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betweenstorms · 2 months ago

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Part Two of Where We Part (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Time has a funny way of slipping through your fingers, doesn’t it?

The years passed as they do, quietly, relentlessly and somehow, unintentionally you followed Simon Riley’s advice, no matter how much it stung during that particular summer night.

You grew older, wiser, or at least you hoped you did.

At the end of that warm, suburban summer, you left Manchester behind, moved to London for university, found yourself caught up in the complexity of adulthood, chasing dreams, making mistakes, falling in love, losing it. You lived your life, embraced its peaks and valleys, and let it sweep you along. Some days were golden, like those late summer days in your twenties when laughter was easy, love felt endless, and the world seemed filled with promise. You travelled with your new friends from university, gelato dripping down your wrist as you laughed under the bright Sicilian sun, the loud conversation with your girls echoing across the cobblestone streets. You invited your parents to London several times, playing tourist with them, showing them your new apartment, savouring moments of connection between the gaps of your new life and their old one. And then there was the day your boyfriend knelt before you, a ring glinting in the rose gold streetlights of Paris, asking you to be his fiancée.

Oh, it was the kind of moment you had always dreamed of, the fairy tale that every little girl secretly hopes will come true.

But life isn’t all dreams, is it?

You wept like a child, your heart shattered when you found out about the affair. Your fiancé, with your college roommate of all people. It felt like betrayal layered upon betrayal, and the sadness you carried then weighed more than all the joy of your past put together, manifested in the hollow echoes of your aching sobs in the shared flat you once called home. You moved out shortly after that incident.

Unfortunately, there were other disappointments, too. Failed job interviews, missed opportunities, the loneliness that seeped into your bones in those years after university, when friends began to drift away and the beauty of childhood transforms into a fading memory. But you picked yourself up. You always did. Because that’s what you did. That’s what you knew best. You kept moving, because the alternative, sinking, was unthinkable.

But through it all, you lived.

And you wouldn’t change a thing even if you had the chance.

You threw yourself into your work, into the messy and beautiful chaos of life. There were still some moments where you felt like you had the world at your feet, laughing with your high school mates over beers in dingy pubs, watching the sun set over London’s skyline, those spontaneous trips to the coast where you tasted freedom in every salty breeze. And you moved forward, not necessarily because you wanted to, but because time forced you to. But that was fine by you.

And in the quiet corners of your mind, Simon Riley became a distant thought—like the chorus of a song you used to know like the back of your hand. You thought of him less and less as the years went by, as your life became more complicated, more full.

You took his words to heart, didn’t you?

You left him behind.

But still, he lingered.

There were those times, in the early years, when your parents would call, giving you updates on Manchester, on the neighbours, on the old street you grew up on. You’d ask about the Rileys, casually, as if it didn’t really matter. You weren’t prying, not really, just curious. What had become of Simon? Of Tommy? Your parents mentioned Simon had joined the military at some point, which didn’t surprise you. He always carried a soldier’s weight, even as a boy.

They told you about Tommy too, how his life had spiralled out of control with drugs and the wreckage of his past trauma. Your mother sighed when she mentioned Mrs. Riley and how she had hit rock bottom. But Simon, when he returned from deployment, finally helped them rid themselves of Mr. Riley for good, breaking the cycle of abuse that had poisoned their lives for years.

Your parents even got a bit more involved in the Riley’s lives after that—dropping in with food, attending Tommy’s wedding with a kind soul named Beth, helping with little Joseph, their gorgeous newborn, who your mum absolutely adored. She’d tell you about him during your weekend catch-ups.

However, as time went on, the Rileys faded from your thoughts, a chapter you had quietly closed.

Your own life was blooming in London, despite the mistakes you made along the way. You loved fiercely, lost greatly, and found your way back to yourself time and again. The more you lived, the less you thought about the boy who once lived next door.

Until that cold November afternoon.

The air was ice cold, but not just from the weather. It was the kind of chill that settled deep in your bones, the kind that gnawed at you long after the sun had set during winter.

The day had been unremarkable at first—work was its usual rhythm of meetings and emails, the sound of your co-workers chattering as a familiar background noise. But then your phone rang, your mother’s weak voice trembling on the other end like the fragile crackle of dry leaves in the wind during autumn.

You had heard your mother cry before.

The grief at a relative’s passing, the heartache of a goodbye too long drawn out—but this was different. Her sobs were frantic, her rushed words spilling over each other in terrified, broken fragments, so hurried you could hardly catch the meaning.

“The Rileys… oh God, love, the Rileys are gone…”

It took you a moment to grasp what she was saying.

Gone? How? You sat frozen, the world around you blurring as your mum’s words came in and out like waves crashing against the shore.

“Dear Lord, some maniac... a psychopath… some madman…” she choked. “He killed them. Killed them all. Tommy, Beth, even little Joseph, an innocent baby, Oh God…”

You could hear your mother’s quiet anguish, but it was as though you were outside yourself, hearing everything from a great distance.

The Rileys. Dead. It didn’t make sense. Mrs. Riley, Tommy, Beth, the child—how could they be gone? The thought was too large and too grotesque to fully comprehend. It was like a nightmare, one you couldn’t wake up from.

“And… Simon?”

A name you hadn’t uttered in years.

A name that had always lingered on the edges of your memory, like a shadow cast by fading light.

Your mother’s breath caught. “I don’t know. Oh, love. He wasn’t there… I think he’s still in the military, but… we don’t know, we were asleep, didn’t hear a thing.”

She was crying again, her sobs muffled by the phone. Her sobs broke through, and she confessed, through gasps of guilt, that she and your father had been sound asleep when it happened, oblivious to the horror just next door. The sanctuary of your childhood, the quiet safety of the neighbourhood, shattered in a mere second.

Your mind raced, your heart thundering in your chest.

Oh, all those years, all those moments where you hadn’t thought about Simon Riley, and now, now the past was clawing its way back, forcing you to confront something you had thought you’d left behind.

Your coworkers looked up, sensing something was wrong. One of them asked if you were okay, if you needed anything, but you barely heard them. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything, but all you could do was tremble. Your hands squeezed as you gripped your phone, trying to keep your voice steady as you told your mother you’d drive up to Manchester right away, that you’d be there soon. When the call ended, and you were out the door before you had time to gather your thoughts. The moments after that were a blur, your body on autopilot as you stumbled to your car. The urgency to get there, to understand what had happened, burned through you, like liquid fire in your veins.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Pain hit you suddenly, sharp and overwhelming, something you’ve never felt before. It started as a dull ache in your lower stomach, but it intensified rapidly until you were doubled over, gasping for breath. You couldn’t drive, you couldn’t think. By the time you finally made it to your flat, the pain had become unbearable. Something was wrong, you knew. Terribly wrong.

You had to call for an ambulance, your hands shaking as you dialled the number.

However, you weren’t thinking about yourself as they wheeled you into the hospital, weren’t listening to the doctor’s voice as he explained the situation—appendicitis, nothing lethal, a routine surgery, and you’d be fine but you had to stay still.

Throughout your surgery, all you could think about was Simon. The boy who had grown into a man who you barely knew anymore, the man who had lived through hell and had come back to face it once again. Was he back in Manchester? Was he grieving? Or had he been claimed by the same nightmare that had taken the rest of his family?

After the surgery, you lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down your face. It wasn’t the pain of your own body that made you cry—it was the helplessness, the not knowing, the fear that somewhere out there, Simon, your childhood friend, was lost, alone, and there was nothing you could do to help him.

You spent the first few hours after the surgery drifting between sleep and wakefulness, your mind clouded with both painkillers and the overwhelming ache of uncertainty. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw flashes of the past—memories of Manchester, the Rileys, Simon. The years blurred, and for a moment, you could almost feel the gentle summer sun on your skin again, hear the distant murmur of a time that seemed too far gone.

But the present was relentless.

Your parents arrived in London as quickly as they could, your mother staying by your side, fussing over you as she had when you were a child. Her hands were warm, but her eyes betrayed her fear. Fear for you, fear for what had happened back in Manchester. She stayed while your father left for the funeral—the collective service for the Rileys, held only a week after their brutal end.

You couldn’t go, of course. Fucking appendicitis.

The thought of missing that final goodbye gnawed at you. You couldn’t let it go. Therefore, you wrote. A letter. A really long letter. In the small hours of the night, with the hospital lights dimmed and the distant hum of machinery as your only company, you penned a letter.

The words didn’t come easily.

What could you possibly say to Simon Riley, after all these years? What could you write that would bring him any semblance of comfort, any understanding in the face of such senseless tragedy? How could you explain to him how sorry you were? Sorry for what had happened to his family, sorry that you weren’t there when he needed someone most, sorry for all the years you’d spent avoiding the memories of your childhood, of him. But you had to try.

You wrote with a trembling hand, pouring everything you couldn’t say aloud into that letter, every apology that had been lodged in your throat for years. You tied it to your father’s soul, knowing he would deliver it to Simon, wherever he might be. And your father, with his quiet strength, promised he would.

When the day of the funeral came, you lay in your bed, imagining the cold November air, the way the ground must have looked under the grey Manchester sky. You pictured the small crowd, neighbours, and friends from the community, all standing in sombre silence as the Rileys were laid to rest. But what haunted you most was the image of Simon—if he was even there at all. You wondered if he stood apart from the others, his broad shoulders hunched, his face unreadable as ever. Or maybe he hadn’t come at all, disappearing into the shadows once again, as he always had.

The week crawled by, each day dragging longer than the last. Your mother stayed by your side, but the quiet weight of what had happened in Manchester pressed down on both of you. Your father returned, but there was no news of Simon. Your dad told you that they didn’t talk much. No sight of him after the funeral. No trace of him in the days after. He had vanished, leaving behind an empty house and a tragedy too vast to comprehend. And when you finally recovered enough to leave the hospital, you made the trip back to Manchester with your mother.

