hawk perch

safer. (part 1)

Originally posted by wonhontology

» bodyguard!wonho x princess!reader
» ROYALS!AU; slight angst
» 3.908 words
» summary: after an attack to your father’s life, he decides to assign you a personal bodyguard. and while you don’t like it one bit, you can’t deny the fact that the man chosen to protect you is rather handsome .

a/n: i put it under a read more because it got quite long, lmao. i’m actually quite nervous about this so i hope you all will enojy it!

prologue | part 1 | part 2

“I swear to God, [Y/N], I don’t know why you are complaining so much” Jennie whispered while leaning over her elbow. You rolled your eyes and ignored her, mechanically typing out the professors words without actually listening to them. It had been a month and half since the attack and Wonho had been spending every single day attached at your hip, following every single move you made like a hawk perched over your shoulder.

“He’s so hot” added Lisa on your other side, she glanced for a second over her shoulder where, in the back of the class, Wonho was standing, clad in his black suit. A dreamy sigh escaped her lips and you rolled your eyes “I swear, I’m going to ditch both of you if you don’t stop-”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, he’s like a god on earth” you buried your face in your hands and finally gave up taking notes, it was impossible to concentrate when Jennie and Lisa kept up with their excited whispers about how hot Wonho was and how much of a lucky bitch you were.

You, on the other hand, could only sigh. It was already difficult dealing with the fact that it was impossible to stay mad at Wonho, or even trying to treat him bad, without them reminding you just how dazzlingly handsome he was, a thing that made your stomach churn and your cheeks blush uncontrollably every time he smiled at you.

Wonho was nice, almost too nice, and so charming, with his gentle smile and boisterous laugh. But you really could not stand the fact that he had to follow you around, reminding everyone and you of your position, your title and all the obligations that came with it.

It was not a secret to those who knew you personally, that being the princess and the only heir to the throne was for you just as constricting as an actual cage. It had never really touched you during your childhood, some years you even had dreamed about being the next queen and ruling in a bright dress and high heels like your mother. But everything had started to change during high school, when your own aspirations had started to emerge and build, making you see a different future for you outside of the palace’s shiny walls. Attending dinners and meetings, dressing properly, behaving, even your own room had slowly started to make your skin hitch. You could not stand the halls full of paintings, the corridors and the armors, the thick curtains and the Arabic carpets.

Your parents had never really forbid you anything and it had probably been partly their fault if, now that you were older, you did not want to attend political events and avoided the subject of getting married to a nice duke. But you could read it on their expressions that they were not happy and were expecting you to get on the right track, sooner or later.

And despite looking like an actual angel, Wonho was just a constant reminder of that part of your life, a sign that linked you indissolubly to the throne and the crown, something that you wanted to ignore as long as you could.

Shuffling of papers and chatting filled the class and you snapped out of your thoughts. Your eyes wandered among the faces of students, stealing glances at you, whispering behind hands and looking at you with widened eyes. There had always been people looking, people trying to be friends with you or just hoping to get a little conversation going with the princess, but those things had became much more rare when people had started to get accustomed to your presence. However, after the attack, the whispering and ogling came back, more marked, if anything. It was almost like that simple even had struck their mind, reminding them that, in fact, you were part of an elite, of the people that ruled their nation.

And you hated it.

You shut your laptop closed and stalked out of the room, Jennie and Lisa right behind you. A few steps back was marching Wonho and the other two guards that were part of your outside escort, Shownu and Jooheon. People parted in the hallways when you passed, a glint of fear in their eyes, of you or your guards, you didn’t know. And while Jennie and Lisa really were not paying attention to that shift in behavior, you could not bear it for long.

You put a hand on Lisa’s shoulder to get her attention “I don’t feel well, I’m going home”

Jennie must’ve sensed your worries, she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze “Things are going to get back to normality in a few months, don’t worry”

“I really hope so” you smiled and waved goodbye. Wonho, that usually stood two steps behind you, was now standing at your side while Jooheon stood behind.

“Are you not feeling well, your highness?” asked the blond man, glancing at you with concern.

You shook your head and looked away, always surprised by Wonho’s sincere worry for you “It’s nothing”

The guard nodded, he did not say anything else but you knew that he had something on his mind by the way he lingered at your side for a few seconds before getting back behind you. You did not ask, he was going to tell you if it was important.

Shownu was already at the front entry with the car ready. Jooheon sat in the front, while you and Wonho got in the back seat. The ride was quite for the most part, you leaned over the obscured window with your head and closed your eyes.

“If I may speak, your highness” Wonho suddenly spoke up, making you jerk your head to his side. The man was looking in front of him, where a black divider separated you from Shownu and Jooheon, his legs comfortably crossed one over the other. You noticed how he was waiting for you to give your consent for him to keep going, so you lightly nodded with your head “I think miss Jennie is quite right. People are shaken about what happened to His Majesty, the King, after all this has always been a pacific kingdom” he turned to give you a gentle smile and you shyly nodded, he was so charming even with a simple gesture as turning his head. You prayed you were not blushing too hard.

“It is going to fade exponentially and die as soon as the culprit is punished” his hands fell on your knee by instinct, his own caring nature taking over him before he could stop himself at what was considered acceptable from his position as a simple guard. He wanted to comfort you and hold you close, it was a futile attempt at easing the pressure he knew you were experiencing, it was what his body told him to do. His thumb drew a circle on your exposed skin and you did not know what to say. You felt your heart thumb loudly in your ears, you wanted to grip his hand and squeeze it. Feeling his warm skin gave you a strange sense of relief but before you could do anything, thank him for his kind words or even just smile, he retreated with a sudden move.

His eyes avoided yours when you tried to look at him and his hands were now tightly latched in front of him “I apologies, your highness, I should’ve asked-” his words came out like a staggering mess, he was obviously uncomfortable because of his own actions, seeing as he was allowed to touch you only when it was needed for your protection. He was probably afraid of what you could do to him for acting so daringly.

You frantically waved your hands in front of your face, trying to mask just how much you were blushing “You don’t have to apologies and please, stop calling me your highness when we are alone. It makes me feel old …”

“I understand” Wonho bowed his head and you just wanted to tell him to cut off the bowing and politeness too but you had reached the place and someone was already opening your car door.

You quickly mouthed a thank you to Wonho and quickly slid out of the car, swinging your bag over your shoulder. You greeted the front guard that bowed to you and then raised your gaze over the high ceiling painted with smiling cherubs and adorned by a sparkling chandelier. You always felt a strong sense of oppression when looking up at the Baroque decorations. All the gold decorations, yellow flowers, little angels with bows, everything felt so heavy, so opulent that it made your stomach drop.

With a frown, you locked your eyes on the screen of your phone and sprinted to the kitchen, stuffing your mouth with food always helped making you forget that you were, more or less, locked into your own house.

Keep reading


Hnossa, the child of Freya and the lost Odur, was the youngest of all the Dwellers in Asgard. And because it had been prophesied that the child would bring her father and her mother together, little Hnossa was often taken without the City of the Gods to stand by Bifröst, the Rainbow Bridge, so that she might greet Odur if his steps turned toward Asgard. 

