#like overflowing courage

[grievous-lady]

[baeshijima]

— within uncertainty

sunday reflects on his limited time thus far on the express, only to find himself distracted by a face he has unknowingly become fond of.

CONTAINS : 1.2k wc, gn!reader, astral express member!sunday, fluff

A/N : chat have we seen the lc and gameplay leaks…? throwing up.

When Sunday first arrived on the Astral Express, a miniature gold and crimson ticket attached to his apparel, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

A new start; that much he was sure of. But with these people who instilled a newfound hope and courage to face the future, there was no shadow of a doubt within his heart and soul that he would encounter the unexpected more times than he can keep track of.

Sure enough, the unexpected came in many ways.

For one, March 7th’s uncanny ability to look at the bright side of things appeared so natural to her, so easy and simple. In recent times, he has found himself thinking about situations in a more positive light, no doubt a side effect of having spent time with her bubbly self.

He discovered Dan Heng’s aloof demeanour barely concealed his great care and affection for the crew— the Astral Express family. Even with what seems to be passive quips and dead-eyed stares, Sunday has begun to note the differentiations in his tone and body language, and all the subtleties he only shows with them.

He discovered the Trailblazer was every bit of a jokester as they are courageous, often finding himself staring blankly at some of their… seamlessly timed quips, to put it lightly. Even so, he’s oftentimes caught himself mid-admiration when they take charge in what they believe is right, wondering if he, too, could be like them in that aspect.

He found that Welt, while still retaining the righteous and strong spirit he displayed while in penacony, had a rather unprecedented charm. Sitting down for hours on end listening to the elder ramble passionately about animating, the arts, and endless theories about this universe wasn’t something he had ever planned for, but his heart warmed all the same at the burst of energy.

He came to realise the Express’ Navigator, Himeko, was certainly a… character. Brave, wise and humble were what he would use to describe her, even more so after her warmly welcoming him into the family. However, Sunday realised he could do without that… concoction she dubs a coffee.

He also never realised such a creature existed until he met Pom-Pom, much less one being a sentient conductor. Their nags are backed with overflowing affection for the members of the Express, often displayed through the meticulous care taken in the tailored meals and rooms and experience. There is so much love of the Astral Express, and Sunday wouldn’t be surprised if he were told most of it came from the Conductor.

(Though he does recall being warned by Dan Heng in particular to not anger the Conductor, an experience he is both curious about but also content in not knowing what exactly would transpire.)

And then there is you.

Sunday only caught a glimpse of you during the final moments of the conflict, much like with Himeko, so he didn’t have too much to go off of other than the fact you, just as it seemed to come with being a part of the Astral Express, were brave and fought for what you believed in.

(With you in particular, he found himself unable to forget your gaze — how it held a sparkling resolution and commanded his full attention, completely and utterly drawn in.)

Of course, that’s not to say you don’t embody those aspects now that he’s gotten to know you. Rather, you are so much more than what he could have ever imagined.

“Wow… they’re way softer than they look!”

…In more ways than one.

Sunday doesn’t really know how this situation came to be. He was merely idling around the Express in search of something to pass the time until you took note of his predicament, swooping in like the graceful saviour you are (self-proclaimed by you).

Somehow, in some way, that brought you both to his room.

It’s times like these where Sunday wholeheartedly believes the most forward member of the Astral Express isn’t that racoon-like Trailblazer, but rather you instead.

Seriously. How are you not embarrassed by this… this compromising position you’re both in?! He can practically feel the radius in which the heat from his face permeates!

“Do you, like, have a care routine for them or something?” you ask while gently thumbing individual feathers, because obviously this is only affecting him and him alone. “I refuse to believe your wings are like this naturally.”

He knows he gave you permission to touch them, but it doesn’t change the fact his wings are still sensitive. Aeon knows what you would do with that information; well, assuming you haven’t already picked up on his reactions towards your… ministrations.

“I do have a routine. I go to great lengths pruning and trimming my feathers. More than that…” he trails off, opting to ignore your mumbled comment of “Wow… you’re just like a bird then…”. He coughs, averting his eyes from your intensely gentle gaze, raising a fist to cover his lips. “Are you this forward with everyone?”

You blink. Once, twice, thrice. Somehow, the action makes Sunday fluster even further.

A hum leaves you as your lips purse and your head tilts in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say everyone, exactly. Just those I consider to be very close to me. Oh,” you begin, as though realising something, “does it bother you? I’m so sorry!”

No— wait— why are you apologising?

“I didn’t realise I was making you uncomfortable! Oh gosh, I did it again…!”

You make a move to scramble away from him. Is it your frantic and unfocused eyes, or perhaps this uncharacteristic side of your usual confident and unabashed self which makes his heart lurch?

“I’m so, so sorry! I’ll keep my distance from now on and—!”

He acts before he can think.

“No!”

There’s a surge of panic which shoots into him. It makes itself known in the raw strain of his voice, in the shaky wide-eyed stare at the thought of you leaving, in the trembling grip he has your arm in.

Really, Sunday doesn’t know what he’s panicking about. He just knows a part of himself would never forgive him for unintentionally pushing you away like this.

A gasp escapes him after a few tense seconds which felt much more like an eternity. With haste, Sunday tears his hand away from your arm. Despite that, he remains in close proximity to you, mustering the courage to look at you once more.

“I… I mean, no, you’re not making me uncomfortable.” Sunday prays you didn’t hear the stammer in his words. And, if you did, then he hopes you don’t bring it up. “If I were feeling as such, I would have told you outright.”

The silence is absolutely suffocating. Even so, Sunday doesn’t dare look away from your stunned expression, not even when he’s almost positive his face is about to melt off from the sheer heat radiating from him.

“Oh.” You blink, expression falling into that of neutrality. A nod of understanding is your next action; understanding of what? Sunday has no clue — he’s not sure he even wants to know. “So you’re that type, huh. I see now.”

Nevermind. Maybe he does.

“…What does that mean? Wait— [Name], come back here! Explain what ‘that type’ means! Are you listening?!”

Suffice to say, Sunday never received a verbal response from you. Only your cheeky grin before you left and a plethora of butterflies fluttering amok within his stomach are all that remains.

Yeah. Sunday didn’t know what to expect when joining the Astral Express; in fact, he still doesn’t know what to expect. Despite being thrown into the unknown, he finds himself thinking this situation to not be so bad after all.

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[chiliyue-archived]

Lipstick Smudges

Includes; Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Malleus Draconia, Silver

Tags; slightly suggestive— but it's all sfw and a lot of smooches 😚

Gender Neutral Reader -> Reader does wear lipstick

Requested ! [Twst M.List] ♡

-

—Riddle Rosehearts

A death wish

If you wish to be berated about public appearances and whatnot, then this is is just the thing for you 😀

On the bright side, the red of the lipstick compliments his red hair and of course, the growing blush on his face

An innocent single kiss to his cheek, which quickly became less seemingly innocent in the form of a dozen pecks. Riddle lost all sense of control at the first kiss, your lips simply soft, gentle, and intoxicating. His chest was burning for oxygen, but he didn't want to pull away - not yet, just a couple more seconds, he reckoned. He was practically drowning in the overflowing feelings amongst the moment.

You pulled away, your face flushed from the heated moment, eyes half lidded as you attempted to catch your breath. Suddenly, your eyes widened, a fit of giggles following from you soon after. Riddle rosed a brow at that, his heart fluttering at the sound of your laughter. " What's so silly my rose?"

" Your face...!" You couldn't stop another chuckle from leaving you as you attempted to calm yourself. Perplexed, Riddle took a quick glance at the mirror perched at the side of his room. Low and behold, the great dorm warden of Heartslabyul— rendered a disheveled mess with flushed cheeks and... lipstick marks over his lips. If it was even possible, his face became many shades redder, placing the roses in the garden to shame.

To be honest, you couldn't tell if he was mad or simply surprised, perhaps a mixture of both knowing your boyfriend. As for the boyfriend himself, Riddle couldn't quite place a finger on what he was feeling. He should be angry, really, that if anyone witnessed him this state, it would truly be embarrassing. But it's wasn't that... bad. If anything, it just made his heart thump faster, and palms become fidgety.

But oh- if you thought you were off the hook, then you're horribly mistaken. But for now, he'll let it slide and perhaps get a couple more kisses from you.

-

—Azul Ashengrotto

He's already red at the thought of kissing and now having some very obvious red marking of your kissing(which wasn't really that intimate) ?! He feels like he may explode on the spot

To be honest, if you don't point it out him, he's not going to notice for a while until some poor soul garnered the courage to tell him

It was a goodbye kiss - a goodbye which left a bright red mark on the corner of his mouth. Azul was curious as to why everyone was giving him a lingering gaze, some looking away to chuckle to themselves. We're they teasing him? Did he have anything in his teeth, perhaps?

A quick glance to the mirror answered all those questions, and he was mortified. The first thing he did was seek you out and demand - no, he can't raise his voice at you- nicly question, what caused you to do something so... so scandalous! Why do this to his face? Were you trying to make him have a heart attack?

He was too dumbfounded to even wipe it off, contributing to a very amusing scene to play before your eyes; your boyfriend out of breath, face flushed terribly red and just a tiny bit of your lipstick sticking to his lips.

" Darling, look what you did to my face." He sputtered, his face flushing an embarrassed pink as he pointed to the innocent mark. You giggled slightly at his dramatic antics, earning you a dramatic gasp from his end.

" Sorry Azul, didn't mean to leave a mark."

" Everyone in the school saw, and no one considered telling me." He mumbled out dumbfounded.

"It's really not that bad." You attempted to soothe him, grabbing a tissue to wipe it off. You were surprised when he caught your wrist suddenly, the material just shy from his lips.

Oh?

" Now now, I never say I didn't like it. Just be more cautious, Angelfish. Otherwise, I'll never hear the end of it from the twins."

Oh.

-

—Jade Leech

Really it's you who gets more flustered than he does.

If anything, he looks rather unfazed by the mark. Makes matters worse by teasing you for it, chuckling lightly as you scrambled to save your dignity

"Oh Jade... I got some of my lipstick on your face, " you muttered rather sheepishly, pointing the vibrant red smudge against his mouth as you pulled away. Your lover merely rose a brow at that, for he was already fully aware that it's there! But it presented an opportunity to make a gentle tease at the situation, and given how you're becoming red, it was worth it.

"Oh?" He tilted his head, a smirk already playing on his lips as he examined myself. "Why it seems you have, my dear." He exclaimed with a faux dramatic sigh before giving off a light-hearted chuckle.

Really, Jade paid little mind to the mark - though painfully obvious in contrast to his blue hair. However, people are too afraid of him to make fun of him for it, and besides, he felt entranced by it some way. Marked by his lover in such an innocent and unintentional way? You're really pulling at his heartstrings.

He pointed to the smudge, the pigment rubbing against the corners of his mouth, then he pointed to the other side bare and lipstick-free. Before you could even reciprocate your confusion, Jade suddenly leaned forward, a puff of hot air tickling your cheek. Your gasp of surprise only acted to empathize that smirk of his whilst the pads of his gloved fingers brushed along your spine, ecliting goosebumps along the curves of your body.

" Why don't you leave a couple more, my dear? Mark me as yours, hm?" It's safe to say that you were a little late to your class, your lips noticeably a little puffy and red.

-

—Malleus Draconia

Malleus, who doesn't really understand why you're making a big fuss about in the first place. It's just a small little mark, it can be easily wiped off with his sleeve.

He's intrigued by it; however, it wasn't something he can place his finger on but he stared at the smudge with some form of interest in his eyes

Tbh he's too busy kissing you to even pay attention or care 😗

Honestly, Malleus hardly even noticed or felt the texture of the pigment rub against his lips as he chased you for another kiss. He was too intoxicated in the moment, his chest heaving as he pulled another searing kiss that made the tips of his fingers go numb. It's only when you suddenly pulled away, your eyes widening slightly did he consider that something might have been wrong.

" Why are you staring at me like, my treasure?" He inquired with a tilt of his head, scenarios starting to run through his brain. You shyly pointed to his face, a faint red creeping on your cheeks from mild embarrassment. He hummed as his eyes quickly danced over to the nearest mirror, and there it was; a smudge of color against his face.

It was hard to read his expression within that moment, his brows were furrowing slightly but he remained stagnant in his motion. As you started to internally panic, Malleus let out a soft chuckle, his lips spreading in a small smile as he flickers his attention back to you.

" My love, it's just a little smudge. Don't be so concerned." He lightly chastised as his hands snaked around your waist and pulled you a little closer. " I truly pay little mind toward public appearances and if it came from you, then it certainly is worthy to be on my face."

His finger reached out to trail along your bottom lip, effectively accumulating a little more pigment on his fingernail. He chuckles at the reaction it eclicts from you as he leans in, lips brushing against your own. His voice is low as hushed whisper, sending shivers down your skin.

"However, let's conern ourselves with that later. Allow me to enrapture you in some more kisses."

-

—Silver

Literally does not care. He has no qualms with going to class with a smudged face of your lipstick. So what if they point and whisper? He really could hardly care

Really, he's too busy chasing after your lips to really concern himself over it. Why fuss over a small mark when he can kiss you breathless and maybe add a couple more of marks while he's at it?

Soft sighs were the only audible thing that registered in your brain as you felt your chest be knocked out of oxygen for the nth time. The only coherent feeling was Silver's lips on your own, swollen and blemished as he retreats for a quick intake of air before repeating the action. However, before he could lean in for another round of fervish kisses, you propped your hands on his shoulder, halting in him in place.

" Is something wrong?" He mumbled, hot breath pricking your cheek— it took all your willpower to not shudder, even as his fingers brushed along your upper arms. A couple more seconds of silence passed before you spoke; " I- I got some of my lipstick on your face." Your voice was barely audible and he had to strain his ears to hear.

He seemed to consider this for a moment, eyes flickering to the ground as he processed the words. His expression was unreable. You almost started to panic had it not been for the soothing circles he rubbed along your bare skin. Then, before you could ask, he leaned forward to press a chaste peck to your lips, followed by a:" I don't really care."

And with that, your cycle of kissing each other breathless until you're both heaving for air resumed and tenfolded with each passing second, touches becoming rough and impatient as you littered more smudges along Silver's face.

-

Anon, you didn't specify which fandom, so I went with twist. I hope that was okay ✿

[admiringlove]

growing pains. hello everybody. welcome to the second rendition of @angstober 2024! i hope you enjoy <3

kageyama tobio was a cute kid.

he moved in when you were just three. back then, your days were filled with learning big words, your mother patiently guiding you through children's books, when suddenly, a boy with an oversized, odd-looking ball came into your world. his hair was parted right down the middle, and every day, he’d be out in the yard, chasing after that strange ball with his grandfather, completely obsessed.

you were six when he first said hello. it took him two and a half years to work up the courage, and all because that ridiculous ball of his ended up in your front yard. without asking, he came through the gate, eyes wide with panic, just as you were about to head to the park.

“who are you?” you’d asked, head tilted with curiosity, and he’d stammered out his name like he’d been caught red-handed in a burglary. then, of course, you had to ask about the ball—bigger than his head. what was the deal with that? “it’s a volleyball,” he’d mumbled, and from that moment on, the two of you were intertwined, like a mystery waiting to unfold.

for the next ten years, kageyama tobio became your favorite puzzle. you chased after him like someone chasing a wild animal, half playfully, half determined. at first, it was a game—like you were sherlock and he, your elusive moriarty. your mother had always read you detective stories before bed, so solving the enigma that was kageyama seemed only natural.

when he turned seven, he found you in his front yard, peering through a magnifying glass, completely absorbed in your detective work. for an entire week, the two of you played with that thing, examining ants at the park, squinting at the pen strokes his father made in his books. eventually, he got bored. but you didn’t. no, you kept staring—sometimes at the world, but often at him.

you never tired of anything, especially not of him. you wanted to know more, to know everything. curiosity overflowed within you, spilling out like an unsolvable riddle. and you know what they say—curiosity killed the cat.

because it wasn’t just the world you wanted to uncover, not really. it was kageyama tobio. he was the one who truly fascinated you. when you learned in fifth grade that he had a soft spot for flavored milk, that was it. it became your little tradition. every so often, you’d head to the vending machine, and without fail, you’d grab him a drink—banana or strawberry, depending on the day. in return, he’d hand you the chips his mother packed in his lunch, like an unspoken exchange, as familiar as breathing. if it were up to him, it would always be strawberry.

and that’s how it was, the two of you orbiting each other like planets—his world of volleyball, your world of endless curiosity. playful, magnetic, bound together by rituals only you two understood.

you turned eleven and discovered that liking boys was a real thing. at first, the thought repulsed you; all you wanted was to bury yourself in the pages of sherlock holmes and pretend to play volleyball with kageyama. he was a prodigy, after all, dazzling everyone with his skills. kids from other districts flocked to watch him, enchanted by his talent. thankfully, he hadn’t yet transformed into an absolute twat; his ego was still catching up with him, lingering just out of reach.