The familiar streets felt like a ghost of themselves—places once filled with memories now overshadowed by the grim reality of what had happened. The Riley house stood empty, its windows dark, the air around it thick with loss. You stood at the gate for a long time, staring at the house that had once been so full of life, of pain, of everything in between. But now, it was nothing. Just a shell. Just another haunted corner of your past.

There were no answers. No signs of Simon.

And in the end, after a week of trying to help your parents, after a week of grieving and remembering, you left. You packed your things and drove back to London, promising yourself you’d never return. The city you had once called home felt cursed now, and the memories it held were too heavy to bear.

You couldn’t escape the past, though. Not really.

The promise you made to yourself all those years ago, to never return to that godforsaken city, was one you kept for a long time. It wasn’t out of spite or bitterness, but rather out of a quiet resignation. You had moved on, created a life in London that was full of both the mundane and the extraordinary. And after your parents moved to Wimbledon, following your father’s cancer diagnosis, the ties to Manchester became even more frayed.

It wasn’t until your thirty-fourth birthday that you found yourself heading back to the place you swore you’d never return to.

Not for family, not for closure, but for something as trivial and absurd as a fucking high school reunion. It had started with a sudden phone call from one of your old mates, the same group you used to run around with in your youth.

You hadn’t heard from them in years. Well, apart from the occasional likes on Instagram posts or an awkwardly short birthday text.

“Fifteen bloody years,” your friend had said, her voice bright and insistent. “You’ve been stuck in London with your fancy life, and we’ve barely seen you. Time to get your arse back here and have a pint with the group, eh? It’s been too long, girl.”

You laughed it off at first, citing your tight work schedule and your responsibilities. But the more she talked, the more you realised how long it had been since you’d even thought about that part of your life. A simpler time, before the complexities of adulthood and all its responsibilities weighed on you.

So you agreed. You didn’t really know why, maybe out of a sense of pure nostalgia or maybe out of some lingering guilt.

The drive up to Manchester was long, and your nerves sat uneasily in your chest. What would it be like to see those familiar faces again, to walk the streets that had once been the backdrop of your childhood? Would it feel like home? Or would it feel like you didn’t belong anymore, a ghost walking through memories?

However, by the time you saw the familiar landmarks, something in you began to settle. The nervousness faded, replaced by a strange calmness, as if the city itself recognised you and offered some kind of unspoken truce. You arrived at the pub where your reunion was being held—the same one you used to frequent during your teenage years. It was a dive, the kind of place that hadn’t aged well, but that’s exactly what made it feel like time had stood still.

Inside, the air was warm, thick with the smell of beer and the hum of conversation. And then there they were, your dear friends, sitting in a corner, laughing just like they always did. The moment you walked in, it was as if no time had passed at all. They greeted you with familiar smiles, pulling you into tight hugs and offering you a pint almost immediately.

The conversation flowed easily, old jokes resurfacing, stories being retold with exaggerated details and you found yourself chuckling. No, truly laughing, in a way you hadn’t done in what felt like ages. The weight of the years melted away, and for those brief hours, you felt like you were a teenager again, full of life and possibility, untouched by the heaviness that had since followed you. Oh, you hadn’t even realised how much you missed it, missed them. The simplicity of it all. The foolishness of youth.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drinking more than you should have. The beers went down easy, their familiar taste blending with the warm laughter and nostalgia. You hadn’t had a drink in a while, not properly, and it didn’t take long for the alcohol to loosen your limbs and soften the edges of reality. You felt light-headed, slightly detached from your surroundings but in that comfortable way that comes with the perfect level of drunkenness. Your words were slurring a bit, your laughter louder, but you didn’t mind.

Not tonight.

Eventually, the haze became a bit too much, and you excused yourself from the table. You needed fresh air, a moment for yourself to step away from the heat of the pub and the noise of the reunion. You fumbled with your jacket as you headed for the back of the building, where the designated smoking area was. It was behind the pub, near the dimly lit, empty parking lot, and as you made your way there, you nearly tripped over a discarded bottle on the ground.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered under your breath, the curse falling easily from your lips. Even small inconveniences seemed dramatic when you were tipsy. Some habits never died.

When you reached the smoking area, you were grateful to see it wasn’t crowded. Just one man, standing off to the side, leaning against the wall of the building, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he took a long drag. The tip of the cig glowed bright orange in the darkness. His silhouette seemed larger than life, almost unreal in the way he stood. He was massive, the kind of bloke you’d notice even in a crowded room, let alone in the quiet of the night.

Tall as a statue but built like a brick wall—shoulders broad and thick with muscle, his frame nearly filling the space between the wall and the edge of the lot.

At first, you stopped, startled by his size.

He was the sort of man you’d expect to see guarding the door, maybe a bouncer or a security guard. That made sense, considering how much physical strength he had. You nodded at him out of politeness, the way you do when you make eye contact with a stranger and want to acknowledge their presence without committing to a conversation. His gaze lingered on you, sharp and calculating.

Why was he looking at you like that?

You quickly turned away, feeling oddly self-conscious, and pulled out your cig, attempting to light it. But of course, as your luck would have it, your lighter chose that moment to give up on you. No matter how many times you flicked the damn thing, it refused to spark.

“Seriously?” you muttered, cursing your luck again. The bravado of the alcohol in your system pushed you to turn towards your only companion, flashing him an awkward smile. “Hi. Hello. Any chance you’ve got a lighter, mate?”

The man didn’t speak at first.

He just watched you, observed you, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and reflective under the dim light of the parking lot. There was something oddly familiar about the way he held himself, something in the way he stared at you that sent a ripple of recognition through you, but you couldn’t quite place it.

Without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a black, well-worn lighter, and flicked it open. The flame sparked to life, small but steady, and he leaned forward, offering it to you. You stepped closer, holding your cigarette to the flame.

As you did, you couldn’t help but take a better look at him.

His face was mostly obscured by the dim lighting, but his features were hard and chiselled. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken more than once, with a small scar running through his upper lip. His lips were thin, pressed into a line that gave nothing away, and the faint lines around his eyes hinted at a man who had lived through more than most. However, it was his gaze, those beautiful hazel eyes, that stopped you cold. They were sharp, almost piercing, and there was something else behind them—an intensity that made your stomach tighten.

For a moment, you thought it might just be the alcohol playing tricks on you, but the longer you looked, the more certain you became. There was no mistaking it.

Those eyes, guarded and haunted, belonged to Simon Riley.

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking a quick drag from your cig, stepping back, trying to act casual even though your heart was racing.

There was something about his presence, something that felt both familiar and distant at the same time. It had been years, after all. You’d moved on, or so you thought. But standing here now, the weight of the past pressed down on you, the memories flooding back like a tide you couldn’t hold back. This random bloke before you… yes, the resemblance was mad uncanny. You stole glances at the giant man, unsure, your mind buzzing with uncertainty and the effects of the alcohol. Was it really him? Could it be?

You hesitated, your hand trembling slightly as you took another drag from your cigarette. You wanted to ask, but the words stuck in your throat, too afraid to sound foolish. Too afraid that if you asked, you’d break whatever fragile moment this was. But before you could find the courage to speak, the man sighed.

That sigh.

It was unmistakable—quiet, irritated, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he was tired of carrying it. It was the same sigh you’d heard all those years ago, on that warm summer night beneath the street lamps.

“Fuckin' hell,” he muttered under his breath, the deep, rough rumble of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “S’me. Stop gawkin'.”

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planetception · 6 months ago

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Pain and Heartbreak - Paige Bueckers

My first ever fanfic! Sorry if it sounds bad, I'm just getting back into writing. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Paige yells at you for being too clingy while Kk is on a live

Cw: Asshole Paige, hurt and no comfort, mentions of past verbal abusive relationship

pt 2

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You always believed that Paige was okay with your clinginess. She never showed any signs of annoyance or discomfort when you sat on her lap or buried your face in her neck during emotional moments. You were convinced she didn't mind your constant attachment, except when she had practice. Even then, she would call you whenever she had the chance, just to check on you and see how you were doing. You thought Paige was the most caring girlfriend, until she wasn't.

Things came to a crashing point one night when Kk decided to do a late night live. You had just returned to the dorm Kk and Paige shared, feeling exhausted and yearning for Paige’s warm embrace. As you walked in, you quickly greet Kk and the live audience before heading straight to Paige’s room. Opening the door quietly, you saw your girlfriend with her ipad propped up on her nightstand as she was half asleep. Giggling to yourself as you changed into more comfortable clothes before snuggling up to a sleepy Paige, your face found its usual spot buried in Paige’s neck, but when you did that she pushed you off of her.

“Not now Y/n.” She told you in a monotone voice as she got off the bed and headed out to the living room. You looked visibly hurt as you watched your girlfriend leave you all alone in her bed. Seconds later, you could hear Paige and Kk entertain the live as the audience asked questions and such. Once again you felt hurt as she was acting more like herself on the live than she was with you minutes ago. Shortly Paige comes back and immediately sighs as she sees that you’re still awake. “You’re still awake?” She asks monotonously, her blue eyes piercing into yours. You just nodded as she crawled into bed next to you, when you tried to cuddle with her, she once again pushed you right off of her. Now it was your turn to get annoyed by her actions as you sat up in her bed. “What’s gotten into you recently?” You asked her as she rolled her eyes at you. “What??” She sounds offended, “Nothing has gotten into me ok? I’m tired as hell and I want to go to bed. Is that so hard to understand?” Now she’s starting to talk to you like a child.

You just stared at her, feeling a sharp sting of hurt and embarrassment. It was as if you were a child being scolded by a parent. Paige, clearly exasperated, rolled her eyes and turned away from you in bed, her back a cold, unyielding wall.

“Pai-” You tried to get out before she cut you off immediately.

“Would you leave me the fuck alone!? God you’re so fucking clingy and shit, fucking pissing me off every goddamn day!” She screamed at you.

You just stared at her as tears began falling down your face. You knew that the live heard Paige just scream at you for being too clingy. Paige just looked at you with an annoyed expression and just belittled you even more.