In all the palaces of the City of the Gods little Hnossa was made welcome: in Fensalir, the Halls of Mists, where Frigga, the wife of Odin All-Father, sat spinning with golden threads; in Breidablik, where Baldur, the Well Beloved, lived with his fair wife, the young Nanna; in Bilskirnir, the Winding House, where Thor and Sif lived; and in Odin’s own palace Valaskjalf, that was all roofed over with silver shields.

The greatest of all the palaces was Gladsheim, that was built by the golden-leaved wood, Glasir. Here the banquets of the Gods were held. Often little Hnossa looked within and saw Odin All-Father seated at the banquet table, with a mantle of blue over him and a shining helmet shaped like an eagle upon his head. Odin would sit there, not eating at all, but drinking the wine of the Gods, and taking the food off the table and giving it to Geri and Freki, the two wolves that crouched beside his seat.

She loved to go outside the great gate and stay beside Heimdall, the Warder of the Rainbow Bridge. There, when there was no one crossing that she might watch, she would sit beside Heimdall and listen to the wonders that he spoke of.

Heimdall held in his hands the horn that was called the Gialarhorn. He would sound it to let the Dwellers in Asgard know that one was crossing the Rainbow Bridge. And Heimdall told little Hnossa how he had trained himself to hear the grasses grow, and how he could see all around him for a hundred miles. He could see in the night as well as the day. He never slept. He had nine mothers, he told Hnossa, and he fed on the strength of the earth and the cold sea.

As she sat beside him day after day, Heimdall would tell little Hnossa how all things began. He had lived from the beginning of time and he knew all things. “Before Asgard was built,” he said, “and before Odin lived, earth and sea and sky were all mixed together: what was then was the Chasm of Chasms. In the North there was Niflheim, the Place of Deadly Cold. In the South there Was Muspelheim, the Land of Fire. In Niflheim there was a cauldron called Hveigilmer that poured out twelve rivers that flowed into the Chasm of Chasms.  

"Ginnungagap, the Chasm of Chasms, filled up with ice, for the waters of the rivers froze as they poured into it. From Muspelheim came clouds of fire that turned the ice into thick mists. The mists fell down again in drops of dew, and from these drops were formed Ymir, the Ancient Giant. 

"Ymir, the Ancient Giant, travelled along by the twelve rivers until he came to where another living form was standing in the mists. This was a Giant Cow. Audhumla was the name of that cow. Ymir lay down beside her and drank her milk, and on the milk she gave him he lived. Other beings were formed out of the dew that fell to the ground. They were the Daughters of the Frost, and Ymir, the Ancient Giant, married one, and their children were the Giants.

"One day Ymir saw Audhumla breathe upon a cliff of ice and lick with her tongue the place she breathed on. As her tongue went over and over the place he saw that a figure was being formed. It was not like a Giant’s form; it was more shapely and more beautiful. A head appeared in the cliff and golden hair fell over the ice. As Ymir looked upon the being that was being formed he hated him for his beauty.

"Audhumla, the Giant Cow, went on licking the place where she had breathed. At last a man completely formed stepped from the cliff. Ymir, the Ancient Giant, hated him so much that he would have slain him then and there. But he knew that if he did this, Audhumla would feed him no more with her milk.

"Bur was the name of the man who was formed in the ice cliff, Bur, the first of the heroes. He, too, lived on the milk of Audhumla. He married a daughter of the Ancient Giant and he had a son. But Ymir and Ymir’s sons hated Bur, and the time came at last when they were able to kill him.

"And now there was war between Ymir and Ymir’s sons and the son and son’s sons of Bur. Odin was the son of Bur’s son. Odin brought all his brothers together, and they were able to destroy Ymir and all his brood–all except one. So huge was Ymir that when he was slain his blood poured out in such a mighty flood that his sons were all drowned in it, all except Bergelmir, who was in a boat with his wife when the flood came, and who floated away on the flood to the place that we now call Jötunheim, the Realm of the Giants.

"Now Odin and his sons took the body of Ymir–the vastest body that ever was–and they flung it into the Chasm of Chasms, filling up all the hollow places with it. They dug the bones out of the body and they piled them up as the mountains. They took the teeth out and they made them into the rocks. They took the hair of Ymir and they made it into the forests of trees. They took his  eyebrows and formed them Into the place where Men now dwell, Midgard. And out of Ymir’s hollow skull they made the sky.

‘’And Odin and his sons and brothers did more than this. They took the sparks and the clouds of flame that blew from Muspelheim, and they made them into the sun and the moon and all the stars that are in the sky. Odin found a dusky Giantess named Night whose son was called Day, and he gave both of them horses to drive across the sky. Night drove a horse that is named Hrimfaxe, Frosty Mane, and Day drove a horse that is named Skinfaxe, Shining Mane. From Hrimfaxe’s bit fall the drops that make the dew upon the earth.

‘’Then Odin and his sons made a race of men and women and gave them Midgard to live in. Ugly Dwarfs had grown up and had spread themselves over the earth. Odin made them to go live in the hollow places beneath the earth. The Elves he let stay on the earth, but he gave them the tasks of tending the streams and the grasses and the flowers. And with the Vanir he made peace after a war had been waged, taking Niörd from them for a hostage.

‘’Bergelmir, the Giant who escaped drowning in Ymir’s blood, had sons and daughters in Jötunheim. They hated Odin and his sons and strove against them. When Odin lit up the world with the sun and the moon they were very wroth, and they found two of the fiercest of the mighty wolves of Jötunheim and set them to follow them. And still the sun and the moon, Sol and Mani, are followed by the wolves of Jötunheim.

Such wonders did Heimdall with the Golden Teeth tell Hnossa, the youngest of the Dwellers in Asgard. Often the child stayed with him by the Rainbow Bridge, and saw the Gods pass to and from Midgard: Thor, with his crown of stars, with the great hammer Miölnir in his hands, with the gloves of iron that he used when he grasped Miölnir; Thor in his chariot drawn by two goats and wearing the belt that doubled his strength; Frigga, with her dress of falcon feathers, flying swiftly as a bird; Odin, the All-Father himself, riding upon Sleipner, his eight-legged steed, clad all in golden armour, with his golden helmet, shaped like an eagle, upon his head, and with his spear Gungnir in his hand.

Heimdall kept his horn in the branch of a great tree. This tree was called Ygdrassil, he told little Hnossa, and it was a wonder to Gods and Men. "No one knows of a tune when Ygdrassil was not growing, and all are afraid to speak of the time when it will be destroyed.

Ygdrassil has three roots. One goes deep under Midgard, another goes deep under Jötunheim, and the third grows above Asgard. Over Odin’s hall a branch of Ygdrassil grows, and it is called the Peace Bough.

You see Ygdrassil, little Hnossa, but you do not know all the wonders of it. Far up in its branches four stags graze; they shake from their horns the water that falls as rain upon the earth. On the topmost branch of Ygdrassil, the branch that is so high that the Gods themselves can hardly see it, there is an eagle that knows all things. Upon the beak of this eagle a hawk is perched, a hawk that sees what the eyes of the eagle may not see.

