#in the end its up to the reader i wanted to be subjective a d explore different scenarios

[ambersky0319]

I've never actively tried making a story a certain amount of words and I'm doing it for 15 stories for an English project suddenly and mad respect to people who do that regularly could not be me, I'm lucky if I set a minimum won't count goal for something and reach that

[wearysparrows]

The D Word

ao3/masterlist

Summary: At Tara's suggestion, you try something different on the phone with Sylus. Things quickly escalate.

CW(18+): daddy kink, phone sex (kind of), masturbation, dirty talk, fem (afab) reader, female terms of endearment are used, cringe pet names, porn with feelings, reader is MC, sylus is not a booktok daddy dom, he's so much more than that to me 3.4k

“Why don’t you just try it? He seems to dote on you so much already. It doesn’t seem like a stretch.”

Tara, your best friend and semi-frequent interloper into your personal relationships, was attempting to convince you to get under Sylus’s skin. “Skye,” as she knew him. Your boyfriend in every sense of the word – except that you had never made it official. Tara was especially privy to this fact – it had become nearly impossible to hide all of the time you spent with Sylus from her, nevermind the constant influx of gifts and attention from him. He had never broached the subject of putting a name on your current relationship, and you had been too nervous to ask for fear of scaring him off, or being rejected. As things stood now, you were soaking up what he was willing to give you – which, to be fair, was quite a bit. 

Tara wasn’t wrong, though. Despite your lack of a label, you had begun to rely on Sylus in a way that differed from anyone else in your life. While your relationship had started on a purely professional level, it had quickly evolved into something much more personal. As it stood now, you even relied on him for assistance with mundane tasks – like helping you build furniture, or heavy lifting that you could definitely do but didn’t want to if there was a big, strong Sylus around instead. He came at your beck and call without much complaint, and often initiated spending time with you on his own accord.

Still, there was one aspect that was missing. Despite your continually growing affection and reliance on him, you and Sylus had never been truly intimate with each other. You had definitely sexted him more than a few times – and he had happily reciprocated. You weren’t an idiot, either. You were certain you had felt him hard against you more times than you could count while settling down to a movie, or while lazing around in bed. This was another thing that he had never broached of his own volition – which made you reluctant to try Tara’s line of encouragement to tease him. You weren’t sure if he was being respectful, just wasn’t that into you, or if it was something else entirely.

“I don’t know, Tara. What if he like, gets grossed out and completely drops me?”

Tara, who was sitting across from you on the couch in your apartment, wrapped up like a burrito with a cup of tea in her hands, raised a quizzical eyebrow in your general direction.

“Are you kidding me? The man looks at you like he’s liable to eat you at any moment. You could probably ask him to take the moon down for you, and he’d find a way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her turn of phrase. Her encouragement was wearing away at your reservations. If he hated it, maybe he’d just brush it off and pretend it never happened. Best case scenario, you figured. You didn’t even want to consider the worst case scenario. You sighed, relenting to her devious plans for your situationship. She had yet to steer you wrong when you had come to her for advice in the Sylus department.

“Fine, fine. I’ll try it. If it all comes crashing down, I’m blaming you, though.”

Tara grinned, looking extremely pleased with herself. She sipped her tea innocuously, hiding her smile behind the drink as if you hadn’t already seen its evil intent.

“You have to let me know how it goes.”

This was how you had ended up pacing around your house that night, unable to bear executing your plan from the safety of your bed. You had too much nervous energy, even after completing your nighttime routine. It was late – around 11PM. Just around the time you knew that Sylus had finally begun to start his “day.” You had locked and unlocked your phone to send him a text more times than you could count, now. You stared at the irritatingly blank message box under Sylus’s contact. It really wasn’t helpful that the last set of messages between you two was about something incredibly innocuous – something about going to the shooting range to blow off some steam. The friendly nature of the messages did nothing to bolster your confidence on this matter. You made your way to the couch, finally forcing yourself to stop screwing around. You put a blanket over your bare legs, which had taken on a bit of a chill from the night air in the apartment. You opened the message thread between you and Sylus. You took a breath. Your heart thudded around, and threatened to take up residence next to your intestines as you typed out a message.

Me:

Hi. Whatcha doing?

11:03PM

You eyeballed your own text. Innocent enough. You weren’t sure if Sylus would even respond – sometimes the two of you were both so busy that you went days without contact. It wasn’t ideal, but to be expected considering the nature of your lives. You, a Deepspace Hunter, and him, the enigmatic leader of Onychinus. Despite earlier anxieties, you knew now that Sylus would always get back to you eventually. You couldn’t help your surprise, though, when his response came within the same minute of your original message.

Sylus:

In a meeting. grueling. Everything OK?

11:03PM

You stared at his response. This was the one thing that was difficult about texting Sylus – he wasn’t one for casual conversation over text, unless it was about making plans, or very brief. He seemed to be under the assumption that you texting him, especially at night, was because you needed something from him. He technically wasn’t wrong in this case, you mused, though you weren’t sure it was a need he was even willing to fulfill. Or cared to. You worried your lip between your teeth, trying not to doubt yourself now. Tara’s words about Sylus wanting to eat you came back into your mind, and you stifled a laugh in the silence of your empty apartment. You imagined him sitting in on his meeting, bored out of his mind. The image made you want to see him all the more.

Me:

Everything’s fine. Couldn’t sleep and I was just thinking about you

11:04PM

You had to force yourself to hit send, squeezing your eyes shut as you did so. It wasn’t as if you had never told Sylus something like this before (though not enormously often), but your trepidation about your plans was combined with the fact that he was currently in a meeting, and therefore liable to ignore your texts entirely (for good reason). Being rejected in an indirect way was somehow worse than if he had just outright said he wasn’t interested. Despite your reservations, the reply came quickly.

Sylus:

Funny, I was thinking about you too. want to tell me exactly what it is you’ve been thinking about me?

11:04PM

You felt your face heat up into a hot crimson at his response. It wasn’t overt at all – and you couldn’t even be quite sure that he had meant it like that . It was sometimes impossible to tell with Sylus, especially over text. He often said things that could be taken many ways. You were certain that you could be inconveniencing him in whatever extremely-serious-Sylus-business meeting he was engaged with. But it was too late to back out now. Your mind was made up. You took a breath, steadying yourself.

Me:

Was thinking about what we’d do if you were here. It’s pretty cold tonight.

11:04PM

You opened your camera app. The room was somewhat dark, so your form was a bit obscured, but just visible enough in the low light to take a photo. You turned over to lay on your stomach, and kicked your feet leisurely into the air. You were wearing one of Sylus’s big sweaters, which he had loaned out to you in the name of the recently dropping temperatures. Other than that, you had elected only to wear your panties underneath it. You snapped a picture, not including your face. You squinted at it. It showed the slope of your back, and the swell of your ass, just barely peeking out to show your panties from under his sweater. The bare soles of your feet and the backs of your bare legs were visible, too. You quickly righted yourself onto your back, pulling the blanket back over your form. You attached the photo to the message and hit send before you could change your mind. You buried your face in the blanket. You weren’t sure about the logistics of him opening the photo in his meeting – but considering it was Sylus, the leader of Onychinus, Relentless Conqueror ,  you doubted it was that much of a problem. 

There was a space of about two minutes before Sylus’s reply, and you had already begun to worry that you had somehow managed to push it too far this time. Maybe he just wasn’t that into you. But the reply came just as you had begun debating apologizing for overstepping.

Sylus:

Do you think it’s fun to get me all riled up while there’s other men in the room? If I was there, I’d already have two fingers inside of you.

11:06PM

Attached was a photo of Sylus from the waist down. He was seated with his legs open in a relaxed position. You recognized the black slacks he was wearing – some of his favorites. You even recognized his shoes. The carpet you didn’t recognize. Clearly in an establishment belonging to someone else. But none of this was important, because you could clearly see the outline of his erection straining against his pants. And it was big . You knew Sylus was big – of course you did. There was never any doubt. You had felt it before. You tried to imagine what it would feel like to take him all in when he was fully aroused. You were already feeling slick between your thighs. He had casually taken a photo of his hardon during a meeting. He was hard because of you.

Shit.

You had never even gone so far as to feel each other up (short of fleeting touches), but he was already talking about fingering you over text after just one slightly risque photo. You would have to unpack that another time. Right now, there were more pressing matters. You figured now was as good a time as any to try it out – Tara’s idea. Your mouth suddenly felt very dry. You forced your fingers to swipe across the keyboard. Your anxiety and arousal had combined into a feeling like that of nearly being outside of your body as you typed, and you hardly recognized your own words on the screen before you sent them.

Me:

I’d rather have your cock inside me, daddy

11:06PM

You flung your phone to the end of the couch, where it landed with a soft thud . You could hardly send the message, let alone read it back more than once. You put your face in your hands, wondering if you had just screwed up all of the time you had spent cultivating your current relationship – whatever it was – with Sylus. While you had nothing for contempt for him when you had first encountered him, he had slowly wormed his way into your mind until he began to consume your every waking thought. You were always wondering where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking. If he was thinking about you. If he was wondering about you, too.

There was a lull of time, and Sylus still hadn’t responded. One minute passed, then two, then three, then four. You felt yourself begin to sweat with the anxiety of it, and kicked the blanket from your body once again. Maybe you really had fucked up. You reached for your phone, intending to check the time. As soon as you touched it, it began to ring. You nearly dropped it again in your shock, but managed to right it in your hands. It was Sylus calling. Your palms were slick with sweat.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 His name and contact photo stared you squarely in the face from your phone screen. You gawked at it while it rang. You had never expected him to call you in response to your teasing – nevermind the fact that he had been in a meeting only minutes prior. Maybe he even intended to admonish you. Your heart had begun to beat erratically. In your anxiety and excitement, you even had begun to feel a bit nauseous. You took a great intake of breath, steadying yourself. You hit the answer button with a shaky thumb.

“Hello?” You answered. Your voice sounded much calmer than you felt. As if you hadn’t just been asking your not-boyfriend to put his dick inside you over text. As if you hadn’t just referred to him as daddy. Your knee bounced up and down involuntarily, your nervous energy having nowhere else to direct itself. It felt like ages before he responded on the other end of the line.

“Tell me what you just told me over text.” 

You felt your ears grow even hotter at his command. His tone was raspy and hushed. He sounded needy . You had never heard his voice like this before. The sound of it only made you feel even more aroused than you already were, combined with his commanding timbre. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought he was trying not to be discovered, somewhere. Had he stepped out of the meeting just to call you for this? You twisted your thighs together, squirming.

The thought of following through with his command flooded you with even more embarrassment than you already felt. Over text was one thing, but over the phone? You had hardly had the guts to send it, let alone say it out loud. Your mouth suddenly felt even more dry. Your tongue flicked out in an attempt to wet your lips, with little success.

“I..”

You attempted to start, but you lost steam. You took a shaky breath. Sylus was quiet on the other end of the line. Clearly waiting for you to continue. It was if you could feel his gaze on you, without even being with you here. If Sylus wanted something, he wouldn’t stop until he got it. You began again.

“I said I…that I’d rather have your cock inside me, daddy.” You couldn’t help but emphasize the last word, just a little. He seemed like he was into it, after all. Your own voice sounded foreign to your ears. 

“Fuck. ” Came the growl of a response. It was rare to hear Sylus curse – and something about you eliciting that response from him was incredibly sexy. You felt your core pulse in response to just one word from him. You heard the sound of metal jingling –  what you thought sounded like him struggling with his belt. 

Did he go to the bathroom or something to get himself off on the phone with you?

You swallowed dryly. Sylus’s voice came to you again. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, princess. My pretty girl. If I was there right now, I’d be fucking you so hard that you’d forget your own name.” 

You heard fabric rustling, and the sound of wet skin on skin. He was definitely jerking off to this. He had referred to you as his . You desperately resisted the urge to get yourself off at the same time – you wanted to enjoy him losing his composure over you, just this once. It was rare for him to lose face in front of you – let alone show you a side of him like this. You pressed your ear against the speaker harder, trying to catch more of his noises. He continued speaking. 

“And you’re wearing my shirt. I just know you’d feel so fucking tight around my cock. I’ve wanted to take you for so long, baby. But I’ve held back. Fuck .”

Your panties were completely soaked, now. You opted to remove them entirely, discarding them thoughtlessly over the edge of the couch, exposing yourself to the cool night air. You thought about Sylus touching himself to the thought of you. To the thought of being inside of you. How he might feel inside of you. Stretching you to your very limits. You suddenly felt very, very empty without him filling you up.

“You can fuck me the next time you come over. I want you to. Really badly.” You blurted, voice barely above a whisper. It sounded incredibly loud to you in the stillness of your apartment. It hadn’t been at all what you intended to say – despite the insanity of the situation, you were worried offering yourself up to him so soon would somehow still put him off of it. But it was what you wanted. You couldn’t help but be honest when he was like this.

“Shi–iit,” He breathed.

“I’m gonna fill you up, sweetheart. And you’re gonna take all of my cum inside, do you understand? You’re going to be so good and take it all for me.” 

You could tell he was already getting close. The wet, lewd sound on the other end of the line had increased its tempo, and he was breathing so hard you swore you could almost feel his hot breath in your ear as if he were already on top of you, inside of you. You clenched around nothing for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. You had no idea you could want someone this much.

“You can cum inside me, daddy. I’ll take it all, okay? As...as many times as you want.” You had begun to feel more confident now, emboldened by Sylus’s response to your words. You didn’t know you could have such a strong effect on him. Despite your nervousness, you began to feel the beginnings of anticipation for when he would actually fuck you.

“Fuck. Fu-uuck . Gonna cum, baby. Holy shit. ” His orgasm was nearly silent except for his words and the intensity of his breath. You wondered if he was always quiet, or if it was just because he was getting off to the sound of your voice in a public place that he shouldn’t be. You squirmed, your own unresolved arousal now leaking onto your thighs. You wiped at it half heartedly. You could hear Sylus panting, trying to collect himself. Righting his pants and belt after cleaning himself off quickly. You listened intently to these sounds. He had cum so quickly to you that you almost couldn’t believe what had just happened.

His voice came to you again, still sounding a bit wrecked.

“If I could, I’d come there right now and take care of you. I’m going to come and see you tomorrow. As soon as I can. Wait for me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his insistence. He was trying to reassure you, you realized. He wouldn’t just disappear back into his world like nothing had just happened between you. Your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird that longed to go to him from its cage. 

“Okay. I’ll be waiting. Sorry for interrupting your meeting.” Not that you were actually sorry. Still, it was only right to apologize.

Sylus snorted in response.

“You’re much more important than these fools. But I do have to get back to them eventually, unfortunately. I’m sure they’re wondering where I’ve gone. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.” 

Butterflies flitted about in your stomach. Sylus referring to your importance in his life always made your insides twist up in all different directions. You wanted to be filled up with him in more ways than one.

“Okay. Talk to you soon. Bye, Sylus.” 

“Goodnight, little dove.”

You hung up the line. The air suddenly felt very empty without the sound of Sylus panting in your ear, and the cold began to creep back into your bones. Despite him never having actually been with you physically during the call, he had certainly managed to warm you up. You padded quickly back into your bedroom and buried yourself into the plush blankets of your bed. You thought about getting off – but Sylus’s words came to you.

Wait for me.

You knew that Sylus was a man of his word. He had never fallen back on a promise to you, and you knew tomorrow would be no different. It would be better if you held off. The anticipation made it that much more intense. You elected to finally find your way to sleep, your last thoughts conjuring images of all the ways Sylus would find to bend and fold you over for his own pleasure.

[solxamber]

ive been relistening to the villains' songs like be prepared and poor unfortunate souls and it got me wondering if i could request for the overblotted boy reacting to a reader, whos usually pretty docile and a textbook example of a "good person", singing their respective villains' songs. Except that reader's extremely expressive through their voice and movements. so much so that they look and sound so villainous that its a complete 180 from their usual self. maybe reader was just vibing to themselves and their inner theater nerd came out and was just having the time of their life and the boys just so happen to be around and heard them. how would they react? :D

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil reacting to reader singing their Villain songs

a/n; i know overblot gang was requested but evil queen, maleficent and hades don't have villain songs so i hope this is fine!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle wasn’t sure what drew him to the courtyard that afternoon. Perhaps it was the faint melody drifting through the air, or the infectious energy radiating from the sound. But when he turned the corner, what he saw rooted him to the spot.

There you were, standing on one of the stone benches with an invisible spotlight illuminating your every move. Your normally calm, good-natured demeanor was gone, replaced by a commanding presence that demanded attention.

You sang “Who’s been painting my roses red?” with a voice that was equal parts theatrical and menacing. Your gestures were grand, your expression shifting effortlessly between outrage and cruel amusement as if you were a monarch addressing trembling subjects. It was captivating. It was terrifying. It was… perfect.

Riddle’s breath hitched as he watched you embody the very spirit of the Queen of Hearts. The fervor in your movements, the intensity in your voice—it was as though you had stepped out of one of his cherished childhood storybooks. You pointed an accusatory finger at a nonexistent offender, your voice dripping with venom as you declared, “Off with their heads!”

His heart pounded against his ribcage. Was this the same person who handed out snacks to dormmates without asking for anything in return? Who was always ready with a kind word, a helping hand, or a soft laugh?

And yet… this was you too. A side of you he’d never seen. Bold, commanding, unyielding.