“tobio,” you said one day, scrutinizing him as he carelessly set the ball near the riverbank. your gaze was fixed on the tips of his fingers, studying them as if they were an intricate puzzle waiting to be solved. he paused, turning to face you with a look of curiosity. “don’t your fingers hurt?”

“eh?” he replied, shuffling closer. with a flick of his wrist, he held out his hand toward you. “you mean this?”

the eleven-year-old boy displayed a myriad of calluses on his hands, more than you could count. you gasped in dramatic shock, a hand flying to your mouth, and couldn’t resist teasing him about his mother not noticing how rough and unsightly they had become. his eyes narrowed in mock indignation as he yelled at you for talking trash about his mother. you quickly apologized, laughter bubbling up as you declared you would simply have to complain about his “disgusting” hands instead.

that was the essence of your friendship—something sacred, woven from playful banter and shared secrets. the two of you were inseparable, bound by the threads of childhood innocence and mischief.

now, when you think back, it’s often to those moments—him proudly displaying his calluses as you played near the bridge by the river, the sun casting golden hues across the water. you remember walking home alongside him at sunset, a flutter of fear in your stomach about the kidnappers your father had warned you about just the other day. tobio had simply chuckled, telling you that you weren’t an actual genius like sherlock, so you couldn’t possibly be a target for any kidnapper anyway.

life was so simple, so beautifully uncomplicated, until you turned fourteen.

because that’s when you realized you had indeed grown up. you were on the winding road to adulthood, and suddenly, you found yourself hopelessly in love with your next-door neighbor, kageyama tobio—your best friend of eight years. he had sprouted taller, like a young tree reaching for the sky, and his voice had deepened into a rich timbre that sent butterflies flitting through your stomach. everything felt like it was shifting beneath your feet, especially as he found new friends who flocked to him like birds of a feather, while you remained nestled in your closely knit circle, distanced from him.

how were you supposed to navigate these newfound feelings? the conditions were far from ideal. how could you possibly have a crush on him while trying to maintain the friendship you cherished so much, especially when your social circles had diverged at school? being a teenager had suddenly morphed into a tangled web of complexities, each strand pulling you in different directions.

you still managed to walk home with him every day after your club activities, a routine that felt like a comforting ritual. you were quickly on your way to becoming the head of your literature club at junior high, while kageyama had been consumed by his passion for volleyball since he was just a kid. being next-door neighbors with the love of your life was undeniably convenient; it meant he had no choice but to stroll alongside you.

thankfully, the dynamic remained blissfully unchanged. the playful teasing, the exchange of strawberry and banana milk, and the shared bags of cheese puffs, or sometimes other chips, were the threads that wove your friendship together. it didn’t matter what snack you had; all you really wanted was to watch him sip through a thin plastic straw, the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm halo around him as you walked the quiet streets together.

you cherished these moments, especially since he never hurried you along. instead, he walked slowly, savoring the time spent together, as if he genuinely enjoyed your company. this new pace allowed you both to appreciate the little things—the laughter of children playing in the distance, the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze, and the gentle warmth of the sun dipping below the horizon. it felt like a breath of fresh air, invigorating and sweet, a reminder that these small moments were treasures to be cherished.

but then you turned fifteen, and tobio transformed into someone unrecognizable. the boy who had once sparked your curiosity now seemed bitter and hardened, his heart cloaked in ego that swelled within him like a balloon about to burst. his tone had sharpened, cutting through the air like a knife, and he often wore a mask of rudeness that left you reeling. yet, despite it all, your heart still weakly fluttered whenever he was near, an instinctive reaction you couldn’t quite shake.

then it happened. one fateful day, as you walked past the gym to pick up tobio, you overheard a conversation that pierced through you like an arrow.

"aren't they your childhood friend? don't you think they're attractive, even if it's just a little?"

the words lingered in the air, but before you could savor the thought, his response shattered your heart.

"what? no! i could never see them like that. this is grossing me out. stop talking nonsense and focus on volleyball. you didn't spike this set on time!"

his words struck like a hammer, relentless and unforgiving, stomping on your heart a million times without him even realizing the damage he’d done. it was as if the boy you had cherished for so long had vanished, leaving behind only a shadow of the friendship you once held dear.

that day, you walked home alone for the first time ever, the silence of the empty streets echoing the ache in your chest. when the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, you felt a weight pressing down on you. the next day, he didn’t question your absence, didn’t seem to care at all. and in that moment, you understood: you were no longer the person he had once found intriguing. you were just a ghost of a past friendship, lost in the void that had replaced your bond. he was not moriarty anymore, and neither were you sherlock.

you wondered if you ever were.

slowly, you created a chasm between him and you. it was a drift you instigated, unaware of the full weight of your decision. one by one, he lost the people he once held close, and you stood on the sidelines, a silent witness, hoping desperately that he would grasp the hint you were trying to send.

then, one afternoon, while walking home with a small paper bag of eggs cradled in your arms, you collided with him. curses swirled through your mind as you attempted to sidestep him, but his voice cut through the air, halting your escape.

"aren't you cold?"

you raised an eyebrow, turning to meet his gaze, your heart racing with an unexpected mix of hope and apprehension. you hummed softly in response, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. he repeated his question, and you shook your head, summoning a casualness you didn’t truly feel. "just a small walk. i didn't think i'd need a jacket."

"right," he mumbled under his breath, and the silence that followed felt thick with unspoken words. a part of you longed to mention his recent benching during the last match, but the fear of misinterpretation held you back, like a weight pressing on your tongue.

"are you doing okay nowadays?" the question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. you still cared, a part of you reluctant to sever the last thread binding you to him. it felt like that age-old adage—"curiosity killed the cat"—echoing in your mind, a reminder of your unfulfilled longing.

he opened his mouth, perhaps to share something profound, but then hesitated. you knew his expressions as well as the lines of your own heart; he seemed to weigh his words carefully. "i'm okay. i'm going to a high school called karasuno. you?"

the answer came too quickly, and the disappointment surged within you. "i'm going to seijoh, like oikawa and iwa-senpai," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i enrolled there because i thought you'd be going there too. so, you know, we could walk together-"

he cut you off, the sharpness of his words slicing through the fragile moment. "we haven't done that in months, who are you kidding?"

you blinked, surprise washing over you like cold water. he was right. in the span of what felt like an eternity, the simple companionship you had once shared had faded into memory. perhaps your wishful thinking had blinded you to the reality; you were no longer the two kids wandering home together.

"i'm... sorry," you tilt your head, "have i done something to make you mad?"

you thought this was what he wanted—that he didn’t care for your tetra packs of strawberry or banana milk, that he was indifferent to your presence beside him as you walked home from school. the realization stung like a bee’s bite, leaving you with the unsettling notion that your companionship was as easily replaceable as the snacks you offered. but then he clicked his tongue, shaking his head with that familiar exasperation, his voice laced with sarcasm that dripped like spicy honey, sweet yet sharp.

“no. you can never do anything wrong, am i right?”

with that, he turned and walked into his house, leaving you standing there, the air heavy with unsaid words.

months passed without a glimpse of him. it was only when you were returning home from literature club, the sun dipping below the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement, that you spotted him. there he was, in a black uniform, juggling a volleyball under one arm while the other struggled to pry a few papers from between his teeth as he rummaged through his bag.

“do you need any help?” your voice sliced through the crisp evening air, a tentative offering. he blinked, momentarily surprised, before handing you the scattered papers and the ball.

“y-yeah. i’m looking for my keys. ever since miwa went off to college, there’s no one to open the door when i get home.”

“right,” you nodded, trying to maintain the semblance of normalcy. you didn’t need to fill the silence anymore; you were both ghosts of the friendship that once thrived in easy conversation. “i can walk in with these if you want. help you put them wherever, since it’s hard to carry everything together-”

“it’s okay,” he interrupted, his tone clipped, a habit you had grown all too familiar with. “i can take care of myself.”

your lips pressed together, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “alright then,” you replied, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

but as you turned toward your front yard, the moment shattered into a sharp breath. “why did you stop walking home with me?” his voice rang out into the twilight, a challenge hanging between you like a fragile thread.

the world around you fell silent, the air thick with unspoken words. the confrontation hung in the space between you, an echo of the past colliding with the reality of the present. you hesitated, heart racing, caught in the tension of a friendship unravelling, desperately wanting to answer but unsure of how to put the fragments of your feelings into words. "you weren't yourself, i guess. that, and i heard you say something about me to someone. but never mind that. it doesn't matter anymore."

“what?” he furrows his brows, confusion etching deep lines on his forehead. “what do you mean you heard me say something about you to someone? what the hell did i even say for this to happen to us?”

“didn’t you want this to happen?” you retort, your words tumbling out like a well-rehearsed line from a play. “i thought you found me gross.”

he blinks, taken aback, his surprise evident in the widening of his eyes. “when did i ever say i found you gross? what is wrong with you?”

“what is wrong with me?” you echo, the fire in your chest igniting into a full blaze. you’re not quite sure where this rage is coming from, but it feels exhilarating and terrifying all at once. “what’s wrong with me is that it was my fault for ever loving you and thinking you could feel the same because you’re a selfish prick! you’re oblivious and dense and you don’t feel the same way about me, so i left because i didn’t want to be in a place where i wasn’t needed-”

realization crashes over you like a tidal wave in mid-sentence, the weight of your words suffocating. a hand flies to cover your mouth, the confession hanging in the air like an uninvited guest. his expression morphs into one of shock, the volleyball slipping from his grasp and hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, the way his world seems to tilt on its axis, so you turn and flee, heart racing as you dart into your house, slamming the door behind you. the echo of your confession reverberates in your mind, each heartbeat reminding you of what you just unleashed—a truth that feels like it could shatter everything.

you avoided him for months after that moment, but still, you found yourself at every game, an invisible presence in the crowd. you watched as karasuno faced off against kamomedai, your heart aching with every spike and serve, each point a reminder of the distance that had grown between you. tobio had transformed into someone new, shedding his egotistical shell like a snake sloughing off its skin, and finding camaraderie with teammates who genuinely cared for him.

it filled you with anger. why couldn’t he have made this change years ago? if only he had, maybe letting go of your feelings would have been easier. instead, you felt trapped on the sidelines of his life, a spectator to a story that once intertwined your paths.

“w-what are you doing here?” a shaky voice pulls you from your thoughts as you exit the gym. you turn, startled, to find kageyama tobio standing before you. his chest heaves with exertion, droplets of sweat glistening on his skin, and he gazes at you as if you were a relic he had lost long ago.

“i... came to watch the game,” you reply, shrugging, trying to sound casual. “you did good. i hope your friend isn’t injured, by the way.”

“yeah... he’s uh- hinata’s fine,” he nods, his words a soft echo in the tense air. “thank you for coming. it means a lot.”

you press your lips into a straight line, nodding, the weight of the moment heavy between you. it feels like the right time to leave, to escape the growing tension, but he continues.

“i felt the same way about you back then,” he says, and your heart drops, your feet seemingly glued to the ground. his melancholic gaze pierces through you, and the heartbreak looms overhead like a storm cloud ready to burst. “i’m sorry if i hurt you.”

“y-you what?” you whisper, tilting your head as disbelief washes over you. “tobio, you-”

“i can’t say i feel that way now. all i can focus on from now on is volleyball,” he sighs, his gaze falling to the floor, the weight of his words suffocating. “but it really was great being friends with you. i hope we can... try that again sometime.”

in that moment, something within you shatters, the pieces scattering like autumn leaves in a gust of wind. you realize how deeply you had clung to him, how he had become the center of your universe; an object of desire you could never grasp. slowly, painfully, he had outgrown you, moving forward as you remained rooted in the past, a decision you made to push him away when he needed you the most.

perhaps this was what you deserved. perhaps this was how it was meant to be—him, chasing his dreams like icarus, and you, watching from the side lines, heart heavy with the weight of unfulfilled wishes and lost chances.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗬𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗛

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Between love and pain, Y/N fights to save the relationship that once brought her and Chris together, but Chris's fear of commitment seems to stop them from moving forward, leading the two to find themselves trapped in a labyrinth of despair and uncertainty.

WARNING: Crying, fighting, dark thoughts, insecurities, angst (with a happy ending).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N looked at her phone, waiting for a message that never arrived. It was another lonely night, sitting in her bed, with her heart heavy with anguish. Her relationship with Chris started out like a fairy tale, but in recent days, everything seemed to be slowly falling apart.

She couldn't understand what was happening. There was a growing distance between them, as if Chris was moving away from her heart, plunging into an abyss of silence. The calls were becoming less and less frequent, the face-to-face moments rare and full of tension, the last one being the worst they had ever had.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N walked down the hallway of Chris's house with a hesitant but happy heart. They hadn't seen each other for days, and she had noticed how distant he was in his texts, which made her want to visit him and spend the day together, maybe understand what had happened and help him with whatever he needed.

Entering the room she had frequented too many times to even count, she found Chris sitting on his own bed, his gaze lost somewhere in the distance. She quickly opened an involuntary smile, perhaps lighting up the room - as Chris said she always did - but he barely looked at her, his lips curling in a gesture of disdain.

"Hey baby." Y/N muttered softly, trying to ignore the feeling of rejection that enveloped her almost instantly.

"Hey." The brunette replied coldly, his voice cutting like a sharp blade.

Y/N tried to make conversation, she really did. She asked about his day, about how he was feeling, but Chris's answers were short and harsh. He seemed to avoid her at all costs, as if her mere presence was a nuisance.

The pain inside Y/N grew with every second that passed in that house that until days ago had been her refuge. She felt like a stranger in her own skin, an intruder in her own relationship.

As Chris continued to ignore her, the voice in her mind began to scream, hurling cruel accusations at herself. She found herself questioning her own worth, her own ability to love and be loved.

Tears threatened to overflow her eyes, but she fought to keep them contained. She didn't want to give Chris the satisfaction of watching her break, of watching her succumb to the pain he himself inflicted on her.

When it was finally time to leave, Y/N felt relief mixed with despair. She didn't know if she could stand another second in that place, surrounded by Chris's indifference.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N really felt like she was holding on to a fragile rope, about to snap at any moment.

Meanwhile, Chris struggled through a storm of turbulent thoughts. Fear consumed him, dragging him away from the love he had found in Y/N. He found himself trapped in a cycle of self-destruction, fueled by his own insecurities and trauma. It all started when he realized that he loved her, he fell in love... Again.

Each unanswered message was a sharp knife piercing his soul, but he couldn't muster the courage to face his fears. Commitment was a monster that had haunted him since teenage days, a dark shadow that followed him even in his happiest moments.

He found himself questioning everything: his choices, his desires, even the very love he felt for Y/N, he didn't believe he had allowed himself to love her. Would it be fair to drag her into his darkness, condemning her to a life of uncertainty and pain? Or would it be nobler to walk away from her, leaving her free to find someone who could offer her the love she deserved?

The nights became endless for Chris, a constant battle between his head and his heart. He found himself lost in a labyrinth of doubts, struggling to find a way out but only sinking deeper into darkness.

Meanwhile, Y/N desperately tried to understand what was happening. They were just reaching the 3-month mark of their relationship, everything falling apart so suddenly, and so she blamed herself, questioned her own faults, trying to find an explanation for Chris's distance.