“Great. Now you’re fucking crying. This is why she left you isn’t it Y/n? She probably got sick of your constant whining and pathetic neediness every second didn't she?”

At this point, tears were streaming down your face at an uncontrollable pace. You jumped out of Paige’s bed, hastily grabbing your belongings before bolting out of her room. You ran past Kk, who was frantically trying to apologize to her live audience for the yelling before quickly ending the stream. She knew immediately that people would be talking about this incident by morning and that Geno was bound to hear about it.

You walked down the street, replaying Paige’s hurtful words over and over again in your mind. Tears were still streaming down your face, leaving a salty trail on your cheeks, as your phone kept blowing up, you don’t even want to look at it right now. You knew that it was probably Kk asking if you were okay, or it was the media spreading the clip of the yelling around.

Eventually you reached your apartment. Walking inside you threw your phone onto the couch as you toppled to the ground sobbing uncontrollably. Paige never yelled at you like that before. She knew how your last girlfriend constantly berated you for the smallest things. This betrayal from Paige felt like a hot knife twisting in your heart, each tear a testament to the pain you thought you had escaped from.

You ended up falling asleep on the floor that night, exhaustion and sorrow overtaking you. When you woke up you reached for your phone with shaky and took a deep breath before checking your notifications. You had around 15 texts in total, most of them came from Kk, a few from both Nika and Azzi, and surprisingly none from Paige. The absence of her name felt like a fresh wound. The next thing you checked was twitter, the video of Paige screaming at you in the background of Kk’s live was all on your timeline. Most people were sympathizing with you, condemning Paige’s actions, while some people praised Kk for her handling of the situation.

The next thing you saw made your jaw drop, it was a statement from Paige’s twitter account. Her statement gave you mixed emotions, it was like she didn’t even feel sorry for what she did and that made your heart break even more.

“Hi this is Paige Bueckers and I wanted to deeply apologize for my actions that were heard in a live last night. This does not reflect how I am as a person and I am genuinely sorry for any commotion that was caused last night. While what I said may be seen as hurtful to some, but put yourself in my shoes in that instant and you would blow up too-”

You couldn’t even finish reading it before you threw your phone across the living room collapsing into tears once more. That marked the heartbreaking end of your and Paige’s relationship, leaving you with a sense of despair. After enduring two devastating experiences that ended in such familiar fashion, you swore off dating all together.

#wbb x reader #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers imagine #wbb #sorry if this is shit

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kiwismitten · 7 months ago

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Tired words | Wriothesley x GN!reader

Angst/comfort: Being the frontlines for the whole country’s fate can really make a man lose sleep. After the events that took place, and the sudden return of his lover he’s very snippy.

spoilers: main fontaine archon quest!

CW: yelling , reader almost ded , wriothesley kinda ooc (let me know if i missed anything!)

words: 1751

The halls of the Fortress of Meropide have never felt colder as you make your way to your boyfriend’s office. The events of the days before fresh in everyone’s mind. The incident in Poisson only a few days before your return.

You were on an academic trip to Sumeru, learning about the herbal medicines and picking up some fruits and herbs to bring back to Fontaine. As soon as the steam bird articles showed up at your host home’s door the night of the incident, you apologized and began packing your bags. You’ve never moved with such haste. Of course you know about the prophecy, and Wriothesley had told you before he didn’t even know if he was Fontainian and joked a ton about getting turned into water alongside everyone else. You personally, just weren’t willing to let him take that chance.

The rushed trip back still felt like it took twice as long as the venture there. Jogging through the city with your bag still on your back, listening to depressing conversations from the other citizens about their impending fate. Frantically, you reach the Fortress entrance, and make your way down.

That’s how you ended up standing outside your boyfriend’s office, anxiety coursing through your body. Even the fortress was in disarray. Your soft knocks on the door earn no response, so you slowly push the heavy doors open with a loud creek.

“Darling?” Your voice echos through the bottom floor, your eyes gazing over everything before landing on the strange staircase going further down that you never noticed before.You drop your bags at the door before cautiously venturing down. “Wriothesley?”

A strong hand grabs your shoulder from behind you making you gasp.

“What are you doing?” He looks exhausted, his tone of voice far from the playful, carefree Wriothesley you’ve grown attached to. Sounding closer to how he addresses inmates. Heat fills your torso with joy, seeing he’s okay, and you fling yourself at him wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re okay…” His normal scowl doesn’t leave his face. Different again since his face normally softens at your contact.

“Yes, yes I’m okay what are you doing here.” He says the bags under his eyes more pronounced than normal, sparking worry in your brain.

“I heard what happened in Poisson, and I left early,” You stood in front of him staring up at his towering figure. He sighs, wiping his face with his wrapped hand. His exhaustion seemed to be weighing on him harder at your statement.

“Why.. did you have to come back now?” he pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. Your joy falters at his display.

“What do you mean darling..” Your arms fall to your sides. He stares at your form, his eyes piercing through you.

“I mean I thought with you away I'd have one less thing to worry about,” Venom laces his words. “Especially coming to the fortress during times like this, I thought I’d finally be able to focus on the prophecy, but now with you here you’ll need me to be with you so often.” Your heart jumps to your throat. He’s never been so cold to you. Has he always seen being with you as a chore, or is it just the high stress of the current situation. The emotions thick in the air make it difficult to think rationally. The salty air filling your lungs feels heavy and overwhelming.

“I’ll get out of the way.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Glancing down at your feet.

“Well I am. Now please, I have very important matters to get to.” He pushes past you mumbling under his breath. Stunned in silence, soft tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Slowly, you made your way out of the fortress to stay at a small hotel.

You stayed at the hotel for the night, before the news of an archon going on trial reaches you in the morning. News travels fast in Fontaine, especially when there’s always a journalist creeping in the background. Deciding that staying and rotting in a hotel isn’t how you want to spend your first full day home, and you take a short stroll through the bustling streets. It’s as if no one really minds their impending fate. After reaching the opera epiclese you sit at one of the benches by the fountain. Staring into the water you smile remembering all the times you and Wriothesley sat at the near by benches eating together after his work. How you would lean your head on his shoulder listening to the soft roar of water as it cycles through, but if you were to melt into the sea now, it would be knowing that he brushed you away for being worried about him. A sigh escapes your lips as you continue your stroll, and eventually it gets interrupted by a crowd of people trickling out of the opera house. Gossiping amongst themselves about the archon, and not even batting an eye at the soft patter of rain on pavement.

The rain starts to pick up at an alarming rate, making people rush off under trees, and any form of cover they could find. A somber look rises to your face. “Is this it?” You take a seat on your normal bench, getting soaked in the pelting rain feeling the rain pool at your feet closing your eyes and letting the joyful memories flow through you.

All you really remember is the feeling of water picking you up. Floating through with a peaceful look on your face.Then a graceful arm wrapping around you and bringing you up, and you were suddenly in the air able to breath once again before everything went black.

Waking up in the fortress is never really a heart-warming experience. Especially when it’s in the cold clinical setting of the infirmary. The blurry metallic ceiling is the first thing you see, the bronze color only familiar to the fortress, so you’re immediately aware of where you are. You try to sit up, only to get pushed down by the smaller head nurse.

“Y/N be careful please, you’ve been out for a whole day you’re still healing.” Sigewinne frets over you holding her sticker covered clipboard.

“I feel fine,” You sit up in your bed, feeling the exhaustion hit you. You look around the other beds full of inmates. “I just need some food in me, and I’ll be right as rain.” a smile sheepishly crosses your face at the small joke. Sigewinne frowns and huffs as you pick at the various vital trackers attached to you. She helps a bit and takes out your IV.

“Just like his grace said you would,” you tense at the mention of him forcing a smile. “Just stay here he said to grab him as soon as you’re awake.” Eyes widening, you wait for her to leave before pulling the sheets off of yourself and rushing out of the infirmary. Your vision still blurry from the lack of food. Rushing through the halls, you stop at the canteen, smiling at Bran who waves you over.

“Ah y/n here for your welfare meal?” He smiles softly at your tired form before turning behind him to grab one of the nicer meals. “Courtesy of his grace, eat up.” You slip behind one of the many boxes before sitting on the floor and opening the delicious meal.

Wriothesley walks ahead of Sigewinne his heavy steps unmistakable. When he reaches the infirmary and sees your bed empty he curses under his breath. Sigewinne sighs pouting.

“I did ask her to stay your grace, but they did act weird when I mentioned I was fetching you,” Irritated he walks out, going immediately to the gardes who rat you out immediately.

Too immersed in your delicious food you don’t even notice the heavy steps approaching the canteen.

“What can I do for you your grace,” You stop mid-chew peeking out from the top of the box.

“Have you seen y/n I’m looking for them,” his voice has the carefree energy that you missed so much. His eyes dart around the canteen before meeting yours behind the box where you duck under again. “Ah, never mind, bran.” his heavy steps approach the box, his shadow looming over as you pop back up looking at your hands. He places a heavy hand on your head.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly, tears threatening to fall again. At the break of your voice, he scoops you into his arms his long strides carrying you to his office. He wraps his arms around you as you feel small water droplets fall onto your clothes.

“y/n..” his voice cracks. You’ve never seen him break down like this, he’s the strong one, the one that never lets his strength falter. “I was so scared, i’m so sorry, I should’ve never said any of that shit to you, I was so stressed out after the fortress almost collapsed to the prophecy. I wasn’t getting enough sleep I was exhausted and I took it out on you. I’m so fucking sorry.” Seeing him crumble on top of you was heart-wrenching. His rambling spilling through his lips as his eyes dart across your face. “When Clorinde brought you onto the ship I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, I tried everything but you felt so cold..” He buries his face in your neck.

“I’m okay Wrio, I don’t know what happened but, I’m here I’m fine,” You wrap your arms loosely around his torso. “Honestly I thought I was gonna die with you angry at me, but now I’m here. Getting pushed away hurt, but we’re both okay,” You mumble into his chest.