Riddle swallowed hard, feeling heat creep up his neck. It was almost unfair how effortlessly you seemed to channel the Queen of Hearts he revered. How could you embody such power and poise when you were usually so… so… docile? His admiration mixed with a bewildering flush of pride.

You didn’t notice him, completely immersed in your impromptu performance. With a dramatic flourish, you ended the song, holding an invisible scepter aloft as if ruling over a kingdom of trembling subjects.

The silence that followed was deafening.

It was only then that you spotted him, his wide eyes and flushed face a dead giveaway that he’d seen the entire thing. Your mouth fell open, and you scrambled off the bench, your cheeks burning as you sputtered, “Riddle! I-I didn’t see you there!”

His lips moved as though he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. Finally, after a long moment, he managed, “That… was remarkable.”

“Remarkable?” you repeated, unsure if that was a compliment or a polite way of saying What on earth was that?

Riddle stepped closer, his expression torn between awe and embarrassment. “You—you truly embodied the spirit of the Queen of Hearts. Your intensity, your conviction…” He paused, his voice softening. “It was admirable. Inspiring, even.”

You blinked, stunned. “I was just messing around… You really think so?”

His cheeks burned brighter as he averted his gaze. “It’s… rare to see someone honor her so… naturally. I admire your passion. It’s…” He hesitated before meeting your eyes. “...beautiful.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you both stood in awkward silence, the weight of his words settling between you. Then, with a nervous laugh, you scratched the back of your head. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the show, Your Honor.”

Riddle’s lips twitched, almost into a smile. “I did.” Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “I always do.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona wasn’t the type to eavesdrop. Not intentionally, anyway. But when he heard a low, familiar melody echoing from one of the quiet courtyards, his ears twitched involuntarily. Curiosity got the better of him, and he sauntered toward the sound.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

There you were, pacing back and forth on the edge of a stone fountain like a monarch surveying their pride. Your voice rang out—low, powerful, dripping with calculated malice—as you sang “Be prepared!” You punctuated the words with dramatic gestures, your arms sweeping through the air as if commanding an invisible army.

Leona’s tail flicked, his sharp green eyes narrowing. Where was the soft-spoken person he knew? The one who gave others the benefit of the doubt even when they didn’t deserve it? The one who, annoyingly, always had a kind smile ready for anyone in need?

No, this was someone else entirely. Someone confident. Dangerous. Mesmerizing.

“Meticulous planning, tenacity spanning, decades of denial…” Your voice grew stronger with each line, rising and falling in time with your movements. The sneer on your lips, the glint in your eyes—it was uncanny. You weren’t just singing the King of Beasts’ song. You were the King of Beasts.

Leona’s chest tightened as he watched you embody everything he admired about his ancestor. The cunning, the ambition, the audacity to demand a throne that should have been his by right. He knew those feelings well, knew the fire that came with them. And yet, seeing you channel them so effortlessly… it struck a chord he hadn’t expected.

And damn, if you didn’t look good doing it.

You reached the final verse, throwing your arms wide with a triumphant grin. “Yes, our teeth and ambitions are bared—be prepared!” Your voice echoed in the empty courtyard, the last note lingering in the air as you struck a dramatic pose.

Silence followed. Then—

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Herbivore.”

You jumped, nearly toppling into the fountain. “Leona!” you yelped, whipping around to see him leaning against a pillar, arms crossed and an infuriating smirk on his face.

“How long were you standing there?” you demanded, your cheeks heating up.

“Long enough.” He pushed off the pillar and strolled toward you, his gaze sharp and appraising. “You’ve been holding out on me, huh? All this time, you’ve been playin’ the meek little herbivore act, and now I catch you out here auditioning for the role of a lifetime.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I was just goofing around! It’s not like—ugh, I can’t believe you saw that.”

He chuckled, low and deep. “Relax. I’m not complainin’. You nailed it, by the way. The whole ambition thing? Kinda suits you.”

You peeked at him from between your fingers, unsure if he was teasing or being sincere. “You’re not… weirded out?”

“Why would I be?” He tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “You were channeling the King of Beasts, weren’t you? ‘Course you looked good doin’ it.”

His words made your heart skip, but before you could respond, he leaned in closer, his green eyes glinting. “Still, you’ve got guts pullin’ that off. You keep surprising me, Herbivore. I’ll give you that.”

Your face felt like it was on fire, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

He straightened, hands sliding into his pockets as he turned to leave. “Don’t stop on my account. You wanna belt out another song, go for it. Maybe I’ll even join in next time.”

And with that, he walked away, his tail swaying lazily behind him.

You stared after him, your heart pounding for reasons you didn’t quite understand. “Join in?” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

But the thought of Leona singing Be Prepared with you? You couldn’t help but smile.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul always prided himself on keeping a calm, collected demeanor. It was part of the image he'd cultivated—smooth, sophisticated, and utterly unflappable. But today? Today, he felt his composure teetering on a knife’s edge.

He hadn’t meant to stumble across you in an empty classroom, where you apparently thought you were alone. The soft hum of music drew his attention as he passed by, and curiosity had compelled him to take a peek.

And there you were.

The typically sweet, mild-mannered person he knew had vanished, replaced by someone utterly commanding. You were perched on the edge of a table, one hand gesturing grandly as your voice rang out:

"Poor unfortunate souls, in pain, in need!"

Azul froze, the words sending a shiver down his spine. Your tone was rich, dripping with confidence, and paired with the way you moved—calculated, fluid, like every motion had a purpose—you were magnetic. You swept your arm out with a flourish, mimicking the sea witch herself, your voice curling around each word with wicked glee.

"This one longing to be thinner, that one wants to get the girl..."

Azul’s breath caught. You weren’t just singing the song. You were the song. The sly glances, the theatrical gestures, the sharp, knowing smile—you were embodying the Sea Witch in a way that made his heart race.

How had he never seen this side of you before?

"And do I help them? Yes, indeed!"

Your voice climbed, bold and commanding, and Azul’s mind raced. The way you seemed to channel the Sea Witch—the cunning, the control, the sheer power—it was breathtaking. You reminded him of everything he admired about the Sea Witch. The very traits that he also had.

But seeing you like this? It felt... dangerous.

"Now it’s happened once or twice, someone couldn’t pay the price...”

You leaned forward, your expression devious, and Azul’s chest tightened. He suddenly felt like one of those poor, unfortunate souls, utterly captivated and completely at your mercy.

The song ended with a flourish, and you threw your arms out, basking in your imaginary spotlight.

That’s when you noticed him.

“Azul?!” you yelped, nearly toppling off the table. “What are you doing here?”

He took a moment to collect himself, smoothing his expression into something neutral—though the faint pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him. “I was just passing by,” he said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Your face turned red as you scrambled to stand. “Oh, I was just... uh, messing around! It’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” His voice came out sharper than he intended. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That performance was incredible.”

You blinked, startled. “You think so?”

“Without a doubt.” His voice softened, but his gaze remained intense. “You… embodied the role perfectly. The confidence, the cunning—you channeled it all flawlessly.”

You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thanks, but I was just having fun. I didn’t think anyone would actually see me.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider,” he said, his tone almost too casual. “If you ever decide to pursue a career in theater, you’d be quite formidable.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You really mean that?”

Azul’s smile was small but genuine. “Absolutely. Though, if I may… I’d suggest not showing that side of yourself to just anyone.”

“Why not?” you asked, puzzled.

He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Because power like that can be… intoxicating. And there are those who might exploit it.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. The way he looked at you—like you were a puzzle he desperately wanted to solve—made your heart skip.

Azul cleared his throat again, stepping back as if realizing how close he’d gotten. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to your… ‘messing around.’”

As he turned to leave, you called out, “Azul?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not going to, like, hold this over my head, are you?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a sly smile. “Now, would I ever do something like that?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Why did I even ask?”

His laughter echoed down the hall as he walked away, leaving you to wonder if you’d just made a mistake—or if you’d unintentionally gained his admiration. Either way, the image of Azul’s flustered expression was one you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had long mastered the art of blending into the background, observing the world from the sidelines without drawing attention to himself. It was how he kept control, how he stayed one step ahead. But today, his usually composed exterior faltered.

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to stop by the empty classroom, but when he pushed the door open, his entire world shifted.

You were there.

Gone was the gentle, kind presence he had grown used to. Instead, you were standing atop a low table, your expression sharp and commanding, your hands sweeping through the air as if conjuring storms with your words.

"Prince Ali? Yes, it is he, but not as you know him!"

Jamil froze. Your voice was rich, dripping with mockery and power, a far cry from the sweet tone you usually used. You stalked across the small space, throwing your arms out dramatically as you continued the song, your movements perfectly embodying the calculated, theatrical confidence of the Sorcerer of the Sands himself.

"Read my lips and come to grips with reality!"

Your voice curled around the words, biting and sardonic, and Jamil felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. You were into it. Every gesture, every word carried weight, as if you were performing for an audience of thousands instead of an empty room.

He had always admired the Sorcerer of the Sands—not just for his cleverness, but for his ambition, his cunning, the way he refused to settle for the scraps the world threw him. Watching you now, it was as if you’d plucked that same spirit from the pages of a storybook and breathed it into life.

"His personality flaws give me adequate cause..."

You spun dramatically, pointing an accusatory finger at an imaginary audience, your expression fierce. For a moment, Jamil almost believed you were chastising him, and his heart skipped a beat.

He should look away. He should leave before you noticed him. But he couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot, utterly captivated.

"To send him packing on a one-way trip, so his prospects take a terminal dip!"

You ended with a flourish, holding your arms out as if soaking in invisible applause, a self-satisfied smirk curling your lips.

And then you saw him.

“Jamil?!” you yelped, nearly losing your balance in surprise.

He stepped forward, trying to look impassive even though his heart was still racing. “I didn’t mean to interrupt… whatever that was.”

Your face turned a deep shade of red. “I was just, uh, messing around! I didn’t think anyone was here.”

“That much was clear.” His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed him. They lingered on you a moment too long, taking in the faint flush on your cheeks, the sparkle in your eyes, the way your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath.

You fidgeted, smoothing your clothes. “It’s nothing, really. Just a silly song.”

“Silly?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “That performance was anything but silly.”

Your embarrassment deepened. “You don’t have to mock me, you know.”

“I’m not mocking you,” he said quickly. Too quickly. He cleared his throat, glancing away. “It was… impressive. You captured the essence of the character perfectly.”

“Really?”

Jamil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes. The confidence, the control, the edge of menace—it was all there. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were plotting to overthrow a kingdom.”

You laughed nervously. “Guess I just got carried away.”

“Carried away...” he murmured, his gaze softening. The truth was, watching you like that had shaken something loose in him. Seeing you embody the cunning, ambitious traits he admired so deeply—it was almost too much.

“Anyway,” you said, hopping off the table. “I’ll just pretend this never happened if you will.”

Jamil smirked faintly. “As you wish.”

But as you walked past him, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, watching the way you moved, still radiating the energy of the sorcerer you’d been channeling moments ago.

Masterlist

[butteronabun]

i just want you to take me where your heart is

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader highschool au.

overview: and who could possibly be the golden boy’s type?

wc: 2k

notes: imagine diluc with his hair down in this one. and also. diluc’s father hasn’t d-worded in this au so he’s the happy diluc we all know and love before shit hit the fan ( we still love him even after shit hit the fan tho )

Diluc Ragnvindr is prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker. 

And of course, he’s every girl’s dream guy. 

“. . . And yet, he’s still single,” Kaeya remarks with a smirk, and his friends around him laugh in unison. 

Currently, he’s eating lunch with them in the campus’ outdoor park — a place of tranquility where some students prefer to hang. Instead of being involved in the hustle and bustle of what goes on in their cafeteria, be it your average food fights or impromptu musicals incited by a certain twin–braided man, said outdoor park was a better option for these lads to unwind.

“You know, I used to think that he and Jean would look good together,” a friend of Kaeya says, and they all turn to him. “She’s just like him: elegant and grades conscious. Takes part in student governments and volunteers to school events. Plus, she’s drop dead gorgeous! With her brilliant blue eyes and smooth blond hair, oh, if I was Diluc - I would not hesitate to date her!”

“Nah, I think Lumine is better,” They all glance next to their right. “She’s sporty, and she can definitely keep up with Diluc. She aces her tests without any difficulty, despite doing a part–time job every night with her brother in a nearby coffee shop, and it’s rumored that she makes the best drinks! Moreover, she’s a beauty. That’s why she keeps on receiving loads of love letters during the Windblume Festival every year, so it will not be surprising if she’ll be getting them again!”

Ah, yes. The Windblume Festival is fast approaching—now that January is about to end, in the next two weeks, Brightcrown High School’s air will surely be filled with nothing but endless romance.

Kaeya gazes up above, where a giant tree shadows their figures with its bright green leaves. The sunlight filters through the gaps and he basks into this moment of peace. He then adds playfully, “And Diluc will be busy tidying up his locker once more, because it will be filled with chocolates and letters.”

“What?! Does he even eat them? Tell him that he can donate, you know!”

Kaeya huffs, “My brother won’t even give me a piece, what makes you think he’ll hand you one?” 

He remembers the time that Diluc had been so overwhelmed by the plethora of sweets, and yet seemed so appreciative about it. Father was just proud of the older son’s popularity. Kaeya offered to help him consume them all as a joke, but Diluc shook his head vigorously, saying that he shouldn’t, and that “they all worked hard for this”, and it was right that he only eat them.

How adorable of him, really.

Plus, Diluc even read the letters one by one. No matter how cringe or sickeningly sweet they were, Diluc read them all. And Kaeya wasn’t even shocked that there was no judgment in his face. 

Diluc was just grateful for the gifts. Bashful, indeed, and sometimes he was not sure what to feel, but he was grateful.

“So, Diluc. Who will it be? Jean or Lumine?” Kaeya questions with a grin that afternoon, when the Windblume Festival is finally in full swing. 

Diluc raises his head from the paper he’s answering — it’s a survey given to him by one of the juniors for their research subject — and frowns. “What brought this on? Why am I suddenly choosing between two friends?”

“Oh come on, you weren’t even listening!” Kaeya pouts, before sitting on a nearby desk. 

After exploring the premises for some snacks and attractions, the brothers decided to stay inside an empty classroom for a while. They can hear some cheers from the outside, loud declarations of love and squeals from the majority, that surely Diluc thinks would be a delight for Kaeya, but has opted to accompany him instead.

“I was.” Diluc purses his lips, and hears laughter echoing through the halls as students run and get chased by disciplinary officers. “You and your friends were talking about the girls and I. I just don’t understand why you want me to choose. And be careful, you might fall. Don’t move so much.”

“Cooome on, Diluc,” Kaeya groans as he leans, “We’re sixteen, aren’t we? Father says we’re at that age, after all. By that, I meant, where we’re all supposed to be dating and courting?”

Diluc feels his cheeks slightly heat up from the words that escaped from Kaeya’s mouth. He returns to his duty of answering the survey. ( As if he needed to, when he was already done. ) “And I told you countless times that I’m not interested. Need I remind you that I don’t have the time for it. You know I still have to prepare for college, and that I have to keep an eye on my varsity scholarship, and—“

“Yadda, yadda, yadda——“

“Don’t yadda me, Kaeya. That’s just how it is.”

“You seriously aren’t interested?” Kaeya prods.

Diluc shoots him a firm stare. “Absolutely positive.”

And Kaeya sticks his tongue before hopping from the desk and making his way to the door. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.” Diluc watches his retreating back. “I’ll make sure to find you a lady, and it’ll be your type, and you’ll fall in love.”

Kaeya pulls the door open. He confidently says, “It’ll be inevitable, Diluc. Inevitable!”

A small smile creeps its way to Diluc’s lips, finding this all amusing. “Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Kaeya huffs, not liking that Diluc seems so smug and unbothered by it, then leaves.

Diluc waits for a while. And waits. 

And waits, until he blinks, checks his survey, before sighing heavily. 

A brilliant shade of red coats his pale cheeks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Dating. Courting. The type of lady Diluc likes? Yeah. Diluc already has found his type. 

( Kaeya doesn’t have to know yet. He hates lying, but it’s too soon. Maybe someday. If Diluc can face his feelings first. )

So, hear, hear! He’s not missing out, in spite of what his friends say.

This person is not what everyone expects; it’s not the formal and polite Jean who can deliver a speech eloquently, nor the radiant and loyal Lumine that they want to push toward his direction.

Instead. . .it’s someone else.

And that someone else dropped a bowl of soup to Principal Varka’s white slacks. That someone else triggered the anger of a certain math teacher because she climbed the roof so carelessly during class to fly a kite. That someone else got into detention and instead of writing I’ll be good from now on one hundred times, spent the day with the others in that session to tell ghost stories.

That someone else was you, who wasn’t like Jean or Lumine. That someone else was you—the you, who was his exact opposite, and yet managed to capture his heart. 

You are one of Mond High’s known troublemakers, and apparently, he has fallen victim to your charms.

Maybe it began when you were just snickering with your buddies in the library despite the librarian‘s persistent shushing. He was solving his quadratic formula worksheets back then, and he was impressed that even if you were fooling around, you were in the library to actually learn more about the cardiovascular system, with the help of a fellow friend. 

(“I will be proud to say that the one that carries the blood away from the heart is. . . arteries!”

“You’re right!”

“Yay!!”

“Shh!”) 