Maybe he had finally woken up and saw that she wasn't good enough for him. Maybe he had discovered he wasn't ready for a relationship. Or maybe... Maybe he had found someone else, the ideal and perfect woman.

But the answer was beyond her reach, hidden in the dark recesses of his mind.

And so, the gulf between them continued to grow, separating them more and more. It was a silent tragedy, a love lost in the shadows of doubt and fear. As Y/N struggled to stay afloat, Chris found himself diving deeper and deeper, moving away from the only ray of light in his life.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N took a deep breath before knocking on the door of the triplets' house. Nick's invitation to spend the day there seemed like a ray of hope amid the darkness that consumed her soul. She knew that seeing Chris again would be painful after their last encounter, but the simple possibility of being close to him was enough to make her accept it.

Nick greeted her with a warm smile, but Y/N could barely return it. Her heart was beating wildly as she entered the place that transformed into a stage of pain and uncertainty. Every corner of the house seemed to echo with happy memories, but now those memories were like thorns piercing her skin.

She could feel Chris' gaze on her as she reached the living room floor, but when she turned to face him, he looked away at the turned off television, acting as if she were invisible.

Anguish grew inside Y/N every time she and Nick left his room, and inevitably, as if life was playing a trick on Y/N, came face to face with Chris. She found herself struggling to find words to break the oppressive silence that hung over them both. But Chris remained distant, his eyes empty, his expression impassive, monotonously answering Nick's questions.

She felt like a ghost...

Nick noticed the tension in the air at some point and tried to intervene, but Y/N just shook her head, unable to articulate the pain that consumed her. She felt like a helpless spectator to her own tragedy.

The day dragged on slowly, every minute an unbearable torture. Y/N tried to find comfort in the memories of the happy times she had shared with Chris, but now those memories were like sharp knives, cutting deep into her soul.

Nick found himself looking at Y/N all the time with a worried expression. He knew something was wrong, but Y/N dodged the topic every time he asked, as if he was stabbing her in the chest with a dagger, deciding to just force a smile, swallowing the words burning in her throat.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N walked down the stairs with hesitant steps, determined to get a glass of water from the kitchen, but afraid of finding her own boyfriend - how ironic - without Nick by her side.

Upon reaching the room, her eyes quickly found the figure she knew more than herself, sitting in one of the chairs, his arms resting on the wooden table and his hands holding his phone tightly.

Y/N allowed herself to watch him for long seconds, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, walking to the fridge, opening it while trying to ignore the feeling that her heart was being crushed in her chest.

"Hey." Her voice came out lower and more broken than she expected, making her wonder if he even heard it.

It's not like he'd answer anything, anyway.

She knew he would ignore her, as he had done all day, but a part of her still longed for a glimpse of the love they once shared.

As she filled her glass with water, the voice in her mind began screaming again, hurling cruel accusations against herself and her relationship.

Obviously, he's going to ignore you. He finally understands that you're just a broken piece to his perfect life.

You are not enough for him. He needs a strong, independent, and self-assured woman, not a scared little girl worn out by life like you.

Wake up, Y/N, he doesn't want you anymore.

You were a mistake.

A terrible mistake.

She found herself sinking into an abyss of self-deprecation, unable to find a way out.

It was then that something inside her broke. A wave of anger and sadness flooded her, filling her with a sudden determination. She dropped the half-full glass on the counter and turned to face Chris, her eyes brimming with pain and indignation.

"Chris." Y/N called, her voice shaking with suppressed emotion, coming out in a more vulnerable tone than she intended. "Can we talk? Please."

Chris blinked, clearly surprised by Y/N's sudden call. His eyes met hers, but he didn't say anything, just waited, as if he feared the words that might fall from his own lips.

He didn't expect her to keep trying.

Y/N felt tears burning in her eyes at the sight of him silent, expressionless, but she fought to hold her ground. She knew she needed to express the emotions that had been stifled within herself. If he didn't want her anymore, that was fine. She understood, but she needed him to formalize the situation.

"I don't know what's going on between us." She continued, clearing her throat, her voice becoming firmer as the words flowed. "But I can't live in this limbo of uncertainty anymore. I deserve better than to be ignored, Chris. We deserve better than this. I want to understand what's going on. What did I do?"

Chris remained staring at her for a few more seconds before lowering his gaze, unable to bear the intensity in Y/N's eyes. He found himself entangled in a web of regret and fear, unable to find the right words to express her feelings.

"I know I've been distant." He finally muttered, his voice thick with pain and his shoulders slumped. "And I'm sorry for that, Y/N. I just... I've been thinking, and I don't know if this is right anymore."

Chris' words cut Y/N like a sharp knife. That was it. He was going to break up with her. It would all come to an end.

She knew it.

"It's okay, it's not your fault." Y/N admitted finally. "It was... It was just a mistake... Right?"

Chris allowed his eyes to run over Y/N's weakened posture, his brow furrowed at her words.

"What was a mistake?"

"Us. We were a mistake...for you, at least." The girl sighed deeply after finishing her sentence, as if something large enough crushed her heart and lungs at the same time, hurting her and taking away all her air.

"No! What? No, honey, you were never a mistake. We... we are not a mistake, I promise you that." Chris perked up, jumping up from his seat, ready to walk over to Y/N, but his feet remained stuck against the floor, preventing him from even moving a centimeter.

"Then why, Chris? Why are you treating me like I'm a stranger? You keep pushing me away even though I try to get closer." She questioned him, thick, fat tears welling up in her eyes, running down her cheeks freely. "God, I did everything in my power to understand you, to talk to you and to make you feel welcomed, despite all the things and affirmations I needed from you too, I don't know anymore-" Her voice was already weakening when a loud and rude sob interrupted her own sentence, her right hand quickly rising towards her slightly open mouth, covering it, trying uselessly to stop the unwelcomed crying.

"Dove, please, I'm sorry for making you feel this way, I don't..." He shook his head, letting out an nervous laugh as his right hand flew to his own face, his index finger and thumb pressing the bridge of his nose, trying to stop his own tears from falling. "It was never my intention. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I just..." The boy's tone became extremely low too quickly, Y/N needing to hold her breath to hear him clearly. "I'm just scared."

"Scared? Scared of what? Do I make you feel scared?"

Chris swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Y/N's words like an anchor in his heart. He knew he needed to be honest with her, even if it meant facing his own demons.

"Scared of commitment... of giving myself completely to someone and ending up hurting myself in the process." His voice was a fragile whisper, loaded with vulnerability. "I know it's not fair to you, Y/N. You deserve someone who can give you the world, someone who isn't afraid to love. But I don't know if I'm that someone."

Y/N's tears continued to fall, a mixture of sadness and frustration that she could barely contain. She wanted to scream, to hit Chris, to demand a clear and definitive explanation. But deep down, she understood his fears, his traumas.

"I understand you're scared, Chris." Her voice was soft now, tinged with compassion, her hands drying her tear-soaked eyelashes roughly, sniffling before speaking again. "And I don't judge you for that, I just needed you to be clear with me, that you trust me enough to talk to me when things get tough. I don't care if you have that fear, I would never invalidate your feelings." She shook her head quickly, as if she wanted to make that clear. "I just wanted to talk, to understand. You left me in the dark."

Chris pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes brimming with emotion as his left hand went to his own hair, ruffling the strands. He knew Y/N was right.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby, I-" The boy took a deep breath, blinking quickly, trying futilely to ward off the tears that wouldn't stop welling up in his eyes. "I tried so hard to make you hate me. It would make everything easier, right? You would get tired at some point and give up. Give up on me. But I just ended up hurting you..." Chris shook his head, biting his bottom lip hard, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth within seconds. "You were breaking up with me, weren't you?" His voice sounded too close to a sob, his lower lip, now hurt, trembling at the thought of no longer having her as his girl, even though that was the plan from the beginning.

"I just thought it was what you wanted. You made it so explicit, Chris. How could I think of any other alternative than that?"

"I'm not too late, am I? To solve this?" His eyes looked like they were close to popping out of his skull when he finally managed to move and was able to walk towards Y/N with quick steps, grabbing her hands pleadingly. "I want to solve this... I'm sorry for what I've put you through these last few days, and I know that just saying sorry won't erase everything that I done, but I'll take care of it. I will take care of you. Please, dove."

"I need to ask you one thing first, Chris. Are you ready to stay in this relationship? I can help you and understand you, but there's no point in trying if you don't genuinely feel ready for this." Y/N explained sincerely, her heart aching with the contact of his skin against her own. She missed his touch so much.

"I do, I want you, only you, all of you, always! Please... please, babe, I-I know that I don't deserve it, but please give me a chance to make this right, to do this properly. Give me the chance to love you the way you deserve." Chris begged, squeezing his girlfriend's fingers between his own, involuntarily pulling her closer. "I want to try again, but properly this time. I want to fight my fears, my demons. And I want to do it with you by my side. Everything seemed so real now. Seeing you trying to break up with me made me realize that I can't see myself without you, I can't."

Y/N kept her eyes fixed on his for long seconds, searching for any trace of doubt, hesitation or lie on his face red and wet with tears, but she could only find a strong mix of hope and love.

She knew the road ahead would be difficult, full of challenges and uncertainty. But for the first time in a long time, she felt a spark of hope light up.

"Okay."

"Yeah? Really?" A low sob escaped Chris's mouth, fat tears rolling down his rosy cheek from the strong emotions in a short space of time, his heart racing strongly against his chest.

"Yeah. I don't want to lose you, so let's do this together." She whispered.

The boy let out a sigh of relief through tears, a small smile taking over his lips in seconds, his hands working to pull hers closer, consequently bringing her body close to his, engulfing her into a tight hug.

"I'm gonna do this right this time."

And she believed him.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[mrs-weasley-reid]

THIS LOVE CAME BACK TO ME

Aaron Hotchner x (former) bau!reader

Sypnosis: A friend's death brings you back to the loving arms of the BAU family. And like a high tide, it also brought back old feelings that Aaron finds difficult to control. WARNING: fluff! cursing. mentions of death, divorce, miscarriage (tell me if I forgot something) A/N: this can be read as a stand alone but is a part 2 for you're too sweet for me. it's loosely inspired by This Love (Taylor's Version)

The sight of you is like a dream.

Aaron thinks it might've been the haze of loss and woe that was making him see things, but it isn't. His breath hitched audibly. The sound causes David and Spencer to turn to Aaron, following his line of sight to where you stand at the front door.

As your eyes roam in the crowd of people clad in black, Aaron is the first you see. Your eyes are rimming with red heat and overflowing with tears. Your feet race to Aaron, snatching him into a tight hug like the cavalry was out to get you, and he is your only lifeline. "Hotch..." Your voice cracks upon his name as you bury your face on his chest, soaking the fabric of his dress shirt like it hadn't been more than a decade since you saw him last.

Shock fills Aaron's chest, but his hands still remember your frame in his arms so well they wrap themselves around your waist like second nature. Lavender and chamomile. You smell just as he remembers. A mixture of solace and gaiety. Your sniffles sound the same. So distinct that his ears itch.

His mind questions whether seventeen years of his life were all a dream and he'd just woken up. Your embrace feels like a day has never gone by, and you two are young and stupid again. Okay, maybe not stupid. You were never stupid. Not a day in your life were you ever stupid. Aaron insists on the thought.

Right then, Aaron decides that you are real because no one else in his life has ever grabbed him into a bone-crushing hug the way you do. Arms wrapped around his neck like vines. Toes pointed at the earth so you could reach his insane height. He can only think of one other person who'd do that: Jack. But the boy could barely wrap his arms around Aaron's legs at the moment, so it was definitely you.

He closes his eyes, and tears quickly trickle down his face like he's been holding it in. He was. He is under the impression that with all the tearful sobs his team has wept, he should at least swallow his. As usual, he wanted to be a strong foundation for the others. A shoulder they can cry on. So, Aaron forbade himself to cry. At least not in front of everyone.

But then your hold is so tight the heartache finally explodes. You roll in with the reminder that he is permitted to cry, too. To feel the sorrow. To crumble like everyone else in the room.

"I came as soon as I heard," You muffle in his shirt, pulling away to wipe your bottomless tears with the back of your hand.

It takes all of Aaron not to hold you back when your body leaves his cold and empty. Your peripheral had caught David's familiar figure, prompting an automatic brain response to capture him into a hug.

Aaron watches as you exit out of David's embrace, forty-five seconds shorter than his. He doesn't let himself think too hard of it. Afraid that he is to get his hopes up for nothing.

David pats your back, "Glad to see you, kid."

There it is.

Your smile.

A smile so bright it blurs out your chapped lips and runny makeup, "I missed you."

Aaron swears he would've fainted if you'd said that to the Aaron Hotchner from seventeen years ago. The one who can't even pluck up the courage to tell you his feelings. As if he's got the prowess to do it now. As if he hasn't been feeling like a schoolgirl, giddy with any kind of affection you offer him in the past three minutes.

For a moment, Aaron let himself indulge in the delusion that you came for him and only him. His bubble burst into a sharp pop in an instant, though. Because then your eyes shift away from him, "I missed everyone." You reiterate with much clearer keywords.

A tug aches Aaron's chest. How can he forget? You are kind to everyone. You are a safe space for everyone. A light for everyone. So, as special as your embrace was for him, it was a normal thing for you.

Then the realization hits him. He was at a funeral, for Pete's sake. He beats himself up mentally. For letting his unrequited feelings for you go rogue like wild animals, hysterical.

Focus, Aaron. He scolds himself.

Your effect on him is still as rabid as ever. He hates it a bit. Blames your perfection in his eyes. Blames himself for still harboring feelings that should've withered years ago. How the love glowed in the darkest depths of his chest as soon as you'd said his name. How a glimpse of you revived every piece of shattered heart. How the high tide of your arrival brought in waves and waves of his feelings back. He claims you are being unfair. Considering the fact that you are oblivious and at no fault.

A cough cuts the reunion short.

Aaron's thoughts dissipate like a fog blown by a violent wind. He mentally thanks the person for bringing him back to reality.

The three of you turn to Derek Morgan. You don't know the man, but you offer him a soft smile—one with your lips closed but curvy enough to be friendly or display an apology—in hopes that he doesn't form the wrong impression of you.

Other faces come into view. Now you wonder who they might be and what special place they hold in Jason Gideon's loving memory. Was he a mentor, a boss, a friend, or a family? Because your senses have never let you down, feeling the capacity of their mourning through their sullen faces and glossy eyes.

Then again, it has been years since you stepped foot on American soil. You aren't sure how many people Jason Gideon made acquaintance with. Maybe you were smiling too widely that it offended people. It's his funeral after all.

Aaron doesn't let your thoughts wander too far, clearing his throat. As if he sensed your insecurities rattle in the pit of your stomach. If you were flushed by it, your puffy face hid it well. He stands between you and the group of people who watched him in detail.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet an important vessel of the behavioral analysis unit..." Aaron introduces you with great renown. He says your first name with an undertone the team picks up but doesn't mention. "We worked on many cases together when the unit was too small to focus on one case at a time." He turns his entire body to face you. A hand makes its way to the lower of your back as if to tell you that the strangers are safe enough to be in close proximity with. "These are agents Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Kate Callahan, Dr. Spencer Reid, and tech analyst Penelope Garcia. The A team." He beams with pride like he'd just shown you his golden medals.

Your jaw drops, hands landing over your chest as a soft gasp escapes you. You look between Aaron and David to confirm, earning two series of nods. "This is the team? Like a team, team?" You can't help but tear up from the utter joy that rushed through your veins.

The said team found you overdramatic. They exchange looks between them. A silent conversation, judging whether they should let their eccentric impression of you stick or give you another chance to redeem yourself. They guessed that the death of a friend may have contributed to your screwy image.

Still, a woman with a kind smile and breathtaking beauty doesn't hesitate to approach you. "You can call me JJ," She starts and offers her hand. You shake it firmly like she's about to interview you for a job. "I used to work with Gideon as a liaison. I never imagined that I'd be one of the profilers who'd solve his case." An awkward smile laces atop her lips, also shock with the randomness of her last words.