“I’ll never speak to you like that again, I don’t think I could ever live with myself knowing you left this world with me angry at you when I had no right to be. All you wanted was to make sure I was okay,” He pulls away and holds your face in his hands. “You’re my whole world and I should’ve held that in the front of my mind this whole time. I don’t think I can say sorry enough my love.” His sharp eyes now soft as he leans in to place a soft caring kiss on your lips.

“We’ll be okay,” you melt into his touch, letting him hold you close

#i did my best #sorry i love wriothesley breaking down fics #wriothesely x reader #wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley angst #genshin angst #angst with a happy ending #x gender neutral reader #wriothesely genshin #genshin x gender neutral reader

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

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hello!

could you possibly write gender neutral reader x remus lupin? the scenario is up to you!

Thanks for requesting lovely! And for being patient while I waited for an idea to come about haha <3

Remus Lupin x gn!reader ♡ 650 words

“Oh my god,” you laugh, hand covering your mouth. “Are you okay?”

Remus wipes his face with a sleeve, but his eyes remain glossy. “Fine.��

“Do you want me to handle the onions?”

“No, it’s alright.” Another tear blinks out of his eye. “Better me than you.”

You make a face but go back to your task, preparing the pot of spices Remus’ onions will be going into. “Onions don’t affect me as badly as that.” You grab chili pepper from the pantry, shaking it into a measuring cup. “I think your eyes are just sensitive and delicate.”

Remus chuckles. “I think my eyes are offended.”

“No, no.” You take his face in hand on your way past, kissing his salty cheek. “I love that you’re sensitive and delicate.”

“I thought we were only talking about my eyes. Now all of me is sensitive and delicate?”

You hum as you flit between your recipe and the pantry, half dancing to the tinny, trumpety music playing through your stereo. Louis Armstrong sings about a world where roses bloom, and you spin on the ball of your foot, sliding towards the stove.

“Darling.” Remus’ voice is amused, but it carries a warning.

You hum lightly.

“What is that sound I keep hearing?”

You stop halfway back to the pantry, socks skidding to a halt. “Nothing. I’m getting ingredients.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re walking to get them.”

“Mind your onions,” you tell him, smiling to yourself as you grab what you need from the pantry. You’re perhaps testing your boyfriend’s limits a tad when you decide to skate back to the counter, but it’s still a surprise when he turns around, catching the strings of your apron as you go by.

You grin at him, delighted, and Remus’ lips turn up at the corners.

“I’m not sensitive and delicate,” he says.

“No,” you allow. “More sensitive than delicate, I suppose.”

Remus lifts a brow, but you can tell he’s repressing a smile. He secretly loves when you get contrary for his entertainment.

“How did you manage to get something on your face already?” He touches a finger to your cheek. Licks it. “What is that, garlic powder?”

“No. That was hot, was what it was.”

It appears his smile is no longer repressible. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you assume I did something? The oil spat at me, and there was garlic powder in it.”

Remus’ brows pinch with genuine concern. “Oh. Sweetheart, doesn’t that hurt?”

You shake your head, though it did, a little. “Not really. I’m too accustomed to kitchen incidents.”

“I know.” He adjusts his grip on your apron, using it to draw you closer to him. “That’s why I got you this. You don’t need to run around to get things, you know. The stuff on the stove will be fine.”

You grin at him. “I’m just a very dedicated cook.”

“You’re absurd.”

“You love it.”

“I really do,” Remus replies, sincerity warm in his tone.

It catches you a bit off guard. You’d been in a mood for badinage, but now your boyfriend’s expression is all gentle adoration and your heart feels like it might be speeding up.

You stay still while he brings his mouth to yours, submerging you in a slow, sweet kiss. The air smells like spices and you can hear the oil beginning to pop again on the stove, but Remus kisses you like he has all night to do it.

He nudges your nose with his, putting a whisper of space between your lips. “We should switch, actually.”

Your brain is a haze of smells and tastes, but you find a knife being pressed into your hand and then Remus is positioning you in front of his cutting board and giving your hip a pat before he walks away.

“I need you in one place, or you’re going to break your neck.”

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smokey07 · 3 months ago

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Random headcanons for my Iliad AU. (Extend from this fic and this Tumblr post)

-Achilles is ambidextrous. Low key used to have a problem to tell which is left and which is right. He used his hair bang to tell which one.

-Nestor has embarrassed intel of everyone, and he has a network of gossipers from every camp. Until the event of Odyssey, the members are still unknown. His memory is also exceptional. Same with all of his sons.

-Odysseus loves salty dried fish.

-Once in a while, the commanders will cook for each other, just to show good will and diplomacy. (Nestor has list of who can actually cook edible food, and half of them are inedible).

-Agamemnon is actually a very good cook.

-Patroclus accidentally cooks puffer fish for the commanders once.

-Big Ajax still piggybacks Teucer once in a while.

-Teucer has a stomach of steel.

-Diomedes hits his head in the doorframe almost every day. Odysseus purposefully lowers the frame of his hut just to see it whenever they meet.

-Menelaus hates snakes with an unwavering passion.

-Spy missions happen more often than everyone realizes. Mostly decides via bets. In year 2 Hector and Aeneas met Diomedes in disguise, and they had a 3 hour talk about horses, while Odysseus ran off gathering intel.

-Achilles (out of natural ability/genes) and Odysseus (out of experience) can tell whenever fish migrates, and the entire camp will go fishing for a few days. This ability later translates to Neoptolemus and there is a “tuna incident” during the event of Little Iliad.

#the iliad #homer iliad #tagamemnon #diomedes #neoptolemus #pyrrhus #menelaus #odysseus #achilles #patroclus #agamemnon #nestor #headcanons #random thoughts #teucer #big ajax #iliad au

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violet-butterflies · 1 year ago

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❥︎ yandere! Merman

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ sexual harassment, kidnapping ( male yandere! oc x gn reader ) Click to see part 2 and a nsfw spin-off !

It was a dark and stormy night when you first met the merman. You were a lighthouse keeper on a tiny island that was not densely populated. The people that did live on the island were mostly fishermen that lead a peaceful and simple life. However, this night was not peaceful. The storm was roaring and the tides were filled with rage.

You simply went to town to buy a few things and maybe grab a drink with the friendly residents when the storm picked up, forcing you to retreat inside a cave near the sea. You thought it was dangerous since the cave could be flooded when the tides were high but the thunder and lightning seemed even more dangerous since you were walking around the beach with no trees in sight.

You expected to be bored inside a moist and salty-smelling cave but what happened was far from what you had expected.

Inside was a beautiful and ethereal merman who stared at you with wide and scared eyes. He had long white hair that was decorated with seaweed and pearls. He had nothing on, showing off his well-toned body. The most unbelievable part was the fact that instead of legs, there was a long and shimmering silver tail that was covered in scars and a fin that looked like it had a hole in it.

You awkwardly tried to approach it, trying to not scare the merman but failing since he started to thrash in the small pool of water in the cave.

"Shh, shh, shh... I'm not gonna hurt you," you said quietly and gently. The merman must've sensed that you meant no harm as he let you come closer.

The trust only grew when you spent the night, trying to help treat his injuries with the very minimal supplies that you had.

The next few weeks, you'd come and accompany the merman inside the cave. Not only that, you'd come and bring him food and books to show him. Your days mostly consisted of nothing before sunset when your job actually starts anyways so you had plenty of time to spare. Of course, you kept his existence a secret since you didn't want to bring any harm to your new friend.

It was odd though, his wounds have long healed but he kept lingering in the cave. You were on your wits end as you didn't know what he wanted and he can't speak English. You tried teaching him but, you weren't sure if it was because he was half fish, but he was not the smartest being.

You were about to stand and leave the cave to do your job before the merman snatched your hand and pulled you into the water with him. Startled, your body froze as the merman smiled when he looked at you. He hugged you and began to kiss your neck. Not only that, he began clawing at your clothes as he gave you a passionate kiss. You eventually snapped out of it before biting the merman's tongue hard to surprise him into letting you go. You quickly swam back to land and looked at the water with wide eyes. The merman looked at you with a look of surprise and desperation as he tried to go on land to take you back into his hands.

That obviously didn't work though since you ran out before he could even begin to get his whole body out of the water.

You didn't bother coming back to the cave since you felt scared and confused at the incident.

The merman basically forced himself on you but on the other hand, he was a mermaid that probably didn't know anything about human knowledge or consent. Still, though, you felt uncomfortable and it was probably better to leave him alone so he can go back into the ocean.

You didn't expect to ever see him again until you saw a familiar figure flopping on the beach just in front of your secluded lighthouse. In an instant, your eyes went wide as you rushed out to the merman before anyone sees him.

As soon as you came into the merman's line of sight, his eyes lights up and began trying to flop faster towards you.

"What are you doing here?! You can be here!"

"I... I sorryyyy" the merman attempted to say with a slow and dragged accent. You can't help but feel surprised since you didn't expect him to remember anything you tried to teach him.

You somehow got him back into the ocean and as you turned around to go back to shore, he pulled you down into the ocean with him. Deeper and deeper until the ocean covers your senses.

#tw: yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #lovesick #yandere merman #yandere merman x reader

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chris-prank · 4 months ago

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Hello Hello!!

Imagine this, Dr Seraph is late to a meeting!! Unlike him (for the most part) and everyone is looking for him. But, in reality, Dr Seraph is being teased n riding hero darling in a closet. Crying and trying not to moan too loud but he ends up being a lil too loud,, (GN hero darling <3)

(My previous ask was pounding into the bbg and im cooking a LOT more situations w him so, can i be pound town anon :3, if i cant, if possible, can I be 🌊 anon ? Tyty!!)

I am literally obsessed with this man.