Or maybe it began when you witnessed that one student who humiliated himself by accidentally slipping on the wet floor in the cafeteria, and everyone sans Diluc laughed.  Then you came to his rescue, marching in the middle with all the attention on you. 

You didn’t offer your hand. 

But you purposefully slipped instead, and even had the most embarrassing fall. The cafeteria became noisier because of you, and Diluc, baffled at first, found himself chuckling soon after.

Actually, no. 

He didn’t fall in love with you during those times. These were the times in his life that led to this one very moment—

When the Favonious Birds lost the tournament, Diluc was sulking in the playground, all by himself. He took the blame despite Kaeya and his friends denying it, but he knew better. If Diluc had just made it quickly to the ring, their team could’ve been victorious and brought the trophy home.

But alas, it was just an if. It didn’t happen.

Then, something wet drops in his hair. Then his arm. And nose. It was about to rain, and Diluc just grunted, not caring one bit. He was sure Adelinde would make a fuss about it, or his father would pester him for his carelessness, but he wasn’t in the mood to leave his spot just yet.

Let the rain wash away his sorrows.

Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. 

“Don’t match with the gloomy weather now.”

Diluc slowly lifted his head, wondering who spoke and what covered his pathetic and hunched form that was wallowing in despair. And his eyes grew wide when he saw you, almost bending with an umbrella in hand, sheltering you and him from the incoming downpour.

You smiled down at him, “There it is. Keep your head up, King! Your crown is falling.” 

And Diluc’s heart skipped a beat the same time a thunder rumbled from the distance. “W–what. . . ?”

You continued, “I don’t know what got you all so sad, but everything will be fine soon! I’m sure of it! After all, once the rain passes, there will be a rainbow!” Then, you grabbed his cold and even bigger hand, and Diluc, at that split second, felt the static. You didn’t even react. But your hand was warm, and Diluc’s chest was, too. 

Dumbfounded, he let you guide his fingers. It only came to him long after that he was gripping a metal handle. “Have my umbrella! I hope this will make your day a little better, and if it doesn’t. . . well, at least I tried. But I have to go now!”

You quickly put the hood over your head when the rain grew stronger. Diluc, concerned over your well–being, finally regained his composure to protest. “But what about you— hey. . . !”

He watched you run and wave, bidding farewell. “You don’t have to return it to me! It’s all yours! I really have to go, so see you, maybe? Bye!”

“But. . . !”

And Diluc. . . Diluc could catch you if he wanted. He could sprint and return the umbrella to its rightful owner, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he remained in his position. 

And his heart— oh, his heart. His heart couldn’t stop pounding that day.

You are Diluc’s first love. 

That is established. 

The thing is, this is a secret. No one knows yet. Just him.

He’s never felt this towards anyone before. You are his first.

( And hopefully the last. )

You’re different from everyone else. You’re different from him. You have your own unique methods of doing things. You have your own way of paving your path. You are the artist to your own canvas; the director of your own film.

You are like the sun. You brighten everyone’s day with your presence, and you also shine, because Diluc can’t keep his eyes off of you whenever you’re in the vicinity.

He knows that this is really an unexpected outcome – him, who was definitely out of your league and vice versa, catching feelings for someone like you.

( Someone like you who is free in life, and Diluc wants to feel that, even just for a bit, with you. )

But like before, all he can do is merely daydream and wonder about the what–ifs. What will it be like to be your friend? Will he experience all the shenanigans that you ensue? Will he also fly a kite with you? Will he get into detention?

Yet this is unbecoming. Improper. Inappropriate for someone like him—for the eldest son of the Ragnvindrs and for the next heir of the winery. He can’t indulge into lighthearted affairs or mischief. He’s supposed to be responsible and disciplined. A man of propriety.

So all he can ever do is have these thoughts. Just thoughts. He has more important matters to attend to, like college applications, training, lessons in handling the in winery business. . . 

And . . . there’s no way that you’ll approach him again, right? 

Diluc knows to himself that can do it instead, you know. He can approach you if he must, but . . . he’s just so shy. 

And a lot of people are always around you. So who is he to burst your bubble, when you seem so finally content with your life?

Diluc peeks from the open windows and sees couples holding hands and sharing kisses. Briefly, he imagines what it would be like to experience romantic love during Windblume.

He feels his cheeks steam again. 

Kaeya will surely have a field day once he sees his older brother being lovesick like this.

You really are one of Mond High’s troublemakers. And it’s not only because you prank your friends or piss off the teachers, but you make it hard for him to focus. 

Just thinking of you never fails to make his heart perform somersaults.

He is Diluc Ragnvindr. Prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker. 

He is not every girl’s dream guy. 

Because unfortunately, the girl he likes doesn’t even see him in a romantic light.

[taifenggg]

Lovestruck[Demon Bros]

Things the bros do because they're simps for you.

CW: mild cursing

Characters: GN!Reader(no pronouns specified), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Authors Notes: I actually have a huge amount of requests for my other accounts but since I’m impulsive and have no sense of impulse control, I made another writing account for the sole reason that I wanted to ramble about Obey Me LMAOOO

[Dateables Here]

Lucifer [🦚💙]

He listens to you, even when he's busy

“Luciferrr,” you poke your head into his room, after knocking on his door. You stroll in taking in the sight of a somewhat disheveled Lucifer, sitting behind stacks of paperwork. A few buttons at the top of his shirt are undone and his tie is loose around his neck. You resist the urge to stare longer than you need to, turning away and plopping down in one of the armchairs in his room.

“I’m busy.” Although his words are blunt, there’s no actual malice behind them. You take that as a sign that since he didn’t actually tell you to leave that it was okay for you to stay. You lean over the side of your chair, sighing somewhat dramatically. “You’ll never believe what happened earlier.” And soon, you find yourself rambling about your day to Lucifer, speaking whatever comes to your mind. Every time you glance up at Lucifer, it seems as though he’s busy with whatever paperwork he’s subjecting himself to, but you ignore it and continue speaking.

Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer had actually stopped quite a while back ago, he was busy staring at the same line again and again, but somehow he couldn’t find the urge to continue working when all he could focus in on was your voice. His finger tapped absentmindedly at his pen as the edges of his lips quirked up every so slightly finding the way you were sprawled over the chair somewhat amusing. 

Mammon [💰💛]

He’ll do something with you, even if he’s inclined not to

“D-do we have to do this?” Mammon’s hand squeezed yours tightly and you could feel how clammy it was against yours. You pouted at him, your lip jutting out, “Mammonnnn come on, can we please go into the haunted house? It’s supposedly much scarier than last years!” Your expression softens as you watch him visibly stiffen at the prospect of going in, “Well on second thought-”

“Nono, lets do it. T-the Great Mammon will protect you from anything that jumps out at us!” He points at himself, puffing his chest out to make himself seem more imposing. You resist the urge to laugh at how goofy he looks despite the fact that he’s clearly scared shitless. “Okay, okay,” you reach over to ruffle his hair, hoping that in doing so could help alleviate some of the nerves he was feeling. 

“Oi, what’re you doing?” Mammon’s face flushes, but he doesn’t stop you, and instead leans into your hand more. Giving your hand one more squeeze, he charged towards the haunted house with you in tow. Needless to say the both of you spent the entire time clinging to each other when you're in there. 

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

He has a playlist of songs that reminds him of you

“Levi, I just listened to that one artist you recommended to me, and I gotta say, their songs are absolute bangers,” You grin at him, “You have really good music taste!” Leviathan blushes from the compliment, turning to the side, “Well they actually dropped a new song recently, let me share it with you, I have it in my playlist.” He pulled out his D.D.D to open his Devilfy, scrolling through the numerous playlists that he had.

His finger pauses in its scrolling as it hovers over a certain playlist titled, “My Henry.” He glances up at you, feeling himself grow flustered as he quickly looks away once more, typing in the song instead of trying to scroll and find it and sends it to you. “Thanks! I got it!” You beam at him, shooting him a thumbs up from where you’re seated, and putting in your earbuds to stream it. 

He’s grateful he made the playlist private, lest he deal with any questions from your end. 

Satan [😾💚]

He sees parts of you in characters in his stories

“What do you have there?” you peeked over his shoulder, draping your arms over him. If it were any of his brothers, he would have found himself snapping at them and pushing them away, but since it was you Satan found himself leaning more into you touch. “A book I recently acquired,” he smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand. 

“Mhmm, anything interesting?” You absentmindedly traced the outline of his fingers with yours and Satan swore he could feel his heartbeat going faster. “Well, in a way the main character of this book is kind of like you. They’re kind, and they’re not afraid to stand up for what they believe is right,” He chuckles softly, turning the page with his free hand. You deadpanned, shaking your head, “You’re just describing every generic, heroic main character out there.”

Satan paused, setting his book down slightly as he turned to look at you, a gentle smile on his face. His hand reaches up, brushing your cheek, “I suppose, but they are traits that define you as well.”

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

He’s always seeking to try things with you

“Y/N! There’s this new café that opened up near Ristorante Six, want to come try it with me?” Asmo grabbed your arm, hugging it tight, almost as if he was afraid you would slip away from his grasp. You turned to face him, laughing softly as you transferred his hand into yours. “Didn’t you just go there the other day?” you teased him lightly.

Asmo pouted slightly, holding onto your hand even tighter, “Since the line was so long I didn’t get to try everything that I wanted to because they were limiting the number of items a single customer could order, that’s why I want to bring you with me! Plus it’s super pretty there, pleaseeeee?” You held his gaze, your resolve wavering slightly, you had planned on doing something else but seeing how badly he wanted to go you couldn’t help but relent.

“Alright, alright, of course I’ll go,” you laughed lightly. Asmo’s face lit up upon hearing your answer, tugging you along with him, “Great! I have a few other things planned out, so hopefully you don’t mind if I steal you for a few hours~”

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

He seeks out your opinion before deciding on anything. 

“Bloody Terrine, Deep-Fried Devil Zebra, Devildom Stir-fry with Toxic Chameleon-”

“Beel you’re drooling,” you laugh softly, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. He takes it from you, his stomach rumbling from the thought of what he wanted to eat. “Y/N, what should I get?” His eyes focus in on you after a few seconds of staring at the menu. “Huh?” you’re slightly startled from his sudden question. “You should get whatever you’re feeling Beel, I mean you’re the one eating it.”

Beel shook his head, continuing to hold your gaze, “I want to hear your thoughts as well,” a slight flush dusts his face, but it’s barely visible. You smile softly, looking up at the menu, thinking for a second. “Mmmm well you got Bloody Terrine yesterday, and Deep-Fried Devil Zebra a few days before right? Why not get the stir-fry?” Beel takes in your thoughts, thinking on it for a moment before beaming at you, “Okay I’ll do that, thanks Y/N.”

Belphegor [🐮💜]

He prioritizes your comfort over his own

Belphie opened his eyes slowly, a smile finding its way onto his face as he stared at you, asleep next to him. However that smile soon turns into a frown as he studies the way your face is scrunched up, almost as if you were having a bad dream.

Belphie gently untangles himself from you, brushing a hand over the top of your head. Almost immediately, your face relaxes and you let out a puff of air as you slip into a more comfortable slumber. Belphie continues brushing his hand through your hair, carefully so he wouldn’t end up waking you up. Sure he was tired, but he would have rather helped you than just leaving you to fend for yourself when it came to the nightmares that plagued your sleep. His tail curls around your leg comfortingly, holding you in place so that you don’t end up rolling away but at the same time you’re still near him. 

Belphie sighs softly as he settles back down next to you, rearranging his limbs so that they weren’t in your way. Although it wasn’t the most comfortable position, it was better than nothing. 

To Masterlist [ ◇ ]

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[coline7373]

How to comment 101

A fandom is the subculture inherent to a group of fans. It touches anything related to the field of predilection of such a group of people and is organized or created by these same people. And, like everything that comes from people, it is alive and requires exchanges to continue to exists.

People who receive no comments have often and at length express how lonely it can feel to be shouting alone in the void and how discouraging such silence can be.

I have found after asking around that readers aren’t unwilling to comment, but mainly don’t have the energy or know what to say.

Some readers have also expressed a fear of annoying the author, as they are clumsy with words, or feeling intimidated in front of an author who has such a talent with words that the reader's own words feel too embarrassing. Or not feeling that their own five word sentence is worth the bother.

Every word matters.

Every comment is worth its writing to the author.

I refer you to this post if you doubt the importance and impact of comments on fanfics.

To help those willing to comment, I have done a very modest survey of roughly 20 persons, writers and readers alike, and here is what I have come up with.

For writers:

Write in your notes, at the end of the fic, clearly what type of comment you do not want. 

Clearly stating your limits and preferences helps readers who are uncertain or not very verbose to write in a relaxed way.

If they do not have the anxiety of offending, vexing or annoying the author, they will be more comfortable and therefore more inclined to write.

If you have repeated commenters, try to reply to their comments, even with just a few words. Some people who do not receive replies to any of their comments take the lack of response to mean the author is not reading comments at all, feel discouraged and stop commenting in turn.

If you do read the comments, but don’t want to reply for whatever reason, do say so at the end of the fic, in the notes, so that readers know what to expect and not be disappointed.

For readers:

Do:

About the story: 

You can write about a particular line that you liked, the themes, parallels with canon or within the story, the characterisation, a character’s exploration, a/several character’s motivation, a/several character’s mindset/thinking/emotional reaction, a/several characters’ interaction, the plot, the action happening, the worldbuilding, emotions within the fic, subtext, pacing...

If you liked everything and are overwhelmed on how to narrow it down, you can just say exactly that. “I loved everything!”

You can also focus on pointing out just one moment, one line, one specific thing and why you liked them, specifically. What matters is not that you wrote a novel but that you communicated to the author what made you happy, what you enjoyed.

About you: 

What emotions the fic made you feel, what you think is going on in a wip or what you (think you have) figure(d) out, what you are doing in real life while reading the story, afterward, because of it, and/or how the fic impacted your life (yay! motivation to make art!), how the fic is meaningful on a personal level because x, y, z, what it made you think of, like another fic, a book, a song, a movie, what subject/fact it prompted you to discover more of…

How: 

You can write an essay, a prose, or some serious, meaningful, impactful words but you can also joke with the author as long as you stay mindful or polite. A lot of authors have said they love when people make jokes or break the fourth wall. 

Unsure about your sense of humor? Here is an example: do not write "I hate you! How could you do this to me!” Write "How could you do this? The betrayal! die offscreen.”

Making a parody of what is going on with the characters with a few lines can be funny! Keep it positive. Not everyone has the same degree of sarcasm. But levity and good humor are always welcomed.

Small fics vs longer fics:

Emojis, keysmashing and incoherent yelling are very often correct comments for small fics or drabbles. (Unless otherwise specified.)

They are also loved in longer fics, (unless otherwise specified,) but people who have been writing a story for literal years appreciate you taking at least five minutes to say a bit more than that.

Try to go through all the “about the fic” and “about you” points above, methodically, and choose just two or three of them. Then write just one sentence per point.

If you really don't know what to say, look at other people's comments. Sometimes, you will recognise something you liked too or that you thought was really good. It can help and be the starting point of your own comment.

Long WIPs:

For long fics that you follow while they are being written, people have said they have at first a lot of enthusiasm for commenting, but find it harder and harder to know what to say as the number of chapters accumulate, and so does the number of comments they feel obligated to give in turn.

Please, keep commenting! Love keeps the writers motivated and helps creativity. It’s like shouting in the void and getting a high five back.

Even one line about something specific (a dialogue bit, a reaction, a plot maneuver) can make an author happy.

Writers are not really looking for length or details. They are looking for care. If you read something you liked, just point out what you enjoyed. That's engagement enough. 

Comments aren't really about the act of a compliment. They are about the shared joy of a fandom or a ship or a character. 

Example: “'X character diving headfirst into the sea like that is so like him!”

It’s good. It’s fun. It’s nice.

Some people have said to “save” a chapter, give a kudo and say “looking forward to reading this when I have time!” and wait until they do have time and energy to comment more at length, sometimes two or three chapters at the same time.

It let the writers know their fic is still being read. You just have to be mindful to not let months go by, otherwise, it goes back to leaving the author the impression they invested hours, weeks, months, into something no one interacts with. You can alternate strategies, lengthy comments, short comments, and commenting on several chapters saved.

If all else fails, go back to the tried and true. Choose one of the points above, choose just two or three of them and then write just one sentence per point.

If you are not a native speaker:

Google can help with the bare minimum. It's not great, but it lays the foundations. Write what you think in google translate and the translation will help guide your answer. You can always ask for help from someone else or warn the author that the fic’s language is not your native language, if you are unsure if your words come off in a tone not intended.

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It can be so easy to focus on the fic and your own inner imaginary garden/cinema, that we sometimes forget to switch from "inner life" to "outer life" and exchange actively with people on both sides of the fence.

But it can also add so much more to the experience <3

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[totaly-obsessed]

Could you write for leah where leah amd reder have kids and its parents evening and one of the kids have bad reports.

Parents Evening

Leah Williamson x reader request

-> Leah and Reader attend a Parents Evening and there are a lot more tears than expected

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Abigail Lynn Williamson! What is this?”

And with that Leah knew that her calm evening was over. It was never fun for the twenty-eight-year-old to hear you, her wife, yell. Especially not at your eight-year-old daughter Abigail, who was currently cuddled up to the blonde’s chest, carefully watching her little brother crawl on the floor.