"The root of Ygdrassil that is in Midgard goes deep down to the place of the dead. Here there is an evil dragon named Nidhögg that gnaws constantly at the root, striving to destroy Ygdrassil, the Tree of trees. And Ratatösk, the Squirrel of Mischief–behold him now!–runs up and down Ygdrassil, making trouble between the eagle above and the dragon below. He goes to tell the dragon how the eagle is bent upon tearing him to pieces and he goes back to tell the eagle how the dragon plans to devour him. The stories that he brings to Nidhögg make that evil dragon more fierce to destroy Ygdrassil, the Tree of trees, so that he may come upon the eagle and devour him.

There are two wells by the roots of Ygdrassil, and one is above and one is below. One is beside the root that grows in Jötunheim. This is a Well of Knowledge, and it is guarded by old Mimir the Wise. Whoever drinks out of this well knows of all the things that will come to be. The other well is by the root that grows above Asgard. No one may drink out of this well. The three sisters that are the holy Norns guard it, and they take the white water from it to water Ygdrassil, that the Tree of Life may keep green and strong. This well, little Hnossa, is called Urda’s Well.”

And little Hnossa heard that by Urda’s Well there were two beautiful white swans. They made music that the Dwellers in Asgard often heard. But Hnossa was too young to hear the music that was made by the swans of Urda’s Well.

*** To read the previous posts on sacred texts then go to http://ancestorsofthenorse.tumblr.com/GoodReads 

Finally something Throne of Glass! Requested by @rowaelinfirenice!

My masterlist is here if you’d like to check out some more!


“Pardon, Evangeline? What did you just say?”

Aedion looked at his pseudo-daughter in shock. She can’t have possibly said what he thought he heard. There was no way his beautiful sixteen year old just asked if she could bring a boy home to meet him.

“Please? I really want to introduce him to you, he’s really nice! I think you’ll really like him.”

Her citrine eyes pierced into Aedion.  She had chosen a good time to ask him, and he was sure that she knew that.

Currently he was sitting at his desk in his home in Orynth, slaving away over re-assignment orders for the refugee camps and enrolments for the Bane. It was a heavy task, one that made him weary and susceptible to the whims of females.

“Does Lysandra know about this?” He asked her.

“Of course! You know how snoopy she can be.” Evangeline rolled her eyes at him, a gesture he found both irritatingly familiar and endearing.

She crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her chin out, awaiting an answer. She tapped her foot impatiently, a quality she had inherited straight from her guardian.

“Did you have a day in mind?” He conceded.

She squealed in delight and skipped around the desk so that she could hug him. She clung to his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll bring him for dinner tonight! Oh, you’ll love him. I’m so excited!” she exclaimed.

And she was. He could tell from the slight shaking in her hands and the heat coming off her face. Her smile was so bright it could light up a room.

If this boy hurt her he would kill him. Rowan would help.

Gods forbid what Lysandra or Aelin would do.


As soon as the boy walked into the dining room Aedion knew that he was going to be a problem.

The family sat around an oval shaped dining table in the extravagant – what else could you expect from Aelin’s castle? – Dining room. Aedion sat with Lysandra to his left and Aelin opposite from him. Rowan was next to her and next to him was Ren.

Ren had become as protective of Evangeline as Lys and Aedion had after the time he spent looking after her with his grandfather before the war. Now that his grandfather had passed away all the love and affection Ren had for him passed onto Evangeline. Aedion was grateful for it. It wasn’t until Evangeline met Ren that she truly embraced the scars slashing her face, even if they were there for the greater good.

This boy was a problem, and every male in the room knew it.

He was tall and walked as though he was a king. Arrogance shone on his face and his black hair was slicked back in a fashion that suggested he was too good to rough it with the rest of them. He gave them all a smirk as he swaggered into the room.

Lys stood to greet him and pulled Aedion with her. They were all dressed in finery, with the exception of Aedion. He hadn’t time before the dinner to change and nearly snarled when the boy gave his attire a disapproving look.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Lys said amicably, “please, take a seat.”

The seats that were available were the ones next to Rowan and the one at the head of the table. The smile Rowan gave the boy was purely animalistic.

“Sit here - we can talk,” he said softly.

Aedion knew from experience this voice was often followed by bloodshed.

The boy nodded eagerly, misunderstanding Rowan’s tone to mean he was welcome.

He sat next to Rowan and Evangeline sat at the head. She smiled excitedly towards Ren and offered a thumbs up to Aedion and Lys.

Okay, so it didn’t begin that well but this boy had time to improve. Aedion would make a conscious effort to be more patient with him.

“At any point today are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to have to keep guessing?” Aelin asked. The look she gave him was innocent, but there was nothing innocent about what Aelin was doing. In fact, it looked like she was three seconds away from growling at him.

“Also,” Aelin continued, “when one enters a room with their queen its courteous to bow, or show even a little bit of respect. So get that shit eating grin off your face.”

Evangeline let out a squeak of pure mortification. The boy’s ears turned red at the tip and his cheeks tinted pink. 

“I’m sorry, your majesty.” He apologized. Suddenly he realised his proximity to Rowan was no accident and tried – and failed – to subtly move his chair more towards Evangeline.

“So are you going to tell us your name?” Aedion interjected.

Aelin shot him a feline smirk which he matched. Under the table Lysandra put her hand on his tight and dug her nails in.

Be good, the action said.

In reply Aedion quickly kissed her cheek.

“Oh, my name is Georgius. I was named after the late Queen of Adarlan.” The boy – Georgius – said.

Aelin hummed in reply.

Aedion saw Evangeline’s gaze dance around the room – she was assessing everyone’s reactions to the boy she had brought home.

“He grew up in Adarlan and moved here after the war with his father,” Evangeline was trying to prompt the conversation. They still had time to fill before the food was served, Lys wanted to make sure that they had enough time to get to know the boy.

“Really?” This piqued the interest of Aedion. “We were in Adarlan for quite some time. Are you from Rifthold?”

Georgius cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes. My father is a wealthy merchant so we lived in close proximity to the glass castle. When it was destroyed and so was the Wall he decided to get my family and leave. Of course, he was conscripted into the war and afterwards he didn’t want to return.”


Aedion thought it was rather curious that the family had decided to leave Rifthold immediately after it became one of the safest places in Erilea. King Dorian along with his second, Chaol, had been massively successful in their recovery efforts. Moving had nothing to do with the boy in front of him, if he was the same age as Evangeline then he wouldn’t have had a say in the matter.

“How old were you when you came to live in Orynth?” Ren was trying to make an effort, it was clear, but it was also obvious that this boy wasn’t his favourite.

“Eighteen.” He answered.

Lysandra looked confused at his answer.

“If you came here after the war… How old are you?” Suspicion was written across her face and it was solely aimed towards the boy – man? – next to the most important thing in her life.

“I’m twenty-three.”

Rowan, who had just taken a drink of wine, gagged and tried not to spray it everywhere.


Lys was pacing back and forth in their room, so furiously that it looked as though she was going to wear the rug.