Wonderment masked your face. The fact you were supposedly at a funeral was forgotten momentarily. You glance at David with twinkling eyes. "A liaison?" You squeal in a whisper.

"Wait until Penelope Garcia shakes your hand," David whispers back as he leans close to you.

You follow his subtle gaze at the other blonde woman across. Technical Analyst. You remind yourself. An amused scoff bounces off your throat.

Aaron chuckles and hands you a square cloth, "A lot has changed since you left. We have a floor to ourselves now." He is unaware of the team's watchful eyes, taking notes of his every motion next to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry," You take his handkerchief and blot your weepy face. "I must look crazy." A bright giggle roars out of you. "It's just... There were only four of us as a unit, and we had to share our workspace with other units. Cases took a lot more time to solve back in the day."

"How long?" Penelope curiously asks, as if it is the most important detail she has yet to hear. She is a sunshine. It takes one to know one. You swear she's glowing despite the dry mascara stain on her face from all the tears early on the day.

"Too long," You shake your head, trailing off as your face flashes a dreadful expression. "I'm just glad all of you were there to solve Jason's case. I really wanted to help, but I had important matters to take care of." You vaguely share. Your mind quickly shoves the thoughts that you deem irrelevant to the moment.

"You knew Gideon?" The tall boy with unruly hair asks with sorrowful eyes. Dr. Spencer Reid. He had a frown on his face.

"You're not the first genius Jason picked up," David quips, causing a chuckle to most except the young doctor.

Spencer throws his gaze somewhere else. He has been impacted by Jason's death more than anyone else on the team. The tear stains on his face had yet to fade. So, joking about Jason still made his heart ache.

You glance at Aaron, asking him all the questions in your head without letting it slip out of your mouth. Your connection never broke. He could hear your questions loud and clear just by meeting your eyes, and it felt euphoric. Still, he concentrates on your airy curiosity, nodding once.

Just like that, your attention drew to Spencer, "He used to beat me in chess." You state at random, making the group quiet.

Spencer offers you a tight-lipped, wistful smile, "Me too."

You walk closer to him with a soft smile and a "has he ever given you tickets?" The two of you took off to another part of the room, chatting, cheering him up just a bit.

Somehow, the small interaction between you and Spencer made Aaron explode in happiness. He doesn't know why exactly, but it felt fatherly. He wasn't too far older than Spencer, but he'd watched him grow into a great profiler. He knew Spencer like the back of his hand, even if bits of Spencer's life were swept under his palm. So, he knew that it wasn't easy for Spencer to be generously welcoming, especially when someone important to his life just died. And when you knew exactly what to say, understood what Aaron's nod meant, it made his heart swollen. You bonded with Spencer in mere seconds as if you were the one to give him life. Aaron adored it. He couldn't explain the reason, but he hoped that Spencer could find refuge with you.

The day wheels into the night. Fewer and fewer people scatter around Stephen Gideon's residence. You find yourself standing by the terrace with David and Aaron, reminiscing the old days, coddling a glass of whiskey.

Aaron is stunned by your choice of alcohol. He remembers you preferring a much sweeter drink.

"I've always liked whiskey," You correct him gently. A laugh forced its way out against the neat liquid sliding down your throat.

"That sounds wrong," Aaron chuckles, "I swear you even hated it with a passion."

You give him a weird look with a subtle grin, "You must be thinking of someone else because Jason and I like the same exact brand of whiskey. You're getting old, Hotchner." You tease, hiding the butterflies in your stomach.

Aaron's eyes widen as he points an accusatory finger at you, "Jason introduced me to whiskey! You're definitely lying!"

"Well, duh!" You roll your eyes, "It's Jason. He's practically our father." You state, straightening your back as you lean against the railing. The wind whips across your face.

"So, what? I was just a fly on the wall? I'm starting to regret calling you back home." David interjects, spreading his arms as he furrows his brows. He caters to his own glass in the comfort of a chair.

"You're mother bird. Everybody knows that," You grin. The urge to cry has finally stopped. Though, you suspect it was the jet lag and hunger from the ghastly flight.

The three of you fell into fits of laughter. Well, just you. Aaron and David only had wide grins on their faces. After all these years, they still refused to laugh loudly. You didn't mind it, though. Because you felt at home.

Aaron nudges your shoulder, "How'd you get here so fast? If I'm not mistaken, the flight from Paris to Virginia is at least nine hours long." He tries to sound casual, like he hadn't looked up the distance long ago and that, for some reason, he kept the knowledge tucked in one of the wrinkles in his brain.

A smug grin made its way to your face, "Does the BAU have a jet?" You brag, sipping your glass empty as you raise your chin with pride.

"You'd be surprised," David takes the liberty to respond, shaking his head while his brows raise in disbelief. A ring brings his attention to his phone on the table but continues to finish his thoughts out loud. "The team's filled with young people now, and suddenly, I'm ancient history. Hold on, you two. I need to take this." And he slips back inside the house to find a quieter space.

You and Aaron exchange looks.

A smile slowly lifted the ends of his lips. It was a handsome sight.

It felt like time had stopped.

You break from his gaze, "So? How's everything? How long has it been? Like, thirteen—"

"Seventeen," Aaron cuts you off, nonchalantly drowning his throat with liquor.

You blink, "That long?" He nods at the air. "Damn, Hotch. You're making me feel old." You nudge his side, though you barely caused any impact. Your brows are drawn as if you aren't certain whether to take it lightly or feel slightly offended.

He rolls his eyes. Had his team know how much of his expressive side had the habit of showing every time he was with you, they'd start a riot.

"You didn't age a day. You still look young." You still look beautiful.

"Flattery won't get you access to the French database, Hotch. You know that." You kid, playing with the ice cubes in your glass. The clinking sound makes you smile. You convince yourself it was the reason, at least.

"You caught me," Aaron says in a sarcastic tone. He lets the silence sink in for a moment, spoiling himself with your presence for a brief moment. Just for a second, he wants to keep the moment to himself. Just the two of you. Just you and him.

And when he felt satisfied enough, he brought his life into the mix, "I got married." He almost jumps from his spot at the sudden snap of your neck. You beam with excitement, encouraging him to say more. "Haley... she was a great woman, person. We have a son, Jack. He's nine years old."

You looked like a child listening to a fairytale. You pat his shoulder, "Hotch, that's so amazing! Are they here? Did you bring them with you?" You glance inside the sliding glass door, scanning the crowd.

He should've continued talking. "W-we... We got divorced, and... she died," Aaron's voice got lower with each syllable, completely soundless by the end of his sentence. He doesn't know why he feels shame. It has been years, and even if it still makes him sad sometimes, Aaron takes pride in the fact that Haley sacrificed her life.

"What?" The excitement plummets off your chest.

Aaron takes a big gulp. You'd missed so much it became difficult to tell you more. "She died. Five years ago." He clears his throat, "But I'm okay now. Jack and I are doing well on our own."

Your expression softens, and a hand unconsciously sits atop his hand, "I'm so sorry, Hotch." You squeeze his hand. Part of you felt guilty for feeling excited, for getting ahead of yourself like usual. You fear that your enthusiasm may have caused Aaron triple the heartache he is already feeling.

"It's a long time ago. I'm really fine. Jack's growing up like a spitting image of her. He's an amazing kid." He doesn't want to bring the mood down. He's honest when he says that he feels fine. "Enough about me. How about you? Do you have anyone waiting in France? Any kids?" If he can recall, you always told him how badly you wanted to have a family.

You lick your lower lip into a thin purse. You gaze at the evening view of the backyard with a heavy sigh, loosening your shoulders, "I was going to..." Aaron's brows scrunched at the way you phrased your response, but he didn't say anything. "Before I became the chief, I was part of the undercover agents. Days before my new assignment, I found out that I was pregnant. Louis wanted me to take a break from work, but I insisted that I work. The day I learned I was going to have a boy, I got caught in a crossfire. I tried to fight for him, but it was either me or him." You release a heavy sigh, "The doctors chose me. They chose wrong... Louis blamed me for losing our baby. I still do, too. We had a hard time bouncing back up after that. We just finalized our divorce yesterday." You smile weakly at Aaron, masking the hurt that pierced every inch of your heart. You quickly swipe the single drop of tear that managed to trail down your cheek.

Aaron glances at your intertwined hands. He feels guilty for liking it despite the dense atmosphere of your conversation. So, he lets go of it to snake an arm around your shoulders, giving you a tight side hug. "Don't say that, sweetheart..." The endearment rolls off his tongue like butter. He doesn't dwell on it, eager to lessen your pain. "I'm certain that he's glad you lived. He wouldn't have liked the world if he never got the chance to be raised by you." He starts to imagine how awful Louis looks and how much Aaron would make him look worse. He's barely known the guy, but he despises how horrible he's treated you at the time you needed a loving husband the most.

The next thirty minutes became quiet, and Aaron thought that maybe catching up wasn't such a great idea. He should've known that your lives weren't exactly on the greener side.

Then he wonders what life would've been if you hadn't left. He shakes his head. Despite the unrequited love he had for you, he still loved Haley with all his heart and would never change anything if it meant Jack being born. He assumes you'd think the same.

"I sometimes wish I came back here, you know." You blurt out as if you are reading straight from his mind like a book, breaking the silence. "I missed out on so much. Your wedding. You becoming a father. David's other weddings... Jason. I wish I was here for everything." You lean your head against him, letting his warmth spread on your skin. "I don't regret going to France or anything that happened in my life, but I wish I could've been in both places at the same time."

Aaron nods, "Yeah, it would've been nice to have you here." He thinks otherwise because he wishes you stayed. He hoped that despite his cowardness, he'd got you around the block and not a continent away.

He takes it up to himself to change the topic into a lighter tone.

He starts talking about Jack and the satisfying struggles of fatherhood. He shows you videos and photos from his phone. You are engaged in a heartbeat, laughing at the littlest humor he'd throw in. You adored his son. That made Aaron beam with pride. Granted, a lot of people have told him the same thing, but coming from you, it was like he'd received an accolade.

Somewhere in the evening, Stephen steals you from Aaron's company. You're easily filled with joy at the sight of an old friend, ignoring the fact that Jason's son used to have a childish crush on you. Other old acquaintances got a hold of you, too.

Aaron never got to see you again for the rest of the evening.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

It has been eleven months since Aaron last saw you when his peripheral caught your figure as soon as he stepped inside David's home.

"She's with the team," David announces casually.

Aaron's brows knit together as he brings his gaze back to David, "What's that?"

"I said she's with the team," David repeats, glancing down the hallway. "You better catch her before she leaves. I got lucky when I called her. She's about to take her flight back to France. This is why I set an arrival time—" Before he could finish his last sentence, Aaron was already halfway down.

Jack Hotchner watches as his father speedwalks inside David's house, "Is Dad okay?" He looks up at David with worried eyes.

"He's alright," David pats Jack's head. "See, kiddo. Your dad used to have a crush on someone before he married your mom."

"Is she pretty? Is she nice?" Jack queries.

David smiles, "How about you decide yourself?" He guides the young Hotchner toward the center of the celebration.

Meanwhile, you are in the middle of wishing Dr. Tara Lewis good luck for her new place in the BAU when Aaron calls your name. You pivot on your heels. A smile instantly brightens your face at the sight of Aaron, "Hotch!" You exclaim, engulfing him in a hug.

"You should've told me you were in the area." Aaron's grin is brighter than yours.

Unbeknownst to him, a couple of watchful profilers keep their eyes peeled at you and Aaron.

"Are they?" Tara trails off next to Penelope.

"They worked on many cases together," Penelope replies suggestively, wiggling her brows as she sips from her swirly straws.

JJ grins at the conversation, "He's like an entirely different person with her. Think of Spencer." She hides a grin behind her glass of wine.

Spencer furrows his brows as he looks at JJ. "Should I be offended?" He clutches the mug of eggnog close to his chest.

"No," JJ shakes her head defensively, elongating the last letter. The others erupt into silent chuckles.

Derek nudges Penelope while he's got an arm wrapped around Savannah, nodding towards you and Aaron's direction, "Look. Hotch is about to introduce Jack to her. How much are you betting he's trying to get Jack's approval? Will Jack even like her? She looked crazy at first—Ow!" He rubs the side Savannah just elbowed, wincing.

Jack shyly stands in front of his father as he looks up at you. You had no doubt he looked a lot like his mother now that you'd meet him in person. You don't forget about Aaron, though, because they had matching eyebrows that narrow every time they attempt to read someone intently.

You squat down to Jack's height, "Nice to meet you, Jack. Your dad has told me a lot of great things about you!" You rummage into your bag, fishing out a huge peppermint lollipop disk. "I didn't expect to meet you today, so I wasn't prepared to bring a gift you'd like, but you can have this if you want it."

Jack glances at his dad from behind him and then back to you. A wide smile spreads across his face as he takes the sweet from you, "I like this one, too! Thank you!" You almost stumble down when he launches to hug you.

"You're welcome!" Your giggle echoes in the entire house. You hadn't expected him to attack you with a hug, let alone a stranger you'd identify yourself as.

Aaron couldn't help but feel overjoyed. He doesn't know how to keep his heart from beating faster as you glance at him with a tooth-rottenly sweet smile while hugging his son.

You really were unfair to him.

He's hopeless. A lost cause. He should've known from years ago. Should've known that you'd leave a permanent mark on him.

"Dad," Jack gestures for Aaron to get down. He leans close as soon as his father oblige to his command, covering his mouth.

Aaron's eyes subtly widen. His ears burn into a beet-red blush. He clears his throat, "How about you say hi to the others? Play with Henry and Reid, okay?" He dismisses, ignoring the innocent words that rang in his ears. He gently pushes Jack toward the team's direction.

"He's such a sweetheart," You say as you get back on your feet. You glance at Aaron, "You're doing amazing. He's lucky to have you." You turn to the team. Laughters passed between one another. "They're all lucky to have you." You add, crossing your arms on your chest.

"She's good," Savannah nods in amazement. She's only heard of you from Derek but can finally see the difference in Aaron's demeanor the moment he caught a glimpse of you.

"Who randomly has a giant lollipop in their bag?" Derek states in disbelief, the total opposite of how Savannah reacted. He hands JJ a ten-dollar bill, though.

Spencer shrugs, "I would've been way nicer to her if she offered me one last time." He pouts at the sight of Jack waving the lollipop like a taunt.

JJ and Tara laugh.

"Oh, shoot!" You exclaim, twisting your wrist to glimpse at the time. "I still have to pass by somewhere before my flight. Say bye to Dave for me, yeah?" The rush makes you quite frantic, pulling Aaron in. You leave a peck on his cheek, patting his shoulders like it's tradition. "Merry Christmas, Aaron." You bid farewell with a smile and began to walk.

"Wait—" Aaron grabs your wrist. It's so small in his hand. He makes sure he held you tight in a gentle grip. The last thing he wants is to break your wrist.

Your body recoils a few steps back to him as a product of his pull. "Yes?" Anticipation sparks in your eyes as you wait for his response. You must've drank wine too fast because electricity surged through veins, all coming from his firm hold.

A huge lump forms in his throat. "I—" Suddenly, Aaron is tongue-tied.

I want you to stay.

He fights hard to swallow the rock that kept him from talking and clearing his throat. "I'll walk with you," He wishes the ground would swallow him whole. But he suspects that even the devil himself is too embarrassed for him to let him in.

"Oh..." You don't know why you felt disappointed. What were you even expecting in the first place? You flash a smile, though. "Sure."

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron stays at David's for two more hours before he decides that Jack needs to catch up on some sleep before they leave for Jessica's place in the morning. So, he drives through the light traffic, listening to Jack sing along the radio.

Jingle Bell Rock had just ended, and the DJ interjects for an update about the evening traffic during the transition to the next song when Jack asks a question. "Where did your crush go, Dad?" He inquires all too nonchalantly.

"What did you say?" It takes everything in Aaron to will his eyes to stay on the road and his hands to keep complete control of the wheel. He glances at Jack from the rearview mirror.