“What did you do?” The defender’s whisper was met with an even quieter “I don’t know Mama.” But the flushed cheeks and restless eyes trying to avoid looking into her mothers gave her away. Abby knew exactly what was up, and it didn’t take Leah long to figure it out either.

You had rounded the corner now, a crumpled piece of paper in your cramping fist – your face just as hot as your daughter's (at least she had gotten something from you). “I found this at the bottom of your bag, Missy.”

Your oldest child tried to hide herself in Leah’s side, who knew that that was not a good idea and pulled her out of it. “It’s not important Mommy. I promise!” By now Leah had stood up, and tried to take the paper from you – but your grip would not allow it. So instead, she maneuvered you to sit down on the arm-chair.

You had just entered the third trimester with your third child, and pregnancy was a bitch.

This was the last one, as you liked to remind your wife every evening. But she did not believe you. If she knew anyone who wanted a big family, it was you. And after you had Abby, you had also claimed, that she was the last one. Even though she was only the beginning.

“Nothing you say?” Abigail’s eyes were still fleeting from Leah’s, too scared to look at her mother, even though she knew that Leah could not be mad at her.

“Dear Parents, I would like to invite you to attend your daughter’s year 3 parents’ evening on Thursday second of November. The evening will run from 4.30 pm until 7.30 pm and will be a chance for you to meet your child’s teachers and discuss their progress, behaviors for learning, and attainment in each subject.”

If you had not been so mad, your wife would have laughed at the scared look on her daughter’s face. She was petrified. “Yeah but it's not-“

“Not mandatory? No, it is not. But a bright pink sticky note says ‘Dear Mrs. and Mrs. Williamson, please attend the evening – I would like to have a word with you. Yours faithfully, D. Halliwell”

Abigail tried to ignore your stare by sliding off the couch onto the floor, trying to motivate her three-year-old brother, Noah, to play with her. But the young boy was tired and just wanted to look at the pretty pictures in his book.

After successfully having Abigail through IVF, the next attempts had failed, and for four long years, Leah and you had struggled to get pregnant again. While the process was grueling, you were so incredibly happy to have Noah with you, and both Leah and you had learned a lot through the process.

“So what baby – It’s a parent's evening, not the end of the world. What’s up?” Your ever-so-loving wife had moved behind you, massaging your tense shoulders, trying to calm you down – anxious for you and the baby. “The second of November Leah.”

But nothing clicked in the blonde’s head. “That is today. Baby. And it starts at four-thirty. That is in an hour.” Now the footballer understood. The problem was not that there was a parent’s evening, or that Abby had ‘forgotten’ about it but the fact that it was today.

Tears started to well up in the eight-year-olds eyes, pulling yours out as well. You were already an emotional person, but seeing your baby cry? The end of the world – not that the pregnancy and its hormones were any help at all.

“I’m sorry Mommy.” A now crying Abigail climbed on your lap, pressing her wet face into the crook of your neck, sobbing.

Leah's heart broke at the sight, but instead of getting involved, knowing that the two of you needed to talk, she took Noah and made her way to the kitchen. “Please don’t hate me, Mommy.”

“Oh, Baby. I could never hate you. I am not mad, okay? I just want you to tell me things like this – and lying about it does not make it better. Do you understand?” You gently wiped away her tears as the small blonde sniffled a small “Yes, Mommy.”

Your wife had re-entered the room a nearly asleep Noah on her hip, her phone in hand. “Beth and Viv are going to pick them up in a couple of minutes, go on up Abby – pack your bag.” After pressing one last, very wet, kiss to your cheek your daughter hurried upstairs to pack her overnight bag, excited that she got to stay with her favorite aunties for the night. “Lee, I’m a mess. I look-“

“Beautiful.” The defender pulled you up by your hands, eyes fleeting to the baby bump. “I’m gonna get them two ready, while you’ll get yourself ready, yeah? Don’t hurry, we have enough time as long as we are there by half six. Go take a bath baby.”

Before you reached the stairs, your wife pulled you back by the hips for a quick kiss – but after she pulled away ending the kiss, she quickly doubled down – into a bruising heavy kiss. “Alright, up ya go.” The blonde’s voice was hoarse as she gasped for air, a cocky smirk on her face.

By five you had said goodbye to the kids, promising Beth and Viv that you would bring breakfast to pick them up. The couple was over the moon, happy to take in their favorite arsenal kids, even on such short notice.

Both Leah and you were dressed to impress – your wife in a nice beige suit and you in one of your favorite winter dresses. Occasions like this were still scary so you wanted to make good impressions. It was nerve-wracking that you did not know why your presence was requested, but even with Abby in year three you still did not know if the teaching staff was completely fine with both you and Leah as a married couple and mothers.

The fear of homophobia is still at large.

During the drive Leah tried to calm you down, drawing shapes and hearts onto your thighs – but you were still tense. And that did not change. Not after you had been greeted at the door and escorted to Abigail’s classroom by a prefect.

“Mrs. and Mrs. Williamson, nice to see you again!” Mrs. Halliwell greeted both of you with a firm handshake and a tense smile on her lips. Leah, being the best wife ever, pulled out one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk for you, gesturing to sit down. She took the seat next to you and her hand quickly found yours under the table.

“I am glad to see that the invitation for this evening has made its way to you.” Blue eyes met yours, as Lee looked at you, remembering what had happened not too long ago. “Regardless I am afraid that I do not have much good news for you.”

There it was. The panic that had been boiling up deep inside of you.

Both you and your wife were preparing for the worst, whatever it may be.

“Abigail does not have the best marks in most subjects. Except for physical education.” Mrs. Halliwell threw a quick glance at Leah, who was obviously the athlete in the relationship.

You knew that Abby’s marks were not the greatest, but you were working on it, helping with homework and various projects. You had even gotten a tutor for math, the subject she felt the most insecure about – and it was her idea.

“She cannot pay attention to things longer than ten minutes, always playing around with toys or drawing. Her behavior is poor at best. She does not listen to a word I say, always thinking about something else. Things must change.”

There was a feeling in your stomach that you did not like – you hated it. The nagging voice of the teacher nearly made you doze off, you could not even imagine having to sit through it for hours like your poor daughter did.

But the disgust Mrs. Halliwell held in her voice when she talked about Abigail made you tear up. Sweet little Abby, who could listen to you read to her for hours, being able to recite every single one you had made up for her as she wrote them down in a storybook, just for the two of you. She even drew pictures alongside it, wanting to share them with her brother Noah, and her unborn sibling.

Sweet Abigail, who would hang on to Leah’s and her teammates ’ lips, desperate for every bit of footballing information she could get. But apparently, the teacher knew a different side of Abigail, one you did not.

“Do you have anything nice to say about or daughter?” Leah was getting angry as well, her grip on your hand tightening as her jaw clenched.

Mrs. Halliwell drew in a sharp breath as she filled through her papers “She is very opinionated and does not let anyone talk over her. Abigail is a great leader as she takes charge of the football team.” What sounded like a compliment, felt like a punch to the face as she called your daughter bossy. Not a single word that left her lips was said with joy, dislike lacing every word.

Leah could feel your anger radiating off you and she knew that she had to intervene “So what can we do to better things?” The woman whom you had thought of as ‘nice’ got uglier in character the longer you looked at her. Pursed, chapped lips, dry eyes with thin damaged hair – she looked tired. “As long as she doesn’t change, I don’t see any way she could improve.”

Change.

She wanted your daughter to change, instead of helping her as she was. “Change in what way?” Leah was more composed than you, used to watchful eyes and judgment. “She needs to calm down and stop talking every chance she gets – Abigail needs to pay attention. But personally, I think that it is hopeless.”

Boom. There it was.

It was over and Leah knew it, letting go of your hand as you stood up, a hand pressed to your tummy. “Excuse me? Hopeless? You are talking about an eight-year-old girl. Someone who is dependent on you, to learn. If you teach the way that you talk to us, I can understand why she does not pay attention.”

You were in full mother-bear mode, protective of your young. And while Leah was angry as well, she needed to control the situation.

And her thoughts, as she could not help but find it incredibly hot how angry and protective you got, about your child, hers in your tummy.

“Where are her things?” The stunned Mrs. Halliwell just stared at you as you, as you stood in front of her – steam practically pouring out of your ears. She pointed over to one of the desks. Of course, it was the messiest in the room, Leah’s genes coming through strong.

Your wife understood clearly, gathering all of Abby’s things from the table, as well as from her drawer in the class cupboard. “We will be going now – and you will hear from us. Have a nice evening Mrs. Halliwell.” With that you stormed out, Leah hot on your heels with Abby’s arts and crafts in her hands as the door slammed shut behind the both of you.

You held it together until you entered the car, tears escaping you in streams. “Did you hear how she talked about our daughter?” With a coo, Leah pulled you into her chest. A gentle hand stroking your hair, trying to calm you down. “I know darling.” More sobs shook your body, reminding her of how Abby had cried earlier in the day. “She was so mean to my baby, Lee!”

You both had decided to pick Abby up from the Miedema-Mead house, wanting to talk to her alone, in need of a bit of quality time with her.

Viv pulled you into a deep hug with Noah in her arms, who really wanted to stay the night at their house. The Dutch had no idea what happened, but she could see your need for stability. Beth and Leah were leaning against your family car, the defender explaining what happened quietly to her friend whose eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “Is that teacher still alive or did Momma over there get to her first?”

Abigail was quiet in the car, afraid that she was in trouble. You had given up your seat in the front, opting to sit next to the girl, holding her hand in yours.

Back at home, Leah had led everyone into your bedroom, helping you up into the high bed, your bump slightly in the way. “Are you okay baby?” You knew that the question was for the both of you, as the eight-year-old cuddled up between the two of you “Yeah, I’m fine Mama. How are you?”

And there they were again. Those annoying tears. Sweet little Abigail who was so considerate of her Mom’s feelings.

“I’m fine, thank you, baby. We wanted to talk to you about something. Is that okay?” The smaller blonde nodded, fear taking over her eyes as well. “Sorry ‘bout my marks – I’ll get better. I promise” Her little voice was muffled by Leah’s shirt that she was burrowing herself in. All three of you had changed into warm, matching pajamas as soon as you had gotten home.

“Don’t worry about them, darling.” Surprised eyes met yours as you pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Do you like Mrs. Halliwell, baby?” The instant mean face that she pulled, looked exactly like your wife’s when she was in a bad mood – answering your question without words. “That’s okay, Darl. Why don’t you like her?”

“She is so boring and she can’t explain things – I don’t understand anything. She doesn’t answer my questions and she doesn’t let me read when she asks for volunteers. I know how to read! Better than Ben, and she chooses him every time.” Her angry rambling reminded Leah of you when the book you read does not end the way you want it to. “And she doesn’t let me draw when I am finished with my questions, she yells at me a lot. And she, she jus-“ Abigail couldn’t continue, sobs wrecking her tiny body and eventually yours.

You were a terrible mother; how did you not notice? Even big and strong Leah was close to tears, watching some of the most important people of her life cry, kissing both her girls on the cheek. “Kay baby. Ya need to answer a question for us, okay? Think about it for a sec.” You held your breath as Leah asked her mini-me: “Do you want to leave Mrs. Halliwell’s class?”

The nod did not even come a second later. “Just her class or the school? Mommy and I can homeschool you til the next year starts. We can find ya a nice new school?”

“Yes please, Mama.” It was heartbreaking to see this little girl ready to give up her school because of a teacher. The principal would hear of this, and you would make sure of it.

“Please tell us if something makes you sad okay baby? We can try to fix it, but only if we know what’s up.” Abby had her smile back, as she nodded at you – imitating her mother, placing slobbery kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

Leah could barely contain her joy. Her girls back laughing again – and with Abby homeschooled she would not need to dry your tears every morning when the small blonde left the house.

“Do you have a wish baby? Your birthday is coming up.” She thought hard. Much harder than she had when deciding if she wanted to leave school – “A baby sister please.”

Both Leah and you were stunned.

A baby sister.

You had not told anybody the gender of the new baby yet – but it was safe to say, that Abby would get what she wanted. Her birthday would be a complete success.

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” ||[10/…]

— OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"You're the one, You're all I ever wanted. I think I'll regret this."

— Mitski, "Your Best American Girl"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (live action) x F!Reader

Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.

The past echoes behind you, as does the uncertain future that lies ahead. Where you go from this point on, you'll have to be quick about making your decision. There is unrest in the waters, and not everyone knows how to swim.

Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, mentions of violence and blood, Buggy being a simp, flashbacks

A/N: .... Half a year later, and an update. As I've mentioned several times already, I'm sorry for the delay. A lot of things have happened these past couple of months, work has been hella hectic, and I'm moving into a house next month. This chapter is not too long, but I hope it'll do until the finale. If you notice any grammar mistakes, no you didn't.

It's tough to have so much love in your heart but nowhere to put it. It festers in your body, churning until it sours and rots into something unspeakably ugly.

You try not to remember, but sometimes your mind possesses a will of its own; sadistic in nature, taunting you with images of events you wish would leave you be. 

You recall that day. You see images of it flash through the synapses in your brain on more than a few occasions; twisting and knotting until they form an enlarged image of what you have dubbed the day you were acquainted with true pain.

It was a rainy day, not even a month after Rogers departed from the world of the living. The winds were picking up, the ship was rocking like she intended to knock you off balance and leave you at the mercy of the waves. 

Even still, you refused to let go.

The tension between Shanks and Buggy was palpable through your fingertips for a while by then, the reasons behind which were entirely unknown to you. The way they looked at each other was vehemently acrimonious, yet you had no clue as to what had detonated this rift. 

Maybe you didn’t want to think about it?

Maybe you were so desperately naive as to believe that things would stay the same, even when it was plain to see that they wouldn’t.

Buggy and Shanks had always been … at odds with one another, but never in a way that struck you strange before. They were simply like that, for as long as you’d known them. Their rivalry was benevolent in nature, just boys being boys, pirates being pirates.

Not that day.

You had been talking to Shanks on deck, moments before it happened. The subject of your conversation has long since evaded your memory, but that’s all you did. Conversing.

Then, Buggy was there, only that he wasn’t there either. There was something different about the bright blue eyes you used to hold in such high regard. They were cold, inexplicably hostile. 

Foul.

There was rage in his irises, and that had been beyond the kind you were acquainted with. It was scorching, tenfold sharper than the kind you received from your foes. 

Only that he wasn’t one of your foes.

It was Buggy.

Your Buggy.

And you were on the receiving end.

“You’re going with him, aren’t you?!” He demanded in such a way that you felt like it wasn’t him at all. An impostor.

Whether it was the surprise or the shock that ensnared you, you didn’t answer at first.

“ANSWER ME, DAMNIT!”

“Buggy…” your voice was hushed, scarcely making your vocal cords vibrate with each syllable. “What are you—?”

“I saw it, so don’t bother denying it!” 

He stomped over to you, and it felt like the planks beneath his feet were about to break. “Just tell me! Tell me that’s what you’re going to do! Just get it over with!”

You tried to reach for him, intertwine his fingers with your own; a safety line amidst a storm. He never rejected the gesture before, but when your digits fell upon his soft skin, he yanked them off like your touch was molten lava.

His limbs were quivering, hands knotted to fists, burning with heat yet trembling with cold at the same time.

Then, he said three words. 

Three words that would come to haunt you for the next two decades to come.

“I hate you,” he snarled. “I wish we’d never even met. Be with him if that’s what you fucking want! What do I care?”

“Buggy—“

For a moment, you didn’t know how to breathe. 

How to blink. 

How to feel. 

You had been stabbed before. Burnt. Slapped. Stabbed. Whipped. Tortured. 

Long before Rogers brought you with him, you thought yourself well-acquainted with all the pain the world could provide. It marred your bones, painted your flesh, scarred your skin. The indents still stained your arms and legs, your face, yet nothing could compare to the agony that followed Buggy’s words.

Your heart felt hollow; submerged in neck-deep waters with no bottom in sight.

“Buggy,” the corners of your eyes were stinging, yet you could not recall if you were crying or not. The feeling was a foreign one, so much so that you had no way of recognizing the sensation. 

He left after that; turned his back and walked away, and it was the last time you ever saw him in the flesh.

The next couple of years following that incident were blurry, you can’t remember much of it. It was as though your brain decided to dismiss those memories in an act of self-preservation.

You remember staying with Shanks for a time, whether loyalty or self-preservation, it didn’t matter. You stayed until just the mere sight of him rendered your guts to stones. 

You had no reason to resent him. He was good, among the best, but he could not provide a cure for your affliction, so you decided to leave the Red-Haired Pirates.

Shanks never begrudged you.

After parting ways with him, it didn’t take you long enough to establish a crew of your own, and a name. “Cross-Hairs”, the moniker you replaced with your real one. It’s been so long since anyone acknowledged your actual one, it’s as if it never existed. 

Some people saw a strong woman with enough broken bones on her record to know she would ensure their survival just as much as she could guarantee their demise, yet they still placed their bets on it.

Thus, the Cross-Haired Pirates came to fruition. Escaped convicts, thieves, general rogues, but efficient people in their own rights.

They feared you as much as they respected you. Your crew was among the most loyal people you’ve ever met. 

If you told them to bark, they’d bite. 

If you commanded them to kill, they’d do so without question, but they’d still leave their lives in your hands. They were your pack of loyal hounds, but you were a wolf in their ranks. Your say was the last of theirs.