The dinner had not gone well. Aedion had met many a men in his time and Georgius was one of the most arrogant and self-centred. The way he spoke to people dripped with contempt and disrespect. Unless it was Aelin. Aedion was surprised his eyes didn’t bug out of his head he stared at her so much. Aedion was surprised Rowan didn’t gauge out his eyes he stared so much.

“Oh Gods, I hate him. He’s despicable. He’s a twenty-three year old man-child trying to take advantage of a girl. What can we do? What can we possibly do that won’t make Evangeline hate us or think we’re being too intrusive?”

Aedion didn’t reply. He was too distracted by the sight of her long legs and short night gown.

She paused and looked at him. At the look on his face she humphed and put her hands on her hips.

“Don’t give me that look, this is serious!”

Aedion lightly laughed at her and burrowed deeper into the blankets.

“We can’t exactly judge the age difference, not when there’s three hundred years between Aelin and Rowan.” At least there was that.

Lys still looked tortured. Aedion sighed and got out of bed. He went to his wife and gently placed his hands on either side of her face.  He leant forward and kissed her lips softly.

At the touch, Lysandra seemed to relax – even if it was only a bit.

“I don’t want him to hurt her.” She wrapped her arms around her husband.

“She’ll move on. Everyone has a first love, and a last love.” At his words Aedion kissed her again, this time harder and for longer.

“It would kill me if he broke her heart. She’s been through so much. I don’t understand why she’s even attracted to a boy like that – not when for the last five years she’s had such wonderful men to set an example for how a woman should be treated. If… if Aelin hadn’t paid our debt and we were still in Rifthold then I might understand if Evangeline didn’t know how men should and shouldn’t be acting. But she does!” Lys groaned in frustration.

She hit her head against Aedion’s bare chest in annoyance.

“Stop that,” He snorted.

She pouted at him and he grinned back.

He had a plan to take care of this Georgius fool, but for now all he planned to do was pleasure his wife.


“Do I even want to know what you’re doing? Lurking in the bushes watching a young woman on a date is awfully creepy, don’t you think?”

Rowan and Aedion jumped at the sound of Aelin behind them.

It was true, they were hiding behind the main pillar in the court yard watching Evangeline and the Idiot. Rowan was in his hawk form, perched on the shoulder of Aedion, but both males still looked guilty at being caught.

“Oh you two, honestly.” Aelin huffed.

“We have to do something-”

“I wasn’t judging you for doing this. I was judging you because you didn’t ask for my help.” Aelin interrupted. “He’s a buffoon. The type of guy who thinks women are nothing but property. I want him gone.”

Aedion nodded and Rowan quietly squawked.

Aelin explained her plan to them. It was a strange plan, but Aelin’s plans had rarely failed in the past.

Rowan, who by now had transformed back into his usual fae self, added in his opinion when he felt necessary. Amazingly, a miracle really, Aelin listened to him and slightly altered her plans to suit him.

“Now all you two have to do is stand around looking pretty and be the territorial bastards I know you are.”

With that, she sauntered off in the direction they had seen Evangeline and Georgius walk.

“Think this’ll work?” Aedion asked Rowan.

“I bloody well hope so. That boy has one hell of a nerve thinking he can act like that when he’s dating the heir to Carravere. Actually, I believe that’s the only reason he’s interested in her.”

“Also because she’s a fantastic young woman.”

“Yes. Also because she is fantastic. Did you hear Aelin laugh? I believe that is our cue.”

Without his fae hearing it would have been impossible for Aedion to hear his cousin’s laugh, but blessed with the senses of the immortal he could hear it clearly.

He and Rowan, very casually, subtle as a bird in the wind, quite as a leaf falling in autumn, burst into a scene of Aelin laughing with the two young lovers.

Aelin had also, super casually, wrapped her arm tightly around Evangeline.

Evangeline was laughing at some joke Aelin had said and welcomed the embrace of the older female.

“Would you mind coming with me, Evangeline? I don’t want to steal you away but I don’t think you want to talk about his in public.” Aelin whispered the last sentence into Evangeline’s ear.

Evangeline must’ve had a feeling Aelin would steal her away for a womanly talk as her face went bright red. The queen had already told Aedion and Rowan that she planned to distract her with conversations about various protective tonics, and the two males agreed it would be not only a suitable conversation but also a good enough reason to steal the young heir away.

“Oh, um, I wouldn’t want to leave Georg-”

“Don’t you fret,” Aedion walked closer and kissed her red forehead. “Rowan and I can entertain him for a while.”

“Okay,” She gave him one of her bright smiles and walked away hand in hand with Aelin.

They waited patiently for Aelin to tell Rowan through the bond that she and Evangeline were safely inside and well out of hearing distance before slamming the Dick onto his back.

Rowan and Aedion loomed at the Shit, who was now sprawled on the dirt path. He tried to get up but one foot to his chest, curtesy of Rowan, stopped any attempts.

“I-I,” he sputtered.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing with Evangeline?” Aedion demanded.

“Nothing, I swear! I haven’t touched her!” The Imbecile was very obviously panicked, and it made a shot of delight whiz itself up Aedion’s spine.   

“So you’re telling me that your intentions with her are pure and you don’t have any other motives by courting her? Hmm?” Rowan questioned.

Aedion revelled in the fact that Rowan had never used that voice on him. If he had when they were younger… Well, it would’ve been rather unmanly of him to shit himself.  

“Yes, yes! Please just let me go!” The scared Georgius begged.

“And if I don’t?” Rowan leaned down so that their faces were at eye level. “What will you do?”

Aedion could see the ragged breaths Georgius was taking to try and calm himself.

“If you don’t let me go Evangeline will hear about this!” The Fool said it like an order. Like he had any authority whatsoever.

“Maybe you should let him stand, Rowan.”

At his words Rowan lifted his foot from Georgius’s chest. Georgius scrambled upright and faced off against the two fae.

“I see you’ve come to your senses,” he had the audacity to tell them.

Rowan scoffed but Aedion levelled him with a gaze.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll ask you one question about Evangeline and if you answer correctly then we’ll let you near her. If not, then if we see you again we’ll feed you to Fenrys and Connall.”

“Okay,” Georgius agreed.

That cocky grin returned to his face, the same one he had on when at dinner he discussed how, honestly, the late King of Adarlan wasn’t that bad. Dorian was much more radical.

“What is her surname?”

He opened his mouth then shut it.

Then opened it.

Then shut it.

He was gaping like a fish out of sea. It was clear he had no idea.

Aedion and Rowan didn’t need any further confirmation that Georgius was not with their precious one for the right reasons and although Evangeline was fully capable of making sound decisions the men already in her life only wanted the best for her.

Aedion approached Georgius so quickly that he had no time to retreat before the General grabbed him by the lapels and snarled in his face.

“If I ever see you with her again you’ll be without your favourite part. Understood?”

The Fucker grimaced in confirmation.


The next day Aedion walked in on Lysandra in their room with a crying Evangeline in her arms. Both woman were in their pyjamas and chocolate wrappings were surrounding them.

“I just don’t know why he won’t talk to me! I can’t believe I didn’t see what an ass he was before!” She sobbed.

He approached the two woman sitting on the bed, Lysandra mouthing a silent thank you as he did.