"The pretty, nice lady who gave me this," Jack hoists the lollipop in his hand like a wand. He takes a taste of it and adds, "You think she likes Christmas movies? Can we invite her?"

Aaron blinks fast. He couldn't believe how much Jack had grown fond of you in only minutes of interacting with him. He ponders whether you're some kind of a witch. He clears his throat in an obvious fake cough, "I'm sure she'd love to, buddy."

"Can you call her to come back? We can invite her for hot cocoa!"

"Sorry, buddy," Aaron feels bad. He doesn't even know your phone number, even if he could get it within seconds from Penelope. "She had to go and do some work. Maybe n-next time." He isn't sure why he was stuttering in front of his child.

"You didn't ask her to stay?"

It felt like a freezing wave of water filled with ice washed over Aaron. Then, for a moment, he feels proud to know that Jack's innocence has given him the bravery Aaron couldn't even muster.

"No, bud... I didn't." He admits more melancholy to a nine-year-old than he intended to.

Jack sighs, "Aww. Yeah, maybe next time, Dad. I'm sure she'll like to hang out with you if you give her a lollipop. She'll think you're nice. It worked for me. I think she's really nice." He stares at the molded sugar in his hand.

Aaron couldn't believe his son was talking some sense into him. Where did the time go? Jack sounds more mature than Aaron has ever felt for months since he's seen you after years. He tightens his grip on the wheel, clenching his jaw from the sudden torrent of courage that blazes his chest.

"Jack, would you mind passing by somewhere before we go home?"

The boy shakes his head, "It's okay as long as you're okay with me staying past my bed time." Jack giggles.

Aaron chuckles, "I'll let it slide this time," He jests, then turns the wheel and heads to the airport.

You come back from the restroom, looking for a place to sit and wait, when a small figure wraps his arms around your torso, "Jack? What are you doing here? Are you by yourself? Are you okay?" You quickly scan him from head to toe. You could barely move from the way he held you.

He's okay. You tell yourself. Had he been hurt you weren't sure how to face his father.

"I found her, Dad!" Jack shouts, earning looks from exhausted patrons. He leans backwards but still tangled around your legs like his life depended on it.

You panic for a second. Unsure what to make out of his statement. You look around first to mutter an apology on behalf of the boy, but somewhere along the lines you felt like you were a mother denying her child.

"Great job, Jack." You hear a voice so familiar you needn't have to look up to confirm your guess. Aaron walks closer to the two of you out of breath. He tries to play it out but the rise and drop of his shoulders didn't pass your gaze.

You lift your vision up and meet with Aaron's heaving self. "Hotch? What's going on? Is everything okay?" You coax like you aren't sure if he's going to tell you the truth.

Aaron tucks a portion of his lower lip. Fuck. He ran out of courage. His throat is tight. His brain is frozen. His body is stiff.

Jack takes his father's hand and pulls him closer to where you stood. He looks up at you, "Dad has a crush on you. I also think you're nice. Can you watch Christmas movies and drink hot cocoa with us, please?" He says intelligently like he's tired of his father freezing on the spot whenever he faces you.

Your brows knit together, but a huge grin raises the ends of your lips. "He what?" You meet Aaron's blushing gaze. You've never seen his neck, face, and ears glow in rosy red except that one time during an undercover case.

Aaron melts into a chuckle, lowering his head. "I, uh..." He scoffs a laugh, "I can't believe you heard it from Jack first." He meets your eye once more, "Would you mind staying for a bit?" It's clear he has no idea what he was doing. He thinks he's about looking idiotic in front of many people and, most importantly, his son.

You hear your name from below, looking down at Jack as he gestures for you to go down. You do as he says, leaning close when he moves next to your ear, "Dad is very shy, but he really likes you. He smiles when he talks to you. I think he would be happy if you hang out with us." Jack whispers so well Aaron is left to wonder.

"You really think so?" You ask audibly for the sake of Aaron's sanity. You ruffle Jack's hair as he nods eagerly. "I don't mind at all," You smile at Aaron so sweet he feels euphoric.

All three of you leave the airport. The traffic then has grown more difficult to maneuver into, and by the time Aaron parks his car in the driveway, Jack is already ten minutes in his sleep.

You chuckle as you both turn to the backseat, "I stand corrected," You smirk, "I think you're lucky to have him."

"Yeah," Aaron titters, "He's a lot braver than me." He adds gently, reaching out to fix Jack's hair.

A comfortable silence basks the two of you. Jack's soft breathing faintly rings in the background as if both of you had to make sure he's there.

Aaron looks at you, though. He relishes the way the dim light from outside casts a shadow on your face. He loves the way your soft features are still visible despite the dark. "Stay," He blurts out.

"Sure, I'll stay 'til I find another flight—"

"No, I meant..." He struggles to swallow the saliva in his mouth. "I want you to stay. Here... with me." Aaron shifts his eyes down on the gearstick. "I'm not saying that I never loved Haley, but I never stopped loving you." He's sure that no normal person would declare their love the way he just did. He hoped that some foreign spaceship would open the roof of his car and take him away. "I don't know if I make sense. I'm certain that I'm ruining my chances the more I speak, but I want you to stay. I should've asked you to stay a long time ago."

Your gaze sinks into Aaron's eyes. You tuck your lips. Then, you smile. "I agree," You acknowledge, moving your eyes on his lips for a milisecond.

Aaron straightens his back, "I know it's been years," He babbles a laugh, moving his hands as he speaks. "It's okay if you don't— wait—" He blinks once or twice. "Did you just agree? To what exactly?" Only you can make him stumble on his own thoughts.

"I'll stay," You declare, biting the inside of your lower lip. You scoff a silent laugh, "I should've done this a long time ago."

"Done what?" Aaron narrows his brows.

Your gaze jumps between his eyes and his lips, "This," You cup his face with both your hands, clashing your lips like he's in need of saving from a true love's kiss.

Aaron melts into your hold. Not long does he track his hands up your shoulders. Then, to your back, pulling you closer. His hands travel all over you, exploring every inch.

All his life he's seen you as some idea of sweet poison. But as his lips dance with yours, he couldn't ignore the lingering bitter taste of whiskey. He laughs into the kiss. He's been ignorant, wrapped in a saccharine image of you. Was he so wrong for that.

He claims you're still too sweet for him, but was he so glad you came back to him.

Jack moves in his sleep. You both freeze on the spot, lightly pushing Aaron to create space between you.

A soft giggle echoes from your lips, leaning your forehead against his shoulder, "We should bring him upstairs."

"I think that's a good idea," Aaron quips. He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens his door, but before he gets out, he steals another peck on your lips.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

you 🤝me for yan! neuvilette 🤗

Yandere! Neuvillette

(be warned, probably OOC. Brought up his dragon biology, but also probably wrong lol. Just your normal brainrot at 3am in the morning. NSFW ahead, a bit of noncon, with fem!reader)

Neuvi being all kind and partial at first to you, the same way he treated most of the people of Fontaine.

Neuvi hearing from the melusines that you brings them cute baked goods from your bakery.

Had a first taste of them when he caught you in the act of giving one to melusines by the opera house

Was pleasantly surprised by how good it tastes, wants to have more, ended up being a regular at your bakery.

Turns out you haven't done any legal papers for your bakery yet, so it's not open to the public.

Torn between helping you with legalities and having your baked goods shared with people, or not help you and horde your baked goods by himself for a little while longer.

Not until those baked goods became your attention.

Found himself always staring at you whenever you got out off your shop/home and buying ingredients.

The sun always shine bright yet the atmosphere cool whenever he's with you, but then it turns to a rain whenever he had to leave you.

Neuvi being jealous for the first time when you interacted a little bit too friendly to the shop owner you frequent.

Finding out the owner has been your friend for a very long time.

Yan! Neuvi being disgusted and at conflict with himself as he searches through that friend's file, finding out more about them, eyes sharpening as his information told him your friend has liked you for a long time.

His dragon instincts, once dormant, awoken, and it altered the chemistry inside of him.

Anxiety riddled the man as these complex emotions took hold of his throat, choking him from the overwhelming feelings he had for you.

It's not healthy, he's painfully aware of that.

But whenever he looked at you, he felt that it's so right to have you in his arms.

Emotions were never his strong suit. As the rain falls and the sky darkened, his cheeks pale and dry, he watches as you run away from the rain to the shade with your friend, a big smile and a chatter to your face.

He's scared for the first time as he approaches you one day, fully spent and bursting from the seams.

He ignored his feelings far too long to the point that it's overflowing, flooding his once sound mind and heart. Corrupting him with love.

Yan! Neuvi confessing to you, telling you he loved you dearly that it hurts.

Yan! Neuvi, scared of his own feelings, aware that it's not what love is supposed to look like, yet had the courage to confess still.

If reciprocated, the winds will stop howling as the storm subsided, but yan! Neuvi's love will choke you. His anxiousness of not always being with you, not knowing your every move, will strain the relationship more than help.

If not reciprocated... Fontaine will drown.

Yan! Neuvillette, months into the relationship, awoken his dragon instincts once dormant.

Became a bit more possessive, bit by bit, little by little it's not even noticable.

Scales decorates his cheeks, like a blue blush littered with freckles.

An itch by his tailbone, as if wanting to escape.

Yan! Neuvillette never noticed it, as he's too busy with you.

Not until his rut took ahold of him.

Yan! Neuvillette, eyes wide, hastily rescheduled trials to next week. As the first week of his rut will be the worst.

He wanted to seek you out so bad, breed you until you cry, to pump you full of his seed.

But he gritted his teeth and stayed inside his home.

The people were worried, and you were too. The melusines had a vague idea, but all they knew for sure is to never, ever let people panic and worry.

You on the other hand, foolishly took a hike to his home.

Bad mistake.

Even before you knocked, the doors opened, making you curiously enter the home and it closes behind you like a cliche horror movie.

A trail of blue light, and a peculiar scent drove you to a double door, making you gulp.

You knew from Furina that he became quite snappy days before this... Week long hideaway, so you didn't know what to expect.

But you didn't expect being under him, face down, ass up, with him behind you, pressing his hips against yours.

His body, fully slotted against your back, felt so hot. His face, close to your cheeks, breathed warm air as he covered your mouth.

"I'm sorry, my love. Bare with me. Your scent is driving me quite... Hah...."

A shaky voice, his hips bucking into yours against clothed parts, his hand clasping your mouth shut and the other teasingly playing with the band of your pants.

You asked him what's wrong.

"rut... It's been quite a while since I had this... But I swear I am no juvenile dragon desperately seeking release... Forgive me.... Hng..."

You knew he's a dragon, he said it before, but being on the blunt end of his rut of all things was scary, yet somehow exciting.

So you kept quiet as he continued to grind his hard on against your slowly getting wet core.

It felt good, the way his large body covered yours as he ground against you. Everytime you move, his legs will strongly keep you in place, making you helpless to his pleasures all the while he kept apologizing.

You decided to give him your consent, making him shiver.

"this... This is not just one of, my love. It will be for a week. A different race and specie as you may, but there's a possibility you will be..."

Yan! Neuvillette's hand snaked around your torso and his hot palm settling down on your abdomen, where your womb is, making you shiver.

You nodded, not knowing if you'll regret this once it actually happens.

Yan! Neuvillette, now with explicit consent, took off your clothes hastily and pressed down your face and body, front down on the bed, and took off his.

He positioned himself between you, and his long, slender fingers teased your core.

"Oh, love. Look at you, so wet for me... I'll be making sure to breed you successfully... You'll be mine, for eternity."

With that promise, he slowly enters a digit or two, loosening you up and making you moan to the bed. Gripping the sheets from the sparks eminating from your body.

God knows how bad yan! Neuvillette was holding himself back as he watched you squirm and pant, his cock straining against his underwear.

"Why wait... Ugh... You're so... Hng..."

A blabbering nonsense, this once so smart and righteous man fell from grace as he felt his tip against your folds slowly pushing in. Veins bulged against his arms as he gritted his teeth, jaw flexed.

Once he fully got enveloped by your warmth, he fully placed his weight down on your back, his lips finding a way to your neck and slowly kissed it as he waited for you to adjust to his size.

At first it was slow. Deliberate, sensual. Until it turned to a rhythm, then a desperate need to rut inside of you.

His teeth finding way to the base of your neck and biting it, marking you as his and making you scream.

Clenching around him, he held your hips as he rutted desperately inside of you, an insane need to breed you till you fall apart.

"My love, come on, I know you want to give it to me... Come undone, please."

His long, hard shaft slid in and out of you accompanied by an embarrassing cacophony of wetness and skin slapping. Hitting your most favorable spots that make you squirm and moan.

You saw stars as you gave in, the breath knocked out of you as he came inside also, making him gasp in pleasure.

Emptying inside of you but not pulling out, he gave small Eskimo kisses on your mark.

To hide from shame, he doesn't want to see your face as he continued to breed you in a prone bone position for the night.

He's aware, too aware that this is wrong.

But it felt too good to stop.

And he had your consent, so what's the hold up?

But be patient, let him come around to terms as he whispered sweet and dirty nothings in your ear, a desperation to impregnate you running through his blood due to his rut.

And maybe, by the third, fourth, or so on days on his rut, he'll be able to face you, and face the consequences of his actions.

[marksbear2]

Um. Sure. Suguru Geto x top male reader because why not

SUGURU GETO X TOP MALE READER

⚠️Warnings- power bottom Suguru, smut headcanons, edging, orgasm torture, riding, kinky, blowjob and handjob. And more. ⚠️

— He’s very soft spoken during sex, he’d the type of guy to moan closely to your es making sure that you can hear him.

— Pulling and tugging his his hair is an major turn on for him. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

— He prefers taking it from the back, giving you easy freedom space for you could thrust and move freely.

— If your bodies are pressed closely together he’d kiss all over your neck and shoulders trailing up to your jaw and ear before kissing your lips finally.

— He teases you if your being to gentle on him.

— He would randomly throughout the day giving you an handjob edging you throughout the day.

— Though your the top in the relationship he still likes to take charge and be the dominant one.

— Him having very sensitive nipples.

— He could cum untouched just by you playing with his nipples, for example you licking, sucking and biting onto them.

— Torturing your cock by him not letting you cum until he came at least two or more times.

— He’s completely fine with you and Gojo having an threesome together. Though he was hesitant to ask but he gets the courage to do so.

— Or Shoko if you want, or all there’s friends. Suguru, Satoru and Shoko laying on the backs waiting patiently for you to decide who to fuck first.

— He likes playing with your cock in his mouth.

— You two taking turns sucking each other off. It’s become an regular couple thing you two do.

— Fucking him as he wear his robes.

— Having blood sex, the blood of his latest murder on his and clothes as you thrust your cock deep inside him. His bloody hands smearing against your shoulders and neck.

— He lowkey gets jealous whenever ‘Monkeys’ a you are around them, which leads into lots of jealousy sex.

— Whenever he was mentally spiraling, whenever you got to visit him you two would just lay naked for skin to skin contact cuddling without words, but your presence was enough for him.

— He loves riding you, it’s another way he loves torturing your cock. He bounces on your cock which movement faster than the last.

— H we takes your hands and guide them up his body like his exposed belly and chest and soon enough his neck making you choke him.

— He’s open to exploring things. Whatever kinks you like or desires he’s open to exploring into them and learning about it.

— You awoken his breeding kink.

— He loves your cum leaking out of his overflowed hole, it turns him on so much he considers never letting wear an condom again.

— He likes talking you through while you fuck him. Telling you how he wants it and how fast.

— His eyes are so captivating during it, as if he was an siren.

— Eyes of desire and lust, each glance of his eyes are saying unspoken words of desire.

THE END

[azrielhours]

Hey rags! I was thinking about the fact that Azriel isn’t unhappy but he is lonely, i would love to read something written by you were Azriel is just extremely happy when he finds his mate and they’re both laying naked on bed and he is just thinking about how lonely he was and he didn’t even notice until now. Maybe he kept having lovers to try and fill that loneliness inside him but it didn’t work, it’s just with his mate he feels loved

Love Letter

wc: 500

Laying with Azriel was one of the best parts of being with him.