You don’t regret letting them go. You had nothing more to offer them after you’d found a reason to stay in Foosha Village. Whatever violence remained in the world; they could find it in your absence. 

Some of them chose to disagree with your decision, demand that you remain their Captain; their checks would never run empty, but they were silenced quickly enough with the swing of your blade.

You’re not proud of the person you were, yet you could credit your survival to her. 

Blood, bones, tears, and pain, it never mattered to you, yet it granted you a superior seat on the food chain.

You became the beast haunting everyone’s dreams. The shadow in their path.

Even so, the pain of other people could not relinquish your own. 

You burned every day and every second for twenty years, so you turned the world to ashes in kind.

———

Long ago, Cabaji found his captain on deck one night with a bottle nursed against his sternum, his back against the railing, and his knee propped up to rest his head on. He was drunk, and although it wasn’t an unusual occurrence on its own, it was still unnerving.

“Captain, you alright?”

“‘m fine,” Buggy answered tightly, lolling his head back and forth. It was dark outside, no moon, yet the first mate could spot the redness across the Captain’s cheeks. “What t- time is it?”

“Just past midnight.” Cabaji frowned at the pathetic display, and with some hesitance, crouched down so he could put a finger on the clown’s forehead. Holy shit, what a fever. “Captain… You’re burning.”

“Burning?!” Buggy wheezed, as if he’d been told the world’s funniest joke. He threw his arm out, bottle raised high, and repeated: “Burning? Oh, that’s just great! I never took you for a jester, Cabaji! That title’s usually reserved for yours flashy truly! You tryin’ to upstage your captain or something?”

“No, Captain.” His right-hand man lightly put his fingers on the clown’s forehead again, mindful of not letting them linger lest he wanted to lose them. “You’re seriously burning up. How long have you been out here?”

“Five minutes, an hour, fuck, twenty years perhaps!” Buggy took another sip of the half-empty bottle in his hold. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it did wonders for his mind. His troubled, asymmetrical library of a brain whose caretaker had long since abandoned their charge.

The jester leaned the back of his head against the hard surface of the railings, tipping the bottle carelessly to the side so that its content could spill onto the wooden floor without any concern. It stained his pants; he'd reek for days, but there was no urgency in ridding himself of the splotch. “How can I burn when there is no sun out, Cabaji? Answer me that.”

“I don’t understand… it’s the middle of the night, the sun will be back tomorrow.”

“MEH! WRONG!” He continued to laugh with no sense of humor. No joy. No nothing. Just hollow breaths meant to mimic his trademark sound. With no short amount of effort on his part, he almost tripped himself trying to get up to his feet. 

His next words almost struck the first mate as … hollow somehow.

“The sun stopped shining long ago.”

———

You can’t sleep, but it has nothing to do with the added weight on your abdomen. 

Buggy, even with his entity body stripped from him, feels heavy and sleeps soundly, and he snores. You can't help but marvel at the view, mindful of your movements as you do. 

He looks to be at peace, completely so. Content. You'd think that he'd be a bit more wary considering he's currently stuck on a ship with people who want nothing more than to throw him overboard, yet here he is.

He's here.

With gentle hands unbeknownst to you, you carefully pry him off of you and settle him back down once your body’s out of the hammock. 

He can rest, you think, and he does so like a newborn.

Even with your body no longer attached to him, you can’t help but marvel at the sight. His eyes are closed, breathing even, as though he’s completely at ease with the world. Light as a feather, you tug a strand of hair away from his eyes and resign yourself to a night of wandering to ease your nerves.

The air on deck is cold. You find Ussop leaned across the steering wheel, sound asleep. You have half a mind to scold him for his negligence, but the other half remind you that in essence, he’s still just a kid. He should rest as well.

So, you find a blanket and carefully pull it over him, hoping that the cold won’t catch him as easily as Arlong’s men probably will at one point.

The waters are calm as you lean over the railings to observe them. The moon isn’t full, but it still dons a soft light across the waters. You relish in the ambience the night sky grants, finding serenity in it all. 

“What’re you doing up?”

You snap your head down to find Buggy’s head poised next to your arms, having hopped over to you on the railing. He must’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, or maybe you had been uncharacteristically caught off-guard. 

He looks tired, but not disoriented as he props himself closer to you. If he’s moody from the lack of sleep, he doesn’t voice it.

“You’ll fall off,” you warn him.

“You can still swim, can’t you?” He points out. 

“What makes you think I’ll jump after you?”

“Won’t you?”

You glance back down at him, and you can vaguely spot an ounce of sincerity in his eyes; a genuine question that conceals the deep-rooted vulnerability underneath. It’s a rare look on him, or maybe it’s the hole of light in the sky playing tricks on your brain.

The two of you say nothing to each other for a while, but your eyes never shy away from each other. To be honest, you have no idea where this … this is headed. You’re not sure what to do about it either. Twenty years has left a gaping hole in your chest, akin to a supernova that swallows everything around it.

Turns out it will still consume any scraps of your youthful affection too, and you can’t tell if it fills the hole up or further deepens the void. You’re not sure you want to know.

“You should head back inside,” you finally say. “It’s cold outside.”

“So what?”

“Being a head surely leaves you at a disadvantage against the elements, does it not?”

If he had shoulders, he’d shrug, but he makes a pretty good imitation of it with just his head alone. “Dunno, but I don’t care.”

“You don’t want to catch pneumonia and die or something, do you?” I

t wasn’t meant as a joke at first, but the moment he hears it, a snnnrrrrrk develops into full-blown laughter that’s a hair width away from waking your crew members.

You don’t know what possesses you, but hearing him laugh like this, so genuinely, conjures a laugh of your own. It’s more hushed and subtle in comparison to your companion, but it’s there and it feels so strange to have it erupt from your chest. 

When was the last time you laughed? 

After a while, your combined laughter gradually quietens and when you look at Buggy next, you see him with eyes the size of plates, like he couldn’t believe what he just witnessed. Not in an alarming way, but in … adoration. Just unadulterated, complete awe.

For some reason, it pains you to have him look at you like this. After all this time. So, you turn your head back to the sea and let your gaze linger there again. You’re reminded that, like the waves, you can’t go back to how it used to be.

“When you’ve retrieved your body, you can go.”

Buggy freezes. "... What?"

"Once you get your body back, you can leave. I'll tell the crew you disappeared." 

It'll be easier for the both of you, you justify. He can get back to being Captain Buggy, and you can go back to being ... someone. 

You're no longer a captain, and you have no interest in playing the part again. He'll have his freedom, and you'll have your contentment in knowing that you have once more gotten to look him in the eyes.

It’ll hurt, but pain is an old friend.

He doesn't say anything for the longest time, but you can hear the cogs churning in his brain. "You mean ... You don't want to go with me, after all this time?"

You glance over your shoulder to the door to the kitchen area. "I ... Care much for the boy, and I know you tend to carry grudges. I don't intend to be involved with that."

"You don't have to be!" Buggy insists, almost urgently, like he's afraid you'll leave on the dot. "You can stay with me, and whatever business I have with the rubbery pri-... I- I mean, the kid, I'll keep it to myself."

You spend a second looking down at him, scrutinizing him of any signs that he's being false, before you avert your gaze back to the waves. Truth be told, you've never thought much of what to do once you left Luffy's crew. 

As far as you're concerned, you don't have anywhere to go back to. Maybe you'll return to Foosha village, pay Makino a visit, or maybe you'll become a wayward at sea. Make coin where you can, visit Shanks sometime?

But joining Buggy?

Now that's a thought you never believed would cross your head for a long time.

"I won't be a good circus performer," you admit.

He makes a pfsssssh sound, tongue waggling out of his mouth. "'Course you'd be! The strongest woman in all of East-Blue! People will bankrupt themselves just to see you in action! C'mon, just think about it!"

You bury the urge to remind him that if anyone will commit any bankrupting, it'll be him. Joining Buggy's crew, after so long? A part of you thinks that it can open a window of opportunity to provide closure. Grant him a chance to make up for his misdeeds.

Another part reminds you that the pain he once brought caused you two decades of misery, so why give him the opportunity to attempt the same once more? In all your life, only he’s ever possessed the power to render you so small. 

You might be among the strongest pirates across the seas, but someone always held you by a leash; dragged you, pulled you into every direction, and demanded your obedience. Rogers freed you from the leash altogether, but Buggy remains the only person you freely gave your leash to. You gave it to him, and he let it go.

Are you willing to hand it back to him, knowing what happened last time?

How does the saying go? 

Bite you once and twice, shame and all that.

"We should head back inside."

———

Coco Village, you think, is a lonely place; void of life; desolate. It reminds you of where you originally came from before Rogers brought you onto his crew all those years ago. A hollow replica of how it used to be.

A feeling of cold stretches across your skin at the memory of it all, like a layer of frost having come back to torment you. 

You glance around at the halfway-demolished huts, and you see its denizens with nothing behind their eyes. Whatever hope once resided in their hearts abandoned them long ago. It brings you no joy, but it doesn’t necessarily bring you any melancholy either.

It is not your sorrow to bear.

Nojiko’s cabin, on the other hand, seems like a pleasant reprieve. It’s not much, but judging by the delicate way she handles herself and her equipment, it’s a home.

A home hanging on a thread from Arlong’s pointy nose.

While Sanji’s helping Nojiko clean the plates, you’re seated across from Usopp, with Buggy’s head poised between you on top of the table. Wherever Luffy and Zoro are outside, you’re certain they’re concocting some sort of plan to get Nami out. 

It’ll be the first time he’ll have to make up a thorough plan, rather than making it up as he goes as he’s done so far.

You’re curious as to how it’ll go, though you’ll follow nonetheless. Your presence here with them depends on whether he’ll make it, and if he does, you’ll finally part ways.

You love Luffy, almost more than you’ve loved anyone else in your entire life. You were there to watch him grow, you were there to patch him up, to make sure he had food when Makino couldn’t afford to spare any. 

You love his hair, his eyes, the way his smile all but brightens up any dark corner in any room. You love him so much so that you’ll leave the moment you know he doesn’t need you anymore.

The thought, while maintaining a rooted spot in your brain, lessens your appetite and causes you to play with the food on your plate. It’s long since grown cold in your negligence.

Suddenly, a loud "BOOM!!" promptly snaps you out of your mindscape and back to reality. Buggy cackles, and although you're not the intended target of his joke, it still irks you to some limited extent.

"Can you just be quiet?"

"Aw, come on. Where's the fun in that?" There's a malicious glint in the clown's eye. "Do you really think your little toys can get through the skin of a fish-man?"

You have to commend Usopp for his resilience. "These are smoke bombs."

"Smoke. That's rich..." Trailing off, Buggy eyes your meal with the subtlety of a puppy looking for scraps, licking his chapped lips. "Makes me think of how long it's been since I've had any smoked fish." 

You spare him a wayward glance, fork ceasing its massacre of the flesh on your plate. Usopp notices the change almost instantaneously as he tinkers with his makeshift bomb.

The reply from the slingshot is quick. “Don’t give it to him.”

“As opposed to what?” You quirk an unbothered eyebrow. “Let Sanji’s meal go to waste?”

“Eat it yourself, then! You’ve hardly had any!”

“I’m not particularly hungry at the moment, and it’s either the trash or the clown.”

Usopp scoffs. “Like there’s a difference.”

“HEY! I’M RIGHT HERE, ASSHAT!”

Sanji perks up at the commotion and looks at you from over his shoulder, hands still wet from the washing. “I do hope you’re not discussing the possibility of discarding my food. Not when Nojiko has been so lenient as to lend us the necessary ingredients?”

Usopp shakes his head. “It’s worse! She wants to give it to the fucking clown!”

Sanji glances at you, and he speaks in that soft tone he primarily reserves for the women in his company. “Was my meal not to your satisfaction, Madam?” 

You incline your head to him in a way that’s meant to convey approval. “It was, make no mistake of it, but I’m afraid that my appetite is rather lacking at the moment.”

Buggy looks between the two of you, and his mood sours considerably. It’s as though a fire is burning in the back of the room, and the scorch threatens to incinerate the furniture and all the people inside. He halfway hopes it will, but although his Devil Fruit has granted him a plethora of powers people can only hope to dream of, prokinetics are evidently out of his reach.

No one notices, however.

Then, a minute goes by, and Sanji finally shrugs. “As much as I can’t condone Usopp’s anger, I can’t condone a good meal being wasted. Do with it as you please, my lady.”

Buggy guffaws while Usopp pales, but your face stays the way it’s always done. If anyone were to notice the way you discreetly inch the plate towards Buggy, they keep their opinions to themselves. 

If Buggy stares at you like you hung the moon and the sun in the sky, you keep your observations to yourself.

You don’t say a word, but you want to say a lot. 

You wish to say more than you've ever said before.

But you don’t.

———

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat , @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore, @knightsfavoriteprincess, @asterizee, @aamethyst23, @lizzie1107, @cyberwears, @heylookliisten, @f41k47, @beep-beep1, @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts, @rayleeya, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @fanshavegottensotoxic, @fluffybunnyu, @sirenmelody23, @neenieweenie, @kassandrasowl, @matthewjstarling, @fisshil

(If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

[short-honey-badger]

Not all good comes to those who wait

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy talk and pretty sensitive subjects. Hurt/Comfort and angst. Ectopic pregnancy. You can scroll if this is too much for you.

This is something for me personally to try and get over what's been going on in my life. In the past three months, my relationship almost ended, we got evicted, and as soon as we got moved, I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of October. Last week, I found out it was an ectopic pregnancy, and I've just... not been the same since. But I miss you guys so much, so this is me trying to get past my shitty brain block the best way I know how.

Shanks knows that there is something going on when Trafalgar D. Water Law's face dims in silent sympathy while doing your evaluation. You are only a couple of weeks pregnant, having found out when you couldn't keep any of your food down over a couple of days at the beginning of the month. You had come to him with a bright smile on your beautiful face, hand held protectively over your stomach and the growing bean inside as you quietly told him the good news.

It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. The two of you would hide away in his cabin, whispering sweet words to one another while Shanks held your still-flat belly. He doted on whatever you needed, making sure that you would be comfortable and safe for the duration of your pregnancy. To make sure all went well, he had contacted the Surgeon of Death and asked if Law could come on board and give you a check-up.

With the use of his devil fruit, Law could see that the embryo had not implanted in the correct spot in your womb like it should have been. Instead, it had planted itself in your right fallopian tube. He shucked his latex gloves off and eyed you and the red-haired captain.

You could see the look on his face, and your heart plummets when you catch your lover reaching out to curl his hand around your wrist, squeezing softly as he asks Law what was going on.

Trafalgar clears his throat, tone soft as he locks eyes with you and explains what had happened. Law explains that this is an ectopic pregnancy. That the embryo isn't viable with it having attached to the incorrect part of your body and that the best course of action for your heath would be for him to remove it. He tells you that it is nothing that you have done, that it's simply a freak accident that could happen to anyone. You listen with cotton between your ears, heart shattering, not just for the bean inside you, but for yourself and Shanks.

The excitement you had felt with the check-up plummets into dispare, and you don't realize that you're crying until Shanks slips his hand from your wrist and gently wipes the tears from your cheeks. Law leaves the room to you and your lover, and you stare at him with fearful eyes.

"I don't...was it my fault? What..?"

Shanks immediately pulls you close and into his chest, lips pressed against the crown of your head as he fights back the feeling of tears gathering in his eyes. His own heart is breaking, fear and worry breaking out, and feeling heavy in his chest. He wants to rage and cry at the sea, demand why his amazing darling couldn't have the one thing the two of them had been so excited for. But you don't need that right now. You need him to he strong, so he would be.

"None of its your fault, baby," He whispers furiously and clutches you tighter when you turn to bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking as sobs begin to overwhelm you. You wrap an arm around your stomach, grief clouding your brain for a child that you would never get the chance to know.

"I've got you, baby. Whatever happens, I'll never let you go," Shanks whispers, and you latch onto his words, eyes clenched shut in pain. You listen to him whisper sweet reassurances and know that slowly, and with time, that you would be okay.

You pull away just enough that Shanks can dip down and seal his lips over your own, his lashes wet with unshed tears. He would make sure that you would pull through. He would be the rock that you needed.

*Ectopic pregnancies are tough, and I hope that this can help someone else know that none of it is your fault. If there is anyone out there that just needs a shoulder to cry on or a kind word, please feel free to message me.*

[irisintheafterglow]

Until You Come Back Home (gojo x you)

summary: you call his name enough times that he does, indeed, come back home.

wc: 1.76k

cw/tags: angst/comfort, happy ending !!!, lovesick reader and lovesick satoru, mentions of suguru and riko so anime spoilers, pet names (sweetheart, angel, babe)

note: RAHHHH HERE IT IS HE'S BACK last part of "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" !!! this is my coping mechanism before, during, and after shibuya cuz i plan ahead, yk? anyways hope you like it :D

likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated !

It’s quiet in your room, too unsettling for it to be considered peaceful. You toss around in your covers and count sheep until you’re well past 200 to no avail. It just felt like something was missing and you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. The room felt humongous and claustrophobic at the same time, too hot to wear blankets but too cold to have your skin exposed. Every single one of your senses was irritated to its limit and you settled for taking a walk to get water. However, you’re surprised to find that you’re not the only one feeling restless. 