“There’s many more men out there, my little lady. This is the first of many, I’m sure of it.” He assured her.

She looked at him, eyes rimmed in red with a sticky face from her tears.

“Are you really sure?” She asked in the tiniest of voices.

Aedion sat next to her and stole her away from his wife.

“You are the most beautiful girl in Erilea. Any man would be lucky to have you, but only the best deserve you.”

I live in the country and there’s not much to do here, so when I’m bored I like to go for evening drives. Here’s what I saw on my drive today: 

  • a pasture full of goats watched over by a gentle (yet ferocious) guard llama
  • a house with three big friendly sheepdogs in the yard! (boof)
  • twenty-two red-tailed hawks perched sequentially on twenty-two fenceposts (what does it mean???)
  • big, dark rainclouds rumbling and rolling above the fresh new snow on the mountains
  • a field, nearly empty, except for one blooming cactus all by itself
  • another field with a broken abandoned trampoline in the middle
  • one of those perfect farmhouses that you look at and say to yourself, “if I never live there, my life will be a waste” (with chickens in the yard, and baby ducks)
  • a wild cottontail rabbit darting across Conejo Lane (get it? conejo is Spanish for rabbit)  
  • the sweet sanguine sunset splashing springtime songs across the sky (singing the stars to sleep
  • houses with their curtains open and the lights turned on (so that if I drove by v e r y s l o w l y I could take a peek inside)

I’ve been wanting to get photos of the hawks that perch on the power lines on my way to work but until recently haven’t had a decent lens to do so. This time on my way home from work I was able to park close enough to one but not spook it. Unfortunately I learned that 1/250s is just too slow. Next time. Next time.

Do Me a Favor (Part 3)

Summary:  AU! Bucky Barnes and you are neighbors and close friends. As a huge favor, Bucky asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a relative’s wedding and you agree.

Word Count: 2,717

Warnings: Drinking.

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Enjoy!

Originally posted by marvelloussuperbucky

Steve looked up at Bucky and you with a guilt-ridden expression. “We were running up the stairs and playing around—And Peggy tripped.”

“I think I sprained my ankle,” said Peggy, face wrinkling in pain.

“I’m so sorry, Peg,” Steve murmured.

She looked up at him with a sweet smile on her face. “It’s okay, dear. You didn’t mean to.”

Steve eased up a little at her words and declared he was going to cradle her in his arms in order to take her into their room. Bucky and you followed as Steve laid Peggy on the bed.

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When Cas loses his wings, he goes for a walk every single day. Weather changes; he wears flip-flops and sneakers and boots and flip-flops again, and while the walking doesn’t bring them back, it helps. He does yoga. He spars.

It helps.

Until one day, while he’s walking and autumn leaves crunch under his feet, a hawk comes to perch on his shoulder. She comes to see him the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Every time Cas leaves the Bunker, she joins him earlier in his walk, until the minute Castiel sets foot outside, the hawk flutters around him and lands on his shoulder or his arm. He makes a leather glove and shoulder strap for her, and names her Vpaahi.

Wings, in Enochian.

Do Me a Favor (Part 9)

Summary:  AU! Bucky Barnes and you are neighbors and close friends. As a huge favor, Bucky asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a relative’s wedding and you agree.

Word Count: 2,227

Warnings: None.

“Do Me a Favor” Masterlist

A/N: Here’s part 9, guys! Yes, this is Let’s Pretend all over again, I am only making minor changes.

Originally posted by imaginesforlifetime

You gasped, covering your mouth with a hand as the hurt hit your chest. You hadn’t thought about Bucky ever walking away from you. Bucky had been a permanent fixture in your life for so long and now… Tears streamed down your cheeks, pain invading every fiber of your being. It had only taken three days for everything to fall apart, for your most intimate relationship to come apart at the seams.

You bent at the waist, letting the bitter tears out and muffling your sobs with your hand. You didn’t want anyone barging in, attempt to offer you comfort for this. It had been your decision after all. You knew how Bucky was, how much he feared new things. And you had still fallen for that smile, those expressive eyes. Had let the bliss of a dance and the close proximity of handsome Bucky reel you in, and you were gone. Hook, line, and sinker.

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“Lysandra had entered and passed out in her bed with no explanation for why or what she had been doing beforehand. And since she was utterly unconscious, Aelin had just climbed into bed beside her. She had no idea where Rowan had curled up for the night, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to look outside her window and spy a white-tailed hawk perched on the balcony rail.“

World of Dreamers Chapter I

Part II

Here it is, ladies and gentlemen! The first installment of my Empire of Storms fanfiction. This fanfiction will basically be what I think will happen in the next book, and the title may be cheesy, but it’s the best thing I can come up with. Please feel free to message or send an ask about your theories for TOG 6! I’d love to maybe incorporate them ;)

Word Count: 2,090

In a world blurred by rain and deafened by cracking peals of thunder, it was easy to miss the details of the night. Weary travelers lifted their hoods and ducked into nearby taverns and inns, craving the warmth and golden light spilling from windows and doorways, and the promise of shelter and food. A city guard snored in the gatehouse, his neck propped up against the back of his chair, secure in the knowledge that no one too suspicious would come prowling by. Not since the storm threatened to drown and decimate anyone on the precarious mountain roads.

Even the local villagers found it easy to miss the unusual, as they shuttered their windows and barricaded their doors in preparation for possible flooding, the wind howling around them and driving them inside.

And so, no one saw the hawk perched delicately atop the village clock tower, his unnaturally bright eyes observing the dynamic of the town, and not seeming to care that his feathers streamed water, that a spike of lightning reflected against his beak. No one noticed that he didn’t harbor the fear or caution that any other hawk–or animal, for that matter–would have harbored.

The hawk shook himself free of the rain water and spread his wings as lightning once again illuminated the night sky behind him, unleashing a cry that melded with the boom of the thunder that followed.

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Let’s Pretend (Part 3)

Summary: AU! Dean and the reader are neighbors and close friends. As a huge favor, Dean asks her to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family wedding and the reader agrees.

Characters: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,437

Warnings: None.

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this part as much as I did writing it!

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summary: In which Papa is away and Mama falls sick.


For Sarada, Mama was the ultimate hero—invincible, indestructible, indomitable. Mama was a rock. So the day, the shivers came and the sniffles started, she was more than a little startled, because mama never got sick.

It started suddenly, when she was reading a book on the sofa in the corner of mama’s office at the hospital. Out of the blue, she dropped the pen on the book she was reading and pinched the bridge of her nose. Alarmed, Sarada sat up and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sweetie. I’m fine.”

It wasn’t fine, obviously, Sarada thought, because Mama’s fingers were still pinching her nose. But she shrugged it off as one of those moments when Mama couldn’t figure out a problem and went back to reading her book again. Ten minutes later when a team of genin with serious injuries showed up at the emergency, Sarada watched as her mama power walked out the office with a straight spine and a purpose in the gait.

Papa was not home—again, Sarada thought with just a tiny bit of resentment, so she couldn’t go home. So she settled herself more comfortably on the couch and thought of how she was going to kick his ass the next time he showed up. It was a long time before Mama returned and by then, Sarada had already fallen asleep on the couch.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” Mama whispered in her ear, and she sat up groggily.