CW: NSW, semi public sex

This is a fictional story for entertainment purposes, I do not promote public sex in places where it is not allowed/consented to

I changed some details in the situation because as imaginative as I can be, I can’t think of one hundred different ways to write about Dr. Seraph riding the reader's dick/strap 😅

To answer your question, you can totally be pound town anon! I found it very funny 😂

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

At the sound of footsteps and of voices shouting, just outside the closet, you immobilized the man bouncing on your cock.

“You said no one would come here today!”

“I sw-swear I… Unnf thought they had…” He posed to swallow the spit that had accumulated in his mouth, “O-Oh no, Nng… I think I-I was supposed to go a—at the meeting t-too…”

Vincent was so excited when you came by in the early hours of the morning, that he mixed up the dates of the assemblies on his calendar. Technically, it was your fault, because you were the one that made him a forgetful mess just by being in his vicinity. He still needed to resolve this situation though, he could blame you later. So in a panic, he placed both of his hands on your thighs, using you as support to lift himself up. He didn’t even think of the deplorable state he was in with his untied hair, crooked glasses and messed uniform.

“No, don't move! Someone might walk in!” You half whispered, half yelled as you pulled him down on your length again.

The mad scientist couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped his lips as your tip roughly hit his prostate. His whole body quivered, especially his cock, before he released all the tension that had been building inside him. His sperm shot forward, coating his legs and the door with salty liquid. With surprising reflex, you smacked your hand over his mouth as a desperate attempt to muffle the noise. In your rush, you accidentally pushed two of your fingers into his mouth. Vincent, who seemed unbothered despite everything happening, eagerly lapped at the digits.

You stopped breathing when the door of the laboratory open, they must have heard him. Meanwhile, Vincent kept whimpering and moaning happily, but they sounded more like strangled noises now. You couldn't see him in the position you were both in, but you knew he must have had a blissful look plastered on his face. You weren’t in the mood to tease him for cumming in a moment like this, being too stressed over the knowledge of being discovered by one of Fatalité’s henchmen. But you were going to let Dr. Seraph go easy. You were going to use this little incident to make him flustered in the future.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I hope you liked my take on your idea!

#answered #answered asks #my oc-vincent #my oc-dotor seraph #gn reader #yandere male #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #sub yandere #sub!yandere #yandere x darling #pathetic yandere #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere #tw yandere

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shxuga · 21 days ago

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Whispers of the Deep II | Twisted Wonderland

Jade × Floyd Leech x Female!Reader | Pirate AU | Part I

You shouldn't be so surprised by your captain’s and crewmates' reactions.

But damn it! It was more disappointing than you expected.

When you stumbled back onto the Rosehearts (which, honestly, had seen better days—the battle had left the poor ship riddled with holes, creaking painfully whenever someone stepped too hard on the bow or stern), you were greeted in a way only those who spend every hour of every day together can appreciate:

“You’re still alive?! Whatever, let’s celebrate!”

You needed a decent meal and lots of water to feel like yourself again after that month. But of course, Ace wouldn’t let you go without downing several rounds of beer in your honor first. Deuce was easily dragged along by the others, and Cater didn’t hesitate to join the impromptu party held that night at the bay.

It took you hours to track down your captain and Mr. Trey, ready to deliver a detailed report and reveal the truth behind your absence. Most of the crew gathered as witnesses, not quite drunk enough to miss the big revelation.

“Mermaids… No, mermen. I encountered mermen.” You revealed it with your usual seriousness, though your expression betrayed a flicker of determination.

A wave of drunken laughter greeted you after a moment of tense silence. Even Cater, the one responsible for spreading all those wild tales, couldn’t hold back his loud, stomach-clutching laughter as he pounded on the poor rookie seated next to him.

“Maybe you hallucinated? You know, that happens when you barely eat or drink at sea,” Trey said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You kept a blank expression as you watched the rest of the idiots who refused to stop laughing at you.

“She probably drank too much seawater!” Ace chirped between fits of laughter, setting off another round of shrieks and amused exclamations from the others.

You were tempted to use the knife you’d taken from Floyd after cutting off his scale and slice his tongue, but your captain intervened faster.

“In any case,” he said firmly, his tone silencing the laughter instantly as he shot everyone a warning look, “it’s good to see you’re well. For now, get some rest.”

And as much as you were tempted to press the issue and prove your words true, you were exhausted. You needed to sleep for at least two days. After that, you’d think about your next move and stop ignoring the tingling that surged through your body every time you glanced at the scale.

• • •

You recovered quickly. It was to be expected; despite your encounter with those two furious eels, they hadn’t done more damage than a couple of scratches on your side. However, there was an uncomfortable feeling inside you that, somehow, made it seem like it was slowly killing you.

As planned, two days after eating and sleeping well, you stormed into your captain’s cabin and presented your strongest evidence as a last resort:

The scale.

“You’re saying... this black stone is the scale of a merman?” he raised an eyebrow. You blinked like an owl, and Trey, behind you, struggled to stifle a laugh.

It was true your eye was damaged, you couldn’t deny that, but the bluish-green glow surrounding the scale every time you pulled it from your pocket was as obvious as the fact that the sky was blue and the sea salty. Just in case, you took the appendage between your fingers and held it close to your eye, stunned, ignoring how your captain’s confused look quickly turned to impatience. The lieutenant behind you stopped laughing to try and rescue you before it was too late.

“A black stone... you say?”

“Get out of here.”

You couldn’t argue. Trey kicked you out of the cabin before you could even notice your mistake.

Frankly, you were anxious. You would have preferred to bury this incident deep in your mind and continue with your chaotic life, treating it like a bad dream or something. But that damn scale was a reminder that it had all been real—very real. You tried every possible way to get rid of it: you threw it into the sea, buried it in the sand, tossed it into a bonfire, and even placed it on one of Cater’s plates, watching as he swallowed it.

But somehow, it always returned to the same spot.

By the third day, the anxiety had crawled into your insides. It slithered through them, like the skilled hand of a butcher slicing and cutting its prey. You couldn’t look at the sea without that nagging feeling that the pair would emerge from its depths, dragging you down, picking at your mind. You were tense, paranoid at the constant splashes and loud noises filling the ship now that it was under repair. According to Ace, the most experienced carpenter, it would take a whole month to restore the Rosehearts to its former glory.

You decided to distance yourself from the ship and the sea by heading to the village. You hadn’t stepped foot there since you reunited with your crewmates, but now that you were more alert, you noticed a lot of things: mermaids were a recurring topic on this coast. The fantasy of beautiful, half-fish beings was a common theme for anyone with a sea-bound lifestyle... but in this village, mermaids, mermen, and magic were deeply rooted in its very DNA. The cane and wooden houses were adorned with somewhat rudimentary illustrations of these creatures, there were many street vendors on the ground, inviting you to buy trinkets they claimed to have stolen from the very kingdom of Atlantis. Tragic songs, fantastic tales, the clinking of coins, and distant conversations made up the chaotic center of the village. Even in your illiteracy, you recognized how words like “mermaid,” “song,” and “sea” were the most recurring on every corner you passed.

You moved away from the bustle and crowds, with the persistent feeling that you wouldn’t find what you were looking for there. You didn’t know what possessed you to sneak through alleys you had never seen, feeling the wind, smelling of salt, whispering your name, and the scale in your pocket beating with its own pulse. Almost at the edge of the village, you came across a shop that looked... curious. On a small dock that the owner had probably built himself (because the structure didn’t look all that safe), stood a gloomy cabin, with moss, barnacles, and salt stains on the parts closest to the sea. There was a sign above a door made of threads, beads, and seashells, but due to your condition, you didn’t even try to understand what the twisted letters on it could mean.

“This is not a good idea...”

Even so, your feet made their way through the damp, creaking wood. The beads on the door tinkled, announcing your entrance. The smell of rancid fish filled your nostrils as you glanced around the place, keeping your guard up and your good eye scanning the area with suspicion. Moss and pieces of coral were scattered everywhere, the windows were sealed with dark tarps, and the only thing that had prevented you from tripping over the many shelves full of marine trash around you was the dim light of dark candles. The place looked just like the description of a witch or shaman’s house, with all those jars filled with eyes and viscera around you. And right in the center of it all, a large, dark, worn-out cauldron bubbled with a suspicious concoction. Out of curiosity, you shortened the distance between you and the cauldron, drawn by the things floating in the thick, bubbling liquid.

Ugh... it smells like the captain's food.

"It’s been a long time." A voice echoed from within the walls, startling you.

You turned towards the voice’s origin, but saw no one. You looked back at the cauldron, tense. Then, a figure appeared. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman, but there was one thing clear: they were beautiful. Their pale skin glowed with a sickly green hue from the soup in the cauldron, their eyes were crescent moons that seemed to contain the very ocean, with all its shades of blue dancing in their sockets, surrounded by thick lashes and laughter. Their hair was something you’d never seen before; it shone like silver, and even though they wore a dark, tattered tunic in a place that stank of fish, you were sure that beautiful, soft hair smelled incredible. As a final touch, those ethereal, flawless features had a pretty mole painted beneath their lip.

You stared, stunned, as the owner of the place sprinkled spices into the cauldron, causing a soft explosion to rise from it.

"Has it been a long time since you had visitors...?"

"It’s been a long time since someone with a scale visits my shop." He looked at you, unperturbed. "Please, have a seat."

His voice was rich and polite, but with a hint of authority. Before you could respond, a chair appeared behind you, and you fell into it.

A hand extended over the cauldron, cutting through the hazy veil that created amorphous shapes of bone-white. Feeling as though you might find the answers to questions you hadn’t even known you had, you obeyed. Taking the appendage from your pocket, you extended it towards them. He took it carefully, bringing it to his face with a solemn and analytical expression.

"Can you see it? When I tried to show it to someone else..."

"They told you it was a stone." You nodded slowly, confused.

"Only those who have formed a bond with a mermaid or triton can recognize a true scale."

"Bond? I didn’t do anything like that, I just defended myself!"

"Your blood and his touched the scale." He replied with boredom. "Whether you like it or not, your life and his are now one."