Sex aside, passion and loud loving, explicit testimonies—

The quiet peace of being with him was unparalleled. You sighed, snuggling closer, breathing him in deeply. Relishing his naked glory pressing heat into your skin. Pressing safety onto it. In it, as you so often felt strumming down the bond.

He stroked your back. This was routine after lovemaking, and it was just as good as the erotic high.

You open your body to him, your heart, and now the bond.

A sensation of bittersweetness flowing through it had you cracking an eye open.

He continued to stroke your back, gazing absently, still at the ceiling.

The feeling persisted. A tang of ancient ache hummed through your chest cavity.

You frowned. “Az?”

He looked down at you.

“You okay?”

His brows rose slightly. “Yes, my love. Why?”

You bit your lip. The feeling had halted, but whatever had prompted it…

“I—uh, could feel—” This was new, the transmission of soul, and yet—“Um, the bond, baby,” you finished quietly. “Is… everything okay?” Had you done something wrong?

“Oh,” he breathed. He searched your eyes as you waited apprehensively. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was just, uh—” he broke your gaze, seeking courage beyond the vulnerability in your eyes that threatened his resolve greater than even an open mating bond did his honesty.

A deep breath. “I was just… remembering,” he spoke softly. Swallowing. “How it felt before all this. Before I got to have you.”

Oh. “How did it feel?”

Azriel met your gaze again. “I’d been so lost. Just… existing. Waiting.” Seeking. He didn’t want to think about how he sought it with his whole being—a mate. How he drained himself onto females, old and new lovers, strangers, chasing physical intimacy like empty promises, trying to fill the soul-deep void. Failing over and over. He took another steadying breath. “I’ve always known I craved a mate, but having you now, I guess I—just never truly understood how alone I’d been.” Save for now, with the abundance of you filling him, utterly overflowing. Waking him up.

Your heart broke. He felt that too, resuming stroking your back, pulling you tighter. Reassuring you in the wake of his confession.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

He huffed a laugh. “What for?”

You shrugged. “For… I don’t know. Taking this long to find you.”

He laughed again, kissing you. “Finding you in the end is worth all of it.”

Your throat closed with emotion. Another silently conveyed love letter sent to his sternum. He wrapped his other arm around you. You buried your face in his neck, knowing no words would sufficiently convey what your heart was already whispering to his. I love you. I’m here to stay. I would take all the pain away if I could. You’re mine and I am yours. Azriel. Azriel. Azriel.

His heart sang in answer, filling you with such ferocious love it soothed any pain on his behalf. He exhaled, this time in contentment, declaring again, “You’re worth it all, my love.”

[ellsbclls]

Can I request something with Vi? Maybe like dating headcanons, or maybe where Vi and reader got separated after the council incident that happened but reunite after vi came a pit fighter, and once they see each other again talk a bit before making out

thank you thank you thank you thank you, angel 🥹 i had the absolute hardest time trying to choose which prompt to do, so for the time being i'm gonna word vomit about how good of a girlfriend vi would be, and then i'll work up the courage to execute such a fun and cool scenario!

𖨂 DATING VI HEADCANONS;

  ⟢ vi has always been lead by her heart and so, when she finds someone who embraces it — not for what it can be but for what it is — she lays her weapons down

  ⟢ during her shifts, she'll squirrel away at little souvenirs to bring home to you. it's not enough to just tell you about it, she needs to veil your mirror with a string of noxian banners, the emblem scratched away and embroidered with lily-shaped bolts and acrylic wire. she needs you to know that you're the first thing that comes to her mind when she sees something so tender in the face of violence. by the end of the week, your vanity is overflowing with so many little trinkets that its barely useful anymore, save for her gifts and the exhibition of them. and yet, when she slips the vein of a curling leaf into the palm of your hand, you find a sliver of space for it to live and stretch in front of the face of the mirror, listening intently while she explains how it marked the beginning of another fall with you.

  ⟢ when she finds herself close enough to you, she always tucks her head into the soft of your jaw. and not even in search of a kiss, or at the expense of her teeth. she just breathes you in, where your heartbeat lives, and rocks you back and forth, matching her rhythm the the flighty rate of it.

  ⟢ she hates to bother you with her gauze, and her dressing never cease to bother you. with how often she uses her hands, its inevitable that they will unravel, they'll tear and crease by the end of the day, but god forbid she asks you to help her. no, it won't be until you walk in on her in the bathroom, and she freezes in time — her canines snagging at the tail of a bandage roll while her other arm angles so precariously that it's almost comical. "i've got this," the words are so mangled between her teeth that you choose to ignore them. "i'm sure you do, but humor me." when you take the mantle, she can't help but notice how strong your hands are, how steady, like you're performing surgery. and in a way, you are, putting her back together the only way you know how — carefully.

  ⟢ despite her hands and how heavy they are, she touches you gently. near hesitant. her fingers sweep at the bottom of your eye when you’re drowsy, or tug at the corner of your mouth until it’s nothing but a cheesy half smile, clumsily obvious in her efforts to simply be near you. she’ll say “eyes up here, mister” when she notices how sleazy she’s making you look, but then blush into a blister when you do obey, flashing a pretty pair of doe eyes back at her, your sleazy smirk erupting into something saccharine and beguiled. she barely notices how easily you melt into her touches. so accustomed to drawing blood, to digging into the heel of her palm and restraining, that she feels giddy and drunk with the prospect of holding you and knowing you won’t falter.

  ⟢ she's also a little gross

  ⟢ well, a lot gross, actually. she’ll clean her runny nose with the bottom of her shirt, or dig it into the scruffy pink heat of her armpit and stop, letting the scent hit her tastebuds before she, without fail, shrugs it off. and whenever you catch her in the midst of doing something so gross, she’ll freeze and maintain an eerily impressive sort of eye contact with you, knowing full well that you’ll break eye contact with her before she has a chance to feel ashamed by her actions. it’s the price of growing up with brothers (+ jinx) and never paying for it.

  ⟢ in her restless hours, when you and your body lay half-hazed and dreamy, tucked into the throws and comforts of your bed, perfumed by the drowsy memory of a shower and toasted rice, she comes and crawls into the open spaces you’ve left. for her. to map out and nestle into from above the covers. when she finally finds you, as if you’re not impossibly intertwined already, she needles her arms around your back. nevermind how useless they become in the morning when the prick and pin of morning emerges. who cares? for just one selfish moment it’s just the two of you, cast to an island of quilted sands and dreams.

  ⟢ she also has a hard time saying no to you. the words come out, sure, but the actions never quite line up.

  ⟢ like one instance, early into the post-war rehabilitation efforts. most of piltover had been ravaged, a shiny metropolis brought to pieces — ivory rubble and the singing of distant songs. remarkably, the only remaining piece of infrastructure was the bridge to zaun. its made it easier for the relief efforts to come, and in droves they come — filling empty stomachs, arms aplenty with gauze and vodka, ornamenting what’s left of piltover with remnants of a zaun left unspoken for, whispers of something new and whole. and yet the only thing she hears is the hum of your voice, a gentle echo — "do you think the fish shop is still open?"

  ⟢ for you, it's simple, but to her the request is haunting. she hadn't the heart to tell you that, of the many things that zaun could not preserve, the fish shop was the first to go, and she had spent the remaining weeks finding ways to break it to you. but all fell short in comparison to just doing something about it, even if that something meant tracking the limescaled chef to the heart of zaun and requesting your order a la carte, her heavy gauntlet punctuating the request through the hardwood of his makeshift home.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

hii, I wish to request a Willy Wonka x reader 😭🙏 where reader doesn’t like chocolate at all because it’s too cloying, so Wonka tries to make the right candy (or chocolate) to give it to the reader at Christmas Eve (he wanted to gave reader a small gift before Christmas day, like a form of confessing his feelings to the reader). And reader also prepares a small gift to Wonka bc they also want to confess their feelings to him

Reader can be gender neutral, or however you want

English isn’t my first language so sorry any grammar mistakes, also sorry if I didn’t explain myself well

have a good day and thanks for reading 😭🫶💐

The Bittersweet Gift of Love [W. W]

Willy Wonka x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: don't worry! English is not my first language either. I have to admit that writing with neutral readers is always a challenge for me because I translate my texts directly, but I think this time it's a decent thing. I hope you like it!!

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

What could a chocolatier give to a person who didn't like chocolate? That was the question Willy had been asking himself for the past few weeks.

You hadn't specifically said that you didn't like chocolate, rather it was a matter of not liking the excessively sweet or sticky taste that some had. That is, most of the chocolates he made.

“Maybe it's just that you haven't found the right flavor,” he had told you once, while the two of you were talking.

And he was quite convinced of that, even thinking that if he managed to make something special for you maybe he would earn some affection from you. It would be as if he gave you a certain part of himself, so that you could make it yours.

So it was that Wonka, after reflecting a lot, decided to try all kinds of combinations until he found one good enough to satisfy you. Christmas was approaching and he believed that the occasion would be perfect not only to give you the present, but also to take an important step for which he had not yet had the courage: he wanted to confess his feelings for you.

The man didn't know much about love, however, he knew that he liked you a lot and he wanted you to know it. It was just that he was pretty nervous about it and he hoped everything would turn out as perfect as possible, after all, you deserved it.

Christmas Eve came when he was least expecting it and then it was time to dress in shades of green and red to attend the party that the Smith family would throw, as a thank-you to everyone after Dorothy had heard what the entire group did for help Noodle when she needed it most.

Willy put a lot of effort into buying, with some of the few coins he had left, a cute outfit appropriate to the occasion that he combined with his characteristic coat. When he was in front of the library door he felt the little purple box in his hands extremely heavy and he thought it would be a better idea to put it in his pocket, or else you would realize ahead of time the surprise he had for you.

“Mr. Wonka,” Dorothy greeted, as she opened the door “Come in, come in. It's freezing outside”

“Good night, Mrs. Smith,” he murmured cordially, removing his hat and placing it on a rack in the entryway. Apparently he was the last to arrive, since everyone else was already talking happily in the room.

Of course his eyes went directly to you, who was wearing a green sweater that highlighted your beautiful skin tone and you already had a huge smile on your pink lips from the cold.

“It's good to see you, Mr. Wonka,” said Abacus, being the first to speak “Sit over here.”

He smiled internally at the good fortune that the place the man had left him was right next to you and when you gave him a look, he felt himself blush.

“Hi,” he murmured shyly.

"Hello! I'm so glad you could come."

“I would never miss it,” he responded smilingly. His knees collided with yours and suddenly your warmth seemed to invade him as well, perhaps because of the closeness, but also because of the overflowing love he felt for you “How are you?”

With this question you began a pleasant and private conversation, which developed between close whispers and giggles that made him increasingly nervous. The others didn't mind too much that you didn't participate in the general talks, as they knew that certain unresolved matters probably needed time.

You ate the delicious dinner that the family had prepared, you drank punch, you sang some Christmas carols and when the night had advanced enough you returned to your previous place, although now with fewer people around.

“This is so nice, I love Christmas. The atmosphere is always so homely and warm” you said, with your eyes resting on the simple tree that adorned the room.

It was almost midnight and the others were in the kitchen sorting through some of the cookies that Noodle had put there an hour ago, which only left you and the chocolatier in the living room.

“I guess I believe you, your eyes are literally shining now,” he said happily. He felt like sliding his hand into yours and this time, steeling himself, he didn't hold back. You flinched slightly when you felt that.

“What are you doing?”

“I have something for you,” he breathed, feeling strangely excited by what he was about to do “It's a gift.”

“Oh, Willy,” you responded, a bit incredulously, as you bent down to grab something from your bag on the floor. “I have something for you, too.”

He chuckled when he saw the box lined with bright red and a purple bow decorating it, since it was a pleasant coincidence that you had also prepared something for him.

“But don't tell anyone, because he didn't bring gifts for the others,” you added, quietly, and then he helped you up, still holding onto your hand.

"Come with me"

He led you to an empty room and he closed the door behind you, hoping he only needed enough minutes to not raise suspicions among the rest of the guests. You were nervously holding the gift, with both hands now that he had let go of you.

“Okay, listen. I wanted to do something special for you today,” he began to explain, as he pulled the box out of his pocket. “And I also added, uh… a note. You don't have to read it now or anything, but it says something in it that I want you to know."

“You're starting to scare me,” you stammered, obviously nervous. Willy was going to ask what you meant until he saw you take a small envelope out of your pocket, which you placed on the red paper. “Because I have the same thing for you.”

He stumbled a little at the second coincidence of the night and he wondered what your note could be about. He knew that he had written a little poem confessing how he felt about you, but... what if you were just wishing him a Merry Christmas? He was going to look like a complete fool.

“You can read mine in a more… private place if you feel comfortable. Maybe alone,” he suggested, though he knew it was more for his comfort than yours.

“Huh, how about we just open the gifts and leave the notes for later? I wouldn't want you to read mine now either” you murmured, just as shy as him.

Willy agreed and you extended your gift in his direction, hinting that he would be the first to open. He undid the bow, carefully, and then opened the box, revealing a beautiful scarf.

“Wow, I…”

"Do you like it? I made it myself”

“I don't believe you,” he said immediately, looking even more surprised. “It's beautiful, I really love it. Thank you so much"

He wasted no time and placed the garment around his neck. Curiously, it matched the rest of his outfit.

"It looks pretty"

“Mine is also a gift made by me. Feel free to tell me if you don’t like it, I… I’ll understand, okay?” you looked a little confused at that and then he took out the piece of chocolate, carefully placed inside the box “I know you don't like chocolate, but I don't think anyone should live without consuming such a great delicacy. So I made you this, because it doesn't have those things that you don't like. It's... different, but I hope you like it”

With some shyness he offered you the sweet and you put it in your mouth, under his watchful eye during the process. You tasted what he had offered you: it was a little bitter, but not in that way that makes your head hurt or leaves a bad taste on your palate, but with just the right touch. It was firm and didn't melt in your mouth, but decent enough to chew on. And finally, it had a touch of something indecipherable to you, but that gave it a certain exotic flavor that was pleasant to your senses.

He, without knowing everything you were experiencing, kept looking at you because he wanted to analyze your reaction to know what you really thought, and luckily your reaction showed agreement with what your chocolate lips said:

“It is the best chocolate I have ever tasted”

Willy felt that like the greatest compliment in the world and he couldn't help a smile crossing his face, satisfied with himself for having achieved his goal, but above all for seeing the happy expression on your face.

“You will never have to eat chocolates you don't like again, I have a jar full of these just for you. They will even bear your name."

It was inevitable not to take a step towards him to hug him and the boy, although at first he seemed surprised, soon responded to you.

“No one had ever done anything like this for me. I appreciate it a lot"

“Well, it's my Christmas gift. I wanted it to be something special,” he confessed, feeling his heart beating in time with yours “Merry Christmas, Y/N”

“Merry Christmas, Willy,” you said. The note in his hand felt extremely heavy and he was eager to read it, but he knew he would have to wait a while.

Suddenly you heard Noodle calling your names and you got out of there before anyone else noticed your absence, which worked because the girl was walking around the hallway when you were closing the door.

“It's going to be midnight, come here,” she said and you obeyed.

Dorothy revealed that she had a small present for each person and you began to look under the tree, eager to find out what would be in those little boxes. It wasn't something very ostentatious, but you were grateful anyway.

So, when no one was looking, you ran to the bathroom to finally read whatever he had written to you, hoping it wasn't as embarrassing as the confession you had made. You were stunned to learn the content and for a moment you feared you were dreaming, but you weren't.

When you left you knew well what your intentions were and your heart stopped for a moment when you noticed that Willy was nowhere to be seen, until Lottie told you that she had seen him heading to the kitchen. You rushed over and when you opened the door you noticed that he was about to do the same, with a bright expression on his face.

A second later he had already pulled you inside and without saying another word, he kissed you.

[andy-15-07]

If you’re inspired could you do a fic about Paul Atreides and Y/N’s first night as enemies to lovers? Like they hate each other but they’re in an arranged marriage? Maybe Y/N is scared of the pain she’ll experience during sex? Would love fluff at the end…

Thanks!