“W’at time ‘s it?” she asked while rubbing her eyes. The room was dark so she could only make out Mama’s silhouette moving about gathering stuff.

“Late. Mama is sorry for keeping you so late,” she said as Sarada got up from the couch and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Mama collected her things, came around her desk and bent down to kiss her on the forehead, on both her cheeks and then her nose. Blushing, Sarada scowled a little in embarrassment and turned her head away.

Mama giggled and took her hand. It was a little warmer than usual but Sarada didn’t let go. Their pace down home was slow, and every so often Mama would slow down to catch her breath. Sarada chalked it up to chakra depletion—her Mama was very prone to not taking care of self, she thought gravely. Halfway home, Mama’s hand started shaking in hers. A little alarmed now, Sarada looked up and found tiny tremors running down Mama’s body.

“Mama! Are you alright.” She asked carefully, a little trickle of panic running down her spine now.

Breathing a little heavily, Mama managed to smile at her. “I’m fine, baby. Just a little tired.”

Sarada pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and tried to keep the spook out of her voice. “You don’t look fine. Lets hurry home, ok?” She took mama’s hand and began leading her home, her feet automatically moving a little faster. She heard mama laugh a little behind her and her shoulders relaxed a little. Still, she hurried home, and it was a good thing, she thought, her mind a little blank with panic, because as soon as they hit the porch, there was a quiet thump, and Mama’s hand in her own went limp.


If asked to define the most horrible moment in her life, Uchiha Sarada would probably scoff in your face and stare at you like you were created for the sole purpose of licking the dirt off the bottom of her shoes and with just a look, convey the words;  how dare you even have the audacity to speak to me, of me, that way.

But, if you were lucky enough to be a close friend, or Ino-baa-chan, she would cave and tell you the truth; when Papa left for the first time in her conscious state of mind. And she never let anyone know. Not even Mama, but she probably knew anyway.

Now, staring at the limp form of her mother right on their porch, Sarada had an epiphany; a blind sort of realization that only comes when you stare certain disaster in the face. Papa’s was already a rare enough presence, what if she lost Mama too? What if this was it? What if this was her last day with her mother and she’d slept it away? I should’ve trailed her, she thought, mind dizzy with panic. What if she dies? Her mind screamed, and her breathing labored, her breath became short, her eyes started to sting and throat clogged like a fist had just lodged there. Briefly in her mind, flitted the thought that Mama was still breathing; that she should probably do something to help her. But her feet were rooted to the ground and unbidden, tears had started falling down her face.

Breath, she told herself. Move. Slowly, she forced her feet to move forward.  Sobbing freely now, she kneeled in front of Mama, and put two fingers to the side of her throat—the jugular, her mind provided. Just like Mama had taught her, she felt the pulse; a little faster than usual, skin sticky with sweat, and a heat radiating off her skin. In an instant Sarada felt dizzy with relief, started sobbing harder and clutched her Mama’s hand to her chest for reassurance. It was a fever—she’d probably felt twinges before; Sarada remembered the nose-pinching, and had probably worsened as she’d worked herself to exhaustion in the Emergency.

When her breathing became a little stable, she started the laborious task of dragging Mama into the house. At the door she fished the keys out of Mama’s pouch, opened the door and maneuvered Mama into the house. Breathing a little hard, she slipped her glasses up her nose and began to make a game plan; there was no way she’d be able to get Mama to the bed on her own, and Papa wasn’t here—she felt such a twinge of anger for him, her chest burned a little. In that moment, a part of her heart truly hated him. She forced the anger aside, albeit with a little difficulty and noticed that Mama was having trouble breathing with her nose. Losing her composure once again, she did the only thing her scrambled mind could think of; she called Ino-obaa-chan.

To her credit, Ino-obaa-chan didn’t panic in the slightest when she heard Sarada’s muddled, apprehensive explanation. “I’ll be there in five, baby,” she said, and hung up. Sarada exhaled a little in relief as she put the phone down. Mama was still lying on the floor, but she’d thrown an afghan over her.

True to her word, Ino-obaa-chan arrived shortly. From her perch in the doorway she quickly took stock of the situation, her gaze critically analyzing Mama. Then she bent down solemnly and put the back of her hand on Mama’s forehead, assessing her temperature. She pursed her lips and exhaled a sigh of a warrior going to battle. Sarada’s heart was in her throat as she asked, “Whats wrong?”

As if coming out of trance, Obaa-chan’s gaze snapped to her’s and her eyes visibly softened.

“Just a fever,” she replied. “Help me move her, sweetie?”

Sarada nodded and awkwardly pulled up Mama up from the ankles as Ino-obaa-chan carried most of her weight from the front. Together they moved her towards the bedroom where Sarada took off her shoes and Ino-obaa-chan tucked the blankets around her. Mama didn’t stir. Sarada’s heart leapt into her throat and her eyes stung again. She watched as Ino-obaa-chan took out her medical pouch and after a bit of shuffling, took out a digital thermometer and stuck it in Mama’s ear. They both waited with baited breath for a few moments and when Ino-oba-chan finally pulled out the thermometer and checked the reading her eyes narrowed and a frown touched her lips.

“A hundered and four degrees!” she murmured at Mama’s prone form. “What were you doing all day, you stupid Forehead!”

Feeling compelled to defend her Mama in her…state of unconsciousness, Sarada spoke up, almost involuntarily, “There was an emergency Ino-oba-chan! She had to go!”

Ino’s eyes softened when she looked at Sarada. She opened her arms, beckoning her into a hug and Sarada all but ran into her arms. Feeling the warmth of the hug, Sarada felt tears prick her eyes again, and suddenly she was crying again. “I was so—scared!” she sobbed. “I was—so—sca—red. I thought she died! She just—fell down! I—I—I was—so scared!”

Ino-obaa-chan held her close, ran her hands through her hair and rubbed soothing circles on her back. After an eternity, when Sarada had let out all the dread, cried all the fear out, she held her back by the shoulders, looked into her eyes solemnly, and said, “You’ve been such a brave girl, baby.” And as Sarada’s lip wobbled again, she pulled her to her chest again.

When all the sobbing was done, reassurances were made and a distinct lack of male presence was critiqued upon, Ino-obaa-chan finally injected Mama’s arm with antibiotics, and went into the kitchen to make something to eat, and inform Sai-jiji that she’d be staying over tonight. Sarada was grateful. She kissed Mama’s still hot cheek, tucked the blanket under her chin and opened the window. In the depths of the night she blew a whistle, and a moment later a hawk perched on the sill in front of her. It was their fail safe, for moments when an important message was to be relayed to Papa, and Papa alone. Sarada supposed this was adequate emergency. From a drawer she took out a piece of paper, wrote two words, and secured it on the hawk. “Hurry,” she whispered.  It nipped the side of her hair affectionately, and promptly took to the sky.


Ino-obaa-chan made Sarada a light meal and that night, they both slept next to Mama, her in the middle of them both.