“Satoru?” 

You see him tilt his head to look at you in the darkness of the teachers’ common area. His legs are crossed over each other and he rests his chin in the heel of his hand. Rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his half-unzipped jacket, he gives you a tired smile as you sit on the coffee table in front of him. The bags under his eyes are deep enough to bury a treasure chest. You don’t ask if he wants to talk, instead reaching out to take his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles. It’s just something friends do, you reason. No feelings involved with this kind of physical touch, right? After a moment, he shrugs a lean shoulder with a ragged breath, once-vibrant eyes now dulled. 

“Bad dream woke me up. Thought it’d be better to have a change of scenery.” His voice has none of its melodic lilt that you’d grown to love since you both were students, and it makes your face fall. You had very limited knowledge of his nightmares, but to find him staring off into space at the earliest hours of the morning was especially concerning. It was frightening, sometimes, to be Satoru’s closest remaining friend. Witnessing the strongest sorcerer at his weakest was a frequent occurrence for you, however much he tried to appear unbreakable to the rest of society. It was even more frightening to walk this line with him between friends and lovers, to gamble your feelings on a human with the powers of a god. “Do you remember Riko?” 

“Of course I do. As vividly as I remember him, too.” You don’t speak the name of his best friend turned murderer, for your sake and for Satoru’s. It was a stab to the heart you weren’t ready for. “The dream was about them?”

“Mhmm. Just reliving it all again.”

“You’re sort of doing that now, sitting here like a guard at his post.” 

“That’s the point, babe.”

“The point is hurting you, Satoru.” His hair seems almost iridescent in the moonlight when he shakes his head. 

“What are you doing awake, anyway? Missed me so much you couldn’t sleep?” He was baiting you to change the subject and, to your dismay, you bite. 

“Bold of you to assume I miss you at all,” you state flatly, dropping his hand dramatically. He exhales a quiet laugh, leaning his head on his hand to stare at you with those stupidly pretty blue eyes. 

“Liar. You’re the first one I see after every mission, even when I’m not looking for you.” Your mouth quirks at his slip. 

“You search for me after missions?” It makes your heart a little lighter to see some of the twinkle come back into his eyes when he smiles softly. “You’re lying now. Look at your smirk,” you say, flicking his knee lightly. It’s purposeful, you think, when you feel the fabric of his sweatpants brush your hand. He never turned on Infinity if it was you. 

“Believe whatever you want to believe; but, fact is, we’re really good at running into each other.” He leans back in the armchair, raising both hands in surrender. He sighs, looking out at the moonlit courtyard below. “Even right now.” The corner of his mouth quirks teasingly and his eyes flick back to you. “Guess you always know when to find me when I need you, huh?” What is usually a heated face and a rapid heartbeat is replaced by a comforting warmth enveloping your entire body as you nod in agreement. Your mouth opens into a large yawn and you’re reminded how early it is. “I'm fine. Go back to sleep.”

“No.”

“Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Would you listen if I told you to go back to sleep?” He frowns, staring out the window again in reluctance. Before you speak again, he gives the tiniest shake of his head, imperceptible if you weren’t already staring at him. I can’t. He’s scared to fall asleep again, you figure, like when Megumi was younger and would crawl into your bed in the middle of the night. You huff, running your tongue over your top lip thoughtfully before plopping onto the couch perpendicular to his armchair. He glances at you, puzzled, and you settle into the cushions determinedly. “If you’re anxious of what can happen while you’re asleep, I’ll keep watch and wake you if something happens.” His face contorts to protest but you’re quick to cut him off. “Please, rest. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” 

You don’t really remember much after that. In the morning, you find yourself in Satoru’s bed with his arms curled around you. His face is buried in your shoulder, the blankets are twisted around your legs and his, and you have to blow a few white hairs from your face, but it doesn’t matter. It’s peaceful, and he’s asleep with his forehead against your neck. When you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair and rub his back with the other hand, he sighs and melts more into your body. It’s a position you became much more familiar with when you officially started dating. It was natural to hold him, to wait for him, to love him. Sometimes, when he returned from a mission and you were already asleep, your body would move on its own to embrace him as he slipped into the sheets. Over time, his name fell from your lips as easily as breathing. 

You would whisper it sleepily, in a hazy trance between sleeping and waking. “Hi, gorgeous,” he replies against your temple, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin. “Miss me?” 

You called it over and over, slightly out of breath after you sprint from one end of the school to the other, Shoko texting you that he was returning after a months-long mission. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” he murmurs in your ear, picking you up and spinning you around like a romcom movie. 

You’ve screamed it, occasionally, on the days when being in love with a fallen god became too much to bear and he told you to leave, if you couldn’t stand him that much. The romcom side of your relationship certainly appeared during those days, as it seemed to rain the hardest when he was standing outside your door and begging you to come back to his room. It wasn’t perfect, being with Satoru, but neither was he. That alone kept you coming back and calling his name like a mantra.

It’s the only thing you’re able to say when you see him for the first time since his unsealing.

You see him with Yuuji and Yuta in the courtyard, the same courtyard he looked at all those nights ago. Your breath catches in your throat when you finally register the afternoon sun glinting off of his hair. Though your brain was firing off a million signals in a span of seconds, it feels physically impossible to form words, to breathe, to run. Your body and mind push against each other for control, one completely frozen while the other is running so many trains of thought they’re all crashing disastrously. You swallow and take a few cautious steps down the stairs. His head snaps in your direction. 

“Satoru?”

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, alive and breathing despite the newly healed scars. You cup his face in your hands ever so gently, as if he’d shatter if you weren’t careful. The warm feeling of his skin beneath the pads of your fingers told you that he was real, that he was here. He’s there to catch you when your legs give out and you sink to the ground with him, inhaling him for the first time in weeks that felt like centuries. His arms were just as strong as you willed yourself to remember and just as firm as if you were the one who came back from a lethal assignment. 

“My angel,” he murmurs into your skin. Devotion drips from his words like honey. “How did you know where to find me?” You choke out a half-laugh, half-cry and smile against his chest, more at ease than you’ve felt in your entire life. 

“We’re just really good at running into each other.” He laughs, genuinely laughs and it feels like a thirty pound weight is instantly lifted from your shoulders. 

“We are, aren’t we?”

“Can we have that rager wedding now?” You were beaming at him, basking in his light and slowly tracing your fingers over his scars. It was just another part of him for you to memorize. 

“I thought you denied me my rager wedding.” His accusation is whispered right into your ear and the hair on the back of your neck stands up from the close proximity. “I was heartbroken, truly.”

“If it means keeping you forever, I’ll have a hundred rager weddings,” you promise. In true Satoru fashion, however, he still likes to push your buttons whenever he has a chance. 

“What if it’s two hundred?” He smirks and you roll your eyes, unable to stop smiling nonetheless. 

“That’s pushing it.”

“Fine,” he concedes, pressing one more kiss to your cheek. “One will do. We don’t even have to buy a house.”

“Why not?”

“Because wherever I’m with you, I’m–” 

“Already home. I get it.” He draws his mouth into a frustrated grimace. 

“You didn’t let me finish my sappy line.”

“You’ll have to come up with better than that if you want to truly have that rager wedding.”

“It’s good that I like a challenge, then,” he states before picking you up clear off the ground, one arm slung under your legs and the other supporting your back. He calls out something to his students behind you that you can’t hear, escorting you back to his bed and resting, truly resting, for the first time in ages. 

[merakiui]

Mera, I'm going to need to hear (a lot) more about your reverse harem otome game thoughts. So... give us some imagines about your favorite characters there!

Oooo there are so many thoughts I have regarding it!!! Allow me to share them below. :D

To start, I imagine it’s a little awkward for you because in your world they’re just characters in a game, so for a while you have to follow the plot and avoid saying anything that may raise eyebrows or evoke suspicion (i.e. you have to live through the game’s events as they happen so you can avoid ruining any of the canon events that must take place in order for appropriate character development and whatnot). But also it’s fun to imagine a reader who is awkwardly trying to avoid raising the romance meters and just wants to enjoy school life with Grim. Alas, that will never be the case, not in this otome! >_<

For a reader who has arrived to twst with the burden of an arranged marriage waiting at home, it may be a little stressful to suddenly find yourself in the middle of a reverse harem romance. Maybe you don’t put forth much effort because you’re more interested in exploring the school and the island itself, but in classic otome logic you keep ending up in all kinds of situations with them. Maybe you don’t want to get too attached to anyone because you’re not sure what will happen once you’re sent home, if such a thing is even possible. It’s not like you can just bring him back to your world to get your parents off your back. But then friendship is a dangerous line to tread because it won’t lead to fluffy and sugary-sweet outcomes. You have to stay within the romance parameters. Too low and he’ll snap. Too high and he’ll snap. So to remain in the middle, you do your best to navigate interactions with ease. You don’t even try to impress, and yet he’s charmed by you.

It's also fun to imagine that the romance starts innocent and sweet at first, but then one of the characters says something about how he'd keep you locked up if he could and then you realize, "Oh, so it's a romance like this..." ^^;;;;;;

Riddle is difficult to romance. Pre-Overblot, that is. Every minor infraction, every instance he catches you with your uniform worn askew, and every moment he sees you associating with the troublemaker that is Ace puts your score in the negatives. Riddle’s more prone to snapping at you when his score is so dreadfully low, vicious and cold as he lays down the Heartslabyul law. You’re collared on many occasions. After his Overblot, he’s softer (especially on you) and it’s very easy to curry favor with him. The smallest things have his romance bar rising, such as when you compliment him or remind him that he’s doing well. You think Riddle struggles with romance because his meter rises and falls often, most likely due to his own uncertainty with this subject. He’s not someone you’d classify as an inherently dangerous love interest. Although he does get immensely controlling and obsessive if the score surpasses its peak.

Trey is a difficult character to read. His meter almost never goes up. At least, you never see it go up with your own eyes. It’s usually after the interaction. You meet again and the bar may have gone up a few points since your last meeting. You suspect Trey loves in secret, coveting from afar. The score rises considerably when you bake with him or when you try his sweets. It’s not wise to fall into this habit because trusting Trey is not a good idea. Keep eating his cooking and you might just find yourself waking up in his room, with Trey sitting nearby and explaining that you “fainted.” There’s more behind that placating smile he shows everyone… He’s prone to gaslighting you terribly if his score peaks, and it’s done out of some twisted form of love. After all, you can trust and rely on someone friendly and reliable like Trey!

Cater’s meter seems broken most days. Sometimes it never budges an inch, remaining at zero. But there are moments where it spikes high, so high it felt like a slap the first time you saw it happen. You never know what the catalyst is for this strange score-spiking. Is Cater truly interested in you, or is he just using the new magic-less student from another world to gain Magicam clout? But then his score always rises when he’s taking photos of you. Maybe there’s more to him than you’ll ever know. Cater is so mysterious. He acts like a bestie, but that unpredictable score of his says otherwise. It’s hard to say whether he’s dangerous or not, but if his score strays too high he may become just a little unstable. :)

Deuce’s meter fills fast. He can’t help falling for you. You’re more than a friend or a best friend. That much is obvious when his bar remains nearly filled the longer you spend hanging out with him. It’s easy for Deuce to love you because he’s been with you since the very beginning, and the two of you attend class together. For this reason, he’s very overprotective of you, occasionally reverting back to his delinquent ways if some guys give you trouble. He tries to avoid this, but if his score is beyond the healthy amount then it happens more often.

Ace is another character who is always in close proximity with you. Like Deuce, he grows closer with you throughout the happenings in the main story. And even outside of that, he continues to attend class and hang out with you. You see a lot of Ace, not only because he's a classmate but also a friend. Ace's romance bar doesn't fluctuate often, and in the beginning stages of your friendship it remains relatively low. But by Scarabia's book, when he and Deuce travel all the way back after getting your SOS text, his bar's score has increased. It seems over the winter break Ace managed to sort out his feelings, and from there he is always bickering with Deuce over little things regarding you.

Leona's bar never budges, mostly because he rarely gets caught up in romantic moments with you. But there have been a few rare happenings. You can never tell what goes through the lion prince's head. Sometimes you impress him, but then he says it's only because no herbivore can possibly be as gullible as you. Yet, oddly enough, there's fondness hidden behind the layers in his words. Once he pat you on the head, muttering some sort of compliment, and then he paused, lifted his hand, and looked at it so strangely. You tease him for it and he scoffs and tells you you're lucky his claws weren't out. Unlikely story, Leona. :) and as he walks away, you spot the meter filling ever so slightly.

Ruggie can't take anything you say or do at face value because he's certain you have some ulterior motive. So when you offer part of your lunch to him or offer to help him with running errands for Leona, he tries to turn you down. Just what is with you and being so good? He doesn't trust that. There must be some other reason you keep offering... But he finds that he doesn't hate your company and it's actually quite enjoyable to have someone to talk to when he's busy with errands. That, and you somehow keep up with his pace. Before he realizes, he's falling. Fast. And it's this sudden, whirlwind attachment that leaves you with a starstruck Ruggie, whose affection meter rises quickly.

Jack is difficult to romance in the beginning. Unlike some of the other characters who warm up to you rather quickly, Jack keeps his distance. Very much a classic lone wolf type. But once he gets to know you better and the two of you reach a level in which you can consider one another friends, he starts to fall for you. Jack is innocent in his affections. He looks out for you and is the first to defend you when anyone gives you trouble. He's teased for acting like a loyal puppy in love, which flusters him greatly, but Jack really does want to protect you and help you out. His romance meter increases in very small increments, but it's clear that he has quite the soft spot for you. He's one of the few characters with a mostly fluffy route.

Azul keeps his heart guarded, so naturally it’ll be a challenge to raise his romance meter. According to canon, he’s interested in you for two main reasons: you’re not from this world and he wants to use Ramshackle as a branch café. Throughout the happenings of book three, where you scheme against him to save your friends (Ace and Deuce’s bars rise because of your efforts) and the rest of the students from eternal servitude, Azul starts to harbor an interest. By the end of the book, when you have a heartfelt one-on-one chat with him in the Atlantica museum, he’s smitten. From then on, his bar is prone to rising and crashing just as fast. Being apart from you seems to have effects on the score, and he has a nasty jealousy streak.

Jade is another character who is difficult to read even with the romance meter. For the time that you know him, it never goes up or down, remaining somewhere between zero and five at most. He is very difficult to romance, namely because he seems to foil every cliché that comes your way. Forgot an umbrella? That's fine; he'll just cast a spell to protect you and him from the rain. Not enough money for lunch? That's unfortunate (for you). If you're truly desperate, you can make a deal with Azul. Bumped into him in the hall? Unlikely. He side-steps you just before you can collide, which leaves you falling face-first on the tile. You were ready to cross him out on your list solely because he feels like an impossible route, but one day you mention something about one of his interests and Jade perks up, his meter filling considerably. Like most of the cast, he wants you all to himself. But then he's also willing to make an exception and share you with Floyd.

Floyd's score starts at the very middle. Even when you meet him and he calls you Shrimpy for the first time, the meter has already filled. It's easy for Floyd to get attached, but it's dangerous because regardless of how high or low the meter is he's still quite obsessed with you. He shows up whenever he wants, sometimes at Ramshackle just to lounge around. His behavior is always sporadic; you get used to his unpredictability. When Floyd's in a bad mood, his score tends to diminish. It's not usually your fault; maybe Floyd saw you with some other students and got jealous. There are a variety of explanations, really. Most days, his meter is overfilled and so as a result he's more prone to picking fights to protect you or monopolizing your time by scaring others off. Like a leech, he clings to you.

Kalim feels like a love at first sight type! He thinks you're so darling the moment he meets you, and he's already wanting to spoil you. Despite his outgoing nature, his bar doesn't seem to rise much. Maybe it's just because he's so overly friendly with everyone that he's yet to see you in that way. But after more than enough romance moments between the both of you, he's wholeheartedly in love. He's the most obvious with his feelings and intentions, but then with the meters it becomes clear to you how everyone feels about you and where they currently stand on a scale. orz but Kalim is different in that he has no shame or embarrassment in approaching you outright to shower you in expensive gifts. He means well, but he doesn't realize just how much he's spoiling you. Although it is nice to be doted on to such an expensive degree.

Jamil is another character whose feelings are tough to read from the romance meter alone. It hardly rises; in fact, you think his score may be in the negatives. For the longest time you think he dislikes you solely because Kalim likes you and that makes his job harder when he has to prepare feast after feast for you. But after you tell Jamil to relax or offer your help or even explain that you don't need an entire feast, he starts to slowly, very slowly, warm up to you. You make the mistake of telling him he'll always be important to someone and that he should just do his best regardless of what others say—that he shouldn't have to diminish his capabilities or qualities just to let someone else overshadow him—and that's the arrow through his heart. Maybe you aren't as bad as he once thought...