From Enemies to Lovers

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

In the grand halls of the Atreides palace on Arrakis, a tense atmosphere hung in the air as Paul Atreides, the young heir to House Atreides, stood before his bride-to-be, Y/N. The marriage between their families had been arranged as a political alliance, a union meant to strengthen their houses in the turbulent times ahead. But for Paul and Y/N, the prospect of marriage was fraught with tension and resentment.

As they stood face to face, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills, Paul could sense the fear and apprehension emanating from Y/N. He knew that she harbored doubts and insecurities about their impending union, just as he did. But duty and honor compelled them to carry on with the charade, to fulfill the obligations thrust upon them by their families.

"Y/N," Paul began, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation, "I understand that this marriage is not of our choosing. But we must make the best of it, for the sake of our houses."

Y/N's eyes flashed with defiance, her resolve unyielding. "I will do my duty, Paul, but do not expect me to pretend that I am happy about this arrangement."

And so, on their wedding night, as they found themselves alone in the opulent chambers of the Atreides palace, the tension between Paul and Y/N was palpable. Neither knew what to expect, their hearts heavy with the weight of obligation and uncertainty.

As they stood on opposite sides of the room, their silence filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, Y/N's fear threatened to overwhelm her. She had heard stories of the pain and discomfort that awaited her on her wedding night, and the thought sent shivers down her spine.

Sensing her apprehension, Paul approached her slowly, his movements cautious yet determined. "Y/N," he said softly, "I understand if you are afraid. But I promise to be gentle with you. We are in this together, whether we like it or not."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes searching his for any sign of deceit or malice. But all she found was sincerity and understanding, a rare glimmer of compassion in the midst of their tumultuous circumstances.

With a shaky breath, Y/N nodded, her walls beginning to crumble under Paul's reassuring presence. "Thank you, Paul," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I will try to trust you."

And so, as they lay together on the bed, their bodies trembling with anticipation and uncertainty, Paul and Y/N embarked on a journey that would forever alter the course of their lives. With each tentative touch and whispered caress, the barriers between them began to fade, replaced by a newfound connection forged in the fires of adversity.

As their bodies moved together in a dance of longing and desire, Paul and Y/N found solace in each other's arms, their fears and doubts melting away in the heat of passion. In that moment, they were no longer enemies bound by duty, but two souls united by love—a love that had blossomed from the ashes of conflict and resentment.

And as the first light of dawn filtered through the window, bathing the room in a soft golden glow, Paul and Y/N lay entwined in each other's embrace, their hearts overflowing with a newfound sense of peace and belonging. For in each other, they had found not only love, but also the courage to defy the expectations of their world and forge their own destiny together.

[m00nsbaby]

Falling asleep on their shoulders.

A bunch of headcanons about how would they feel. :) (Moon system x reader.) Steven.

In a million years, he would never have accepted a work outing when he could be in his comfortable apartment with Gus, reading a new book.

Until he found out that you would be going.

He never imagined that an amusement park could be so much fun. He had never been to one before.

Or maybe he had, but he doesn't remember.

You separated from the group as soon as you arrived. Steven thought he would like to be as carefree as you when you took his hand and walked without a trace of nervousness or fear.

You talked all day, about anything and everything.

"You're very interesting, Steven." It was probably the sweetest thing he had ever heard. His blush made you feel satisfied.

For the rest of the day, you made sure he knew you were interested in him.

You also mentally noted how his lips brushed against your fingers when you offered him some of your cotton candy.

You held hands again when you rode the tallest roller coaster in the park.

Oh, and you kept the photograph.

"Shall we go see the Aqualoop?" "See it or...?" "Get splashed, I mean." He couldn't say no. Both of you were like a pair of children enjoying the day.

Adult life hadn't given you the chance to enjoy yourselves like this in a long time.

Both of you closed your eyes tightly as the water splashed over you, drenching you from head to toe. You both laughed until your stomach hurt, and Steven brushed a wet strand of hair from your face.

Having him so close made your heart skip a beat.

You spent the rest of the day dripping wet, enjoying the sun on your skin and the warm air drying your hair.

You shared food as the evening approached, and you discovered that vegan food was much better than you had imagined, while Steven ate half of your french fries.

As the park was about to close, you met up with the others at the exit.

Both of you insisted on declining the ride J.B. offered, as your clothes were still wet.

After 20 long minutes of arguing, you accepted on behalf of yourself and Steven.

Or Scotty, as J.B. had called him, making you struggle to hold back your laughter.

The space in the back seat was limited, and your body was squeezed between Steven and the car door, but you couldn't say you were uncomfortable.

His body emitted a delightful warmth.

A yawn escaped you.

"Are you tired?" Steven's whisper near you broke the complete silence in the car.

You silently nodded, rubbing one of your eyes with your hand.

If only he had the courage to tell you how adorable he thought you were.

Minutes of silence passed, your breathing became slower and heavier, and your head gradually leaned to the side as you began to fall asleep.

And it happened. Your cheek ended up against Steven's shoulder.

He almost vomited from excitement, not exaggerating. Needless to say, he was the type of person who simply assumed he would die of natural causes before moving or telling you that his shoulder had become tired.

After a few minutes, you shifted, slipping an arm underneath his and intertwining your fingers together, returning to your place on his shoulder after.

He allowed himself to finally smile.

And the hours it took him to gather the courage finally culminated in the best part of the night. He leaned in enough to kiss your forehead.

You smiled too, without opening your eyes.

Marc.

One day, you had to explode, and he knew it.

His plans were always thwarted because Khonshu interfered with his sudden missions that not only meant pausing whatever you were doing, but also meant that Marc would disappear completely from the radar for God knows how many days.

It was strange when he returned, too. It took him days to return to normal, if you were lucky enough he would tell you what had happened, only partially.

"It's always the same!" You finally screamed at your breaking point. Tears overflowed from your eyes as you quickly packed your clothes into your suitcase. You didn't care if the clothes became even more wrinkled.

"You knew it would be like this, I told you." Marc had the migraine of the century.

You shouted at each other for a while, and the maid looked at you as if you were crazy.

To be fair, you sounded like it.

The argument came to a close when Marc went too far with his words. You didn't argue often, but when you did, it always ended like this.

You cried the whole way to the bus station. And you almost started another argument when you pushed your boyfriend's hand away to prevent him from grabbing your suitcase.

If only he had the strength to set aside his pride for once, he would have apologized the moment the tip of your nose turned red.

You wished you could switch places with a stranger to avoid hours of travel with him.

But it didn't happen.

You felt like the thousand times you cried yourself to exhaustion as a child. You even let out a yawn within the first 15 minutes of the trip.

It didn't take long for you to succumb to physical and emotional exhaustion, thinking that sleeping would make time pass faster and you would be away from him sooner.

He was so focused on avoiding your gaze by looking out the window that he didn't even notice when you fell asleep.

Until your head landed on his shoulder with a sudden turn in the road.

Marc's body tensed. He was too stubborn to give in instantly, but at the same time, he was too in love to push you away.

He looked at you, and his chest tightened.

You looked so vulnerable. So tender and small. How could he hurt you if he loved you so much?

Unbeknownst to him, a barely noticeable pout formed on his lower lip.

"I love you," he whispered, more to himself than to you. He was almost consoling himself in the pain of having to carry the regret of his words.

"I love you with all my heart," he repeated.

It was futile, you were deeply asleep.

He made his decision and closed his eyes, leaning his head against yours to find comfort.

He would sleep by your side, feeling the warmth of your body, and when you woke up, he would apologize to you as many times as necessary.

Even if it meant having to make it up to you with other vacations.

Jake.

You never exchanged words unless it was necessary.

You knew his name, he knew yours, and that you were good at fighting together. Unfortunately, you didn't have a "magical" suit to help with that.

You stared out the window, suppressing the urge to moan in pain every time the taxi jolted on the road. You had survived worse things than a twisted ankle and a possible broken rib.

Jake didn't look at you, only when he heard you hiss or take a deep breath because of the discomfort you were in.

"We're close to the hotel," he reassured you, even though it was a lie. You were in the middle of nowhere, trusting that the driver had the correct directions.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against the cold window.

Five more minutes passed, and there were no signs of life on the road, but the pain became more bearable as exhaustion started clouding your perception.

Every time you were about to fall asleep, a tap of your forehead against the window would wake you up.

And you didn't even notice his gaze on you.

After the seventh hit, Jake lost his patience.

"Eso no va a funcionar, cariño." You didn't understand, and you couldn't be bothered to understand as you kept your eyes closed.

The last thing you felt was his body moving closer to yours.

You yielded, your body finally relaxing as you managed to fall asleep. It was easier for Jake to wrap his arm around your shoulders and gently push you against his, allowing you to rest.

Almost immediately, he regretted it.

Jake didn't have this kind of closeness with anyone. His interactions with other people always involved punches, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but pain was always present.

Was it normal for his heart to race like this? He would investigate later.

You moved your head slightly to snuggle better against his shoulder as he held his breath, trying not to make the slightest movement that could wake you.

"¿Cuánto va a ser?" he asked in a low tone so that the driver would understand his concern about not disturbing you.

The driver pointed to the meter in silence. Well, he encountered someone even quieter than himself.

Jake lost count of how many times he whispered in your ear, "Shh, cariño." (although sometimes he changed the endearment to "cielo" or "corazón") as a way to lull you in his arms whenever you shifted in your seat.

When you arrived, he paid in silence, as usual.

He didn't wake you up, in fact, he did his best to be as stealthy as possible.

He slid one of his arms under your legs, wrapped the other around you, and lifted you up like a bride.

Jake was careful, but not so much that your reflexes didn't catch the movement.

You woke up, but never opened your eyes; you simply nestled closer to his chest and enjoyed his care.

Tomorrow you would both face whatever you had to face.

[solbaby7]

I Dare You

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings:prolly some typos, kinda douchebag!cass but very minimal, sexual tension, swearing, mentions of drinking, (literally have any of you ever gone bull riding before? bc that shit is not for the weak)

summary: Cassian doesn’t think you’re capable of letting your hair down to have some fun. I dare you to prove him wrong.

—

Someone must’ve laced your drink.

They had to have.

It was the only logical explanation for the unusual feelings beginning to churn knots in your gut the longer you took in the handsome planes of Cassian’s face.

Usually, it was easier to overlook when you were sober, too off-put by his demeaning comments and endless sexual innuendos to truly focus on the sharp cut of his jaw or the stubble that resided there. The tempting plush of his bottom lip captures your focus, its glistening from the cheap beer overflowing his cup and the foreign thought of what they would felt like pressed against your own evades your senses.

You blame it on the ambiance.

This place was no Rita’s, not nearly as cozy or tucked away but something about the clubs hypnotic hues of rich purples and soft blues casting over Cassian’s cheeks had your head slowly tilting to the side in silent appreciation.

Had he always had that dimple when he smiled?

“Truth or dare?” Mor yells over the thumping music, effectively breaking you free from your trance and stealing your attention. A bright grin is plastered across her face induced by the empty shot glasses on the table before her.

Your head shakes on instinct, not nearly as prone to letting loose as the rest of the Inner Circle. The outfit alone was far enough out of your comfort zone as is, allowing Mor and Feyre to use you like a baby doll; curling your hair and applying makeup over excited giggles and shared bottles of bubbly. The borrowed fabric sticks to you like second skin, its halter neckline more comfortable than you’d care to admit and the cool breeze of passerby’s on your exposed back is welcome. The tight bodice blends seamlessly into the flowy skirt that tickles the middle of your thighs, showing off more leg than you usually cared to bare but it had looked too nice against your figure to complain. “I don’t really—“

“Don’t even bother,” Cassian interjects, a beer clutched in one hand while the other rested lazily on the back of the booth. “She always says no.”

“That’s not true.”

It was.

You blamed it on their High Lord’s inability to complete his paperwork and file them properly afterwards. When you’d first arrived, there had been centuries worth of paperwork strewn about his storage room in no true order with the subjects varying from treaties and common laws on trade routes to pages worth of detailed documentation dividing up ownership of land. Blueprints for potential and current properties with box after box of receipts kept to keep track of the billing it took to run such a place—much less a whole city.

Simply put, you’d been stuck in work-mode; refusing casual outings and generous offerings of chilled bottles shared over dinner for months until you’d finally made a dent sizable enough to satisfy you. There’s no point in bothering to explain any of that to Cassian though, biting your words over the rim of your glass and the burn on your tongue is soothed by the sweet mixer. “Oh really?” He goads, a cocky glint in golden eyes as he leans forward, shoulders straining in the dark cotton of his shirt . “Answer her then, truth or dare?”

There’s a long pause—one long enough for Rhysand to clear his throat, fully prepared to diffuse the situation but your voice cuts through before he can. “Dare.” It’s spoken stronger than you feel and you muster up the courage to meet his eye as if you hadn’t just been gobbling up the miles of endless muscle packed onto his body.

“I dare you to let loose for once in your boring little life.” Feyre scoffs her disapproval at his wording, a hand smacking at Cassian’s arm but he doesn’t react as if he can even feel it. He’s utterly fixated on you, body language lax and still somehow emitting such a domineering presence it makes your feet shift in high heels. “Unless you’re too prude to even let your hair down?”

A brow arches and you ignore the burn creeping up your neck at the looks your friends are sharing, clearly having a mental conversation on who was going to have to intervene this time. Saving them the trouble, you comply. “Fine.” You’re too occupied in chugging the remnants of your drink to notice the surprised expression crossing the General’s face. He doesn’t miss you though, witnessing a mischievous darkness clouding your eye before you rise from the booth and squeeze through the endless sea of bodies.

“I don’t understand your problem with her,” Mor grumbles with distaste, a hand outstretching for the latest round of drinks being provided by the waiter. “She’s nice.”

“She’s boring,” Cassian promptly retorts, eyes sifting over the crowd in search for a flash of your dusky red dress but it’s nowhere to be found. His spine straightens ever so slightly, the grip on his glass tightening in his silent surveillance for you. “When you said you were hiring a female who’d be around so often that she’d be living with us, I hoped she’d be more…eventful.”

“Is that truly your reasoning, brother?” Rhys drawls out playfully, tugging his mate in closer to his side. A glass of whiskey is in his free hand, tilting the bottom of it tauntingly in Cassian’s direction as he pretends to ponder. “Or maybe it’s because you keep antagonizing her in hopes that she’ll notice you and yet she barely gives you anything back in return? Her passiveness must eat you up at night.”

It earns the High Lord a few laughs and even Azriel can’t hide the amused upturn of his mouth at Cassian’s expense but the Lord of Bloodshed can’t even begin to be bothered with that.

Not when his sights finally land on that sinful shade of red gripping at the curves contained within them. Cassian can’t even hear his family anymore, eardrums tuning out everything that wasn’t you as he watches the way you lean in towards one of the nicely dressed workers with a smile. The exchange is quick but Cassian doesn’t miss a thing, noting the challenging quirk of the males brow and he leads you behind a thick curtain that sectioned off a portion of the bar he hadn’t even noticed until now.

Words can’t describe the way losing his visual on you makes his skin itch, wings twitching with his irritation and the tense line of his shoulders doesn’t release for even a second. A plethora of thoughts plague Cassian’s mind. Surely you hadn’t taken his jest as an invitation to go be with some other male? Even if it would’ve been well within your right it was the furthest from his intentions.

“Run out of witty remarks?” Rhysand prods further, voice full of humor but there’s a hint of serious questioning lingering in his eye. “Or have I stunned you to complete silence?”

Feyre catches on quicker than her counterpart, following Cassian’s line of sight, watching as the same curtains you’d disappeared behind starts beginning to rise, a thundering chime ringing through the bar. “I don’t think it’s you who has him speechless.”

The others follow her gaze and quiet fascination sets root when more space is revealed. Situated right in the middle of the newly revealed stage is what seems to be the magical apparition of a fake bull, complete with horns and a nose that huffed out smoke. It’s one hell of a spectacle that has the inebriated crowd cheering with joy at the promise of such extravagant entertainment. “Trouble is in the house tonight. Let’s welcome her warmly.” The male announces, guiding you into the light and spinning you around for all to take in.