The next day, while Ino-obaa-chan sent word to the hospital of the Head’s leave and was making breakfast, Mama woke up. A flu had become companion to her fever, which still hadn’t broken, so she was still delirious. Sarada hugged her tight, and kissed her on the forehead while Ino-obaa-chan chattered worriedly and fed her some scary looking pills.

“You should eat something,” Ino-obaa-chan ordered and promptly went to the kitchen to warm something up. Mama looked a little lost, so Sarada held her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Baby,” she croaked, with a smile and Sarada nodded and held on tighter, “I’m sorry for making you worry.” She squeezed Sarada’s hand and Sarada nodded bravely, held in the tears. A few moments later, she was asleep again, but this time, Sarada’s heart was clenched a little less with worry.


That night Ino-oba-chan stayed with them again. It was the middle of the night, when Sarada heard the rattle of the door, the creaking on the steps. She turned to Ino-oba-chan, who’s eyes were already open and lips were twisted in a scowl so ferocious Sarada understood it could only be one person—Papa.

She was simultaneously relieved and a little scared—of Ino-obaa-chan ripping Papa to shreds. Now that the initial bout of terror had subsided and Mama was a little better, all the anger seemed to have seeped out of her. Her Oba-chan, on the other hand had no such problems; she got out of bed and marched out of the room, hair bellowing like a fiery halo behind her. She looked, Sarada thought, a little awed, like a goddess with a vendetta. For a moment, she feared for her Papa’s life, then she heard Mama wheeze  a little in her sleep, scowled, and decided Papa would deserve all the crap Ino-obaa-chan was about to dish. Smirking, she got out of bed and followed in the steps of the hurricane that was her favorite Obaa-chan.

She found them in the foyer, Ino’s hands on her hips, a magnificent scowl marring her beautiful face while Papa blinked owlishly and looked a little worse for wear.

“How DARE you!” Ino-obaa-chan hissed. “HOW DARE you, you little piece of crap!” she hissed again and loomed over Papa—yes, loomed, Sarada observed, impressed. Her anger had given Ino-oba-chan an oomph that was making Papa lean back a little on his feet.

Finally gaining a little of his composure, Papa scowled back at her. “Yamanaka.” He nodded in acknowledgement.

Ino-obaa-chan seethed. Sarada looked on as she sputtered in indignation before kicking Papa in the shin. To his credit, Papa neither dodged nor winced, which only made Oba-chan more angry. “She DROPPED down!” She finally said in a raised voice. “My best friend DROPPED unconscious and your child was terrified to death!” She spit at him. Sarada’s cheeks warmed, her throat closing again. She inhaled sharply as Papa finally looked at her and neatly averted his gaze.

“At least have the decency to be there for your family! Maybe THAT would be your redemption!” She gave him a final shove and marched back to the room. Sarada watched as her Papa exhaled wearily and rubbed a hand over his face. Giving him a moment to compose himself, she went back to Mama and saw Ino-oba-chan was lying on the bed, a protective arm around Mama’s waist grinding her teeth in anger.

She sighed and went back to the living room where Papa now silently sat on the sofa, looking forlorn and world weary. The lump in her throat got a little larger as she sat down beside him. She swallowed once, twice and tried to speak past it. Papa beat her to it.

“Sarada,” he spoke gently. “Please.”

She looked at him then, and saw such raw emotion in his one visible eye that her own composure broke. In one giant leap, she flew across the couch, threw herself in his arms and sobbed freely. Papa wrapped her up tightly in his arms and held her close. She felt his hands running through her hair and sobbed harder. In between sniffles she finally managed to get out the words, “Why do you go away! I was so scared!”

He held her tighter. “Papa is sorry.”

She cried harder. After a few minutes, when the tears had run out and her nose had stopped running she rested her head more comfortably in the crook of his neck and held on tighter. “I thought she died when she fell,” she said softly.

Papa inhaled sharply. After a moment he gently pried her from his embrace and held her face between his hands—one wrapped in bandages. He slipped his thumbs under her glasses and wiped the moisture away. Then he looked at her and Sarada felt the love in his gaze. “Papa is sorry,” he said again. “Papa is sorry that you had to go through that alone. Papa is sorry for being a sorry excuse of a Papa. Even though you have every right to withhold it, Papa would like it if you’d forgive him?”

Sarada had always observed that her Papa had a serendipitous panache for understated dramatics; he would pause a little theatrically between sentences, look at people with intense eyes. He exuded drama, quite unaware of it, mostly in his silences. It always amused Sarada to no end. But now, he was being dramatic with words, trying to avoid the root of the problem. So she rolled her eyes affectionately, and crossed her arms over her chest. If her leg had been long enough, or if she were standing, her foot would have been tapping impatiently on the floor. “Aaand?” she prompted imperiously.

Papa cocked his head a little. “And?” he asked, a little baffled.

Sarada scowled at him. “This happened because you’re not home enough,” she started, her tone resembling that of a parent reprimanding their petulant child. “So,” she continued, “I will forgive Papa if he stays home more.”

Papa looked a little amused. “But the Hokage needs Papa to do missions for him. How else would Papa feed you and Mama?”

She rolled her eyes in the universal gesture of o’ please and looked at him imperiously. “Mama has a job. You don’t need one. Also, missions aren’t the only time you leave,” she gave him a pointed look, bordering on wounded.

Papa sighed and squared his shoulders. Sarada took the gesture as a premonition of a verbal battle and took a deep breath. She was surprised when Papa simply reached out and took her hand. “Alright,” he said. “Alright.”

“Huh?” she said eloquently.

Papa smiled, as always more in the eyes and less from his mouth. “Aa. Papa will try to stay home more—with you, and with Mama,” he promised.

Sarada examined his face for a few moments, looking for signs of deceit. Then she nodded carefully. “We’ll see,” she said, and Sasuke distinctly heard the undertones of you better and or else.


When they went to see Mama a few moments later, Sarada found that Ino-obaa-chan had fallen asleep with her arms around Mama. Sarada could almost hear Papa scoffing at her. However he didn’t say anything out loud and with silent footsteps he sat on Mama’s bedside and put a hand on her forehead to check her temperature. A light sheen of sweat was covering her face now—which meant the fever was breaking, Sarada knew. Papa nodded to himself a little absently and put a wet cloth on her head from the bowl Ino-obaa-chan had apparently forgotten in her anger. He swept a few strands of hair from her face and tucked the blanket around her sides.

From her perch in the doorway, Sarada couldn’t help but smile.


To say that Sakura was surprised to wake up wrapped in the arms of Yamanaka Ino was quite an understatement. Her sluggish mind could barely make out the details of the room, she was having difficulty breathing through her nose and her throat was parched as hell. But the thing that surprised her the most was a warm hand clutching her own and a solid weight on the very edge of the bed. When she strained her head a little she made out the disheveled form of her husband—her husband who wasn’t due home for another two weeks, her husband who was supposed to be helping an earthquake smitten village on the very edges of Fire Country.

Feeling a little bewildered she tried to get up. Her head swam. She swallowed thickly and laid down again. It only took a few more moments for her mind to drift back to sleep again.


When she woke up again, she felt a small weight on her abdomen and had to only move her head a little to see Sarada wrapped around her middle.

“You’re up,” she heard a deep voice and turned her head to a very tired husband, now lying on her other side.