The chill still hadn’t left your bones when the stranger closed their fingers around the scale. He moved it slowly between his hands, as though examining a rare jewel, and his gaze seemed to shine brighter with each turn.

You couldn’t hold back the question that burned on your tongue.

"Who are you?"

The stranger looked up, and for the first time, they gave you something resembling a smile, though their lips barely curled.

"Azul" He answered in a soft, yet firm voice. His tone had the certainty of someone who knew his name meant far more than it seemed.

Azul. You couldn’t deny that the name suited him like a glove. It was a name as cold and distant as the depths of the sea, but it also had something hypnotic, almost comforting. As if you had heard it before, in a dream you couldn’t quite remember.

"How do you know all this?" You asked with suspicion, your good eye narrowing as you crossed your arms.

Azul didn’t answer right away. He just stared at you, with an unsettling patience. Then, slowly, he placed the scale on the edge of the cauldron, where it began to glow with a pale light that almost seemed to breathe.

"The seas speak." He murmured, not taking his eyes off you "And you, pirate, are now part of their stories."

A different chill ran down your spine. It felt as though an invisible layer that had protected you from the world had been stripped away, and Azul seemed to see it all. As if he knew every detail, even the ones you yourself could barely understand.

"How long has it been since your encounter with the triton?" He asked, his voice serene, but with a hint of urgency that wasn’t there before.

"Three days" You answered, feeling a pang of anxiety as you said it aloud.

Azul tensed for just a moment, but it was enough for you to notice. His eyes, those moons full of ocean, narrowed as he exhaled slowly, as if calculating something.

"Three days... " Azul repeated quietly, as if the number confirmed bad news. He stepped closer to you, so quietly that you barely heard his footsteps. "That’s more time than it should have been."

"What do you mean?" You inquired, trying not to sound as frightened as you felt.

"The bond you’ve created isn’t something you can ignore." He explained, his tone growing graver with every word. "You and the triton are now connected. Separated for too long, both of you... will die."

The words fell like stones in your stomach. You didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or just run out of that cabin, filled with salt and secrets.

"What kind of joke is this? I didn’t even want that bond!"

"That doesn't matter" Azul replied, looking at you with a mix of compassion and harshness ". What matters is that now, your fate is tied to theirs. If you don’t find them soon, both of you will begin to crumble from within."

The scale, still at the edge of the cauldron, seemed to glow more intensely, as if responding to their words. Your heart pounded, a restless drumbeat in the silence that followed. The creaking of the wood beneath your boots and the salty smell that filled the cabin became even more oppressive after what Azul had said. Death, binding, a shared fate with a creature you barely knew. It wasn’t what you had imagined when you tore that scale from the merman.

Azul took a step back, his eyes fixed on you, as if analyzing every thought crossing your mind.

"How... how do I find them?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"You must go to the farthest beach of the village" He said finally, his voice barely a murmur, blending with the wind outside the cabin ". At midnight. Bring offerings."

You frowned, crossing your arms. The memory of their laughter, the burning sensation of your lungs filling with the sea, and all the desperation you had to fight in your first encounter with those deadly creatures, brought bitterness to your chest.

"Offerings? For the merman who tried to kill me?" You retorted incredulously. "I don’t think he deserves anything."

Azul tilted his head as if considering your comment a mere distraction.

"They’re curious by nature. It wasn’t personal. " he said, shrugging.

The furrow between your brows deepened, you had the impulse to stand up but felt an invisible force holding you back.

"Curious?! No one kills out of curiosity!"

For a moment, something dark passed through Azul’s eyes, a flash of something deep and ancient. When he spoke again, his voice was louder, sharper. You could feel his hostility reverberating through every piece of wood in that cabin. For a brief moment, you saw a shadow full of writhing tentacles projected on his back.

"That’s exactly what humans do. With everything they don’t understand..."

The reproach in his words hit you like a cold wave. Your mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. It lingered in the air, along with that uncomfortable truth you didn’t have the courage to face. Azul, however, didn’t wait for you to find your response. He took another step closer, his presence filled with an unsettling calm.

"Bring trinkets" he suggested, as if nothing had happened ". Simple things. Utensils, maybe rings or necklaces. They don’t understand human value, but they’re fascinated by shiny things. And if that’s not enough, sing. They’re drawn to music."

You bit your lip, still uncertain, but something in his gaze made you relent. With an exasperated sigh, you nodded slowly.

"This is crazy..."

Azul didn’t respond, simply extending his hand toward you, returning the scale. But now it was tied to a fine, sturdy string, turning it into a necklace that seemed to pulse gently against your skin when you took it. The light from the scale glowed with a faint radiance, almost as if being in contact with you once more brought it back to life.

"Put it on." Azul ordered.

"What?" you asked, looking at the scale as if it were burning your fingers.

"Don’t even think about getting rid of it again" He warned, his tone darker than ever ". If you do, the consequences will be severe."

The threat was clear, and though you wanted to argue, you knew it wouldn’t make much sense. Slowly, you put the necklace on. The scale rested cold against your clavicle, but a strange sense of warmth flooded you moments later.

• • •

It was crazy.

Since you fell into the sea a month ago, nothing had gone the way you wanted. And now you were here, taking trinkets from the ship you called home, dragging a sack like a thief in the middle of the night. Carefully, you managed to reach the beach without waking anyone. It would be a tragedy if they caught you stealing... no matter how useless your loot seemed.

Armed only with an old oil lamp and your trusty knife at your side, you walked along the beach, dragging the sack. You walked for a while, until the Rosehearts, the port, and the village became a distant blur.

You followed Azul's words and made sure to place your offerings very close to where the sea licked your boots with each small wave. You didn't consider yourself someone with exquisite taste, but at least you had enough skill to arrange the cheap trinkets, cups, and cutlery in a way that looked somewhat aesthetic. As a final touch, you placed the hat you stole from Ace, as a kind of personal revenge after he kept mocking you about the whole mermaid thing.

And you waited.

You didn't indulge in the luxury of relaxing by sitting in the sand; your body remained alert. Even though Azul had said that your life and Floyd's were now linked, you didn’t trust that would save you from injury. You had already witnessed his strength and skill underwater, and you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Minutes passed, and your unease grew.

"Where the hell are they...?"

If Floyd’s life was as much at risk as yours, shouldn’t he be just as anxious to find you?

“And if that’s not enough, sing. They’re attracted to music.”

Azul’s words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You remembered how, that night, only after singing did the creatures deign to appear.

"Damn it..." you muttered, swallowing your pride before beginning to sing.

You weren’t a terrible singer, but you weren’t particularly good either. Besides, you were too tense, and your voice came out stiff and somewhat off-key. However, it improved a little when you decided to hum the parts of My Jolly Sailor Bold that you didn’t remember, following the rhythm of the gentle waves. Too focused on your task, your eyes fixed on the bright moon above your head, you didn’t notice the olive glow starting to emerge slowly in the distance. You cut yourself off abruptly, just a couple of verses from finishing the song, startled by the splashing of the sea, now dangerously close to you.

The splashing grew more insistent, as if the waves themselves were trying to warn you of what was approaching. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, remembering Azul’s words, but that didn’t stop your fingers from tightening around the knife handle at your side. The olive glow split into two figures, and before you could fully prepare yourself, they emerged: Jade and Floyd.

Water dripped from their scales, gleaming under the moonlight. Both of their eyes fixed on you, glowing as if they could read every thought you tried to keep hidden. Floyd smiled first, crawling through the wet sand with a grin that seemed more like a threat than a greeting. You stepped back, not even thinking about whether they might take it as an offense.

"Look, Jade... The human came back. And she even brought us gifts." Floyd made a careless gesture toward the trinkets scattered on the sand, but his eyes never stopped evaluating you.

Jade, however, remained silent, studying you with his characteristic air of calculated calm. His gaze, however, was sharper than any weapon you could wield.

"That seems to be the case, Floyd. Though I wonder... with what intentions?" His voice was soft but left no room for misinterpretation.

Your throat went dry. Despite the tension, you lifted your chin, refusing to show weakness. Azul had warned you that confidence would be crucial.

"I'm not here to fight. Or to rip off any more scales." You let the knife fall to the ground, as a gesture of goodwill. The dry sound it made on the sand was louder than you expected.

Floyd tilted his head, amused.

"Not even a little bit? You sure?" He gave a couple of flaps, bringing him dangerously close to where you stood. You could feel the weight of his presence, every muscle tense beneath the water.

"Floyd." Jade's warning was subtle but effective. His brother stepped back, though the grin never left his face.

You took a deep breath, feeling how, with their presence, something inside you loosened. Not entirely, but enough. As if that constant tension, that invisible knot that had followed you since that night at sea, started to dissolve. You hadn’t realized how heavy it had been until now. Azul was right, being away from him was killing you.

"I brought something... that I think you might like." You gestured toward the small improvised altar in front of them. Your voice didn’t tremble, and that was an achievement in itself, but the real relief was in your chest, less tight, as if, at least for now, you could allow yourself to breathe.

Floyd looked at the trinkets with an amused expression, while Jade, more contained, scanned each item carefully.

"And what's this supposed to be?" Floyd asked, a flash of amusement in his eyes. "A bribe?"

"An offering." You clarified, keeping your gaze fixed on both of them. You weren’t going to back down. "The least I could do to have this conversation without ripping each other's heads off."

The sound of the sea mixed with the crunch of your boots on the wet sand. You realized you no longer felt the same weight on your shoulders; dealing with them, although clearly dangerous, felt less exhausting than carrying all this uncertainty alone.

Jade let out a slight sigh, as if measuring your words.

"Why now? You could have hidden and waited for it all to blow over." His tone was soft, but the words were sharp. An implicit challenge.

"Because it’s not going to blow over..." You crossed your arms, feeling an unusual calm. It wasn’t resignation, but a kind of acceptance that allowed you to speak without haste, without the urgency that had accompanied you in the past weeks. "This bond, or whatever it is we have, isn’t going to disappear on its own. In fact, it could have killed us. Besides, I don’t think any of us wants to share our fate with someone we barely know."