Vil is a challenge. He has standards, and when you first meet him he compares you to an unwashed spud. It's clear that if you ever want to pursue a route with Vil you'll have to do something to catch his eye or earn his approval. The two of you likely grow somewhat close during the VDC and even more so during the happenings of book six. Outside of those main story events, you occasionally cross paths with Vil and sometimes you'll talk briefly. These interactions stick with Vil even after you've parted ways, and without even realizing it you occupy his thoughts. He's never had anything like this happen (at least, not when it comes to romantic interests), and if you're able to capture his attention so suddenly like this it must mean something. What that something is, whether love or otherwise, he will find out. And his romance meter will gradually rise as he does so. :)

Rook is a strange case. Everything he says sounds like it comes from an otome, but this sort of romantic flair is normal for the eccentric Rook Hunt. Though it's difficult to understand him and his real feelings, his romance meter is surprisingly honest and, unsurprisingly, just as shameless. It usually spikes when he's observing you from afar or if he's interacting with you in class. Rook is just so fascinated with you. You truly are curious, capturing so many hearts and seeming so unfazed. Just how do you do it? It's quite beautiful! He's already quite obsessive; if anything, the rise in his romance meter just makes him worse.

Epel thinks you're a godsend. You're the first person who didn't call him cute at first meeting! This automatically earns you points, and since he's also a first year like Ace and Deuce you'll likely hang out with him more often. The same applies to the other first years. Epel's interest in you stems from admiration. He genuinely thinks you're a really cool person, and the more time he spends with you, getting to know you and such, the more he falls. He's hoping to win your heart! Although with so many others also vying for your attention, it's a challenge he's determined to undertake.

Idia is difficult to romance only because he never leaves his room, so despite the lack of interaction he's been watching you from the very beginning. His romance meter is stubborn because he can't possibly fathom liking someone who isn't 2D, and yet here he is, salivating over you like you're a rare item in a game. ^^;;; Idia builds up his ideal version of you in his head, which is the only reason that meter rises at all. Of course he absolutely fails talking to you in person, for he's much too shy and anxious to approach you. You actually steal his heart when you smile at him while he talks to you through the text-to-speech program on his tablet. And then you say, "We can start small. Don't push yourself to do something you're not comfortable with." And omg he's going crazy. Who allowed you to say something so cool and so nice and so sweet?! >_< he's overheating because he's so shocked... orz

Malleus is a character who feels like the otome's endgame. He's charmed shortly after your first meeting. It's as if he was destined to fall for you with how quickly his romance meter fills. Despite his sweet and seemingly innocent affections, most of which are friendly because romance is very new to him, your romance moments with him only bring the two of you closer together. You spend a long time in the friend zone because Malleus mistakes every little gesture as something platonic or friendly. He's a little romantically dense at times, so you can never tell if his meter is filling because he likes you as a friend or something more than that. Don't be fooled, though. As sweet as he seems, Malleus is overwhelmed with the instinct to keep you close and forever his. Call it a dragon's nature to hoard or his own fear of being lonely again, but he can't let you go.

Lilia's romance bar remains relatively low because he's more like a spontaneous event. He pops up so randomly, so every encounter with him really does feel like fate. Lilia likely knows of you because you're the human Malleus has been spending time with, and he's so very fond of you. You'll just never know this because it's impossible to know what he thinks of you when he's so mysterious and vague in how he speaks sometimes. But you do have prior knowledge about Lilia (and all of the other characters from playing twst in your world) and so it's not so surprising to suddenly find yourself in an encounter with him. His romance meter usually rises when he sees or hears of how kind you've been to Malleus, Silver, and Sebek. You're just the sweetest. He adores you (too much).

Silver is the princely type! Your meeting is a typical otome cliché: he's sleeping and wakes up to you standing over him, and the sun shines down on you at just the right angle, which makes you look breathlessly angelic. And...he falls right back asleep, so you end up having to drag him to class so he won't be late. Perhaps that last part isn't very romantic, but Silver is quite touched by your kindness and also apologetic for causing you such trouble. To make it up to you, he wants to do a favor for you, only you insist he doesn't have to. He ends up sticking near you for the entire day until you finally give him something to do so he can repay your kindness. orz and afterwards, his romance meter has risen. <3

Sebek is another difficult route, mainly because of his devotion to Malleus and Lilia. He's very focused on becoming the best possible royal guard, and so it seems like he wants nothing to do with you. He makes it quite clear with how huffy he gets, always calling you "human" and not by your actual name. His romance meter never moves an inch up. If anything, it remains abysmally low. However, the more time you spend with Sebek, constantly correcting him with "It's (Name), not human!" and insisting you and Malleus are only friends when he accuses you of spending so much time with Malleus (which really only happens by chance, mostly), he begins to see new sides of you. Without realizing it, adoration blossoms amidst the many arguments he has with you.

[mangomode]

[Authors note - I found this in my drafts and decided to publish it cos I'm never gonna finish it. I'd appreciate any sort of feedback! Seriously, Tumblr notifications fill me with unbridled joy.]

Camping!!

Rise Raphael X GN!Reader

(Self-deprecation, teasing, implied romantic feelings, the very slightest bit of suggestiveness at the end <- does it even count? Idk)

Raphael sits next to you at the campfire, impaling a marshmallow with a roasting stick as he distractedly sings along to the music coming from Leo's speaker. The night is serene. A slight breeze ruffles the green grass and leaves around you all, and the stars and moon bathe everything in a silver light. The fire sparks and crackles. 

Raph had pulled up a chair to sit next to you, even though he could have sat anywhere. Is that a sign? You glance at him nervously and look away just as quick. He doesn't notice, doesn't look at you with those big kind eyes of his. Hopeful expectancy, that's how he always looks at you. Like you're about to do a backflip or solve world hunger. You wonder if he finds himself disappointed when you're nothing special.

"Y/N? You good? You don't seem to be having fun." He snaps you out of your thoughts. His eyes look good in the firelight, and the corners of his mouth turns down in a worried frown that almost catches you off guard, or it would, if he wasn't so much of a sweetheart. It's been a while since he spoke. You can't just keep admiring him. You need to reply. 

"Oh, um, no, I'm fine. Just lost in thought, zoning out. I tend to just stare into the fire and lose track of everything, you know?" You laugh, ha-ha, convincing, right? 

He hands you a s'more, the marshmallow exactly how you like it, and you manage a small genuine smile that he returns. "Thanks, Raph..." 

"It's no problem." He grins. "Man, it's nice that we get to be out in the open like this, without being too worried about being seen." 

"I hope Splinter's ok." You say between bites of the delicious treat. 

Donnie answers. "He'll be fine, I have S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. catering to his every desire." 

"He's probably passed out on the couch as usual." Leo chuckles, his usual smirk accentuated in the firelight. Everyone laughs a little. "Not to change the subject, but where's your tent, Raph? It's not exactly where you left it, you know..."

Leonardo gives the most shit-eating grin, and Raphael looks so distressed that you look to where his tent used to be, and, low and behold, it wasn't there anymore. Raph is very audible, although he doesn't say anything at all, it's mostly stuttering and struggling to respond. His brothers laugh. 

"How is that funny?" You almost laugh. It sounds like such a ridiculous think to laugh at. You look at Raph curiously.

"I-its just, um... y-you know... it could be dangerous out here! W-wolves and stuff! So I just, uh, just thought that maybe you shouldn't be all by yourself! Is... is all..." Raph makes out, visible sweating, causing his brothers to laugh. You can't tell if it's the orange firelight or his blush, and you hope it's the same for you, because you can faintly see his tent in the distant darkness; a few feet from yours. "You could get ramshackle-d!" He finishes.

"I do not think you even know what ramshackle means." Donnie looks at Raph with an expression of annoyance, and Mikey responds. 

"Y/N seems like the kinda guy that would get ramshackle-d!"

"Man, I'll ramshackle your face!" You laugh, very grateful for the relief of awkwardness and glance at Raph, who looks absolutely anxious. You stare at him for a second. "It's getting late, I think I'll turn in now. Night, guys." 

You walk into the dark, the chorus of "good nights" following you before the only sound you can hear is the crunching of rocks under your feet and Leo's annoying voice faintly saying, "I think your girlfriend wants you to go to bed now, Raph." 

You blush and shake your head. Leo is a jerk, that much is certain. As for the rest of it...

[swampstew]

UNI REVERSE I LOVE U

Fic authors self rec! When you receive this, reply with up to five favorite fics you've written (include links, and if you want- a few thoughts about each one), then pass on to at least five other writers if you're up for it. Spread the self-love ✨

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAndie! I can't believe you've done this. Well, I did one version of this where I talked about my pretty much all my fics - however, this will go a little more detailed with other things I've done :)

Captain Kid's Fiery Passion - !Yandere Kid. I really enjoyed exploring a darker, crueler Kid that would take reader with no hesitation. I know I only scratched the surface of 'dark fic' with this one, but part of me is entirely too hung up on Kid being an actual cinnamon roll to his beloved that I can't really imagine him being mean mean. That doesn't mean the inspiration isn't there. I have plenty of questionable scenarios I'd like to write out, and my only fear is accidentally triggering myself XD

Spoiling Killer - this is my guilty pleasure. Subjecting my comfort characters to simple pleasures. I can't help writing rottingly fluffy stuff. It's my nature. And I'll do it again too. I won't stop until every crew member is given the pampering they deserve.

Meet the Kid Pirates series - Heat the HR Director and emotional support human! - We know SO LITTLE about this crew and their roles so I decided to make up roles and titles. IF we ever get canonized information, I will update these. However, this was meant to just be fun head canonning :) I was going to do every crew member but after...THAT...chapter, I was too depressed to continue. Still kinda am. BUT FRET NOT - I DO INTEND TO FINISH THIS! and also do the Straw Hats section. In time in time.

Ok, I know I said I was gonna limit this to the drabbles, BUT I JUST REMEMBERED, I also have a WIP book that's part of the What's the Magic Word? universe. Rowena's Future Vision! This is gonna be composed of just drabbles, thoughts, and ramblings of things I wanna see for my ship. Nothing is canonized until its written in the official book(s). This is my sacred space for adding more to Rowena's lore, her relationships with Kid and the world around them. It can kiiiinda be spoilery if you're not caught up to the main fic. Inspired by @abysscronica 's standalone fic "Emperors (dad!Kid x mom!Reader)" which is SOFCKING GOOD but also gave me the courage to write beyond my main fic and explore other themes and tropes that would not otherwise fit in WTMW? NGL I'm inspired to do a Stampede book too cause my mind literally cannot shutthefuckup about Kid and Rowena and making Kid stressed about showing off that he's a better Captain than Luffy, but I have too much on my plate already. I hope that's not stepping on your toes Abyss!!!!!

Ending on a collaborative note, it was a DELIGHT AND HONOR to host this collection of stories for Halloween 2023 with some of my dear moots. SUPER SECRET HALLOWEEN PROJECT was so much fun from conception to execution. I had so much fun envisioning the theme, and hearing from my friends how much they enjoyed being able to do something low-pressure and just for funsies. Plus being able to include fandom by voting on the best costume was really cool - and I'll take any excuse to commission @yamiyamiart ;) Shoutout to my crew: @quinloki @zoros-sheath @sanjis-all-blue @writing-yarn-goblin @icy-spicy @mewiyev @bulle-d-bulliver @leakyweep

[lolforu]

2012 TMNT HEADCANNONS :D

HEADCANNONS ON : what they'd do for fun ! + with reader (romantic / platonic)

warnings : none :)

..............................................................................................................................

Leo : - I feel like Leo would train for fun, but also when he's not being serious leader he'd come up with Jupiter Jim stories, ones of his own, a side of him nobody else would know

-What I feel like he'd also do for fun is meditate and learn techniques from splinter. the others think he's wasting time but all of this comes in handy in battle.

-When he's with !reader I feel like if you two ever hung out you'd practice and be active, jumping across roofs on Leo's shoulders/ back included !

-If either he or you are in a mood when you're hanging out, he'd bust out Jupiter Jim movies and watch them in silence until it becomes too awkward and one of you breaks the said silence

..............................................................................................................................

Raphael :

-With Raph, I feel like when he's in a private space of his own he'd not only play with his action figures but also make up a WHOLE plot line, I feel like he'd create a whole story, beginning to end, episode by episode. he doesn't tell ANYONE about this.

-as he would be, he'd also train like Leo but with his punching bag, imagining it was Mikey mainly.. but also the shredder and spider bytez. (he loves his dear brother Mikey.. really.)

-Apart from action figures, I'd also imagine him training with weights to you know, gain strength. but he might also go out on solo runs (maybe to find special edition action figures all for himself...)

-when this stubborn turtle is hanging out with !reader however, the big bad wolf persona falls down like straw, he allows you to join him in creating a bigger plot for his action figures and to also go out on runs with him.

-he may also spar with you (if you're up for it) as per his competitive spirit

..............................................................................................................................

Donatello :

-Donatello definitely experiments for fun, mutagen tests may not be too fun, but he definitely researches and experiments on smaller creature, for the biology of them n all.

-apart from tests, Donnie would strategize and play chess with his robotics, not only would he pay chess but he may hack into local schools to review their curriculum, maybe to learn more about what humans do socially but also to fix what was incorrect about the lessons they were learning.

-when Donnie is with !reader however, one situation you may be in is being his test subject. socially. poor Donatello doesn't understand much of humans in a personality side of things but because of you, he's willing to put down whatever concoction he was creating and listen to your human kind lessons, what to do and what not to do when approaching a person.

-a secondary situation in what you two would do for fun is stargaze. observe the sky together with a telescope of his (Donniefied though) , if you were intellectual like him, and obsessed with the stars, he'd most likely have fun just listening to your "ooo's" and "ah's" whilst taking in the glistening night above you.

-its either those or he'd buffer at the fact that you were actually talking to him (if it were romantic)

..............................................................................................................................

Michelangelo :

-Mikey is almost never bored. I'm lying. when he's bored, he's usually chatting to ice cream kitty about the day and what he wants to do throughout the say. although he never gets around to doing any of those things, but what he does getting around to do is watching ahead of his brothers in Jupiter Jim with ice cream kitty

-another extracurricular activity he'd have is spying on his busy brothers, watching Donnie and his focus in experiments, Raph and his action figures, and sometimes Leo and his rigorous training.

-if all doors were closed and he was STILL bored, he's go out to the rooftops with Casey and skate anywhere they could, maybe some risky races along the new york streets would be allowed too.

-when mikey is with !reader however, he'd just have fun entertaining you, cracking any jokes and any thoughts he could gather up inside his head, you two would get up in the middle of the night with markers and draw on the brothers as pranks too which would be all you'd giggle about.

-you two would also skate together, basically attached at the hip, you'd dance together, run together, sleep at each others houses (if you lived alone), anything you two did was together, 2 braincells are better than one

..............................................................................................................................

READERS NOTE :

I had a fun time writing these head cannons, I tried making it as true to the 2012 series as I could but also added in some bits here and there!

(PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE REQUEST MORE!!!)

[mlm-mod-taka]

hi, can I request makoto naegi with a boyfriend who shows his love non-verbally? The reader doesn't talk much and rarely says much, so he demonstrates it through physical contact, such as hugging, kissing the cheek, patting the head, holding hands, etc...

i will be waiting! :D

PHYSICALLY AFFECTIONATE READER • makoto x male reader

hello, anon, thank you for waiting! of course you can, and i hope you enjoy your headcanons. side note, i wrote majority of this in public while waiting in lines, and im quite sure atleast 3 people saw my screen. how joyous. /lh

tws/cws: none that i can think of.

|| -> mod taka <3

makoto would much rather have a lover who expresses his love through exclusively actions, rather than having one that expresses it exclusively through words.

even if you're a man of few words, it doesn't matter much to him, because he still feels cared for and loved. it'd be a different situation if you never did anything to show your love for him, because he'd just feel forgotten and neglected in that case.

but because you do show it, he picks up on it, and acknowledges that how you express love is different from how others express it. and he accepts that!

makoto wouldn't hold you to high standards, or expect you to outgrow your love language, he would just accept you for who you are and not demand anything more, because all he asks for in a relationship is to have a mutual love for each other, and you definitely show that.

once you two are further into your relationship though, he'll gain the courage to ask you for little affectionate phrases, specifically when he's accomplished something meaningful.

will get a good grade in a really difficult test for a subject he particularly struggles at, then come up to you saying "hi s/o? :D please say i love you to me, that's enough of a reward!" with a huge, eager smile on his face.

of course, he'd never force you to say it if you're really not comfortable doing it. he's more than content with your loving actions! he just thinks it'd be a treat to hear verbal affections every once in awhile, when he thinks hes really earned it.

his favorite ways you show affection is through hand holding and cheek kisses! he enjoys holding hands with you whenever you two are on a date in public. thinks its a cute way to clearly show to others that you're both in a relationship.

when it comes to cheek kisses, he loves receiving them as a greeting or as a goodbye. getting one as a good morning is a great way to start the day, and getting one as a goodnight is a great way to end the day. preferably, he'd like to receive both in one day, if you'll give it to him.

there might be days in the relationship where he craves verbal validation and love, particularly in moments where he might be struggling or in a bad mood. makoto wouldn't tell you about it since he doesn't want to make you feel obligated to do something you might not be comfortable with just to help cheer him up, but you can definitely tell when he's in a slump.

whether or not you'll give him verbal affection is up to you, but he'd be eternally grateful if you did. however, giving him a quick hug would also be more than enough to make him feel better, so either way, he'll be happier!

kakoto would probably reflect your love language back to you. if you show it physically, he will too. if you show it verbally, he'll follow suit. if you show it through some combination of both, he'd try to find your balance.

during times where there's no words spoken and its just silent, fluffy cuddling, he'd stay quiet. in the rare moments you say an affection verbally, he'll reciprocate it as well.

doesn't really wish to bring you out of your comfort zone. if you're ever willing to change things up, he'll be on board, but he'd prefer you to just show love however you feel is most sincere and natural.

wouldn't be one to be insecure about this aspect of the relationship. for every verbal "you matter to me" that you don't express, he receives a bunch of kisses and hugs in its stead, which equivalates to that verbal statement. its all a fair trade to him!

if other people do comment on your difference in approach, he won't take it to heart. at the end of the day, you both are the ones in the relationship, so if you two are content and happy, then what outsiders have to say doesn't hold much weight in comparison.

will never tell you about these comments though, if they happened when you weren't around. he doesn't want to make you feel bad just because some person who doesn't know you well decided to judge you. he keeps it to himself, and makes a note to keep you away from that person.

at the end of a long day, he'd just really like a cuddle session and a few kisses. you not talking much is nice in these situations, because he'll sometimes be too tired to speak. so, you two just bask in each others silent presence, enjoying every moment of it.

all in all, he's comfortable in the relationship, and tries his best to make sure you feel that way as well. as long as he has you by his side, it doesn't matter how you express your affections, because he knows he'll feel loved all the same, and he makes sure you feel that way too.

