow cadets were given a hasty and unceremonious graduation, something that would forever disappoint him. With Rocket Plume pulled back onto the front lines, Smokescreen and the other graduates were sent to Iacon to bolster its defenses. Although pleading for a role on the Iacon front, Smokescreen was disheartened to learn that he would be given the position of security detail to Alpha Trion. Initially resenting this task, Smokescreen gradually built a rapport with Alpha Trion, whose grandfatherly nature and care earned the respect and loyalty of the young ‘Bot - especially when he was encouraged to speak with his natural accent. Seeing potential in the young Mithrilic and learning more of future events through the Covenant of Primus, Alpha Trion, under the pretense of old age, regaled Smokescreen with tales of Cybertron before the war, as well as those of Optimus and his past as Orion Pax.

To his great relief - and a certain amount of pride - Smokescreen was an eager learner, absorbing every fact related to Optimus and the battle techniques that Alpha Trion passed on to him. Eventually, the time came for Iacon’s fall, and Smokescreen eagerly waited near the doors to fully embrace and live up to the Autobot cause. Then, of course, Alpha Trion knocked him out and entrusted him with one of the Omega Keys, knowing that he would escape to Earth and help bring the Keys to Optimus.

Personally, I would have given Smokescreen a new human partner, and I’d reuse Tripp Summers from the 2018 Bumblebee film. Their bond would mostly focus on helping Smokescreen relax and realize his worth isn’t in his actions or what he can or can’t do for the team, but in his desire to do good and promote an end to the war. On Tripp’s side of things, Smokescreen would probably help him learn autonomy (I swear, that pun wasn’t intended) and to stop appeasing his haughty peers, whom he tries to please on behalf of his family.

And there we have it - my expanded history for Smokescreen. My boy deserved more attention and care in TFP, although what we got was good, too. To just further elaborate, the names of unknown locations and ‘Bots - Alpha Trion and Iacon notwithstanding, of course - I searched the Teletraan 1 Wiki for these places and expanded on them. So, if you’re curious, you can check them out there.

Additionally, I picture the Mithril Sea as stylized after ancient Persia, with the accent being Persian. The biggest reason for this is because first of all, I’m deeply interested in ancient Persia, the second being that Nolan North had previously voiced the Prince of Persia in the 2008 game. He’d wanted to do that accent for the character, but for some incomprehensible reason, the studio wanted his “Nate Drake” voice for the character.

Yeah, I don’t get that either. But at least this way, not only does Smokescreen have a larger and more colorful history, Mr. North would have the chance to use that accent whenever Smokescreen is agitated, excited, or frustrated by something. Who knows, maybe he’ll come across this and do that accent after all. I know I would certainly love to hear him use it!

See you around, folks!