The mocking spark in Floyd’s eyes faded, replaced by a shadow of seriousness.

"Share fate?" He repeated, his voice lower. "That sounds poetic."

"It sounds like a nightmare." You corrected him, without altering your tone. Your body was no longer on guard; the feeling of danger persisted, but the mental burden had lightened. "That’s why I’m here. I want to find a way to break it. Without killing anyone."

Jade and Floyd exchanged a look. It was as if they communicated in a silent language, one you couldn’t understand, but their conclusion was clear when Jade spoke.

"And what do you propose?"

"Each of us looks for a solution. I in the human world; you, in the sea." You paused, letting the sound of the waves fill the silence. "We’ll meet here every two days. We share what we find. No tricks, no games. Only results."

Floyd raised an eyebrow, his smile returning slowly.

"And if we find something before you?"

"Then we discuss it." You made an effort to keep your posture relaxed, even though your mind was already planning every possible scenario. "But again: no tricks."

"We need to set rules, then." Jade slightly tilted his head, evaluating you. "The first: no lying. If you do, the deal is off."

You nodded.

"The second: don’t bring anyone else. No humans, no unexpected allies." The weight of his words hit you. They knew about your crew; that feeling of the sea watching you wasn’t just a feeling... it was a truth.

You paused a second longer than necessary, but then nodded again.

"And the last..." Floyd took a step forward, lowering his tone, as if confiding a secret. "If we find a solution without you, don’t expect us to give it to you gently."

"I’m not here for pleasantries." Your words came out softer than you expected. It wasn’t defiance, but certainty. "I’m here to fix this. Period."

The wind blew, and for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like it was ripping something from you. The weight in your mind was real, but less oppressive, as if by sharing this burden with them, even temporarily, the path had become less lonely.

"Two days." Jade turned, disappearing into the water like an elegant shadow. Floyd followed, but stopped just before diving in, throwing you one last smile.

"Don’t be late, little shrimp."

And with one last splash, he was gone.

You stood there, looking at the horizon, breathing in the salty air. For the first time in a long time, the silence didn’t feel like a threat.

Tag list: @valentinaagarcia

#twisted wonderland #twst #ツイステ #ace trappola #deuce spade #jade leech #floyd leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto #pirate au #fanfic #ao3

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jmdbjk · 4 months ago

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I'm telling you, their life flashed before their eyes...

The staffs' I mean...

WARNING: CONTINUED POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT! I may or may not mention "Are You Sure?" scenes in detail and their outcomes during these long rambling messy posts beginning with the next sentence.

While on the kayaks, JK flipped over almost immediately. this sequence will be legendary in my mind:

All is well so far. Let's go kayaking! After being assisted by the Black Hall Outfitter staff, including Mr. Gino, they take off.

At this point, staff is walking away, ready to get on a boat to follow. Everything is cool. But something's not right. Why is the horizon at a 45 degree angle?

Staff has not noticed yet...

Jungkook's $1700 Balenciaga fancy pants are about to get soaked.

Jimin does not see what's going on behind him. Yet.

I can read his mind: "WTF?"

Staff finally notices and thoughts of living on the street start to flash through their heads...

Jimin can't believe what he's seeing...staff is sprinting into action...

He was first worried about his phone but one of the staff had it.

Staff thinking "I'm too old for this shit."

Drowned Rat Jungkook was not on my bingo card. I need a new bingo card.

Meanwhile, Jimin fearlessly paddles out to the middle of the river wearing his $70,000 Patek Philippe watch on his wrist... gasp.

Please take a moment to appreciate that gorgeous sunset in the background.

Seems some of Jimin's Slytherin has rubbed off on our little Ravenclaw (I know that's debatable but that's for another post).

Jimin was probably clenching so tight that flipping over would have been disaster for him.

Jungkook gets back in the kayak and is on his way... staff breathes a sigh of relief that they won't be jobless tomorrow.

Remember when he said this?

And this is how we know Jungkook is able to move past his own missteps.

But still desires some sort of collateral retribution from those more fortunate than he:

And this is the true and lasting take away from this little incident:

A moment that can be a beautiful memory.

And this is about the time this moment happened:

Now we know.

Jungkook was about to put on his royal blue Salty to the Core t-shirt. He wasn't taking off a shirt, he had already taken off his wet shirt and he was about to put on a dry one. That shirt in his hands is not black. And now we know Jimin was about to put on his turquoise one. And now we know what kind of fun they'd had up to that point. And now we know Jimin was struggling with a stomach bug when this pic was snapped. And now we know that Jeep parked next to them was theirs. And now we know they were about to head to the campsite. And now we know why this photo was special enough to Jimin that he posted it on his Instagram for Jungkook's birthday. They'd just had so much fun doing something they never get to do. Definitely a cherished memory for them. It was so endearing to me. I feel privileged knowing so much about this particular day. I hope they are doing all right today...

Things I cannot relate to and will never happen to me:

• Driving over a bridge not realizing Jimin and Jungkook are the ones on those kayaks down there on the river.

• Shopping at Dick's Sporting Goods and running into Jimin and Jungkook while they shop for mens size small shorts and Nike slides.

• Sitting at a bar at my neighborhood craft brewery while global stars next to me sample several pale ales and hard sodas.

Again, I will end it here as I've used up the posts image limit. I will be back with part three of Episode 1.

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #kookmin #are you sure?#salty to the core #i hope they are doing ok

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 10 months ago

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hey so i finally wrote more witch au!

enjoy, friends!! though it's significantly shorter than the first part

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,004 | rated: T

Mama thinks that Steve’s had a love spell on him this whole time.

“Since when?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know, my dear, maybe since before you were even born.”

“What?! How?! I thought you said there was no such thing as love spells!” He knows that’s not true.

“There are none that are worth the pain.” she repeats, trying to placate him.

“Yeah, well.” Steve huffs, dropping his hands to his hips and heaving a sigh.

“But there are some that are rumored to be true love spells, soulmate spells.” She continues on when she sees the look on his face. “Rumored, Steven, only ever rumors.”

“Okay, so what do the rumors have to say about them?”

“Every spell like that I’ve ever heard of of this nature is specific to each caster.”

“So I’ve had this spell on me for possibly my whole life, and there’s no way to know anything about it or about the caster.”

“...I’m sorry, honey.”

“Maybe there are clues in the words you have.” Robin cuts in, reaching for the notepad and sliding it in front of her.

Steve huffs, “I need to know the whole thing; there’s definitely words missing.”

“Should you eat more bread?” Robin asks, already sliding the previously abandoned plate of bread towards him.

“You shouldn’t overwhelm yourself.” Mama says, pushing the plate back. “We don’t know if there’s a trigger to the spell, or if you and the caster’s paths will just cross one day, maybe they don’t even know they cast it.”

Steve blinks at her. “So I have a true love and they might not even want me?”

“No!” Robin belts out immediately.

“No, of course not,” Mama says, continuing on. “The one known thing about any spell like this is that they only work on those who are receptive to it.”

“So some weirdo can’t put you under their spell?”

“Yes, exactly Robin; Steve, whatever this is, whoever this was, they love you with all that they are. And you them.”

“I don’t even know who it is! How can I?”

Mama doesn’t have an answer besides saying “Your soul must know them already.”; Their conversation was over soon after that.

Steve spends the next couple days silent and brooding. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s what, marked to love someone he doesn’t even know? How’s that fair?

It could be any random person on the street that thought he was hot, some weird old guy or a lovesick middle schooler..He only just turned 25 the day before the bread incident, but he’s saddled with this huge unknown that isn’t going to get better any time soon?

Okay, apparently not just some weirdo according to Mama, but still. Un-fucking fair all the same.

He’s also pissed that he can’t give anyone all the baked goods he’s made within that time. Each and every one of them ending up with a sour aftertaste.

“Damn witch bullshit…” he grumbles to himself, only half serious, as he scrapes another batch of sour sugar cookies into the trash.

He’s salty, okay? Pun intended. If he hadn’t ever learned the truth about the powers over food his grandmother (and now him too, apparently) has, he could’ve just excused the batch after batch being off on bad butter, or old flour.. Something other than his mood being what’s ruining his cookies.

That’s what he’d done every other time something he’s made tasted off, now he knows it was him the whole time.

Mama comes in then, he doesn’t have to look up to know the look she’s giving him.

Steve leaves the bowl of leftover dough on the counter, mumbles out a “I gotta go.”, then tromps out the back door and into the woods behind his grandparents’ home.

He supposes it’s good that they live just outside the city, really, having the trees to escape under like this has helped him before, and he’s hoping will help him now.

Meandering through the underbrush, he strolls along until he reaches the small clearing he’d claimed for himself when he was what, 8? 9? Doesn’t matter. It’s his spot to get away from anything he needs to.

He sits down against the big oak at the edge of the clearing and tips his head back toward the sun filtering down on him through a gap in the canopy above him. He breathes in the fresh air, focuses on the warmth hitting his face, and just exists there for a while, slipping in and out of a soft snooze.

Suddenly, he’s shocked out of his dozing by the sound of twigs snapping underfoot.

If it were coming from behind him, he’d expect it’d be Robin coming to find him here, but it’s not. It’s coming from ahead of him across the clearing.

Steve stands and presses back into the trunk of the tree, wondering if there’s bears in these woods when a person stumbles through the tree line.

The man is thin, about Steve’s age if he were to guess, and covered in dirt, his light wash overalls and his boots are caked in it. His hair is long, pulled half-back away from his face and full of bracken from the forest.

He also seems to be in a daze, staring with dark eyes at Steve with an unfathomable expression.

It shifts soon after, though, warming into a watery smile. “I’ve come home to you.” he says, clear as day, then collapses onto the grass.

“Oh, shit!” Steve rushes forward, kneeling down beside the man and quickly checking him over for injuries.