[padfootagain]

The King and You (XVIII)

Chapter XVIII : Spoken out Loud

Alright! Here we go with another chapter for my Caspian series! We have only one chapter left after this one, guys!! The end is near…

I hope you all like this chapter, tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: Caspian x reader

Warnings: a bit of angst… the fluff is coming soon though… Also, sorry for the cliffhanger :D

Summary: Somehow, Caspian stumbles out of Narnia and into your world. He’s utterly lost and has no idea how to get out of this world filled with scary toasters, strange carriages and a woman who literally knocks him off of his feet. But does he really want to find a way back?

Word count: 3593

You were in Narnia.

Strange feeling.

Unknown earth under your feet, unknown air into your lungs, a foreign forest around you.

When you looked back, your bedroom had disappeared. There was no way back.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

You needed to find Caspian. It was all that mattered. It would be alright as soon as he would be by your side again.

But where were you supposed to go? Which direction? Wherever you looked, there was nothing but a forest, nothing but trees and grass and moss covered with skeleton leaves. You would have enjoyed these orange and red and golden hues, had you not been so terrified.

You noticed a direction where the forest seemed less dense, the trees leaving small pieces of the sky to be seen through their branches. You decided that it was an encouraging sign. If you found a village or any inhabitant of this foreign land, you would be saved. After all, reaching the King could not be that difficult, right?

You tightened your hold on your suitcase, and dragged it across the leaves behind you as you started to walk blindly across the forest.

After a short while, you found a lonely lamppost, standing tall in its dark iron body, in the middle of a small clearing covered in red leaves.

A lamppost… that was a familiar sight. It ought to be a good sign, right?

*********************

It had been almost a week since Caspian's strange disappearance and reappearance. For now, he still had not said a word to anyone about what had happened that day, or where he had spent the night. Whenever his advisers or friends tried to question him, he would change the subject, or blatantly ignore them.

The truth was, he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to talk about you.

Since the announcement, he had managed not to show any sign of weakness. He had not cried again. He had not slept either, but that was another story.

He stared at the forest stretching on and on, as far as the eye could see, beyond the walls of the castle and the small village splayed at its feet. Or well… it was a fortress, actually.

He wondered where you were. What you were doing. Were you happy? Were you smiling? Were you crying still? Did you miss him the way he missed you?

The wind blew softly through the branches coloured with the vivid shades of autumn and its heavy rains. The sky that morning was of a bright blue shade despite the season, only a few clouds drifting peacefully under the sun.

The wind was blowing through Caspian's hair; he didn't even notice. He was merely wearing a black shirt with puffed sleeves and brown trousers, no coat. He didn't notice that he was cold, that despite the warm sun, he had goosebumps running along his arms. He looked up at the sun. Noon had passed already.

Were you thinking of him now, just like he was thinking of you?

You were always on his mind…

Lost in his thoughts as he was, he didn't notice the three silhouettes who climbed up the defensive walls, advanced towards him until they were by his side.

He jumped when Drinian spoke to him.

"Your Majesty, Lady Emilia and her father should arrive in an hour or so. You should get ready to welcome them."

Caspian slowly nodded.

"Yes… thank you, Drinian. I'll get ready."

"Your Majesty, if I may…" Lady Dalia added when Caspian took a step away from the wall.  "You do not seem well. Can we help?"

Caspian looked at his old friend, gave her a thankful smile, but shook his head.

"I will be fine… Eventually."

He tried to walk away, but Reepicheep stopped him, insisting.

"My Liege, you do know that we only have your best interests at heart. You have not been yourself since you’ve come back from this walk into the woods. What happened?"

Caspian stared at his three friends, the people he was closest with. If he did not tell them about you, he would never tell a soul.

His eyes drifted back towards the forest, a sea of orange and red and deep green hues against a pale blue sky. Somewhere, far beyond, was the path to your world. A path to you that would forever be forbidden to him, he knew it somehow. It was his first and last journey to your world.

He was Narnian, and would remain so.

"I am not certain that you would believe me if I told you," Caspian let out in a whisper, his armour slowly breaking, crumbling…

"You should know that we will always believe in you," Dalia replied, her smile reassuring, but Caspian didn't see her gesture, his eyes still fixed on the horizon, on the dark line that separated the earth from the sky.

He slowly nodded. Maybe talking about you would help…

"Very well."

His friends patiently waited for their king to continue. The wind blew hard on the high walls, and Dalia and Drinian tightened their hold on their coats. Caspian was still paying no attention whatsoever to the cold.

"I found the lamppost."

Three jaws dropped behind Caspian.

"I found the lamppost from Lucy's tale," Caspian repeated. "I found the edge of the woods, the hidden path to their world. I found it. It wanted to be found, I think…"

He finally turned to his friends.

"I spent a month there. To me, it lasted more than a month. For you, barely a day."

He told them about everything that had happened. How lost he felt, how he had tracked down Agatha, how he had visited the town, how he had flown across the ocean, the Pevensies' graves, the magical wardrobe…

… and you. Most of all, he talked about you.

He didn't realize the way Dalia clenched her fists as he went on. It would not have mattered anyway.

He rested his back against the wall behind him, finally falling silent. Almost an hour had gone by. His three friends were too stunned to speak for a while.

"I am sorry that I am not myself now. I reckon… it will pass, eventually. When the pain has waned a little, when it's become easier to breathe again… I will be myself once more. I just… I just need a little time to get used to being alone again; to get used to the truth: that I will truly never see her again."

He gave his friends a smile, that he wanted to be reassuring, but was merely sad.

"I will be fine. I simply need a little time."

Reepicheep nodded, offering the King an encouraging smile.

 "But then… what about Lady Emilia?" Drinian asked.

"Oh… yes, you are right. I should go get ready… she will soon be here."

"No, what I meant to ask was… should you really marry her?"

Caspian gave him a questioning look.

"This has nothing to do with my feelings towards Y/N," Caspian answered.

"But… if you love her so much…"

"She is gone. And I would have never married Lady Emilia out of love anyway. It might as well be useful to Narnia."

Caspian finally shivered, taking a step towards the stairs.

"We should get ready…"

But Reepicheep stopped him.

"Drinian is right. Perhaps there is something we could do… perhaps we could bring her here!"

Caspian struggled to swallow back the lump in his throat. He had tears in his eyes again, but refused to let them run free. He bit the inside of his cheek, until he would taste the bitterness of blood on his tongue…

"There is no need," he answered, trying to keep his voice steady. "It was best for her to stay. It would not be fair. She couldn't simply… leave everything behind. Not for me. Not so soon. No… she deserves better than that. Anyway… the chance passed. She did not take it. It is too late now."

He didn't let anyone else speak, and walked away. It was too much to deal with this time. He needed to walk away and be alone.

A gush of wind blew, particularly strong. He thought he heard your voice in the wind…

Was it what his life would be like from now on? Would he imagine you everywhere?

**************

You found a town after a couple of hours of walking through the woods. You had seen from afar, above the treetops, the walls of what seemed to be a fortress, and decided to aim your steps in that direction. Finding people meant a chance to find Caspian. You reckoned that learning where the king was would not be difficult. Seeing him might be a bigger problem… after all, if someone asked to see the King of England, they were not welcome with open arms inside Buckingham Palace.

But one problem at a time.

For now, you needed to find information about his location. With some luck, he would be in this fortress you were approaching now.

The village was bigger than what you thought it would be. It was more of a small town, actually. Houses stuck up against each other all the way up to the feet of the fortress. As you stepped inside the main street, you decided to follow the path going straight to the castle. There was no pavement, only mud and skeleton leaves. Yet, the houses seemed welcoming and warm, either made of stone or wood. It was a busy place. Shops on both sides of the street offered food, trinkets and objects of all kind. You noticed a smith working in his forge. He was speaking with a bird…

It struck you then, in a new way, in a deeper fashion. You were in Narnia…

The realization made you slow down, until you would finally stop, there, in the middle of the street. You noticed the way people looked at you. Your clothes, your suitcase, your bag… You did not exactly blend in.

 You decided to aim for what seemed to be an inn, only a few meters away from the tall walls of the castle. You reckoned that you could easily get some information there. No need to attract even more attention onto yourself by knocking on this fortress door if Caspian was not even there…

The room was rather large, a little bit too dark to your liking though. Narrow windows only allowed for little light to come inside the large room. There was a bar on the left side and sets of wooden tables and old chairs or stools. A large mantlepiece occupied most of the right wall, and yet it was still quite cold inside. A narrow staircase seemed to lead to the bedrooms upstairs.

You suddenly wondered how you would pay for anything when you had no money. Or at least, not the right currency.

You walked to the bar slowly, hesitating. Your voice was shy, your manners hesitant when you called for the owner of the inn, who was cleaning glasses behind the bar. There were a few clients occupying some tables, but the place was mainly empty. After all, it was the beginning of the afternoon already.

“Hi… I’m sorry to bother you but… I was wondering if you knew if the King was in the fortress at the moment.”

But the innkeeper welcomed you with a warm smile, even though she frowned at the sight of your clothes and your suitcase.

“You must be coming to see his departure! Do not worry, dear, you are just in time! Lady Emilia and her father are only arriving today. Actually, they should be almost here. The King should not depart for Cair Paravel before tomorrow.”

You heaved a relieved sigh. So, Caspian was in this castle… now you needed a way to get in…

You wanted to ask the lady another question, but were interrupted by loud shouts outside, that sounded like celebrations. And indeed, when you walked out of the building with all the clients, and even the innkeeper who seemed too curious to remain to her station, you found the street filled with a crowd that kept on growing, cheering for a set of three carriages that were climbing up the main road and hurrying towards the fortress. When they passed before you, you caught a glimpse of an elegant woman waving at the clamouring crowd, her hand covered with a red glove. You asked the innkeeper who she was.

“But, that’s lady Emilia, dear!” she answered as if your question was the silliest in the world. “Now that she has arrived, the king will ask her father to sign the treaties. I know it is good news for all of us, trades are going to bloom. But… I do believe the rumours about the king.”

“What kind of rumours?” you asked, trying to hide how eager you were.

“That the king did not want the marriage.”

You froze, too stunned to speak, to think or even to breathe…

“The marriage?” you repeated in a breath.

“Yes! They say that he only agreed to marry lady Emilia to convince her father to sign the treaties. Which I assume is correct. Some say the two have never met! But… apparently, he would have been against the idea for a while, and would have changed his mind only a few days ago. No one knows why.”

But you knew why. It was because of you. It was… it was this Lady he had talked about, but why so soon?

People slowly left the street. Soon, you were on your own, standing there, in the cold. You didn’t notice it at all, but the main road was completely empty, except for you.

Your thoughts were erratic. Still, you needed to take the right kind of decision.

But you couldn’t, not when you were so stunned by all this…

Luckily for you, your dedicated narrator is here.

You needed a little push in the right direction. It came from a scarf being blown by the wind; blue velvet carried up by the breeze. Where it came from, you didn’t know. But the coloured item caught your eyes, and you followed its movements without even noticing. Until…

You recognized his silhouette in a second, standing there at the top of the wall. His dark hair, his stature, the way he held himself…

You shouted his name before you could think about what you were doing…

…but he didn’t hear you. Or rather, he did not believe it to be true.

And so, he disappeared again.

*************************************

Caspian was very talented at hiding his emotions.

His time as king had completed the long years spent under his uncle’s scrutiny. It was easy for him now, to act politely when he was angry, or sad, or tired.

However, as he stared at Lady Emilia, he did struggle to put on a welcoming smile.

Caspian, the Lady and her father were taking a walk through the paved courtyard. They were talking of trades, of treaties, but soon the conversation settled on the wedding. Emilia seemed excited. Caspian struggled to summon a neutral expression.

“I must admit that I am very content with your decision, Your Majesty,” Lord Cirvan said.

“I am happy you find these conditions to your liking.”

“I must admit that I had given up on this idea of marriage… almost. But you seem to have chosen the wisest option.”

“Indeed…”

Caspian clenched his jaw, and Emilia noticed it. Because even if Caspian was talented, he was not perfect…

Now that she was paying close attention to him, she could see the way he had clenched his fists, the way the muscle of his jaw jumped, the dark look in his eyes he was desperately trying to hide.

Maybe he didn’t want this marriage that much after all…

“Do you still think that we could have reached an agreement without this wedding, Your Majesty?” Emilia asked, breaking the heavy silence that had settled upon the group.

Her father shot her a glare, this kind of question was out of line. But she didn’t care. Instead, she stared at Caspian. He was clearly choosing his words carefully when he answered.

“I think that trades can be settled between our lands. I think we can establish an alliance, even without the bonds of matrimony. But I understand that you wish for reassurance, for certainty.”

She smiled.

It was an extremely polite way to admit that he was still doubtful.

“If we are to be married in Cair Paravel, then you still have a week to change your mind, if need be,” she went on.

But it was her father who answered.

“The wedding is a condition of our treaty. Marraiage will be ensured right after the signature. Actually… Your Majesty, I reckon that we have discussed everything that needed to be said. We can sign now, if you wish.”

Caspian kept on walking. They had been tracing circles for over an hour now, going back and forth through the courtyard. The sun was setting already. It painted the grey stones of the walls with red splashes of light.

Caspian nodded.

There was no hope anyway. You were not here. You would never be…

“Yes, let’s sign the treaty.”

***************************************

Apparently, shouting the name of a king right in front of his castle was not a good idea.

You had never been arrested before, it was a brand-new experience. One that you would have been happy to never live through, though…

You were thrown quite ruthlessly in a tiny cell, iron bars made brown with rust. You had stumbled down a flight of stairs, you reckoned that you were somewhere under the fortress. Torches were lighting the way, wet walls smelling of mould and earth…

You turned to see your jailers, right when they began studying your suitcase, trying to find a way to open it.

You remembered the first time Caspian had discovered a zipper. You needed to show him three times how it worked for him to finally get it. He was blushing so much as you stood before him, showing him how to close the jacket he was wearing. You stood so close then, you were laughing at him playfully, and you remembered how he had chuckled…

You needed to get out of this cell. You needed to find him…

You held onto the rusty bars, shaking them in anger and frustration but they didn’t move an inch. You were ready to cry at this point…

If Emilia was here, did it mean that you were too late?

“Listen to me, please,” you argued once more, although the guards didn’t seem to be paying any attention to you, merely turning your suitcase around in their search for a way to open it. “I must see the king. I know him. I need to see Caspian…”

“Be respectful of our King,” the man on the right warned you.

He was bald, with a black and white beard. You guessed he was about fifty.

“I know him! I’m telling you that I know him and I must see him!”

“Yes, of course… and I am the Queen,” the second guard mocked you.

You groaned in frustration, looking for an argument to give… Thinking about every detail Caspian had once told you about this world…

You suddenly had an idea. Because if Caspian would have been considered mad to tell anyone about Narnia in your world, it was different here. People knew your world existed. It was worth a try…

“I know the Pevensies.”

The young guard laughed, but the older one froze.

“I come from the same world as the Pevensies. I need to speak to Caspian. It’s urgent. Please, you have to let me out.”

“Why should we believe you?” the bald guard asked, crossing his arms.

“Tell Caspian that I’m here. I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. He knows me. Please…”

“We cannot bother the King for nothing.”

“Have you seen my clothes? And my suitcase?” you argued. “Have you ever seen anything like that zipper before?”

“A what?”

“A zipper. The thing closing my suitcase. It comes from my world. I mean… take a look at me. Do I really look Narnian to you?”

But the more he looked at you, the more this soldier thought that, indeed, you didn’t seem Narnian at all…

This was a crazy idea. To think that someone of the other world could come back like this…

But then, he had known the times of the wars between Caspian and Miraz. He had seen the Queens and Kings of Old. And if he locked you up when you were one of them… he didn’t dare imagine what could happen, to Narnia or to himself.

Slowly, he walked up to your cell.

“I will warn my captain. But know that if you are lying, and that we bother the King for nothing… just for some silly woman trying to meet him… you will spend the rest of your days in this cell. Do you understand?”

But instead of being scared, of admitting that you were lying, you nodded frantically.

“Please, tell him I’m here. Tell him, quickly. Please…”

The guard walked away, but he didn’t leave before instructing his colleague to keep an eye on you.

You saw him climbing up the stairs again, and heaved a deep sigh. If Emilia was here, did it mean that you were too late?

****************

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