“Sasuke-kun?” she managed to croak.

“Aa.” He gave her a stern look.

She blinked. Her head was a little clear now, but her body was drenched in sweat. She remembered the Chakra Exhaustion, falling down…the rest was a little blurry. “What’re you doing here?”

“You fell ill. Unconscious,” he said in reply. “Sarada was worried,” he chided gently.

She looked at the tiny form at her side, breathing gently, and frowned, feeling contrite. “Ah. I’m sorry.” She turned and wound her arms around Sarada, buried her face in her hair and inhaled deeply. She felt another, larger set of arms wrap around her from behind and couldn’t help but smile.

Okaeri, Papa.”

A pause.

Tadaima, Mama.”



Naruto is the one who takes her home. He has a clone pick a sleeping Sarada up from her grandparents and tucks her into her bed. He then tries to guide Sakura to her own room, but she shrugs away his hands and moves stiffly and alone. She winces when she sits and arranges her sheets around her. Naruto ignores her glower and fixes the pillows behind her so that she may lean back. When she does and when he sees her, her eyes are glassy with unshed tears and her lips are thinned and vicious.

“I’ll contact Sasuke,” he promises. “We haven’t heard from him since you met with him three months ago, but I’ll track him down and I’ll let him know what happened and–”


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anonymous asked:

peter parker + [literally] swinging by the avengers tower after work just to watch them hanging out

he has a favorite nook up at the very top, where he can spring behind an outcropping and hide a moment’s notice, but can still see the main living areas. it’s very comfortable and, in one of the slower moments (rare indeed) he graffitied a little corner with a spider. he was going to add a black widow spider along with it, and lots of heart and some cute widdle spider babies, but when he realized JARVIS was likely aware of his presence, he quickly decided against the chance it would be found.

it started out as a venture to see these other alleged superheroes, half to learn and half to see what life could be like if you were “out”.

after gwen’s death, it became a coping mechanism to take up his time and occupy his mind.

he likes to joke to himself that he’ll take pictures and make a fortune.

but really, the whole escapade has really been because he’s fallen in love with these people, his secret family.

there’s natasha, of course, the red-headed assassin with crazy socks and a crazy smile and a different personality every second of the day. he’s convinced he’ll never stop having a crush on her — but then again that probably goes for everyone. (hey, but other spiders have a better chance, right? right?) he’s watched her box steve to the ground, sit on top of clint to get a better view of the wii, and practice ballet when no one has been around to watch her anger at something he doesn’t understand. he still doesn’t know which is his favorite.

and with natasha comes clint. clint’s harder to understand than he seems — he comes across like a stern-faced hawk perching with a view, but he’s really a giant dork with two broken wings and a large beak to fill. sure, he’s got a mood sometimes and you really, really need to get him his coffee, but peter couldn’t ever forget the dog he adopted. cute lil guy. bit tony in the nuts first day in the tower, and then spent a week with clint on top of the fireplace. (even through the glass, peter could hear clint squawking) he has a lot of figurines and really likes trying to prank people, successfully or not. peter’s been around for more of the non-successful ones.

thor visits sometimes, and then the glass vibrates with sound as he leads jolly revels and hugs everyone too hard (he was more careful with bruce after that) and brings much mead. heh, peter tried the leftovers once through an open window. that was not a good night at all. still wasn’t sure how he got home — he dreamt of a blue light and a goatee but dreams are crazy like that. of course, other times, thor sits quietly playing chess with bruce and complimenting tony on his handiwork, being a gentle presence and one everyone seems to trust. definitely has some muscle problems. maybe steroids.

tales abound about the identity of the hulk, but most of the general populace have no idea who the green giant really is. at first, bruce was disappointing, but peter… well, peter thinks he’s his favorite sometimes. he’s quiet and careful and soft-spoken, with too many nervous tics to count. over time though, he’s mellowed out. he does yoga in the living room instead of in corners of storage spaces. he joins in on game nights and even attempted mario kart once. (attempted being the optimal word (peter snapped private photos of that and keeps them under his pillow for hard nights) one time, something as unaccountable as usual happened on a night out, and when everyone arrived back to the tower, they were carrying the hulk, who was sniffling and hugging tony to his generous chest and patting him gently. that was a kodak moment if peter ever saw one.

heh, tony. tony stark, iron man. the whole country’s heard of him, peter even met him once at a conference. but the man’s different behind closed doors, among those he trusts. sure, he still obviously pisses people off — good lord, there have been some near-brawls. and the one time he took clint’s coffee there was an all-out prank war that lasted a month. but he also gets a real sad look around his eyes, and spends hours some days staring at his arc reactor in the mirror. he’s fallen asleep on his compatriots more often than not, but still never sleeps when he should. peter once managed to get a view of his workshop, a sight which made him drool with excitement, but was too littered with take out and espresso containers to make him confident tony was doing okay. steve comes down most often to make tony get to bed, a gesture tony never listens to but which is always enforced. that seems to be tony’s MO, actually. peter never forgot the one night he got drunk and then fell asleep on steve’s chest.

oh yeah, FRICKING STEVE ROGERS. CAPTAIN AMERICA. HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE GUY HAVE YOU BECAUSE HE’S KINDA FLIPPING AWESOME HE PUNCHED A TANK UNCONSCIOUS ONCE AND SAVED THE WORLD A COUPLE TIMES AND YEAH. YEAH YEAH YEAH. but yeah he’s pretty cool. does some awesome things. probably shouldn’t talk about them. too cool for shcool, ya  knwo.waioghapSTEVEROGERS.

bucky shows up sometimes, all brooding and dark and wearing way too many stickers on his metal arm. a guy with metal wings occasionally follows him, and peter’s convinced he’s spoken at a convention before. when those two show up, the party is bound to get exciting. scrabble, for sure, will never be the same again.

maybe peter parker isn’t an avenger. but sometimes, you know, he sure feels like one.

what doesn’t occur to him is that he isn’t the only one watching — until the day a polite man with a worn smile shows up at his door.

“Hello, Mr. Parker? I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”  

But the signatures just represents each character so perfectly I mean look:

Clint’s is at the highest point like a hawk on a perch and it has an arrow because he’s obsessed with his arrows. 

Then on his left is Nat’s which is just nondescript, simple, and straight to the point.

Then there’s Steve’s which is also simple and modest because he also put “cap” under it like someone might not know who he is.

Then Thor’s is underlined and capital letters because he’s hard to miss and easy to hear.

Fury’s is sharp and all lines and not very extravagant because he doesn’t have time for this shit. 

Tony’s signature is the largest and most extravagant. It’s front and center and in your face and is almost cutting into Fury’s glory there. 

Pepper’s is a mix of schoolgirl and CEO, it just screams her. 

Coulson’s looks like typical business executive because you would never guess that he could kick your ass with a bag of flour. 

Then there’s Bruce, who’s signature is the smallest and quietest like he’s trying not to be noticed. 

Maria Hill’s has the same feel as Pepper’s except messier like instead of firing you she’ll just knock you out instead. 

And finally, Loki’s is straight up sharp and elegant. That’s basically the signature of someone who does what they want.