Steve presses his fingers to the man's pulse confirm it's still there (it is) and there don’t seem to be any bruises or breaks in his limbs, so he goes to his head, feeling quickly under the tangles in his hair for any blood, any knots.

Nothing. There’s nothing apparently outwardly wrong with him.

“Hey, hey, wake up! You gotta stay with me, man.” he says, shaking him lightly.

The other man’s head lolls to the side and his eyes open a crack, his lips quirking up into a smile. “M’love…”

“What is your name?” Steve insists in a slow, clear voice.

Instead of answering, the man raises his hand slowly to cup Steve’s cheek. “...v’wait’d so long..” he slurs, then goes limp again, his hand dropping to his chest.

“Oh no you don’t,” Steve gets his feet under him and gathers the man up into his arms in a bridal carry. His steps falter when he feels how light the man is in his arms, how much more thin he is than how he’d looked.

Steve adjusts his hold on him, making sure not to let his head hang backward over his forearm, and rushes back toward the house.

“Mama!” he shouts as soon as he clears the treeline into the yard.

She’s at the back sliding door as soon as he is. “Steve, honey, what—”

He pushes past her, hurrying to the spare room on the first floor with her on his heels. “I found him wandering the woods, I couldn’t just–I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Mama.”

She gestures him forward to the bed, “Put him there, on top the covers,”

He does, setting him down as if he’s made of glass.

As soon as the man is out of his arms, Mama takes his place. “Nothing seems broken, but he’s so light, he needs food, he needs water, should I call 911? I don’t even know his na—” he rambles on, not even realizing he’d started to pace until his grandma stops him in his tracks.

“Steve, listen to me.” she says, pulling at his wrists gently, removing his hands from his hair. “He will be fine. Now, go get a bowl of warm water and a washcloth and come straight back here.”

He nods dazedly, stumbling backward out the doorway and spinning to the kitchen.

Steve slides to a stop on the tile floor in front of the kitchen sink at the same time Robin gets home from her classes that day.

“I have a date!”

Wait, he needs the bowl first. He scrambles to the opposite counter for the large mixing bowl Mama uses for her damn bread and fishes it out with a clatter of everything that that had been in front of it on the shelf tumbling out to the floor.

“Steve?”

Should he put soap in it?

“Steve!”

No, Mama just said ‘warm water’, not ‘warm soapy water’. He nods to himself and turns on the tap, reaching under the sink next for a washcloth.

“Steven Otis Harrington.”

“Oh, hey Robin, you’re home.” The bowl’s almost full.

“Steve.” She spins him to face her, holding tightly to his shoulders.

He tries to twist back around futilely, “The bowl–”

“Steve. What. Is. Happening.”

He blinks at her a couple times. “Robin!” He pulls her to him in a tight hug. “Holy shit, you’re not gonna believe–”

“Steve, the bowl?”

“Shit,” It’s nearly full when he shuts off the tap, so he dumps a bit out and picks it up with both hands, “C’mon, he’s this way.”

“He? Who’s he?”

“Dunno, I found him in the woods.”

“Aw, Steve, you can’t just take in any ol’ stray dog you happen to find out in the wood—-” Robin cuts herself off as they get to the bedroom door. “Ohhkay…so..not a dog.”

“He looks to be dehydrated, but I don’t think he has any injuries.” Mama says in lieu of a greeting when they return. Steve sits down on the opposite edge of the bed that she is, and carefully passes over the bowl of water without looking at her.

The stranger immediately takes in his attention. His soft features, dark brows…Steve starts to pull the bits of brush out of the man’s hair, untangling twigs, leaves, and he can already see one of those pesky prickle things twisted into the hair next to his ear.

Mama sets the bowl on the sidetable, and gets to work immediately, wiping the dirt and grime from the man’s face and arms. “Robin dear, can you grab one of those sports drinks Pa loves so much outta the fridge? And a bottle of water.”

“Of course!” she says, darting back into the kitchen.

“We’ll need to get some food in him too,”

“We should make him scones.” Steve states apropos of nothing. “With chocolate chunks.”

“Maybe after he’s a bit better, sweetie.” Mama scoffs, wringing out the washcloth. “He needs healthy fats first, butter, oatmeal, avocado, things like that.”

“I can do that!” Steve says, jumping up excitedly. His former task forgotten, he rushes out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, nearly bowling Robin over in the process.

He gets to work on simple eggs and toast for their houseguest, avoiding Mama’s lucky bread in favor of his own store-bought stuff for now, he can make him his own later.

As he scrambles the eggs, he focuses everything in him on the stranger, on getting him better, making him healthy again. He’s not exactly quite sure how to do what Mama does, but the sour cookie dough says he’ll do it without thinking about it…kinda.

Whatever.

All he knows is that he’s telling the fuck outta these eggs to make his love better. Make him whole again.. Make him—

Wait..

Did he just refer to the random man laid up in the other room as his love?

Is…

The fugue state he’d been in since first laying eyes on the man crackles away just long enough for him to think.

What did he say before he collapsed? "I've come home to you."?

That..sounds right....why is that so famili—

Steve's eyes leave the pan of eggs in front of him and snap immediately to the scrap of paper he'd scrambled for a few nights ago.

Is he…?

And of course, as if the words weren't already plastered permanently onto his grey matter, there they are, plain as day.

tagging those that were interested on the last part!!! @mugloversonly @kittydeadbones @maybequizas @queenie-ofthe-void @newtstabber @angeldreamsoffanfic @eyesofshinigami @sunflower-trashbaby @perseus-notjackson @kaspurrcat @quinns-shadowy-arts

also, idk if this counts for it, but one of february's songs for @steddiesongfics is work song! which is what this fic is based on! 😊😊

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #witch!eddie #witch!steve #work song #hozier #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #st #robin buckley #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve has good grandparents #steveddie #eddeve #witch au #noelle writes

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eloise175 · 5 months ago

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Headcanon: love languages

How Callisto and Penelope are disgustingly in love and decide to make it everyone’s problem. Their specialty is being smitten with each other no matter how much time has passed since they got together—sometimes it’s too much for the eyes of other people, cavity-inducing sight right there from too much sweetness.

➺ Physical touch:

Simply put, it’s reassuring. They always reach for the other, both as a sense of security and comfort. Hugs are very frequent and last for a good couple of minutes because neither of them wants to separate first, or at all.

When Callisto is stressed or is about to lose his temper, Penelope places a hand on his shoulder or seeks his own out. It helps him calm down and gather his thoughts.

Kisses are the best, Callisto can never get enough, and Penelope gets all warm and fuzzy inside when he gives her all the little soft kisses.

Callisto always has his arm wrapped around Penelope or holds her hand, it makes him feel good—it improves his day too (the palace staff will forever be grateful).

He’s very clingy, so much so that even during summer when it’s very hot, Callisto gathers her all to him even when she tells him that it’s too hot for cuddles, he doesn’t care that they’re both actively sweating waterfalls during nighttime as well. Penelope tries to roll away but ultimately fails to escape her husband’s clinginess.

➺ Words of affirmation:

Between the two of them, Callisto is the most vocal when it comes to expressing his affection through words, however with time Penelope learns too.

A reoccurring thing between them is that they tell each other the first thing that goes through their head, keywords bluntness and honesty.

Penelope could be staring at Callisto for a good five minutes and when he inquires about it, she just blurts out “you’re beautiful” or “I love you” which inevitably stuns him momentarily; it’s the same the other way around only that Penelope sees it coming since he does it pretty often, but inevitably she still gets all flustered.

➺ Acts of service:

This speaks for itself. Callisto would do anything for her and although he doesn’t expect anything back from her, Penny would still do them and he gets very happy when that happens.

The most frequent instance is him carrying her around despite her protesting against it. Penelope won’t admit it out loud but she enjoys being carried like that. Callisto knows and doesn’t miss any chance to tease her for it.

Massages could be classified as another act of service, especially after a long day. When he’s tired, Penny helps him take baths and is the one that washes his hair, he enjoys it a lot because her touch is relaxing.

Meanwhile, Callisto just wants to take care of his wife and often shoos the maids away because of it. It leads to him learning Penelope’s routine for skincare and whatnot. Later on to her insistence, they both end up having facem masks together to his amusement.

➺ Gift giving:

Having held off from splurging for most of his life, finally Callisto has something that he’d gladly spend his money on—or rather someone.

To him, Penelope deserves nothing but the best so he doesn’t think twice about getting her anything and everything she wants.

He tends to buy every little thing that reminds him of her, later offering them to Penelope as gifts—even if it lands him a scolding. She thinks he goes too overboard, but Callisto just wants to see her happy and shower her with riches and pretty things like her.

When they go out, if her eyes happen to linger on an object for longer than 5 seconds, it’s as good as sold in his books and you best believe he will get it for her, despite her protests.

Years later, Penelope is still salty over that handkerchief incident (even if she won’t ever admit it), so she embroiders plenty of handkerchiefs for him, and Callisto is always carrying at least one with him, proudly so. The others end up in the drawers of his office desk or easily reachable spots in places he spends the most time, so he never has to go without one.

Penelope also has some jewelry pieces made, thanks to her mines and assets which she turns into a business; due to this, Callisto is always seen wearing a brooch, cufflinks and earrings that are quite unique, expensive and of high quality. He’s very proud of those and likes to show off the gifts his wife got him, he can often be found bragging about said gifts in front of his vassals and soldiers—anyone really, even during events.

No one is spared from the Emperor’s endless gushing and words of adulation for his Empress and her thoughtfulness.

#Callisto Regulus loves Penelope Eckhart #Penelope Eckhart loves Callisto Regulus #let’s make those tags shall we #proud hubby callisto #callisto is a goofball #and very in love with his wife #penelope loves her dorky husband #penelope eckart x callisto regulus #penelope eckhart #penelope eckart #callisto regulus #villains are destined to die #vadd #(non-official tags):#death is the only ending for a villainess #death is the only ending for the villainess #vadd headcanon #el’s headcanons #el’s thoughts

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