Cassian’s teeth grit together, disturbingly aware of every eye and muttered comment directed your way and his fingers twitch for the familiar weight of his sword. “No way...” He whispers in complete disbelief as you approach the bull with a practiced ease, hoisting yourself on its back with the swipe of your leg.

The motion is fluid, thighs shifting to get situated and the new position hikes up the hem of your dress. All the bare skin that is revealed makes his mouth water, elbows leaning against the table to brace himself.

Your gaze finds Cassian’s easily in the crowd, a devious smirk forms in the corner of your mouth and the wink you send his way has his cock twitching to life in his breeches.

Music flows through the space—a sensual tempo with a bass so deep it rattles the very blood in your body. There’s no explaining why you find such a comfort in it but you submit to the numbness it provides anyway, relishing in the absence of thought as you melt into the beat.

One hand latches securely around the saddle and the well-dressed employee begins his skilled control of the bull. It’s a slow rock, movements mechanical and jerky but you make it look graceful—hips shifting back and forth over and over as the speed increases. You barely look up, too caught up in synchronizing your body with the music, spurred on by the generous cheers from the other drunken fae with energy to burn and coins to spend.

Faster and faster the bull rocks, spinning you from left to right but your remain saddled in place, core strong and thighs braced for the chaotic jostling. Haughty whistles cut through the crowd when the bull abruptly tips forward, shifting the fabrics of your dress until you were face down, ass up and flashing the lacy boy shorts you had on underneath. “Come on,” You whine prettily to the male in control of the mechanism, hair spilling to one side of your face and a pretty blush fans across your cheeks at the salacious exposure. “That all you got?”

“Hold on tight.”

You’re grateful for obtaining the good sense it takes to heed the warning because in an instant the bull is jerking back to life, spinning and rocking in an attempt to shake you off. Jubilant laughter pelts free, hair blowing in the wind and dress flashing more of the soft skin that Cassian was just dying to get his fill of.

He’s been bested—that much the Commander can admit but it doesn’t feel like a loss when you feed his filthy fantasies without even trying. The roll of your waist will surely plague his dreams but the effortlessly seductive glint in your eye will haunt him to his dying breath.

It doesn’t dissipate. Not even when you finally tap out, easing yourself down on shaky legs and shuffle back to the shared booth with a breathy huff.

A peachy sheen has overtaken your cheeks at the bewildered stares your friends give you for your performance but the mess of your curls splaying around your shoulders has Cassian’s heart racing when imagining the others ways he could put you in such a state.

The others watch in complete silence as you steal the beer right from Cassian’s hands, cool condensation dripping down your fingers but you pay it no mind. “It seems that I am plenty of fun to be around,” He watches the slow roll of your throat as you swallow, unable to look away. “But that’s usually reserved for after hours.”

Cassian’s gaze darkens under the implication, lids heavy with desire. “Noted.”

[wheres-mylove]

silent love song | sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

Summary: A pretty lady is convinced that Sihtric hates her, a pretty warrior is terrified of confessing his feelings more than fighting the most dangerous enemy, and the pretty boys simply have to spring into action, because you can't be more oblivious than these two.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

Hope in her heart extinguished as quickly as it had ignited. 

Sihtric Kjartansson ran away from her once again. 

The cool air was a welcome change after hours spent in a stuffy and stinky hall, overflowing with joyful men. Though drunken would be a more fitting description. The wind tousled (Y/N)'s hair as she quietly left the room to take a break from the chaos that only a band of celebrating warriors could create. She turned her head at the sound of approaching footsteps. In the dimly lit vestibule, she recognized Sihtric's figure. He stood there for a few seconds. Then, he spun on his heel and returned to his companions. 

(Y/N) let out a heavy sigh. Since she had never noticed the boy's flushed cheeks and how nervously he gulped, trying to find the courage to talk to her, she once again came to the following conclusion - Sihtric Kjartansson did not like her. From the very beginning. 

Poor girl rested her head against the wooden railing and closed her eyes in frustration. She didn’t even know what his problem was!

“What a cheerful mood,” commented Finan, nudging her with his elbow. “Is the lady planning to stand here in this abyss of despair or will she come back to us?” 

“Why don’t you go away and bother someone else?”

“My other friends have ugly faces. It takes away my drinking joy.” 

(Y/N) laughed and shook her head. 

“Are ya okay? Ale’s too strong?” he asked, then smiled playfully. “Sihtric is worried.”

The girl glanced at him and furrowed her brow in contemplation. She hoped Finan would keep it discreet after she said what she had intended to say. 

“I'm asking you, because you're an honest man,” she began, smoothing the material of her skirts just to occupy her hands. She had to know. “Sometimes even recklessly straightforward.”

“Thank ya,” he replied with a proud smile. Then he processed the second part of her statement and grimaced. “I guess.” 

“Why does Sihtric hate me?” she asked, her tone almost pleading. “I don't mean that he has to like me, but he doesn't utter a word to me, while he talks to everyone else. He runs away at the sight of me! Even today. Is my company that unbearable, or did I do something to offend him? If it's the latter, I will apologize, for heaven's sake!” 

Finan stood there with raised eyebrows for a while. Then he let out a belly laugh. (Y/N) waited with hands placed on her hips until the Irishman stopped wheezing. 

“That's what you get when you ask a drunkard anything,” she retorted, about to walk away, but Finan held her arm.

“No, wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” he exclaimed, wiping tears from his eyes. “You've amused me so. Wait! Wait, woman.”

“You're making fun of my problems. If you told me that girls run away at the sight of you, I would at least explain why. Sometimes you're a real piece of shit.”

“Girls go crazy when they see me,” he protested, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “But ya make Danish warriors weak in the knees, so you have nothing to complain about! Sihtric worships the ground ya walk on, I'm serious now.” Finan straightened up and smiled, but this time more gently. “He's cute, but he's already wearing us all out with his tales about your beauty, so if you could just help us out…” 

“You're making fun of me,” (Y/N) replied uncertainly, searching his face for signs of deception. 

“For someone so wise, you're more blind than my grandmother in her final days,” Finan muttered, crossing his arms. “Think for a moment. He doesn't have to say anything. It's just that ya seem to have your eyes up your arse.”

“I should drown you in that barrel of ale. I'm going to sleep, and I suggest you do the same.” The girl jumped off the steps without looking back. 

“He bows when he sees ya approaching, even if miles separate ya,” the Irishman continued. (Y/N) reluctantly stopped, though her stubbornness still prevented her from turning around. “He stands near your tent at night, and believe me, no one dares to enter. Who do ya think takes care of your horse? The servants, to put it mildly, have been dismissed.” (Y/N) slowly faced Finan. “When trouble or danger arises, who magically appears in front of ya? Coincidence, right? And when we set up camp a week ago, I hope ya know that no one conjured those extra furs; they were from him.”

The girl looked down and sighed softly. 

“And the flowers by the entrance of my tent, I presume?”

“Aye, ya should see how enthusiastically he picks them! That beast has gone a bit mad for ya. Anything else, my lady?”

“When I said I have no means to defend myself…”

“A sudden surge of wisdom!”

“Be quiet,” she murmured with a smile, waving him goodbye.

“That's a nice dagger ya have!”

Because it’s Sihtric's.

A complete, humiliating, crippling defeat.

“Did you shit your breeches?” Uhtred yelled loud and clear, even before Sihtric could return defeated to their table.

“Come on, give him a break, lord.” Osferth threw Sihtric a comforting look and a tight-lipped smile. Sihtric messed up his hair and slumped heavily on the bench.

“I can't handle it, I just can't,” he admitted with considerable embarrassment. “If only she were a little less beautiful, everything would look different.”

“Close your eyes then,” Beocca advised from above his bowl of stew.

“God's wisdom knows no bounds,” Osferth commented in a voice devoid of emotion and glanced at Sihtric, who, in his misery, decided to down his ale in one go. 

“I don't understand you, I simply don't understand you,” Uhtred sighed. “A brave warrior, slaying enemies with a sword, an axe, even with bare hands. And he's afraid to simply talk to a lady.” 

“Uhtred, feelings have overwhelmed people more than once. The heart is not inclined to listen to rational explanations. It follows its own rules,” Beocca spoke up, folding his hands on the table. “Don't lose faith, Sihtric. Everything will work out.”

“He doesn't need faith, just some balls,” Uhtred protested, to which the priest and the baby monk gave him disapproving looks. 

“What? Nothing but the truth.”

“She wouldn't want me anyway,” the young warrior spoke, staring into the bottom of his mug. “She is a lady, and what am I? What can I offer her? What can I give her? It's pathetic. It's enough for me to admire her from a distance and know that she's safe; the rest is just a stupid dream.”

“He's entered the wailing phase,” Uhtred groaned. Leaning back, he looked towards the entrance. “Finan went to her. He probably annoyed her. Oh, he definitely annoyed her. Maybe she was already irritated that you messed up once again and exploded.”

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Gods, Sihtric, she was looking at you all evening. She went outside alone, so you had a perfect excuse to approach her, you fool.”

“It's not that simple-”

“My lady, what a beautiful evening it is today. You suddenly disappeared, and I wanted to make sure everything is okay. It is? Great. I wanted to be certain. And ask if you would like to sleep in my tent tonight.”

“Uhtred!”

“What now?”

“The savage speaks through you,” Beocca scolded him. Meanwhile, Finan returned and leaned conspiratorially over his dark-haired friend. 

“(Y/N) asked about ya, little runt.” 

“About me?” Sihtric raised his head so quickly that he almost broke his friend's nose. “What exactly did she say?” 

“Ya would know if ya had gone there and asked her yourself,” Finan replied with a wicked smile and darted back towards the exit. 

“Finan!” Sihtric shouted after him, immediately getting up from his seat. “What did she say? Finan!”

“If things continue to look like this, the opportunity will slip right past him,” Uhtred concluded, watching with amusement as Sihtric chased after the Irishman. “We need to corner him.”

“But how, my lord?” Osferth asked uncertainly. “He gets very nervous in her presence. I doubt we can…”

 “Anger is a bit stronger than fear. And I have an idea.”

 “Oh God, watch over us.”

Something was off. Aethelwold had never sat so close. And Sihtric's eyes had never gleamed with such fury. 

“That's exactly how it happened, my lady. I'm not telling this story to boast, oh no,” the royal nephew spoke, gesturing animatedly.

(Y/N) had hoped for a peaceful afternoon and a bit of quiet in the shade of the sprawling oak tree. She had some things to think about. She had to think about Sihtric. About Finan's words. And about things she hadn't noticed before. Perhaps she had indeed surpassed the Irishman's grandmother in her blindness. 

Barely had she settled under the tree with an apple in her hand and a tangle of thoughts in her head when Sihtric appeared nearby. He must have had a lot to do in that area.

She lifted her gaze when she felt him looking at her. He blushed to the tips of his ears and bowed deeply. She smiled and was about to get up and approach him. (Y/N) had prepared a perfect excuse. The dagger desperately needed sharpening. Maybe Sihtric would confess that he had given it to her. But all dreams and plans were ruined by Aethelwold, emerging out of nowhere with an innocent smile. 

“My lady,” he began and sat down next to her without waiting for an invitation. “If it's not a bother, I'll keep you company for a while. I see it's not. We haven't had a chance to get to know each other better, don't you think?” 

(Y/N) wasn't quite sure what this arrogant man was getting at, but she decided to listen to his utterly fascinating stories for a while so as not to appear rude. 

Sihtric was seething. He thought Osferth was lying because Uhtred ordered him to. The young monk had told him in great secrecy that he overheard a conversation between Aethelwold and (Y/N)'s brother. The topic of discussion was an initial marriage agreement. Of course, Sihtric didn’t believe him. 

But now, before Sihtric's eyes, that pile of dung was cozying up to his lady. He was probably telling outrageous things just to brag. 

Sihtric Kjartansson sharpened his sword, carefully observing every move of Aethelwold. That poor fool felt beads of sweat on his forehead when their eyes met. 

“Lord, if you'll allow me, I'm very tired,” (Y/N) gently interrupted his never-ending story and got up, dusting off her dress. Aethelwold stood up with her and grabbed her wrist firmly, holding her in place. 

Big mistake. 

One pleading look from (Y/N) later, the man, royal or not, landed on his backside with a loud thud, forcefully pushed away. 

“The lady leaves when she wishes to leave, and you keep your hands to yourself,” the young Dane growled, to which Aethelwold raised his hands in a defensive gesture. 

“Yes, I apologize,” he quickly stammered, gathering himself from the ground and rushing off to an appointed place. 

“Never again, he looked at me like he were the devil himself,” Aethelwold said in a high-pitched voice. He extended his hand, on which Uhtred sprinkled a few silver coins. “I demand a barrel of ale added to my payment. He was sharpening his sword!”

“We saw. Someone got maaad,” chuckled Finan, trying to get a better look from behind the twigs.

“Important thing is, it worked. That justifies my lie, doesn't it, lord?” Osferth asked for a confirmation, pushing past Finan.

“God will forgive you,” Uhtred promised. “But you won't get the ale, Aethelwold. There was supposed to be a kiss too.”

“Of course! So he could kill me!”

Unaware of the trap set for him, Sihtric was seething with jealousy and a sense of injustice. She couldn't marry that scoundrel. 

“Thank you, I thought I'd never get rid of him,” (Y/N) smiled and bowed her head slightly. 

“Can I say something?” Sihtric asked with desperate fervor.

“You certainly should, it's rare,” the girl laughed, but her expression grew serious at the sight of his face. 

“Don't marry him. Don't do this to me and to yourself.”

“Sihtric? I'm not…”

“Aethelwold doesn't deserve you. Honestly, I doubt anyone ever will. He's a coward and you, (Y/N), need something more. Someone who will pledge you a sword along with their heart. And give you that whole heart until it becomes one with yours. Make you a part of their world in its very core. They'll dream of you because you're someone worth dreaming of. Worth of devotion and tenderness. They'll see in you not only the beauty that weakens me, but also the strength and courage that are evident in every move you make-”

(Y/N) looked at him for a while, her gaze wandering over his face. 

“Weaken you?”

“What?” Sihtric stumbled, suddenly realizing the weight of his slip of the tongue.

“Why were you silent for so long if you speak like this?” (Y/N) sighed before rising on her tiptoes and planting a sweet kiss on his lips. Sihtric didn't open his eyes, afraid it was all a dream. 

“My lady? I... I apologize if it's too much at once…”

“Someone recently talked some sense into me, so now I know you've been telling me this all along, little by little,” (Y/N) confessed, cupping his face in her hands. “You spoke through your actions, Sihtric. I'm sorry for averting my gaze.”

The mighty warrior fixed his gaze on the tree, embarrassed to meet the girl's eyes.

“Did you at least like the flowers?”

“Very much. Where do you pick them?”

“It's a secret.”

“We can go pick them together sometime. And roll in the grass.” 

Sihtric burst into laughter and kissed her more passionately. The realization hit him that now he could. 

“Wait,” (Y/N) suddenly said, holding him back by the arm. “Where did the idea that I'm getting married come from?”

“Osferth told me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “And the person that told you-”

“Finan,” (Y/N) quickly interrupted. 

“One could have guessed.”

“No. Well, yes. But now I mean that Finan is standing over there and waving at us.” 

Sihtric turned around abruptly. Now not only Finan, but also the rest of the party left their hiding spot. The boys looked very pleased with themselves. 

“Right, Uhtred all along,” (Y/N) looked at Sihtric. “You frightened the poor man and he was just doing your lord's bidding.”

“He deserved it,” he whispered in her ear. They heard a cough behind them. Father Beocca also decided to grace them with his presence. 

“Is anyone else hiding in the bushes?” Sihtric muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“I only came to inquire about when we're setting the date for the wedding.”

“Whose wedding? It's easy to get confused,” (Y/N) chuckled. 

“Yours, lady. With Sihtric, of course,” Beocca replied nonchalantly, pointing with his finger at the Dane still embracing her tightly. “Uhtred told me.”